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mimithings97 · 4 years

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How to Make Him Cum 101 (M)

Summary: You’ll love each other in sickness and health, hungover or hangry, sexless or… well, it’s becoming a little harder for the pants to stay on despite the calls of ‘let’s take this slow’ on the first date.

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

Genre: University AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst (tiny bit), Crack

Warnings: (Plenty my friend) Handjob, Fingering, Squirting, Sex without protection, Tongue fucking, Jungkook being whipped, Chocking (brief), Dry Humping, Jungkook cumming in his pants, lots of swearing, lots of alcohol consumption, consumption of weed

Word Count: 15k (it was meant to be 10k, but I fucked it)

A/N: I love Jungkook in this, he’s a sweetheart who has no fucking idea what he’s doing. Took me way too long to write this and I’m sorry if it drags, but I split it into little scenes to make it more manageable. It’s also pretty casual - no real storyline. Enjoy and suggestions always welcome x

“I swear to fuck, if he throws up my £2000 bourbon...”

And by some miracle, neither the end of Taehyung’s sentence nor the £150 shot Namjoon halfheartedly threw back makes an appearance.

“Nah big man can handle his shit right Joon,” is the mere drunken support offered by Jimin. It’s also accompanied by an all-too heavy hand to the back that has the elder spluttering on air, the shot well and truly burning a hole in his stomach by now.

You observe from the distance of the kitchen, fortunately barricaded from the testosterone fest by the island and several misplaced sofas. It was Jimin’s idea to upgrade the sofa scheme to one that was more ‘drinking and smoking friendly’ so he liked to call it, taking a sufficient 30 minutes just to manoeuvre several pieces of furniture into a circle that centred around all too expensive liquors and cheap weed - the irony of the contrast had most certainly dawned on you.

Your unexpected appearance to the gathering was on the account of boyfriends hazy state. He was all ‘come save me’ and ‘i’m dying’ over your texted conversation but upon arrival, the boy was all over that tequila bottle like he was downing chocolate milk.

Despite your best intentions of remaining inconspicuous and merely Jungkook’s driver for the night went to shit when Jimin, unapologetic and somewhere between happily stoned and confident drunk demanded you join their escapades.

“Booze or bud but not neither Y/N.” Nothing like a typical Taehyung to welcome you to the action.

“Well you didn’t say I couldn’t have both,” is your reply that’s laced with a brazen tone and paired with a smirk.

You’re met with Taehyung tonguing his cheek.

“That’s my girl,” Jungkook shouts mid-laugh and gives you a smack to the ass for good measure. You find comfort in the gesture, so following his drifting hand to the point that you settle in his lap.

Jungkook must have drunk his weight in alcohol because it’s all touches from behind you, cold hands finding their way under cloth and onto warm skin, lips clamping down on your neck and teeth unforgiving on your ear lobe. Your boyfriend’s a modest guy even at worst, so his provoking actions are met with raised eyebrows on your behalf.

Slowly but surely, with the burn of smoke in your lungs and the even harsher burn of rich whiskey (because £2000 bourbon is a harsh no), Jungkook’s hands roam freely.

“Jesus mate, if you’d have fucked her the second time you would’ve had that pussy on hold, swear down.” Somewhere between your silent touches and unauthorized smoking of all of Namjoon’s weed, the conversation had delved into the topic of Jimin’s overly privileged sex life.

“That’s exactly what I said but the bitch pussied out,” Hobi pipes up from the corner where he’d faded away from being too legit faded - boy never could handle his smoke.

“Fuck off did I pussy ou-”

“Nahhh she had you whipped babe, that second shag wasn’t even on the cards,” you mouth speaks for you. Or more like your high speaks for you at this point.

You feel Kook smile into your shoulder from where his head was perched.

“This’ll be good,” it’s under Taehyung’s breath but not inaudible.

“Fuck do you mean, ‘she had me whipped’, she was all over me that night at Joon’s...” Jimin swigs mid-sentence, flushed from the buzz of liquor and his overly defensive tone, “had her wrapped around my little finger.”

… the opportunity was too good to miss.

“What little finger?” You refrain from laughing at your own remark for dramatic effect but Jungkook’s squeezing your sides and the lightness of your head betrays you.

Jimin’s eye contact with your falters as if his ego broken, and the others pass around comments along the lines of ‘fucking brilliant’ and ‘unlucky mate’.

You take a final drag before passing it behind you to the already seeking hand of your boyfriend who’s still amused by your smart-mouth.

“Jimin, I’m just saying,” you elaborate in hopes of restoring his cracked masculinity somewhat, “from what Stephanie told me, Mina had four guys on hold at that party and wasn’t inclined to let any of them stick in on her cos she’s got a full-on guy waiting for her away from uni.”

He huffs, throwing himself and his bottle backwards onto the sofa, causing it to slosh around and out. You peer over at Taehyung, waiting for the boy to morph into an expression of disgust because god knows, this sofa cover costs more than your rent, but he never does - eyes glazed and a small smile instead.

“Fucking brilliant, I was fifth on a girls ‘need to shag’ list.” You almost feel bad for the sod, but one thing Jimin could never do was keep his mouth shut when it needed to be. “At least I’m doing better than you, Y/N, you can’t even get a fuck off your boyfriend and you’ve been together for months.”

Taehyung’s smile drifts, Hobi shifts in his seat and Jungkook stiffens from behind you - the air dries up.

“Jimin, mate, come on,” Joon tries to reason, but as per usual Jimin keeps his mouth moving.

“I said what I said.”

Yeh, he sure fucking did. And if one thing was known to be uncharted conversation between the lot of you, then that was your and Jungkook’s abstinence. But in true style, Jimin just had to pry.

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“Fuck it, maybe we should just have sex,” he finally says as you stall over wiping off your eyeliner to laugh at his exasperation. Jungkook wasn’t insecure but he was easily influenced when something hurt his pride - and you could tell, from Jimin’s comment, throughout the awkward air that lingered in the car, to just now, that he had been stewing on the dent to his ego from the moment it was spoken.

You want to tell him with all the sarcasm in the world how ‘romantic’ he’s being about it all, but you refrain to save further damage.

“Kook-”

“Nah, seriously Y/N, I’m tired of this shit…” you want to diffuse his state, but he persists, “and- I don’t really know what I’m waiting on now.”

“Baby,” you finally get a grip on his attention as he lets out a huff and welcomes you onto his lap. “You’ve had your reasons to wait on this, I’ve always respected that. But…” he groans and you lean into him as a warning to let you finish, “buttt, I’m not gonna respect any shit when you’re letting Jimin decide for you. Just cos the boy can’t get his dick wet doesn’t mean you have to.”

You feel him snicker against your shoulder as he lowers his head in frustration.

“You do this on your own time. Not mine,” you weave your fingers through his locks and anchor him to you, “not Jimin’s, not anyone but yours,” and finalise your sentiment by situating your lips on his temple.

With eyes fluttering shut into your touch and a heavy breath out he indulges in his insecurity. “I just can’t afford to lose you.” And you know it takes his booze-filled conscience to let you in.

You have to admit that there was some level of hurt you managed to hide at this point. That even after relishing in one another's company for 5 months, Jungkook still couldn’t find it in himself to trust you in that way. It was a mental thing, an emotional instinct of too many failed relationships where he was a victim to being cheated on, left after being used for sex and prayed on for good looks and unfortunate vulnerability. You knew within yourself you would never and could never do what so many have done before you. Fuck, you couldn’t even see yourself being sane and capable without him, ever, period. For that, you respected his decision - whilst frustratingly prolonged - because you knew he was worth the wait.

“I need you just as much as you need me.” You sense the slump in his shoulders, the heaviness of too many pressures and burdens weighing them down. That and his drug-induced state causing unwanted fatigue. “Hmm?” So you lift his chin and search his eyes till they meet yours, passing on a reassurance that he finally accepts with a curt nod.

“Yeh, I know.”

You press a kiss, or two to his lips and lean back to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Now are you gonna keep sulking to yourself like a bitch or let me make you cum?” His instant response is his eyes blowing out in shock of your statement before laughing into your chest. You know him well enough that he is using your chest to hide the blush in his cheeks but you don’t mention it.

Instead, you wiggle your hips with no subtlety into the twitch of his groin that seeks your mouth so desperately, laughing when he grabs you at the cheeks and pulls you away to say, “You’re fucking mental.” But against his lips you can’t help the, “-Nd you love me for it,” that is mumbled.

Yeah, this boy was definitely worth the wait.

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Weekends seem to roll around at a quickening pace when you have a needy boyfriend and even more demanding party schedule to fill the gaps. And by some freak of nature, you hadn’t managed to drop your education off a cliff in the meantime - in fact, you had begun to make a living off having beer in one hand and highlighter in the other.

University wasn’t a walk in the park, but you’d been enough of a devoted intellect in your first two years of it to allow yourself to drop off the map a little. So, after becoming a co-captain of the swim team somewhere into your second year, it was only a natural, human instinct kind of reaction that your fellow captain, the hunk of abs who graced poolside, would slip a few too many flirty remarks at you before you called him your boyfriend. He’d pined and you’d fallen - simple as.

He came with baggage though. Six boys and a whole lot of booze and weed. You were no saint before Jungkook, hell, you almost weren’t allowed swim captain because you’d slept in one too many of the guys beds. But as soon as you’d said ‘yes’ to the going out for drinks invitation he offered, you had also said ‘yes’ to the party on Saturday at Hoseok’s, and the one on Sunday down at the river, and for every weekend for the next 5 months. And slowly but surely, it was no longer, ‘this is my girlfriend’ as an introduction, but you asking the familiar face around the party with all urgency where the nearest bottle of tequila was.

It’s also how you’d landed yourself filthily hungover in your Monday lecture, listening to Professor Snape (nah, it’s his real name and all) with a noticeable shake in your hand and last nights mascara somewhere down your face.

“If you look that shit, then what the hell does Kook look like.” Mina, the best friend, the only one allowed to hold back your hair whilst you would throw up in a second-floor bathroom, and the roommate who made student life just a bit more bearable than the shit show it was.

She takes the seat next to you, her question probably rhetorical but you make the effort to reply, all the same.

“Still asleep in the bathtub I reckon.” Ah, yes, the boyfriend. At somewhere between 1 in the morning and blackout drunk you, Jungkook and your infamous competitiveness called for beer pong - minus the beer, add the vodka. So it was only gonna be a certain amount of time before both you and him were pushed into a cab on top of one another and drafted back to his flat so he could throw up in his bathtub.

“Jesus,” Mina mutters with a laugh, probably just relieved someone ordered your taxi to go to his and not your shared apartment - like hell was she listening to Jungkook throw up at 5 in the morning.

“Honestly, why does Yoongi host that shit on Sunday,” you groan into your laptop, turning down the brightness because you can already feel the afternoon hangover headache arising.

“He doesn’t have a 9am like the rest of us.”

“Fucker.”

Good host though, Yoongi. A postgrad, with his own two-storey apartment and too much time on his hands. You’d known him before the boyfriend too, working shifts with him in your first year at a music production company, both in the catering section because you had time to fill and tuition to pay and he was hoping to find his break into the industry. He fucked it though and has ended up with some crazy paid apprenticeship at a financial branch in the city centre.

“Oi, Bob’s this weekend?” Mina poses the question as the lights brighten in the lecture room and everyone starts shutting laptops - yours was shut ten minutes ago when you stopped listening and started wallowing in self-pity.

“Bob’s?” Bermuda Bobs. A club in the centre of town, and somewhat of a regular for Friday nights, when Hoseok had had just about enough of hosting. “Yeh. Yeh, I can do Bobs.”

Mina’s up and off before you can even open the zip on your bag, something about she’ll miss her lift to training, but you mumble that you’ll see her at the apartment later before you can see the back of her head.

All you can think as you conquer the steps to the exit of the hall is how much of a blessing a shower and a cup of tea would be - ‘so easily pleased’ Mina would say. So, when you look up from your phone to see Jungkook opposite where you walk out, a cup of tea in hand, you might just believe in fate.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, throat hoarse as he takes you bag from your shoulder and places the coffee into your welcoming hands. You laugh at him, a snort because it’s ironic considering the bloodshot eyes and beer-stained hair he sports.

“You were passed out in the bath legit an hour ago,” his hand finds yours despite your teasing and when you finally take the first sip of tea as you walk, anyone would think the noise you made was nothing short of an orgasm - Jungkook certainly takes notice. “Did you bring the car?”

He snorts, “Like fuck did I bring the car, I’m still drunk.”

“Babbbyy,” it’s a whine as you throw your head back and pull his hand to make your point into a tantrum.

“It’s literally a 5 minute walk babe, suck it up.” He continues ahead, but you go full 5 year old tactics on him, stopping in your tracks and whacking on your face the biggest pout your lips will allow.

He merely rolls his eyes and kisses it away before presenting his back to you, arms out, legs bent and you hop onto him like the spoilt girlfriend you are.

“You’re a brat, you know that.” Is all he says as he starts the walk out of the building and towards his, so you kiss behind his ear.

“Mmm, call me that again, it kinda turns me on.”

“Fucking filty,” but you see the crinkle in his eyes that lets you know that he loves you for it.

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Friday nights roll around quicker than you know when Bob’s is calling. They start earlier than most nights as well - lecture leads to swim training, swim training calls for afternoon drinks at Warehouse and then Warehouse blurs into Pre’s that blurs into Bob’s.

So with beer curdling in your stomach, trying to flick the wing of your eyeliner and failing for the fifteenth time is as funny as Jimin’s pinkie to you and Mina.

She is, of course, ready. Has been for almost 2 hours, so whilst you struggle to slip into your dress, she finishes your eyeliner for you.

The buzz of your phone has both of you looking to the vibrating device in confusion, having to double-take with each other because the taxi isn’t supposed to be here until Jungkook is and he isn’t supposed to be here for another half an hour.

Your fumbling with a zip so it’s Mina who reaches for it, and when the screen lights her face, her features go from confused to ‘for fucks sake’ in less than a second. She turns it and that god awful photo of Jungkook and his swimming goggles on lights up the display.

“I’ll get the door.” She’s exasperated. He’s early and she can’t stand that - all it took was him showing up at the wrong time on a Wednesday whilst she was naked on the sofa with a girl between her legs that caused the ‘come when you’re fucking asked to come’ attitude - poor boy didn’t even know she was gay.

You do a once over in the mirror before the door swings open, Mina has a scowl but your boyfriend has a lime in one hand and tequila in the other, so you don’t care.

“Shit, you look hot,” Fuck, so does he, but he’s pressing a kiss to your lips before you can drink him in fully, “s’that dress new?”

“I did the makeup, thank me.” Mina was always loud, and speaking at the wrong places and in the wrong conversations.

“Kindly fuck off, you did the eyeliner and shit all else.” You turn back to Kook, now leaning against your wall, eyes still trained on you, or at least, your legs, and he looks fucking thirsty that’s for sure. “And yeh, got it when I went in the city the other week.” He replies with a nod and a smirk. Those damn bedroom eyes, they hold your gaze, as you fiddle with the clasp on the side of your dress.

Mine pipes up from the sidelines, “God, it’s like I’m watching a fucking mating ritual or something.” Jungkook scoffs and his shoulders ease as though he’s calming himself down, “Well, I’m ready so shots it is.” She grabs the bottle of tequila from Jungkook’s hand and is off into the kitchen without looking back.

“Who put a foot up her ass then?” He only says it once the door is closed, knowing he’ll get a whacking if Mina heard him, so you scowl at him, albeit through a smile.

“Oi, watch it,” you’re in front of him now, leaning into the arm he stretched out to embrace you in.

“Sorry,” and he means it. He genuinely likes Mina, you’re sure of it, but they go at each other like cats in an alley when you’re not there to referee it.

He’s warm around you, his shirt with buttons undone at the top so that the cologne he’s wearing goes right to your head - and to your core - either one. The proximity does the same to him as he takes a handful of your ass, groping so that when you gasp and try to pull away, he administers a slap.

You can’t deny you’re horny for him, and the way his trousers frame his bulge perfectly - you lick your lips subconsciously at the thought - but you can almost hear the sadness of Mina pouring and downing Tequila shots by herself.

“Fucker,” you whisper and lean out of his hold almost, only to see that fire in his eyes.

“I love this ass,” hands now sneaking underneath the fabric of your dress - like it was covering much anyway, but that doesn’t change the way his cold fingers spread across your behind and almost make you moan out. It’s when he takes your bottom lip in his teeth and pulls back agonizing slowly until it pops back into place that the moan you were stifling releases, slowly, seductively, and his crotch stirs at the thought of you making the same noise around his dick.

But if Kook can restrain himself enough into denying you a fuck for 5 months, then you can be just as disciplined now - whether the wetness on your thighs tells you something different or not.

You toy with him though.

At a pace nothing short of tormenting, you lean your leg into the space between his, drag your lips across his cheek to his ear and let your fingers draw a line from the gap in his shirt, underneath and across his chest, “But you know what’s better than this ass, baby?” You play the seductress with you voice, and you know it does bits to him.

Your question was rhetoric, but when he doesn’t reply, you can’t help but grab at his belt with a hand and tug his crotch into your leg. He sputters out breathily into your neck, “W-what?”

You lean back, wait for his eyes to open and gage the lust and excitement brewing within them before opening your mouth against his…

“...Tequila shots.” You smack his thigh, turn and are out the door before his erection can say ‘shit’.

Two can play at his game of denial.

Your all kinds of worked up despite your best efforts, but Mina’s got lime in her mouth and her face crinkled into an expression of disgust as you eye the empty shot glass on the counter, so it’s not like she’s gonna be sniffing out your hormones any time soon.

“Fucking shit, rancid, I hate it, don’t wanna drink ever, absolutely not,” you laugh at her outburst as you refill her shot glass for yourself.

“Lightweight,” you tease her as you throw it all back, wincing internally as you feel the hole burn in your throat, but suck it up for the sake of your competitive streak. She merely scoffs at you as the bedroom door swings open, Jungkook - still a fine piece of ass right now - tucking his shirt into his trousers. No way did he just finish himself off in that time, but your eyes travel down to his hard on that is very much still there. You can’t help the smirk.

“Kook, get your shot down you then we’re off,” Mina announces.

“Taxi here already?” he questions but she shakes her head as she now sports a wine bottle in her hand, and clearly a mouth full of wine as she fails to verbalise.

Shots are down, wine is drunk, and heads are well and truly dizzy when you reach the club. The cab was early much to Mina’s dismay, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing the tequila bottle from Jungkook and downing a healthy portion of the liquid before collapsing in instant regret - ‘we’ve all been there Min’ was your only advice. As for Jungkook. Well, the boy never showed when he was drunk until he would take his shirt off and shout he was wasted, so the only way you could gauge his state was by the way his fingers dug into your thigh the entire journey - you just couldn’t work out whether it was the alcohol or his dick talking.

“Y/NNN!” you hear before see Jimin, despite the music that reverberates through the floor and up your body. As always, he has bottle in hand and a girl in the other, but he releases her to embrace you.

It’s a love, hate with Jimin, but he was Jungkook’s best friend, so there was and could not be bad blood between the two of you - much the same to Jungkook and Mina. Jimin swam as well, so you were no strangers to sharing situations that required great comfort with one alone - such as you in a swimming costume and him in his damn speedos. There was only one thing better than Jimin in speedos though, and that was Jungkook in speedos.

“Where’s your boyfriend, he owes me a fucking drink,” and you point to the bar, where he leans over the counter in all his glory and much to the fortune of your eyes. Jimin escorts himself and the girl he’s with over to the bar before you can catch her name - she’s pretty, though, which is no surprise with Jimin’s taste.

It takes the next 30 minutes, or possibly longer because alcohol tends to blur hours to minutes before you’ve made conversation with everyone there. It’s almost admin now, having to do the rounds when all the people from swimming go out - a swim captain apparently has certain obligations of seeing everyone had a drink in hand and a ride to go home in. Kook was doing the same too, across the club, slowly but surely making his way towards you as he talked to some of the guys. He’d winked one too many times at you for it to be coincidence, and the alcohol you’d been consuming was screaming out to you now to fuck the pointless conversation and grind on your damn fit boyfriend.

“Fuck Josh, Mel, the boy can’t even get it up, and you’re too much of a hot piece of ass to waste on him,” Mina’s on one of her motivational talks with the social sec, Mel - absolute sweetheart, heart of gold and awful taste in men. Also the subject of Mina’s subconscious flirting for the last hour or so, but you don’t have the heart to tell Mina to stop - she’s drunk and probably horny knowing her.

“Y/N,” you’re face first in your vodka red bull (double), to hear Mina, having zoned out from her pining after she started getting emotional. “Y/N!” You finally ease up on the drink when you hear her this time.

“Hmm?” mouth half full.

“Have you ever seen someone get eye fucked?” Her eyes flicker from you to something else, but you’re too caught up in the absurdity of her question to notice.

“The fuck?”

“Because I’m watching it happen right now,” and it’s a nod that finally directs your questioning gaze away from your best friend and to a figure at the bar, elbows tucked behind him, a bottle of beer at his side, legs to die for and eyes boring right into yours. He’s playing dirty tonight, is all you think. So despite the way your core tightens and the hair on your neck unknowingly rises, you feed into his game, the cat and mouse kind of thing he seems to be grabbing at, and put up your facade.

You're slow to get to him, but it’s deliberate. And instead of giving in to his gaze or his touch, you place your feet right beside his, leaning towards the bar and into the sight of the bartender.

It’s the raise of her eyebrows at you and the curt smile that prompts you to talk, “two shots of tequila please,” she begins to spin but you stop her, “oh, and plenty of salt and lime.”

It takes physical energy not to give in to human instinct - to touch and to grab him, to let go of the role play.

“Anyone would think you’re ordering for two,” his voice is gravely, and fuck if it doesn’t shoot straight down you. But his comment makes you smile, smirk actually.

“You say that as if I can’t handle my alcohol,” you raise an eyebrow to yourself, still feigning your confidence by not looking his way.

Two shots are lined up in front of you, limes perched on top, and a generously filled salt shaker to the left of them.

“Well tequila is a dangerous game to play,” you pick up either shot in your hand, and fight the urge to shiver as his words that are breathed against your ear. You round from the side of him, eyes finally lifting to his and filling some void that was there, but by no means lifting any tension between the two of you.

“Then let’s play dangerously,” you say, eyes sultry and him waiting on your every move, “the first one to have their salt, their shot and their lime gone first is the winner..”

“And what does the winning get?” Damn, he’s eager.

You lean in, but still don’t touch. “That’s for the winner to know, and the loser to find out.”

You can see a vague pick up in his breathing, a sheen of sweat forming against his brow and a vague smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth. Lifting the lime off your shot, he almost proceeds to do the same, about to take the shot to his lips but you stop him, instead pushing your shot into his vacant hand. The only explanation offered is when you take your lime down the column of your throat and down to your cleavage, before reaching to the salt that’s behind him. You pour a small mound of it onto your finger and follow the path that the lime drew. He eyes you like artwork, and doesn’t lift his gaze from your cleavage where you nestle the lime.

You pour more salt onto your forefinger, and his eyes finally lift in an expression of confusion, but words evade him - hell, he hasn’t taken a solid breath for the past minute. Slowly, tourturningly, you lean into him, carefully avoiding his shot, and catch his breath hitching as you press the point of your tongue into the base of his neck, dragging it upwards until you meet his jaw. You almost couldn’t stop yourself from proceeding further, drinking in the salty taste of him and eating away at his sanity with your tongue - but you refrain, all in the name of dramatic effect.

“Fuck,” is all he says as he keeps his breath hitched, and you push your finger down the line your tongue drew, spreading salt southwards.

He almost looks tapped out when you take his lime from between you, eyes completely glazed, and fortunately for you they blow out even further when you tug the belt of his trousers and place your lime in the waistband - like his erection wouldn’t have held it up anyways.

Retrieving one of the shots from his grasp, where his knuckles had turned white against the glass, you hold his gaze.

“I think you should go ahead,” you’re more breathy than you realised, even despite it being your game.

“I-I thought,” he has to clear his throat, “it’s who can do it the fastest,” it’s barely even a question with how quiet he mumbled the words - you’re not even sure he knew what he was saying.

“Who said I wanted to win, baby?” And he lets out a moan, a full blown moan before he encases your throat with his mouth, and he’s almost animalistic in the way he growls against your skin at the taste. He bites down when he reaches just above the lime and your eyes roll back unconsciously before opening to see him throw his head back with the shot, not a single wince in his eyes because they are so driven by desire. The shot glass is slammed behind him before he dives into your cleavage to retrieve the lime, and in some display of masculinity that almost has you keening he rips the lime from his mouth and tosses it behind you, juice rolling down his face and onto his jaw to linger with the line of salt that glistens there.

You don’t even realise you're on his throat until the overly salty taste pricks your mouth and you can feel his jaw tense beneath you. You're almost in a haze when the tequila sets your throat ablaze but you become fully conscious of the way he grabs a fistful of your hair, pushes you to the floor until your dress bunches and has you sucking at the lime that rests mockingly above his hard cock.

By some miracle you find yourself back up at eye level, chests heaving to the point of almost touching, and if you didn’t have a lime in your mouth right now you’d either be swearing obscenely in some gesture of saying ‘your so fucking hot’ or your lips would be around his dick.

With a gulp and a tilt of his head backwards, he gains a level of composure that allows him to ease the lime from your lips with his fingers, letting them brush at your skin to have you shivering.

It’s almost comical the way you both pant, eyes ablaze in each others, and completely oblivious to the outside world and how many, way too many people have seen your display. But there is nothing but the burn in your bodies right now as he grabs your hand wordlessly and drags you as fast as your heels will allow.

It’s like a switch had flipped in him somewhere back there. Even if this whole thing was roleplay, at least you knew how to play it with your boyfriend back there, knew the way he ticks and what would make his cock twitch - Jungkook’s normally easy to read like that. But when he almost breaks the disabled toilet door down with his hand, there is no game left to play - the restraints are off and the fire of lustful rage is fueled.

“You-” he slams you back against the door before its even swung shut and you can get a single word in. It’s carnal the way he’s latching onto your mouth, grabbing your hands that try to clasp at his neck and throw them up next to your head, and shoves a knee between your sopping thighs.

“I almost fucking came in my trousers back there when you got on your knees,” you don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so low and rough before but it courses through you more than the heavy bass of the club music. “You had me stood there ready to fuck your mouth open, but you thought you’d fucking tease your way through it.”

He’s domineering and your completely and utterly keening for it. Even more so when the grip he has on your wrist tightens and brings it down to his crotch, forcing your latch onto the erection that strains sinfully, painfully in his trousers and you feel intimidated enough at his display that you don’t palm him, don’t give him a pleasureful squeeze like you normally would when you had more control of your emotions. But you're shocked and fucked out - beyond that even.

“You feel that shit. Fuck, I’ve never been this hard before,” you moan out lowly, finding it increasingly difficult to control your breathing, the nature of the lust in your body calling out for some friction on your body. But he stands there, eyes ablaze, panting his taunting remarks into your agape mouth. “You’re making it so damn hard not to fuck you.”

“Do it,” you whisper without even knowing and neither does Jungkook because the ringing in both of your ears is deafening.

“I’ve always wanted to see you fall apart around my cock… lose it as I fuck you,” his crotch starts riveting into your hand and you know he’s imaging what it would feel like with his dick nestled deep in your walls right now, “God I want to pound into you.”

“Fuck.”

Fuck, because never have his words been so dirty before.

“You’re so damn hot I actually can’t control myself right now,” and his dick follows his words. Your hand now acts as your pussy - in his head anyway - as the friction of his trousers begins sending him neck deep in pleasure.

You actually think you could come from watching it. How his head now bows into your neck and his teeth set into your skin because he can’t even control how slack his jaw has become. The way he’s getting harder and harder against your hand and his movements are constantly seeking more. Fucking hell, you’re both fully clothed, his dicks rock hard in his pants but he’s so pent up on you and the desire you’ve caused that he’s chasing an orgasm basically untouched.

“I- oh fuck.”

“Come on baby,” you feed him, words moaned against his ear and hand flattening more purposefully against him, “fuck me harder.”

“Argh- fuc-fucking hell,” he’s spurred on by the illusion you offer. His eyes rolled back in his head as he imagines the feeling of being balls deep in you.

“Think how good I’d feel. Fuck, you’d be so deep uhh,” you moan out at the end as the harshness of the way his hips snap into yours causes your hand nestled between you to deliciously rub on your clit.

You hadn’t realised that your dress had ridden up in the commotion of you sex driven states, that your ass was pressed up against the cool surface and gave you goosebumps despite the way you body oozes heat, that you panties were so wrecked by your arousal that your hand might as well be rubbing you raw. And with Jungkook’s quickening pace, the friction against your clit makes you all too driven to seek your end as well as his. It’s filthy.

“Ko-uh. Fuck, Kook, I need you fingers- ah,” your walls are throbbing at the thought, but his teeth remain deep set in the junction between your neck and shoulder, his hips still thrusting up and into your hand, so you think you’re desire has gone unheard.

But all too quickly, he forgets the end he was chasing.

Suddenly, he backs away from you, leaving you untouched and leaning forward into the air, whilst his cock screams in the confines of his trousers. He growls at the way he had to stop himself from cumming too soon.

“Baby,” it’s a whine from the back of your throat that you had no plan to release. But the way your chest heaves and your thighs cross one another for friction just spells to you and him just how inflamed your body is.

His eyes move away from your desperate ones, and his neck reclines back as he swallows - trying with all his strength to keep it together, to not cum from merely watching your cleavage, drenched in his and your sweat, rise and fall with the way your breathing staggers. Watching him is torture for yourself, but you don’t want to miss the way his cock throbs.

You have no idea how long you’re there, him grappling at his sanity and you watching him.

“Baby, I-”

“Fuck, don’t talk,” his face almost contorts in pain and his head lowers into his chest to halt his urge to look at you.

But, you’re horny and you're a brat, so you persist.

“Jungkook, I need you right now.”

Silence falls for a mere second.

Like a man possessed he lunges back towards your body, and before you can react he’s on his knees violently pushing the thin fabric of your dress up and ripping your panties down your legs.

“What don’t you understand about shut the fuck up.” And with that he’s on your clit, hands shoving your legs in opposite directions and over his shoulders so you lose your balance and end up speared on his tongue.

“Kook!” It’s a cry that’s shouted into the air when your head is thrown back - a reaction to both the immense feeling that tightens at your core and a warning to the man below you that you might just crush him.

But he’s devouring your pussy whole. He’s no longer tending to your clit, but lapping his tongue up and down the entire expanse of your slit, letting the muscle of his tongue slip into your entrance making your stomach drop every time. He’s hellbent on making you cum that’s for sure, because no matter the tug of your hands at his scalp to let up even just a little, he’s growling into you and plunging deeper.

You want to pull away, to finally take a break from the intense pressure on your core or maybe to breathe for the first time since he decided to drop to his knees. But you’re feet don’t touch the ground, literally, and he’s suspending you on his tongue.

His hands push you down further onto him and he growls into you, vibrations coursing through you that almost makes you cum then and there. But he breaks away.

“Fuck,” he sounds fucked out himself, taking in all the air he can, because god knows he was eating your pussy like it was oxygen. “Baby, you gotta cum on my tongue, please.”

He was the one eating you out, yet you had him pleading. Boy always did submit in the end, whether he liked it or not.

“Fingers then. Use your fingers,” and he obeys, releasing your thigh in favour of thrusting two of his digits deep into you. All your weight goes onto his shoulders and the two fingers set so far into your womb that you were crying out in pleasure. It wasn’t until his mouth resumed sucking on your clit that you lost all control of your tongue and rambled into the air like a mad woman.

“F-Fuckkk Kook. I want ah- fuck I want your cum inside me. I want your dick so bad,” he’s moaning with you and with your words, being spurred on by the image you paint. He curls his fingers deep inside you, and you lose yourself on the feeling - being so stimulated that you miss the fact you’re grinding on his face, thrusting up as if his fingers were really his cock. He’s moaning at it, at the way your pace picks up on his tongue and you’re seeking your end.

“Don’t stop, oh fuck, oh fuck, please- don’t stop.”

You’re driving yourself deeper and deeper into him and fuckkk if the pleasure hasn’t taken over your senses beyond belief. Your stomach pulls so tight with the need to release that you’re grappling at the strands of hair on the back of your boyfriend’s head and using them to anchor yourself. He’s purely a mouth and two fingers to fuck yourself on at this moment and you couldn’t stop yourself even if you tried.

“Shit, fuckk,” his fingers start going at a rate, not even your hips can keep up with, and he’s so deep you almost choke like the pressure inside you has reached up into your throat.

“Come on baby, fuck,” his gravelly voice seeks out for you to come all over him.

“Holy fuckin-” the feeling comes on so intense inside of you that you struggle to warn him, your breathing constricted almost into nothingness. You feel like you’re about to cum with such strength that you might die.

“I can’t Kook- oh fuckk.”

“Give it to me.”

His teeth clamp down on your clit at the same time as his fingers curl against that spot inside you that suddenly has everything spiralling at once.

“Don’t stoppp, don’t stop, oh fuck,” you sputter into the air as a band snaps in your lower stomach, blood pumping everywhere and anywhere in your body so that your hips begin spasming and convulsing on top of his mouth.

He whines into you as his mouth keep fastening all too strongly against your bud. It’s when the pressure that keeps falling in your stomach and Kook is forced to pull his fingers out of you that you feel your juices spill and keep spilling all over you and him.

“Holy fuck baby… Y/N shit.”

You tumble further and further and miss the noises that are pushed from your throat. In the intensity of the pleasure you also miss the way Jungkook’s body, his tongue on your clit, his fingers on your thigh and the ones lodged deep inside you, all tense up.

Shit.

You wonder if you’ve blacked out when the slump of your body takes over, the eventual air you take in in one large breath making your senses begin to come back all too strong. You’re broken from the waist down, legs numb to the point you can barely feel Jungkook’s teeth tight on your thigh and breath glazing the skin strongly. Shit, you can’t even feel how wet you are yet.

You know the weight he’s bearing on his shoulders, but you can’t muster the strength to move, merely loosening your hands from how tight they were wound in his locks and instead soothing down to his neck with your trembling fingers.

Finally, the spin in your head stops and your eyes are open enough so that you can look down at the sight below you.

He’s breathless and wet. Wet from sweat and the way you’d just squirted all over his tongue, fingers and trousers - well that’s what you figure anyways. His eyes are sewn shut though in the aftermath of it all, and your thoughts begin to piece together.

“Baby, you good?” you’re scared he has too much literal weight on his shoulders. You’re also scared he’s still painfully hard. “Kook?” and finally a coherent mumble of ‘yeh’ against your thigh tells you, no, you didn’t just kill your boyfriend by cumming on his face.

It’s a slow process the way he lets your legs down, and you wince as he does so because you swear his fingers just split you open. You also forgot about the heels practically taped to your feet, stumbling a little one foot at a time as he lowers you off his shoulders.

His eyelids still hang low, and he makes no move to join you at eye level, instead, pressing his face into your thigh and running his ragged breath there for too long.

“Fuck, seriously, you good baby?” your pussy still throbs, but your boyfriend is too still for you to take notice.

And suddenly he’s laughing. Wholeheartedly laughing into your skin, back, that’s slicked with sweat, raising up and down as he does so.

“Shit,” is all he says when his eyes, crinkled in laughter and exhaustion finally meet yours, peering up from his squat. It’s infectious and has you laughing too, albeit half heartedly because your throat hurts and you’re not sure if your lungs can take much more unnatural breathing.

“You literally just made me cum in my pants.”

Fuck. You’re eyes bulge and pass between the look of disbelief of his face, to the, now, very noticeable stain on his crotch, and back again. Boy literally just came untouched because you can still feel the imprint of one hand on your thigh and you’re pretty sure the other hand was occupied if you remember correctly.

“What the fuck!” Is all you can say.

“Yeh, I know ‘what the fuck!’ Sorry but since when could you squirt.” His legs are still shaking beneath him. “It made me just fucking shoot my load on sight.”

You’re laughing, bending at the waist to help the poor boy up to his feet, and he accepts the help as he finally towers over you and meets your eyes - both looking at each other with warmth and a vague emotion of disbelief, because as if he just came in his pants!

“Seriously, don’t know what the hell you just did to me, but I don’t think I’ll ever be that turned on ever in my life again,” he’s sputtering out now like a boy charged on drained hormones and ageing drunkness.

You laugh at his state and the way his eyes still bulge, grabbing the skin of his neck that’s thick with sweat and push a kiss to his lips. It doesn’t linger because you’re too spent and oxygen is like gold dust to you right now.

“So you enjoyed yourself I’m guessing?”

“Fucking hell did I!” You both can’t stop the way your laughter spills at the situation.

You see his shoulders eventually relax, his breathing less frequent and the look in his eyes turns soft.

“Fuck, I’m so in love with you.” Despite your heart still beating like it’s on steroids, you feel it skip a beat, equal to the way you can’t help the tug on the corners of your mouth.

“Cringy bastard,” you whisper next to his lips, a whole new warmth spreading through you at the way his eyes are filled with adoration.

“Only for you.”

“You make me sick.” But in your head, you’re saying the opposite, because you can’t fight the blush despite how generic his cringe worthy compliments hit.

With clothes vaguely realigned, you’re ready to join society once again, albeit hobbling, but your boyfriend refuses to break the bubble you’re in for just a second longer.

“Say it back.” And when you turn from the door to him, he’s actually pouting, eyes a little less bright as though you’re unspoken words have hit harder than you realised. “Please.”

Your relationship with Kook was built off backhanded compliments and competitive sarcasm, both equally easy-going people with a knack for not taking anything seriously. It was how you two worked. But there’s some things you can’t feign, and the way he said “I love you” with deliberate sadness was one of those things, because hell, you sure loved him too.

His cheeks nestled in both of your palms now as your soft eyes met his ones, vulnerable with the way he’d bared himself and pleaded after you, you spoke softly.

“I love you.”

---------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck you, Kook. Stop acting like you own me.”

“Then don’t try to sleep with the whole swim team.”

Dick.

This shit is rare. Fighting Jungkook is rare. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Because whilst you’re both too easy going for your own good and take most things on the chin, jealousy hurts like a bitch.

“Jesus you’re fucking testing my patience.” You settle yourself deep in his kitchen, long strides over there because his presence alone is making you want to rip hairs out of your skull. But he’s there soon after, leaning to try to get into your line of sight as you busy yourself with a glass and fuck, where’s that bottle of wine.

“Nah, don’t act like I’m pushing you. I asked you why Jimin’s asking to meet you, and you can’t come up with a damn straight answer or show me your phone.” You find the wine in the fridge, pretending Jungkook is background noise like the petty bitch you are, but his words are ringing in your head louder than you care for. “Don’t treat me like I’m delusional.”

You slam the bottle down a little too hard on the counter and his eyes jump to the sound. But your expression is dead set, angry, persistent, but he’d say stubborn.

“You’re actually dumb. The whole fucking issue is that I shouldn’t have to tell you why someone texts me or not.” His mouth opens to argue but you’re off on one, “Whether it’s Jimin, whether it’s my mum, whether it was your fucking maintenance guy, it’s my phone, don’t check it, and don’t pretend you’re entitled to.”

His eyes narrow and you almost think there’s something in him contemplating your words, maybe, just maybe trying to hear you out and understand where you’re coming from. But if you were stubborn, then Jungkook was competitive - he wouldn't stop until you thought he was right.

“Why the fuck did he text you.”

You want to scream. You want to smash his glass against the floor and scream fucking murder. But instead you find your body tensing and you face heating up with the need to cry. He’s getting in your head and you hate it, because he’s never like this. He’s easy. He’s such good company and probably your best friend but why is he making it so hard to like, let alone love him right now.

“Fuck it. Here,” you fish in your pocket, eyes still on his despite the feeling of them heating up and the wetness pooling. You unlock your phone and push it to his chest. “God knows, we were just trying to arrange something for your birthday without you finding out, but you and your fucking jealousy can’t take that, can they Kook?”

You have so much more to say. Your head is spinning with the need to empty your gut of all the words you want to throw at him. About how jealousy is certainly not a virtue in this case, about how you can’t bear that he doesn’t trust you despite all you’ve given up for him, about how damn unfair he is being right now. But you hit his shoulder with yours and are half walking half running to his bathroom before you can contemplate what you’re doing.

“Y/N, fuck,” and of course now he’s apologetic. Calling after you in a tone that screams innocence but to you, he is anything but that right now.

You close the door with haste and push your back against it even faster.

The worst part is you’re not even that angry anymore. The tears fall in sadness.

“Baby,” his knock rattles the door but only gently in an attempt to be sensitive with you. He’s fucked up and he knows that, but there’s a combination of not wanting him to see you cry and the need to be away from him for a minute that has you still sitting by the door, not making any attempt to open it.

“Baby, I didn’t know- I wouldn’t have.”

“Jungkook can you give it a rest for one minute,” you sound pained. You feel it as well. Maybe you’re overreacting, you think, as you hear him sigh and mumble an ‘okay’ before his footsteps peter out into another room.

You cry more and continue to do so as you begin to run the bath, and then more tears flow when you watch yourself in the mirror as you tug at your stained cheeks with a cloth. Your tears are still wet on your cheeks when you lower yourself into the warm water and become absorbed in the feeling of it, melting away until you fall into the slumber of sleep. It’s the same slumber that doesn’t cause you to be startled when the door creaks open, your boyfriend pausing to take in your state before he strips himself down to join you.

You know he’s there when he gently sinks into the water behind you, but you make no attempt to move out of the way his knees encase you. His touch is apprehensive and careful, and you can practically hear the thoughts in his head move at a thousand miles an hour.

You know Jungkook. You know all too well that right now, he’s cut up inside, thinking of every way possible to take back time and to undo the stupid shit he was spouting earlier. He’s thinking about how fucked up he was to let jealousy do that to him, to get the better of his, and he’s thinking of every which way to make it right to you. You know, because you’re the same. We’re all in the wrong at some point, and everyone is more than the worst thing they’ve ever done.

So you grab at his hands that still hover in the air with unspoken uncertainty and you pull them to yourself, tight, and on your neck there is a desperate sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry,” his tone is so apologetic you almost start crying all over again, but exhaustion and the need to forgive are all too strong. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I-”

You know there are more words he wants to say, maybe to show you how bad he feels, maybe he’ll try and justify himself, but either way, you’re pushover ass forgave him before the argument even happened. You also simply like the boy too goddamn much to see him splutter in your neck because he’s scared he’ll lose you.

With your lips pressed to the back of his hands that you’ve encased in yours, you mutter, “Shhh, I know you are.”

The water sloshes in the distance somewhere as he pulls you tighter to him like you’re an anchor and if he lets you go he’ll be lost. Kisses are placed down your neck gently and you let your eyes flutter shut again because you can’t lie in that he is the most comforting place to you right now.

Silence falls but not uncomfortably, fingers brushing skin like its china and breathing soft as you both give into each others touch.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

Maybe you are too forgiving Your mother always told you you were - ‘people won’t be so kind to your patience one day Y/N.’ - that’s what she’d told you. And she’s probably right that one day you’ll come to find that you’ve been used and abused for all the ‘it's okay’s’ and ‘I forgive you’s’ you’d uttered. But you didn’t use forgiveness as an easy way out, you used it when it was deserved. And Jungkook’s jealousy, whilst fucking annoying, was a human instinct - possibly more of a male instinct than female, you think - but it’s a natural reaction all the same. Compromise instead of conclusion.

“You have to start trusting me, you know.”

“I know,” a hasty response, maybe because he actually has realised he needs to trust you or maybe he just doesn’t want to prolong discussion. You hope and believe the first,

“You can’t keep this jealousy thing up. Particularly not with Jimin, I don’t want to be the reason your shit is ruined, it’s too good.”

The two of them best friends from the womb. But boys apparently will be boys and think any dick that goes near their girlfriend is aiming for one place and one place only, whether 21 years into friendship or not.

“I know.” The repeat of words makes you think he’s not listening to you, but then he sighs. “It’s just- I can’t- Fuck! He drives me up the wall, says all kinds of shit behind your back and mine about how fit you are because he knows it grills me.” This is new. “And then he sends you texts when I didn’t even know you had each others number and you won’t tell me what they are. It just fucked with my head and when you end up picturing the worst it’s hard to get that picture out of your head.”

It made sense, and he was getting angry with himself by the way his tone spiked, so you diffuse the tension.

“Hmm but if you weren’t so jealous your birthday wouldn’t have been ruined,” you feel his head slump and then he laughs, and you laugh, and then he’s squeezing you and forcing your eyes to his.

“You make me mental that’s why,” you’re close but he makes no move to kiss you, “and I’m sorry that I got like that when I had no reason to do so. I’ll change that I promise,” he sounded sincere, looked sincere, and you’re a sucker for the way he’s naked and so close his breath hits your smile that you’re kissing him before you can feign trust.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“You know you almost got me in big shit the other day,” the bell rings above your head as you and Jimin leave the cold in favour of the warmth of the bar. Thursday nights didn’t call for many people, so you found a seat easily at a booth, casual wear on and smile dancing across that idiots face.

“Kook told me.” Of course he did, “As if he got his dick caught between his legs because I sent you a text. Like does he really think I’d shag you.”

You scoff, “Cheers for that.”

“You know what I mean. If I got the chance I’d fucking take it, but Kook’s my brother,” and to be fair you did know what he meant. In fact it was a miracle Jungkook had been all calm and breezy when you’d told him you were meeting Jimin for drinks - maybe it was this new thing he was trying called ‘play it cool and let her do her own thing’ - even so, you liked it.

You end up ordering beers, after all, it is only a Thursday so that means no hard spirits, but it’s also the afternoon so that means alcohol.

“I’m glad to hear you’re not gonna pounce Jim.” He laughs, you laugh, thank god, because ever since you and Jungkook had shouted about the texting and Jimin issue, you were scared you’d have to keep a distance from the boy to prevent awkwardness. “How you been anyways?”

“Is that another way of saying who’ve I fucked since we last spoke,” his eyebrows wiggle like he’s got something to be proud about.

“Jesus, you only do think with your dick don’t you?”

“Come onn, ask me who I took home the other night,” he’s leaning forward with a smile that you want to smother, but you humour him for the sake of conversation.

“Which unlucky bird shared your bed the other night then?” You say it with a downward tone to express your distaste for the way your conversation has headed. You also nod a thank you to the waiter who’d brought beers over, pint on either side of the table.

“Well, maybe you should ask your roommate.”

Beer must fly out of your nose, mouth and ears with the way you choke. Literally, you’re spluttering everywhere and he’s laughing and you’re sure it’s a sick joke, but his smile says otherwise.

“She’s fucking gay!” That’s all you come up with. You know your roommate like the back of your hand, or so you think, and every part of you is wracking every part of your brain right now for some conversation where she said she’d shag Jimin, or shag a guy in fact. Nope, nothing.

“I thought so too, clearly she didn’t.” You’re angry at him by the way you scoff and take another long sip of your beer but you don’t even know why. Maybe you’re angry at her, but that also kind of feels invalid.

“As if she didn’t tell me.” He just shrugs. “... nah what the fuck man!”

“Listen, talk to her about it. I’m pretty sure I was mad drunk, so was she, and she left before I woke up so…” The last bit sounds about right, Mia was never one for sticking around for morning cuddles, but it’s all just wrong and it’s stewing in your head like a bad memory.

You're still questioning your entire existence it seems like when the conversation moves onto why you’re really here, or as Jimin says it, “So if the fucker knows we’re doing something for his birthday now, does that mean we actually have to do it?”

God, he’s hard to talk to. You find yourself for half your conversations with Jimin either saying ‘fuck off’ or your scoffing. You do the latter now.

“We were doing something anyway, don’t act like you don’t care. But yeh, he knows, so why don’t we just fucking put in money for alcohol and bud and hit up the beach or something at Hobi’s. Simples.”

Jimin downs his pint - it’s a Thursday and you don’t know why - and then nods, “Yeh, sounds like I can fuck with that. But let’s tell Taehyung cos he’s rich and loves weed more than the next person.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Like hell was there booze and weed. Taehyung had done the most, with Namjoon, and there was enough for 200 people to get fucked 10 times over, which with the 70 people that were apparently already at the beach, seemed like a mass death wish.

Hoseok, poor Hoseok, was hosting. You’d asked and he’d accepted like the selfless man he is and also because he loves Jungkook like a mother loves her child. It wasn’t his uni place, but his parent's beach house on the part of the coast where the beach stretched 20 yards deep and the water felt like the arctic on your skin, but even so, the parties out there were sick.

You can just tell by the boyish grin on your boyfriends face he knows exactly the way this route takes you, the taxi driver, however, keeps giving you evils through the mirror probably because this journey is long and you’re not even on a real road at this point. But the vodka already in your system means you don’t care and you hold Jungkook’s hand in full-fledged excitement.

You swear you’re not corny.

He keeps his hand in yours even when you pay the driver, and tightens it further when everyone around the back of the cabin rings out in a chorus of ‘surprise’. He even holds your hand when he’s handed both a beer and a joint, somehow juggling them both in his free one.

Somewhere along the line between sharing conversations and drinking yourself silly, he whispers a ‘thank you’ in your ear, and presses a grateful kiss onto your lips.

The sun had been low for a while, with the expanded horizon offering the perfect view to watch it set.

Still not corny, you promise.

But the smoke flowing through your system and the light hum of alcohol to accompany it just doesn’t allow for you to leave his side. Even through conversation after conversation, ‘happy birthday’ handshakes that made him switch which hand he was holding you with just so he didn’t let go, and even when the boys attempted a birthday bumps, you were there, glued tight.

“Fuck it, I wanna skinny dip!” Oh Jimin, oh that poor poor boy and his utterly delusional brain.

“Mate, that’s the high talking, leave it out.” You’re glad your boyfriend speaks sense when intoxicated because Tae’s there behind him clapping his back, encouraging him.

“Jim, legit 5 degrees right now, your dick’ll fall off if you go anywhere close to the sea.” And Namjoon, also ever with the straight head. Ah, you say that, but when you turn to the geez he chucks the small end of a lit blunt in his mouth and then swallows it down with beer - I guess his head will be going sideways now, in T-minus 5 seconds.

“You guys are pussys, my dick’ll just shrivel a bit…”

“Fucking rancid, don’t wanna hear it.” Throwing your half empty beer can also seems to do the trick of shutting him up about his dick as he hangs his jaw that’s dripping with beer, warm from being half finished.

“Bitch.”

“Oi! None of that, Park.” Jungkook’s tone is serious but he’s smiling all the same, content in the setting he’s in, not despite of but because of the deluded conversation, the weird dynamic you guys all have, the way he’s just himself, and the fact you’re there too, with a vice grip on his hand.

It’s all breathy laughs and the occasional pressing of lips on your neck from where you’re sat on your boyfriend’s lap, as the conversation delves from somewhere between Jimin’s sex life (surprise surprise) to what Hoseok would look like on steroids - the mutual group decision, so, so, wrong.

“Baby, I wanna get going.”

“Hm?” You were caught in laughter and didn’t think you heard him right, so you turn in his lap to throw an arm around his shoulder, all eyes and ears for your man.

“I kind of wanna get going home.”

You’re surprised, looking through the glaze in his eyes to see if he’s too stoned or not having a good time, but you just see him content gaze, boring adoration into yours. Leaving now would also make you the first to leave, and it was his party.

“You wanna go like right now, right now?”

“Mmm,” and there’s something you can't pinpoint in his expression, apprehension maybe.

“Okay, should I be worried? You’re good right?”

And his head drops to make you think ‘shit’, but then he’s laughing, shoulders shaking under your tense arms before he grabs at your face and places a kiss on either cheek. The blush creeps up on you before you can hide your face in his shoulder.

“I’m fine, so good.” It’s almost a shout of a confession as he throws his head back to demonstrate the emotion behind the words, but the way his smile lifts to his eyes tells you all you need to know. You’re still not quite getting why the happy boy you’re perching on wants to ditch his own surprise party, but each to their own, you think.

“Okay? You’re sure you don’t want to stay?”

Affirming you’re correct with a head shake, he leans in once again, squeezing at your sides ungraciously tight before smashing his lips to yours in a rough, open mouthed kiss that is neither something you were ready for or something you’re about to do with Jimin and Namjoon next to you.

So, you’re both laughing, him attempting to plaster his lips to your face and you swatting as his arm that fixes you in place to him.

“Kook fu- baby,” you begin to scramble away and he lets you, laughing out at the way you flatten your hair and fumble at you jeans as a means to compose yourself, “Time and a place, you dick.”

Stares and smiles are all you give each other as the ambient sounds of others continue around you. It’s like that with him - the world keeps buzzing around you but you’re not in that world, you’re somewhere too deep in his.

Please believe me, you’re not cringy!

“Come back,” hand out, legs spread wide to make room for you and you cannot help the way your feet appease his every word.

You’re eyes down on him, and his up at you, blown full with love, lust and everything in between and you settle in the warmth of his proximity and in the heat of his gaze.

“I love you.”

So you kiss him, because, “I love you too Kook.”

“Now order that fucking taxi, I wanted to go all of two hours ago.” And there he is, earning himself another smack to the arm.

“You bastard, you’re lucky I’m whipped.”

“Yeh you fucking are Y/N!” Jimin can suck a dick, the wanker. Throwing a final middle finger up to the offending boy and holding the other hand out for your boyfriend, you get onto the route home.

Silence is not always a bad thing. You’d told yourself that the whole way home. You especially knew how car journeys when inconceivably high and drunk could make the head spin and the voice mute, but neither of you were inconceivably high or drunk. His hand was still there on yours from beach to taxi, taxi to apartment, apartment to bedroom, but the smile was gone.

“Baby, what’s wrong, talk to me.”

“Mmm?” Playing it off, yet he still won’t look at you - the boy never could do confrontation or telling you what he wants.

He’s across the room, carrying the tea he’d made you to your side of the bed when you told him you’d felt a headache coming on. And you’re there just watching, the moping, the shrug and the way he now stops as you reach out your hand to tug at his shirt.

“Oi, look at me.” Eventually, and what looks like with effort, he does. “You gonna talk to me now, or what?” And you begin to worry at the way his gaze digs into your face, eyes pouring emotion that is scattered in so many different directions you can’t keep up. Is he sad? Nervous? Why would he be nervous?

“I love you.” There’s more to be said just in the way those three words come out, and it scares you.

“Okayy…”

“Like I really love you. So much sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing with you.”

“Koo-” He grabs at your neck and finally takes control of his voice, no longer apprehensive and filled with mixed signals, but so affirmative that it takes every word from your mouth.

“You’ve waited for me Y/N. So fucking long. I’ve been shit to you as well recently. I just can’t fathom that you’re here and you’re mine and it fucking scares me, you have to get that.” Eyes well on both his and your side, as words unspoken, are finally spilt. Maybe it’s the occasion or the alcohol but you don’t care. “Everything about you is everything I ever want and what happens if I fuck it up and lose it. I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you.” It’s a mantra spoken by him on so many occasions, like if he says it, it’ll never happen.

“And what if I feel the same, Kook.” Forehead to forehead now and so deep into the caverns of his eyes, you’d give him your whole soul if he asked.

“You do?.. Feel the same?” You’re sure he knows you do. You’re sure he hasn’t been deaf to the thousands of ‘I love you’s’ and wholehearted confessions made by you. But he’s fragile to the extent that he needs to hear it. Needs to hear you say that you’re willing to lose everything here.

In a passing breath you whisper your confession, “yes,” and he squeezes at the hairs at the back of your neck that stand on end with every goosebump in your body.

The tears fall just as he puts his lips to yours and oxygen becomes gold dust with the way you’re so breath taken. But it’s the happy kind of breath taken, that feeling right before christmas as a kid when you know everything’s waiting for you on the other side of sleep, that feeling where the sinking dries up in your stomach and every fibre of you body buzzes uncontrollably, the kind of breath taken where you smile and laugh in full-fledged giddiness.

Pulling away, you do just that, laugh against his mouth, smile without thought, and despite the tears that drip onto your lips you keep kissing at him, peck after peck because he’s laughing and crying with you.

Fuck, this was the moment you were converted to cringe. You didn’t give two shits about it either.

“I thought you were about to fucking break up with me, you absolute knob!” He thumb scoops up the tears as he laughs at you, sniffling to himself in the emotion of the moment that you two were still somewhere swept up in.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe.”

Before the last tear is swept away at the motion of his thumb on your cheek, Kook ducks down and sweeps you up, over his shoulder and then with a not so forgiving thump to your back, you hit the bed - looks like he forgot his bed was made of fucking rocks, great for sex though, no squeak. And suddenly it dawns on you as hard as you just hit that mattress. That look in his eyes, now, earlier at the beach, the entire strung out fucking monologue he just gave you. All in the name of sex.

“Can we- you want to- do it.”

Fuck, it’s actually happening.

You suppress the butterflies with a laugh that surfaces from the way he stutters.

“Well, what the fuck dyou want me to say. We’ve waited 5 months and you want me to just say, ‘oi Y/N, let me fuck you’.”

But the laughing doesn’t seize.

“I’m sure fucking not saying I want to make love to you, because imagine that gettin relayed to the boys. Instantly my dick goes from a 7 on hard to a 5.”

“Aw babe, give yourself credit, you’re at least a 5 and a half.”

“Bitch.”

And with that he presses his full weight into you, smiling into the kiss that sucks deep into your lips, harsh but tender in all the right places. It turns you on the way he goes slow with you, maps outlines on your skin with his touches, and it makes you even hornier when his boner slowly grows into the meat of your thigh.

It’s a moan in response to him biting your lip that has him off you and flipping the position so you straddle him. But tight jeans don’t accommodate for being on top, the fucking inconvenient bitch, so it’s with the slow teasing pace, that he seems to be going for, that you take as the jeans come off.

“Fuck,” is whispered somewhere between you purchasing yourself right on his crotch and the way you raise you crop top over naked breasts.

This is not uncharted territory. The two of you aren’t nuns who have abstained from everything and anything in your relationship. No, you’re far from holy. But the way your boyfriend gapes, eyes blown and breathing sharp, he’s like a virgin on steroids.

When you lean into his body, claiming his lips once again you notice the shaking, the way his body uncontrollable shivers underneath you despite the perspiration that soaks through his shirt.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” you whisper into his mouth, and he simply nods a frantic ‘yes’ against you. “Kook, calm down, relax, baby,” and after grasping gently at his chin to pry his lips off yours, you find his gaze, eyes blown in lust and fear.

“Okay? I’m all yours,” you take his hand and lead it to your breast, then ushering it towards the steady beat of your heart, felt beneath trembling fingertips. “All yours.”

Running your hands over the tension in his biceps, you attempt to put him at ease with the roll of your hips. His bulge hadn’t gone unnoticed for a second and it was perfectly place with the tip resting on your clit, that you could probably both go to town like that - who said romance was dead!

“Fuck Y/N.”

“There you go,” you push him on, sucking into the rift between his neck and his shoulders and strong arms now scoop over and round to your ass. The squeeze is convincing, hard enough that you don’t fight back the moan and hard enough that your hips move that little bit harsher.

Breaths are heavy in your ear as you find yourself slipping deeper into the pleasure of the moment, but you know he’ll never take the initiative and make the first move.

“You’re so hard Kook.”

A groan in all he responds as you hit that spot just on his tip that he loves so much.

“I want you so bad.”

“Fuck, me too,” and desperation for more than the slow grind you opted for overcomes him. Lips latch onto yours in a harsh display as he flips you once again.

You can’t help but smirk to yourself, pure filthy excitement taking over the fibres of your body as he stares down at you now, hungry and horny.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this so bad for so long Y/N you have no idea.”

“Off,” and he gets the message with how his shirt is off and somewhere across the room without his dick leaving its place nestled in your crotch.

“I’ve been dying to have you, all of you.” His teeth are clawing at the skin of your neck as he pants out his dirty confession to the rhythm of his hips.

“You’ve been dying to fuck me, Kook?” It’s a teasing tone, but there’s no hiding the breathiness behind your voice.

“Fuck yeh.”

“Then go ahead and fuck me.”

When his gaze meets yours, his eyes are wide and disbelieving. But you’re more focused on the stain of his lips from sunken teeth and the way his hair sticks to his face from sweat. You also haven’t failed to miss the bare, toned torso pressed neatly onto your chest - abs to die for and v lines that leave the eyes wandering an unholy amount of southward.

“You want me to go in raw?” You feign laughter at how giddy he looks at the prospect.

“Birth controls a saint innit.”

“Fuck, I’m scared I’ll come in two seconds.” Great turn on. You think, you don’t say.

His trousers are off fast but when it comes to your panties, he’s calculated in the way he lowers himself to eyes level with your core, breathing haphazardly in his lust induced state into the material that he proceeds to run down the length of your leg and off at your feet.

Eyes trail up your body as he crawls his way back to your now exposed core, “Jesus, you’re so sexy.”

“Jungkook! What would God say if he heard you talk about his son that way!”

His head literally drops and he groans, as if the turn off button hadn’t already been switched when he told you he’d blow his load as soon as dick met pussy.

“I literally have no words Y/N.”

“Well, you better put that mouth to better use then baby.”

“Bitch.”

But his tongue is darted out and into your folds, no matter the reluctance, and he soon finds that same taste, bitter and sweet all at once that draws him in every fucking time.

“Fuck Kook.” The reaction is instant, spine arched away from the mattress as his tongue sets to work inside you, darting in and out so fast that your hips couldn’t keep up if they tried. It’s when he flattens it against your clit and the hand once pinning down a thigh pushes two fingers in so fucking deep that the moans spill.

“Shit that’s tight,” he mutters to himself more than anyone as his delving fingers reach that spot that has you stringing his name and curses into an aimless sentence. And the scene below you is even hotter than the feeling at your core, Jungkook, nestled between your legs with lips to clit, hand to pussy, and hips rutting desperately into the mattress. He’s a whole fucking view and it has you keening with your hands rooted in his hair that are telling him wordlessly not to let up.

When his eyes meet yours, you knows its game over, smirk overtaking his features as his fingers piston and fuck you open, thumb taking over the role his lips had on your clit just so he gets to watch you fall apart under him.

“That’s it baby, cum for me.”

“Holy fuc- shitt. Jungkook.” And your moans are the hottest things he’s ever heard as you tumble into a hell of a fucking orgasm. Shocks ripple through your body with the rate of his fingers and everything pulses as you cum, and keep fucking cumming.

Kook can barely help the way his cock seeks better friction against the mattress because of the bliss written on your face. And he almost forgets to let up on the frantic way his fingers still fuck you because your glistening chest lifting up and down in the light has his focus completely elsewhere.

“Kook, I can’t.”

“Sorry baby,” he lets up with one final kiss to your clit, the jolt of pain and pleasure causing you to whine briefly. His cock twitches at the sound.

“Y/N I’m so hard, please.”

You drag him up with the hand still woven deep in his locks so he’s eye level, and dick level with the place he wants it most. Wordlessly and still driven by the buzz from your orgasm, your hand guides him into you and fuck if the moan against your mouth isn’t the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“Holy fuck.” Nestling his head into the crook of your neck with deep breaths to accompany it, you can tell he’s trying to hold back the feeling of his balls tightening and ignore the way you still pulse from your orgasm. It’s tight and it’s so fucking bare because he’s never gone raw before. Fuck, neither of you have had sex in six months so the feeling might just make you both combust on the spot.

“Slowly baby, it’s been a while.” You’d known he’d reach your stomach just from the way he fucked your throat every other day - his girth is nothing far from impressive and it’s stretching you without even moving.

Light kisses press their way from neck to jaw to mouth as he pulls out to the hilt and then back in, slowly, tantalising slowly so that you both moan into the other's mouths, breathy and completely consumed by the feeling of each other.

“Fuck I’m never gonna get enough of this now.”

“Mmm,” you really hoped he wouldn’t.

“God I love you so much, your pussy is actual heaven.” And you hate to say the way the praise goes straight to your core, but your boyfriend can most certainly tell from the clench you hold his dick in. “Fuckkk, so good.”

It’s slow and it’s deep and he’s hitting your g-spot and clit with every roll of his hips. Throughout the murmurs of affection and sex filled admissions, you grasp at each other's skin, his hands pulling your hair so your mouth meets his and your hands across the muscles in his back that flex under your fingers with each thrust.

It’s when he drags one hand to your throat and grips at it to balance his sped-up movements that you’re finding yourself teetering towards the edge again, spilling words never spoken and sounds never heard but he’s saving every one of them to memory.

“Faster baby please,” and he obliges instantly as he dives into you hard and fast, “babyy oh shit.”

“Y/N you’re clenching so fucking hard right now,” but he’s left you breathless to the point of no reply.

Several punishing slams that also attack your clit have eyes rolling and you biting down into his shoulder, suppressing the scream that surfaced without your consent.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He keeps pounding away, forcing you deeper and deeper into a spiral of pleasure, until his lips are on yours and he ruts a final few times, grunting and moaning into your mouth. “So good, so good,” and he repeats this until he’s still above you and finally the hand wound into your neck lessens it’s pressure so the throb in your body and up to your head dies into a tingle.

It’s the most content and blissful silence, post orgasm, wrapped in the warm and wet body of your boyfriend. That is until he begins mumbling inconceivable words into the shoulder he decided to rest on.

“What baby?”

“I said,” lifting himself to eye level, and he’s a fucking sight for sore eyes. “Worth the fucking wait.”

And with a tired, fucked out smile, light kiss to his lips, you can most certainly agree.

Worth the fucking wait.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #BTS jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts one shot #jungkook one shot #jungkook smut #BTS au #jeon jungguk #jungkook drabble #bts jeongkook #jungkook things

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heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

Brackish and Briny Waters (two)

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

Summary: Settling into your new house Part 1 Masterlist Part 3

Tags: +17 | 1.7k words | just really fucking domestic stuff, one (1) bad attitude, presumptuous behavior, unprotected morning sex, more remodeling.

AN: I kind of know where I'm going with this. The conflict will be subtle at first but it's there I promise.

The first day goes by fast and for Ralph meeting every single person on staff in this prestigious school was like trying cheeses and wines in a vineyard– fun at first but you get a stomach ache because somebody forgot to tell you not to swallow and there are just so many of them each more rich than the last. By the time he crosses the threshold to his new home, he's exhausted and annoyed.

"I told you not to unpack without me."

You look at him from the kitchen and shrug. "I needed stuff, baby. I already wrote a list of things to work on in this 'bare bones' house you put us up in and I was bored."

You don't care for his attitude but offer him the covered plate anyways. "I saved you some dinner."

All at once, Ralphie's anger melted from his face. He shuffled his tired feet across the still empty living room and pulled you into his side. The plate was warm (still warm or recently warmed up, he couldn't tell) and his stomach growled.

"M sorry," he said, "I don't mean to be an asshole."

You smile your forgiveness. "Long day?"

"Yes," he hisses. "I already can't wait for the weekend."

You chuckle. "Oh come on, it can't be that bad. Give it a chance, baby!"

"As you wish."

After eating, Ralph is right to sleep despite his insistence you finish packing together tonight. A part of you thinks it's the climate here– fresh sea salt air and less artificial light to disrupt the body's natural sleep patterns. You took off his shoes and empty his pockets because he was just 'resting his eyes for a moment,' then slid in right next to him. He's fine without a blanket, but you pull the back of the quilt over your rear and curl into his side. Sleep comes easier tonight than last night and you dream of wallpaper and wood smoke cologne.

DAY THREE

The rest of the week gets easier for the both of you. You arrived on Monday and unpack the bigger furniture together by Wednesday with the help of some locals. Ralph is getting to study the lesson plan for Ms. Lewis' math class and establishing a gentle authority with his temporary students. He is still excited for the weekend, intent to help you figure out what to do with the walls of the house.

"Has anybody come to see you at the house yet?," he asks you Thursday night.

You pause dicing onions to think. "Besides the neighbors to the north and those Vayle boys? No."

Ralphie raises his eyebrows and drops them, an involuntary gesture made more for himself than you.

You put a hand on your hip. "Why?"

Ralphie waves you off and continues mixing the meat with the spices. "Nothing. It's just everybody and their fucking moms has been asking me about you."

"What?" This was news to you. "Why?"

"Because they're nosy," he replies, "asking me about my whole life story and I let slip I had a wife and then they just wouldn't shut up about it."

You swat his shoulder. "Well don't sound so depressed about it. Do you not like having a wife?"

"No!" Ralph huffs and turns to look at you as he says, "I just hate that every single one of them bugs me about a million personal things and then I mention you and it's the only thing they can talk about now."

Ralph turns back to stirring the pan and grumbles to himself, "might tell them to fuck off and just hoard you forever…"

It clicks in your head at least a bit. Ralph's a born and bred city kid. In the city nobody cares who you are, what you like, or where you're from. Strangers don't want to be anything more than strangers. Their eternal social motto is 'don't waste my time' and anyone who acts differently is probably scheming something.

You chuckle and rest your chin on his shoulder. "You're forgetting these are a different breed of people. Rich and educated socialites more over but suburban, maybe even rural. We're probably the first new thing to happen to them in decades, and communities like this don't have a 'mind your business and I'll mind mine' attitude."

Ralphie flicks you a look but you know he knows you're right. It doesn't mean he has to like it but at least he understands it's not malicious, at least not inherently. It's out of his element, a little out of yours too, but you'll have to adapt and play by their rules if you want to stay here for a while.

The dining room table can seat six, but your Ralphie takes a seat right next to you at a corner so he can hold your hand while you eat. Homemade tacos ease your apprehensions a bit and you go over the remodeling plans with him until midnight. Getting ready to sleep, you wear your thinnest shift and wrap around him like an octopus, your warm core brushing over his barely clothed manhood in temptation.

Ralphie hums, tucking a stray hair back into your bonnet. "We need to get up early tomorrow."

It's a weak protest. The two of you keep rocking into each other and sighing at the feeling of friction but eventually fall asleep despite the delightful buzz of sexual energy surrounding you. You do wake up when Ralph flips you under him and sucks a few marks into your neck.

You spread your legs to accommodate his breadth, feeling him settle deliciously and glancing at the bedside clock. It's barely 5 o' clock and the sun is rising. You gasp as you feel Ralphie's cock slide into you and he's met with little resistance. You two have sex for the first time since you moved and it's been so long that the affair is short lived.

Ralph already has an apology on his lips but you shush him and come a moment later with your fingers brushing your clit in tandem. He peppers you with a dozen more kisses as silent promises to make it up to you.

You shower together, barely bumping elbows as this bathroom is way bigger than your New York City apartment ever was. You chat idly about the weekend and the town and when you're ready to leave, you grab the manila folder where you store the plans for the remodel. You've even got samples from the wallpaper, only taking the ones you like and want to replace.

"I know we probably won't find exact replicas but I want to at least find something similar."

Ralph squeezes your thigh. "Ok, ok. We'll try."

While this town doesn't have a McDonald's (the town over does and it's fancy for some reason), it does have a Home Depot (also pretty fancy). You know you'll need wood and screws and glass panes to finish that solar room but that's not the goal for today.

Ralph skips right over the green paint swatch section to the creams. He's rambling about paint brand pros and cons, he did his research on the way in since you were driving and he brought the book from the school library. You follow and half listen.

"What?"

Ralph finally catches on to your soft smile. You glance around to make sure no one is in earshot because god forbid these gossipers over hear your conversation right now.

"I guess I got you pretty excited last night, huh," you say with a sense of pride. Ralph feels the opposite about his performance this morning.

"I just… I think it's just been a while." He occupies his hands by grabbing every single free swatch sample on the shelf and says, "I promise I will make it up to you."

You roll your eyes in a not unkind way. "It's fine, babe, really. I uh… it feels kind of good to know I still have that kind of effect on you…"

Ralphie sports a smile of his own and puts you under his arm. "Of course you do, sugar."

He leans down to plant a kiss on your lips when you're interrupted by a bright voice. It's so startling that your husband bounces away from you. He stares wide eyed at the woman who interrupted you and he gets that dark look in his eye that only you can see.

"Jesus, Julie," he tries his best not to growl her name. "This is Julie, she's a teacher at the school. Julie this… is… my wife."

Julie makes a noise like a whistle. "Oh my god you are so much more beautiful than I imagined! Ralph doesn't have a picture of you in his office!"

"It's on my desk," he huffs, "it's the one turned towards me."

"And why would you do that?"

"...so I can look at it while I work…?"

Julie's… a little too hands on for just meeting you. You're too reserved to say something about it so you sling a loose arm around her back and hope Ralph doesn't say something for you.

"Hi Julie, it's nice to finally meet you," you tell her. "Ralph's been slowly but surely introducing me to the concept of his coworkers."

"I can't believe we haven't met before now! Ralph keeping you all to himself, me and the other teachers are just so curious about you," she coos. It feels almost put on, like overindulging in sweet to play up her first impression. You let it slide though, maybe it's just your city lens.

"Well, uh, once we've got the house fixed up a bit, we can plan a housewarming party," you suggest. "But not a day before and you may quote me on that, miss!"

Julie laughed and gave you her phone number 'in case you need anything at all.' Ralph breathed easy once she finally left and you tug his ear gently. "She's veeerry friendly."

Ralphie shoots you a glare like you'd made a joke he didn't find funny and you go back to debating the paint to use for your walls eagerly.

@escape-your-grape @hoodoo12 @softbeej @go-commander-kim @beetlesstuff @imma-fucking-nerd @werwulfy

#three bees writing #smut #🐝🐝🐝✒#Ralph Lamont #ralph lamont x reader #alex brightman #black reader insert

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

Meet the Hughes’

Ok, this was requested over two weeks ago and I have another request that is the same premies with a different boy so it might take me a while to do this.

But hey, as y’all probably know, I’m on track to be a high school chem teacher and even though Pride Month just ended it would be really cool for you to look into charties like GLSEN, which addresses issues surrounding LGBTQ+ students in the K-12 education system.

I hope you like this! Here is the original request! ________________________

“Ok, but what if they don’t like me?” you say, running around the apartment looking for your bag. You know you put it somewhere in the living room so that you could grab it and just leave when Quinn came to pick you up.

“They like Jack and you’re better than him.” He leans back further into the couch cushions, figuring the two of you would be here for a while. He had to admit, watching you run around in that dress of yours was not something he was about to complain about.

“But they have to like him, that’s your brother.” You start to bend down to see if one of your roommates slipped it under the coffee table; they had a habit of taking anything in the room and shoving it down there with the rest of the candles, miscellaneous remotes that you had no idea how to use but wouldn’t get rid of, and other random shit.

“Babe, relax.”

You shoot up and look at him. “Has there ever been a woman in your life who has responded well when you told them to ‘relax?’ And can you please get up and help me find my bag, I don’t want to be late! That’s an awful first impression!”

He gets up, pulling you off the floor and grabbing you into a hug. Out of stubbornness and sheer anxiety you leave your arms by your side. “Point taken.” He pushes his upper body away from you so he can see the pout you have on your face. “But, trust me. I wouldn’t even think of letting you meet them if I didn’t think they would love you more than they love any of the three of us.” You finally pull him back in for a hug. You’ve never been in a serious enough relationship where you had introduced him to your parents or he had introduced you to his. Knowing that they could literally tell him they don’t like you was stressing you out more than anything.

“I just want them to like me.”

“They will love you. But I think you put your bag in the kitchen.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that!” you screech, pulling away from him to go find it.

“Because you look so damn good that I just wanted an excuse to look at you.”

You look up at him, debating if you should be mad or flattered. “You’re lucky I like you or I would have to kill you,” you deadpan, knowing he would burst out laughing like he does. He lets you go to find that your bag was sitting on the kitchen table, not where you remember leaving it, but who cares as long as you found it? “Ok, should we go?” you ask, taking his hand as he leads you out the door.

The entire ride to the restaurant where you were meeting Quinn’s family, he did everything he could to try to calm you down. First, he put on your favorite radio station. When that didn’t work, he let you take control of the aux, which he almost never lets you do because he doesn’t like the nostalgic 2010s teenage girl pop that occupies your playlist. When that didn’t work, he had you find a song you both love, Dream On by Aerosmith, for you to blast and sing poorly and loud until you get to the restaurant. You couldn’t help but laugh as Quinn tried and failed to hit Steven Tyler’s high notes at the end of the song, the veins in his neck popping out as he tried to hit the note but ended up sounding like a screeching cat.

“Feeling better?” he asks, smiling as he pulls into the first parking spot he can find.

“Still nervous, but at least I’m not jittery.”

“I promise, you’ll be fine. Just be yourself,” he reassures you, taking your hand and leading you in. His parents and youngest brother were already at their table, all in town to see Quinn play, Jack playing and traveling throughout the weekend unable to make it. “Hi,” he says, kissing his mom on the cheek, hugging his dad and Luke, “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

You smile as his parents get up to greet you, “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you!” you say, trying not to let the nervousness get the best of you as his mom wraps you into a hug. You weren’t ready for it, but it was weirdly calming for you as she gushed about how happy she was that she could finally meet you while his dad stood behind her to just shake your hand.

Everyone sits down, you, Quinn, and Luke on one side with Jim, and Ellen facing you. Your leg starts shaking out of nervousness, Quinn’s hand finding your thigh under the table to try to get it to stop. His parents start talking to Quinn about his season so far, all the nerves melting away as his hand stays where it is. They finally turn the conversation to you as the food arrives, asking you about what you do, your family, all the basic stuff you would ask someone to get to know them.

“Do you have any siblings?” his father asks you between bites of food.

“I have an older brother, but I also grew up surrounded by a lot of cousins on my dad’s side.”

“Sometimes I wish I had a girl,” Ellen says, her eyes fixed on her pasta.

“Wow, thanks, mom,” Luke says, you and Quinn bursting out laughing.

“What she really means is that she wishes you were a girl. You were her last chance,” Quinn says, playfully shoving his brother in the arm.

“You’re only saying that because you’re such a mama’s boy.”

“I’d rather be a mama’s boy than have her wish I was a girl.”

“What’s wrong with being a girl?” you ask. Quinn turns back to you, looking between you and his mom. His eyes are wide open, his face turning bright red. He keeps opening and closing his mouth like a fish trying to figure out what to say while his dad and brother can’t stop laughing at the hole he just dug himself into.

“Go ahead, Q. I wanna hear this too,” Ellen eggs him on.

“Uh, well. I believe there are pros and cons to, uh, either gender,” Quinn stammers. He keeps babbling for a few minutes, trying to find a good enough reason for you not to be mad at him.

“I would just stop while you’re behind. It doesn’t look like you’re going to get ahead,” you say, patting his leg.

His dad can’t stop laughing, “She’s a good one, Quinn.” Quinn looks at you and smiles, taking your hand on the table and kissing you on the cheek as his mother gushes over the two of you, causing both of you to blush.

“Please tell me you have some sort of embarrassing story about him,” Luke begs, practically bouncing in his seat.

“I don’t think he could be any more embarrassed than Jack posting the picture from Easter where Quinn is wearing his Crocs,” his dad says.

“Oh, my god. Those Crocs. When he invites me over I won’t go into his place unless those Crocs are away. I have such bad memories with crocs that I can’t stand them now. But -”

“Wait what happened to you?” Luke interrupts you.

“No, we’re embarrassing Quinn right now, not me.”

Luke’s eyes go wide, his mouth open, “Do you know the story?” he asks Quinn.

“No, this is supposed to embarrass Quinn, not me,” you say again, holding back laughing.

“Dad, how much trouble would I be in if I told this story?” Quinn asks.

“If you lived together, you would be sleeping on the couch tonight,” he shrugs.

“Then this is the only time I’ll be saying that I’m happy we don’t live together,” Quinn says, turning towards his brother, “When she was little, she was running through a parking lot one night and tripped and tore her knee open.”

“Ok no, it’s worse than that. I was with my mom for some meeting she had to go to, and I tripped over a curb that was painted black and unlit. I had to have surgery for my knee!”

“Yes, but. You tripped because you were wearing Crocs.”

“Which is why I hate them. If I had on a better shoe, that never would have happened. But,” you say, Quinn knowing exactly where you’re going, “I still get to embarrass you.”

“Please, no,” he begs, his hand back on your thigh.

“The pasta incident?”

“I already know that I raised you better than whatever it is she’s about to say,” Ellen says, her eyes closed as she shakes her head in premature disappointment.

“So he was over my place for dinner one night when he didn’t have a game. My roommates and I had some friends over so we were all making some food, I was making a pasta dish. I’m in my room, finishing getting ready and I asked him if he could start the water boiling so the food would be ready when everyone got there.

“I’m just finishing up getting dressed and I hear him calling my name, so I go and check on him right?” you tell them, Quinns face getting red with embarrassment, “He goes, ‘should I smell gas when I turn the stove on?’ And I just look at him and I go, ‘It’s a gas stove. If you smell a little gas when you turn it on, that’s fine.’” Luke has already lost it, Quinn still has his hand on your thigh, knowing that he had this coming, while his parents just look at him and try not to laugh.

“But, it gets better. I tell him once the water starts to boil to put the Angel Hair pasta into the pot and then cover it and I can take care of the rest. I finish getting ready and I’m assuming that if he hasn’t called me then that means that everything is going fine, which I should not have. I finally get back into the kitchen and he’s standing there with a try piece of pasta that is on fire,” you finish as his parents finally give in and start laughing. Even though he hates that story, he can’t help but smile at you, you reciprocating. “And what did you say to me when I asked why you did that?”

“I wanted to see if it would catch on fire,” he admits in a small voice, his family erupting in laughter.

“It was something thin and frail in an open flame, babe. What else did you think would happen?” you say, placing your hand on top of his. He leans over and kisses your cheek again. He already knows his parents love you. Anyone who can make them laugh is someone they love, even if it does involve embarrassing their son.

You look at Quinn’s parents who are beaming at the two of you. “She’s probably the only girlfriend of yours that I’ve liked, Q,” Luke says into his food, his parents nodding along in agreement.

“I’ve liked the other ones, but I like her the best,” Quinn says, taking your hand in his and kissing it . You can’t help but blush as all the worry that you had about meeting his family has melted away.

The rest of the dinner went great. It felt like they liked you; any time you tried to make them laugh, they did, they didn’t seem to mind Quinn showing affection towards you, they shared stories about Quinn and Luke growing up that you loved. You just hope they actually liked you. What if they were faking everything? Judging by what you know about Quinn, you didn’t think they actually would, but there’s also a chance they’re really good actors.

At the end of the dinner, you’re back to being a little nervous, but at least you had fun, right? Once you’re in the car, Quinn starts gushing, “Oh, my god, they loved you!”

“You sound a little shocked considering you’re the one you who was saying they would from the start.”

“Well, yeah, but I think they like you more than they like me?” he says as his phone starts buzzing with a text from Luke, “Wanna read that for me?”

‘She’s great, Q. We all love her.’ You can’t help but blush as you read it out loud to him, the smile on his face as big as it can be.

“I told you! They love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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musical-shit-show · 3 years

Text

Two Sides: Chapter 5

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4)

Characters: Musical!Beetlejuice, Female!OC, Lydia Deetz, Barbara Maitland, Adam Maitland

Warnings: anxiety, awkward attempts at flirting, panic attacks, cursing, a little bit of angst if you squint

Word Count: 1,930

Author’s Note: Been on a writing kick so I figured I’d post Chapter 5! Not much to say about this chapter, just some good old fashioned character development a.k.a. Beej being a pissbaby and Cassandra being an anxiety factory. Please check out my Masterlist here and my About Me page. Enjoy!

Chapter 5

Both Cassandra and Beetlejuice called after the dark-haired girl, but she had already shut the door with a forceful yank. Causing mischief was something Lydia had perfected from spending a lot of time with Beetlejuice, and while she didn’t want to admit it, she was sort of glad her roommate had brought him back. Life without her undead companion was almost getting too normal for her liking.

She knew that this day was already turning out to be a lot to handle for Cassandra, but Lydia tried not to beat herself up about how everyone had been introduced. Nothing ever went according to plan in the Deetz/Maitland household, so it was just as well that the day had already erupted into total chaos. Still, Lydia hoped that her roommate would roll with the punches and make it through the weekend relativity unscathed.

After Lydia shut the door, Beetlejuice’s demeanor changed almost instantly. He leaned casually on the end of Cassandra’s wooden bed frame, his eyes scanning her, an impish glint in his eye. His green hair was now mixed with pale yellow and light pink colorations.

“So....does your hair always do that…?” Cassandra asked awkwardly, attempting to make some semblance of a conversation. The air in the room was still unbelievably tense, even after Lydia had properly introduced the two of them. A smug look flashed across the demon’s face.

“My hair’s sorta like a mood ring,” he said matter-of-factly, picking at the dead skin around his fingernails, “This shade of yellow means that I’m curious about ya. Pretty cool, huh?” He secretly wanted to impress her, and he thought the nonchalant act would do just the trick.

“And what does pink mean?” Cassandra asked, enthralled by the swirl of hues that now adorned his head.

“That I think you’re hot, babes,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He gave her another once over as Cassandra held back an uncomfortable laugh, taken aback at how forward he was.

“Oh, I’m sure you say that to all the girls you manhandle after they unwittingly unleash you into the mortal realm,” she said casually, doing her best to hide her discomfort with him. She did not take getting hit on well by living men, let alone men that had been dead for probably decades. Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows, wrongly suspecting that she was flirting back.

“What, are ya talking about that kiss?” he said innocently, his stocky frame inching closer to her, “Look, new girl, that was just a gesture of appreciation. You should be flattered.” Cassandra rolled her eyes, frustrated with the demon’s lack of self-awareness.

“Okay, first off, my name is Cassandra,” she said childishly, “Second, I’m not flattered by you fucking with me. The last hour of my life has been insane, and I really don’t need your help making it any crazier.” Beetlejuice felt the venom in her tone, but soldiered on until she cracked. Breathers like her always did, and he knew she was just putting on a front to seem tougher than she really was.

“Listen, babes, you gotta relax a little. Take a walk on the undead side,” he purred, “Why don’t I show ya—?” He stopped her pacing and grabbed her waist. Cassandra let out a small yelp of anger, pushing him away and plopping onto the bed. The comforter was now decidedly dirtier since the demon had laid on it, but she didn’t care. Hot tears of infuriation filled her eyes.

“Look, the last thing I want to do is get down and dirty with some dead guy that just appeared in my room and has been messing with me from the second I got here,” she said, in a quiet but sharp tone, “So please, for the love of all that is good and decent, could you, just, leave?” Instantly the pink and yellow swirls in his hair were mixed with a deep red and blue. Beetlejuice stared angrily at the floor, not used to being shot down so pointedly. This kind of rejection brought up emotions he wasn’t quite keen on revisiting, but he was too prideful to admit he had gone too far.

“Fine,” he muttered, not bothering to make eye contact with the already irked woman, “You’re not my type anyways, sweetheart. Guess I didn’t know Lydia had such a stuck up, goody-two-shoes breather for a roommate. See ya around, new girl.” With that he vanished from the room, a tiny *pop* emanating from the spot where he stood.

Cassandra let out another angry cry, overwhelmed with the day’s events. She understood where Lydia coming from, leaving the two of them together to get better acquainted. After all she was right: Cassandra was the one that stupidly summoned him. But it clearly didn’t occur to her that Beetlejuice would go back to his old self faster than lightning, making Cassandra incredibly uneasy in the process. A few moments later, a soft knock on the door broke her out of her emotional spiraling.

“Cassandra? It’s Barbara,” the blonde woman said softly, a tiny crack between the door and its frame forming, “Everything okay?” Cassandra quickly wiped away a small tear and cleared her throat.

“Uh, yeah, yeah everything is fine,” she said unconvincingly. Barbara took that as an invitation to open up the door fully and enter the guest room, Adam following quietly behind her. “I just, uh, met another dead person in this house. The guy who looks homeless and smells like a sewer.”

“Beetlejuice,” the couple deadpanned in tandem. Adam groaned in slight frustration, rubbing the back of his neck at the thought of the raucous demon back in his former home.

“Of course, of course he would be back here,” he said as Barbara rubbed his shoulders, attempting to relax him, “After we had just cleaned up from his last mess...did Lydia summon him?” Adam’s expression softened when he saw the guilt on Cassandra’s face. She had just met these people and had now accidentally freed an entity they clearly didn’t have much fondness for.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Cassandra let a few frustrated tears fall from her eyes, not able to even look up at the couple. Barbara sat down next to her on the bed, placing her hand on top of Cassandra’s. The living woman felt no sensation of being touched, but appreciated the gesture of comfort.

“It’s okay, honey,” Barbara said genuinely, her kind face illuminating the gloomy air in the room, “We aren’t upset with you, right Adam?” The woman nudged her husband quite forcefully, catching him slightly off-guard.

“No, no of course not,” Adam added, chuckling slightly, “It’s just, Beetlejuice can sometimes be...well, a handful.”

“Really?” Cassandra sniffed, drying her tears, “I hadn’t noticed.” The three of them cracked small smiles, slightly easing the disquieting air that hung in the room, “Is he always such a dick?” Barbara and Adam looked at each other, silently confirming the living woman’s question. Cassandra sighed. Not two hours into being in this house, and she had met three dead people and had already pissed off the most irritating of them all.

The Maitlands were at least acting civil towards her, even treating her with kindness. But there was something about Beetlejuice that made Cassandra’s temperature rise. The condescending smirk, the overzealous grabbiness, the complete unawareness of social cues...it all added up to a huge pain in the ass that she was going to have to deal with for the entire weekend.

‘You have to be nice,’ Cassandra thought, ‘For Lydia. He’s best friends with Lydia, and you need to be nice. Just for the weekend. And then you’ll never have to see that creep again.’ “Try and stick it out, just for a few days,” Barbara said sweetly, “He really isn’t that bad when you get to know him.” Adam smiled unconvincingly, doing nothing to quell Cassandra’s discomfort.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” she said, smiling as genuinely as she could muster, “I still have a little more settling in to do, but I’ll see you guys downstairs soon, okay?” The two ghosts nodded and disappeared in a flash, leaving the living woman alone once again. Cassandra closed her eyes yet again, finding it easier to process the events that had transpired since she had entered the house. She just had to accept that this was what Lydia’s world was like, even though she had no idea it existed.

She couldn’t blame Lydia for not telling her all these years, but she was still shocked to know that her best friend and roommate had successfully kept this from her for so long. A wave of emotions crashed down on her: hurt, anger, confusion, curiosity, excitement even. How was she supposed to make it through the rest of this trip without feeling like a mental patient? She felt a tightness in her chest, a telltale sign her anxiety had taken hold of her psyche.

Beetlejuice materialized in the room only seconds after the Maitlands vanished, watching her intently. Now he was intentionally making his presence unknown so he could further survey the damage without causing another scene. His hair was now a swirl of purple and red, creating a sea of maroon locks that adorned his head. He watched as Cassandra steadied her breathing and closed her eyes, attempting to gain her composure. She let a few stress-induced tears escape from her eyes but quickly brushed them away, as she shook her head and moved to unzip her duffel bag. Beetlejuice felt a twinge of guilt, a blue streak reappearing in his hair. He hadn’t met anyone new since he infiltrated the Maitlands’ home all those years ago, and the prospect of fresh meat to torment was too difficult to pass up. He feared he had gone too far, but those thoughts were replaced by annoyance and disdain.

‘Who does this breather think she is?’ he thought angrily, stewing in the corner of the room, still eyeing Cassandra as she methodically placed her clothes in an empty dresser, ‘Since when did Lydia get a new best friend? And how could that best friend possibly be a bigger mess than I am?!’

In all of his years as a bio-exorcist, Beetlejuice had never been turned down by a human so abruptly. Well, other than Lydia of course, but that was a different situation entirely. When it came to consenting adult breathers, Beetlejuice had them on their backs in no time. At their core, he knew that they loved the idea of breaking the rules, and getting pleasured by a demon was about the most sinful thing imaginable.

But this one? This trembling, crying, self-conscious mess that stood before him? She had made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with him, try as he might to be as friendly as he possibly could with her, though his definition of friendly was certainly more abrasive and forward than the average person’s, living or dead.

And the thought that this was the person Lydia was now spending all of her time with and not goofing off with him? Well, that only damaged Beetlejuice’s bruised ego even more. What made her so goddamn special?

Beetlejuice could feel himself growing more and more contemptuous towards Cassandra, but decided to at least attempt to be civil towards her, for Lydia’s sake. He was her best friend after all, and he wasn’t going to let this annoying breather change that over the course of one weekend.

Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun when Lyds wasn’t around...

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Please like/comment/reblog and feel free to drop an ask for any requests/feedback!

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musedblues · 4 years

Text

Born To Love You [Part: 6]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there’s no telling if he even has a clue.

a/n: Well, this one is a dozy. There's plenty of angst, a dash of sickeningly sweet fluff and vague mentions of sex, but blink and you'll miss it. (Just be mindful!) After this... is just the epilogue! I cross my heart to get that bit out soon. I'm sorry for leaving you lot on a cliffhanger for so long! But I'm so so grateful for all your sweet feedback and kind lovely words. I'll really be looking forward to everyone's thoughts on this second to last chapter! 💖

w/c: 9k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You couldn't wait to get home. You couldn't wait to toss your suitcase full of laundry in the wash room and face plant into your familiar bed. But when you got there, and your bags were stored away and your favorite sheets beckoned you to bed, you still felt like shit.

What's worse, was the quiet. James and Andy had gone off to tend to renovations in their new home, during the weekend you settled back into the flat you'd shared with the two for years and years. So you sat alone, adjusting to the new normal. Adjusting to the hollow void where your heart should be and the echoes of it's once fierce beat surging through your ears loud enough to keep you awake.

And when Gwilym rang to hold one-sided conversations with his daughter and ask how you were, you didn't even pretend to smile. He hated to see it. But a small part of Gwilym's soul settled slightly, to see you'd dropped the act of fake grins and scripted answers. And because he sort of figured you'd hang up on him if he brought it up, and you sat on the edge of your seat every time he rang, you never spoke about what happened. Not until James and Andy came home.

///

"My dear, it's been ages!" Andy beamed, tossing his bag to the sofa and taking giant strides to wrap his arms around you. His jubilant smile was a lovely sight to see, it was hardly rimmed with the question you knew must have been on the tip of his tongue. Because Andy in all his brilliant blonde wonder had remained almost entirely out of the loop. James only knew some of the bits of the story you'd stirred up over the past month. But you figured he must have told his better half what he did know. Because it was Andy who asked, after all, in the usual way any of your friends might have for a few years now.

"How was the big trip to see your lover, then?" Andy teased, just like everyone who knew you and Gwilym well enough always had, before. Only this time you had no witty come back. You had no sharp-edged jab to defend yourself. You only let your demeanor crack, at last, letting hot, humiliating tears slip down your cheeks.

His asking was the final straw, because even though you were home, nothing felt the same anymore.

"Oh way to go, Andrew." James scoffed on his hurry in the door, reaching out to grab your shoulders, pulling you in for some kind of protective hug. You heard Andy stutter out a disoriented apology.

"It's okay." You sniffled, halfway peeling yourself from James' embrace. It was your brilliant, fiery, quick witted best pal who made you pour everybody a drink and gather around the kitchen table to spew your guts; after they spent a good hour trading Olive back and forth for several dozen welcome home hugs.

Olive was fast asleep, and it was quite again, like it had been since your return. Only now instead of letting those same old thoughts echo through your head, you spewed them all, swallowing your pride with shots of whiskey. James and Andy listened all the while, taking quick drinks when you did, wincing over your pathetic, deadly details.

"Well... It's really just like that scene in My Best Friends Wedding.'" Andy mewled, trying to equate the pickle you found yourself in, to something that was fixed on a movie screen in the matter of one easy-going scene. You shook your head as James did too,

"This is clearly way more like While You Were Sleeping, except Gwil's been awake the whole time." James pointed out, getting up to reach for the bottle of alcohol on your counter.

"This is Anna Karenina." You whined gravely, letting your head drop to the table with a sorry thud. Andy gasped as James gently tugged your hair to get your attention as he said,

"Fuck that. You're getting that happy ending, love. Just give it time."

Your flatmates promised to see you through your latest greatest disaster; swearing that even after they moved away you'd still be welcome to crash in their guest room, swearing everything would be okay.

///

Halloween ended when Olive scraped her knees. She stumbled over an uprooted tree branch, scuffing up the socks you found to perfectly match her chicken costume.

You left James and Andy in their nondescript punk rock get ups and headed home with your unsettled babe for the night. You woke up early the next morning, around the same time your flat mates were creeping in from whatever party they got sucked into the whirlpool of. They told you goodnight as you totted Olive into the living room for the day. It was filling up with halfway packed moving boxes that served as reminders for you to get a move on. So while an old Julie Andrews film played, you scrolled through some listing as Olive clamored to the sofa at your side.

And right when you'd found the perfect neighborhood; A call you were anxious to answer interrupted your interest in a reasonably priced townhouse close to a quaint school district.

"You promised you'd facetime last night!" Lucy's delicate whine was music to your ears.

"I sent you a picture of Olive in her chicken costume! But we had to cut festivities short." You explained Olives tumble and apologized for missing out the chance to facetime your friend all dressed up, like you once promised through text.

"Not to mention you missed getting a glimpse of our killer halloween party, over here. I'd never seen Gwil so drunk." Lucy snorted. You chuckled too. "I wish you would have been there."

"I would have loved to see you, Luc, but I'm sure I wasn't missed by anyone else."

"I beg to differ. I wasn't the only one who was sad when you didn't call, last night. In fact, Joe said-"

"Lucy." You cautioned. Olive rested her head in your lap, and you ran your fingers through her curls in an automatic attempt to keep that familiar sickness from rising in your throat. Lucy stalled for a moment but spoke up again.

"Joe talked about you all night, actually." She seemed to realize. "To me, anyway. We sat while the others played some dumb game... and he asked about you. He had been drinking, though, and kept saying something about the aquarium?"

"I'm going to hang up if you keep-"

"Y/n..." Lucy bit for your undivided attention.

"Joe... well... you should talk to him. It would do you both some good."

"I don't think that's a good idea in the slightest. I'm not over-"

"Just... talk to him. For me?" Lucy begged, sweetly. You said okay, but not because you planned on phoning the guy, but because you were desperate for your friend to talk about anything besides Joe.

///

Gwilym came home for the holidays. You fetched him from the train station, settling into his familiar company right away. And for a week, you spent most of your time in his spacious home, baking sweets and taking naps on his big comfy sofa. You mixed drinks for the members of his massive family who stopped over, bearing gifts, and telling stories. All while Gwilym kept Olive on his hip, when she wasn't trailing behind his stride.

You spent Christmas morning the same way you had for years in a row. Only now was the last time you'd be joining James and Andy around the table for your traditional pancake breakfast. It was the last time you'd huddle around the moving box cramped living room, trading decorated parcels and reading new storybooks to Olive. You laughed the whole day, in place of crying, because you knew you would if you brought up the elephant in the room.

You couldn't tell them how much you'd miss them. How much you already did.

Your pending ex flatmates took a trip the week leading up to new years eve- filling both their cars with boxes and vowing to finish fixing up repairs to their almost home sweet home. Gwilym noted, over and over again, that you were welcome to stay with him till you found another place to settle.

You slept on the idea, in Gwilym's guest room over on New Year's Eve. The two of you were fast in bed long before the new year kicked off. You started the fresh new morning when Gwilym gently jarred you awake with a tender reminder of the promise you'd both made to Lucy.

///

James and Andy were more than happy to keep Olive for the weekend, as it was the last chance they'd get to spoil the kid for a while. They waved you off at the train station as Gwilym held out his hand for you while you climbed the narrow steps.

"I hope you know how much I really don't want to do this." You huffed, plopping into a seat facing Gwil. He grinned, peering to you past his glasses, past rays of the dull rising sun.

"I'm sorry." Gwilym nodded. You narrowed your eyes in wonder, silently prompting Gwilym to explain why he sighed so gravely.

"I'm sorry for the way I ruined things, for you. I know how much you came to care for everyone, and how you now feel like everything is destroyed. But I think you'll find your reputation isn't completely tarnished." Gwilym smiled, glancing at his feet as you bit your lip, considering his words.

"I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse." You let out a breathy laugh, watching the train slowly chug away from the platform. Wouldn't it be better to be excommunicated instead of tiptoeing on eggshells around people who used to consider you their unconditional friend?

"But thanks, Gwil." You quickly added, hoping he could tell you were moved by his attempt to ease your worry. You really couldn't imagine life without your unconventional friendship.

///

You tried to ignore how much more like home Gwilym's airbnb felt than your own beloved loft. You unearthed a change of clothes and left your bags in the back of his rented car. You'd be staying with Lucy this weekend, after her sister's gallery opening. You doted on your flatmate back home. And you put yourself through small hell for Gwilym. But there seemed to be a growing world of things you'd only ever dream of doing for the sake of Lucy's happiness.

You dressed for the night out, stuffing your phone and some money in the clutch Lucy gave you on the first night you met the girl. The small bag that's stitching was decorated fossilized gemstones was designed by Lucy's sister, whose gallery full of creations you were off to admire.

Gwilym filled your time with anxious chatter about what Lucy had told him to expect tonight. You couldn't tell if he was excited, or rambling to ease your clearly nervous state.

///

Lucy and Rami were waiting in the vestibule, donned respectively in black silk and pink chiffon. You didn't have time to second guess yourself before your well-dressed friends stormed your way- wrapping their arms around your shoulders and gently squealing in your ear.

"No way, I'm not even close to done yet." Rami squeezed his arms tight around you when you started to peel yourself from him. You let out a warm laugh, hugging him back all the same.

"If you must disappear for so long ever again, you've really got to do a better job of keeping in touch, you know?" Rami rang over your shoulder as you leaned into his surprisingly welcoming embrace.

Lucy yanked you from Rami's clutch and pulled you in her stride, rambing right off about how her sister had been anxious to meet you. The girls gallery was full of boldly decorated gowns, painted shoes, and upcycled handbags- true works of wearable art. Before you had time to admire any of it, Lucy pulled you straight to the back of the room, where a girl who looked very much like your friend was entertaining a group of guests sipping champagne.

Lucy introduced you to her sister, an equally elegant and bubbly girl who smiled at you with the same warmth your good friend had always shown. You proudly clutched the small purse Lucy had gifted you, flashing it out for all to see. You boasted about how you adored the thing, and how much you admired the girls creations you'd caught glimpses of on you breeze through, so far. Lucy stayed glued to your side, as if she'd never left it, bragging about her sister to the group who still listened on.

"Go one then, everyone. I'll fill more drinks while you enjoy all my hard work." The girl laughed, waving about the gallery full of eye catching instalments. Lucy took you around every corner, telling stories about the outfits you gazed upon. Some stragglers would listen on, while others shouldered past to find more drinks. One of the shoulders that brushed yours belonged to a familiar blonde. Ben turned to give a nod in your direction before scuttling off to the sound of his name being called.

You couldn't make out the look in his eye before his face turned away, and you couldn't be sure if he'd caught the look in yours. You couldn't tell if Lucy pulled you closer to distract you from it all, or if she really was as excited as she seemed to point out the display of umbrellas before you.

When Gwilym reappeared with a flute of champagne for you in clutch, you took it, and stayed near Lucy as she floated from one place to the next. Lingering too long near the father of your child felt more like a dare than ever, in such mixed company.

It was then, Joe showed up; before Lucy had floated too far. When you saw him, you pretended your breath didn't catch in a theatrical gasp. Rami pretended not to notice. And Ben swooped toward Joe, guiding him in the opposite direction with an over blown greeting, as you shooed Lucy to keep on walking.

///

Lucy set you up in her lavish guest room, made up of pastel walls, sheer curtains and cozy sheets. You dumped your bags in the corner and watched the girl primp her hair in the guest room en suite before the others arrived. Lucy was throwing some kind of after party in her sisters honor, where more trusted and true friends were meant to show up ready to mingle the night away.

"Since Sami is in town, too, Rami and I thought it was the perfect time for everyone we adore to dance the night away, together." Lucy mumbled past the bobby pins between her teeth.

Rami's brother seemed lovely, based on the short introductions you shared back at the gallery. Sami was one of the first guests to burst into Lucy's flat, balancing a few store bought desserts and asking for your help setting them across counter tops. Lucy was always looking for an excuse to gather everyone together huh? You smiled over the realization that everyone seemed to be just as eager for whatever overblown gathering the girl planned next.

Soon, the home was full of faces you'd come to recognize throughout the night. You chatted with Lucy's sister, while music kept changing genres with every new soul who was awarded control of the bluetooth.

But as drinks and hugs were passed around, you'd yet to see any of the people you'd come to know during the pantomime of a time you'd spent in London, last. Not until you floated toward the kitchen.

Ben was there, head tossed back as a swallow of whiskey disappeared down his throat. You crept in, assessing the drinks that linked the counter- more eager to extend your greetings to the blonde than you had been for whatever you'd come in here for in the first place.

"Hi Ben. You look well." You spoke, admiring his tousled hair and the fitted clothes he wore. The blonde twisted and looked right at you for the first time all night.

"Oh, thanks. I'm just so glad you're back round." He slurred in cold disdain. His tone was flat and his eyes were empty. As you registered his disposition, you recalled the look in Ben's eye every time he caught you playing house with Gwil. If anyone was fooled by your act it was Ben. He'd admired your picturesque family. You'd burned his rose-colored image to the ground.

"No, yeah I really wish you could have been round for Halloween. You could have gone as Bebe Buell. Gwil could have been Steven Tyler and Joe would have been Todd Rundgren. Hell, you wouldn't have even had to have dressed up for that role." Ben ended his tipsy address by slamming his empty glass on the counter, causing a crack to race up to the rim. You stood there, heart shattering in place, too...

"I swear to God if you break Joe's heart I will-" Ben pointed, darkly.

"Ben, what the fuck?" Lucy cursed, spinning into the room like a hurricane. She ripped the broken glass from Ben's fist and gave him a disappointed glare.

"Apologize to her right now!" Lucy boomed. You stood stone still, watching in shock. You'd been prepared to deal with every blow Ben delt you, because that's what you deserved. You did nothing to merit Lucy's displays of friendship.

"Fuck that." Ben spat, looking right to you. "You're a fucking liar."

Rami appeared as if he was just breezing by, but grabbed Ben along the way, clasping his shoulder and dragging him out of the room. Lucy scurried over to you, while you started to apologize and plan your escape route.

"I knew I shouldn't have come, I'm sorry-"

"Yes, you told a lie. But you've apologized, and explained, and given it time. So has Gwil. It's over now. Dealt with. Ben had no excuse for losing his cool like that." The brilliant blonde petted your arm as you held fast to the anchor of regret that had found a residence in your belly.

"I hurt his feelings Luc. That's excuse enough."

"Well, I don't think so. He should apologize. He doesn't need to like what you did but you're not going anywhere. So, he'd better get used to it."

Lucy spoke decidedly, reaching for a martini glass. You smiled, and shrugged, and mouthed thank you as a few folks you didn't know pranced into the kitchen.

When you rounded the corner into the busy living room, you were halted on your mission to find a bit of quiet.

"Here, you're gonna want some of this before Gwil eats it all."

Joe was stood in front of you with a small purple plate of cake. You glanced from the buttercream and back up to the man with fossils for eyes. He was dressed in clothes you remembered him wearing before, a bit of stubble covered his jaw.

Your hand lifted to take the plate from his grasp as your eyes locked on his, too many words to choose from sticking in your throat. He started to turn back to wherever he came from, but then nodded his head for you to follow along.

"Are you kidding me? You're a shit friend." Gwilym cried from the sofa, as you approached. "After I asked you so nicely to fetch me another slice." Gwil's gaze turned from the dessert in your clutch, shaking his head in Joe’s direction.

"That was the last piece and you already had three." Joe pointed to the plate in your hand as he plopped next to Gwilym on the sofa. You eased across from the two, moving faster than you could think otherwise.

"He's always stealing Olives snacks, too." You laughed a little, hoping like mad that you didn't seem as nervous as you were. "I'll take this as pay back on her behalf." You grinned to Gwil, raising a bite of cake to your lips.

As Gwil started to defend himself, Sami breezed by, settling into the nook you'd found yourself among, it didn't take him long to learn you and Gwil were trading banter about the same little girl.

"Oh, you two are together?" Sami asked, trying to connect the dots, like so many others had before. And in a flash, after shooting you a look, Gwilym answered. He assured you weren't a pair. That you only stuck so close because of the kid you shared. As he rambled about Olive, you wondered why it couldn't have been that easy, every other time.

You picked sorrily at your cake, accepting the new normal. Accepting the same white noise that blasted through your ears while your throat closed around the apologies you felt you'd never say enough of. And while Gwil pulled up a few photos of your darling daughter to show Sami, you glanced up, noticing Joe turning his easy going expression toward you.

"Thanks," You decided no sooner than you started speaking. "Ya know... for not hating me."

Joe's delicate gaze turned. His brow furrowed and his smile twisted as his eyes studied your own for a bit. You turned back to your cake, eating as much as you could before the permanent sickness in your stomach was too all-consuming.

Then you got up to toss your rubbish away. You left the people you knew mixed among the strangers who didn't know enough of you to cast appropriate glares on your creep through the kitchen. As you lingered in the back of the room, Lucy's sister led a group of girls in from the cold. She warned you the fire burning on the patio was close to dying out as she guided her friends indoors. You took it as a strange invitation to float out back to the empty ring of patio furniture. The head pounding music and bouts of laughter echoing from inside nearly became silent as you shut the door and drifted to sit on your own. This was the escape you'd been in search of earlier. But you weren't solo for long.

"You alright?" Joe's voice cut through the cold, after the storm door creaked shut behind him. You glanced up to the guy, who braced his arms at his chest, and waited to move closer until you gave the green light. You were afraid of what might happen when you answered.

"Yeah." You nodded smally, after a sigh. Joe floated toward the bench you'd sunken into, willing the cushions to swallow you whole.

"I don't know why you think I'd hate you." Joe stated, sending your mind to reel as if his daring to single you out wasn't enough of an emotional frenzy.

"You know why." You responded in an easier breath than you knew you had in you. Joe sat at your side on Lucy's posh patio furniture, while you turned your head, watching the fire die out.

"No, I don't. Even though it was all fucked up... I just... I guess I understood." Joe started, taking his time explaining things from his perspective. Explaining how he'd watched you and Gwilym fit together, and clash. How he heard some of the things you and Gwilym hissed at each other from other rooms. How you'd look at eachother with warnings. Joe said that when the truth came out, he was more relieved to know it, than offended. But you weren't totally convinced. You weren't relieved at all.

"I'm never not going to be sorry, Joe." You shrugged, casting your eyes toward him for a daring beat.

"What for?" Joe asked quietly, in a tone that suggested you didn't have a thing to be sorry for. Your eyes turned to your lap, searching for the right way to say what you felt you needed too. After a pause that seemed like eternity, you said,

"I wanted things to be so different..."

And then Joe said,

"Yeah. Me too."

Damn it. If you'd only just done something, anything differently, back then. You'd tried taking it all back. You'd tried letting time pass. Like all the movies said to do. So why did it feel worse than ever? Why couldn't you help but to hang your head, catch your breath, and bite back tears? You prayed the moment would pass. You prayed Joe would get up and leave you to suffer, leave you to adjust to your new normal.

You wouldn't let yourself cry. Not even when you felt the weight of Joe's hand in your shoulder. You held it together still, when he gently spoke your name, a vague invitation for you to let go, but you wouldn't. Joe wrapped his arm behind you. And when he did, all your practices nearly rendered useless. But instead of crying, you sank into Joe's side and closed your eyes. He let you.

///

He walked behind as you decided to head back in. And he said goodbye soon after, leaving with a tipsy Gwilym in tow.

Rami stayed to help clean up. Then he left Lucy with a kiss goodbye, on his way to enjoy the last of his brothers company in London. The house was quiet, but still buzzing with new born memories of laughter and commotion. Lucy was tired, and so were you. It was easy to pretend that you just craved sleep, and not an entirely different set of realities. So you saved expressing your regret for the shower and vowed to enjoy the rest of the weekend with your friend; who'd been looking forward to having you over since she conceived these plans at the beginning of the end of last year.

You always figured it would be easier to ignore your feelings. To steer clear from Joe. But with the way all your mutual friends seemed to enjoy each other's company, your plans fell through. So if you had to wind up so near Joe, you figured you'd better enjoy the slightest bits of his company. Because he'd smiled so easily at you. He'd been so kind. You didn't deserve any amount of his attention, but hell, you'd take it.

///

The next day you wandered down a few streets in the surprisingly warm London air. Pepperings of snow had melted away and you could have been fooled into dressing for spring if the wind didn't pick up every now and again. But still, you strolled alongside Lucy until you reached a small bistro, where she insisted on buying your lunch. She also insisted on listening to you talk, even though you were much more anxious to hear the deadly details of her much more exciting life.

She listened to your stories about Olive and Christmas time with Gwilym. She listened to you tell how nervous you were to come back to London, ready for some reality television show level of drama to bog you down. Lucy laughed at the prospect and kept pulling her phone into view when you stopped to take sips of your drink.

You realized why she'd been so taken with texting when your date was crashed. Of course, Lucy didn't tell you she'd invited Joe along. And of course, as he joined your table, Lucy stood to leave.

"Right, I've got to meet Rami to see his brother off. I'll see you later, doll, don't have too much fun without me!" Lucy shrugged into her coat and spun around after leaving you with the gesture of a kiss.

You couldn't help but laugh as she disappeared around the corner. Joe grimaced when he discovered that you'd been left out of the loop, swearing he hadn't dreamed of catching you off guard. You decided it was the way of things, in London. Anyway the wind blows... right?

It only took you the usual dread filled second to get past your blush. To assess Joe's windblown hair and his familiar posture. And just like that, after he ordered some tea and you sent Lucy a message full of hot headed emojis to decode, you and Joe delved into one of those conversations you always had with ease. The kind where he'd tell you an exceptionally long winded story about the madness on set. One of his exaggerated quotes would remind you of something from a long past summer camp, and then you'd get to talking about growing up. One thing always led to another, until there was no topic left to turn. Until the conversation you were never sure might come to life was the only one left to have.

It was Joe, in fact, who'd brought up some stupid thing Gwilym said on one of their days off. How he'd misheard an expression and argued with Joe, and Google, slow to admit his misunderstanding.

"Sounds like Gwil." You laughed, but only a little. Only to suppress the scream in your throat. You glanced down to see if Lucy had responded to the message in your lap, but only to avoid Joe's fossilized gaze. She had. She told you she had no clue when she'd be back home and reminded you where her spare key was hidden in case you became stranded.

And when you looked back up, Joe hadn't shifted his intently watchful eye.

"You know, we really should talk."

He was right. This was always coming, somehow, someway. Even as the universe tried its darnst to prevent it, still. Lunch hour had ended, and the bistro was closing. But all the reasons you'd said no to Joe in the past didn't exist anymore. So you asked if he fancied to walk back to Lucy's, where he could leave you be after giving you an earful.

The whole way there was sprinkled with mindless chatter to fill the gaps. The calm before the storm, you decided. You found Lucy's spare key with your heart in your throat, and tried to remember all the good things you'd come to adore about Joe that might mean he'd let you down gently. But you really deserved a good talking too. A totally battering of the heart and soul.

You floated to the kitchen, rambling through the same speech you'd given Lucy hours ago, about how uncertain you'd been about showing up in London after everything. How you expected to have heard many more curses from everyone, by now. How Ben's scolding you last night was only surprising due to the fact that it was cut short.

Joe listened, shaking his head every now and again, settling into the chair nearest you as the setting sun turned the room a dark, sad blue.

"Ben will come around." Joe nodded, after you cringed at bringing up how he spoke to you in this very kitchen.

"Well I'll understand if he doesn't." You assured. You'd come here expecting to spend time with Lucy, and find some kind of closure with everyone else. Even though you didn't want to.

"He will. He cares about you, y/n. We all do. Things like that aren't so easily changed."

You couldn't help but grin as your eyes rolled. Then, with all the compassion Lucy had shown you, and all the assurance Gwil had always given, Joe spoke up. He rambled for a bit about how September seemed from his perspective. How he was more relieved, than upset, when things boiled up and over. Because then, at least he'd hoped, all the times he'd caught you and Gwilym hissing at each other from the other room, would have ended. Joe hoped, when he found out the truth, that it was as simple as it seemed.

You laughed, because his definition of simple boggled your mind a bit.

"All I'm saying is I'm glad you and Gwil cared enough about each other to pretend to care a little bit more." Joe chuckled. "It all could have been much worse, ya know?"

"You're impossibly optimistic. But I'm glad." You pursed your smile, settling deeper into your seat, feeling less like your heart might explode.

After another bout of expressing your regret, and Joe assuring you had nothing to be sorry for, everything sort of felt like it used too. Your conversation floated from one thing to the next, like it always did. You spent the entire sunset yammering with the guy you'd always been too nervous to stand just near.

"Just exactly how long are you staying?" Joe seemed to suddenly wonder, when you chatter started to dissolve.

"Only until the weekend is up. I promised Lucy..." You noted, wondering if this surprise set up was something she'd had in mind all along. You wouldn't have put it past her. "She's apparently got very big plans for us the next couple of days.""

"Right," Joe shifted, his lovely smirk deflating every so slightly. "Well then it looks like this is our only opportunity to talk like this, huh?"

You figured so, trying not to look so distraught over how badly you really didn't want to leave Joe's company. It always got better each time. It always took you by surprise and put you at ease in one go. And maybe that was because you dreaded the times he wasn't near worse than the times he was. And this was one of the last, without another to look forward too.

"So, then, can I just say something I was hoping to have much longer to think through before speaking?" He grinned, but his tone was serious- deadly. A lethal pause started to set in, Joe shifted his weight and sucked in a breath. You did too, then nodded, doing your best to brace yourself accordingly. Joe seemed to consider his thoughts for a beat longer, each silent nanosecond sending your pulse into overdrive.

"I meant what I said when we met." Joe gave one sure nod before locking his forest colored eyes onto yours. "I still do."

"You do?" You asked, not forgetting the words he chose careful after knocking into you; but not understanding that he might have held onto them all the same.

"And when I told you I wish we'd met differently... this is what I meant. This was the kind of chance I had my fingers crossed for." Joe gestured between the two of you in the dim kitchen as the light started fading below windows.

"What? To remind me of the things you said without the fear of Gwil overhearing?" You laughed a little, still too afraid there was some kind of catch. An inevitable "but" that would show up and spoil the sweetness.

"No." Joe smiled, shaking his head. "No, not just to remind you of those things." His eyes searched your face, and there was no time to save the way your stomach filled with waves that reached your heart.

"Do you realize what you're saying right now?" You asked in a nervous waver.

"Yes. Everything I never got to before... and worried I might never get too."

You kept your gaze locked on Joe as he swallowed and looked to you in a way he never had before.

"All I'm saying is that I can't imagine I'll ever feel this way about anyone else, ever. And I don't want you to leave, at least not like last time. Preferably, nothing like last time. I liked you before I even knew who you were. That minute before I knew about Gwil. And even after then, too. And just thinking about letting you get away a second time kind of makes me want to cry. I'll understand if you think I'm fucking insane from now on, but... I don't want you to go."

"Where would you rather I be?" You dared to ask in a hush. You could make out Joe's piercing hope filled expression in the dim kitchen, but you couldn't believe he was looking to you like he had all those times before, still.

"With me." Joe said.

"You can't be serious." After everything? Even now?

"I've quite literally never wanted anything more."

Then, you thought, If he let all those months go by with time enough to grow resentment toward you, he didn't. He had time to find someone much more worthy of his adoration, but he didn't. He said he wanted you, perhaps more fiercely than he had when you collided for the first time. But there had to be a catch.

"Gwil will always be around." You reasoned. He was your rock. He was every bit of parent you couldn't be on your own. You weren't about to let go of his helping hand.

"He's my best friend." Joe shrugged.

"And Olive-"

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Joe grinned. And for another while, as you pitched cons, Joe batted back pros. He reasoned with all of your outlandish what if's and put all of your thought up worries to rest.

"And what do you suppose we do now, then?" You asked, in one final attempt to find a fault in his desperation. A crack in the daydream that was seeping into real life.

"We can figure it out as we go. I waited this long without you, what's a little while longer with us finally on the same page?"

You went quiet, searching Joe's pretty, stubble covered face. You'd already made up your mind long ago, hadn't you?

"Okay. I have at least seven hundred more questions... but okay."

"Yeah?" Joe asked like he couldn't believe he'd talked you into it.

"Yeah." You sat up a little, feeling more at ease than you maybe ever had.

"Well now I really don't want you to go." Joe grinned, drawing his brows close as he realized just because you'd decided to work through things didn't mean they'd get easier in a flash.

"Then..." You decided, because you'd done more than enough procrastinating and debating, "Why don't you stay?"

Because this might be it for a while... but you were damned and determined to make it better than ever before. "I agree that we shouldn't just jump into things..." You explained, considering your mission to move house and Joe's pending trip back to the US. "But I think you'd better kiss me, now."

Joe must not have wanted to waste another second, either. He leaned in before you'd even finished speaking. But just like before, when he'd almost kissed you, he moved slow. And you felt his breath fan over your face. But instead of lunging away, Joe kept inching closer until your lips collided. And then he kissed you the way you always dreamed he would. You kissed him back with every bit of stored up feeling you could pull out in such a hurry. It was a sweet kiss. A long time coming. It was a moment you could have frozen and stayed in, content. But it grew and grew, like the unstoppable way forests take over old roads once there was nothing stopping their sprouting.

Joe reached out, his fingers disappearing into your hair as you kissed him like your life depended on it. You couldn't stop the way you were drawn to him, not anymore. It was impossible to tell who moved first; if Joe yanked you closer or if you'd flung yourself into his lap. All you knew was that's where you ended up, and where you longed to stay for the rest of time.

You were too entirely lost in the way his mouth opened against yours. All you could focus on was how he'd kept you so close when the pair of you moved from the kitchen to the guest bedroom. It was some kind of miracle your head was clear enough to lock the door after Joe kicked it shut and pushed you against it.

You'd wanted this for so long. You'd always wondered what Joe's lips might taste like every time he stretched a smile across the same room as you. You'd pushed away daydreams every time his eyes locked on yours and lingered long enough for you to get lost in.

Now you didn't have to wonder what he might whisper in your ear, or the way his fingers felt against your skin. You got to know what it was like to look in Joe's fossil eyes, before they rolled back while you settled into his lap. You got to run your fingers through his hair and take a deep breath, thinking back to all those little times you'd dared to wonder about a time like this before. You'd always been so certain and scared it wasn't in the cards. But in the span of an evening long conversation, you were sorted. How could it have been so easy? How could it be real?

"I've wanted to be with you for so long." You whispered, hoping Joe knew exactly what you meant. The way you spoke of so much in one statement. You ran a set of fingers through his copper hair, trying to ground yourself from getting lost in the worry you'd become so accustomed too.

"I'm all yours." He assured, speaking in the way he did, that used to make you wonder if his tone was just in your head. It couldn't have been the case, you realized. Not when he spoke low in your ear in the same way, now. Maybe there was lots more to figure out. But this was more than enough for now. It was enough to accept the way he wanted you. And Joe must have really wanted you by the way he'd grabbed hold of you and moved to prove it. You knew better than to take a nanosecond for granted. You knew to relish the way Joe glistened before you. You swore through your fluttering lashes you spotted a halo. Even if it was a ring of light cast from the bedside table- it fit Joe's crown well.

///

Lucy came home long after you'd fallen asleep. The beaming of her headlights through the curtains and the sound of her car door shutting and locking roused you from slumber, barely. All you registered was her homecoming, and Joe’s arms and legs tangled up with yours. The pace of his gentle breathing at your side sent you back to sleep just as peacefully.

When you woke up again, with this rising sun, Joe was still out cold. You could hear Lucy humming in the kitchen, knocking about pans like she had the morning before. So you decided to take the cue to greet the day. You scurried to the en suite, tamed your hair and waltzed out to find what your friend was cooking up.

You had half the mind to scold Lucy for abandoning you, last afternoon. But she always had a knack for gifting her friends exactly what they needed, even if they hadn't really asked, hadn't she?

"You're up early for someone who was out so late." You playfully jabbed, shuffling past Lucy whose pretty face lit up upon seeing you. She stood near the stove, fussing over pancake batter and a tin of blueberries.

You were already halfway through your mission to pour a cup of coffee from the fresh pot across the room, as Lucy greeted you warmly as ever. She rambled for a bit about taking Rami's brother to dinner when his flight got delayed. You turned from resting your piping hot mug on the table in time to notice Joe had awoken, and was leaning against the frame of the kitchen doorway.

"Pancakes? Nice." He stifled a yawn, dressed in the joggers he'd worn the day before. Lucy spun on her heels with a startled yelp at the sound of his voice over her shoulder. Her tin of blueberries went flying, and you managed to catch it before too many tumbled to the tile floor. Lucy let out a string of curses, and a few steady breaths, as Joe was quick to apologize for scaring her into making a mess, crouching to collect the few stray blueberries as you handed Lucy the tin with the smallest grin. She returned your smirk before shrugging back to the stove.

"Breakfast for three, then." She said, obviously trying to keep an excited squeal at bay.

You poured two more cups of coffee and settled in for the most important meal of the day. While you ate, Lucy sat back, demanding to know what was going on. You and Joe traded between turns explaining, telling how you'd talked through most everything last night. How you had lots left to talk about, and lots to decide. But that you'd agreed to figure it out as a pair along the way.

After you'd finished your story, and thanked her for making breakfast Lucy dramatically wiped a faux tear from her eye. She stood to collect your empty plates, and urged you to get ready. Apparently, she'd gone all out, booking a day out on the town for the two of you.

"Sorry Joseph, but I've called dibs on this cutie. You can hang around here if you'd like. I'm sure we'll be seeing lots of you this weekend either way." Lucy giggled, yanking you through the kitchen door and toward your guest room.

As you rushed to fix yourself up and finished your makeup in the spacious en suite, Joe slipped in to tell you goodbye. He collected his wallet from the bedside table while you asked what he was up to today, only a little gutted to part ways.

"I've actually got plans with Ben." Joe rose a brow, leaning against the sink as you tore your gaze from your reflection and uttered a worried "Oh."

"I'll talk to him, okay?" Joe nodded. He'd been so certain last night, that Ben would come around. You'd been accepting of the fact that might not be true, but now the same fact worried you worse than before.

"Okay." You agreed with caution, turning to evaluate your reflection once more. Then you glanced to Joe's image in the same mirror, already missing him. Already anxious about the next steps you'd decide to take together. Everything between you and Joe happened pretty quickly, after such a torturous build up. But now you were back to taking it slow. You knew that was for the best. You knew Joe was worth it.

"See ya later?" You gave a small shrug, unsure of the proper parting phrase, after the conclusions you'd come too.

"No doubt." Joe smiled, pressed a quick kiss to your hair, and spun out of the room, yelling for Lucy to come and tell him goodbye. You didn't have a reason to suppress the butterflies in your stomach as you perfected your lipstick. You simply enjoyed how light your feet felt as you glided into another bright day.

///

Lucy dragged you from shop windows, to expensive stores. She pulled you along to try free samples of sweets and insisted you try on a pair of shoes that couldn't fit her feet, or your plebeian budget. You ordered tea and stopped in the middle of streets and markets to laugh until it hurt. When you'd wound up in the middle of a manicure with a glass of wine and a couple of nail techs who were eager to gossip with you; you had to stop from pinching yourself and messing up your fresh polish.

Lucy kept bringing up Joe, and all the times she'd caught him staring at you. All the times she thought she'd notice you stare back. She reckoned it was a good thing you'd finally found a way to go about giving each other a chance, no matter how strongly things came to be. She agreed fate was at hand. And so did you, because as you spoke so liberally of the lad, you seemed to summon a text message from him.

Joe: Ben wants you to meet up with us for dinner. He promises not to be mean anymore.

You read the message aloud to Lucy whose eyes grew wide. Your nails were dry by then, as you strolled about the city together. She insisted you skip her movie night plans, nudging you to agree and work things out with everyone's favorite stubborn blonde. You asked if she was really sure. Because you'd already missed one night of fun you could have had together. Lucy figured you could make up for it in the next night and a half you were still around, making loose plans to see each other in the near future all the same.

You admired Lucy's tenacious and tireless efforts at preserving your friendship, and agreed to see her later in the evening.

///

It was the same restaurant you'd come to that first night you met everyone. You couldn't be sure if the boys picked it on purpose, or if it was really the only nice joint open at such an hour. You glided through the doors with a keen chuckle. No matter how or why, everything seemed to come full circle. And with that you'd always be certain.

Ben and Joe were lingering near the back, at a table in the least bust section of the place. You noticed them notice you, and held your breath as your feet traveled closer. One thousand versions of the same sorry came to mind, as you felt Ben's eyes on you. The thing's he'd spat your way echoed in your head. You hated to think you hurt his feelings, broken his heart.

When you were close enough to open your mouth and say all the things Ben deserved to hear, you didn't get too. Because Ben stood up, and spoke first.

"I'm sorry." He croaked, reaching to pull you into a hug without question. You were stunned, for a second, but hugged him back tight. His jumper smelled like expensive cologne and his arms nearly squeezed your shoulders out of place. You tried to hug him back with matched intensity.

"Well, I'm still sorry too." You spoke, voice muffled by his jumper. "I did a stupid thing. One that could have been fixed a bunch of times."

You pulled away to look at the handsome guy you'd always been so humbled to call a friend.

"But you did it for Gwil." Ben nodded, giving your shoulders a final squeeze. He gestured for you to sit, and you followed his lead as Ben said something more.

"I'm not sorry for being angry. But I am sorry for how I acted and the things I said."

You shook your head, feeling the warm sting of tears press against the back of your eyes. "I deserved to hear those things. I needed someone to tell me how stupid I was being."

Ben commiserated and wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you leaned in for another hug. You'd missed his company so dearly, you missed how passionately Ben cared. He promised he'd always be around to knock some sense into your head.

"And anyway... all is well now, from what I hear?" Ben shrugged as you sniffled and cast a glare across the table to Joe, who was waggling his brow and sipping some fruity drink.

"I wish things were always this easy." You let out an airy laugh, reaching for the menu that listed the drinks.

"I'm just glad they finally are. Let's drink." Ben snatched the list from your grasp as you laughed, settling into your new reality. It wasn't much different from the one you'd known and loved, after all. After ordering, you dodged a couple of very embarrassing questions from Ben, and managed to talk Joe out of answering them. The three of you chatted most about the way things had been. Your favorite parts of the month you'd spent with Olive in tow. The boys claimed to miss her, but neither more than you.

Then Ben got a call from Rami. And through a short conversation you only heard one side of, you came to understand the leading man was coming to crash your dinner party. This was of course good news. You weren't sure you'd get the chance to see him again before the weekend was up, let alone spend with the cast you'd come to know and love all at once.

You weren't surprised to see Lucy had tagged along with her man. She cast him across the table next to Joe, so she could sit next to you and complain about the way she'd already chipped a very expensive nail.

"Somebody better call Gwil, he can't be the only one left out. Imagine the Instagram comment's he'd leave out of spite." Lucy piped up, glancing across the table full of your favorite people. Joe was first and fastest to volunteer, putting Gwil on speaker to overwhelm the guy with plea's from across your table for him to come and join.

When he finally showed up, and your waiter took everyone's orders, everything finally felt normal again. You sat in the middle of your five favorite people, arguing over each other, stealing chips, sharing laughs. And all the tension from before vanished. You hadn't realized how all captivating the stress from before had been, until you'd settled into peace. Until you felt Joe's knee knock against yours while he grinned as if to ensure he'd meant to catch your attention. You'd smiled back before taking a swing of your liquor for good luck, hoping a silent toast to the feelings that spread in your chest when you caught Joe staring you, would superstitiously keep those glances coming.

When you'd down a couple of drinks and Lucy had switched seats to take some ridiculous photo with Joe, you'd been instructed to use your phone to capture the moment. When you blindly reached into your bag, you pulled out something that wasn't at all what you'd been looking for.

It was Olive's beloved toy bat. The one she'd throw a fit over if it wasn't in view. The toy had been lost in your purse the whole time you'd been away from the girl. You locked wide eyes with Gwilym across the table and each of you let out an "oh shit" in unison.

He'd already been clutching his phone, giving you a look you knew meant he was checking in with the group chat that himself, James, and Andy made up three fourths of. Having been put ever so slightly at ease, you snapped the photos of Lucy and Joe toasting their drinks to each other- for good luck, you decided.

Before you could toss your phone away, it buzzed to life with a message from your flatmates. You checked in a hurry to make sure their world wasn't turned upside down by the baby they were sitting who was missing her prized possession.

The first message was a photo of your daughter, curled up at Andy's side, the stuffed penguin from the London Aquarium tucked under her other arm.

James: Think she's got a new favorite anyhow!

You smiled to yourself, tucking your phone away. Gwil would see, and be put at ease when he checked his end of the group chat later. For now, he was debating the best kinds of breakfast foods with Rami and Joe, each steadfast in their answers. The lot of you stayed there until Ben was slurring about Frankenstein, and Lucy had waited long enough for her one drink to wear off.

Gwil left you with the promise he'd see you again in a couple of days to give you a lift to the train station. Rami and Ben took turns trading hugs with you and everyone else, before piling in to head home.

Lucy corralled you and Joe to her car, insisting to both of you that Ben and Rami couldn't hear your exaggerated ongoing goodbyes from inside the car they drove off in.

And when the three of you piled into her ride, Lucy made plans to keep on drinking, and watch a few bad movies together, while you still had the time. She invited Joe to join in, not because she was quite keen to spend all night hearing his drunken rambles, but because she knew you were. He worried that he didn't have proper movie night attire, and Lucy insisted she could loan him some of Rami's joggers. You were buzzed enough to lean a little closer to whisper something in Joe's ear about not needing to worry about wearing any clothes, later. The two of you subdued snickers like a couple of virgin teenagers.

But it still took Joe the whole ride to Lucy's to gain the courage to hold your hand. And when his fingers laced through yours, you dared not let go for the rest of the evening. You were determined to hold on for the rest of the weekend. For the rest of forever. You weren't about to let Joe slip away, no matter what happened next. You were in it together, now.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

taglist: @sonic-volcano @imtheinvisiblequeen @redspecialty @itscale @stardust-killer-queen @joemazzelo @dancetohotspace @kiwi-hardy @joeneslee @borhapqueen92 @im-an-adult-ish @johndeaconshands @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @beepbeephardy @slutforbritdick @joemazzmatazz @almightygwil @sadhwstudent @freakibanana @lelifesaver @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band

#joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine

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marveloussupernerd · 4 years

Note

i'd love to request something if that's okay ;-; i seriously love what you're doing here :3 i love all of your writing, and it's so refreshing to find really good writing for mystic messenger in october of 2020!! you're seriously amazing. anyway, i have unfortunately contracted the coronavirus ;-; i have been feeling down and would love something of seven (or full rfa, up to u :3) taking care of a sick MC. is that something youre comfy doing? if not, that's okay! much love to u, stay healthy! <3

Of course! I’m so sorry you aren’t feeling well; I’m keeping you and your family / close circle in my thoughts!! Also sorry you had to wait for this, but I hope it still helps you feel better. I’m going to keep this general to just sick, bc if it were specifically c*rona things would definitely be different bc we don’t want poor Seven catching it too. But that’s not fluffy, so imma change it just a bit. Take care of yourself ❤️❤️

Seven with a sick! MC

You couldn’t get out of bed. You had been feeling absolutely miserable; you had a sneaking suspicion you had caught some sort of bug, but how you were feeling this morning confirmed it. At least it was the weekend: you had no commitments for the day. You groaned, then closed your eyes again.

You woke up to your phone ringing; it made you jump. You reached around groggily for it and saw it was Seven. You answered immediately.

“Oh! You answered quickly. Good morning, My Love. Haven’t seen you get out of bed yet so I just wanted to check in,” he explained, his voice peppy as usual.

“I think I’ve come down with something,” you groaned, your voice sounding absolutely disgusting and congested.

“Oh no. I do remember you saying you hadn’t been feeling well. Can I come see you?”

“No. I don’t want you to get sick.” You wouldn’t wish this illness on your worst enemy; you were quite miserable.

“Awwwww really? But the Defender of Justice, 707 never gets sick! I have an immune system of steel!” He bragged triumphantly, trying to make his voice sound all deep and macho.

You laughed, which led you into a fit of coughs. “That doesn’t even make sense. An immune system of steel.”

“It’s impenetrable, Babe. You don’t have to worry about me...” the line was silent for a minute. “Please let me come take care of you?” His voice was whiny. “Don’t make me beg.”

You sighed. “Okay. But if you get sick it’s your fault.”

“Yay! I’ll be over in five.” Before you could even question the fact that his house was definitely more than five minutes away, he hung up the phone. He knows the password to get in, you figured. You closed your eyes once again.

When you opened them, you saw Seven sitting in your bedroom on a dining room chair he had dragged over by your bed. He glanced up from his phone. “I was only gone for five minutes,” he teased. “You fell asleep quick.”

“How long was i asleep for?”

He shrugged. “About an hour. Now tell me. How are you feeling? What hurts the most?”

You pushed down the covers, turning in bed very slowly to face him. “Well... I’m super congested. And I keep coughing. And I’m sure you noticed but I’m just tired, Seven.” You felt stupid complaining, but figured he came here when you were sick so he was gonna know every detail of how you were feeling.

“Not fun. Have you eaten yet today? Any nausea?”

You shook your head. “I haven’t even got out of bed.”

“You look pretty cute in your pjs though,” he winked. “How about I order some soup for us? Soup always helps when you’re sick.”

“For us?” You giggled. “Did you forget to eat too.”

“Yup. But soup sounds good to me.” He took out his phone, tapping buttons. “Our Uber Eats is on its way.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. You pushed yourself out of bed, walking towards him to give him a hug. He was extremely gentle with you; normally his hugs were spine-crushing, but this time around he was so careful as though he was afraid you would break in his arms. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice slightly hoarse. “I’m happy you came.”

“I love you too. But you need to stay in bed. It’ll help you feel better,” he scolded, taking your hand and gently pulling you back to bed.

“Seven,” you giggled, pulling back slightly. “I have to pee.”

“Oh,” he dropped your hand, his face flushing bright red. “Sorry about that. I didn’t even think about it. Let me walk you to the bathroom.”

“I’m sick, not dizzy or anything,” you insisted, but there he was, an arm around your waist as you slowly made your way to the bathroom. “You’re not coming in with me,” you scolded as you reached the door.

“But what if you pass out? What will I do?” He sounded genuinely anxious, his eyes filled with worry.

“You’re adorable. I’ll leave the door unlocked just in case,” you comforted, shutting him out. He was so cute. So so cute. But man he was like a helicopter taking care of you. You figured it was because he never really had anyone to take care of him when he was sick; he must want to watch over you the way he would have liked to be watched over.

You were surprised he wasn’t directly outside of the door when you finished. He didn’t keep his location a secret, though. You could hear lots of banging and rustling in cabinets in your kitchen. You made you way over to there next.

“Babe! Glad you made it out of the bathroom safely,” he joked. “Sorry if I’m overbearing. I’m just worried about you.” He looked down at the cups in front of him. “Oh! I’m making you tea! Go back to bed and I’ll bring some in when it’s done.”

You strode your way to his side, placing a kiss on his cheek and thanking him, then followed his orders as he shooed you back to bed. From your room you could hear him singing quietly to himself as he prepared your tea. His voice was actually kind of pleasant to listen to. You closed your eyes and hummed along. Your relaxed state was broken when you heard him shuffle into your room. “Tea is done and soup is here. Aren’t we in for a treat?” He asked, balancing mugs of tea and cups of soup.

“Sure are,” you smiled. You cleared off a few things from your nightstand so that he could set some things down before he made a mess. He smiled at you fondly.

He opened one cup of soup first, dipping the spoon in. He held it out towards your mouth. You laughed. He accidentally spilled the soup. “What’s so funny?” He asked, very flustered as he took a napkin to your blanket to try and dry up the spill.

“I can eat soup on my own, Honey. Don’t worry about the stain.”

He sighed. “I know, but. I just want to do something for you. You’re my partner, you know. I’ve never dated anyone before and I just want to make sure you receive the best of care.”

“You’re so freaking cute,” you said, unable to hide the smile on your face. “Okay. You can feed me my soup.”

His face lit up like you had never seen before. He was more careful this time not to spill the soup, but he definitely took pride when he brought the spoon to your mouth and you took a sip of the broth. “I’m happy that you’re eating,” he noted, a few spoonfuls in. “We’re just gonna take this slow though, so if you aren’t feeling well we can stop.”

“I kinda like this. You taking care of me,” you exhaled, letting the warm soup help you with any congestion.

“Just wait until you move in with me. This all the time. Even when you’re not sick,” he winked.

You coughed. “You want me to move in with you? Like eventually?”

“Well duh,” he said it like it was a fact. “The sooner the better, although it will probably depend on how Saeran is doing. He seems to like you though. So long as you don’t mind him living with us.”

“I’d love that,” you grinned, closing your eyes to picture a happy life with him and Saeran. “Can we just rest for a while?” You asked, peeking your eyes open. “I’m getting sleepy again.”

“Of course.” He held onto your hand but made no other movements.

“In my bed,” you reaffirmed, pulling his hand slightly.

“Oh! You want me to lay with you?” He asked, as though he had never laid next to you.

“Yes! I wanna cuddle so bad. That is, unless you think you’ll get sick.”

He crawled across you into bed. “Defender of Justice doesn’t get sick,” he grumbled. You turned on your side to face him and he got to work situating himself quickly, a hand around your waist, pulling you close, and one resting above your head, stroking the ends of your hair. You nuzzled into his chest.

“This is kinda nice,” you sighed, breathing in his scent. It was comforting. “Is it okay if I fall asleep? Like you won’t get too bored?”

“I’m never bored when I’m with you. I’ll probably fall asleep too, with you safe next to me. Wake me up the second you wake up, though,” he whispered, his voice soft and loving.

“Okay.”

“Pinky promise?”

You reached your hand down to the one on your hips, looping your pinky with his. “Pinky promise. Thanks for coming to take care of me. I love you.”

He pulled up the blanket, tucking it gently around you. “I love you too, Sweetie.”

I hope this was okay and hope you feel better soon!!

#mystic messenger #mysme #707

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yayeetsonny · 4 years

Text

Hand in Hand~Alyssa Naeher x Ashlyn Harris

Prompt: there's a picture out there that looks like Alyssa is proposing to Ash so, here’s a proposal fic that was super fun to write.

Requested by: @knight-16

Alyssa PRO//

“Are you sure this is a good plan?” I asked Ali Krieger, my good friend and my hopefully soon-to-be fiancé Ashlyn Harris’s best friend.

“Yes, this is perfect.”

“Well what if I mess this up or, what if she doesn’t like the ring or, oh god what if she says no-”

“Lys, relax. She’s not going to say no. The women is head over heels in love with you.”

“I could still mess up.”

“You won’t. Trust me.”

I had been planning my proposal to Ashlyn for months, it took me 3 months to even decide on the ring for her. I have known she was the one since our second year anniversary. We’ve been dating for 2 and a half years and I couldn’t be happier. She completes me and I fall in love with her more everyday. I knew in my heart that she would say yes even if I proposed with a ring pop candy ring but I still wanted everything to be perfect.

The plan was to wait until after our game tonight and after we get back to our apartment I’ll ask her if she wants to go for a walk and then I would take her to our spot on the beach we like to visit almost everyday. Once there we’ll sit and chat for a while like we usually do and then I’ll carry out the rest of my plan and pop the question. I was beyond nervous but I was also over the moon about finally getting to this milestone with her.

“Hey babe! You ready?” Ashlyn said, taking me by surprise.

“H-hi love. I am.”

I quickly shoved my phone in my bag so she couldn’t see what I was showing Ali

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just nervous is all.” I admitted

“You have no reason to be nervous Alyssa, you’re starting in the game, which is a first for this set of friendlies I know but you’re going to show Vlatko just how amazing and badass you are.”

She came up behind me, and wrapped her arms around me, kissing my neck softly.

“Oh, you can do it just know that I believe.” She sang

I smiled softly when I realized what she was doing. We watched the High School Musical movies religiously and I instantly knew the song from the 3rd movie.

“And that’s all I really need.”

“So come on.”

“Make me strong. Time to turn it up, game on.” I giggled as we finished singing.

Ali was watching and recording the whole thing, smile just as bright as we were.

“You guys are the cutest.”

“Thanks, we try.” Ash said flipping her hair

“I needed that boost. Thank you.”

“of course baby. Now go kick some ass.”

She slapped my butt playfully as we started to head out to the tunnel. I met up with the little girl whose hand I would hold and walk onto the field and she talked animatedly about how excited she was to go out and I promised we would wave to her parents when we did. I was behind Megan who was first in line since she was captaining this game and when we stepped onto the field I was swept away by the crowd and how loud they were. I have been playing on the national team for years now but I will never get over that first cheer or the adrenaline rush I feel before a game. After the anthems, pictures and shaking hands with the other team we got into a huddle for once last pep talk

“Okay listen up. We’ve watched plenty of game footage and strategized, we can beat this team. If we take care of the big things, all the little pieces will fall into place, alright?”

We all nodded in agreement.

“Oosa on 3!… 1!… 2!… 3!”

“OOSA, OOSA, OOSA” We shouted together.

We broke off to get into our positions and I headed into goal. I took a deep breath, jumped up and down a couple of times and stretched my arms, determined to remain completely focused. I wanted a clean sheet really bad.

It was the 67th minute when things changed, up until that point I had stopped every shot that the Brazilian players sent my way, every set piece went off without a hitch and we were up 1-0. Unfortunately, Becky accidentally fouled Marta in the box and gave away a penalty. She turned to me looking guilty.

“It’s okay Beck, I got it.” I said patting her on the back.

I knew I could stop the shot and after listening to instructions from the ref and waiting for everyone else to be ready I turned out everyone else around me and focused solely on the ball. I could feel Marta’s eyes on me but I refused to look her in the eye because I knew she was trying to get in my head. She backed up a few steps before firing the ball toward the upper right 90, I could see she was going to go there so I leapt in that direction and was able to slap the ball away and out of danger. After I got up from the ground my teammates swarmed me and shouted praise in my ear as we hugged.

“SO BADASS!”

“FUCK YEAH BABE!”

“Go, set up for the corner!” I yelled

I was overjoyed that I kept my clean sheet but I knew we still had work to do and was locked in. They did as I said and Marta once again took the set piece, she sent the ball into the box but I was able to come off my line and punch it away. We regained possession and Abby passed the ball to Christen who passed it to Lindsey and she took it into Brazil’s final 3rd. Our counter attack was strong and I was watching intensely as my teammates went for another goal. Lindsey crossed the ball the Megan but she was between 2 defenders so she wasn’t able to get the shot off, she decided to pass to Alex who was able to fire it into the net. I watched as my teammates cheered and celebrated and I couldn’t help but let a massive grin spread across my face. The rest of the game went on without many chances for either side and we were able to walk away with a solid 2-0 win.

After we signed autographs and took pictures we all made our way back into the locker room, I was putting my stuff away when I felt someone pick me up from behind. I squealed quietly at the sudden movement but knew exactly who it was.

“THAT WAS SO BADASS BABY, I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU.” Ashlyn yelled as she set me down. I turned around and jumped on her, hugging her tightly as she peppered my neck with kisses and eventually moved to my head, face before finally planting a deep kiss on my lips.

“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yes you could, and you did. I just gave you a little pep talk.” She chuckled

We kissed some more before someone cleared their throat.

“Look, I love you both and you’re super cute together but please… get a room.” Alex groaned

I instantly felt my cheeks turn a deep red as Ash just smirked at her.

“You’re just jealous because Kelley grounded you from sex for a week.” She said

She just flipped Ash off and stomped away. Everyone laughing at her faking being mad. Kelley pouted at her sympathetically as she whispered something in her ear. A dopey grin spread across her face and I knew she had been freed from the dog house.

After an hour of celebrating the win Ash and I bid goodnight to our teammates and headed back to our apartment. We lived in Orlando together which was great but playing on different NWSL teams made being separated during the season hard but we made it work; we spent all of our offseason together and made sure to make frequent weekend trips to be together. I knew after I proposed, I would immediately get to work on requesting a trade to the Pride. Our regular season was almost over so the opportunity couldn’t be better.

“So, how do you want to celebrate your amazing performance tonight?” Ash whispered in my ear, slightly nibbling on it as we sat on the couch.

“W-well, I was thinking of taking a walk together on the beach.”

She took to kissing my neck and as much as I wanted to celebrate like that I had planned to much for this not to pan out.

“A walk?” She seemed slightly disappointed, I felt bad but we could always celebrate after we were officially engaged.

“Yeah, I would like to take a walk. It’s so nice out.”

“Okay, then a walk it is.”

I kissed her sweetly before whispering in her ear

“Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of fun later tonight.”

She shuddered and I smirked at her. She smiled at me before taking my hand and pulling me up with her. I pretended to go to the bathroom so that I could grab the ring I had stashed away and when I was sure I had everything I needed and shaken out my nerves, I reemerged and we left our apartment. walking hand in hand to the beach. When we got there, we walked along the sand, I had taken off my shoes and let the water flow over and under my feet, loving the calm, cool feeling.

“You did so good today, I’m so proud.”

“Thank you. You’re my biggest fan.”

“I always will be.”

After a while I led us over to our spot, which was a section of rocks that were comfortable to sit on and gave us a good few of the whole ocean. Ashlyn turned to me and I could have sworn her eyes were literally sparkling under the moonlight.

“Hi.”

“Hey there.”

We just looked at each other for several moments, and then Ash broke the silence by tapping me on the nose.

“You have such a cute nose, did you know?” She asked, smiling like a fool. “I didn’t but thank you. So do you.” I giggled, tapping her nose in return.

We continued messing around, smiling and laughing and I fell in love with her all over again.

“If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?” She asked

“I would be right here, with you.”

She smiled lovingly at me in return before kissing me. We sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before Ashlyn got up, turned away from me and stretched.

I knew this was my chance so without any hesitation I got down on one knee, ring in hand and waited for her to turn around. When she did, her eyes immediately filled with tears.

“Oh my god.”

“Ashlyn Michelle Harris, I have loved you since the day we met all those years ago. You are the light of my life, my rock, my person and I can not imagine my life without you. Will you make me the happiest women alive and marry me?”

She stood in shock for a moment, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. At this point I was in tears too, my heart was going a million miles an hour as I waited for her to answer.

“Yes, yes a million times yes!” She shouted as she tackled me into the sand.

“I love you.” She cried

“And I love you.”

Still on top of me, she looked down at me with so much love I thought she would burst. Our lips met in a passionate kiss and we made out for a moment before finally sitting up to breath.

“So what do you say, you wanna put the ring on?”

“Oh, yeah. I totally forgot about that.”

I laughed through my tears as I slid the ring onto her finger. It was a simple gold band but Thad a decent sized diamond in the center. She inspected it for a moment before saying

“It’s perfect, I love it.”

“I really thought and hope you would” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

We sat in silence again as we took in the moment, we were officially engaged and it meant the world to us both.

“How did you do so well at hiding this from me?” Ashlyn asked

“I had a little help from Ali.”

“Ah, I shoulda known. Good ol’ Kriegs.” She chuckled

“How do you think we should tell the team?”

“We could…. Invite them over for dinner tomorrow and see how long it takes for them to notice the ring?”

“Excellent idea.”

“I should probably tell Ali first, she’s been blowing my phone up for the last hour.” I laughed

“That’s a good idea. Tell her I said thank you.”

“I will.”

“I can’t wait to be Mrs. and Mrs. Neaher-Harris.”

“The day I get to call you my wife will be the greatest of my life.”

After I texted Ali, swearing her to secrecy, we laughed at her excited response.

I was excited for this new chapter in our lives and I knew no matter what life threw at us Ash and I would get through it together, hand in hand.

I’m sorry this took a hot minute. Sorry for any mistakes.

-N

#uswnt #uswnt imagines #alyssa naeher #ashlyn harris #alyssa neaher x ashlyn harris #unusual pairing #tiny little bit of kellex #ali krieger

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ohholyfanfics · 4 years

Text

Daycare 0.3|Tom Holland

Past Parts: One| Two

Author’s note: I thought it’d be easier to gave y/n an actual name so after much thought I’ve decided that the name Evelyn Rose Smith.

Tom’s weekend was spent between taken care of Liam and y/n, all while leaving Harrison completely frazzled by his best mates state. He watched as Tom lowly talked on the phone as he held a pen writing no doubt whatever else he needed to get from the store. Harrison wasn’t no fool and knew that Tom had been going out to see someone every couple of hours, it settled into a routine and followed it’s way into Monday and Tuesday as well.

“Leaving again?” he asked as Tom jumped not expecting him to be creeping from the sideline. His cheeks were flushed as he fixed his tie and nodded his head. Harrison looked down at his watching knowing Tom still had another hour and a half before he was due to pick Liam up. “It’s not time to pick little man up yet though..” he breathed testing the waters out.

“I just need to stop where beforehand.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow in question, he thought he knew Tom well enough to know there was something else. Or in this case someone, yet he wasn’t sure how to even approach the topic. The last time just as much mentioned dating, Tom nearly shit himself at the mere thought.

“Oh.”

Harrison watched his friend collect a few things from his office including a paper bag that seemed to have a few grocery items insides. He leaned back in the leather seat as he watched him fix his hair once more in the reflection of the glass windows. There had to be someone and he just hoped it was the same person that he had in mind.

The ride to Evelyn’s, Tom couldn’t help but feel a sheer wave of panic built up within him. He had promised himself that dating wasn’t something he was ready for and yet all he can think about was her. From the moment he woke, to the second he fell asleep. Yet even in his dreams her sweet smile and soft laugh hunted him. There was a longing feeling that loomed around him and he knows she was the only one that could tame it.

He ached to see her smile.

He wanted it directed towards him. For him. Because of him. He wanted to bring her joy; be the source of the way her eyes lit up and those cute dimples he loved so much to appear on her full cheeks. He watched her bring countless amounts of joy and happiness to everyone who knew her. He craved the warmth she’d give him.

He wanted her to show him the beauty she found in everything. Tom found himself craving things he’d never thought of before and the thought petrified him. Since the moment Tom had adopted Liam as his own, it’s always been the two against the world and now having her in his life scared him. It scared him to know that even time he closed his eyes he imagined her there, sharing even the tiniest of milestones Liam hit.

As much as he hated to admit it, he found himself falling and he was falling harder than he had ever expected it.

That afternoon things were slightly awkward between them, she was more put together than the past few days. Her hair wasn’t thrown in a messy state, that he had learned to love, no instead it was pulled back into a neat sleek ponytail. Her sweats had been switched to a pair of leggings but her torso remains covered in a sweater. Her face had color again and her voice was slowly returning to that velvety silk-like song he adored.

“You know you don’t need to keep checking up on me..” She breathed out as she took the last spoon full. As much as she appreciated everything he was doing, he was making it harder on her.

“I know..”

She studied him with a sigh before collecting both of their dishes and walking it towards the sink. Tom Holland was by far the most complex man she had ever met in her twenty-four years of living. She thought she had him figured out, but the man sitting behind her was most definitely not the CEO she was used too. This was the same man that had walked into Evelyn’s office a little less than two months ago.

“I just-I wanted too Evelyn.” He spoke a few moments later as her cheeks flushed. She was more than grateful to have her back to him. “I don’t look at that phone call as a mistake.” He pointed out as she nodded her head.

Looking back at him she couldn’t stop the swirl of butterflies within her, the same feeling that showed up that very night. Biting onto her lower lip, she allowed herself for the first time to feel everything that she had been locking away. She was falling for this single father, at a rapid speed that had her gasping for air. It was all so sudden it had her begging for some sort of relief.

Much to Evelyn’s joy and disappointment, it was Tom for leave, Liam’s day at the center was coming to a close. Standing by her door, she gave him a soft smile as he nervously stuck his hands in his suit pockets. His heart thumping rapidly as he looked into her olive-green eyes. She couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at the situation, it was almost comical as she looked into his soft eyes.

“Um, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She smiled softly as she leaned forward, his breath cut short as she placed a soft kiss on his cheeks. His eyes fluttered shut as the feeling of her lips lightly brushing against his flushed skin, sent his body into overdrive.

“Bright and early.”

The rest of her day was much uneventful other than the few texts from Tom and a very promising one from Harrison. She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips as he waltzed into her kitchen. It was clear he had come straight from work, a bottle of her favorite cheap wine and a bag full of take-out. She raised her eyebrow as he pulled a glass filling it straight to the rim.

“Rough day?”

She teased as she reaches inside the cabinet as he took a long sip. It wasn’t long before the pair were both seated at her table surrounded by Chinese take out and a glass of cheap wine. It was silent for a few moments before Harrison spotted the same bag Tom had been holding earlier. He couldn’t help but smirk before taken a good look at his friend.

“Feeling better?”

“So much Haz you wouldn’t believe the shit days I had.”

He smiled softly knowing Evelyn never took being sick well, he also knew she never allowed others to care for her either. Hence his lack of presence lately, but he couldn’t help but wonder made her cave. His thoughts were eating away at him that he didn’t even notice her talking to him.

“Have I lost you Haz?” She hummed softly shaking his shoulder causing him to flush and roll his eyes before giving her a soft smile.

“Sorry just thinking..”

“Penny for your thoughts..”

“Just thinking…”

“Oh no, that’s never good Haz.”

“It’s nothing like that Evy..” He breathed out as he sighed wondering if she would even react to what he had to say. It wasn’t that he was meddling, no he liked to think that he was helping. “I just, I think Tom has so much on his plate lately..” He tested the waters as she raised her eyebrows.

“Oh?”

“I just think he’s been so cooped up with Liam, he hasn’t had much time to himself.” He explained a she smiled softly and placed a hand over his. “I think he just needs to let lose a bit.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” She asked as he nodded his head. She tilted her head to the side taken a sip from her drink as she thought back to Tom. He did seem a bit dazed these past few days. “Maybe he just needs a night out.”

“He needs to get laid,” Harrison mumbled with a wicked grin as she chocked on her wine. Her cheeks were flushed as she let out a little awkward chuckle before filling her glass up. “Much like you.”

“I don’t need you insulting my love life mate.”

“Not insulting, I’m pointing out the obvious.” He stated as a wicked thought came to mind. She couldn’t help but sit straighter once she saw a wave of excitement flash across his features.

“Harrison no.”

“You don’t even know what I have in mind babe.”

“I don’t need to know what it is, to know it won’t be pleasant.”

“Just trust me, Evelyn Rose Smith.”

She walked into the center with a skip to her step as she welcomed Sophia who couldn’t help but chuckle. It was clear that she was better than ever as she helped the other teacher’s set everything up, as she rearranged the last few decorations for the spring. Taken a seat at her office, she looked at the pile of new applications knowing she had a few moments before Tom would be showing up.

“Knock knck.”

Looking up her heart swelled as she cheeks flushed at the beautiful flower arrangement that was starring right back at her. The pinks and whites blended so well it had her head spinning slightly as she met his bright brown eyes.

“Morning darling.” he breathed out with a soft smile as he placed the beautiful vase of flowers on her desk. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of pride wash over him as he took notice of her flushed expression.

“What are these for?”

“They’re a welcome back gift.”

“You didn’t have to Tom.” she smiled softly as she stood infron of him. The vase now in her hold, as she brought them towards her face. Her eyes closed as she took in the sweet smell mixed eith pollen. Biting her lip, she looked at him as a wave of apperication and adortion took over her.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you..” he mumbled as he shifted his weight on his feet, he lookeed at the clock on the wall and chewed on his bottom lip. “Um I should get going.”

“Um yeah of course..”

“I’ll see you later?”

“Um yeah, I’ll be here..”

Watching him walk away she couldn’t help but let out a soft squeal as she held the vase tighter in her hold. Tom Holland was going to be the absolute death of her.

Taglist:

@greenarrowhead @xinsonyax @rescue3000 @abschaffer2 @fav-fan-fic @cutiepiemimi13 @starkerismysexuality @jackiehollanderr @obsessed-librarian @parkeret @peterparkersdestiny @averyfosterthoughts @tomkindholland @yourbiggestspiderfan @ditzymoon

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arwenofrph · 3 years

Text

hihi !! i know i’m really knew to the rph / rpt scene but i was really hoping to maybe get some input on which plot to do ?? they’re described under the cut and you can find the poll RIGHT HERE !! tw: the following plots briefly discuss the subject of murder and death as well as the mention of blood

plot a : loosely based on the red queen series and the everless series

ever since the beginning, children have gone missing. It didn't matter if you locked your doors at night, or kept watch as your daughters slept; some way, somehow, they'd disappear. In time, it became a way of life. When your child was stolen, you blamed it on one of those creatures from your grandmother's old stories. You cried, you mourned, and you moved on. There was no time for anything more. And they, the noble Blue Bloods in their towering castles and pretty clothes, turned a blind eye to the misery that plagued their people simply because it was never their children missing. After all, what's a simple peasant girl's life worth? They ignored whispers that it was the Enchantress stealing away the children to drain the girls of their time and beauty to keep herself young and immortal. But that was only a nightmare, a scary story to keep your little ones in bed. The Enchantress didn't exist, never did. The deaths were simply the result of bleeders, preying on the vulnerable, easy targets. That was, until now. Five months ago, Elara Ululo disappeared from her room in Espea. Two months later, Maren Sansano from Doissa vanished during a ride with her guards. And if that wasn't worrying enough━ three weeks ago, Allynna Demito of Celygus went missing while her own brother was keeping watch in her chambers. Fear had finally managed to settle within the Nobles; tormenting them with the very idea that whatever this thing was that had been tormenting the poor, unsightly villages might even consider taking one of them. Will you survive in Dolos, and discover the secret behind the kidnappings? Will you be one of the lucky ones; and keep your time and blood long enough to grow old? Or will you fall victim to the darkness that plagues the lands and watch your time run out? There's only one way to find out.

plot b : an element - inspired plot drawing from original canon

The country of Silvera is separated into five kingdoms. To the East, lay the airbenders and the Kingdom of Wista; ruled over by the noble Joralei. To the West, is the kingdom of Meririwen where the waterbenders live. The North is the home of the earthbenders in the kingdom of Brerith, while the South is home to Calere where the firebenders live. And at the very center of Silvera, lay the home of the spiritbenders: Setta. Since the beginning of Silvera's creation, the five kingdoms have been at peace. Working together to ensure that all of their country flourished. They even arranged marriages between their ruling families. But all that changed when the heir to Calere, Prince Tarron Magdithas, was found slaughtered in his bedroom a mere month before he was meant to wed Neia Helenen of Meririwen. The window was found open. Broken glass was found around his lifeless body, and dirt at the foot of his bed. King Aubron Magdithas, who's mental state was already fractured, completely shattered and he blamed all the other kingdoms for the death of his favorite child. He's declared war on the rest of Silvera and will not rest until those he blames responsible are but a pile of ash and Silvera is nothing more.

plot c : loosely inspired by ever after high , the children of the storybook heroes and villains must attend school together but murder and secrets threaten the peace attempted to be made

In the beginning, there were two warring countries: Atria and Tamion. They were separated by a treacherous mountain range over two thousand miles long, save a single pass no bigger than ten feet wide. It was a road very few dared to travel, and those that did; disappeared.

Tamion lay to the left of the mountain. A dark and dreary place where the wicked and proclaimed-villains were forced to live. The sun rarely shone, the lands were barren, and what little did grow was bitter and never enough. Smiles and happiness were foreign there, and as their magic could not work; they were forced to live in squalor. It was a well-known fact that anyone in Tamion was a monster of the most devious kind. You were never supposed to trust anyone from there, and if you were unfortunate enough to meet one, it might be the last thing you do.

To the right of the mountains lay the beautiful Atria. A bright, wonderful place by the sea where all the fairytale heroes lived out their happily-ever-after. Things were storybook perfect there, with bountiful harvests, balls nearly every weekend and not a care in the world. Thoughts rarely strayed to their neighbors to the east, and if they did, it was met with a chill and terror. Unlike their neighbors, no one ever got sick, went hungry, or longed for anything. If anyone from Atria showed up on your doorstep, you could breathe a sigh of relief for no one from there could be anything but kind and lovely.

The two countries went on with great unease for many years; each deciding to leave the other alone and do their best to forget.

Then the sickness came. In less than a day, the fields in Atrion withered to dust. Within a month, their people had gone through the stores and were starving. Their closest trading partner would takes weeks to send assistance, and even what they could send wouldn’t be enough. The greatest minds came together, wizards and godmothers and fairies from all over Atrion tried their best, attempted to come up with any cure to the sickness that plagued their land to no avail.

They were lost. Until the Snow Queen spoke up with a dreadful suggestion. A Queen from Tamion known as Grimhilde, had a known proclivity for potions, curses, and poisons. She could provide an answer, and maybe even a curse, from the terrible infection that was one the verge of obliterating their kingdom.

Very few supported her proposed plan, saying that if anyone from Tamion knew just how weak Atria was, they could attack and win. But still the Snow Queen insisted, reminding their council that they could either keep their pride and cost their citizens their lives, or they could be the rulers their people thought they were, and ask for help. Even if it was from Tamion.

Lengthy discussions were had, plans drawn and ignored, before finally they all relented and their five most powerful, skilled rulers embarked on the journey to Tamion.

It took almost two weeks of meetings with Grimhilde to even consider helping Atria, for her hatred for the little princess who banished her and stole away the kingdom that was rightfully hers, had grown with every passing year. Yet eventually, with the promise of making things right by all those in Tamion, she consented to lend her skills.

But only for a price. Grimhilde wanted a chance at a fair life for her unborn babe; that none of Grimhilde’s sins would counted against the child. Or any of the children born in Tamion, for they were innocent of their parent’s misdeeds.

That night several deals were struck. Atrion would allow for Tamion to be one of their trading partners, and allow for a section of the mountain range to be removed so that they could reach the sea and sun themselves. Tamion would pledge to never engage in war with Atria, and come to their aid should they ever be in need. In addition, a place would built for both the children of Tamion and Atria, where they would all receive and equal education and then decide where they wished to live.

But perhaps the most important part, was the one Grimhilde arranged to ensure that Atria kept their end of their bargain. Eight children, each a child from the rulers of Atria, no matter if they were already born, was to marry a child from a ruler in Tamion. An attempt at peace, hoping that one day the two countries may become one and return them to true power.

They accepted, but only on the condition that the children were not to learn of their betrothals until they left T’Atria. Satisfied, Grimhilde provided a solution the next day, and within a week, Atria returned to its flourishing state.

As promised, they began construction on the promised school with help from both sides. It was built on top of the mountain range, ensuring that it was truly neutral and fell under neither’s reign. Named T’Atria, it was the most beautiful creation either country had ever seen and the children couldn’t wait to attend.

It was all anyone could talk about, and finally, it opened and it was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. Barriers broken, no one seemed to care about who came from where or who’s parents did what. They went off exploring and meeting each other, claiming others as friends and taking them with them as they took in everything T’Atria had in store.

For an entire season, it was nothing but excitement. A new adventure awaiting them every day.

But as anyone from Tamion could have told you, nothing good lasts forever.

Princess Rose of Escarla was the first to discover the gruesome sight the morning after the winter solstice, her screams so loud they woke everyone in the school. At the base of the main staircase lay Princess Aoife of Llyr; her body so badly beaten it was near impossible to identify her at first. And if that wasn’t horrifying enough, a message was written on the wall behind her in her blood; warning that this was only the beginning.

It’s been a week since her body was found, and the students are trying their best to move on. There’s too much as stake for them to just return home, too much risk.

But the threat of this murderer still being out there looms of the them, dark as the sky of Tamion. Will this mystery killer claim another victim? Will war break out when their parents learn of this treachery? What could have brought this on?

Join us, and find out exactly what happens after, happily ever after.

#rph #rpt #medieval rp #period rp #rpc #i want to do all of these eventually #but i want to know which one sounds more exciting tbh #and hopefully get some help running them to #because these do not seem like easy ones to run #artemis speaks #tw blood #tw death #tw murder

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frightenedofrabbits · 4 years

Text

To Thine Own Self Be True

Summary: Billy grapples with the causes and effects of his alcohol addiction while celebrating one month of sobriety.

CW: References to past child abuse, mentions of alcohol addiction and recovery, brief use of the f***** slur in reference to one's self. Be safe and take care.

Word Count: 2940

Also available on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25541203

Billy sat quietly on the park bench outside the church where he was waiting to be picked up. Between his lips rested a lit cigarette that was supposed to be calming his nerves but was hardly effective at doing so. Instead, his mind continued to race with all the thoughts about how fucked up he was, how impossible it seemed to ever really change. Unconsciously, Billy gripped tightly onto the small metal coin in his hand, gripping it so hard that the smooth metal edge dug into the palm of his hand, hurting a little and then a lot. When the pain became too much Billy loosened his grip and glanced down at the coin in his hand, it was a bronze color with the words ‘To Thine Own Self Be True’ etched into it. He’d just received the coin that night as he celebrated one month of sobriety.

Billy’s mind raced with what this meant for him. He had made it one whole month without a drink. According to his sponsor this month was the hardest, it would get easier from now on, now that the withdrawal symptoms are mostly over. Billy recalled the sleepless nights, the headaches, the mood swings, and the overwhelming anger he’d cycled through this month. It had been horrible, he had been horrible. But now things were calming down a little. He could make it an hour or two at a time now without thinking about having a drink. He could trust himself to walk to the store without wandering towards the liquor store where the old man behind the counter would give him a nod as he bought bottles of cheap booze.

But sobriety was not easy nor was it enjoyable. Billy hadn’t even thought he had a problem until that night over a month ago when he got pulled over for drunk driving and was arrested and given a DWI. Billy had driven while intoxicated so many times before, but this night he got caught. Getting arrested by the man who was like a father to him had finally started to awake Billy to the reality that he might have a problem. Then, the next day Hopper and Steve sat him down, and told him he needed to get help. It wasn’t an intervention nor an ultimatum, but it was a heavy suggestion from the two people he valued most in the world. Billy had tearfully agreed to give up drinking and it was from that day on that he hadn’t had a single drink of alcohol.

Billy wanted to be proud of himself for receiving his 30-day chip, for making it this long without a drink. But his pride was overshadowed by all the negative thoughts racing through his mind. Drinking had been fun for him, he’d started drinking at a young age, going to parties and getting wasted was a way of life as a teenager. It wasn’t a problem because he was a good student, he kept his grades up and played sports. So what he spent his weekends getting so wasted he couldn’t remember most of what he’d done? It was just having fun so it was no big deal. After graduation Billy had gotten a job working for a local mechanic, he had the grades for college but not the money so he was still stuck here. But it wasn’t all bad, he had his boyfriend Steve and they had their own place on the edge of town.

Except slowly but surely the drinking began creeping into the week. A drink right after work, turned into a whole twelve pack right after work. Eventually this led to a few beers before work which to be fair Billy knew was wrong. He knew it was bad enough to be drinking in the morning that he hid it from his boyfriend. Going to work drunk had begun to create its own set of problems. Just a few days before his arrest, Billy had almost dropped a car onto himself because he’d been so out of it he almost pressed the wrong lever on the car jack. His boss had been standing right beside him and caught it in time but it was a close call.

The first thirty days of his sobriety had been difficult and would certainly have not been successful without Steve’s constant presence and support. But his new sobriety left Billy with a lot to grapple and he began to realize the reasons he probably drank so much in the first place. The worst part of sobriety had been the near constant voice in his head, that of his father reminding him of what a piece of shit he was, how disgusting he was for being gay. Even though Billy hadn’t seen his father once in the three years since high school graduation, the legacy of his father’s abuse still lived with him. Now he was reminded of his father’s words every time he held onto Steve’s hand for comfort or laid his head on Steve’s lap while they watched TV. He had his father’s voice calling him weak, calling him a faggot. He’d have to fight with himself to keep his hand in Steve’s and to keep his head on Steve’s lap where he felt so safe and comfortable.

Billy began to realize one of the reasons he drank so much is because it dulled the memories and the pain of what his father inflicted on him. Every punch to the face, every kick to the rib, every horrible word his father had screamed in his face felt so much clearer now. The memories of his mother were clearer now too. The good came along with the bad. He could remember her beautiful golden curls and the smell of her perfume better. But he could also remember the fights and seeing his dad hurt his mom. Worst of all he could remember too clearly the day his mom killed herself, the day his dad found her hanging in the garage. Having to see the paramedics wheel her body down the driveway and to their vehicle in a black bag.

Billy found himself unable to sleep much because of the memories and the way they assaulted both his waking and sleeping hours. He tried to hide his pain still, tried not to let Steve see him breakdown when it all became too much. But just last night, Steve had found him curled up and crying on the bathroom floor and finally Billy began to start opening up to Steve about his mom. About the reason they’d even moved to Indiana in the first place because he kissed a boy and his dad found out and broke several of his bones. Billy knew he needed to open up about his past more and he knew both Steve and Hopper wanted to help him but it was easier said than done.

He’d been alone for so much of his life, alone with his pain and heartbreak. He was always so alone with anger and fear and his only outlet had been to lash out at others, to spread his pain around so he wasn’t the only one with it. But then he’d found Steve, he’d wisened up enough to apologize to Steve and having someone around who genuinely cared had helped him so much. But love couldn’t fix all the demons that lived within Billy and he was just starting to realize he had a lot more work to do.

When Billy thought back to the night of his arrest it was mostly a blur. He had been a 12-pack deep by the time Jim Hopper pulled him over so any memories he had were fuzzy at best. But he remembered the feeling of sobering up in the jail cell, of looking out and seeing Hopper looking at him with sadness and disappointment. Waves of shame had rolled over Billy as he realized the gravity of his mistake. Hopper had been there for him since high school, since that time when his dad went too far. It was thanks to Hopper that the last half of his senior year was injury free and Hopper had even rented his old single wide trailer to him and Steve after they graduated. Hopper was someone Billy looked up to and wanted to be like and it was in the moment that he sat looking out of a jail cell that he knew he’d let the man down.

Billy had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard or seen the Beemer park in front of him. It wasn’t until he heard his name yelled that Billy looked up and saw his boyfriend waiting for him. Billy rose from the bench where he sat in front of the Grace Emmanuel Church, the basement of which his AA meetings were held. Steve was smiling softly, his brown hair tousled gently in the soft summer wind and his face aglow from the golden light of the setting sun. Billy held his breath for a moment as he gazed upon perfection. His chest panged with a moment of doubt, doubt that he deserved someone so perfect while he was so fucked up. Steve was good, easily the most kind hearted person he knew. Billy wrestled with his own selfish desire to love Steve and what his mind reasoned was the right thing to do and let him go so he could be with someone more worthy.

Billy tried to shake the thoughts from his mind as he walked forward and went to the passenger side door of the Beemer. His Camaro sat idle in their driveway at home as his license was suspended for the next five months. As soon as Billy sat in the car Steve leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Hey baby, how was your meeting today?” Steve asked in a gentle and interested voice.

Billy shrugged noncommittally. “It was fine, I got this,” Billy said as he held up the thirty day chip to show Steve.

Steve’s smile grew larger as he took in the bronze colored metal chip that signified the 30 days Billy had been sober. “Wow babe, I am so freaking proud of you. I know how hard it’s been but you’ve stuck with it.”

Billy felt slightly embarrassed by Steve’s praise. Part of him was happy to be recognized for his efforts because it had been really fucking difficult. But another part of him felt ashamed to be in this position in the first place, the only reason he was here and getting this chip was because he was so fucked up.

“Thanks Steve,” Billy muttered quietly as he kept his other thoughts to himself. They were quiet during the drive home, the only sound in the car was the Led Zeppelin cassette Billy had bought for Steve when they first started dating playing gently in the background. Billy let his mind wander as the music and the gentle pressure of Steve’s hand resting on his thigh helped to ease his racing mind. Finally Steve pulled up to the single wide trailer that was their home. The two of them were saving up money to move, but it was slow going.

Billy followed Steve into the house, all the while clutching the coin in his hand. Once inside, Steve spun around and pulled Billy into an embrace, one which Billy melted into. Steve was and always would be his happy place. “So proud of you baby.” Steve muttered into Billy’s ear once again before moving to plant a sweet and gentle kiss on his lips. They parted but Steve still had his arm wrapped around Billy’s waist as they moved to their small and cluttered kitchen. Steve loved to cook but wasn’t always the best at it, but he practiced a lot and was genuinely improving. Billy only had to pat his slightly pudgier midsection to appreciate how far Steve had come. Gone were his days of being a high school athlete, the lean muscle of his younger years had faded fast once he was no longer playing basketball.

Billy let himself be led to the kitchen and was surprised to see a chocolate cake sitting in the middle of the table. Steve led him over to the cake and Billy stopped when he saw it. “Surprise!” Steve shouted, a smile spreading across his face as he watched Billy take in the sight. On top of the cake in sloppy white writing it read ‘Happy 30 Days Sober’. Billy couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the cake.

“Steve you shouldn’t have,” Billy muttered shyly.

“I wanted to surprise you and celebrate your accomplishment. You amaze me everyday with your strength and dedication and I just always want you to know that I see it. I see your struggle and your perseverance and I love you more because of it.”

Billy felt like he might just cry upon hearing Steve’s words to him. He fought back the tears but let out a small chuckle. “No babe, you really shouldn’t have,” Billy said as he patted his stomach. “I don’t really need anymore cake babe.”

Steve swung around so he was facing Billy once again, this time his expression a little darker. “You’re still the single most sexy man I’ve ever seen in my life and you always will be. You’ll definitely be just as sexy to me after you eat some of the delicious cake that I made you.” Billy swallowed, suddenly feeling a little turned on by the way Steve was looking at him and Billy let any worry about his physique melt away. The two turned back to look at the cake and that’s when Billy saw an envelope sitting on the table next to the cake.

“Did you get me a card babe?” Billy asked as he reached for the white envelope. “No,” Steve said as he shook his head. “Max dropped it off earlier. She wanted to give it to you herself but she has to study for a big exam tomorrow so she just left it with me.”

Billy tore the envelope open and inside was a card with a cute little orange kitten on it. Inside the card Max had written about how proud of him she was and that she loved him and was happy to have him as her brother. This time Billy couldn’t hold back the few tears that streamed down his cheeks.”Fuck,” Billy muttered as he swiped at the tears frantically, he still held so much shame about being a boy who cried. He tried to remember that it was normal to cry and it didn’t make him weak but his father’s voice still lived within him, taunting.

Steve wrapped Billy up in his arms and held him as Billy cried. He cried for the little boy he’d been. The boy whose mom killed herself, the boy who realized he liked other boys, the boy whose father hit him, the angry boy, the sad boy, the anxious boy, the self-doubting boy. He cried for the man he had become. The man who was surrounded by love but still damaged by his past. The man who was trying so hard to fix his life and be someone worthy of the love and affection of those around him. It was all so difficult but he only had to realize he was wrapped in the arms of the man he loved to remember that he wasn’t doing this alone. He only had to look forward at the polaroid images that littered their refrigerator where he saw a photo of him and Hopper shoveling his car out of the snow last winter. He saw the photo of him and Max wearing matching Santa hats, her smiling and him grimacing. He saw the photo of him and Dustin mid-argument during a game of Dungeons and Dragons, with Steve sitting behind the two of them looking bored out of his mind. These were the photos of his family, of the people who loved him and supported him.

Billy’s tears finally dried and the heaviness that had been in his heart eased up a bit. Steve still held him but slowly Billy was able to pull away. “I love you so fucking much Steve, wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you.”

Steve smiled gently, “It’s a good thing you never have to be without me. I love you Billy, so so so much.”

Billy smiled and pushed away the thoughts of doubt that tried to creep in. He let himself enjoy a sense of calm as he watched Steve cut them both a much too big slice of cake and pour them each a glass of milk. The two ate their cake and made easy conversation about their day as they ate. As Steve talked about one of the kids he watched at the daycare center Billy looked down at the bronze coin which rested on the table beside his plate. He took in the etched triangle design and the giant number 1 inside of it. He had made it 30 days and all he had to do was take it one day at a time. It was in that moment as he took the last bite of delicious chocolate cake and listened to the love of his life talk that Billy finally felt some assurance that he could do it. There would be more coins in his future, for the first time in a month, Billy finally felt like he could make it.

#harringrove #billy hargrove and steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fanfic #billy hargrove and steve harrington fanfic #alcoholic billy hargrove #billy hargrove recovery

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khoicesbyk · 4 years

Text

My First Two Loves.

First Time Love. Part 1.

A/N: I’ve read a multitude of books. And this one is becoming one that I thoroughly enjoy. So; Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. Contains sexual content, brief mention of violence and strong language. You know? The basic usual from me. 😁 | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Characters: Isaiah Harris (LI) and Kailah Price (MC) | All Characters: names (except MC) are property of Pixelberry. | All Characters are 18+ | A/N 2: This story follows the plots of Ch. 17 and 18. There are mentions of underage drinking in both this two part story and the original MTFL. This is also a story about sexual discovery. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised. | A/N 3: Song and Story Inspiration: Chaka Demus And Pliers-Murder She Wrote | Childish Gambino-Redbone | Lita-Ciao Ciao | PJ Morton feat. JOJO-Say So | Rihanna feat Drake-Work | Daniel Caesar feat Brandy-Love Again | Current Word Count: 2,193 words.

Weekly Challenge Prompt: “I honestly don’t know.” This one was not only easy but hella fun! 😁

It was her first time ever experiencing something so life changing.

It was her first time experiencing him.

Let’s go back, shall we?

Kailah was excited for tonight. She was going to her bestie Brandi’s big bash. Brandi’s parents were gone for the weekend, she had the house to herself so what else does an 18yrold do? She throws a giant party for all of her friends and fellow seniors! Because; what 18yrold wouldn’t do that?

After she got herself all dolled up, and after she texted Isaiah and Jaylen a photo of her outfit; Kailah was down the steps; and headed for the door. Until she ran into her dad and had the biggest argument of her life with him. Not because of her grades or anything like that. No; it was because he felt she was abandoning her commitments in favor of; spending too much time with Isaiah.

And well; she felt like he was being a hypocrite and told him so. It wasn’t until she brought up her deceased mom that it all went left; and she was effectively grounded.

Leave it to her sister MacKenzie to come up with the plan of a lifetime. She was gonna sneak out and go to the party; despite her dad grounding her. Besides; she promised Isaiah she’d be there so she had to go. She didn’t want him to be there by himself.

When she got to the party; it was already popping and Brandi was already drunk. Kailah loved her best friend more than anything; but even she thought Brandi had over done it on the booze.

“Giiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrllllllllllll you made it! And damn you look sexy, baby! Somebody’s trying to get fucked tonight!”, Brandi said as she wobbled up to her best friend. “Babe! How much have you had to drink?”, Kailah asks her as she tries to peel her very drunken friend off of her.

“I honestly don’t know! I started drinking before everybody got here so…”, Brandi replied with a shrug; while trying to steady herself. “Okay! Let’s get you some water babe. You need it!”, Kailah says to her as she tries to steer her best friend to the kitchen.

That’s when Jaylen called out to them, “there you two are! And Brandi you don’t look so good.” “Kai was gonna get me some water! Isn’t she like the sweetest thing ever?!”, she drunkenly asked Jaylen before flinging herself across him. “Yeeeeeeah…I think I’ll get you that water. Come on.”, he tells her as he drags her to the kitchen. “Best! Boyfriend! Ever!!”, she drunkenly squeals as she follows him.

She hated to see them together so; she decided to find Isaiah. When she scanned the room she saw people; drinking, laughing, dancing and generally having a good time. But; she didn’t see Isaiah. Knowing Brandi’s house like the back of her hand; Kailah decided to check the backyard before she checked the basement. When she stepped onto the patio; she saw that the backyard was in shambles. But again; she didn’t see him.

Until he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You look like you lost something. Maybe I can help you find it.”, he whispered in her ear. She turned her head and smiled up at him. “Who told you to come out the house looking like a five course meal?”, he asked her; clearly letting his eyes roam over her body.

“Stop it! Are you enjoying the party?”, she asks him. “I mean if you wanna call high school cliches, cliques, loud music and spiked Jamba Juice a party then yeah; I’m having a blast!”, he says sarcastically with a shrug. She just rolled her eyes and giggled.

“But now that you’re here; I might just enjoy myself after all.”, he told her with wolfish grin.

“How’d you do on your test yesterday?”, she asks him. He raised his arms in victory and said, “nailed it!”

“Told you! Now all we gotta do is keep it up; and you’ll be pulling girls at Princeton in no time.”, she told him as she beamed with pride at him. He just shook his head at her.

“So, I was thinking about ditching this snooze fest.”, he told her. “Already?! Awwww!”, she pouted. It made him want to suck on her bottom lip. “I mean you could always come with me, ya know?”, he told her. “Ohhhh really? And where would we go; should we decide to leave?”, she asked him with eyebrow raised.

“We’d go back to my place. My mom doesn’t really have any restrictions on me having company over, plus my sister is at my cousins for a weekend sleepover thing and my brother is out with his friends for God knows how long; doing only God knows or who for that matter. So, we’d pretty much have the whole house to ourselves.”, he told her as he wrapped his arms around her again; and pulled her close so that she was flush with his chest.

“Tempting. And what would we do, alone at your place?”, she asked him in a not so innocent voice. “Whatever you want to do babe.”, he whispered in her ear. His voice was low and husky; and in sent a winding chill down her spine. Before she could answer; Jaylen popped around the corner; causing her to take a step back from Isaiah.

“Well! Well! Looks like juvie actually showed up, tonight! He’s not bothering you; is he?”, he asks her. While Isaiah rolled his eyes; she replied, “no Jay he’s not. We were just talking.”

“Are you sure? Because; you know that I can always have him thrown out of the party, right?”, he told her.

“Heyyyyy golden boy! Are you deaf? She just said that she’s fine!”, Isaiah snapped back at him; clearly agitated at this point.

“Who said I was talking to you, juvie?”, he told him. “Man! Don’t make me embarrass you in front of her!”, he replied to Jaylen. “Please do. Because; I’ve been dying for round 2 with you!”, he told him as he got up in Isaiah’s face. “I bet you have, golden boy! Especially with the way the last time went. You gotta regrow your balls somehow!”, he told him.

After remembering how the last time these two got into it turned out; Kailah stepped in between them.

“Stop it! Both of you! Jay I’m fine! I’ll be inside in a few. Go get the games started. We’ll be there shortly.”, she told him to get him to back down. Jaylen turned on his heel and went back inside.

That’s when she turned to Isaiah and said, “Isaiah please calm down! It’s not worth it!” She watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

But; soon he calmed down after he saw the look of concern on her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let him get under my skin; but somehow he always does.”, he told her.

“It’s okay Isaiah. I know he can be aggravating at times. Trust me. Now let’s go play a couple games. And we can discuss leaving later.”, she told him as she led him back inside.

After a few rounds of truth or dare; that included Isaiah taking body shots off of Kailah and using her as a weight, Jaylen stripping down to his underwear and doing laps up and down the street and more than a few nearly embarrassing truths.

It was time for everyone’s favorite card game: Suck and Blow. The rules are simple: pass a card from person to person; by only using your mouth.

What started out innocent soon turned awkward between Kailah and Jaylen. When the card slipped from Jaylen’s lips before it reached hers. And; he inadvertently kissed her. “Oh geez! I’m so sorry, Kai! That wasn’t supposed to happen!”, he sheepishly told her. He had a look a completely embarrassed look on his face.

“It’s all good. ‘Twas an was accident. You good!”, she told him. In the very back of her mind; she wasn’t so sure that kiss was an accident or that he was sorry about it. Especially when she saw the irritated look on Isaiah’s face. But; it wasn’t her that he was irritated with. He knew that kiss wasn’t “accidental”. Or at least; he knew that it wasn’t an accidental kiss on Jaylen’s part.

After a few more crazy and hilarious rounds of Suck and Blow; the living room had dissolved into a full on dance floor. With bodies swaying to whatever random song played on Pandora; Kailah was hoping to dance with someone.

While Jaylen was dancing with a VERY drunk Brandi; Isaiah walked over and asked, “hey Kai…wanna dance?” She eagerly accepted his invitation.

Being that close to him, feeling his strong arms around her, dancing to the beat, inhaling the scent of his musky cologne. It all had changed the way she looked at him. The world just disappeared, when she was with him. It was there in that moment; where she realized how much she started to really deeply care about Isaiah.

That moment of internal bliss was interrupted by Lauren; when she swayed right into them both, spilling her drink on Kailah. “Seriously Lauren?! Look what you did!”, she snapped at her. “Whatever! Just go wash it out in the bathroom, you’ll be fine!”, Lauren snapped back.

Rather than punch Lauren in the face like she was dying to do; Kailah stormed off to guest bathroom to clean herself up. While she was in the bathroom cleaning herself up; she got a text from her dad.

Daddy-o: hey you two, they need me to work a double tonight. So I won’t be home until some time late tomorrow morning. Don’t wait up! Love you both. Goodnight.

Younger sister unit: Kk

Me: 👍🏾

That’s when there was a knock at the bathroom door.

“Hello in there! This is your friendly neighborhood chimney sweep calling!” With a giggle she replied, “you’re an idiot Isaiah! The door isn’t locked.” When he entered the bathroom behind her; she soon found herself alone with him. “Damn. Brandi’s parents must have some serious money. This is a nice ass guest bathroom!”, he said before asking her, “You okay? I came to check on you.”

“Yeah I’ll live. I just a got text from my dad. According to him, he’s working a double at the hospital; and won’t be home until some time tomorrow morning.”, she told him. He cocked an eyebrow at her with mischievous grin on his face and said, “so that means that you and I can go around town and cause mischief and mayhem!” She shook her head at him and said, “and what kind of mischief did you have in mind, Mr. Harris?”

“Well Ms. Price, the mischief I had in mind begins with us; getting the fuck outta here and going somewhere much quieter.”, he told her. “Is this your way of asking me to go with you; back to your place, Mr. Harris?”, she asked. “Not in so many words but; yeah.”, he replied as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hmmmm…I’d love to!”, she said. His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Perfect! There’s just one thing.”, he said. “What? What is it?”, she asked. “I’ve just been thinking about that so called kiss you shared with golden boy.”, he told her.

She grimaced as she thought back to it. “I’m sorry Isaiah. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk to you.”, she said to him. “I ain’t mad at you, Kai. It just got me to thinking. That’s all.”, he said to her. “Thinking about what?”, she asked. “It got me to thinking; why does golden boy get to have all the fun?”, he said to her. “What do you mea—“, was all she said before his lips devoured hers.

His kiss was hot, hungry, powerful and definitely horny. When their kiss was finally broken; she was out of breath and he was apologetic. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have done that.”, he told her. “No, you shouldn’t have!”, she said before she pulled him into another hot kiss. He effortlessly picked her up and sat her on the sinks’ marble counter.

With her legs around his waist; he leaned her back towards the bathroom mirror. They couldn’t get enough of each other. He started to trail hot kisses down her jaw and the hollow between her neck and her ear. Doing so, not only made her whole body hot but; it made her shiver. He wanted to keep going but; he stopped to whisper in a low growl, “ohhh yeah. We are definitely getting the fuck outta here, now!” She simply smirked at him and said, “Well…lead the way.”

With that; he pulled her off the counter and out of the bathroom and house they went, no goodbyes to anyone, nothing. They just left. When they got outside, he tossed her his extra helmet, she climbed on the back of his bike and they were gone. They were on their way back to his place; for a very fun end to their evening.

Stay tuned for Part 2!

😘

Tag list: @txemrn @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesweeklychallenge @lucy-268

#choices #choices fanfiction #pixelberry #choices stories you play #fanfic #khoicesbyk #pb mftl #mftl #choices mftl #my first two loves

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 41

Warnings: mention of mental health issues

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @ocfairygodmother

She stands in the doorway that leads from the house into the garage, watching him as he works. Just three hours ago those hands -so big and strong, calloused and scarred, powerful- had been patiently and gently braiding his little girl’s pigtails; securing them with ribbons. Now they inspect a variety of automatic and semi-automatic weapons; stripping them down, cleaning every individual piece, then expertly putting them back together. His movements are methodical and efficient; never hesitating, never second guessing, just fluid, effortless motions of a man with years of experience behind him.

It’s been years since she’s seen him THIS intense. A level that only comes with the game; memories of past jobs and the things he’s had to do to survive and the knowledge that he’ll have to resort to them in the near future. His lips set in a thin, stern line and his brow furrowed with both concentration and worry; eyes dark and focused. Haunted, even. A man whose fractured and tattered brain holds very vivid recollections of the things he’s seen and heard. Whose hands know what it’s like to take the lives of others; whether through hand to hand combat or with the squeeze of a trigger. It isn’t an easy thing to do; even when your own life is in danger. You always wish there’s another choice; one that won’t result in bloodshed and death. You kill out of necessity, not desire or enjoyment. Not because you thrive on the snapping of bones or the sight and full of someone else’s blood covering your hands and body. Not because you ‘get off’ on the sick thrill of watching someone take their last breaths; seeing hope and then life drain from their eyes. You do it because if the shoe were on the other foot, they’d be rejoicing in your demise.

There ARE mercs like that; who have become accustomed to killing. Desensitized. Physically and mentally enjoying the brutality and the finality. She’s witnessed it first hand; those that brag about their kills (the more gruesome the better) while their eyes glitter with victory and excitement. But that’s not Tyler. It never has been. The reputation of a merciless, savage, stone killed killer being built upon hearsay and other peoples’ expectations on what he SHOULD be like. She’d known he was different right from the start; the moment she’d stepped foot into that shack in the outback and actually engaged laid eyes on him and engaged with him. She’d gone into that meeting with that reputation and all the gossip and stories fresh in her mind; preconceived thoughts and opinions that had initially clouded her judgment. She’d been surprised -pleasantly- to discover he wasn’t what other peoples’ running mouths had put into her mind. Much younger than expected. Far more attractive. With those blue eyes that held so many regrets and so much pain. Guilt. Even. So troubled and haunted; a man with deep, buried trauma and secrets. And she’d been the fortunate one; who’d gotten him to open up and let his guard down. Who’d helped him learn to trust -and more importantly, to love- again.

This is the old Tyler. The one standing in front of her now. The one that’s focused on the job and everything that comes with it. His personality is different; closed off, irritable, unapproachable. Yet she knows how to deal with it. With HIM. She’s walked on the particular batch of thin ice before; learning how to take the extra ‘edginess’ that creeps into his voice, the up and down moods that encompass everything pure and utter calm to volatile rage. She’s the one person who can engage with him during those moments. Confident that he’d never do or say anything to intentionally hurt her. It’s the nature of the beast. That bad that comes with such an unpredictable and dangerous existence.

“Is it okay to come in?” she asks. And when he looks up and glances towards her, she notices how his features momentarily soften; the creases on his brow disappearing, eyes lightening, a small smile curving his lips.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re just so into it. I didn’t want to bother you. Or get in the way.”

“Babe, you could never bother me. You know that.”

His words -and the obvious change in tone and demeanour- help quell her own anxiety and frayed nerves. It’s been a hell of a forty eight hours. The last half being especially stressful; ews of more threats and the upcoming arrival of Saju’s brother (who’d insisted that the only safe way to speak was to do so face to face) and both Nathan and Koen planning on coming to temporarily bunk with Ovi in the guest house. It’s just too much, too soon. And trying to fake ‘normalcy’ for the sake of children is not an easy thing; exhausting both physically and mentally.

“I come bearing gifts,” she says as she walks through the garage, the cement floor cool against the bottom of her feet. In one hand she holds a plate of food; filled to the edges with reheated leftovers from last night, in the other a bottle of water. “You haven’t eaten much since yesterday and I know how you get when you don’t fuel up properly. Where do you think Millie gets her ‘hangriness’ from?”

“That’s all you.”

“Please. You get so bitchy and ragey. And I don’t want to put up with that, so…” she offers him the plate. “...eat. Please. You can’t run on an empty tank.”

“You worry too much.”

“So? I worry. It’s what I do. You think you’d be used to it by now. Humour me, okay? I’m trying to take care of you here. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re not. But you ARE my husband and I love you and I just want to baby you sometimes. So swallow some of that pride and toxic masculinity and let me do it. Stop being so difficult, Tyler James.”

He smirks at her use of his full name. “You’re stubborn.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever known. And I’ve known a lot of stubborn people. I’m trying to take care of you. It’s who I am. Do you want to make me cry?”

“Never.”

“Then shut the fuck up and eat something.”

“You know what..” a slow grin spreads across his face. “...you’re a pain in my ass.”

“It’s a very nice ass, though.” she praises, and he lays a hand on the small of her back and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah? Well yours isn’t half bad either,” he says, his hand sliding down to tightly grip one of the cheeks through the fabric of her shorts; pinching lightly as he kisses her. Long and slow and soft; her body rising up onto her tip toes and then leaning into his. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want you to ever say I don’t do nice things for you,” she teases. “I swear if I hear one negative out of you…”

“I’ll be nice,” Tyler promises, and then takes the plate of food from her. “You do spoil me. I’ll give you that. You good?”

“I’ve had better days,” she admits. “I’m a little...on edge. This is all happening so fast and it feels like I can’t even catch my breath. And then I see you in here doing this…” she nods in the direction of the table filled with weapons and plastic containers packed with various supplies scattered about. “...I didn’t think this would all happen so soon. It’s a little...overwhelming.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t have to.”

“I know. I’m not blaming you at all. It’s a messed up situation all around. And I know you’re just trying to protect us and I love you so much for that. I do. It just hurts. Watching you like this. Seeing the Old Tyler come back.”

He gives a nod in response, both brows arched.

“Not that I don’t love that Tyler because that’s the Tyler I fell in love with in the first place. It’s just scary. Thinking of you getting back into things.”

“You’re worried that new Tyler won’t come back.”

“A little, I guess. It’s okay with them both hanging around. But I don’t I’m ready to deal with just the old one. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But it’s how I feel.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures her, as his hands move to her side and he places a kiss on her temple. “He’ll come back. I promise.”

“Let’s just concentrate on what’s right in front of us,” she suggests, attempting to be more cheerful. “We have our weekend coming up and then Millie’s birthday. Normal stuff. I need that right now. Normal. Our version of normal, at least.”

Tyler nods in agreement; kissing her once more before giving her ass a final squeeze and a light tap before carrying the plate of food to the work table across the room and perching himself on the edge. He watches her as he eats. The way she slowly circles the table, eyes thoroughly scanning the various weapons; some cleaned and complete, others still in pieces. Old habits die hard, no matter how many times you attempt to kill them off. This had been very much her life as well; time in the corps, time on the job. Their skill sets vastly different; her the brains behind a mission, him the brawn. But it’s still ingrained in both of them. And it fills him with both a sense of pride and sadness. Proud how strong and intelligent and resilient she is; knowing what she’s capable of and all the people she’s helped rid the world of and the lives she’s had a hand in saving. But also disheartened that she even HAS to revisit her former existence. She’d been more than willing to give it up, content in her decision to be a wife and a mother and concentrating solely on those things. And now her old self is making an appearance and he absolutely hates that for her. That she even has to think about anything job related, never mind the threats that have been made towards not only them, but their children.

“I don’t know who the guy is that gave you these things, but he is no rookie,” Esme comments. “It’s quantity AND quality. I don’t know I want to know how much you shelled out for all of this.”

“He owed me. A huge debt I could have collected on over the years but never did. So this is how he paid up.”

“Someone you were supposed to kill?”

“Something like that. People wanted him to suffer. Thought it made more sense to keep him in one piece.”

“Good call. He’s obviously a guy you want on your team. There’s more where these came from?”

“If I need more I just have to ask. That’ll cost me though.”

“How much?”

Tyler shrugs. “Haven’t discussed stuff like that yet. I thought you wanted normal. Because this...you...not normal.”

“This used to be. Normal,” she reasons. “The normal me.”

“It doesn’t have to be anymore.”

“It’s just kind of hard not to fall back into old habits. I figured as soon as you decided to get into it..to start a business...some of it might come back.”

“It doesn’t have to come back for you,” he points out.

“We’re a team, remember? Partners. Not just in marriage and being parents. In everything.”

Her fingertips skim over the barrel of an automatic rifle and he sees the look in her eyes; one he’s recognized some days when he glances in the mirror. The look of someone who has seen too much. Things a regular person can’t even begin to comprehend.

“What you take on, I take on.” she says.

“It doesn’t have to be that away.”

“It SHOULD be that way,” she argues, then sighs heavily and yanks her hand away from the gun, as if it’s dangerously hot to the touch and has scalded her skin. “Is it okay?” she asks, and then forces herself away from the table, nervously wringing her hands together. “The food?”

“It’s perfect. Didn’t realize I was this hungry. Thank you. You’re a good little wife.”

She sidles up next to him, placing the bottle on the table and leaning stomach first against the edge. “I try. That’s what matters right?”

“Baby, you do more than try. You get shit done.”

She gives a small smile, “You think they’ll be okay?” she asks, as her fingers absentmindedly pick at the label on the bottle of water. “The kids? While we’re gone?”

“We’ll only be gone three days.”

“It only takes a second for things to go to shit.”

“It’s not like we’re leaving them alone to fend for themselves. Ovi will be here. Nathan, Koen. The neighbor and her people have their eyes and ears on things. They’re in good hands. I’d be the first to say you’re not going if I thought otherwise.”

“It’s the first time leaving Addie for even an hour,” Esme frets. “I didn’t think I’d be this nervous about it. It’s not like she’s my first.”

“You’re a mom. Moms worry about their babies. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first or the last. It’ll be okay. THEY’LL be okay. We’ve got good people taking care of them. I wouldn’t leave them with just anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You don’t even like leaving me with just anyone and I’m an adult.”

“And we need this. Some time away. Just us.”

Esme nods in agreement. “You realize we haven’t been anywhere together...without kids...in seven years?”

“We were in Dhaka,” he teases.

“Dhaka does NOT count. We didn’t even really know each other then. And no, Tyler. Knowing someone’s favourite sexual position and where their G spot is does NOT count as knowing them. Regardless of what you think.”

“We went away for the weekend after we got married,” he reminds her. “To Byron Bay.”

“I was pregnant with Millie so technically we weren’t alone.”

“Still acted like honeymooners though.” he grins. “Even with a baby in you.”

“We still act that way,” she laughs. “And it’s been six and a half years since we got married.”

“Six and a half? Feels like sixty,” he chides.

She frowns.

“I’m teasing,” he says, and leans in to kiss her. “That's a good thing though, yeah? That we still want to fuck each other as bad as we do?”

“It’s flattering. I mean, I’m not exactly the same person I was when we first met. I definitely don't look the same.”

“Neither do I.”

“But you just get better with age,” she laments. “I just get worse and worse every day. I’ve just become more of a mes. And not a hot one either.”

“Stop. Stop talking like that. I fucking hate when you do that. I wish you could just see yourself the way I see you; if you just saw yourself for one second through my eyes. And maybe you’re right. Maybe it does make me biased because I think you’re the most beautiful woman on earth. Because I think you’re cute and sexy and everything and anything in between. But it doesn't make it less true. I wish you’d stop tearing yourself down like that. Because it fucking kills me inside and I don’t know what more I can do or say to make you see yourself like I do.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admits, her voice trembling, eyes welling with tears. “I just haven’t been ‘right’ in what seems like forever. Since before Addie was born. Maybe even before Declan. I thought maybe it was just postpartum and that it wouldn’t go away on its own. But now I realize it’s been there and it’s getting worse and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop talking like that.”

“But there is though.” Esme insists. “There’s something wrong. I don’t know what is; I just know it’s there. It’s always been there. Just sometimes it doesn’t bother me and other days it does but I just cope with it and deal. I don’t know what it is or how to stop it and just feels like it’s choking me and it’s trying to take over. And I don’t want it to take over.”

Placing the nearly empty plate of food beside him, he reaches out and lays a hand on the back of her head. Drawing her into him; spreading his thighs as she stands between them, her head coming to rest on his chest. He doesn’t know what to say. If she even wants him to say anything. So he opts for silence. One hand still on her head, the other on the small of her back; securely holding her place, feeling the way her hands tightly grip the back of his shirt.

“And it’s not you,” she speaks through tears. “I know you’re thinking it is. That it’s you and it’s getting back onto the job and all the stuff with Mahajan and the neighbour and all of that.”

“It doesn’t help.”

“But it’s not that. And it’s not you. You’re the only thing that feels right and makes sense any more. It’s like there’s something or someone sitting on my chest and squeezing my heart and it just keeps getting tighter and tighter and I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m drowning and I can’t save myself. Or maybe I just want to save myself. Maybe I just want to take over and then I don’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“Don’t talk like that.” It’s a plea; raw and emotional. Torn apart inside by hearing those words come out of her mouth; feeling the tears that soak straight through his shirt.

He’s been there. That deep, dark place that threatens to swallow you whole. You know you should be fighting like hell to scratch and crawl your way out of it, yet it seems so much easier to give in and let it take you. It’s tiring: physically and emotionally. All you want is relief. Even if it is permanent. But to hear her talk that? The one person who’d crawled into that dark place with him and helped him out of it? It’s a pain like he’s ever felt before.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she says. “I can’t battle my own mind like this. I’m tired.”

“I know you are.”

“And I can’t be a good wife and a good mother like this. I know I can’t. And you’d better off and they’d be better off it…”

“Don’t,” Tyler orders. “Just don’t. Don’t even say what I know is coming next. Because it’s not true. It’s never going to be true. I need you. And our kids need you. So don’t ever think otherwise.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t stop it. One day I feel fine and the next I feel like this.”

“There’s a lot going on,” he attempts to reason. And none of it is good and it’s making everything else seem a lot worse. We’re dealing with a lot of shit and…”

“And now I’m moaning and crying to you and you have enough to deal with. You don’t need me being a whiny little baby on top of it. You've got enough on your plate. You don’t need this crap too.”

“Didn’t you just say ten minutes ago that we’re a team? That we’re in this together?”

“I didn’t mean this. I meant what you’re dealing with. Not my stupid shit.”

“It’s not stupid shit,” Tyler argues. “It’s very real and very scary shit.”

“But it’s MY shit.”

“It’s OUR shit. You’re more important than any of this other crap. You’re all that matters. You and the kids. Everything else can wait until we figure out what to do for you. You don’t make me deal with all my mental crap alone. Why would I make you do it by yourself?”

“I don’t know why I feel this way. I shouldn’t. I have a great life. I have you and I have beautiful, healthy children and I’m in this amazing country and everything should be perfect. I should be happy. And I AM. It’s not about you or the kids…”

“I know it isn’t. You don’t have to explain any of this to me. I’ve been there, remember? I’ve been in this place. Many times. And you’re the one that always gets me out of it.”

“But what if I can’t get out of it? What if it’s too late?”

“It’s never too late,” he assures her.

“And what if I don’t want to get out of it? What then?”

“That’s just your brain talking shit. That’s not you talking. You’re the last person who would just give up. Just take a breath and try and relax. Don’t think about a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

She sniffles. “That’s pretty deep, Tyler.”

“I have my moments.”

“I’m sorry.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “For what?”

“Being like this. For being fucked up. This is NOT what you need right now. You have so many other things to worry about and I’m just making it all worse.”

“You’re the only thing that matters to me. You should know that by now. Everything else can wait.”

“Maybe we do need to go away.”

“That’s not a maybe. That’s a definite yes.”

“It just hurts,” she admits. “But I don’t know what hurts. Or how to stop it from hurting.”

“Are you taking your meds?”

“That’s a turn of events,” she gives a small laugh. “You asking me that.”

“Are you? Taking them?”

She nods.

“You promise.”

“Every day, same time of the day. Maybe they’re not strong enough.”

“Maybe you need to call the doctor. Or the therapist.”

“She’ll want us both to go in. And I know you hate going there. And it will just make you miserable.”

“But if that’s what would make YOU feel better…”

“I don’t need to go see her. I’ll be fine. It’ll go away. It always does.”

“And it always comes back,” Tyler points out.

“Maybe I just need those three days away. Maybe I need that time alone with you. God, that makes me sound like a horrible mother. Like I can’t stand my own kids and I can’t wait to be away from them. Like…”

“You know what?” He takes his face in his hands. “Stop. Everyone needs to get away. Even from their own kids. We have five under six. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

“I appreciate you stroking my ego and trying to make me feel better. I do. But…”

“Just stop,” He presses a kiss to her lips. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve got a shit on your plate. That I put there.”

“Okay, YOU stop now. This isn’t about you, Tyler. This is me and my fucked up brain and…”

“And we’re going to deal with it. You think just any woman could deal with what you do? Not just five kids but everything else that you’ve got going on? Me and my bullshit? The job? Mahajan and all the Dhaka crap you’ve just still going up there? You think just any woman could put up with all that?”

She swallows noisily. “I guess not.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. That I’ve ever known. I love you and I need you and I don’t ever want to hear you say I don’t. That I’d be better without you. You know where I’d be without? Dead. That’s a maybe. And I’m not just talking about what happened on the bridge. That was the start of it. There’s been tons of times since then that you’ve kept me going. So I don’t want to hear that shit come out of your mouth ever again. Understand me?”

Esme nods.

“Regardless of what your brain tells you. I need you here. My life is better because you’re in it. I wouldn’t even have a life if it wasn’t for you. In more ways than one.”

Her smile is brighter now, her grip on his shirt loosening. “You really are getting sappy in your old age.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just love you and I don't want to do this life without you.”

“I love you,” she says. “You have no idea how much.”

“It’s fun to guess.”

“I don’t think you can count that high. It’s tough for a guy who has to drop his pants to count to twenty one. Good thing you never lost a finger or a toe.”

Tyler grins. “Smart ass.”

“I do love you. Maybe I loved you too soon. But it felt right and it felt perfect and I don’t regret it. Not for a single second.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips; thumbs clearing away the few remaining tears. “It’s going to be okay, baby. You’re going to be okay.”

“You know what would make me feel better?”

“If I went down on you?” he chides.

“Well yeah, that’s an obvious answer. But maybe that can wait until later. It would make me feel better if we could get out of here for a little bit. Just go into town for a while. Just us. I can get Ovi to watch Declan and Addie and we can just do whatever.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I gotta pick up something anyway.”

“What kind of something?”

“Something that’s none of your business. A surprise.”

“For me?”

“Maybe…”

“How will it be a surprise if I’m with you?”

“Stop giving me a hard time. I’ll distract you with ice cream.”

“Now THAT’S a good idea. Do you think you can spare some time? I know you’ve got a lot going on and…”

“I’ve got all the time in the world for you. I’ll just finish up here and lock everything up. It’s nothing I can’t do later.”

“AFTER you go down on me,” she teases.

“I promise I will do that first.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I’m going to freshen up. I probably look like shit.”

“You’re beautiful,” he informs her. “Even when you cry.”

“You really are the most biased husband on earth. I won’t hold it against you though.” She places her hands on his shoulders and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I won’t be long.”

“Maybe you can find a pair of jean shorts and a yellow tank top,” he says, as she heads for the door.

She pauses on the threshold. “I was going to save those for our first day away. So I can be wearing those in the shack and you can be having serious deja vu.”

“And getting a serious hard on.”

“I don’t think Koen would appreciate you living out your kitchen table fantasy.”

“He doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

She grins. “I like the way you think. No wonder I married you. Smartest and best decision ever.”

“I knew your ex, remember? You definitely traded up.”

“I definitely did,” she agrees.

He sighs heavily as he watches her go. Never remembering a time he’d felt this helpless.

****

He’d forgotten how nice it is when it’s just the two of them. Even something as simple as holding hands while wandering through the downtown core or leisurely browsing in stores and window shopping at others; sitting on a bench and ice cream while chatting and people watching. Little moments that so many take for granted and that he’d never realized he’d missed so much. Aside from a three day honeymoon (if it could even be called a honeymoon) in Byron Bay, the only time they’ve ever been truly alone was in Ireland after she’d arrived to help out with the Michael McMann fiasco. There’d been no kids to interrupt them and they could actually eat their meals together and have conversations where they could actually listen to what the other was saying; give one another their unwavering attention and concentrating on each other for change. He’d missed his kids, naturally. Terribly. But there’d been something...special...about that alone time with her.

For six years they’ve put all their excess time and energy into raising a family. To the point they’d almost forgotten about what it was like to exist outside of that. Only a year before they’d been strangers getting to know one another in Dhaka; in the most carnal way possible. Shortly after, everything had gone to complete and utter shit and he’d woken in a hospital bed with tubes and wires coming out of what seemed like every inch of his body and he’d been so relieved to see her sitting there. As if his brain had desperately wanted her to be there when it woke, and was terrified she wouldn’t be. And then they’d found out she was pregnant with Millie and they were suddenly living together and struggling to learn how to co-exist as a couple and expectant parents. It hadn’t been easy. There had even been times he’d wondered just what the hell he’d gotten himself into it. There was no way he was capable of being a husband and a father; carrying too much baggage and far too damaged for her to actually tolerate for too long.

Five kids later and she’s still hanging in there. Putting up with him even on his worst days and always looking at him like he’s the most incredible man on the entire planet. Always trusted; always feeling safe and secure and confident in his ability -and willingness- to protect her. And he’s not sure what he must have done in a precious life to deserve her, but he knows it must have been pretty damn good.

“Do I get to see what’s in there?” Tyler asks, when she emerges from one of the women’s shops with a paper bag -complete with ribbon around the handles and pink and purple tissue paper sticking out the top- clutched her chest.

“Nope. I told you. I was buying something for when we went away.” She’s back to her normal self, or at a semblance of it. The colour back in her face and the sparkle returned to her eyes. And as much as she’d hate to hear him say it, she looks cute. With her hair in a simple ponytail and just the slightest touch of eyeliner and mascara making those huge eyes stand out even more. Clad in a simple cotton sundress dotted with black with yellow, pink and blue flowers.

“For me?”

She nods. “For me but for you at the same time. It’s a surprise.”

“A sexy surprise or…”

“I’m not telling you. Will you tell me what’s in yours?” she nods at the purchase he carries; a much smaller bag from the jewellry store three doors down.

“It’s not from me. It’s from the kids. They want to give it to you.”

“It’s from you. Don’t lie. Why do you want me to think it’s from the kids?”

“Because I don’t want you calling me cute or soft or romantic or any of that shit.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Is it cute and romantic?”

“Esme…”

She grins. “Tyler…”

“You give me a hint and I’ll give you one. Deal?”

“Fine. It’s two pieces.”

“What color is it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions. You said I just had to give you a hint. I gave you one. Now you get to wonder what it is for the next three days. What’s my hint?”

“It’s something you wear.”

“That’s a shitty hint!”

“It’s something sparkly that you wear.”

“Where do I wear it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions either. There’s two things, actually. One is from me, the other IS from the kids.”

“Two surprises? My birthday isn’t for two months. And it’s past Valentines Day and not even close to our anniversary. So you’ve either done something really bad or about to do something really bad and want to try and soften the blow.”

“Or...maybe…” he lays a hand on her hip and pulls her into him. “...I just wanted to do something nice for you. Maybe I thought you deserve nice things and I don’t always come through with them.”

“I don’t need ‘things’. You know that.” She’s never been a materialistic person; agreeing to marry him without even an engagement ring and not once, in six and a half years, ever mentioning the desire to have one. She’s simple and low maintenance; happy with just that rose gold wedding band and that weathered and frayed bracelet he’d bought off a vendor at the market in Dhaka. Seven years ago.

“I know. But I want you to have things. Don’t argue with me about the things.”

“Well I like the things?”

“I think you’ll love the things.”

Both her arms wrap around his waist, two fingers on one hand hooking around a belt loop on his jeans, and her eyes sparkling as she smiles up at him. “As much as I love you?”

“I don’t know. How much is that?”

“A lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“As much as Millie loves glitter and unicorns. Times a million.”

He grins. “That’s a hell of a lot.”

“You can’t compete with that. You can say you love me more but there’s no way. There’s no way you can love me more than THAT.”

“I love you more than your son likes hot dogs in his spaghetti.”

She laughs, her forehead falling onto his chest. “Okay, you win. Nothing can top your namesake’s love for that. I will never debate you again when you say you love me more.”

“You never stood a chance,” he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then lays a hand on the small of her back.

It’s both loving and protective without being overbearing. The desire to keep her safe is the strongest it’s ever been; eyes constantly surveying the crowd even in their own small town. Anxious to keep her as close as possible even as they walk the familiar sidewalks; pulling her tightly into his side or even bringing her in front of him if he feels someone passes by a little too close. And it’s on one of these occasions, when he draws her into his right hip, that she feels the press of his holster against her.

“Really?” she asks.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

“You really they’d try anything with all these people around? And never mind that, do you really think someone could be watching us right now?”

“Michael McMann was watching me for a week in Guatemala and nearly two in Colorado and we had no idea.”

“But Salena..Allison...said they were keeping an eye on things. That they’d contact us if they heard of any close by threats. It thought these people were still in India.”

“That’s what she said. Who’s to say Mahajan doesn’t have contacts that already live here.”

Esme frowns. “Have you noticed anything weird.”

“Nope.”

She stops walking. “Tyler…”

“Just keep walking okay. Walk in front of me.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Please? Just walk in front of me. I’d feel better if you were in front of me.”

“There’s someone watching us right now isn’t there.”

“I don’t know for sure. So just do me a favour…” he places his hand back on her hip and guides her in front of him, then moves his palm to the back of her neck. “...just walk. Normally. Don’t rush. Just pretend that everything’s fine.”

“Oh God,” she grumbles.

“Just a guy that’s been every place we’ve gone. Seems a little too interested in what we’re doing. Always looking away when I catch him watching us. He’s mostly looking at you so it could be just some fucking asshole checking you out.”

“Why would anyone check a woman out while she’s with her husband? Especially a husband that’s built like you?”

“He’s a pretty big guy.”

“Bigger than you?”

“Not by much.”

“Not by much? You're six three and you weigh two thirty five. That’s big enough!"

“It’s probably nothing. Normally they don’t like to call attention to themselves.”

“Who’s they?”

“Bad people. Usually they’re not that noticeable. He’s just been a little too...I don’t know...around.”

“Maybe he’s checking you out and thinks YOU’RE the hot one,” she teases.

“Stop here. I want to stand with your back against me and pretend you’re taking a selfie but you’re really taking a picture of him. Okay?”

“I haven’t done shit like this in a while,” she frets.

“Just relax and do it. Trust me.”

Sighing heavily -and nervously- she leans with her back pressed against his front and takes his cell phone as he offers it to her. Plastering a fake smile on her face in hopes of not seeming suspicious. The man in question passing by mere seconds later; at least three inches taller than Tyler and maybe twenty pounds heavier. He doesn’t even glance in their direction; not even the slightest bit of side eyes or a glance over his shoulder as he continues down the sidewalk.

“Get it?” Tyler asks.

She nods and turns and tucks his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“Good job, baby,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Good job.”

“Can we go home now?” She’s dangerously close to tears; entire body trembling. “I want to go home now.”

“It’s okay.” he lays a hand on the side of her face. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I just want to go home. Please take me home.”

“Okay,” he says, then kisses her softly before wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her in the direction of the truck. “We don’t have to leave. It was probably nothing. Just me being paranoid.”

“I regret all the times I ever called you that.”

“Three quarters of the time I WAS being paranoid.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“Calm down. Everything’s fine. YOU’RE fine. I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to happen to you when I’m with you. You should know that by now.”

“Let’s just go home. I’ll feel better when I’m home.”

“Alright. I’ll get you home.”

She snakes his arm around his waist and leans into his side; head tucked under his arm. “It’s going to be okay, right? We’re going to be okay?”

“We’re going to be just fine,” he assures her. And hopes he sounds more confident than he feels.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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