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mypoisonedvine · 7 months

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𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | boyfriend's dad!cillian murphy x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | for some reason, your first instinct after the breakup was to talk to his parents; maybe because you'd come sort of uniquely close to them, for a relatively short relationship. you might not have gone to their house if you'd known you'd find mr. murphy there alone...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ ONLY!! unprotected sex, creampie, oral m and f receiving), age gap (reader's age unspecified, cillian is 45+), hurt/comfort (but, you know, sexual comfort), infidelity, slight manipulation/coercion since the reader is very vulnerable at the time, somewhat inexperienced reader, degradation and praise, a little bit of breathplay, hair pulling, slight dacryphilia?, reader is slightly implied to be an immigrant/foreigner

note: yes I use his real name but this is just fiction and not meant to have anything to do with the real cillian murphy or his life/family so please keep that in mind!

He had a smile on his face as he opened the door and greeted you, but it fell instantly when he saw you biting down on your quivering lip, looking down to hide how red and watery your eyes were.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, voice heavy with concern as he reached out and rubbed your shoulder. "Oh, god— come in, come in— what's going on?"

He ushered you into the house, shutting the door behind you and wrapping his arm around you as you sniffled. "I-I'm sorry—" you began instantly. “I thought— I don’t know why I even came here…”

But, actually, you sort of did. You’d been wanting to talk to Cillian’s wife, hoping for some motherly advice, until he answered the door and you abruptly remembered she was in England on business for a week or something. And you couldn’t exactly show up on somebody’s doorstep crying and say ‘oh, sorry, I thought your wife would be home— I’ll come back in a few days’.

You weren’t disappointed by running into him instead, really, you just felt a little weirder about it. The two of you had never actually been alone before.

"Don't apologise," he soothed, "it's okay, just tell me what's happened. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you sighed, trying to compose yourself a bit as he guided you to sit on the couch with him. "Yeah, I'm okay, I just... um, well, it's sort of stupid—"

"I'm sure it's not," he offered with a small laugh, "if it's got you this worked up."

"We, um... I think we broke up?"

"What?" he breathed, knitting his eyebrows together— he cared more than you expected... but it sort of made sense, Mr. Murphy had always made you feel welcome here. Mrs. Murphy too, maybe ina different way. Yes, it's bizarre to respond to being dumped by going to visit the guy's parents, you needed a sort of... mature, familial presence right now while you were so far from your own.

You took him through the whole drama as efficiently as possible, trying to regulate your crying so he could actually attempt to make out what you were saying. He listened thoughtfully, perhaps with too much attention compared to what you expected— after all, this was stupid college drama and he was so much more mature than all that. Still, you appreciated a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.

"And, uh, that's how he ended it," you finished with a sigh, sniffling as you recalled the heartbreaking conversation. "He basically told me that he's too young to be stuck with one person, and he needs to 'explore his options'..."

"Then he's an idiot," Cillian groaned, "and I hate to say that about my own son— but he's a fuckin' idiot."

"Well," you mumbled, "I don't know— I thought maybe he had a point. I mean, we're pretty young..."

"But look at you, honey," he offered pityingly, "you can't tell me this is what you wanted."

"No, but—"

"And yes, you're young," he added, "but not too young— not if it's real."

You bit your lip to stop it from shaking any more, and he cooed at you gently as he reached up to rub your shoulder.

“Poor girl,” he breathed. “Honestly, I always… well, maybe I shouldn’t say it now…”

You looked up at him expectantly, and he smiled nervously as he glanced away.

“Well… I guess I always thought that you could do better,” he admitted with a soft laugh, “but, you know, I didn’t want to say anything, of course. He was lucky to have you, and I just hoped he would treat you right, but…”

“I thought I was the lucky one,” you replied with a thin smile and another little sniffle. “He could be really sweet, you know— he used to be. And I always thought he was, uh, sort of… you know, out of my league.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Cillian frowned, moving his hand up to your face and holding your cheek, wiping a small tear away with his thumb. “You’re gorgeous.”

You laughed awkwardly, not sure what to think— or how to think— with him looking at you like that. “I… I don’t know, you’re sweet, but—”

“No, really,” he assured, and only when you met his gaze did you realise how close he was. You wouldn’t call it too close, only because it didn’t bother you like you knew it should. “You’re so beautiful.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing actually came out… there was nothing to say. He was coming closer, you knew it, and you wanted to reach up to stop him just as much as you wanted to shut your eyes and give into it. You ended up sort of splitting the difference: you rested your hands on his shoulders, but didn’t push him away, and gasped slightly just before he kissed you. Even a second of resistance could’ve given you some plausible deniability, but no, you fluttered your eyes shut and kissed him back; it didn’t help that you could feel how warm and strong he was through the t-shirt, holding on tighter to his shoulders with a hum.

His hands wandered to your waist, pulling you into him— and you were like putty, embarrassingly enough. With him kissing you like that, you really couldn’t do anything but let him pull you around wherever he wanted. His lips were soft and gentle, his tongue teased you so carefully, and he even sighed against your skin in the sweetest way… you were totally helpless already.

Sure, some part of you knew how fucking bizarre this was— that you were kissing Mr. Murphy, your boyfriend’s dad— well… ex-boyfriend’s. You weren’t blind, you noticed how attractive he was when you met him, but you’d managed to successfully ignore it since then. It made sense, after all, since the first thing you’d noticed about your boyfriend was his good looks… but Mr. Murphy was handsome in a totally different way. Strong and broad— not especially massive or anything, still a lean guy— with thin streaks of grey in his hair, a patient sort of smile, subtle wrinkles around his eyes that added a sense of wisdom to his expression… really, he was a bit more of your type. But that was something you had forced yourself not to acknowledge— until now.

You sat up slightly, holding onto his neck, breathing in sharply through your nose as you kissed him back a little harder. You could feel him smiling— god, even just that made you feel so desperate— and he even moaned ever-so-quietly when you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed against your lips, breaking away just enough to make you open your eyes— his lashes seemed especially long as he looked down at your legs curled up on the couch (and his hands petting them slowly. “You haven’t been treated properly for a long time, have you?”

You whined in the back of your throat involuntarily as you nodded— how could he see right through you like that? It wasn’t like it was bad with your ex, it was just… not good. Not enough. You wanted to feel wanted, not used— not a means to an end.

“Will you let me?” he asked softly, breathing beside your ear on his way in to kiss your neck. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close, head falling back to give him as much of you as he wanted. His tongue was fucking fiendish, the way he used it to tickle along your pulse, the sharpness of his teeth making you jolt only for him to soothe you with his plush lips.

“Yes,” you panted, “fuck— I, god, I can’t believe we’re doing this…”

He laughed a little. “I can,” he admitted. “All I could fucking think about since I met you…”

That surprised you— you’d never noticed anything that would’ve made you think he thought of you that way… but knowing that he, apparently, had made a shiver run up your spine.

He certainly hid it well, playing the part of the slightly-embarrassing dad and polite husband so well that you never would’ve known… oh god, his wife. You didn’t want to think of her now, yet the unavoidable memory stirred arousal alongside guilt in your gut. You had no idea you were this sort of person— but you weren’t really operating logically right now, anyway.

He held your face again as he pulled back, petting your cheek— it made you feel especially juvenile when he did that, holding your chin to examine you. This wasn’t really the ideal state for you to be looked at, in your opinion, with you having been crying all evening. But he looked amazed by you, even if it was just for a moment before he looked down at your body and smirked.

“Take this off,” he instructed, tugging at your shirt slightly. You thought it would’ve been a little more romantic if he helped you out of it, but it was alternatively a bit sexier that he was just going to sit back and watch you strip for him. It must have been his way of demonstrating his power over you, that you were just going to take it off and toss it aside without question. Which, of course, you did.

He smiled proudly at the sight, and before you could even get your bra off, he started to carefully tease you through it— fingers running around the edge, moving the straps off your shoulders, tickling up your sides as you shifted nervously on the couch.

“Look’t that,” he whispered proudly, and you took a second to realise that he was referring to your nipples getting hard enough to poke visibly through the fabric; you felt self-conscious all of a sudden, even if he was clearly enjoying what he was seeing. “So needy, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you admitted, whining when he reached inside the cups and ran his fingers over your breasts— they usually weren’t so sensitive. “Fuck,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as a way to try to escape his gaze. “I… I need you.”

“Fuck, baby, don’t talk like that,” he groaned, “m’gonna try to take my time with you— how am I supposed to do that if you say such lovely things?”

His lips were on your neck again— and he was leaning you back, laying you down under him, tugging your shorts down with a bit more urgency than he’d had before.

When you were basically naked— or at least, your bra and panties pushed out of the way enough that he could see what he needed to— he purred at the sight, grinning as you hastily undressed yourself the rest of the way.

"Of course he couldn't appreciate this," Cillian sighed, baring his teeth just a bit. "Of course he couldn't appreciate a perfect fucking body like this— a perfect little pussy like this..."

You were about to open your mouth to say something, though you hadn't even decided yet what it would be, but only a low moan came out when he held your legs open and dove between them, humming as he lapped at your clit. You couldn't imagine why you were so sensitive, but your whole body was shaking already just from the gentlest motions of his tongue...

"Fuck," he said, muffled against your skin, before he pulled back enough to bite playfully on your thigh. "Fuck, darling, you taste delicious. Christ. You're too perfect..."

He devoured you again, exploring all over you with his tongue as your thighs kept instinctively clamping down on his head. He kept looking up at you through it all, even when you couldn't stand to meet his gaze and had to arch your back from the pleasure. "Fuck!" you yelped, grabbing tightly onto his hair. "Fuck, Mr. Murphy, I— oh, god..."

"He never made you come like this, did he?" Cillian realised with a groan, nearly growling when you shook your head. "Has anyone?"

"N-no," you shakily admitted, and he moaned around you as he suckled harder on your clit for a moment until you whined loudly.

"Oh, poor thing," he cooed, "how could anyone taste this sweet cunt of yours, and not want to spend hours between your legs?"

He didn’t need to spend hours, though— the taboo nature of the situation seemed to turn your body into overdrive, making you so sensitive and desperate… or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, but it was hard to say.

The point is, all too soon, you were shivering under him, back arching up off the couch, holding on tightly to his hair. He hummed approvingly, even moaning against you as he slid his tongue inside; he must have been able to feel you pulsing, moving closer and closer to the edge, because he shut his eyes tight and seemed to focus harder and pushing you further until you couldn’t take anymore.

“Fuck, fuck!” you sobbed, thighs shaking around his head; there really was no exploration to it, no teasing, he just went right in and expertly played you like he’d done this a thousand times. Maybe he had… but, obviously, he’d never done it to you. Were you that easy to solve?

Obviously, that question suddenly became the last thing on your mind as your orgasm wracked through you. He growled encouragingly, still keeping his pace, but you could barely hear it past the ringing in your ears— and your own cries of his name, of course.

He only broke away when your squirms turned into real avoidance: you could only take so much, especially with him suckling on your clit like that.

You were almost nervous to open your eyes again— and you were right, he looked so gorgeous between your legs, obviously smug with having just made you come, it was nearly criminal.

“Is it really that easy to make you come, honey?” he laughed, petting your legs sweetly as he pulled back, looking up at you with a proud grin. “That’s so fucking cute, baby…”

As he sat up again, wiping the slick off his mouth with the back of his hand, you got this weird, clingy feeling— wanting to chase him even just as he barely moved away.

But he’d sat up for a reason, and you started to realise it when you sat up, too, and noticed the thick bulge in his jeans.

"Why don't you show me what you can do, sweetheart?" he encouraged with a smile, opening his belt for you. "I'm sure you've learned a thing or two..."

Though you still felt terribly nervous about it, you leaned forward towards his lap. Would it be awful to admit your mouth watered when he freed his cock from his jeans and boxers, holding it out for you as a little bead of precum formed at the tip?

"Show me, baby," he whispered again, "and look up at me."

You nervously blinked up at him, meeting his gaze from his lap, as you wrapped your lips around his swollen head. He bit his lip right away and reached up to hold onto your hair, groaning as you swirled your tongue.

"Fuck," he smirked, "you're sort of a tease, aren't you?"

You weren't trying to be, really, but it didn't sound like he minded too much...

"Oh, fuck," he moaned deeply, making you pulse inside as he tilted his head back. "Fuck, baby, that's good— your mouth is so fucking warm..."

He gasped and panted as he held your head, guiding it to bob just a little faster than you had been moving. "Sweetheart," he choked, "you're so fucking good... fuck!"

The praise made your chest fill with warmth, even if there was still some part of your brain that was recovered enough from the orgasm to remember how horrible this all was. It was horrible, but perfect— and feeling his cock throb against your tongue was perfect, too.

You’d never been told you were so good at this before, but he kept moaning and petting your head encouragingly, whispering the most wonderful and filthy things. “Just like that, honey,” he cooed, “mm— pretty thing… knew that mouth of yours would feel so fuckin’ good… just keep sucking my cock, sweetheart.”

That you did— harder and faster, stroking what your mouth couldn’t fit, moaning softly around him. As you tried to take it deeper, desperate to please him, you gagged on his thick head.

“God, it’s so cute when you choke on it, baby,” he chuckled. “Do it again.”

This time it was almost too much, but he held your head down and groaned deeply. It would’ve bothered you more— not being able to breathe— if he didn’t sound so sexy right then…

Thankfully, he pulled you off just in time, making you yelp as he held you by your hair— only to kiss you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Moaning, you melted into his arms, and let him guide you to straddle his lap. Feeling his jeans against your thighs and his shirt against your chest made your heart skip.

He took another long look at you when he broke away, a new darkness in his bright eyes.

“You’re so sexy,” he laughed softly, running his hands over your nude form and raising a brow as he watched goosebumps break out over your skin. “God, I need to be inside you…”

You bit down on your lip but it didn’t do much to suppress your whimper; lifting yourself up a bit, you grasped his cock and slid it through your folds, guiding him to your entrance.

You both gasped when he slipped inside, even when it was the slightest penetration— his whole head wasn’t in yet, and you just knew it would stretch you more than you were used to.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned loudly, tilting his head back, “you’re so wet, sweetheart…”

Lowering yourself, you took in a shaky breath, whining slightly as he opened you up one inch at a time... and each one seemed somehow thicker than the last. His fingers seemed to dig deeper into the skin at your hips and ass the lower that you sank onto him.

You could barely believe that you took it all; that you relaxed into his lap fully even when you feared being split in half by how thick he was. “Oh my god,” you blurted out, operating on instinct as you started to move— grinding back and forth, desperate for friction despite having been satisfied by his incredible mouth just a few minutes ago.

"Fuck, there you go," he encouraged with a growl, looking down at your hips rocking in his lap. "Ride me, just like that— fuck, ride my cock, little fuckin' whore..."

You whimpered at the insult, holding tighter onto his shoulders, but it only made you move faster. "S-so... so deep, Mr. Murphy," you whimpered.

"Yeah? You can take it," he promised darkly, holding tighter onto your waist as he dropped his head back with a low groan. "God, you're tight— fuck."

You gasped as he bucked his hips up, creating more pressure against your over-sensitive clit. "Oh, fuck," you breathed, struggling to cope with all the sensations he was giving you.

Both of you settled on the right pace, and he switched between resting his head back against the couch (giving you a nice view of his gorgeous neck, how could just a neck be so sexy?!) and looking down to watch you go. “So fuckin’ cute,” he praised— though you were sort of surprised to hear him describe you that way at a time like this. “So needy, honey… you want more, don’t you? You wanna go even faster.”

Now that he said it: yeah, you did. You bounced up and down, your moans coming out all shaky and uneven because of the movement, and he grinned proudly.

His hands wandered up from your waist to your chest, groping you eagerly as you gasped out his name in response. “Love these tits of yours,” he informed you, sounding oddly sweet for how dirty of a compliment it was. “Took everything in me not to stare at them when you’d come over for dinner… see what you do to me, sweetheart? Haven’t felt this desperate since I was your age.”

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing, reminding you of how much older he was at a time like this. He purred when he felt you clench on him, obviously affected by the comment.

“Should’ve known you’d give in right away,” he went on, softening his voice to nearly a whisper as he watched you move with heavy eyes; you angled your hips back and moaned louder, his cock rubbing against just the right spot every time now. “Hungry little thing like you— now I wish I hadn’t waited so long. We could’ve been doing this the whole time… I could’ve shown you how much better it can be, when somebody really takes care of you.”

Whimpering, you felt another heady pang inside you— if he kept talking like that, you wouldn’t be able to keep your head on straight… then again, the fact that you were here proved that you were less stable than you thought.

“Faster, sweetheart,” he ordered again suddenly. “I wanna see how desperate you can get.”

You furrowed your brows together, almost pouting, but did exactly what he wanted— you wondered if you looked as pathetic as you sounded, riding him recklessly, chasing another peak even when it took all of your strength in those shaking legs.

He grabbed you by the jaw and guided you into another desperate kiss— all teeth and tongue and low moans. “Good fucking girl,” he snarled. “Good little slut.”

“Fuck,” you panted, moving faster. “Fuck, I’m close—”

“I know, honey,” he cooed, nodding as he moved his hand down to your neck. “Show me how bad you need it, sweetheart. Let me see it, I wanna see you come for me.”

Tossing your head back, you cried out his name again— why did you always do that when you came?— and felt it overtake you. It was even heavier than the last one, even more numbing and draining, and you didn’t even notice how hard you were digging your nails into his shoulders.

When your body failed and you came to a shaky stop, he didn’t give you much time to catch your breath: he grabbed you tight, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder, and began to buck his hips up into you quickly.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” you whined, overwhelmed by the feeling, holding onto him tightly just to have something to keep you grounded.

“Fuck, m’gonna come inside you,” he warned with a growl. “Gonna fill you, baby, you’ll be so fuckin’ full of my come—”

You sobbed and buried your face in his neck, starting to cry again for a completely different reason than before.

“Tell me you want it,” he ordered, speaking roughly right against your ear.

“F-fuck, I want it,” you gasped, “I want you to come— fuck— come inside me—”

He choked out a few more swears, he held you tight enough that you started to imagine what his bruises would look like on you tomorrow, and with a low groan of your name, it all suddenly slowed to a stop. You moaned weakly when you felt his cock flexing against your walls, even more heat pooling inside you. With what little energy you had left, you softly kissed his neck— until he seemed to come back to reality and pushed you back enough to be face-to-face with you again.

You realised suddenly that you were still sort of crying from the intensity of it all, and got nervous with him staring at you like that. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled as you wiped your face.

“Don’t apologise,” he told you again, moving your hands away so he could look at you himself. “Besides, you look even cuter when you cry.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #dilf!cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy rpf

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roosterforme · 28 days

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After Bradley finally breaks things off with his girlfriend just days before the start of a deployment, he expects a few lonely months of nobody writing to him or waiting for his return. But the fateful arrival of a package from a class of fourth graders learning about aviation changes everything.

Warnings: Fluff, language, breakup angst

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley had his duffle bag open on his bed, tidy stacks of his uniform components, flight suits, and underwear lined up next to it. He had his checklist in front of him. He liked to be as organized as possible.

"Are you even listening to me? I thought we were going out to dinner."

He looked up from his partially packed toiletry bag into the annoyed eyes of Vanessa where she stood on the other side of the bed. He was seven months into this relationship, and sometimes he wondered why either of them still bothered. She knew his routine by now. She knew what his deployments were like, but she had absolutely no patience for any of it.

"Ness, I'm leaving in four days. I just need to focus on this for a few minutes so I know what I need to buy before Wednesday, and then we can go out and eat."

"It's already seven o'clock. I thought you'd have finished packing by now," she replied with a pout and a glare. "Every nice restaurant is going to have a long wait now, because I'm just going to go ahead and assume that you didn't make a reservation anywhere."

He took a deep breath and let it out before pressing his lips together. What he really wanted was to order something for delivery, cuddle on the couch, watch a movie and have the first round of hot, goodbye sex. But she'd never go for it now. Apparently he'd already fucked up for the night.

"No, I didn't make a reservation," he said calmly, and she rolled her eyes and reached for her phone. "I really don't even feel like going out. I'll be gone for months, stuck in a tiny bunk or a loud mess hall. I'd like to stay in tonight where it's quiet. Just me and you."

But she wasn't listening at all. "Let me see if Woodmere has any tables left," she muttered. "If not there, then I can try The Landmark." She looked as beautiful as she always did, but he couldn't even stand the sight of her right now.

"Ness. I want to stay in."

She groaned and looked him in the eye. "Of course you do. You always want to stay in. You always want to decompress or read a book. That's not healthy, you know that, right? I shouldn't have to force you out of your comfort zone all the time."

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. His job was demanding, both mentally and physically. He usually preferred quiet over loud, because his own thoughts started to buzz when she dragged him out all over the place. And now she was glaring at him again. "Are you even going to miss me?" he asked softly, afraid of the answer. "You haven't said so one time since I told you about this deployment."

She heaved a deep and annoyed sigh. "You're deployed so frequently, Bradley, it's like you're the government's bitch. And if the Navy is going to insist upon eating up taxpayer money, the least they could do is pay you more."

His skin started to crawl as she went off about his career like always, but he'd honestly had enough. He raised his voice louder and asked once again, "Are you even going to miss me?"

Vanessa scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course I'm going to miss you. What kind of question is that? I'll be bored every weekend, waiting for you to get back, like usual. I almost never go out when you're deployed."

Bradley's heart started to pound in a way that made his palms sweat and his stomach turn. "Jesus, Vanessa. I asked if you're going to miss me. Not miss going out every weekend."

When she hesitated for a beat, he reached out to brace his hand on his headboard. "Yes, Bradley. I am going to miss you. Okay? Happy?"

"Fuck, no. I'm not happy Vanessa." And that was the bottom line right there. The absolute truth. And it didn't hurt to say it, rather he immediately felt better. He knew he would miss the sporadic emails and the phone calls and the dirty pictures and the reunion sex. The upcoming weeks would be harder without those things to look forward to, but at least he'd come home to his own place where he could do what he wanted instead of what he was told. He wouldn't have to listen to her negativity. "I think we need to break up."

Her eyes went wide with shock. "Excuse me?"

Bradley let go of the bed and ran his hand over his face. "You heard me, Ness. This isn't working. For either of us."

"Don't call me Ness," she snapped, immediately turning toward his bedroom door. "You're not my boyfriend anymore." She paused briefly, just long enough to say, "Fuck you," and then she was gone.

He sat on the edge of his bed for a couple minutes, but it didn't take long to sort through his feelings. The immediate sense of calm that he felt had him convinced he'd done the right thing. There was no shared living space. There was no ring. There was no real commitment. Maybe he'd always known why that was the case.

So he packed up his bag and made a shopping list, and when his stomach started to growl, he ordered dinner for himself from his favorite restaurant. He didn't cry, and he didn't worry about having to do anything he didn't want to do.

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

The first few weeks of his deployment were great. He spent a lot of time in the air, and he flirted a bit with some of the women who approached him in the gym on the aircraft carrier. He jerked off while he thought about whomever he fucking wanted to. He didn't spend very much time reflecting on his relationship with Vanessa other than to acknowledge that it wasn't much of a relationship at all. In the moments where he thought maybe he missed her, he realized he just missed the idea of having someone who cared about him.

He was about a month in when he realized the attractive woman who always touched his arm in the gym was actually married, and he was not all about that. He was also maybe kind of getting tired of masturbating which was a depressing thought. He was bored, and he was lonely, and other than randomly hooking up with someone, he figured his best bet was finding a book or something to read.

When he made his way to dinner, he heard everyone talking about the helicopter that had landed on deck less than an hour ago stacked full of containers of mail. There was a line of officers trailing down the hallway adjacent to the mess hall, everyone waiting patiently to pick up parcels from their loved ones. Since Bradley had basically nobody who would think to write to him, he made his way toward the food instead.

His tray was piled high with everything he could get his hands on, and when he looked for somewhere to sit, he had to deftly avoid that stacked lieutenant who had a husband at home. He found a table off in the corner and devoured his dinner alone. When he stood to drop off his empty dishes and tray, some petty officers entered the cavernous room to drop off unclaimed mail.

"Harper, Jonathan! Pauley, Vincent! Dixon, Jennifer! Sutter, Wesley! Bradshaw, Bradley!"

He was more than a little intrigued as he made his way up along with a handful of others, and then a white envelope and a small cardboard box were thrust into his hands. The envelope was addressed to him by name in familiar chicken scratch that made him smile. He shouldn't have counted Natasha out, especially when his birthday was in a few days.

He tore into the envelope as he made his way back to his bunk. It contained a very short letter along with a coupon for buy one get one free steak dinners at her favorite restaurant with a post-it stuck to the back.

This is your birthday present. Now when you take me out for my birthday when you get home, you only have to pay half as much. You're welcome.

He snorted as he unlocked his bunk door and tossed everything from Nat onto the small nightstand. And then he examined the box. It wasn't addressed to him. Not really. It was addressed to 'A Deployed US Naval Aviator' in tidy handwriting. Then he noticed the return address was from an elementary school in Mira Mesa, and his curiosity got the best of him.

Bradley sat on the edge of his bed and tore gently into the packaging to find the box was jam packed with items and overflowing with envelopes. He tipped the box, and everything went cascading out onto his narrow bed. There were a lot of snacks, and a pack of trail mix caught his eye, making his stomach growl.

"I just fed you," he muttered but ripped into the snack anyway, dumping half of it into his mouth in one go. He was eyeing the envelopes carefully, each one distinctly unique. Some had names written on them, and some had little doodles or pictures, but they definitely seemed to be from a class of kids who went to the school. He sifted through them until he found a slightly larger, more official looking envelope which once again said To: A Deployed US Naval Aviator.

He finished his snack, silently thanking the class of kids and their teacher, and then he opened the big envelope. He pulled out a typed up letter which was folded around a few photos that slid onto his lap. Then he started to read.

Dear United States Naval Aviator,

First of all, thank you for your service. Second, let us introduce ourselves. We are one of the fourth grade classes from Mira Mesa Elementary School, and we have been learning all about aviation for the last month or so. We have combined our science, math and social studies classes into one unit all about flying, and we have learned so much. We really wanted to share some of what we learned with you in the hopes that you might be able to help us learn even more!

Each student in the class has included a letter filled with information and some questions. If you have some free time and are inclined to do so, we would love to hear back from you. (No pressure!) There are plenty of thoughtful questions that my students would appreciate more information about. (Once again, only if you want to!) And I for one would love to give them the chance to show off what they learned to a professional. (I'm just a proud teacher!)

Thank you very much for indulging our curiosity thus far, and we hope to hear back from you. I'll include my email address just in case you have any questions or would prefer to reply that way. Otherwise you can send mail directly to the address for the school along with my name, and it will get to us. We hope we are about to dazzle you with our letters, and we wish you well on your deployment.

Sincerely,

The best fourth graders you will ever meet along with their teacher

Bradley was chuckling as he finished reading. Of course he would take the time to look at all of the notes from the kids and send back a response. It wasn't like he'd be tied up talking to Vanessa. This little project would keep him busy when he had nothing else to do, and besides, this was the kind of shit he would have thought was outlandishly cool when he was a fourth grader himself.

He read and reread the name and accompanying email address at the bottom of the page. This teacher sounded charming, and he'd only read three paragraphs from her. He flipped the page over to double check that she hadn't written anything more, already wishing she had. Then he picked up the photos that had landed on his thigh and started to flip through them.

First he saw a group of kids outside in the bright San Diego sunlight, lined up and throwing paper airplanes. Then he flipped to one where some of the kids were sitting at their desks building more elaborate planes out of pieces of foam. There was another photo of the class on some sort of field trip, but it was the last photo in the stack that had him sitting up a little taller and taking a closer look.

"Damn."

The kids were all lined up once again, wearing a rainbow of colors, some making silly faces. But his eyes caught on their teacher. On you. Smiling back at him from the photo like you had an amusing secret. Like you wanted to share it with him.

"Fucking gorgeous."

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

And, we're off. Oh, he thinks we are cute. Oh, he is about to be charmed even more. Thanks for pushing me out of my comfort zone a little bit with this one, and thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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hoonvrs · 6 months

Text

CHILD OF DIVORCE — l. heeseung

PAIRING heeseung × fmr

DESC. yours and heeseungs breakup through the eyes of nishimura riki

GENRE angst, 3rd party perspective

WARNING mutual breakup, mention of parental issues, riki has attachment issues, he’s also irrational but aren’t we all

W. COUNT 0.8k

S. NOTES why did i have so much fun writing this

to say riki considered you and heeseung his parents was an understatement.

he boy genuinely believed you were. so it's safe to say that when his heeseung hyung ( read: dad ) came home to their apartment late to their weekly boys' night and dropped the news, he was devastated.

“me and y/n broke up.“

riki could feel his whole world collapse, suddenly feeling ten again when his parents sat him down to tell him that his mum and dad were getting a divorce and dad was going to be moving back to his old city.

in hindsight, he should’ve consoled his hyung who didn’t look like he had just broken it off with his girlfriend of four years and the woman everyone believed he’d marry one day. he should've gone up to him like a good friend and given him a few words of comfort — maybe even a hug.

but instead, he felt anger. it was selfish, but he couldn’t realise his irrationality over the splitting feeling in his chest, and heeseung's reaction — or lack thereof — didn’t help but wedge a nail in the crack and hammer it down.

he couldn’t make out what the rest of their friends were saying, feeling all his senses suddenly muffle, giving his emotions nowhere to go but out, “what do you mean you broke up.”

the room suddenly felt colder. all their friends stopped talking and froze their gazes on him. seeing sunghoon from his peripheral, sending him a questioning look, but his vision tunnelled on the eldest, who was still standing near the entrance. “you can’t just break up, not now.”

confusion settled on the elder's face, overtly not expecting this reaction from him, “what do you mean i can't? it's my relationship, and we both ended it.”

riki was starting to feel antagonised, seeing faces look back and forth between him and the other, so he stood up in an attempt to size himself up, refusing to see the irrationality of his point. he felt like heeseung was being inconsiderate by breaking up something riki relied on without thinking of the others who'd be affected outside of the relationship.

everyone in their friend group was aware of his abnormal attachments, evident in the shirt he refuses to throw away because it was his father's, even if the fabric had more holes than not, or the two sizes too big shoes his sister gifted him, insisting he would ‘grow into them’ and now yours and heeseung's relationship.

healthy relationships weren't the norm in his life growing up, so by default, riki was hostile and withdrawn towards you the first few times heeseung introduced you as his new girlfriend. reminding himself constantly at the back of his mind that all relationships must come to an end and with every problem heeseung brought home, he was convinced it was near.

however, he must have underestimated you. one year became two, then four, and riki had become accustomed to his life with you. finding himself excited every time you’d come over whenever he was around because you had always seemed to favour him slightly, giving him the best meat cuts whenever you’d eat out together, or saving him the corner of the brownie because you knew it was his favourite part.

maybe it was silly to let you grow a home into the hole in his heart that was carved by his mother, seeking maternal comforts from you and allowing you to become a constant in his life.

but then again, all relationships have an end but riki wasn’t ready to let this one go. “so what? that’s it? you’re just going to end it here after everything?”

“look, it was a mutual breakup. we both just don't feel the same as we did before, so we broke it off like adults. i wish her all the best, just not with me.”

the split started to spread throughout his whole body, feeling his knees start to weaken under the weight of his emotions. when he started to feel his throat clog up and his eyes start to burn, he quickly made his escape, pushing past his hyung making sure to knock their shoulder on his way out to show he wasn't happy with the new change.

he could hear them discussing what happened after slamming his bedroom door, the thin walls leaving no word left unheard, drilling each question into his mind.

maybe then he should’ve left and apologised for his outburst, but grief is a funny feeling.

even though the relationship wasn’t his and never was to begin with, riki had gotten too comfortable living vicariously through you, and now he wanted someone to take responsibility for feelings only he could be blamed for.

but that’s another thing about grief. there’s always someone you want to pin the blame on. someone who caused this emotion to spiral and settle at the pit of his stomach without anywhere else to go leaving it to make itself home in his body.

and it wasn’t going to be him.

perm taglist @mesopret @whoschr @haknom @shinsou-rii @redm4ri @lacimolela @llama-lyna @boyfhee @lazysmushi @flwoie @kocokookie @kyexvly @seongclb @dammit-jjk @flwrshee @produmads @teddywonss @aleiouvre @dneltrise @aleiouvre @nyxvrse @yohanabanana @whois-alexis @sngvhs @tinyegg @sserafimez @satsuri3su @yuemvi @chirokookie @idk-tbh777 @s00buwu

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gojonanami · 6 months

Text

BLOODSUCKER - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you had avoided your ex for so long, only to run into him at a halloween party, and he's the same as ever but has his teeth always been that sharp? ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, dub/con, blood kink, gojo has fangs, biting, marking, bloodsucking, fingering (f!receiving), swearing, semi-public sex, sex against a car, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, baby), ✴︎ wc: 2,704

“Can I have a bite?” He whispers, lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, sending a warm flush down your body — and why did he smell so intoxicating?

The night had gone on normally enough — yet another Halloween party you had been dragged to (after you had lost a bet and ended up being the designated driver for the evening) in another coordinated themed costume — this time for the Barbie movie. Yet another throng of costumed drunks and weirdos you had to wade through while your friends had their fun. And you thought the night would be boring.

Oh, you were so wrong.

He saw you first. You were only sure of that, after, because you remembered the prickling of your skin when his ice blue irises had found you lounging in the loft area upstairs — where most people had begun to clear out of after the keg had arrived downstairs. You had let your hair out of your wig, your head aching from the weight of the hair on your head and the cheap elastic band trying to work its way into your forehead.

You unlocked your phone, looking at yourself in your camera, pouting at the state of your hair — unkempt and unruly from the wig, but you only could do what you could.

“Great, now I can be a scary Barbie,” you murmur, locking your phone, as you pocket it.

“Oh, you’re not scary,” and your head snaps up, eyes finding those pools of still blue that looked like you could drown in them — and you very well would. His lips were curled in a small smile, his skin looked pale in the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing you be a little scary,”

“Satoru,” your lips twist, fuck, you thought he’d never show up to this party — you had avoided him flawlessly since your breakup — if you could even call it that. You never official — you were never anything, just a situation that was more than a booty call, but less than a relationship. Every invitation was only accepted with assurance and recon that Satoru would not attend, every exit strategy was planned, and every move was carefully made.

Except this one.

“Oh, you recognize me?” he gasps in mock surprise, lips in that shit eating grin you had loved to kiss off of him, but now, all it did was make you want to slap him, “surprised you did after you’ve avoided me for so long, sweetheart,”

“And apparently you’re the one with brain damage because we broke up — don’t call me that,” you sigh, eyes glancing down at his outfit — a black and white suit with a high collar, as his mouth moved as he spoke, you caught sight of fangs on his teeth, and his eyes glinted with a crimson tint dipped in an ocean of blue, “your costume is fitting — you definitely did suck the life out of our relationship,”

“Bitter doesn’t suit you, baby,” your eye twitches, as he dares closer, eyes glinting in the low light of the kitchen, “plus y’know, you always did the best sucking,”

Your traitorous cheeks flush, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes betray you by flickering downwards, “fuck off—“

“Oh, I know you want me to fuck something — don’t think it’s off though,” he looms closer, licking his lips, as he smiles — and your heart forgets to beat — did he always smell this good? He smelt of musk, wood, and everything warm and honeyed — the scent melted over you, plying your resistance with sweetness in contrast to his vulgarity, “look at you, haven’t even touched you and you’re so pliant, where’s that mouth now?” And his thumbs drag down your lips, pulling at the bottom one — “looks better wrapped around my cock, doesn’t it?”

And his words snap you from your trance, slapping his hand away, “didn’t expect an apology from you, but I thought you’d do better than this shit,”

“Can you blame me for missing you, pretty?” He pouts, “thought you loved me more than that,”

“And I thought you loved me enough to commit but looks like we both are wrong,” you roll your eyes, “go find someone else to fuck with, Gojo,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Aw, baby, don’t act so unfamiliar, you had my dick in you after all, you can still call me Satoru,” and then there’s a cheer in the living room that cuts off your retort, as he turns to look.

And that’s your cue to leave, you slip away from him, grabbing your jacket, making an Irish exit, slipping through the throng of people partying. You manage to get down the street, the streets quiet now, the sounds of the party growing more distant by the second. A sense of dread settled over you the more you walked, forming a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach. The streetlights flickered above you, the wind cutting through your jacket as you pulled it closer around you. Your car was close, right past this wooded backyard, trees lining what seemed to be an abandoned home. There was only a few more yards — and then you heard a twig snap — your head snapped around to look behind you.

And that was your mistake.

A hand clamped over your mouth, as you gasped against it, another tight around your middle, your scream was muffled against the palm. And then a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Boo,” before he lets you go, and you whirl around, smacking Satoru against his chest, hard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your heart was pumping, hard, nearly banging against your ribs, body still shaking with adrenaline, “what the fuck - that’s not fucking funny,”

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny — it was supposed to be spooky,” he grins, unaffected by your anger, as your fingers clench into fists, “you didn’t give me a treat so I had to play a trick. It’s the rules of Halloween, pretty,”

“It wasn’t spooky, it was fucking scary—“ you move to hit him again, and he catches your hand by the wrist, and he’s pulling you close, “let me go, Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, his fingers caressing your cheek, and you feel your knees knocking together, the world shifting beneath your feet, “I’m sorry for frightening you, sweetheart,” and he’s helping you walk over to your car, “just wanted to make sure you get to your car safely,”

Why were you letting him help you? Why was your body leaning against his? Why were you letting his arm slink around your waist, fingers squeezing your hip? But those same questions sunk away into the inky abyss of your mind, as thoughts blurred over each other, and all you can think about was him.

“Satoru,” you murmur, as you stumble against him, and he catches you by your waist, steadying you, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” your head rests against his chest, but you felt so comfortable, so…content.

“It’s okay, baby, I got you,” he purred, his words only intoxicated you further, drizzled like melted molasses down your throat, “that spook I gave you earlier really took it out of you, but,” his fingers tilt your chin up, his eyes finding yours — and they glowed, a shiny blue that unnerved you, “should I show you something really scary?”

“Satoru, what—“ and he’s kissing you, lips sliding against yours — he tastes familiar, hint of candy corn that he was always a fiend for, but he tastes even sweeter than that, headier too — before he parts, “what are you doing?”

“Showing you just how much I missed you,” he hums, thumb gliding over the length of your cheek, “y’know how hard it was for me without you? Wouldn’t be able to sleep. I could only think about how I had screwed thing up. Would take these long walks at night when I couldn’t sleep,” and his fingers trace down your jawline, before reaching your neck, his thumb resting against your pulse, “turns out those walks were good for one thing,”

“And what’s that?” You murmur, still utterly distracted by his touch.

And he brushes his lips against your neck, teeth grazing against your pulse, “Finding a way to keep you — forever,” and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, as his arms press your body to his, your hands sliding up his chest, caged in by his form, “can I have a bite?” he whispers, lips against your ear now, sending a flush across your cheeks, “just wanna mark you again, like i used to, make you mine,”

For a moment, the curtain snaps back, mask slipping, as your eyes flutter open without the rosy glasses he had slipped over your eyes, “I’m not yours,” and you only see him — the true him — for a moment.

His muscles tighten, fingers digging into your sides harshly, gripping your flesh hard enough to bruise, his gaze is dark, navy instead of the usual cerulean with a ring of red that pierces through your skin, but his teeth — his teeth scare you the most — his fangs aren’t fake, his tongue sliding against them both, as he flashed an unnerving smile at you that sends your blood running cold.

But not colder than his.

“Satoru — what—“ and his lips find yours again, sending a headiness throughout your body, from your head to the tips of your toes, “I-“

“Just let me have this, just this one night,” he murmurs, words as smooth as glass and as needy as need itself, “please,”

And you’re the one pulling him to you, back against the cool metal of your car, and your fingers cup his face, pulling him against your lips. He tastes like want, his tongue parts your lips, as his fingers slide up your dress, sending goosebumps up your thighs, “Fuck, all it takes for you, huh?” He murmurs, and his fangs nibble at your bottom lip making you gasp, pressing wet kisses down your jaw, until he reaches your neck.

“Been thinking about this for far too long, sweetheart,”

two fingers drag down your neck first, as he tilts your head for easy access, and you shiver at his touch — was he colder than before? “I’m going to be doing a lot more than marking you like I did before,” his lips press a delicate kiss to your neck, “need to taste it,”

And his fangs drag over your soft flesh, before he finally bites you. Your mouth hangs open in a sharp gasp as his fangs pierce your skin, and your head lolls back, as pleasure floods your body. You feel your warm blood dripping from your neck, slipping down your skin, as he sucks from you.

He pulls away for a moment to look at you, your scarlet blood dripping from his mouth, painting his pale pink lips burgundy, as his tongue darts out to catch the blood slipping down your chin.

“You taste like everything to me,” he murmurs, pressing his nose against the nape of your neck, “sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, aren’t you?”

You whimper, “Satoru, feels so good,” and he’s kissing you again, letting you taste your own blood on his lips, it only makes you want him even more. But this isn’t right, something wasn’t right—

“Just give in, sweetheart,” he’s dragging your hands down your sides, squeezing your hips, as his palms rest under your thighs, “let me make you feel good,”

And he lifts you, guiding your legs to wrap around your waist, as his large palm slides up your thigh, hiking your dress up. He grins, looking at your soaked panties, thumb pressing against your puffy clit, making you gasp and squirm, “wonder if you taste even sweeter down here, baby?”

You whine louder, as his fingers slide into the waistband of your underwear and snaps it against your skin, “Your blood is pumping harder than ever, bet it tastes even better like that — full of your fear, full of your pleasure,” his fingers are sliding your drenched panties down, “fuck, you’re a little freak, bet you got wet when I grabbed you, can’t all be from the last few minutes,”

And his lithe finger sinking into you, as your lips part in a gasp as he bullies your walls, “So tight for me,” he groans, as his finger curls against you, making you moan, and his teeth graze against your neck, before sinking in. You both moan in tandem, as he drinks more of your blood, as a second finger parts into your folds, your release dripping down his palm. He’s stretching you out — fingers pistoning in and out, Pleasure courses up and down your body, toes curling, as all you can hear is the sucking of his fangs and the squelch of his fingers in your cunt.

And then he hits that spot, and you’re cumming, slick dripping down your thighs as you moan, as your hips move against his fingers, riding out your orgasm. He pulls your fangs from your neck, letting your blood drip down your neck.

He tilts your head back, letting him look at your fluttering eyelashes and fucked out expression, lips parted, as your blood paints your skin a beautiful maroon.

“So fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart,” he’s pulling his fingers from you, as you gasp from the emptiness. He places them in his mouth, cleaning them of your release, “think I may get addicted baby, gotta have more of you — doesn’t matter if it’s your blood or your cum,”

And you hear the clink of your belt buckle and sound of his zipper, as he frees his cock, rubbing against your dripping pussy, “Gonna let your ex fuck you against your car? Gotta have you baby, but if I take you now, I don’t know if I’ll ever let you go,” he’s teasing the head of his cock against your pussy lips, “do you still want me to do it?”

You whine, back arching against the hard surface of the car, “please, I need you,” your fingers wrap around his neck, his lips against yours, “Satoru—“

And he’s sinking his cock into you, as he’s lifting your legs to your ears, ankles by his ears as his hips flush against your ass, “Fuck, can you feel me kissing the deepest part of you?” His hips roll into you now, slowly at first, again and again, as your walls throb around him, the car groans and your ankles ache against his slow thrusts, “best cunt I’ve ever had, and all fucking mine now,”

“Toru, please, more—“

And he barks a laugh, sweat slipping down your forehead, his balls slapping against your ass, “so needy f’me, you’re mine aren’t you? Say you’re mine,” he’s grunting as your walls flutter around him, and he knows you’re close—

Your orgasm washes over you, toes curling, and he leans forward, fangs sinking into you, as he fucks you through it. The blood he drinks makes your head dizzy with pleasure, until he pulls away, letting your blood drip from his lips. And he’s grunting, hips stuttering as he bottoms out — making you gasp and whine again. Until he’s cumming inside you, painting your walls white, emptying his load into you. He’s fucking his cum inside your cunt.

And he’s easing your legs down as the two of you come down, his face buried in the nape of your neck, licking at the blood dripping from his bites — your neck beginning to ache and sting now.

“So pretty, so perfect,” he coos, his lips curling still red from your blood, as he’s curling his arms around your waist, “gotta take you home so I can taste you all over again.”

“No, I can’t. This was a one time thing—“

And he’s tilting your chin up, eyes flashing dangerously, as his lips curl, “I told you, I’m not going to let you go, besides,” he turns your head towards your rear view mirror, your eyes beginning to glint red, “I have to let you have a bite of me later,” and you can feel your blood run cold, “it’s only fair, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

✴︎ a/n: was possessed to write this by the halloween spirits -- also i have a thing for bloodsucking now unfortunately. have a spooky season :)

✴︎ tag list: @d1rtv, @crazynocturnalkiki, @ichikanu, @dazailover1900, @sinnerstardoll, @bisexualpanicwentoutforasmoke, @dumbabie, @aureatekintsugi, @mooly-artistic, @happymangospot, @hiimarandin, @bunsunee, @5-xiaoo,

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

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joelscurls · 7 months

Text

feel it in your bones

next part

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12.5k

summary: Two years ago, you finished your PhD and moved to Vermont. In the time since, you’ve gotten a job as a college professor, had your heart broken, and sworn off relationships entirely. Enter Joel, the father of one of your students, here for Homecoming Weekend – and too attractive to resist.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), alcohol consumption, fluff, smut, masturbation (f), mutual pining(?), sexual tension, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cumplay / cum eating, some light biting, use of pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, etc.), reader has an asshole ex, no use of y/n

a/n: my first Joel fic! This is honestly a bit self-indulgent but I love fall and academia and Joel Miller so sue me okay. ty to my bby @caffeinated-validation for reading through this and offering your insight -- get you a partner who will beta your filthy Joel Miller smut for you lmao <3

You’ve gotten used to being alone.

You don’t mind it as much as you had a few months ago, the breakup still fresh, every touch of your own fingers seering into your skin when you’d remembered the way he’d touched you, the sound of your voice almost unrecognizable as you’d convince yourself each day to get out of bed and go to work, where you’d inevitably run into him. It was painful then, having to come home to the quiet, always far too aware of the sound of your own thoughts drumming against the inside of your skull.

Now though, you revel in that quiet. Sip your coffee in silence each morning. You’ve learned how to stay lost in your work, bringing home stacks of papers to grade and eating through texts to support your research while your dinner gets cold on the table in front of you. You’re well aware that this isn’t the healthiest way to cope, to just avoid it all, but it’s better than feeling.

You’ve sworn off relationships entirely. It’s a silent promise to yourself – that you’ll remain married to your work. You will devote all of your energy to making sure your students excel and that your research is strong. That is your life’s purpose, to make use of the PhD you worked so hard to get – not to be someone’s girlfriend or wife. And you’re fine with that, really. You’ve become immune to loneliness – or numb, maybe.

Regardless, you welcome the independence. You don’t have to worry about anyone else’s thoughts or feelings when it comes to the way you spend your own time. You’re free to do whatever you want. You can draw yourself a bath, fill it with bubbles, sit in it while you drain a bottle of wine into your mouth until the water runs cold. You can eat an entire box of dry cereal in one sitting while you re-watch your favorite show for the twentieth time. You can make yourself cum at any hour of the night with your vibrator or your shower head or your hand – and then go to work the next morning without a semblance of guilt.

Really, you like being alone.

Until you don’t.

It’s Homecoming Weekend at Sarah’s school.

She had insisted that Joel didn’t have to come, that it was mostly an opportunity for the college to milk donations out of sentimental alumni. But he’d missed her for the month she’d been gone, the house far too quiet with just him in it. In previous years, Joel had busied himself following Sarah’s departure with home projects. Three years in, though, he’s updated just about every room in the house, re-done the floors, built a brand new back deck.

In other words, he’s fresh out of distractions.

So, he’d made the trek to Vermont, with the excuse that he’d always wanted to experience a New England fall. It’s a lie, one that Sarah can probably read right through, considering he vocalizes his discomfort whenever the temperature drops below 70 degrees in Texas, but she goes along with it.

Besides, he wants to see what his tuition money is paying for.

In truth, Joel had been nervous when Sarah announced what major she’d decided to pursue. She had just finished her freshman year, prerequisite courses all completed. When she’d said the word – anthropology – Joel hadn’t even been sure what it meant. Since then, she’s explained it to him many times and in truth, he’s still none the wiser. Really, he’s just happy that she’s happy. Her passion for it is evident on her face any time she talks to him about the courses she’s taking, how great her professors are.

Especially you – she talks about you all the time – her mentor.

You’re supervising her on her thesis project – a qualitative assessment on students’ views on feminism and gender politics in the classroom. This past summer, Joel swears Sarah had mentioned your name more than her own friends’. She’d told him what courses you teach, what research you’ve conducted, all the countries you’ve traveled to for fieldwork. And she gives the best advice – Sarah had said one night over dinner – she’s like, my lifeline at school.

Joel doesn’t know you, but he’s thankful for you – for the guidance you so clearly provide Sarah.

There’s an Open House today for the Social Sciences college, which Joel tags along with Sarah to. He’s hopeful that he’ll learn something, come to understand the field and why Sarah loves it.

A buffet table stocked with refreshments sits on one side of the lecture hall. Sarah grabs them both cups of water infused with cucumber while Joel saves them seats at the back. There’s a slideshow projected onto the white board at the front, the current slide reading: An Introduction to the Social Sciences College & Our Current Research Efforts. A group of professors gathers at the front, name tags stuck to their button-downs and blazers. Sarah spots you as she sits down, pointing you out as she hands Joel his water.

“There – that one’s my mentor – the one in the plaid pants.”

Joel’s eyes follow her finger to the group at the front, scanning down the line. There’s a man, short and stocky with noticeably small hands hooked by the thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. Next to him, is a woman, taller than him, wearing a bright turquoise silk shirt, gold bangles decorating both of her wrists. And next to her is you, in the plaid pants.

Sarah had told him a lot of things about you, but she’d never mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re smiling at something Turquoise Shirt has just said to you, and it’s like your entire face is glowing. Joel has to take a sip of water to collect himself.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you for the entirety of the presentation.

The dean of the college starts by briefly covering each department and what research efforts they have planned for the semester. Joel should be listening, he came here to listen – but he can’t get himself to focus on anything other than you.

You’re mostly focused on the presenter. Every so often, though, you distractedly toy with the buttons on your cardigan or twirl a strand of your hair between delicate fingers. And Joel is suddenly realizing how touch-starved he is after years of refusing to date – because just watching you, your hands – is about to send him into orbit.

You’re well-spoken too, he learns, when you take the microphone to discuss your current research project.

“This semester, I’ll be delving into the presence of food deserts in Vermont, and the effects these are having on the overall health of youth in the state,” you say. “We have received a sizable grant for this research, and I am thrilled to get started in a matter of weeks. This project will span the better part of the academic year as I speak to locals and craft surveys that will provide qualitative data to support my findings from the field.”

You press down on the clicker in your hand. A new slide projects onto the whiteboard. It’s a photo of you against the backdrop of a jungle, lush, green trees stretching past the top of the frame. The wide-brimmed hat you’re wearing covers most of your face – but that damn smile radiates through the makeshift screen.

“This is me last summer, in Peru. My research here was much more self-indulgent – I studied the important role that food plays in the average family there – and ate wayyyy too many sweets.”

The crowd laughs. It’s the first reaction they’ve expressed this entire time.

It’s entrancing, the way you command the room. You have such a calm confidence about you as you speak, words never once faltering as you stride back and forth across the front of the lecture hall. Joel isn’t much of a talker – maybe that’s why he feels like he could listen to you for hours on end. He thinks that you could read the damn phone book and his focus would remain unwavering. That your voice, velvet-soft, could spellbind him without much effort.

When your portion of the presentation ends, he’s more than a bit disappointed.

Students and their families filter out of the lecture hall. You situate yourself in a corner of the room for the actual Open House portion of the event, at the ready to answer any questions or, more likely, offer directions to another part of campus.

You smile as familiar faces and strangers alike pass you, reach for your to-go mug on the table behind you, and take a sip. The coffee is pretty much ice-cold now, but you still gulp it down, only after the caffeine anyway.

You place the mug back down with a light thud against the tabletop. Suddenly, a voice you’ve come to know well rings in your ear.

“Professor!”

When you look up, Sarah Miller is bounding down the aisle, signature smile plastered across her face. And there’s a man behind her, you notice, moving much slower.

He’s tall, broad shoulders pulling taut against the green flannel he’s wearing. He cradles a beige workwear jacket in the crook of his bicep,corded muscle visibly bulging against fabric. His other hand rubs at the scruff along his jaw, pointedly sharp in the patches where hair doesn’t grow.

He has a distinguishable nose, you notice as he gets closer, strong – large and hooked at the center of his tan face. It’s complemented perfectly by his plush, pink lips that seem to be set in a permanent pout.

In other words, he’s handsome – almost distractingly so, as he stands next to Sarah in front of you.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she beams – turns to the man next to her.

“Dad, this is my mentor,” She says your name.

He nods. His eyes meet yours. They’re deep brown, almost black – and undeniably entrancing.

“‘‘ts nice to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Joel.”

Ma’am.

It’s not like the word is foreign to you, given your profession. There’s something about the way he says it, though, that makes your head spin, his southern drawl dripping in honey-butter and bourbon.

Joel outstretches a hand. You shake it – try to ignore the way it dwarfs yours.

“Joel,” you repeat, eyes locked firmly on the space between his eyes. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“That was a great presentation you gave up there. You’re a good, uh – talker.” His expression is unreadable. His hands fidget at his sides.

You offer him a smile. “Thank you – I think? My students probably wish I would shut up sometimes. Right, Sarah?”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, “as if you’ve never seen your rating on Rate My Professor.”

She’s not wrong – you pride yourself on having pretty stellar reviews – but you also try your hardest not to let them get to your head. Sarah isn’t helping that, right now.

“Anyways,” she exaggerates the word, “what are you up to tonight, Professor? They’re holding an exhibition at the art center later, all student work – d’you wanna come with us?”

Your reflex is to say no. After all, he’ll probably be there. Your ex, Quentin, works in the art history department. And even though you’re over him, you’re not exactly looking for an excuse to be in the same room as him. But you technically don’t have plans tonight, and you can’t even think of a good lie right now with Sarah staring you down.

And then there’s Joel, standing in front of you, all broad shoulders and chiseled jaw – and you think, what a great opportunity to get to know him, you know, as the parent of your student. Definitely not as anything else, anything more. It is Homecoming, after all.

So, you say yes.

“Cool!” Sarah smiles, “Meet you there at 7?”

You nod, tell Sarah that sounds perfect, and that you’ll see them tonight.

Sarah starts toward the door. But Joel stands there for a moment longer. His eyes linger on yours, his wordless stare threatening to burn a hole in your head. You can feel the heat of it, beads of sweat beginning to form at the base of your neck. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying your hardest to conceal them.

A beat passes. It looks like he might say something, his mouth opening then closing again.

He gives you a courteous nod, turns on his heels, and follows after Sarah.

Joel hadn’t remembered the food being this bad when he’d visited for orientation. He struggles to keep down a particularly rubbery bite of chicken and reaches for his water bottle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on not vomiting.

Sarah laughs next to him. “Hey man, at least you don’t have to eat this shit year-round.”

He grunts in agreement. “Gonna cancel your meal plan next semester and jus’ give you the money to buy groceries.”

She hums. Cocks her head. “That means I’m gonna have to learn how to cook – do you think Student Housing has fire insurance?”

Joel wants to roll his eyes, but it’s definitely his fault – after all, he can barely fry an egg without setting off the fire alarm. Their freezer has always been well-stocked with TV dinners and tater tots. So instead, he just shrugs.

“So what’s this art thing tonight?” He moves on to the salad on his plate, decidedly much safer.

“I don’t really know – my roommate asked me to go, she has some pieces in it, I guess.”

He nods. “And your professor – that was nice ‘a you to invite her.”

Sarah nods, smiles. “Yeah – you like her, right? I mean, you’re sure you’re cool with me asking her to come?” She asks, a mouthful of lettuce.

“‘Course,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level, nonchalant.

“I know you’re not really one for meeting new people,” she teases.

He mock-glares at her. It quickly softens into a smile. “Nah – she seems cool.” It’s an understatement, but Sarah doesn’t need to know that.

She doesn’t need to know that her dad is attracted to her professor.

Joel thinks that he might not have been so great at hiding it, though, when a few hours later, in the middle of watching an unarguably bad student production of Macbeth, Sarah turns to him and whispers that she’s not feeling well.

“Hm, is that right?,” he whispers back, unconvinced.

“Yeah, must’ve been the food.”

“We ate the same thing, Sarah.”

There’s a shout on stage. The actor’s voice cracks.

“Well I dunno,” she continues, “My stomach just doesn’t feel good.”

“Yeah, and what about that thing with your professor?”

He can see her smirk even in the dim lighting.

“Shit, you’re right. And I don’t have her phone number, so it’s not like I can text her...”

She groans. Joel thinks she should be on that stage right now.

“We can’t just ghost her.” Joel has no idea what that means. He doesn’t bother asking.

“Sarah-” he starts.

“Please. She’s such a nice lady, she doesn’t deserve to be stood up.”

He could say no. It’s not like he knows you, owes you anything. But in truth, Joel does want to see you again. And he’s well aware that Sarah might be trying to set the two of you up – ever-perceptive and hell-bent on her dad being happy – but he tries not to think about how embarrassing that feels, his daughter playing matchmaker for him. Because he wants to spend more time with you, get to know more about you, if you’ll let him.

He’s barred himself from forming any kind of real relationship with a woman since Sarah’s mother left. Not because she’d broken his heart, but because he’d needed all of his energy to go to Sarah. As a single father, he had always feared that he wouldn’t be enough for his daughter – wouldn’t give enough – that growing up in a broken home would leave her half of a person. That fear had fueled him to be the best dad possible – to work overtime so that he could provide for them, to never miss one of her soccer games or dance recitals. And so, he had never even considered dating, not seriously, anyway. It would take attention away from Sarah, and he couldn’t risk that.

He’s found it difficult to shake this principle, now that Sarah has grown up. He often grapples with the fact that Sarah doesn’t need him as much anymore – that she’s her own person living her own life. He knows he could date now, could meet someone new, open his heart to them. But he’s so used to fighting that human need for companionship, that it feels almost unnatural to let his guard down.

But now there’s you – your megawatt smile and your impressive intelligence and your care for his daughter – and suddenly he’s forgotten his own rules.

“Okay; I’ll go.” It comes out entirely too enthusiastic.

He can practically feel Sarah’s accomplished, shit-eating grin burning into the side of his head.

You leave campus around four pm, once the last of the Open House participants have gone.

You take a shower when you get home. Then you order sushi – stuff rolls of yellowfin and salmon into your mouth as you sit at the dining table still wrapped up in your towel, trying your best not to spill soy sauce on the half-graded essays that litter the tabletop. When you’re done, you retreat to your closet, treading on damp feet across the waxy hardwood floor.

And you definitely don’t think about Joel – not when you debate what to wear to the art exhibition, not when your fingers accidentally graze one of your nipples as you put your bra on, not when you get distracted while pulling your panties on by the pool of wetness that has formed between your thighs.

You definitely don’t think about him – because he’s Sarah’s dad, and that would be wrong.

So it’s accidental when his name falls from your mouth, fingers pressed against your clit, visions of large, calloused hands flashing behind your closed eyelids.

You cover your mouth with the curve of your palm to prevent it from slipping out again. Sink back into the mattress.

Then you press your fingers down harder.

Joel feels like a first-year student, wandering aimlessly across campus in search of the art center. Sarah’s directions had been, well, brief. She’d insisted he’d be able to find it no problem. Now though, in the limited light of dusk, all the structures look the same, bleeding together like watercolors against the evening sky.

He does find it, eventually, a three-story brick building tucked between the library and what looks to be a dormitory. Bright, artificial light seeps through the windows that line the bottom floor. The double doors at the front are propped open, people slipping in and out of them as he approaches.

He looks for you outside, searching for a familiar head of hair, the brown cardigan you’d been wearing earlier. When he doesn’t see you, he reluctantly makes his way up the stairs and into the building.

He spots you almost immediately affixed in front of a painting, studying it intently.

You’re wearing a different outfit than the one you had on this afternoon – a merlot-colored slip dress and a cropped leather jacket. He struggles to ignore the way the satin clings to you, the curves of your body excruciatingly accentuated. He has to remind himself that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, shouldn't expect you to stick around for long once he lets you know Sarah isn’t coming. You’ll probably make an excuse to leave shortly after, and he’ll be back on Sarah’s couch within the hour.

After all, why would you stick around just to talk to him?

You don’t see him when he sidles up next to you. He clears his throat and you startle.

“Sorry,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to spook ya.”

You take a step back to face him and put a hand to your chest, your breath beginning to even. His eyes wander, for a moment, to where your fingers rest against your collarbone.

“Shit – it’s okay. Where’s Sarah?”

“She wasn’t feeling well, but she said I should still come. Is that – uh – is that okay?” He’s suddenly worried that this was dumb, that he shouldn’t have come, should’ve just let Sarah explain to you on Monday.

But your features soften then, a small smile forming between rosy cheeks.

“Joel, it’s fine; I appreciate you not ditching me.”

“‘Course,” he manages. He’s waiting for you to say something else – that you need to leave. But you don’t, and you both stand enveloped in the pregnant pause that lingers, bright overhead lighting and nerves giving Joel the start of a migraine he’ll have to ignore for the rest of the night.

He clears his throat. Turns to the painting in front of you. “So what’s this one, then?”

The painting in question is a mish-mash of shapes and colors. Joel can’t distinguish any one thing on the canvas. It’s all just a lot of…nothing. He knows it’s not for him when he thinks a preschooler with finger paints could’ve done this.

You bring your hand up to cradle your jaw, brows furrowed in contemplation. It looks like you’ll offer an actual, intellectual interpretation. So Joel isn’t prepared when instead, you say:

“Looks like a bad trip.”

A laugh bubbles out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing.

“Sorry,” you say, between giggles. “That was stupid.”

“No,” he says, swiping a hand over his jaw, trying to physically rub the embarrassing smile off his face. “You’re funny.”

He means it. He’s not sure how it’s possible that you’re funny, when you’re also so smart and interesting and gorgeous. It’s almost unfair. He thinks, fleetingly, that you’re way out of his league – a boring, old man like him.

You continue to the next piece, Joel following closely behind. It looks like it must be by the same artist. The same variation of shapes fill the canvas, just in different colors.

“Alright Cowboy, what’s your take on this one?”

Joel studies it for a moment – tries to find something he can pull out. Something tangible. Something funny, even.

He comes up empty.

“‘ts interesting f’sure. Lots of…colors,” he tries. He realizes how ridiculous he sounds. Laughs. “Shit…art ain’t really my thing,” he admits, arm stretched behind his head.

“So what is your thing?” Your voice is tinged with something – Joel tries his hardest not to let himself believe that it’s flirtation.

Your eyes are still fixed on the canvas in front of you. And Joel is thankful, because he thinks if you looked at him, let those eyes meet his, he’d break – tell you that right now, you’re his thing.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer either way, though, because he’s interrupted by a man’s voice behind the two of you.

“Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here!”

You whip around to face him. Joel turns too. The man is taller than you, but shorter than him. He’s wearing round, wire-frame glasses that sit like a suggestion on his nose, and a full suit, with a tie that has some god-awful, ugly pattern all over it. It looks like the art here, Joel thinks.

Joel’s eyes flit back to you, and he watches as your hackles go up. You back up, bumping into the canvas behind you. You curse under your breath.

“Quentin. Hey.”

“Glad you could make it,” the man, Quentin, says. He swirls a cup of what appears to be red wine in one hand. He leans in closer, brings the other hand up at the side of his mouth to conceal his words. “I know this isn’t really your scene.”

You shift uncomfortably. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m uh, venturing out, I guess. Trying new things.”

He laughs. It’s an asshole laugh, Joel notes. Everything about this guy screams asshole.

“About time!” The asshole puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch. Joel’s hands instinctively bunch into fists at his side.

“So proud of you,” Quentin says. “Finally letting yourself be a little cultured.”

This guy can’t be serious.

You scoff. Grab his hand and flick it off your shoulder. He looks wounded. Good, Joel thinks.

“Yeah, because traveling the world has left me so very uncultured, Quentin.”

“Hey,” he puts his hands up. “Don’t take offense, baby. I know your little field trips are important, too.”

It’s the last straw.

In one movement, you’re pushing off the wall, shoving past Quentin, and making your way to the exit. Joel doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at the asshole, just follows after you out the door.

It’s gotten colder in the short time he’d been inside, he notices. A gust of wind nips at the exposed skin on his hands. He stuffs them haphazardly in the pockets of his jacket.

He finds you perched on the front steps, arms wrapped around your body protectively. He takes a few cautious strides forward. When you look up at him, you’re visibly distraught.

You groan as he sits down next to you. “Sorry. That was embarrassing.”

Joel wants to touch you, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but he knows he probably shouldn’t – not right now.

“‘ts not embarrassin’,” he says, instead. His warm breath materializes in the cold air. “Not for you, anyway. That guy was clearly an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That was my ex-boyfriend.” You’re both quiet, then. The two of you sit there, side by side on the stairs, in comfortable silence. A few minutes pass. Joel notices you chewing on your bottom lip, like you’re considering something. When you speak again, your voice wavers.

“Would you want to go for a drink or something? It’s just, I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s hearing – you’re asking him out? He takes a second to respond. You start to backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t wan-”

“Hey,” he stops you. Makes sure you’re looking at him.

“I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Great.” Your hand drops to your side, brushing against his. He expects you to move it. He’s thankful when you don’t.

“I know a place–” you continue – “one that won’t be full of drunk college kids.”

“Great,” Joel parrots you. He stands, extends a hand to help you up. You take it, letting your palm rest against his for a moment longer than necessary when you’re upright.

“Cool,” you say, clearing your throat. You pull up the Uber app on your phone. Joel watches you book a driver. Then you turn back to him with a smile. It’s different from the one he’s seen before. It’s smaller, shyer.

“Larry will be here in 4 minutes,” you say.

The bar is a twenty minutes’ drive from campus – fifteen with Larry’s lead foot.

It’s more of a lounge than a bar, really – leather armchairs accompanied by low cocktail tables arranged throughout the single large, open room. A brick fireplace sits on the back wall, currently roaring with warm orange flames.

On either side of the fireplace are floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with vintage books, their illegible titles etched in gold along weathered spines. You can imagine that their pages are yellowed and dusty, and it’s so tempting to swipe one off the shelf to see, to smell.

The light in here is warm, a stark contrast from the bright white of the art gallery. It’s comforting, and you feel your body immediately relax when you walk through the entrance next to Joel.

The bar at the front is busy (it is Saturday night, after all), so you and Joel stand at the back of the crowd for a few moments, waiting for the people in front of you to get their drinks. When a group of men start forcing their way through right next to you, Joel immediately puts a large hand on your shoulder, turning your body towards his. He’s just being chivalrous, making sure you don’t get shoved, but it still sends a shockwave up your spine.

When a spot clears in front of the bar, Joel steps forward, bringing you with him. He orders a whiskey neat, then turns to you, asking what you want.

It’s difficult to think with his hand still on you, so you go with the first words that come to mind.

“Same as you.”

He stares at you for a moment, amused, like he can see right through you and the fact that you’ve never had whiskey in your life. But you hold his gaze, challenging him with your eyes, and he drops it. “Make that two,” he tells the bartender.

Once you have your drinks, Joel slaps a few bills down on the bar. You can tell he won’t let you do so much as offer to pay him back, so you don’t. You lead him through the lounge to a couple of chairs tucked away in the back corner, partially hidden behind an antique wooden partition – far enough from the main seating area, but still close enough to the fireplace that you can feel its warmth.

This is where you always sit when you come, usually with coworkers, once or twice with him. Quentin had been pretty critical of this place, like he is with everything. He’d complained that the wine selection could be larger – that they could have more French options. When you’d explained that most of their wines come from local vineyards, he’d just rolled his eyes.

You’re still reeling a bit from your interaction with him at the gallery, even as you settle into soft leather and feel a burst of warmth against your cheek. He was such an asshole, you think, taking a cautious sip of whiskey. You’re immediately repulsed by the taste of it, and you do a poor job of hiding the grimace that automatically spreads across your face in the crook of your arm.

Joe laughs across from you. “Not your thing? I can go grab ya somethin’ else,” he offers.

“No,” you insist, “this is fine. Just need to get used to it.” It’s a lie – you both know it – but he doesn’t push it.

Instead he leans back, swirls his own glass – which looks comically tiny in his grip – and lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“So, your ex is a real dick, huh?”

“You can say that again,” you mumble.

He quirks a brow at you. “Why’d you even date him?”

It’s a fair question. Why had you dated him? Loneliness, maybe? You’d like to blame it on that, but it’s not the truth – not entirely. Quentin had been kind, at first. He had seemed so interested in you and where you came from and what you were passionate about. He was a relatively good boyfriend, all things considered – until he’d grown tired of hiding who he really was.

You’d gotten a substantial pay raise at the end of your second year at the university. When you’d told Quentin, he’d gone quiet – practically gave you the silent treatment for days on end. When you’d finally worn him down, gotten him to talk, the most he could utter was that he was happy for you; he just wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten a raise like that yet.

It’s not like you were in competition – you worked for two entirely different departments, in different colleges. But it had been a constant losing battle nevertheless, to get him to stop comparing your successes. And when he’d found out you actually made more money than him – that had pretty much been the nail in the coffin.

You tell Joel all of this. You’re not sure why you do – it’s not like you can blame the alcohol after one half-sip of whiskey. You feel comfortable with him though, here, like this. He’s a good listener, too, attentively nodding every so often as you ramble.

When you’re done, he’s quiet. He stares at his drink, pursing his lips.

After a beat, he looks up at you.

“You deserve better than that, darlin’.”

You almost crumble under his gaze. His eyes are at least two shades darker than they had been a moment ago – and there’s something lingering behind them that you can’t quite place. Whatever it is has you feeling weak.

“You barely know me,” you joke.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I know enough, though. Could do much better than him, I reckon.”

You want to ask him if he has anyone in mind, if he would be better for you, but you can’t – not yet – not this sober. You take another sip of your drink, breathing through your nose as it burns its way down your throat.

You talk for hours. He asks about your family; you tell him how you moved out here two years ago on your own after you finished your doctorate program. He’s impressed by that, says you’re brave. You tell him you’ve never felt very brave.

It’s all so easy, talking to Joel in the dimly-lit bar you’ve been to so many times before. Sipping on whiskey as if you actually enjoy it. It’s never felt so much like home — not the bar, not this town. The thought is dizzying.

He asks about Sarah, too, how she’s doing in school. He insists that she doesn’t tell him much, and if she does, it’s about you and how great your classes are.

“I had never even heard of anthropology before she decided to study it,” he admits. “But I’m glad she did. It’s her thing, f’sure.”

You smile, knowingly. “Yeah, it is. She’s a great kid, Joel. You raised her well.”

He shakes his head humbly, but you don’t relent. You want him to hear this, really hear this. Because you get the feeling he hasn’t been told enough.

“She’s not just smart, Joel. She’s good. She’s a good person. That’s kind of rare nowadays — especially among her generation.”

Joel chuckles, his head hanging between his shoulders.

“I mean, shit,” you continue, “she brings me pancakes from the diner just off campus whenever she knows I’m stuck in my office working late. My other students barely even ask how I’m doing most days.”

Joel hums in amusement. His eyes are locked on a wrinkle in the leather of the arm of his chair.

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. You wait for him to look at you. When he does, his gaze is uncertain. “She’s a good person —“ you repeat — “and that’s because you raised her to be.”

“‘ts just southern hospitality, is all,” he mumbles.

“No Joel – it’s you.”

He stares for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. His jaw twitches. And then he breaks, finally, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Thank you.”

His voice is so soft suddenly. It throws you off. It also turns you on – like, a lot, the gravellyness of it scratching your brain and your loins. You dig your nails into leather in an attempt to steady your quickening heart rate.

“No problem,” you mutter sheepishly.

Suddenly, there’s a buzz on the table – Joel’s phone. He picks it up, squinting at the bright screen.

“Sarah?,” you ask.

“Nah, ‘ts just my brother, Tommy.”

He types out a quick response and re-locks the phone, placing it back down on the table.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, jus’ asking if I think hookin’ up with a client is a bad idea,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You don’t know Tommy, but you like him already – seems like a fun guy. And clearly values his brother’s opinions. It’s telling, you think.

“That’s right – you’re a contractor. You and your brother work together?”

“Yeah, we got our own business back home.”

“And you like it?,” you ask.

“Used to,” he laughs, “when I was more limber.”

You laugh too. You can feel the heat of slight intoxication, and something else, in your chest, your inhibitions dissolving in your bloodstream. And suddenly that horrible idea you’d had earlier to flirt with Joel doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Still look plenty limber to me, Mr. Miller.” The words leave you before you have the chance to stop them.

Joel’s hands tense on either arm of his chair. Despite your buzz, you still have half a mind to worry that you’ve fucked up, that there’s a chance you’ve misread this whole thing.

But then he sinks back in the chair, the leather groaning under him. He rakes his dark eyes over you. And the way he’s looking at you is unmistakable. He looks hungry. You feel like your entire body has been set ablaze.

Without thinking, you stand up, take a couple of steps toward him. Scan the lounge. Most of the remaining patrons are huddled by the bar, talking boisterously among themselves. Tucked in your little corner, the two of you might as well be in a different zip code.

“Whatcha doin’, darlin’?” Joel smirks up at you as you stand unmoving in front of him. He takes one of your hands in his and traces gentle, reassuring shapes along the back of it with his index finger.

Without a word, you hike your dress up to your thighs and straddle him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his legs. He hums approvingly as you sink onto his lap and cup his face in your hands. He places his own on your lower back, just above your ass. “This okay?,” you ask. It comes out breathy and wrecked.

“C’mere,” he says in that syrupy drawl, and then one of his hands is on the back of your head, pushing you gently against him, your lips slotting to his.

It’s messy and all-encompassing. He kisses you with a fervency that confirms this hasn’t all been in your head –that he’s been wanting this too.

The voices of bar-goers and the clinking of glassware are suddenly muted. All you can focus on is Joel — the way he tastes like whiskey and cinnamon gum, the way one of his large hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers tangled in the hair there while the other remains on your back, steadying you. The way he licks into your mouth after a few seconds with a groan, causing you to reflexively bare down on his lap.

You feel his cock swell underneath you and you grind against it, laughing low and quiet against his lips when his entire body tenses. He pulls back, blinking up at you with glazed-over eyes. Joel, all six feet of him, looks wrecked.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants. He looks down at where you’re hovering over his now fully-hard cock. “Gotta stop. Otherwise you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a damn teenager.”

You pout at him, lifting your lower half off of his. You don’t stand up, though – not immediately, anyway. Instead, you take his head back in both of your hands. He lets you, blinking up at you wordlessly.

You’d known when you’d first seen him earlier today that he was handsome, but right now, his face so close to yours – you’re seeing all of the little details – the scar indented in his forehead, just above his right eyebrow; the flush that stains his cheeks, which you can guess is partly from the alcohol, but maybe also from you. He’s biblically gorgeous, which makes it difficult to pry yourself off of him.

You do though, after a minute, smoothing down your dress once you’re back on two feet. You feel a bit breathless, suddenly. And exhausted.

What time is it?

You retrieve your phone from where it’s been lodged in the cushion of your chair.

You tap on the screen, waking it up.

12:47?! When had it gotten so late?

Joel stands, adjusting himself in his pants. You can’t help but giggle at him — big, tough man looking positively ruined after just a few minutes of being under you. You feel pretty accomplished. He rolls his eyes at you.

“Shut up — just get us an Uber.” You don’t miss the smile that sprouts between his cheeks when he thinks you aren’t looking.

You wait outside for your driver — John M.

The cold Vermont air is sobering. You feel almost normal by the time the car pulls up, save for the dull, throbbing ache between your legs. You will it away as you crouch into the back of the silver Nissan behind Joel. The sound of the radio playing soft rock hits is a poor distraction on the drive home.

“Wanna come in?,” you ask Joel when the car comes to a halt in front of your building. You watch him ponder it, eyes glued to the roof of the sedan. But ultimately, he shakes his head. “Can’t,” he says. “Gotta check on Sarah.”

You nod, try to hide your disappointment. “Right.”

You open the door. Just as you’re about to get out, Joel stops you.

“Wait,” he says. “Can I see your phone?” You’re confused, but you hand it over. You watch as he pulls up your contacts and clicks the ‘plus’ button in the corner, an understanding smile pulling at your lips.

When he hands the phone back, his contact now in it, you grab his from off the seat next to him and do the same.

“I’ll text you,” he promises as you step out.

You turn back to him. “You better.”

He’s smiling when you shut the door.

You’re smiling when the car pulls away.

It’s only when you’re tucked into bed, phone charging securely on the nightstand that the thought crosses your mind: you’re catching feelings for someone again.

And then you feel sick.

Joel wakes up the next morning feeling giddy. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again – waiting by the phone for a pretty girl to call him back. Only this time, he’s waiting for a text.

He had messaged you almost as soon as he’d gotten back to Sarah’s apartment last night, asking if he could see you again before he goes back to Texas. He has no shame about it, he can’t – not when his entire mind and body are consumed by his overwhelming attraction to you.

He’d found it difficult to sleep last night, and not because the springs in Sarah’s cheap couch were digging into his already-damaged back. It was thoughts of you, and the borderline-painful erection they caused, that had kept him up.

Now, with the sun seeping through the living room windows directly into his eyes, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to be awake. He checks his phone immediately, and tries to ignore the way his heart sinks when he sees you haven’t responded yet. You’re probably still asleep, he tells himself.

He tosses his phone aimlessly back onto the couch and stands with a groan. His legs feel worse than his back, if that’s even possible.

Sarah still isn’t awake, so Joel meanders into her kitchen, in search of something to eat for breakfast. It’s pretty much what you would expect from a college student’s kitchen – bare bones. There are a few suspicious containers of leftovers in the fridge along with a Brita water pitcher and a package of cookie dough. In the freezer, several cartons of ice cream (all chocolate) and half a loaf of bread. And finally, in the cabinets, a few boxes of mac & cheese and an unopened jar of peanut butter.

Toast it is, then.

Sarah appears just as he’s raiding her drawers for a butter knife. “Morning,” she announces sleepily behind him.

“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, turning to face her. “Hungry?”

“Yeah. There’s a diner down the street. Thought we could get pancakes.” She yawns.

Joel grins. That must be the place you’d told him about – the one Sarah brings you leftovers from when you’re working late.

“You buyin’?,” he jokes.

“Only in exchange for the juicy deets from last night.” She pauses. “Okay, maybe not all the deets. There’s some things I don’t need to know – like why you got home so late.”

“Sarah,” Joel warns, but she’s undeterred, smiling like a Cheshire Cat with every one of her unbrushed teeth on display.

“Just get changed,” she says, and skips out of the room.

You’ve been staring at the text for twenty minutes now.

Had a lot of fun tonight. Can I see you again before I leave? Let me know if you’re free tomorrow (today I guess). - Joel

You should say yes – you want to say yes – so why can’t you get your fingers to move?

It’s a stupid question. You know why – it’s Quentin and your inability to shake the fear that someone else will hurt you like he did. If you keep Joel at arm’s length – continue to ignore his message – he can’t do that. You can just take last night for what it was – a fun time, a hookup – and stop this before it goes too far, before feelings get involved.

Because it never ends well, once they do.

You get out of bed without responding, but you leave the text open on your phone. You attempt to busy yourself with housework and grading. Again and again though, you find your fingers hovering over the screen, your mind wandering to the way Joel’s lips had felt on yours, the way the bulge in his jeans had felt against your clothed heat, the sound of his southern drawl when he’d called you darlin’.

Then you snap yourself out of it and place the phone face-down on the table.

This goes on for hours, a vicious cycle. You feel your resolve slipping more and more each time you pick the phone up.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you break, light bathing your kitchen and revealing all of the spots you’d missed when you’d dusted earlier. Your phone is heavy in the palm of your hand like a bomb – like if you don’t hit send right now, you’ll lose the motivation and it’ll detonate, taking any chance of you seeing Joel tonight and not self-sabotaging with it.

You close your eyes when you press the button and toss your phone somewhere across the room.

Well – you think – no going back now.

Joel is sitting on cold, hard bleachers at the Homecoming football game when he sees you’ve responded, the shouts of people in the stands around him not enough to avert his attention.

Hey, yeah, that would be great! Do you want to come to my apartment later? I have a bottle of wine we can crack into if you’d like. And I can order pizza.

The announcer is saying something about player #72 over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t tune in.

Joel types his reply and sends it:

Sounds perfect. I’ll come over around 7?

Sarah groans next to him. “You wanted to come to this game, dad. If you’re bored already, can we leave?”

His eyes shoot up. “No, uh – sorry. Just had to answer one text.”

Sarah narrows her eyes at him. They dart to the phone just as another message rolls in, your name flashing across the screen before Joel can hide it.

“Is that my professor?”

Joel doesn’t answer. His silence confirms enough.

“I knew you guys hit it off last night! See, dad, even though you didn’t wanna tell me at breakfast, I still found out. I always find out. Because Sarah knows all.” She attempts a maniacal, Disney villain-esque laugh.

Joel raises an eyebrow at her.

“You done?”

“So you going out again later? Do I need to make your bed on the couch, or should I just not bother?”

He ignores her. Someone gets a touchdown and half the crowd goes wild. He doesn’t bother to check what team scored.

He opens your latest message, instead.

Perfect. See you then, Cowboy ;)

His breath hitches at the nickname, at the thought of you calling him that again in person. The thought of kissing you again, if you’ll let him.

He doesn’t catch who wins the game.

Joel arrives at your apartment at seven o’clock on the dot.

Punctual, you note.

He’s holding a bottle of wine, gripping the neck with long, calloused fingers.

“Know you said you had some already,” he says as he steps over the threshold. “Just didn’t wanna come empty handed.”

The sentiment takes you aback. You’re not exactly used to dates bringing you gifts, especially ones this expensive, if the minimalist yet fancy label is any indicator.

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the bottle from him. You can’t quite make out the name – something foreign, etched in cursive.

“‘ts Italian, I think,” he mumbles, as if he can read your mind.

Your eyes shift from the bottle to Joel, standing in front of you in his Carhartt jacket, brows furrowed, gaze trained on the floor at his feet.

“Thank you,” you say more genuinely this time.

Joel smiles appreciatively. You motion to the space behind you.

“Come in.”

You lead Joel to the kitchen, just off the entranceway, and place the bottle down on the counter, gently. You tuck yourself in the corner, leaning back to rest your arms on cool granite. Joel mirrors you against the adjacent island.

“How’s Sarah?” you ask. “Feeling any better?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing at his scruff. “She was askin’ about you. Saw me textin’ you.”

“Yeah – guess you couldn’t exactly hide this from her, staying at her apartment and all.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Guess not.”

You pop open the bottle of wine. Pour glasses for both of you. Then you order pizza: one cheese, one sausage and pepper. The person on the other end of the line tells you it’ll be thirty to forty minutes.

“Gonna be a bit of a wait,” you tell Joel when you hang up. “Busy night, I guess.”

He nods, takes a sip of wine, and then places the glass down, his eyes unmoving from yours.

You realize then that he’d been staring at you the entire time you were on the phone. The way he’s looking at you – gaze the same as the one from the bar last night when you’d straddled him – has you feeling suddenly nervous.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.

Oh.

You breathe out a laugh. It’s not funny – really, the opposite – but you hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. “Joel-” you’re going to say yes – fuck yes – but he interrupts you.

“Been dyin’ to since last night.” He’s so open, so earnest. It’s fucking hot.

“Joel,” you say again, louder this time. He freezes. His eyes widen, like he’s anticipating your answer.

“Please.”

It’s all he needs to hear. In an instant, he crosses the distance between you. He places his hands on the counter behind you, framing your body with his. You peer up at him and, fuck – he looks ravenous.

He kisses you – hard. His teeth crash against yours. It’s messy and hurried, but you don’t care – you want him closer, need him closer.

Your head swims with memories of the feeling of his bulge against your clothed core. The need to feel it again is all-consuming. You’re greedy for it. And with the time constraint, you don’t want to wait another second.

You pull back abruptly. Joel furrows his eyebrows where he looms over you, concerned.

“Joel,” you pant, “I need you.”

It takes him a second to compute what you’re asking. And then he’s nodding furiously.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, darlin’.”

You pull him back in with a hand at the back of his neck, digging your nails into the skin there. His tongue slips into your mouth with a groan. You’re minutely aware of him shrugging his jacket off, hearing the light thump it makes when it hits the linoleum. And then his hands are on you, wandering up and down your body like he needs to feel every inch of you. He tugs at the base of your t-shirt impatiently.

“Off,” he mumbles against your lips. You pull back only to do as he’s asked, and then you’re right back on him, sucking a bruise into the skin below his ear, your body claiming him subconsciously. His head falls back momentarily, revealing his bobbing throat. You scrape your teeth lightly along the skin there, eliciting a groan from Joel.

Your mouth continues exploring his neck as his fingers find the clasps of your bra, unhooking them quickly and tossing it aside. You don’t see where. You don’t really care – you’ll find it later.

He grabs your now-naked sides and steps back, pulling you with him. Then he turns you and pushes you back against the island.

He slaps the countertop behind you. “Up,” he breathes against your neck. You don’t argue. You don’t want to argue. You’re so used to being the one in charge, the one in control — right now you’re happy to bend to Joel’s will.

You grip the edge of the island with both hands and hoist yourself up so that you’re perched there, legs dangling.

Joel’s fingers immediately go to the button of your jeans, popping it open before moving to tug the zipper down. And then he’s helping you lift your hips so that he can pull them down and off. He adds them to the pile at his feet.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear splayed out on your kitchen counter in front of him. You feel like you should be self conscious, maybe even embarrassed by your depravity. But you can’t find it in you to be either, not when Joel is slotted between your legs, his dark eyes scanning over you hungrily. Showing you he needs you just as bad as you need him.

He rubs his hands over your thighs and up the sides of your body, mapping your curves with great concentration. “God damn,” he whispers, what seems to be, mostly to himself. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You whine pathetically. Your patience is growing thin.

He smirks up at you, likely seeing in your face how desperate you are for him right now.

“‘ts okay baby, I got you,” he coos, suddenly sinking to his knees in front of you. His hands move closer to your clothed pussy, but not quite there, tracing light circles along your inner thighs. Then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, sending your hips bucking off the counter, chasing him.

The coarse hair of his mustache scratches the skin surrounding where he sucks and bites. You don’t care. You just want to feel it lower, against your dripping folds.

“Please,” you breathe, shakily. Through hooded eyes, you catch Joel’s satisfied grin. You realize then that he loves this — making you beg for it, for him. It’s a dizzying contradiction to the way he was practically begging to kiss you just moments ago.

He presses a chaste kiss against your skin, his lips infuriatingly close to where you need them most.

“Whatcha need, darlin’?” he purrs. The vibration of his voice just next to your core has you spiraling.

“Need your mouth,” you cry. “Please.”

“Where?” He nips at you, half an inch closer to your swollen clit. You can feel his breath. Your cunt reactively clenches around nothing.

“On my pussy, Joel” you plead.

He pulls away from you completely, looks up at you with devilish eyes.

“Good girl.”

He dips one finger into the side of your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening core. “Damn baby, you’re soaked,” he drawls. You catch the hint of pride that tinges his voice.

“Please,” you beg again, your voice wanton and broken.

Joel gently pets your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb. The pressure he applies is feather-light, barely there. But still, after all the teasing, you can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes you.

He chuckles darkly. “Alright sweetheart, I know – enough teasin’.”

He hooks both index fingers in the top of your panties, pulling them down and off in one swift movement. And then his tongue is on you, exactly where you need it.

He holds you open with fingers digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he licks long, languid stripes from your leaking cunt up to your clit, over and over again until you’re a whimpering mess underneath him. You struggle to hold your weight up on your elbows, watching him as he works you with his mouth.

He’s so good at this – too good at this. You tell him as much, between broken moans.

“Sofuckinggood Joel – holy shit.”

You swear you can feel him smirk against your heat.

He buries his face into your cunt then, nose pressed against your clit, and swivels his head back and forth, coating his mustache and beard in your arousal. He groans against you, like this is getting him off just as much as you. It’s all so obscene, so filthy.

You’ve never had a man go down on you like this – like they actually enjoy it. But then again, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise, not when it’s Joel. You’ve quickly come to learn that he’s attentive in every sense of the word. Knows just what you want, what you need – evident by the way his lips latch back onto your clit when you keen for him.

He keeps his attention there, switching between suckling on it – which is enough to make you see stars on its own – and lapping at it with short, shallow flicks of his tongue. He experiments with different angles, licking at different spots on the bundle of nerves until he finds the one that makes you cry out, your babbles of there Joel, yes, right fucking there, don’t stop, letting him know exactly where to focus.

You feel yourself quickly hurtling toward the edge. You just need a little bit more to get you there.

“Fingers,” you pant. “Need your fingers in me.”

Two of his fingers are at your entrance before you can even blink. You’re so wet that he slides them in easily, curling them against your walls. He expertly finds your G-spot, massaging it as his tongue continues to lap at your clit.

You gasp at the combination. It’s so good – so much. “Oh my god Joel, I’m so close,” you cry.

He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even look at you. His eyes are closed in concentration, fingers and tongue unrelenting. He’s lost in your pussy. You can tell he’s not going to come up for air until he’s given you an orgasm.

And it doesn’t take much longer – one, two, three more strokes of his fingers and you’re cumming hard.

Your vision blurs and your ears ring in your head. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to hold you in place as you thrash against the countertop.

He fucks you through it, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continues to curl them against that spot, your clit throbbing against his tongue.

It is – without a doubt – the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.

He doesn’t stop when you’ve come down, eager to milk every last drop from your weeping cunt. The overstimulation is too much. Your grip tightens in his hair, weakly attempting to pull him off of you as you whimper nonsense above him. You manage to exhale his name, or something close to it, and he finally lifts his face.

His eyes meet yours, dark and hooded. He looks absolutely pussydrunk.

The entire lower half of his face is soaked with your slick. His shiny, pink lips pepper kisses along your inner thighs, smoothing over the spots he’d marked with his teeth just minutes ago. You feel so sensitive – you shiver under his touch.

His smile curves into your skin. He leaves one last light peck and stands up, grunting at the ache in his knees. You laugh, but you can tell by the darkness still looming in his gaze that he’s not done with you yet.

He helps you off the counter, steadying you with hands gripping your sides as you find your footing. Your legs feel like Jell-O, a welcomed side-effect of the earth-shattering orgasm you’ve just had. You lead Joel to your bedroom, leaving your clothes scattered across the kitchen floor.

He backs you toward the bed as soon as you’re in your room, lips latched to the side of your neck. The backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he’s lowering both of your bodies onto it, cradling your head in his hand as you settle underneath him.

He sits back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal his broad, tan torso. You’re pretty sure you’re salivating, lost in the slope of his shoulders and the wide expanse of his chest. Your eyes trail lower as he undoes his belt, followed by the button of his jeans. He shimmies them off along with his boxers, his large cock springing free, tip shiny with pre-cum, and hovers back over your eager body.

He dips down and presses his lips to yours, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He’s remarkably patient for how hard he is, his erection pressing into your thigh as he kisses you, slow and wet.

One of his hands grips your jaw, the other pressed firmly against the mattress next to you. Minutes pass like that, you and Joel losing yourselves in each other. Then you remember that you don’t have all the time in the world – that your delivery driver could get here any minute. In truth, you’re not even fucking hungry anymore – not for pizza, anyway.

You snake your hand up to the back of Joel’s head, pulling at his roots lightly. “Joel,” you breathe when he lifts off of you, “please fuck me.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice.

“How do you want it, baby?” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath skating over your skin. “How do you like it?”

You breathe out a moan. No man has ever asked you how you like it. They usually just give you a few sloppy, ill-timed thrusts, whatever they can muster before cumming and leaving you unsatisfied.

But Joel isn’t just any man.

“Hard,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

He growls, low and dark. “‘ts right, sweetheart.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, rutting against your folds a few times to gather some of your wetness with the tip of his cock.

Then he sinks into you, slowly, stretching your walls as he notches further and further in. There’s a sweet, stinging pain, one you hope, fleetingly, that you’ll be able to feel tomorrow – like a keepsake from him.

You sigh when he reaches the hilt, his tip nudging your cervix. He stills, letting you get used to his girth and you have to dig your nails into his back to keep from writhing under him. You don’t mind if it hurts – you just need him to move.

“Please,” you whine, unable to stop your hips from bucking any longer. “I can take it, Joel.”

“Know you can, baby,” he coos, beginning to rock slowly inside of you. The pleasure is immediate, washing over your body like a warm wave.

He picks up the pace when he’s sure it feels good for you, dragging his cock halfway out of you and thrusting back in, over and over again.

He grabs both of your legs, bending them so that you’re spread wide open for him, and grips the backs of your knees tightly as he slams into you. He can get so much deeper like this, his cock hitting a spot you didn’t even know you had. You let out a labored moan, fingers anchored into his delts.

“Talk to me darlin — tell me how it feels,” he pants.

“So – fuck, Joel – so fucking good.”

Joel drops his mouth to your shoulder, nips at the skin there.

His voice is in your ear, a low snarl.

“‘Better than that fuckin ex, I bet.”

You’d be annoyed by his cockiness – if he wasn’t so right.

But he is, and so you parrot, “So much better.” And then, because it’s the truth, you add, “the best.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hips stuttering at your words. “Can’t say that angel, you’ll make me cum.”

He pulls out and slams back into you again, setting a new, devastating pace. He fills you up just to leave you empty, over and over again. You’re a babbling mess underneath him, couldn’t string two more words together if you tried. Luckily, Joel is happy to take over and do the talking.

“So fuckin’ pretty, babygirl. Make the most gorgeous noises, too.”

You’re so fucking close, you can only whimper in response. You feel your walls tighten around him.

He presses your foreheads together, his sweaty curls sticking to your skin. His eyes bore into yours.

“C’mon baby, show me – show me how pretty ya are when ya cum on this cock.”

He brings one hand down to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles over it as he continues spearing into you. You hike your newly-freed leg up over his lower back. A white heat licks at your spine. You barely have time to tell Joel you’re about to cum, your warning coming out a single cry of his name. He gets it, though, bringing you over the edge with his words.

“I got you, baby, I got you; you can let go.”

Your orgasm barrels through you, from the tips of your toes all the way up to your ears. Joel doesn’t let up his ministrations, talking you through it as you writhe under him.

“Thaaaats it. Good – ahh – good fuckin’ girl.”

The only word you can think of in your state of euphoria is his name, chants of Joel, Joel, Joel spilling from the back of your throat as you cum.

You’re squeezing his cock through your aftershocks, and you can tell he’s close by the way his thrusts become more and more uneven.

“Fuck – where do you want it?” he braces both palms against the mattress on either side of you.

“Inside – please, Joel,” you beg. “I’m on the pill.”

He curses in ecstasy, cumming seconds later with a series of low grunts. His hips stall as he spills inside of you. There’s so much of it – he’s nearly drowning your cervix, coating your walls with rope after rope of his spend.

He softens inside you, staying there for a long moment as you both come down from your highs. You’re sweaty, panting messes, and you can’t help but giggle at how spent you both sound.

“Good?” he asks, nosing at the space just below your jaw. It’s so soft, so gentle. Your stomach does a backflip.

“Yeah,” you say. “Really fucking good.”

He pulls out of you with a low, guttural noise. You sigh at the loss of him, your hand coming down reflexively to feel where he’s leaking out of you. His fingers graze yours, and he bumps them aside to scoop up some of your combined fluids.

He brings his wet, sticky fingers to your lips, humming when you immediately take them into your mouth and suck them clean, eyes unmoving from his the entire time. You bat your eyelashes at him, innocently as he pulls them out with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he curses, “gonna get me hard again, angel.”

He lays down next to you, letting his head thump against the pillow, and flexes his biceps behind his head. You kind of hope he does get hard again, despite the fact that your whole body feels like liquid. Like if you were to try and stand, your legs would most definitely give out on you. They’re trembling right now, where you have them half-bent, heels dug into the mattress.

Your phone rings, then, snapping you out of your post-coital bliss. Fuck – the pizza.

You answer, trying your best to hide the undeniably fucked-out lilt of your voice as you tell the delivery person that someone will be right down.

Joel laughs next to you when you hang up. “I’ll get it – hold on.”

He jumps out of bed and dresses quickly. You’re gawking at him as he does. You can’t help it. This man – probably the hottest man you’ve ever seen – was just inside of you. You want to pat yourself on the back. He notices you staring as he’s zipping up his jeans and shoots you a wink.

Joel deadbolts your front door and disappears into the hallway. He returns moments later, shutting and re-locking the door, and strides back into your bedroom with both boxes. You can see the steam coming off of them through the cardboard.

He sets them down by your feet.

“In bed?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard.

“Well I’m not sure you can walk to the kitchen, darlin’.”

Your face heats. He has a point. But he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. You roll your eyes at him and mumble something nonsensical under your breath as you tuck yourself in under your duvet.

“What was that?” He quirks an eyebrow.

Long gone is the shy Joel from earlier this evening. He knows your body now, knows how hard he makes you cum. He’s a whole different man post-coitus – bolder. It makes you damn near melt.

And maybe you’re different now too. Because you’re pretty sure you’d give up your vow of solitude for him, if he asked.

It’s crazy, probably. You’ve only known Joel for two days, after all. But you can’t help the way that he ( and his dick) makes you feel. Like maybe there’s a promise of something down the line, however serious that something may be. You just know you want to give yourself the opportunity to experience it, no matter how it ends.

“Nothing.” You break, grin pulling tight at the corners of your mouth. “Just get me a slice of cheese.”

He lets his gaze linger for a second longer, the faux-threat of it heating you from the inside out. And then he’s vanishing into the kitchen, returning with two plates and a stack of paper towels.

He dishes up slices for the both of you, climbing into bed next to you and handing over yours.

He settles in with a content sigh.

You both eat in happy silence for a few minutes, Joel giving you a satisfied nod when he finishes up his first slice. “‘ts good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Right?” you retort. “It’s my favorite pizza around here.”

He hums in agreement. Pulls the box of sausage and pepper onto his lap to grab another slice.

“So,” you start, “you’re heading home tomorrow?” It’s more of a statement than a question. You know he is. But still, part of you wants Joel to say no, tell you that he’s canceled his flight, that he’s decided to stick around for a bit longer.

“Yeah,” he says. You feel your heart sink. You silently curse yourself for being delusional.

“Are you excited?” you try. “To be home?”

He doesn’t respond right away – his forehead wrinkling and his lips falling into a small frown. You watch as he thinks on it.

“Not really,” he admits after a few seconds.

“I know you’ll miss Sarah,” you say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.

He peers down at you with a heavy sigh. “So much…” His voice trails off, like there’s something else he wants to add, but can’t.

The air feels thick, suddenly – heavy. You try your best to lighten it.

“Can’t stay a bit longer? Let Tommy run things for a while?”

“No,” he laughs. “Pretty sure he’ll just end up screwin’ every client we got.”

“And you’d end up screwing every one of Sarah’s professors,” you tease.

His mouth falls open in mock-offense. He grabs at both your sides, suddenly, letting the open box of pizza slide off of his lap and onto the bed. He tickles relentlessly just under your ribs, causing you to squeal and squirm under his grip.

“Joel,” you cry in between fits of laughter. “Stop!”

“I don’t think so, darlin’,” he tuts. He removes one of hands momentarily, to toss your plate aside, and then he’s hooking one of his legs over your body, straddling you. He looks so big like this, his body hanging over yours. You feel content – safe. His hands release you, finally, coming to settle on either side of your head on your pillow. You blink up at him. He’s staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“Nothin,” he mumbles. “‘ts just, I wouldn’t, ya know. Sleep with anyone else, I mean. If you didn’t want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You know that if you respond, it’ll come out way too eager. So you just blink at him again.

“Would you want to keep talkin’ after I get home?”

Yes, you want to say. Please. I don’t think I could go on without knowing if I’ll get to see you again – fuck you again.

You swallow. Collect yourself.

“Yeah. I would.”

You shimmy under Joel so that you can sit up. He straightens out, shifting his weight onto his knees. Takes both of your hands in his and pulls you up.

His eyes are still locked on yours. “I know we just met this weekend,” he says. “But I had a lot’a fun with you. I like you.”

Your cheeks warm. “I like you too, Joel.”

He smiles. “‘m glad.”

“Doesn’t have to be anythin’ serious,” he continues. Lets his fingers trace aimlessly along the inside of your arm. “We can jus’ see where it goes.”

“Yeah,” you nod, your heart squeezing in your chest. “See where it goes. I like that.”

And it’s the truth. You do. In the stillness, your legs tucked under the covers, Joel caressing you, you feel, for the first time in a long time, happy to not be alone. And you know you will be again, very soon, when Joel leaves to go back home. But then again, you won’t – not really. His voice will be there, a phone call away, and his body will be there, in the divot he’s left in your mattress. And you’ll have the promise of taking this slow, seeing where it goes.

You’ve never been so excited for the future.

end notes: tysm for reading! I may turn this into a series if people want more of these two <3 lmk hehe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel x reader #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #fiiyb

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writingsbychlo · 7 months

Text

LAST NIGHT | mattheo riddle

summary; on again, off again, you and mattheo have always gone round and round in circles, but this is the last time.

word count; 3962

notes; based on this song! my first ever mattheo fic, or even slytherin boy fic, so hope you enjoy, sorry if it sucks lmao <3

“I’m done, Mattheo!” Your voice bounced off the walls, giving the half-arsed silencing spell you’d cast two hours ago a run for its money. “I’m fed up of this. I’m fed up of your attitude, and your bullshit, and the way you just don’t seem to care about anything!”

“Oh, you’re done?” He mocks, bringing the cigarette back to his lips as he sits on the windowsill, rolling his eyes and blowing smoke out into the night air.

“Yes, I’m done.”

“Bullshit. You say that every other week. What is this, our fourth breakup this year? Fifth?” Stubbing out what was left on the stone wall, he flicked the butt out into the darkness, finally swinging his legs back to the floor and turning to face you. “You had no problem with my carefree attitude and my bullshit and my laidback nature when we started dating. Why are you throwing a hissy fit now, what’s this really about, huh?”

Your jaw clenched, clenched so hard it hurt. He smirked at that, wider when your fists balled by your sides, and he took an arrogant swig of the firewhiskey the two of you had been splitting. The very drink that had given you the courage to do this in the first place.

“Nothing to say, then? That’s what I thought.”

“Mattheo—”

“Storm your pretty arse out the door, love. Slam it, like you always do. You’ll come back in the middle of the night, like you always do, and I’ll be here waiting for you.” A lump caught in your throat, and the fiery anger in your body settled into a cool rage.

“It’s different this time, Mattheo. When we started dating in the fifth year, nothing but having a date to Yule Ball mattered, but we’re two months from graduation, and you— you’re hopeless. We’re hopeless.” His brows pinched, a snarl taking over his features at your harsh words and the small seed of victory was squashed by the tension building in the air. “You won’t tell me anything about our future, about your own and if I even have a place in it. You won’t make plans, you’re barely even passing your classes and you don’t care. It’s been years, Matt, and you still treat me like I’m just some fun.”

“Exclusive fun. At least I’m not sleeping with anyone else.” He smirked again around the words, throat bobbing as he swigged at the whiskey, a golden drop leaking down his chin and your hands itched to wipe it away. “You knew who I was when we met.”

“Yes, I did.” Your voice cracked, and just like that, a gaping cavern seemed to split through all those emotions, leaving a feeling of hollow, cold numbness to fill your chest in its place. So wide it was dark, echoes of feelings bouncing on stone walls, and you rubbed over your chest. “But I wish you were someone I never met.”

Silence filled the space between you both, airtight like the oxygen was starting to thin. “You wish I was someone you never met?”

“Yes.” Your voice shook even as you said it, the glass bottle clinked on the stone ledge as he set the bottle down. His shoes scuffed on the floor, as he made his way over to you, long strides that you matched backwards, until your back was pressed to the door. “Mattheo.”

His hands slammed onto the wood on either side of you, crowding you until your noses were brushing, the warmth of his body seeping into you. His voice was like a growl, skittering along your body like a reverberation as he spoke, “You wish you never met me?”

“I didn’t—”

“No. You didn’t.” He cut you off, your shoulders slumping in defeat as that red in his gaze took over. There was no sentience now, nothing to be said, not as your hand slipped across the wood towards the doorknob behind you. The time for talking was over, there was nothing left to be said now.

He was right.

He knew you far too well. Just like every other time, you wanted to storm out, slamming the door and cursing his name, promising you’d never go back. Just like every other time, you’d end up coming back to him, over and over again, a vicious circle where you crawl back into his bed, and he whispers sweet things in your ear that never come true, and you go on like it never happened.

Over and over and over.

You released the doorknob, his eyes searching your own, and instead, you gripped his jaw. He startled, even more when you yanked his mouth down to yours, hands sliding around until you were pulling yourself up to his height. He groaned, a deep sound as his mouth opened against your own, wet and needy with desperate kisses.

His body collapsed against yours, pinning you to the door, only interrupted by his own arms sliding around your waist, bodies flush and racing hearts pounding together through your chests.

“See, isn’t this so much better?” He muttered, nipping at your lower lip as your head tipped back to rest on the wood, his mouth beginning to make tracks along your jaw instead. “When you just shut up and stop overthinking, and let things go how they work, huh?”

That same hot mouth continued its path, your breath shallowing as he kissed down and down, wet tongue licking across your collarbones and the swell of your tits. Rough hands pushed up at your shirt, bunching the fabric up as your shaky hands attempted to undo the buttons, falling into every touch and lie that came from his mouth.

Just like always, you fell into his trap, like a bee to honey, he knew every weakness. Dropping to his knees before you, pretty brown eyes all but sparkled as he smirked up, glittering with victory. His tongue laved over the soft skin below your belly button, tracing the edge of your skirt, fingers toying with the hem line when your own laced into the soft brown curls, pushing them back.

“Matty…”

“That’s right, baby.” Another wet kiss to your stomach, one sensual enough to leave your back arching against the wood, pushing closer to him as his hands dipped under the skirt to find the sides of your panties. Peeling them slowly down your legs, he propped his chin on the soft pudge of your stomach, peering up. “The only thing that mouth should be screaming at me is prayers to God and begs of my name.”

Your scoff was lost to a moan as he slapped the tender back of one thigh, skin stinging, the welts that would be left by the cold rings decorating his fingers only made you tremble with further excitement, further need. Need for him, desperation for the man who knew you so well, like the back of his hand. Every touch, every tell, every weakness exploited was by design and knowledge.

“You want my mouth, baby? Say it. Tell me what you want.” A nip to the inside of one thigh, delicate skin abused by teeth and lips, a bruise there he would leave so proudly.

“I want your mouth.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Tell me, who would make you come like I can if you left me, huh?”

A retort sat on the tip of your tongue, stinging words with a bitter bite, ready to chew his head off once more for his arrogance, but it all died away as your head thumped back on the door. His tongue swept through your folds, head hidden under the pleats of your skirt as he lapped from your entrance to your clit, hot breath fanning across your sensitive skin as he moaned.

He wasn’t gentle, nor was he patient, not as he set to work on something he enjoyed just as much as you did. His tongue worked you over, your thighs trembling on either side of his head as he licked and swirled, fingers sliding up the sides of your legs. You didn’t want to speak, to give him the satisfaction of rewarding him for his effort, teeth sinking into your lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet.

He took it as the challenge it was, growling against your core, the vibrations shaking along your spine and lighting you up like fireworks in the crisp night air, sparking you to life like a fuse. He doubled down on his efforts, wet and messy, pulling on every trick he knew you loved, tongue sinking into your hole just to pull back as you clenched, teasing and taunting until you were dizzy.

Sucking on your clit until your knees shook, almost threatening to give way, he sank one finger into your dripping cunt, and your pledge for silence gave way, a loud cry slipping from you and bouncing around the room. He nipped at your sensitive clit to celebrate his own victory, a squeaky sound escaping at the sensation, and your nails scratched into the wood of the door, doubtless leaving claw-marks he’d never let you live down.

That one finger became two, scissoring and curling until you could no longer take it, exploding around his digits with frantic rolls of your hips into his hand. He let you ride it out, never letting up, never stopping his assault, your body spasming under his hold until he was pulling back, other hand pinning your hips to the door.

Your legs finally gave way, only held up by the support of his body as he kept you locked where you were, slamming those fingers in and out of you until you were begging. Begging for another release, begging for reprieve, begging for anything at all, as he barrelled you towards another orgasm.

When this one struck it was with a scream, with a burning heat so intense you thought your clothes might turn to ash on your very skin, melt away into nothing the same way every thought in your head had managed to do.

He finally pulled back, slick and shining fingers going straight to his mouth as his body supported your own, one hand slipping to your hip and holding you tight, steadying you against the door until your shaking breaths evened out.

The taste of yourself was still on his tongue as his mouth crashed into your own, your shaking hands nothing like his steady ones as the two of you tore at one another’s clothing, stumbling together in a tangle of limbs and kisses towards the bed. Stripping on another of clothes in rough movements and angry tugs and rips, until you were bare, his hot cock pressing to your stomach, smearing precum over your skin and letting you know just how much he wanted you.

He may have you fucked stupid, wrapped around his little finger, but at least you knew you had him in that same helpless grip.

Reaching between your bodies and taking his hard cock in hand, he let out a stuttered moan at the first pump, the drag of his flesh in your hand, precum spilling out over your fingers in a sticky trail. His need tasted like sin on your lips, your name a mumbled praise that sounded like a curse as you pumped him slowly, his hands flexing so tightly on your hips they’d no doubt leave tainted marks.

“Fucking hell, baby. Gonna’ fuck you so good, gonna’ fuck you ‘til you remember some sense, ‘til you’re screaming the way only I can make you.” With one rough shove, you were spilling out across his mattress, gripping the sheets with your fingertips as he crawled up and over you.

A quick movement and you were flipped, finding yourself face down into the bedsheets, his weight pressing into you at every angle from above, and then—

Then the stretch, the slow drag as he sank into you, joint moans as he gave you no time to adjust. The burning rage in his veins drove him into you until your hips sat snugly together, his throbbing cock stretching out every wall within you to that delicious brink between pleasure and pain.

“Fuck, Mattheo…”

“Don’t say my name again tonight unless you’re fucking screaming it.” He pulled back, snapping his hips into your own with such brutality that the sound echoed around the room, your fingers screwed into the sheets practically turning white-knuckled with how your body tensed and shuddered. He did it again and again, slamming into you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs every time. “I’m still so goddamn mad at you, but you’re just too hot when you yell at me.”

“Fuck you.” Your words didn’t have nearly as much vitriol as you wanted, not when they were muttered out into the sheets as your face pressed into them, drool on your lips from every slam of his cock into you. He caught them though, fingers lacing into your hair and yanking your head up, the pace never slowing, even as his body covered your own, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I already am, sweetheart. You just can’t help yourself, giving yourself over to me even when you’re mad. My pretty little slut.”

A particularly sharp thrust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as every other feeling seemed to melt away until only the pound of his hips into your own was left. You could feel him everywhere, outside and inside, as he filled your every thought and every cell. It had always been like this, utterly intoxicating with him since that very first kiss, the moment those captivating eyes had locked on your own and you’d been tangled in the web that was Mattheo Riddle.

The first scream slipped free from your lips as his hand came down across your arse with a slap, a condescending chuckle followed it and he rewarded you with an extra hard squeeze. Driving into you with renewed force, he left a matching handprint on the other side, and you cried out his name with cracked voice. “That’s right, fucking take what I give you.”

“Mattheo!”

His name was like a chant now, unstoppable as pleasure swelled and built inside of you, brain going foggy and his name the only thing that was clear, His touch was grounding but his kisses were like a drug, trailed along your shoulder and spine as he smothered you into the mattress, tears building in your eyes with the delicious overwhelm of it all.

Trembling, shaking, your body was hardly your own as you squirmed beneath him, pushed down into the bed as tears wet the sheets from your eyes, used like a whore and loving every second of it.

Another peak was building, the tangling in your stomach a telltale sign as your body tensed under his touch, like an instrument he knew just how to play as his fingers skated along your body, tweaking nipples and travelling down to your clit, harsh circles rubbed into the swollen bud.

With only a couple of unsteady circles, you exploded, screaming his name just as he promised you would heat flaring through you, sweat slick between your bodies.

His lips left sloppy kisses along your neck as he never let up, only stopping enough to pull back, and leave you for just a second as a trembling mess on the sheets. Long enough to flip you over, to push your knees up until they were almost to your chest, hooked over his shoulders as he sank back into your wetness.

Your hands were shaking, coming up to grip at his biceps, half-lidded gaze locked on that fiery stare of his own, even when his forehead came down to press to your own. Your nails tore welts into his arm, a pleasured hiss on his lips and his hips stuttered, lips tugging up at the edges in a pain-fuelled smirk of sheer bliss.

“God, look at you. My perfect girl, and this perfect pussy grippin’ me so good. I fucking love you, and you love me.” You could only muster a whine in reply, arching your back until your nipples brushed his chest, the added stimulation making your eyes roll back in your head, shuddering right down to every last nerve you had.

“Mattheo…” Your voice was raw, unable to scream anymore, and a sick gratification flashed over his features, open mouth brushing yours, letting you swallow every moan he let out.

His hips rolled, the fluttering and spasming of your inner walls sending him toppling over the edge, and with one last rough stutter of his hips into you he stilled. Bracketed between your thighs his weight collapsed atop you, heat flooding your core as he spilled into you, pump after pump, the aftershocks of your orgasm reigniting a little at the feeling, drawing out until you tingled right down to your fingertips.

If you’d had any strength at all, any ability to even move, you’d shove him off of you, roll away from him out of his grip. Instead, he lay against you, panting, tracing his fingertips softly up and down your ribs in that way he knew you loved, until he’d gained enough of his own strength to push himself up.

A whimper slipped free from your lips as he pulled out, wetness leaking from you immediately in his absence, goosebumps covering your skin as his body peeled away from your own. Kneeling back between your aching thighs, Mattheo’s lips twisted in a cruel smirk as he eyed the mess he’d left between your thighs, only growling at the embarrassed flush that covered your body as you attempted to snap your legs shut.

That burning look of anger and passion still flared somewhat in his eyes, no longer a blazing inferno but lingering enough like smouldering ashes, and he barely bothered to reach over the side of the bed and snatch up his abandoned shirt, tossing it onto your chest for you to clean yourself up. He collapsed down onto the bed beside you, a satisfied sigh escaping him as he propped one bent arm behind his head, rolling onto his side and watching you mop between your thighs with amusement, snickering at the sensitive gasps that occasionally slipped free.

When you were done, his arm snaked over your waist, tugging you closer to face him as you tossed the ruined shirt down onto the floor somewhere to be cared for later. Sometimes he’d light up a cigarette at this moment, in others, he’d pull the hidden bottle of firewhiskey from under his mattress and take a mouthful. Today was one of the rare occasions when he did neither, settling into your side with a smile on his face, eyes slipping closed and he nuzzled half of his face into the pillow on your side.

Your eyes remained open, though. Studying him. It was no wonder you had caved so many times, no wonder it had been so easy every other time to fall into his arms, to believe all his embellished promises and pretty words. So easy to stay, when he looked like an angel, innocent and sweet and kind, with half a smile on his face and an adorably possessive arm over your waist as you cuddled into him. It was just like every other time you’d caved to him.

But not this time.

No, for once, you’d be strong. You’d endure the pain of leaving him, endure the suffering of being without him if it meant being happy, being healthy, being the kind of woman a daughter could look up to one day. You would never let your own child, your friends or family endure this kind of toxicity, so why did you continue to allow it for yourself?

No more handsome smiles and golden eyes drawing you back in.

It was as you were making this decision, taking a bracing, deep breath, that his eyes cracked back open, focusing on where you lay mere centimetres from him. Staring at you from a shared spot on the same pillow, he gave a hint of a smile in the dim lighting of the room, eyes sparkling, like things might really be different this time.

You’d fallen for it one too many times.

His lips puckered slightly, expectant for a kiss, and your own lips pressed together, resisting the urge to find his. Instead, you rolled over, throat stinging and eyes burning as you faced away from him, sliding out of the bed. The stone was cold under your feet as they hit the floor, every step from the comforting warmth of the sheets was like stepping into the Arctic.

“Why are you not in bed right now?” Mattheo groaned, and you heard the sheets rustle as you gathered your clothes. He rolled in the bed, clutching a pillow to his chest instead, an amused look on his face. “You don’t need clothes, I’ll keep you plenty warm.”

Tugging on your shirt, you only bothered with two buttons, his brows rising and smile beginning to dim, as you tugged on your skirt and yanked up the zip. Socks didn’t matter, nor did your tie, shoving them into the pockets of your robe, and he propped himself up among the pillows.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“This again?” He said, still not taking you seriously. His messy hair, swollen lips, those pretty brown eyes, it was all so hard to resist. The frown on his face, the disbelief in your conviction, less so. “Stop being ridiculous and come back here. You’ve made your point, I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Whatever.”

“No, Mattheo. That’s just it.” Finding your shoes and scooping them up, your toes flexed on the cold floor, a protest at the cold, but you’d make it back to your room before they got frostbite. “You won’t change. You never change. I’m not doing this again.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“Yes, and you were right.” His eyes narrowed, confusion flashing over his face at your concession. “I always leave, and right about this time, I always come back, and crawl into your bed, and I’m not doing this again. This time it’s different. This time it’s over, Mattheo.”

“It can’t be over.”

“But it is. This is the best decision for us both, really.”

“I think I should have been part of a decision that's in my interests, then!” He burst, scrambling across the sheets and standing himself, beginning to tug on his own clothes. “We’re not over. We can’t be, you don’t mean that.”

“Mattheo, stop.” He did, pants sitting low on his hips, unbuttoned as his hands fell slack to his sides instead. “Just, give it some thought. You’ll see, I’m right.”

“You’re not right.”

“Sleep on it.” You couldn't do it anymore, any longer and you’d give in like always, fall into his arms and let him temporarily kiss it better.

“I’m still gonna’ wake up wanting you and me.”

You sighed, hand closing around the door handle again. This time, you had the strength to open it. For once, you truly felt like he was listening to you, like the threat of leaving was at last finding its home within him. He was hearing it.

“Don’t leave.” He whispered as you stepped into the hall, the silencing spell crumbling around you as you left the bubble, and the sounds of the world came crashing back in. The howl of the wind outside, the shuffle of midnight wanderers in the common room, and owls hooting to the moon, all fill the empty space. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”

“Become something worth staying for, and I’ll keep loving you too.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #mattheo riddle x reader smut #mattheo riddle/reader smut #slytherin boys #harry potter #benjamin wadsworth x reader #benjamin wadsworth/reader

2K notes · View notes

starlitmark · 4 months

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Summary: Just as you get back on your feet after a nasty breakup, you see your ex out in public with his new girlfriend. What will you do to avoid an awkward encounter? Pairing: Jongho x fem!reader Tropes: strangers to lovers, fake dating au, Genre: fluff, angst Rating: PG Warnings: mentions of breakups, mentions of cheating, language, a brief moment of nudity (for changing), kissing Word Count: 5,496 Note: for @cultofdionysusnet Mocha Madness event! Thank you to @anyamaris and @sanjoongie for beta reading this and listening to my panic!! This has been a WIP for over 2 years now so FINALLY it's released!

Before You Interact

Prompt: You sit at the table with a random boy you see sitting at a cafe or something alone and say, “Kiss me,” and he replies, “Hi, nice to meet you too. My name is ___,” and then you explain that your ex is right there with the side piece he cheated on you with and this boy agrees ‘cause you to seem really serious about this. Ex approaches and starts questioning you, but somehow, this random guy gets him off your back. You start hanging out, faking a relationship in front of your ex whenever you see him, but the actual feelings develop. - given by @jaehunnyy

You had finally gotten back to going out after your ex left you. It had been a few months, but it took a while to get back in the swing of things with how that breakup went. You had gone to your boyfriend’s apartment to surprise him and found another girl in his lap kissing him. He was so shameless about it, too. He tried to introduce you to her and have you be friends. You push the memory out of your head as you walk down the sidewalk, it’s a beautiful day, and you were going to take advantage of it. You were walking along one of your town’s major routes lined with little cafes, restaurants, and stores. You enjoy the spring breeze and sunshine on your skin, breathing in the sweet smell of blooming flowers. You finally felt ready to face the world head-on and return to a routine. That’s when you saw them: your ex and his new girlfriend. You feel your heart race and suddenly sit in front of a random young man in one of the cafe’s outdoor seating areas.

“Kiss me.” you tell him.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too! My name is Jongho.” he says with a sarcastic smile.

You sigh, “Please, my ex is walking this way. He’s with his new girlfriend, the side piece he cheated on me with. I don’t want to deal with the confrontation. I’ll pay for your food. Please kiss me, and I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

He gives you a confused look at first, then leans forward, inches from your lips, “That all depends on how good of a kisser you are.” he whispers.

Suddenly, his lips are on yours, and you nearly melt onto the cement beneath you. You had no idea what to expect from him, so when you feel his soft, pillowy lips against yours, you can’t help but lose your breath. His right hand holds your face gently. They’re slightly calloused but not enough to annoy you. When you pull back, you hear your name called by the last person you want to hear say it.

“Just follow my lead,” you whisper to Jongho, “Hi, Wooyoung!” you fake a smile, “How have you been?” “Pretty good. It’s been a few months now, hasn’t it?”

“Mhm.” you reply with a tight-lipped smile, “Oh, this is Jongho, my boyfriend.”

He holds one of your hands across the table, seeing as how you introduced him. His other hand reached out to shake Wooyoung’s hand. Then, releasing his new girlfriend’s hand, he shakes hands with who he assumes is your new boyfriend.

“It’s nice to meet you. This is my girlfriend, Miyeon.” he smiles brightly, looking back at her.

“It’s nice to meet you.” she sweetly greets you, “Wooyoung has told me a lot about you.”

You cannot help but feel slightly attacked by how she makes her latter comment. She knew much more about you than she would admit in front of your “boyfriend”. She had been a side piece for six months before you found out. She was lying through her teeth, and she and Wooyoung knew it. You subconsciously squeeze Jongho’s hand, and he immediately notices your slight discomfort. He squeezes your hand back, and only then do you notice that you’re squeezing his. He gives you a reassuring smile, and you suddenly feel comfortable with him, as if you’ve known each other for years.

“I hate to cut this short, but we’re in the middle of a date here.” Jongho smiles fakely.

Wooyoung looks taken aback a bit but smiles back, fakely, “Sorry, how about a double date sometime though? You comfortable with that, Miyeon?” she smiles and nods at him, “You too?” he questions you.

When you don’t respond, Jongho tries to gain your attention, “Sweetheart, you okay?”

“Y-yeah.” you stutter, “Sounds lovely. When were you thinking?”

“We were going to have an at-home date later this week. You two want to crash that?” “You okay with that, baby?” Jongho questions you this time, and you nearly melt hearing his low voice calling you that. “Yeah, same address?” “Same address. I’ll text you the details. You have the same number, right?” Wooyoung confirms, with Miyeon clung to his arm much tighter than before.

“Same number… I’ll just have to unblock you first.” you say with a subtle bite.

“See you later then.” he smiles awkwardly.

The moment they walk far enough away, you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Then, hearing Jongho call your name throws you off. You look back at him and see his worried look. His thumb runs over the back of your hand across your knuckles, letting you take your time to process what just happened. Then, when you fully come back to your senses, you nearly panic.

“Oh my god, Jongho, I’m so sorry! I was just trying to get him to leave me alone, but now you got dragged into another thing with me, a complete stranger.” you ramble.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay, let’s just take this time now to get to know each other, and then I don’t mind being your fake boyfriend around them. You seem fun.” he smiles softly.

“What’s in it for you?” you ask skeptically.

“I could use some excitement in my life.” He shrugs, “My friend has been trying to get me to go on blind dates nonstop for like a month, too.”

You end up agreeing to his deal. You two stay there and get to know each other for a few hours. You find out he’s currently in university, majoring in early childhood education and minoring in music. He also works part-time at the little hole-in-the-wall book store downtown when he doesn’t have classes. As you continue to talk, you forget about the passing of time. You’re genuinely having a good time with him. It isn’t until a random storm comes rolling that you process how long you’ve been sitting at the cafe. You sit there in shock for a few seconds, just looking at each other until the rain gets heavier. You have a silent conversation then, running into the building, you find yourself at the front counter.

“Oh, let me pay for your food and coffee. I owe you at least that.” you offer.

He smiles at you, and you nearly melt with his gorgeous looks. You knew he was attractive when you sat down in front of him for the first time (you lucked out there), but now, seeing him with a bright smile and hair wet from the rain, your breath gets stolen from your lungs. Your mind returns to just how nice his kiss felt. You can’t help but wish you could feel it again. Of course, it likely won’t happen again, but you can dream.

“Don’t worry about it. I enjoyed spending time with you.” he smiles softly.

“Jongho, I roped you in pretending to be my boyfriend, lying to my ex and his new girlfriend, and kissing a stranger-”

He interrupted you, “And I don’t mind paying for my food. You made up for all that and more by spending time with me.”

You huff, slightly annoyed he wouldn’t let you at least pay for the items as an apology. He chuckles at your reaction before walking to the counter to pay. While you wait, you notice how the rain only got heavier. You had walked here. There was no way it would ease up anytime soon. You seemed to be stuck here for a while now. Finally, you’re dragged out of your thoughts when someone nudges you. Looking over, you see Jongho. He looks at you, out the door at the rain, and back to you again.

“Do you live far away?”

“No, but I walked here, and it takes about 20 minutes to walk here on a light foot traffic day.”

“Do you want to stay at mine for a little bit?” he offers.

“What?”

“Just until the rain stops. I can drive you home after, too. I just live down the street.”

You think for a minute, just looking at him, “How do I know you’re not a creep or murderer?” you say, teasing slightly.

He just chuckles and comments how you were the one who kissed him first. Ultimately, you end up nodding, accepting his offer. You both look outside at the rain and then at each other. There were no words exchanged between you, but somehow you both knew. He took your hand and pulled you out of the cafe into the heavy rain outside. You don’t stop to think or let go of his hand. If anything, you’re enjoying the spontaneity of it all. You feel relatively safe with him despite only meeting a few hours ago. The rain beats down on your skin, and your hair sticks to your body, but you couldn’t care less. Before you realize it, you’re being pulled into an apartment complex. Running inside and upstairs, you laugh in the hallway, dripping wet.

“Oh? Who’s this Jongho?” You hear an elderly woman’s voice.

“Hello, Mrs. Kang, just a guest.” He says offhandedly, smiling at her.

She lets out a slight hum, noticing how Jongho is fumbling with his keys, “Just keep it down.” She teases.

“Mrs. Kang,” he awkwardly chuckles, “it’s not like that. I’m just being kind and letting her stay out of the rain until it settles down.”

The older woman hums as if to suggest something else. Jongho shakes his head, looking down at his feet. Unlocking his front door, he allows you to walk in before him. You feel homey and comfortable in the atmosphere when you step in. The second thing you note is that a large Saint Bernard is fast asleep on the couch. You don’t dare take another step in due to how soaking wet you still are. Jongho steps in just behind you, pulling the door shut. He softly chuckles, seeing the dog and how he snores, still deep in sleep.

“Bear,” he calls sweetly.

The dog slowly blinks awake, its tail flopping loudly and happily against the cushion. It stands up on the couch and stretches before hopping down and trotting over to you both. The dog takes his time but sits down directly on Jongho’s feet when he gets to where you are.

“Hi, boy, you do okay with this rain?” he asks the large canine, petting him, “This is Bear. I know not everyone is a dog fan, but he’s a sweet baby who just wants love.” he explains to you.

You nod and let the large dog sniff your hand and get to know you. Almost immediately, he lowers his head as if asking to be petted. You hear Jongho hum again a split second later, almost in surprise.

“He’s normally timid. I’m surprised he’s already letting you pet him.” he explains, “Oh, um, do you want something else to wear? I’m sure soaking wet clothing can’t be comfortable.”

“I don’t want to impose.” You shyly respond.

He shakes his head at you, “It’s no big deal. Come with me. I’ll show you where the bathroom is and get something for you to wear instead.”

You nod, accepting his kind gesture. He motions for you to follow him down the hallway. Bear following not far behind him, happily trotting. You take note of the various pictures hanging on the wall. One, in particular, catches your eye: a group of guys around your age. All of them are smiling brightly, sitting in an outdoor seeing area. You quickly pick out the man, slowly becoming less of a stranger. The others, though, you make a mental note to ask about later.

“Bathroom’s right there,” his deep voice pulls you from your thoughts, “I’ll be right back with some clothes. I hope you don’t mind me giving you some of mine. I don’t have anything else.”

“T-that’s fine,” you offer with a slight smile, “I’ll need to get used to it eventually if Wooyoung keeps insisting that we do double dates with him.” you add as he starts walking further down the hall.

“You think he’ll do that?” he calls back.

“I dated him for three years. He likes double or group dates much better than one-on-one dates.”

You hear his footsteps grow closer again (and Bear’s nails clicking against the hardwood with him), and not much longer, he’s standing right in front of you. His wet, tussled hair makes you gulp and finally process just how stunning the man in front of you is. Then, you just look at him for a few moments, neither of you saying a thing.

“Um, I put a pair of boxers in there, just in case you wanted something under the sweats.” he notes, avoiding eye contact, “You don’t have to take them. Just leave them in here. I can wash your rained-on clothes, though. It would be rude of me not to offer that.”

“Oh, thank you.” you respond, an awkward chuckle raising your tone.

You close the door, clothes, and towel in hand. At the bottom, there lay the aforementioned black sweatpants and boxers; on the top was an oversized graphic t-shirt. You smile contently without realizing it. It was a kind gesture for him to offer you clothing. For him to provide clothes that you would be comfortable in was even more caring. Perhaps fake dating this man wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

As you slowly peel off your sopping-wet clothing, your mind wanders. At first, it was just about how things between you and Wooyoung went and what you wanted to do differently about the entire encounter. Then, your brain wholly shifted tracks. Jongho was at the forefront of your mind about making up this elaborate scheme to convince your ex and his girlfriend. He vaguely mentioned stopping his friend from trying to get him to go on blind dates, too. That could add a whole new layer of complexity. When you step back and actually think about it, it sounds a little insane. You just kissed a man you didn’t even know, and now he’s pretending to be your boyfriend willingly. Your mind continues wandering down that path as you dry off your body and hair with the towel he provided you.

Then you freeze, looking over at the pile of clothing, and see the boxers he had referenced. Now, the internal debate starts. It would be weird to wear his boxers for multiple reasons, but at the same time, wearing his sweatpants without them would also be weird in various ways. In this case, you had to decide which was the lesser of the two evils. After a few minutes of standing there, fully nude, in a stranger’s bathroom, you finally decided to wear and deal with the item. After fully dressing, you look at yourself in the mirror momentarily. It’s odd; you haven’t worn anyone else’s clothing since your breakup with Wooyoung. Your hair is still damp from the rain; a towel can only do so much. You lack a bra, but at the moment, you couldn’t really be bothered with that. The shirt he gave you was large enough to conceal everything for the most part. Just as you open the door, you find Jongho standing directly before you, also now in dry clothing. Of course, Bear was by his side, happily panting and wanting attention.

“Oh, sorry,” he speaks choppily, “you were just in there for a little while. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You smile gently, “Yeah, I’m good. Where do you want me to put the wet clothes?”

“Follow me. You can give me the clothes. I’ll put them in the washer for you.” he offers.

You hand him the pile of clothes you had just picked up and follow him as he travels further down the hallway. Finally, he stops in front of a small closet and reveals the washer and dryer stacked inside it. He double-checks with you to ensure that nothing needs to be washed a certain way before he promptly starts the load of laundry and turns to face you again.

For the second time today, you’re absolutely amazed by this man slowly becoming less of a stranger. His hair is still slightly damp and hangs in his face. He looks comfortable in casual house clothing. Seeing him more in his element than at the cafe is nice. It feels like an eternity that you’re just standing there taking in his beauty. In reality, though, you know it’s a mere few moments. You don’t get broken from your gaze until a large dog jumps on you, demanding to be petted. He nearly tackles you to the ground before you can process what’s happening. You hear Jongho make a panicked noise before lifting Bear off you.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into him today. He’s never clingy with anyone but me.” he sighs before reaching a hand out to help you up.

“It’s okay,” you smile, taking his hand, “I’m happy to know he’s friendly.”

“He definitely is,” he chuckles, “did you want a blanket? We can warm up in the living room and figure out everything regarding our story.”

You hum in response, just realizing that you are actually quite chilly. Jongho disappears into what you quickly notice to be his room and grabs a few throw blankets he had tucked into an armoire. The moment he steps out, he hands you one of the blankets and guides the way back to the couches in the living room. He lets you have the first choice of seating with a quick apology about the dog hair. Once you’re both comfortable, Jongho lets out a light sigh. You give him a puzzled look, and he’s ready to explain once he catches your drift.

“It’s nice to have someone other than Yunho, Mingi, or Yeosang here.” he explains, “It’s been a while since I’ve had someone over that’s not them. This wasn’t by choice, but I wanted to say it is nice to have your company.”

“Thank you,” you mutter out, “Are they the other three guys in those pictures?”

“The ones in the hallway? Yeah, we’ve all been friends since we were young. All of my life, essentially. They’ve gotten me through some really rough times.” He cleared his throat, realizing he was getting too deep too quick, “I guess it would be smart to figure out our story now.”

“Well,” you start, “Wooyoung and I didn’t break up long ago. It was only in February that I found out about Miyeon. So, do you wanna say we started dating in April? Like two months ago?”

“Damn, two months, and you’re already stealing all my clothes.” he jokes lightly, “Yeah, that sounds good to me. How about where and when we met?” “The bookstore you work at?” “Nah, Mingi would flip and blow our cover if we claimed that. He works there too.” he glances over and notices you’re still shivering slightly in your blanket, “Here,” he offers, opening up the blanket around him, “Come sit with me. You’ll warm up quicker.”

At first, you think about declining his offer, but the chills that run through your body urge you to accept. You nod, sliding across the couch to get wrapped up in his arms. You haven’t cuddled with anyone for any reason since before your breakup with Wooyoung. Feeling the warmth of his body against yours underneath this fluffy throw blanket sends butterflies through your stomach that you will away.

“I guess we’ll have to adjust to physical affection, too. I mean, only if you want that, though. I know Wooyoung wasn’t really big on PDA. I guess he is with Miyeon, but with me-”

“Hey, hey, you’re rambling,” he teases, “we can go over all those details as they come up in conversation. Now, about where we met.”

“The cafe we met at today? It’s the truth, just bent a little.”

“I like that idea.” he hums, “Blind date?”

“Seems boring,” you joke, “let’s at least make it interesting if we’re gonna make it up.”

“Hmm,” he ponders, “how about we meet at that cafe? I just saw a pretty girl and decided to pay for her coffee. That’s overly sweet, of course.”

You can’t tell if he’s flirting or just making up the story, but how he said it made your heart flip in your chest. Only now do you realize just how intimate this situation really is. You don’t know what cologne he uses, but the scent entirely surrounds you. Not only are you wearing his clothes, but you’re using his blankets and cuddling up against his chest. You’re wholly engulfed in the scent. The overall atmosphere is so comforting and calm. You absolutely love it. The heavy rainfall mixed with your relatively quiet conversation adds to the ambiance. It’s something you could never quite describe.

“Hey,” he pulls you from your thoughts with a shrug of his shoulder you were leaning against, “You zoned out there. What do you think about that idea?”

“I like it.” you hum back, “I guess we should get to know each other better than just our first names and jobs.”

He chuckles and tells you anything you want to know. Things that were as simple as his favorite color (it’s white) or as complex as his family dynamic. You laugh all throughout your time, cuddled up together, learning all you can. Bear had joined you at one point, resting his head against your thigh. His body flopped across the empty space on the couch you had once occupied. You hadn’t even noticed the passage of time, just happy sitting here and telling him about yourself and learning about him. The rain never let up, though. It remained a constant heavy downpour the entire time. At some point, you both become even more comfortable. His head rested on top of yours, and his arm wrapped ever so slightly tighter around your shoulder. It felt so right despite having just met a few hours ago.

Suddenly, he lifts his head, “How late is it? It’s hard to tell with how rainy it is.”

“It’s,” you start, pulling your phone out of the sweatpants’ pocket, “almost 10 pm. Oh shit, almost 10… I should probably go. It would be rude of me to overstay my welcome.”

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s still raining hard outside. I don’t want to send you home in this storm.”

“Jongho,” you sigh, “it’s fine. You said you’d be able to drive me home.” you remind him.

Just as he goes to answer you, a loud crack of thunder sounds through the sky outside. The rain begins beating down harder, the sound almost deafening against the windowpanes. It’s almost as if the weather itself is telling you to stay, too. He lets out a sigh instead of the words he was about to say.

“I doubt either of us wants to go out in that rain… and honestly, I don’t want to drive in that kind of storm either.”

“I wouldn’t make you do that.”

An awkward silence fills the space between you. You both know what needs to be addressed, but neither of you wants to say it. You hear Bear panting quietly from his bed near Jongho’s houseplant. It’s the only sound besides the rain filling the apartment. Fiddling with the hem of the shirt he lent you, you aren’t sure how to approach the elephant in the room. He doesn’t seem to either. Jongho is busying himself, looking around his living room, trying to find anything to look at.

“Well-” your voice comes out slightly shaky, “I’ll just sleep on your couch until the storm passes. I can walk home after-”

“No,” the brunette cuts you off, “I won’t let you go home by yourself in the middle of the night. I’ll sleep on the couch. You should sleep in a bed.”

“Jongho I-”

“Unless you’d rather share it with me.” he states plainly.

You’re taken back for a moment, having not expected the comment, “Um, I guess I’ll sleep in your bed then…” your voice comes out shaky again.

“Bear likes to sleep at the foot of the bed.” he chuckles, “Just a warning.”

A part of you feels bad for taking the bed. It is his apartment, after all. Another part of you is grateful he gave you the bed. You know sleeping on a stranger’s couch wouldn’t be the most comfortable, and his gentlemanly gesture makes you feel just a bit more comfortable. The greater part of you feels bad that he’s sleeping on the couch in his home.

You try for a while to fall asleep, but you just can’t. Even with Bear eventually coming to lay at the end of the bed, you can’t seem to fall asleep. Your tossing and turning eventually annoys the Saint Bernard, who huffs at you before walking up to lay against your body. You welcome the warmth, but sleep doesn’t come your way. Sitting up, you look at the half-asleep dog beside you. Bear just gives you a look and huffs again. After debating mentally for about another ten minutes, you wrap a throw blanket around yourself and walk out to the living room again.

Jongho is seemingly fast asleep on the couch. One of his arms is over his head while the other is resting against his chest. Yet again, he steals your breath for simply existing. When you step closer, you start to debate with yourself again. You should probably just go back to his room and succumb to tossing and turning all night.

“If you’re gonna stare, at least be subtle about it.” Jongho teases, eyes still shut.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You reply, “I didn’t want to disturb you, but-”

“I can’t sleep either.” He admits, “Come here.”

“What?” You’re confused, to say the least.

“Normally, Bear cuddles with me, but he’s already opted for his dog bed. Come here, we need to get used to physical contact, right?”

You nibble on your lower lip as you think. Earlier, you really did feel comfortable in his arms. His is right, too. If you’re going to be meeting Wooyoung later in the week for a double date, you know he’d be suspicious if you two weren’t physically affectionate. Finally giving in, you climb onto the couch and lay your head against his chest. The arm that was previously resting there moves to be splayed across your shoulders. Suddenly, you feel exhaustion overtake you. Mere moments ago, you were the furthest you could be from getting rest. Now, you can barely keep your eyes open.

You don’t expect to have a dog licking your face when you wake up. You blink slowly, seeing the sun beaming through the window. Then, when you see the pup sitting in front of the couch, you notice that he’s picked up his leash and wants to go for a walk. Jongho is still asleep underneath you. You opt to get up and get your clothing out of the dryer before you head out. On your way to the laundry closet, you grab your phone. You do your best not to let out an annoyed groan when you see a text from Wooyoung.

Do Not Answer ❌ Hey Miyeon and I are heading to the festival that’s in the park right now. You and your boyfriend down to move out double date today?

You leave him on ‘read’ for now. Eventually, you reach the laundry closet and grab all your clothing. Suddenly, Jongho appears in front of you. He’s clearly still half asleep as he shuffles down the hallway.

“Let me walk you back to your place if you’re going to leave so soon.” He offers, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Let me. It’s not a bother to me at all. Bear wants his morning walk as it is.”

You nod, “I’ll get changed back into my own clothes real quick, then we can go.”

Jongho nods back at you and lets you walk past to change in the bathroom. Everything is fine, peaceful even. You don’t think about Wooyoung’s rather irritating request to change plans. That is, until, he sends you yet another text.

Do Not Answer ❌ Hey… if you would rather come to our place and have the date there we can…

Didn’t think you wanted to be back in our apartment after you stormed out on me like that

If you do though I don’t mind that one bit… hope your boy doesn’t mind though

His comments make your skin crawl. Referring to his apartment as your shared home was already bad; also, saying you stormed out on him only made the bitter taste in your mouth worse. Still, you swallow your irritation and respond.

Do Not Answer ❌

My boyfriend has a name. Be fucking respectful Wooyoung.

My bad… So are you and whatever his name is coming or should I tell Miyeon you backed out?

You talked with him yesterday. His name is Jongho. We didn’t back out of anything… We literally just woke up. I’ll talk to him about it in a second

You don’t check whether he responds once you pocket your phone. When you pop the door open again, Bear is waiting for you. His tail is swishing against the hall rug excitedly. You watch as he trots down the hall when you step closer. You follow after him and see that he stops right at the door where Jongho is ready and waiting for you while looking at his phone.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Hmm?” He asks, putting his phone in his jacket pocket.

“Wooyoung…” you trail off, trying your best not to be annoyed with your ex.

Jongho’s face hardens, “Did he do something?”

For a moment, you feel butterflies coursing through your body. The way he’s asking is as if he’s your actual boyfriend and is showing concern for your well-being. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it.

“He wants to change plans last minute. He always did this shit when we were together too… If you aren’t up for going on a double date right now, I’ll just take the fall of ‘backing out’ like he’s claiming.”

“Where are they? If I can bring Bear with us, we’ll be good.”

“The park near his apartment that has some sort of festival.”

“Perfect! Do you want something else to wear since you wore that yesterday? I know it’s clean, but I’m sure he would say something even though I only met him yesterday. He seems like that kind of person.”

You nod shyly, “A sweater would be nice. I don’t mind wearing the rest of my clothes still.”

Bear walks over and nudges you with his head. He’s already very attached to you it seems. You squat down and pet him for a few moments. Despite his size, the large dog melts into you and lets out a satisfied groan when you scratch his ears.

“What kind of sweater?” You hear Jongho call, “I have plenty.”

“Something comfy! I don’t want to be too cold while we’re out.” You call back, very much still preoccupied with Bear.

You hear Jongho walk back up to you. You look up and see a thicker black sweater with thin grey and white stripes across it in his hands. He’s giving you a gentle smile.

“Here you go, clothing thief.” He smirks at you.

You take the sweater from him, “You offered.” You grumble back playfully before walking back to the bathroom to change again.

The sweater is far more comfortable than you expected. It’s long enough that your hands disappear beneath the sleeves, and the bottom hem hangs low enough to cover your entire butt. When you return, Jongho has Bear harnessed up and ready to go. Something about the entire scene makes you feel warmly domestic with a man you met less than 24 hours ago.

The walk to the park isn’t very eventful, in complete honesty. Most pauses you take are to let Bear sniff something or do his business. Of course, you and Jongho make small conversation about nothing particularly important. You don’t even physically interact with each other. That is, until, you approach the start of the park. You feel Jongho’s strong arm wrap around you while the other still holds onto Bear’s leash. You look at him with a slightly perplexed look; you expect him to hold you, but his grip is rather tight on your hip. It’s almost protective in a way.

“I see them.” he whispers against your hair as if he’s whispering a sweet nothing. “Just play along, okay?”

You nod, “Let the show begin.”

Networks: @kwritersworld @k-vanity @cultofdionysusnet

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris @almondmilkeu @shinestarhwaa @northerngalaxy

#jongho fanfic #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #cultofdionysusnet #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #jongho x reader #jongho fluff

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helen-with-an-a · 2 months

Text

The object that stood in the way of a World Cup

Hi. So this is going to be a 2 part (maybe 3 part) story that I've had floating in my head for a while now.

It's angsty - I do want it to end with a fluffy end, but it's getting a little too long to be 1 thing ahahaha. Anyways.

Ona Batlle x Reader

TW: Angst, no direct mention of bad mental health, but it's clear R ain't ok.

Word count: 3.3k

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Flashbacks are written in Italics; for anyone not aware of the British school system GCSEs you take at 16 (you have 3 or 4 choice subjects and 5 or 6 compulsory subjects) and A-levels you take at 18 (you choose 3 or 4 subjects)

Description: R sees Ona again for the first time since their breakup

This is what you had been waiting for. All summer. All year. Hell, probably all your life. The World Cup Final. And the thought absolutely terrified you.

Your first thought after the final whistle wasn’t one of joy or happiness. You weren’t elated like Lessi or Tooney who barrelled into you and squeezed you so tight it hurt. You weren’t jumping for joy like Gee, Kiera and Lucy who manhandled you into the middle of their huddle. You weren’t screaming so loud your voice went hoarse like Hempo and Es. You weren’t standing in disbelief like Mearps and Millie.

Your first thought was of your ex- girlfriend, friend-with-benefits, situationship, Ona. Your first thought was of Ona. Spain had won against Sweden yesterday. And now you had won against Australia. The last time you had seen her was not a fun experience for you. Screaming. Tears. Spiteful words she didn’t mean. But that was the last time you spoke to her. It had been a long 8 months without her.

You weren’t quite sure what you were to each other when you were both at United. You had met on her first day. You were meant to be her buddy. The management had asked around during pre-season if anyone spoke any Spanish. You had done it at A-level, so you stuck your hand up. Barcelona was The Dream for you, so you had tailored your studies at school as much as you could to help you achieve it – taking Spanish at GCSE and A-level and continuing to watch Spanish shows and reading books to help you maintain it. You weren’t fluent but you knew enough that it would help Ona feel more comfortable. And you clearly had.

After winning the first derby of the season, the team had gone for drinks. Alcohol flowed, inhibitions were lost, and boundaries were blurred as Ona ended up in your bed. You had thought it would be a one-time thing. A drunken mistake that wasn’t much of a mistake to you. And it was … until it wasn’t. The next time it happened was at your birthday. And then her birthday. And then the end of the season. And then alcohol wasn’t a factor in taking you both to bed. She was suddenly all around you. Her jumpers were in your wardrobe. Her football boots were by the door. Her stuff was in the shower. Her snacks were in the cupboard. You had never spoken about what you were, but you drove her to training, she cooked you her mother's dishes, you snuggled into her side when watch your show, she slept in your bed every night.

And then it all came crashing down.

November 2022

You knew you needed to tell her as soon as possible. You wanted to tell her the news that had you pouncing on her the moment she stepped through the door. You were happy and giddy and so, so excited. You hadn’t thought that she wouldn’t be all of those things for you. You had made no secret that Barcelona was your dream. Everyone know that if Barcelona came knocking you would be gone without a doubt in your mind. You had received a phone call from your manager that afternoon.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you free to talk? There’s an offer for you.” Paul said down the phone. He sounded composed but happy, it intrigued you.

“Yeh, I’m free. What’s the offer? It’s mid-season though and I’m out of contract in the summer, why are they wanting to talk now?” You were questioning but not closed off. You knew joining a team mid-season would be hard but not impossible.

“Well… it’s Barca. They’ve but in an offer for you.” You were in complete shock. Barca wanted you. You were going to play for Barcelona. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. You screamed. It was the only thing you could think of. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Paul laughed. He knew Barca was the dream. He’d already written up the acceptance email.

“Oh my god! Of course it’s a bloody yes. I’m gonna play for Barcelona” You shouted.

“They want you to sign on the first day of the January signing window. It’ll be announced just after El Clásico. Is that ok with you? It gives you a couple of months to get everything sorted. And since United haven’t played in the Champions League, you aren’t cup tied or anything.”

You were floating on a cloud of happiness when the door clicked open. Ona was back from having a ‘Spanish Day’ with all the Spaniards living in Manchester. She had barely made it into the living room when you jumped her. Lips trailing everywhere you could reach. She laughed that gorgeous sound as you shoved her gently to the bedroom, her coat slipping off as you went.

You lay with your head against the pillows, hair fanned out to the side. You were sweaty and out of breath in the best way. Ona collapsed down next to you, her arms quickly wrapping around your waist.

“I had a phone call today.” You said nonchalantly. “From Paul,” you added as you tucked the duvet around the both of you. “There’s been an offer for me in the January window”. She looked at you expectantly. “Oni, Voy a jugar para el Barcelona” you breathed out. She stiffened in your arms.

“Qué quieres decir, amor?” She choked out after a few moments of silence, sitting up and moving away from you. You knew she wanted to go back to Spain, go back to Barca … but this was not the reaction you were expecting.

“Paul phoned. They’ve put in an offer for me for the January window. I’m signing on the 1st with it being announced after El Clásico.” You stated the facts. The simple outline of the facts that made you feel so, so happy.

“Are we not going to talk about this? You can’t leave in the middle of the season. United need you. We need you…. I need you, amor” She started off loud, angry, and upset, but by the end of the sentence it was barely a whisper. You had never seen Ona so… you could describe the look on her face. The way her body seemed slumped over in sadness.

“Hey… hey. No, don’t think like that. I’m here until the break. We’ve got a month or so. Everything will be fine, Oni. You are well aware that Barcelona is only a few hours on a plane. Everything will be fine!” She seemed to accept your comforting words.

But everything wasn’t fine.

There was a shift in the relationship arrangement whatever this was. Fewer jumpers were in your wardrobe. When she ran out of body wash, she didn’t replace it with a new bottle. Less of her snacks were added to your weekly shopping list. You still drove her to training but her music no longer blasted out of the speakers. She still cooked for you but there were never leftovers for the next day. She still slept in your bed, but she held onto your arm rather than curling up on top of you.

And then it was the Christmas break. Your last day at United. You weren’t sad to be leaving the club. But you were sad to be leaving the people. Of course, you knew you would see some of them during the international windows and whenever you came home but it wasn’t the same. Once again, the alcohol in your system led you to be on top of Ona. The first time you had done anything since you told her about your move. Something felt different this time. She was leaving to go back to Spain the following morning and you wouldn’t see her again before you left.

You woke up with a slight headache, but that wasn’t what pulled you from your sleep. Catalan came drifting across the flat. Ona was awake, and by the temperature of the bed, she had been for a while.

“Hey. Qué ocurre? Qué pasó?” She was pacing the living room, muttering away to herself. “Oni? Hey, estás bien?” She wasn’t paying any attention to you. “Ona”. Your hands rested on her shoulders, halting her scattered movements.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped. You jumped at the harshness in her tone.

“What’s wrong, Oni?” You asked again.

“I can’t do this.” She answered back. Her tone just as sharp. You knew what she was implying but you hoped you were wrong.

“This being…?” You trailed off.

“Us.” She stated simply. You waited a heartbeat, hoping she would realise you would do anything for her.

“It’s not like there was really an ‘us’ to begin with!” She spat at you. You felt your heart begin to splitter into a thousand pieces. Ona was looking for an argument. She was terrified you’d leave her behind at Manchester without a second look. Ona was hopelessly in love with you. She had been for some time. It wasn’t fast or scary. It was subtle and peaceful. One day she had woken up next to you and she knew it was you. It would always be you. But she didn’t know if she was yours. You were never a tactile person but with Ona, you always had some form of body contact. She thought it little of it. She was Spanish after all, touching your friends was fairly normal – she didn’t realise that you didn’t hug Lessi or Tooney unless they forced themselves at you. She didn’t consider how you were quick to shake off Mary or Maya’s arms. To you, and to everyone else but Ona, it was really obvious that she was yours and you were hers. You just hadn’t had the ‘what are we’ conversation yet. She was also jealous. Barca wanted you. Her home wanted you. Not her. Never mind that her agents had mentioned that Barca wanted her in the summer when she was out of contract. Barca offered money for you. Barca wanted you so badly that they offered a record-breaking fee in the middle of a season. She was scared, angry and jealous. How was she to know that you rarely argued back with someone? How was she to know that your easy-going nature was a result of growing up in a household where shouting was the norm? How was she to know that your mild-mannered temperament was due to your habit of placating your family to stop the noise? You had never told her that particular part of your childhood.

So, she hit you where she knew it would hurt the most, hoping to get a reaction out of you. “Eres sólo un polvo rápido. Fácil. Nada mas para mi. Something to pass the time. I don’t even know why Barca want you, honestly. No eres lo suficientemente buena.” She waited for a reply, but none came. She waited for you to lash out at her. Snap. Do something to make this … breakup? … easier. She wanted to be able to hate you in the same way she was trying to make you hate her. She did the second most painful thing she could think of. She spun on her heels and marched out the door.

You knew she was lying… you think. You hoped she was lying. You knew Ona could get mean when she was upset or scared. You had witnessed it after a particularly bad game – her harshness, her biting words. But she had said those words with such conviction, and you couldn’t think of a reason as to why she would be scared or upset. It had been a wonderful night. Laughter, soft touches exactly where you needed them, and love. You could feel the love between the two of you. Every lingering touch, every passionate kiss, ever whispered word. Everything was done with love, for the pure enjoyment of the other. Everything was perfect.

You're just a quick fuck. Easy. Nothing more to me. Was that all you were to her? Did the late nights mean nothing to her? Did the secrets you whispered into her hair mean anything? Were all the promises she made you lies? Was everything she ever said to you just so she could get her regular fix? Did she really think you weren’t good enough for Barcelona? She knew her opinion of you and your football meant a lot to you. Was every reassurance that you were good enough for the starting XI mean nothing? Was every calming word when you were waiting for Sarina’s call false? Did she genuinely think that you weren’t good enough?

You were in a daze all throughout Christmas. Seeing you family was fun, but you couldn’t shake the clouds in your mind. When you met with the some of the Lionesses in Manchester in between Christmas and New Year, everyone could tell something was wrong. You were normally on the quieter side, preferring to listen rather than speak. But you didn’t really do either. You were just there; not contributing to conversations or laughing along like you usually would. Something was wrong but no one knew what. And then you were on a plane, staring out the window as you watched Spain get closer and closer. You had never been to Spain outside of camps and tournaments. Ona had promised to take you there, to show you Barcelona, to show you her home. But you had to make it your home without her by your side.

And now you were about to play Ona in a World Cup Final.

Lucy knew something was eating at you in the days leading up to the final. She had phoned Leah to come to the hotel to cheer the whole team up and boost morale. It had worked for the other girls but not you. Kiera phoned Alexia as well. But the comforting words had washed straight over you. Everyone thought that it was because you were facing the Barca girls. No one in Barcelona knew of your history with Ona beyond that of teammates at United. If she was ever in town for a quick break, you always, miraculously, had other plans you couldn’t get out of. They didn’t know you lied and hid yourself away in your flat – moving your car a few streets along and leaving your phone off so the location couldn’t be tracked. You’d even gone so far as to phone up Hayley Raso in Madrid to ask if you could come visit her when you found out Ona would be at a team bonding event due to her free schedule coinciding with game-less weekend for Barca. Hayley was a little confused, but you were close enough friends from your time at Manchester that she didn’t question it.

Ona’s words had stayed with you. Every time you failed gave the ball away, passed a too-wide cross, or missed a shot on goal, her words echoed in your mind. You’re not good enough. The venom lacing her tone permeated your brain. You pushed yourself hard then ever before. You went for runs before training to improve your stamina, stayed late to practice free kicks and penalties. You lifted heavier weights and broke your old PBs in the gym. You were eating correctly and always seemed cheery enough, so no one really questioned it. Slowly the muscles started to grow. You were always on the stockier side, the muscles you had slowly built up helping you with your defence. But now you were really built. Your muscles were obvious, even under looser fitting clothes. Not that you really wore loose clothes anymore. At first, it was because everyone on the team, everyone in Barcelona, looked good. Their styles were just rubbing off on you, you had justified to yourself. But eventually, the tops became tighter and shorter. The trousers became low rise, and the hemlines became higher. The Barca Glow Up (and Lotte had coined it) was definitely real. You told yourself it was for you. The clothes you were wearing, the muscles you liked to show off, was because you were proud of them. Which you were. But you couldn’t lie to yourself for long. The Barca media frequently posted game day fits. You knew Ona followed Barca. You knew you would appear on her timeline. Yes, you were a little more tired than you used to be. But that was fine. You didn’t tell anyone the words that rattled around in your head when you were alone. You were fine. Everything was fine. You were playing the best football of your life at Barca. You were a key part of their defence, making your way into the Starting XI quickly and constantly proving your worth in every game.

You were fine. Ok, you hadn’t had sex, or even looked at another girl, since Ona arriving in Spain. Ok, you had to have some form of noise constantly in the background because every time there was silence your thoughts drifted back to Manchester. Ok, you couldn’t be around Ingrid and Mapi or anyone else in a relationship for too long otherwise you might start crying. Ok, you were still very much broken hearted. But you were fine. You weren’t necessarily good, but you were fine

The morning of the final, you were quiet. But everyone was, even Tooney. The buzz of anticipation. The air of expectation. Everyone was doing their own pre-match routine. You had followed yours to the letter. A gentle walk alone this morning followed by breakfast. A full bottle of water on the coach to the stadium. Pitch inspection with Less and Tooney. Warm up with Lucy and Millie. Hair slicked into a bun. A spray of perfume and into the tunnel to walk out.

She was standing just a head of you. Perfect. Breath-taking. Even with her game face on and her concentration as Irene spoke to her, you could see the usual kindness in her features. Those soft warm eyes that you had been lost in far too often. The freckles that littered her skin that you had traced and played dot-to-dot with as you laughed sleepless nights away. The braid that you used to tug on to get her attention before a match that always made her smile and break her focus. You knew you were still desperately in love with her. You shook your head. You couldn’t let her get to you. Not now. Your walls went back up as you pushed all thoughts from her mind. She wasn’t your Oni – even though you knew in your heart she would always be that to you –, she was the object that stood in your way of a World Cup. As Jess and Alex pulled your attention away from the Spanish players, you missed her looking at you.

She knew you had more muscle than before but seeing you in the flesh was something else. Your eyes that have the ability to truly look at a person, looked a little more tired than she was used to. The genuine smiled that was a defining feature for you was replaced with a hard line and a smirk every now and again. She thinks you have had a haircut since being in Barca – your bun wasn’t as big as it used to be in Manchester. She wanted nothing more than to trace her fingers gently over the new scar just above your eyebrow. She knew exactly how you got it. She watched every game of yours, live if she could – on repeat if she couldn’t. You had collided with a player during Chelsea Champions League match. She had been so terrified she almost picked up the phone to call you several times. She did play a little more brutally the next time she faced Chelsea. She had been carded after she left a particularly nasty tackle on the girl that had hurt you. She didn’t know that you also watched all of her games. She didn’t know that you also wanted to phone her after that match but was so scared of her rejection. But right now, you weren’t her Amor – even though you would always be that to her –, you were the object that stood in her way of a World Cup.

Part 2 will probably be out fairly quickly as a lot of it is already written but yeh

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #manchester united #man utd #man utd women

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Note

What if instead of Wednesday being in the room when Bianca knocks on Xavier's door, he's cuddling with his new girl? Hides under the bed or closet or whatever

my taglists are here + you can requests here at any time

—

You rubbed soft circles into Xavier's waist where his shirt was riding up while slowly kissing. His sketchbook had been abandoned and kicked to the end of the bed, no longer of first interest. Despite being alone, neither of you had any further intentions.

Xavier hummed at your touch and leaned into you like the soft and needy kitten he was. You smiled and continued your caresses.

Your and Xavier’s relationship was completely unknown to your Nevermore peers. After his very public breakup with Bianca Barclay, Xavier didn’t want to flash his new relationship to everyone — especially Bianca. She didn’t call the shots and tried many times to get Xavier to take her back, but he refused every time.

Besides, sometimes things are better if you keep them just yours.

A knock on the door forced you and Xavier to break apart. You didn't want to, very comfortable entangled with him on his bed, but there was a possibility this was the house master passing for his evening checking.

Xavier pushed you into his bathroom in prevention and closed the door. The floor was still wet from his shower, but it wasn’t dirty like under a bed.

He tamed his hair a little and opened the door, finding a smiling Bianca on the other side. Slamming the door in her face was tempting, but Xavier didn’t want to make a scene.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her inside. ‘’You're not supposed to be up here,’’ he said flatly.

‘’Good to see you too,’’ Bianca snarked back.

‘’How did you get past the house master? Did you use your siren powers?’’

‘’Not while wearing this.’’ She touched her amulet necklace.

Xavier walked away from her, keeping a distance between them. ‘’What do you want, Bianca?’’

You could hear in his voice that his interest in her was completely gone, but she refused to bury their relationship. She kept searching for a spark through the burned embers to revive the flame. Unfortunately for her, Xavier was fueling another fire.

‘’I wanted to see how you’re doing. I’m sorry about Rowan. I know you and him used to be close—’’

Xavier huffed. The last time he heard her talk to Rowan was in fencing class and she called him lazy.

‘’Since when do you give a damn about Rowan?’’

‘’I care about you.’’

He couldn’t deny that. Although she made him doubt his own feelings for her, Bianca wasn’t an evil soul. She always cared about Xavier, whether they were in a relationship or not.

Bianca stepped up to him by his bed and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. ‘’We were good together, Xavier.’’

‘’Were we?’’ he asked, looking up at her. ‘’Or was that how you wanted me to feel?’’

The walls of the bathroom were thin enough for you to hear their conversation close to perfection. Thin enough to hear the lingering pain in Xavier’s words, still hurt by Bianca’s past actions.

‘’I made one mistake and you can’t forgive me—’’

‘’There is nothing to forgive. I just want to move on,’’ Xavier said, tired of going over the same things every time they talked. ‘’I broke up with you, remember? Now, please leave before the house master comes for bed-checks.’’

Regardless how sorry she was, the manipulation of his emotions was something he could never forgive Bianca. His whole life is controlled by his father in a way or another; the only thing Xavier has control over is his emotions and if someone take that from him, he’ll have nothing left.

She accepted her defeat and turned to leave, but on her way out, Bianca caught something on the adjacent empty bed. A jacket.

‘’Isn’t that Y/N’s jacket?’’ she asked, recognizing the clothing.

For a short few seconds, Xavier thought he had been caught. He found himself stammering while searching for a quick but good enough lie.

‘’She…she forgot it in the quad a-and I was planning to give it back to her tomorrow.’’

Bianca raised an eyebrow, doubting him. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow at the lake. Make sure to get enough sleep…or not.’’ Her blue eyes shifted to your jacket. ‘’I’m gonna crush you anyway.’’

After her departure, Xavier groaned. She knew you were there.

—

Wednesday taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n @poppet05 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @rhaenyraswife @teaganthemorningstar @aphex2winn @moompie @ifevilwhyhot @oliviah-25 @spenglerslime @wetwilliam02 @yellowcupcakes @haileyismoo @theyslayallday @wrldofsage @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @toylewestinnyc @meme-queen-1999 @rottenstyx

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix

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rustedhearts · 1 year

Text

everytime (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: despite your break up two months ago, you can't seem to stay away from each other. when you need him, he's there. but how long can this really last?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

tags: steve + reader are college age (early-mid 20s), alcohol consumption, angst, hurt/comfort-ish, reader may have a bit of a substance abuse issue (it's heavily implied), accidental casual dominance? (steve really just takes care of her)

"every time i try to fly i fall without my wings, i feel so small. i guess i need you, baby. and every time i see you in my dreams, i see your face, it's haunting me. i guess i need you, baby."

—everytime, britney spears (ethel cain cover)

hawkins, indiana 1999

For your first date, Steve took you to Harvey's: a little retro milkshake diner off the interstate with the soggiest salted French fries and the smoothest strawberry shake you'd ever had in your life. He kissed you against the tin wall, right beneath the neon crimson exit sign. He held your hand on the drive home and kissed your knuckles at stop signs. You're so fuckin' beautiful, he told you on your porch.

That was senior year, three years ago.

For your last date, Steve took you to Enzo's: the fanciest Italian restaurant in town with bitter sauce and crunchy breadsticks. He didn't kiss you on the way there, nor the way back. You barely looked each other in the eye during the entire meal. When the check came, Steve slid it into his lap and turned to your hand, limp and empty on the tabletop. This isn't working anymore...is it? he asked you.

That was two months ago.

Your relationship had been on the outs for a while. All you did was fight, and not the fun, witty banter you used to have. The arguments turned explosive: doors slamming, engines revving, broken picture frames. Steve accused you of flirting with every man you came in contact with. You accused him of insecurity and projection. The pair of you made a scene no matter where you went, and soon it became exhausting just to be in your presence. You were bitter and bitchy, no longer the sweet girl he loved to make giggle. You became resentful and mean, and he became passive and silent.

It wasn't working, and it hadn't been working for a while.

You moved out of the apartment and in with a friend from college, taking the tiny spare bedroom she'd been using for storage. Most of it lived in the closet now, but the space was yours. The move was difficult—you'd lived with Steve since the day after high school graduation. You were gonna get married. You were gonna move west to California when you were done with school and abandon Indiana together. The pair of you had dreams bigger than this town, and now that you had gone your separate ways, they felt out of reach.

But you hadn't really gone your separate ways, had you?

You spoke on the phone a few nights a week, murmuring in the darkness about your days. Though it always went unspoken, I miss you bled through every phone call. When he inevitably sighed, and the receiver crackled with his shuffling, you had to bite way tears. I should get to bed, he'd say, and he'd say it like an apology. You soaked your pillow, wishing you'd told him you loved him a little more than you did when you had the chance.

Because you always loved Steve, and you were certain you always would. Nobody had ever been so kind to you, so sweet and understanding. Steve saw you for who you were, and never wanted you to change. But you pulled away from him, pushed him out when he tried to get in. Nobody bothered to stick around as long as Steve did. And that scared you.

Now here you were, crying yourself to sleep.

♡ ♡

One thing you didn't lose in the breakup were your friends. They refused to pick sides, insisting that there was no need to choose one or the other when they could easily split their time. More often than not, you found yourself waving to Steve through Eddie Munson's apartment window as he got into his car and drove off—like switching shifts, alternating between your visits and Steve's. He'd wave back, a stiff palm in the air directed your way in the windshield, paired with a tight-lipped, solemn smile.

Tonight, Eddie was hosting a party with his girlfriend, Gwen, and you knew the crowd would be absent of Steve. The only reason Steve ever attended parties was because you wanted to. He much preferred staying in and reading, or going to dinner just the two of you. He hated crowds and loud music, the 'sloppy drunks and fuzzy potheads' as he called them. He hated Eddie's other friends, and he hated you around them. You were always a little too eager to guzzle alcohol and puff a joint—it was the topic of many of your arguments.

He wasn't wrong, and that's what pissed you off the most.

Because here you were, on your third rum and coke of the night, sipping from a tiny red straw and chewing on the plastic. Eyes hazy and rimmed pink, cheeks flushed with warmth, sweating down your spine. The apartment was crammed with people like sardines in a tin can, and you stumbled through them on your way to the kitchen for some sort of snack. There, you found Robin and Gwen leaning against the sink, eyeing you pitifully as you fell between them with a sigh.

"What's up, girls?" You were out of breath and slurring your words.

They shared a look over your head, cringing. "How many have you had, babe?" Gwen asked.

You hummed, rubbing at your eye and smearing glitter across your cheek. "Uh...like two? Three. Definitely three."

"Three and?"

You huffed, tipping your head back exasperatedly. "Three and, like, one fucking hit. How many have you had, Robin?"

Your tone was mean. It always got a little sharp and cruel when you had too much to drink. The words always came flying out before you could swallow them, and you always woke the next morning with a massive headache and a ball of regret the size of Canada sitting in your throat. You felt it, a pang of guilt stabbing your gut, when you saw your friends' faces fall. You felt it, wringing your heart like a wet washcloth when Steve would stomp off.

"Hey. We're just looking out for you," Gwen interjected, brows furrowing at your tone.

Your cheeks flamed, teeth digging into the fleshy interior of your cheek to stop the tears of humiliation from springing forth. You turned around shakily and took a warm cheese cube from the platter on the counter.

"I know. But I'm...I'm fine. Okay?"

The girls sighed, and Eddie came shuffling into the kitchen with a beer and a cigarette in hand. He wrapped an inked arm around Gwen's neck, pulling her in by the crook of his elbow to plant a loud kiss on the top of her head. She fit into his side and nuzzled his neck, smiling in greeting. You swallowed, throat coated with thick warning. You were going to cry, and you sure as fuck weren't gonna do it here.

"Hey, what's up, scholar?" Eddie asked you, smacking your arm playfully.

You refused to turn around, knowing if you did the whole kitchen would see your glossy eyes and wobbling lip. But this just made you mean again, and as you plucked more cheese from the counter and poked at limp peppers, you pulled in on yourself. Eddie turned to his girlfriend and Robin, who shook their heads dejectedly.

"You okay, honey?" Robin reached out to rub your arm, and you curled away to wave her off, keeping your face angled toward the floor.

"I'm fine. I just...I'm gonna...go wash my hands."

You hurried off, refusing to meet their eyes as you went. You staggered through a sea of people, dizzy and foggy-headed, struggling to breathe. Gwen and Eddie's bedroom was the last door on the left, and you burst into the room with an urgent gasp of breath. The door slammed after you, and you had half a mind to sink onto the floor and lie there for the rest of the night until you stopped crying—but then you saw the phone.

You didn't even think about it.

You knew the number by heart. You dialed the numbers like second nature, lifting the phone to your ear to cradle the cool plastic with shaky fingers. You sniffled to clear the snot, swiping at the tears dripping down your cheeks. The dial tone droned. Once, twice, three times. You sank onto the floor against the bed, leaning your head back against the soft mattress.

"Hello?"

You squeezed your eyes shut. "Stevie?"

It was quiet a moment, and then another soft sigh. "Honey...why are you callin' me? Is everything okay?"

His voice, so soft and smooth like it always was, felt like a security blanket. It wrapped around you, tendrils curling around your bones to hold them tight like he used to. And you wanted nothing more than to hear that voice murmuring in your ear, with his arms around you to keep you safe. Everything's been so off-kilter since he left. Since you left each other. Every day feels like finding your footing all over again. Naked and bare, you weren't sure which direction to go in unless he was there to guide you.

And as selfish as it sounded, you wanted him to guide you again.

"N-No. I'm so fucked up, Steve—it's so fucked up."

Shuffling crackled through the receiver, and you imagined Steve sitting up in bed and rubbing his tousled hair. He sounded tired when he spoke again. "You been drinkin', baby?"

You nodded, sniffling nosily. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Stevie."

Keys tinkled like wind chimes in the distance of the other line. "Where are you, honey? Hmm? Do you know?"

You sighed, snot rattling in the back of your throat. Your hand fell to the itchy carpet beneath your legs, rubbing your palm to scratch it. You hated how this sounded like a routine. Like he expected you to call, all fucked out and lost. You wished you were better for him.

"M' at Eddie's."

"Oh, okay," Steve sounded a little relieved. "Stay where you are, alright?" He was coming to you.

"Steve...you don't have t' come, m' sorry. M' sorry, just...I'm all over the place."

"I'll be right there."

The line clicked, and you carefully placed the phone back in the cradle. The tears started up again, full force and breathless. You gasped for air and hiccuped like an infant as you clawed your way onto the bed, sprawling out on your back. You were grateful the room was dark. You didn't want to see yourself like this.

You listened the songs change while you waited to calm your cries. The room hadn't stopped spinning, and your throat felt so tight. Your chest hurt with a hollow ache that hadn't gone away since your last night at Steve's. You slept in the same bed, facing opposite walls. In the morning, you slid your key across the table and kissed his cheek. He carried your boxes to the car and stroked your cheek with his thumb against the passenger door. He smelled like hazelnut coffee and sleep.

Four songs passed before you heard familiar voices murmuring outside the door.

"Jesus, Steve, you can't keep coming to rescue her," Robin huffed.

You wiped your cheeks, lips downturning. Tough love really hurt when it came from your closest friends.

"Mind your business."

"This is my business. I care about both of you, and this is just...this is unhealthy!"

"Get out of my fucking way, Buckley."

The door handle jiggled, and you turned your head to watch it open. A streak of yellow light sliced through the blue darkness of the room.

"You don't know shit," Steve muttered, and then he was standing in the room.

The thump of music became muffled by the door once more, light clamped off to return the pair of you to darkness. A strip of moonlight beaconed over his face as he stepped closer, hands in the pockets of his jeans. You could hear his keys jingling as he fidgeted. He tipped his head at the sight of you lying there.

"Hi," you whispered. It was the sweetest you’d sounded in months.

Steve swallowed, trying not to rush over and kiss you. He had to fight the urge each time he saw you, even in passing. It felt wrong to part ways without a kiss goodbye. Even when you fought, you always stopped to kiss each other before going to work or heading to bed. It became one of Steve's favorite habits. He felt empty without it.

"Hi," he murmured back.

You sniffled, carefully turning your head away to look toward the ceiling. You were disappointed to see it was still swirling. You suddenly wished you were sober. Maybe he'd see you differently.

"You didn't have to come."

Steve shrugged in your periphery. He was wearing one of those collared polos that you loved. Three buttons always left undone, tight white t-shirt underneath. You wanted him closer. You wanted to smell his cologne again.

"But I'm here."

You shuffled to your elbows, groaning softly. Something lurched in your stomach, coiled tight in your belly. You were gonna be sick, but you didn't want to be in front of Steve. Pushing off weakly on your palms, you sat upright and wiped your cheek, smearing more makeup in the process.

Steve inched closer, waiting for his cue to step in. It came when you stood and wavered on the carpet, reaching for a steady surface.

"Alright, easy, honey." He swooped in, arm wrapped around your waist to guide you toward the bathroom door.

He pushed it open and flicked on the light, propping you against the sink like a Barbie doll. With an open palm on your stomach, he kept you upright as he rummaged through the drawers for a rag. You played with the brown leather band of his watch as he ran the rag under warm water, a pout embedded on your mouth.

"Wanna hop up there f' me?"

You braced the cold counter with the heel of your palms, lifting on wobbly arms to sit on top. "Atta girl," Steve mumbled under his breath, and even in your bleary state you flushed with warmth.

Resting against the mirror, you watched Steve lather powder white soap onto the wet cloth until it bubbled, bringing two fingers under the pink cotton to wipe against your cheek. His eyes were steady on his own ministrations, watching his hand clean away the smeared mascara and tears.

Your eyes, however, could only focus on him. His big sad eyes, swampy green and brown flanked by long, curled lashes. The mocha-colored freckles grazing his cheeks and collarbone, sprinkled along his neck. The pout on his plump pink lips, taken between his teeth in concentration.

When he switched the cloth to the other cheek, you exhaled shakily and caught his wrist. His eyes flicked to yours, finally catching your gaze. He blinked, another one of those toothless, tight-lipped smiles breezing over his lips. It was painted with pity.

Wrapping both hands around the warmth of his forearm, you tipped your cheek into his palm and the soapy, damp cloth encompassed around it. Steve sighed, chest deflating beneath that handsome polo. In the fluorescents of the bathroom, he looked prettier than ever. You were smaller than he'd ever seen you, crumpled and disheveled.

"You drank too much again." He said it the way he orders a cheeseburger in the drive-thru: casual, predictable, cool. He expected this.

That's what always hurt you most.

Your mouth opened to utter a reply, but all that came was a shuttered breath. Your lip downturned, jutting out in a petulant pout that made him ache. He swiped two fingers, cool from the cloth and scented of clean soap, across your temple and into your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

"Just felt sad," you admitted lowly, rubbing your hand along his arm.

Steve placed his hand against your other cheek, suddenly cradling your face. His thumb made circles in your sticky skin—firm, tender, just the way you used to like it. Your eyes fluttered closed, head falling deeper into his hold.

"About what?" His voice was so soft, so small. The rest of the world fell away outside of his tiny, outdated bathroom.

You scoffed humorlessly, head shaking. You opened your eyes again as you fiddled with his watch. "You know what."

Steve's gaze rolled over your face, swollen and pink, stuck in a defeated frown. He wondered if you'd remember this in the morning, or if it'd be another night you fell fuzzy on.

"Yeah...yeah, I know, baby."

You huffed, breath hot and laced with liquor across his arm. "M' sorry. M' sorry I made you come out here, and...m' just...m' just sorry—"

"—hey, come on—"

"—no, Steve...m' a mess. Everyone's right about me."

The pads of Steve's fingers scratched at your scalp, and you hated how easily you purred like a kitten at his touch. Your neck craned, and if it weren't for his hand holding your head up, you might've lied down right there on the sink. Inebriation had its claws in you deep.

"Hey," he cooed, urging your head up with his wash-clothed hand. "Don't talk like that."

When you did nothing but continue to frown and sniffle, Steve sighed and steadied you upright. "C'mon, lemme finish cleanin' you up."

Your shoulders slumped, head bobbing gently. "Okay."

Steve chuckled, rubbing your other cheek with the soapy cloth. "Okay."

You were pliant to his pulling and prodding, allowing him to clean you without complaint. He tucked your hair behind your ears when your face was washed, and filled a Dixie cup with cool water for you to drink. He rested his hands on your bare knees as he watched you gulp it down, patting them when you were done.

"All done?"

You nodded, handing him the paper cup. He tossed it in the trash bin, nudging your chin up with two fingers. "Hey. You with me?"

You nodded again. "Mhm."

"I'm gonna take you home, okay?"

You grasped his hand, pushing your fingers through his. "Okay."

He helped you off the counter, but he didn't drop your hand. He held it as he guided you through the dark bedroom and into the hall, using it to pull you into his side to fit through the crowd. When you made it to the kitchen, you were stopped by your friends, and you pressed your head to Steve's firm back as their voices melded into a yell.

"Oh, fuck off, Munson, seriously, this is none of your business. Last I checked, our relationship only involved the two of us."

"What relationship? You broke up—weeks ago, by the way, in case you forgot—"

"—I didn't forget," Steve hissed, side-stepping and pulling you with him to avoid Eddie. "And for the last time, it’s none of your business.”

You peered back at the group of your friends huddled near the sink as Steve steered you toward the back door. You knew they were disappointed—you could see it in their empty eyes and pursed lips. You could see it in the way Gwen had to rub Eddie’s arm to calm him down. Because the two of you were making a mistake, and you’d never move on if you kept crawling back to each other every chance you got.

But maybe you didn’t want to move on, and maybe Steve didn’t either.

Steve took you home that night, and sat you on the end of the bed. He pulled your dress down your legs and replaced it with a big t-shirt: sunshine yellow, drenched in Steve. He tucked you under the blankets and kissed your head. And then he crawled in beside you, and held you the whole night.

He took you home, where you belonged: with him. And he didn’t know if you’d wake the next morning wondering where you were, or happy to see him nuzzled in your neck, but Steve was willing to roll the dice. For now, he could pretend this was how it always was, and that you never left.

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #joe keery #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #king steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve the hair harrington #joe keery fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfiction

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eddiesxangel · 6 months

Text

Wildflower Pt.2 | Rockstar!Eddie x Pop!Princess Reader

Summary: After your breakup with Eddie, you got everything you’d ever wanted. The career, the success, the fame, but something was still missing.

Cw: no use of y/n reader is referred by pet names. Eddie x Afab girly girl reader, no descriptions of reader is used other than what they are wearing (we like to keep it inclusive in this house) ANGST mentions mental health struggles, prescription medication, alcohol consumption, mentions of weight loss due to mental health issues, mentions of underage drinking, SMUT soft Dom Eddie, daddy kink? FLUFF so much you might wanna vomit lol, pregnancy 👀

WC: 22.5k lol

Read part 1 here

Rain, he wanted it comfortable I wanted that pain. He wanted a brideI was making my own name.Chasing that fame. He stayed the same. All of me changed like midnight.

As you stepped off the stage of the last show of your sold-out stadium tour, the adrenaline rush pulsed through your veins. Happy tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. You have been working your ass off these past four years.

Four Years.

It has been four years since your career took off and hasn’t stopped—four years since your single went number one for thirty-six weeks straight on Billboard 100. Four years since you last saw Eddie. The way you'd left things haunts you to this day.

The first year after the breakup was the hardest. You were nothing but a shell of yourself; you put on a front with everyone. If you let yourself think about Eddie, you wouldn’t have been able to climb out of the hole you had dug yourself out of. You couldn’t muster up the motivation to do anything for yourself when alone. You worked and went home to sleep, wake up and repeat, like a machine.

You stopped going to events you didn’t need to be at. You punish yourself by not allowing yourself to have any fun. You felt like you didn’t deserve it.

You had lost a lot of weight that year, unable to keep anything down. Your body was in severe malnutrition, and your doctor was worried. You were prescribed some medication to help stabilize your moods. You blamed it on stress, that the job was the problem, brushing it off like you would get over it eventually, or at least that is what you told yourself. That was your life the year you and Eddie broke up.

Eventually, as the years went on, you found better ways to cope with the loss of Eddie and Violet Rose in your life. Slowly, you started dating again about a year later, but everything was different from what you experienced with Eddie. You didn’t have that spark you felt with Eddie. But was that real? Or was it all built up?

Seeing Eddie back in the limelight as a single man broke your heart, and seeing him taking out different girls was so painful it made you physically sick. You first saw him out with another woman only two months after you ended things… Did he even really love you? You'd convinced yourself that Eddie must have been caught up with everything that he only thought he was in love with you? And now that you were out of the picture, he realized that it was just lust, nothing more... because how did it only take two months until he was out with another woman?

The hardest part about this was avoiding him at all the award shows and parties. Your worlds were intertwined, your label was the same, your career had taken off after the breakup, and you were invited to more Hollywood events. It was difficult when you knew he was in the room with you, especially with another girl by his side.

You were still so desperately in love with him after all this time…

It was never the same girl; he was back to his old ways, sleeping around with anyone who got the chance. But luckily, you never ran into him because the second you got word he was there, you were gone, making your last memory of him when he walked out of the door in Italy. You had shattered his heart. Broke it into a million pieces, or so you thought. He told you he was in love with you, and you couldn’t say it back. Year after year, things started to get easier; once the tabloids got bored about the breakup and Eddie was seen with different women, the focus was no longer on you. You had thrown yourself into your songs.

Your songs became #1 hits less than a week after each release. You had been that good, a bit too good. Your work was the only thing you let yourself focus on. Everything had to be great, or all of this would have been for nothing. The more writing you did, the more focused you were on your music and the less time you had to think about Eddie. That was the whole point of the breakup, right? Because you used Eddie only to help your career…

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Life for Eddie Munson over the past four years had been the worst of his entire life, and he once had been addicted to coke. He did not expect his early forties would be so…depressing. When you had ended things with him, he never felt that kind of earth-shattering heartbreak before, not when his second try at passing his senior year didn’t pan out, not when Sarafina left him alone with their baby, and not when his parents abandoned him.

He was too stubborn to grovel; you had told him that you clearly were just doing this for yourself. He had let his emotions get in the way; it was all his fault. He saw that now. He knew that you loved him back, but he was scorned. He wouldn’t be the one to reach out. The story was out; nothing more could be done. He didn’t have the heart to give up the ring he had bought for you. Night after night, Eddie would sit up and stare at it. He hugged your pillow because your scent lingered in the room until one day, it was gone.

One morning, a few weeks after the breakup, Eddie was awakened to the sweet smell of vanilla and cinnamon wafting through the house; for a split second, he thought you had returned to him. He ran downstairs looking for you, but reality hit like a brick when he followed the scent to the kitchen to see Vi had ordered Cinnabon to the house. She offered him his share, thinking it would cheer him up, but it had only made Eddie nauseous. He could no longer stomach the sweet smell that reminded him of you.

Longing for you to be by his side, he cried night after night, hating himself for feeling so pathetic and unwanted. That’s how his whole life was; he should have known better. His parents didn’t want him, and the mother of his child didn’t want him, so what would make you any different?

Your breakup not only affected Eddie’s life but also Violet Rose’s. Scorned by how you never even said goodbye, she was hurt. She begged Eddie to let her talk to you, but Eddie refused to speak your name. Your music no longer brought her joy; only waves of sadness washed over her when she heard you on the radio. She couldn’t escape; you haunted her just as much as you haunted Eddie.

Violet Rose felt the change in her father when he got back from his vacation in Italy. She was so excited to see him; she missed the both of you profoundly, but when she greeted her dad when he returned, she could sense something was off. When she went to let off her hug, and he didn't, she knew. She could feel how tense he was, how tightly he held onto her. The way he almost let a tear slip and the sniffle he made in her ear gave it away. He hadn't reacted like this when he was away from her for months on tour the year prior. When he finally let go of her, she needn't ask. She knew his eyes were bloodshot and swollen; he wasn't bubbly and didn't hum anymore. She knew her father's heart wasn't the same.

The older Vi got, the more she resented her father for not ever letting her know who her birth mother was. On top of that, she wasn’t allowed to talk about you. She didn’t understand why because Eddie never explained what happened. All she knew was that before he left for Italy, he had asked her if it would be okay if you were to be in their lives permanently. He showed her the pink diamond ring. The ring that to this day still sits in Eddie’s bedside table drawer. She had found it a few weeks back while trying to find the weed she knew her dad had hidden somewhere when he caught her smoking by the pool.

That was the last straw for Violet Rose. Violet Rose no longer cared about consequences after seeing the reminder of why their lives had changed so dramatically. You didn’t, so why should she? You made her think that you never cared. How could you be so cruel to just leave her? You were going to be her Mom. She had believed that she was finally going to get a mother; the one thing she craved the most her whole life was ripped out from under her.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Tonight was the night of a new club opening, and Roger ensured you were on the VIP list, not that it took much convincing for you to go. You wanted to get dolled up and have some fun with your girlfriends. You pre-gamed and got ready at your best friend Serena's house tonight.

Over the last few months, you've been feeling much better, finally getting out of the house for more than just work. You started seeing your friends more than twice a year, attending dinners and events with them. You were also being weaned off of your medication because your Dr. decided that your mind and body were going back to your old self, and you insisted you were feeling better.

"Tonight we are finding you a man!” you announced as you blended the pink blusher onto your cheek.

"Me? How about you, Ms. Chronically single?" she laughed, sipping her drink that smelled like gasoline. All you could do was roll your eyes. It had become easier thinking about Eddie, but it was still a sore subject you didn't speak of much.

"Oh, don't be like that; it was a million years ago," she giggled. The alcohol Serena was downing played a part in being so bold to bring it up. She had met you two years after the breakup; she didn’t know the whole story but knew it was terrible. Nobody knew the story but your parents and Eddie.

“Fine, tonight I will be reckless and throw all caution to the wind." You took a shot of tequila. The burn was quickly chased by the taste of lime. A loud cheer came from your best friend and twirled you around her bedroom. Laughing, you told her you needed her help picking out an outfit. You both decided on the strappy open-back hot pink silk minidress that made you feel like ten million bucks and your hot pink Louis Vuitton heels that matched the exact colour of the dress. Fitting for a Club named The Red Bottom’s.

Tonight, you felt like you needed to celebrate, wondering what you were celebrating, maybe because you made it out alive? Becoming yourself again? All the hard work you've put in the past four years? You didn't know... what you did know was tonight you were having fun.

Walking into the dimly lit club named The Red Bottom’s you could feel the beat of the music pulse through your veins as you watched the different colours light up the dance floor. It was packed already, and it was only midnight. You grabbed your friend's hand and dragged her to the bar. Ordering your shots, you pull out your wallet, but the bartender stops you. "Already covered" He nodded his head over to the other end of the bar, and you both made eye contact with two guys.

From what you could tell, they were about your age, tall, fit, typical Hollywood, and so not your type. Serena grabbed your hand and pulled you over. You checked your phone to see where the rest of your group was, and they told you they had a booth on the left side of the club.

"Thanks for the drinks." Serena batted her eyes and smiled as you stood by. They introduced themselves; their names were Patrick and Ray. The more you stood with them, the more antsy you got about wanting to get with the rest of the group.

"Love the new song, by the way." Your head snaps up from your phone, and you give the guy talking a small smile. "Thanks." Great, just another try-hard trying to get into your pants. Trying hard not to roll your eyes, you look to Serena and let her know you're joining the rest of the group.

Finally breaking through the sea of people on the dance floor, you made your way to the booth tucked away in the back corner. A slew of cheers filled your ears as you approached your friends.

Serena returned to the booth five minutes later with the two guys on her tail.

"You promised me," She whispered, climbing up to you.

"I did promise you, but I didn't promise it would be with one of these two.” You nodded your head in the men’s direction. Serena gave you an annoyed huff.

"Ok, look, you know that none of them are even my type; you have all the fun you want! Hell, take them both.” You giggled. “I will still be scouting." With that, she laughed and told you to go have a fun time. As you settled with your drink, she went to the dance floor.

You didn't take long to rejoin Serena for a dance after you finished your cocktail. Scouting the crowd for a man didn’t take much either; being who you are and being in the hottest new club, it didn’t take long for you to find a guy. Your newfound confidence radiated from you, and you spotted him across the room. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome. If you were to look it up in the dictionary, this man’s picture would be there. His rugged, rough edges had you hooked the moment your eyes met. Biting your lip, you wiggled your finger to get him to come to you. It had been so long since you last danced with someone like this. You were excited, and it felt good. This man towered over you, feeling his body swallow you, and he ground his hips against yours. Serena gave you a wink of approval; all she wanted was for you to have fun and let go.

It felt like you had been dancing for hours. You needed a break and another drink, so you returned to the booth. As you try to make your way back, not looking like baby Bambi holding on to a tall, dark, and handsome man, you discover his name is Maddox; you accidentally bump into someone.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!'" You turn to apologize.

“Watch where you are going, Bitch” she slurred over the music.

“Excuse you?” You turn to get a good look at who it is, and you feel your heart in your throat. You look like you have seen a ghost as all the blood from your face drains. You drop Maddox’s hand and bring it up to your mouth. There she was. Four years since she saw you last. However, you would know that face from anywhere.

Violet Rose was staring at you. Dumbfounded. Her big brown doe eyes go wide, still precisely like her father’s, at the realization of who you are, and then her face drops into more of a scowl. Looking confused, the much older man standing beside her wraps his arm around her protectively.

You instinctively grab her hand to pull her away. “Hey, get your hands off of her,” The guy yells over the loud bass. He is definitely your age or older.

“I’ll let you know she is sixteen,” you scowl. The guy's hand shoots up off of Violet, and he practically runs away from the both of you.

“How dare you! How could you do this to us?!” She screamed, finally breaking.

“I’m trying to protect you!” It was so hard to yell over the music.

“Not him!” She flails her arms in the creep's direction. “To me and Dad!”

She was causing a scene, and you didn’t know what to do; your emotions took over, and you wrapped your arms around the little girl your heart yearned for.

“I am so sorry, baby. Please forgive me?” You broke, you missed her and her father so much. Even though you weren’t her mother, you were the closest thing she had for a little while. You’re not sure how long you’re hugging her, crying, in the middle of a nightclub when the reality of where you were clicked in.

"What the hell are you even doing in here?! We are leaving!” You were furious; how on earth was she let into a club? When the fuck did she grow up to become a woman? And how was she allowed to leave the house dressed like this? You didn’t even own stilettos that high.

Violet Rose felt all the blood drain from her face. She was in so much trouble.

“Your father know where you are?” You arched your brows at her.

“Poppy, look, don’t tell my Dad! Please? I’ll go home right now, I swear,” She begged.

“Absolutely not, get.” You pointed towards the exit and called Tony to bring your car to the front. You didn’t even say goodbye to Serena or Tall, dark and handsome; you just beelined the both of you to the door.

You stop by the club promoter and bouncers outside as you exit the club. “I don’t know what kind of place you think you are running, but letting in a sixteen-year-old?!” You yell, drawing attention to yourself. Even though it was two in the morning, there were still paps all around, trying to catch a glimpse of the stars entering and exiting The Red Bottoms. The flashing lights were blinding, but you couldn't care less at this moment.

“I'm going to sue this place! I should call the cops for letting in minors! Better yet, I’ll tell her father! Do you know who her father is? Eddie Munson, that’s who!” You shoved your pointer finger into the chest of the club promoter and looked at you blankly.

When you turned, you saw Violet Rose standing there, embarrassed at the commotion you had just made. She looked so small as you walked back over to her; even though she had grown into a beautiful young woman, she was starting to look like her mother. The mother she never got a chance to get to know. You wondered if she knows now that she is older?

“Get in the car.” You point at your pink G Wagon.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.” She hugs her arms around herself.

“Nice try, in.” You were not falling for this act; you had been sixteen once, too.

“What about your guy?” She asked, deflecting.

“What guy?” You totally forgot about Tall Dark and Handsome.

“You were with a guy when I bumped into you and-”

“And called me a bitch?” You finished her sentence. “I don’t know. I met him half an hour ago.” You brushed it off.

“Oh, so you’re not with anyone?” You saw a hint of sparkle in her eye.

“Violet Rose get. in. the. car.” You are not having this conversation with her right now surrounded by paps.

“Fine.” Violet Rose got into the car. A small part of her was happy to see you again; she just wished they were in different circumstances.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Eddie jolted awake in a cold sweat; his heart sank as he glanced at the clock that read 2:47 a.m. He knew something was wrong as he jumped out of bed, not bothering to put on pants, running out of his room in only his underwear and rushed to Violet Roses's room. He opened the door to see that her window was open and she wasn’t there.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit” He had a guttural instinct that VR wasn’t here, but he had to check everywhere.

He first checked her bathroom to see if she had gotten up. She begged him to stay home with her tonight because she was sick. He was supposed to attend a club opening tonight, but how could he leave his Cupcake? Especially when she gave him the puppy dog eyes? They may not have been getting along recently, but he still was the biggest pushover when it came to her.

They had a good night, other than the fact that she was sick; it was like old times. They curled up on the couch and watched movies; he made her soup, and they enjoyed one another’s company. Something that hasn’t happened in a long time. It made Eddie realize that it was too long; he had been moping around for too long and needed to change, or he would lose VR forever.

Eddie frantically ran to every other room of the house, calling out her name when he didn’t find her in the bathroom. He was shaking with panic.

Eddie went back to his bedroom to check his phone to see if he missed any calls or texts, but not one was from Violet Rose or about her. Where the fuck was she? As he calls her phone repeatedly, he runs outside to see if she is out there. Ring after ring, the phone goes to voicemail. He had reached the end of the driveway behind the gate that was still closed. His heart skipped a beat when he saw two headlights of a bubblegum pink G Wagon pulling up to the gates of his estate. He instinctively knows that gaudy thing has to belong to you.

With a deep breath, Eddie opened the gate. The driver slowly pulled up and got out to open the door. Violet Rose is the first to step out and Eddie feels like he can breathe again. She is home, and she is safe. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, but all that relief washes away the second he sees you step out of the car behind her.

He can feel the anxiety shooting through his arms to the tips of his fingers. He doesn’t understand what is happening. Was Violet Rose hanging out with you behind his back? Was she trying to get back at him? Why would his baby be with you? And why was his baby dressed like that?!

“Start talking” is all Eddie manages to get out through his teeth. His hands balled up into fists, trying to regulate his breathing.

You open your mouth to start to explain what happened, but the sight of Eddie standing there in his boxers, chest heaving, you get too overwhelmed at the sight. There is no denying that your attraction to Eddie is still there. You had been mesmerized by the way he looked; his crow's feet were a bit more defined, he was accepting his silver hairs coming in, his skin was pebbled with goosebumps as it was early spring in the middle of the night, and he was practically naked. He was still just as fit, maybe even more so, fuck he made 44 look good. So you stand there with your mouth agape, gawking at him like a moron, until Violet Rose cuts in.

“Hi, Daddy,” it had come out so meek.

“Don’t hi, Daddy. WHERE WERE YOU?” he belted. His face was beat red. You had never seen or heard Eddie so mad, not even on that dreaded day.

“I found her at the Red Bottom's,” You cut in, giving some slack for Violet Rose.

“The Red Bottom's? THE RED BOTTOM'S!” It hits him: the new club downtown that he was supposed to attend tonight for the grand opening but didn’t attend because Vi was “sick” and needed to take care of her.

“Inside now.” He was seething, pointing towards the house. Things did not look good for VR. You took that as your cue to leave as you saw her sulk off to the house with her head down. Turning back to the car, you think to yourself this was it. This was your only chance to see him again, and you stood there like a brainless zombie, just ogling him.

“I didn’t dismiss you.” You stop mid-stride and turn slowly as his deep voice filters through your ears.

“Excuse me?” You question, slowly turning back around.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eddie was still seething.

“What am I doing?” You countered back.

“Violet Rose is sneaking off to be with you behind my back! How long has this been going on!?” He accused.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Eddie?” Hearing his name leave your lips was like a gut punch.

“This is all your fault!” He accused again.

“Oh, this is my fault?! How is this my fault? You’re lucky I spotted her and dragged her ass home! You don’t even want to know who she was with when I found her! You’re lucky I did because if I hadn’t, she would still be there doing god knows what with who knows what!” You got in his face. How dare he accuse you of bringing harm to her! You love that kid more than life like she is your own.

“You know what?!” He counters back.

“What?!” You yell.

What Eddie did next was something so unexpected that it caught you off guard.

“Thank you.” He pulled you into a bear hug. “I was so scared; I didn’t know where she was.” He confessed in a whisper because you were right. Who knows what could have happened to his baby? He was so distraught and mad about the past, but you put his family first after all these years.

“Eddie, I am so sorry. For everything.” You whisper, finally reciprocating the hug by latching your arms around him. He still smelled the same; it brought comfort, wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you never wanted to leave.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He shook his head, releasing you. In his fit of rage, he didn’t get to take you in. Fuck. You were more beautiful to him than memories served.

“No, Eddie. I mean for everything.” You looked down, ashamed that you let things go this far.

“Oh. I am sorry, too.” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I uh, fuck - I’ll always love you, and uh and Violet. You know that? Right?” You look up at him with glassy eyes, tears threatening to break free. The words he prayed to hear for the past four years finally left your lips. He didn’t know what to think or say. “And I still- shit. I’m sorry you don’t want me- I’m going to go.” You turn, but Eddie catches your forearm to pull you back into him.

“I let you leave once; don’t for a second think that I am going to let you go again.”

Not giving it a second thought, Eddie crashed his lips into yours, and everything fell back into place at that moment. The missing puzzle piece had been found and restored back into its space.

“Angel, I am still so in love with you; you’re my entire world. Always have been. Always will be.” He mumbled against your mouth. Eddie could no longer be mad at you; he would not waste another moment on being angry and sad. The last few years of his life were full of it, and he was ready to let that all go because here you are, telling him you love him.

“I’m so sorry, Baby.” You let your tears finally slip past your lashes.

The closure you had been craving was no longer gnawing at your mind. Eddie loves you and never has stopped long you. You had wasted so much time being sad and lonely. But could it really just be that easy? He would accept you back just like that? So much time has passed, and you are not the same people from four years ago.

“So what now?” You asked, pulling back.

“You’re mine.” Eddie pulled you back in to kiss you; he had so much lost time to make up for.

“Eddie, I- what about everything? Do you even trust me? I wouldn’t trust me…” You looked down as the feeling of shame washed over you. You were so stupid for letting him go.

“Angel, look at me.” He hooked a finger under your chin. No one has called you that name since you left Eddie. Hearing it made your stomach erupt with butterflies. “We will have to work on things, but I am not ever letting you go. I won’t survive if I have to lose you again. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your eyes widen as the words slip past your lips. It was instinct to address him that way.

“That's my good girl” He gave a cocky smirk and leaned in to kiss you. He couldn’t get enough; his lifeline had been restored. All of the sadness within him was being plucked away with each brush of your lips.

Sure, you and Eddie had a lot to work on, but Eddie didn’t care. He had his girl back, his Angel. Things wouldn’t return to normal immediately; he knew that… you knew that. Eddie thought about how he would have to cancel the “date” he had set up for tomorrow as you gave him a last kiss goodbye. Watching you get back into the car was hard, but then he remembered that he had to deal with VR. What the fuck was this night turning into?

“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you.” Eddie walked back into the house to see Violet Rose sitting on the staircase.

“Daddy, do you think?” She was hopeful that what she saw through the window could lead to something more. Something that could bring her family back together.

“Don’t change the subject.” His head was spinning; he didn’t need to discuss his love life with his sixteen-year-old right after she had snuck out of the house.

“No phone, no TV, no internet, no going out. You go to school, and you come home. That is final.”

“What?! That’s so unfair. For how long?!” She cried.

“Until I say so. Phone, now.” He held out his hand, and she reluctantly placed it on his palm.

“Don’t you dare ever scare me like that again?! Got it! Now apologize.” He commanded.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, but I’m not sorry for sneaking out tonight.” She smirked.

“Excuse you?” Eddie was shocked.

“If I hadn’t gone out tonight, she wouldn’t have brought me home, and you wouldn’t have that stupid smile on your face.”

“What stupid smile?” Eddie scowled just to prove a point.

“Nice try, old man, can’t fool me; I saw you walking up the driveway.” Violet Rose laughed as she made her way up the stairs. Maybe her punishment wouldn’t be so bad if her dad was finally happy again.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The next day, you had been flooded with missed calls from Roger, and the press had a feel day with your little outburst, all of it being caught on TMZ, of course.

“Sweetheart, what did you do?” You could no longer avoid the sixth call from him.

“Look, Rog, I had a lot of alcohol, and Violet Rose was there; she is only sixteen. What was I supposed to do?-”

“Nothing,” Roger cut in.

“Absolutely not. I have morals, Roger.” You could just picture how he was sitting at his desk, pinching his brows because you knew you were giving him a headache.

“Look, everyone is going to be poking around, thinking you and Munson are back together. Now I know that contract has ended an-”

“We are back together,” you cut him off. There was a few seconds of silence because he needed to process what you had just said.

“What?” He asked.

“I said Eddie and I are back together. For real, no contracts, no bullshit.” You couldn’t get the stupid grin off of your face if you had tried.

“Oh, well, um, wow, this is unexpected; I’m so happy for you!"

“Really?” Your voice went up an octave.

“Of course, sweetheart, this is excellent news; I have been worried about you; something in you changed, and you tried to cover it up, but I know you… and also will bring up more publicity. Everyone loves it when couples get back together! Look at J-Lo and Affleck; no one could stop talking about them for weeks!”

“Well, I guess this whole nightclub thing will blow over?” You wince, biting your thumb.

“Should be fine; when are you announcing your relationship? How long has it been?” Roger questioned.

“Oh, um, well, it just happened last night, so let's give it a few weeks and see how things play out…” fuck, this was not supposed to be another publicity stunt.

“Understandable. I’ll contact you in a few days to see what’s happening, OK? Kisses”

“Bye Rog” You hung up the phone to see Eddie was calling you.

Eddie asked you to meet up with him today and go on a walk to clear up things. You felt an overwhelming sense of being home when he opened his door. He was still in the same house, and it looked like only a little visually had changed over the years.

Eddie greeted you with a hug and a kiss that lingered for a while. The familiarity of his lips on yours gave you an overwhelming sense of comfort. He made you feel at home.

Eddie took your hand and closed the door behind him, ready to go.

You just walked through the neighbourhood, having it be a gated community; no one would bother the two of you.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Same, but I’m happy that it is.” Eddie brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of your hand.

“I don’t really know where to begin…” you trailed off, looking out at the California skyline.

“Let’s start off with how have you been?” Eddie genuinely asked.

“Honestly, I’ve been doing much better than I had been over the last few years. I was in an awful place after it all happened. I wanted to talk with you badly but knew you hated me.” You looked down at your shoes, still ashamed about how you left things.

“I could never hate you, Angel. I was stubborn and so hard-headed that I refused to grovel. But I regret every day that passed that I didn’t try to get you back.” Eddie admitted.

“Really?” You look at him with shock. You had convinced yourself that Eddie was never in love with you that the thought of him being heartbroken escaped your mind.

“Of course, Angel. Don’t you remember where I was taking you when… uh-”

“When I ran away…. Yeah, I remember. But I convinced myself that it was just... I don't know? lust…”

“Hmmm,” that caught Eddie off guard. What could he have done to make you think he wasn’t being raw and honest with you?

Eddie debated whether he should tell you about the ring as you walked in uncomfortable silence. He decided against it; he felt it wouldn’t be right.

“I never asked how you have been?” You look to Eddie as he is lost in thought.

“Bad. No sense in lying to you. I’m sure Vi will tell you eventually.” He sighed.

Your heart dropped at his confession. He seemed to be doing well. He was the hottest bachelor at the moment.

“I feel like a broken record, but I’m truly sorry, Eddie. I was such a mess after everything, and I thought you hated me, so I couldn’t talk to you, and it got so bad I couldn’t get out of bed. My doctor put me on meds because I literally didn’t want to do anything, and I missed you and Violet Rose so bad! I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. Not to make this about me, but I just wanted to let you know my decision was wrong, and I hated myself daily. And I will try my best to make it up to both of you. I promise I’ll never leave you like that ever again…. That's if you’ll have me.”

“Your doctor put you on medication?” He looked at you with concern.

“Ugh, yeah. I’m slowly coming off of them now; it’s been about two months. I’m feeling a lot better.” You admit

“Jesus Angel. You should have told me! I would have done anything for you, you know that, right?” He said as he pulled you into a hug.

“I do now,” you whisper.

“And I’m sorry as well. I should have never yelled at you like that. I felt awful the second I left you standing there alone in that big empty house… I sold it, by the way… I couldn’t go back. The memories were too… sour.” He looked down to his chest.

“Well, I can’t stomach Italian food anymore… makes me sick even thinking about it.” You admit with a shudder, trying to lighten the mood.

“And I can’t eat Cinnamon Rolls anymore because of you,” he admits.

You look at him quizzically.

“Reminded me too much of your perfume… it uh… made me sick whenever I smelled vanilla and cinnamon.” He shrugged

You looked at him with such sorrow. The both of you were so fucked up by what happened. How could you ever work through this? There was so much hurt to overcome.

“Enough about the past. We are on the same page. We have years to make up for.” Eddie brought your lips to him for a gentle kiss. You wanted so badly to deepen the kiss, but you were in the middle of the suburbs, and any stay-at-home mom desperate for gossip could clock the two of you in a second.

Eddie pulled away, and you made your way back to his place. Once you arrived, Eddie invited you inside.

“So where is the little criminal?” You asked, entering the living room. Memories flood back to when you would have sleepovers and make forts and Disney movie marathons.

“Present.” She came waltzing through from the kitchen.

“Hi Vi,” you walk over to her to embrace her in a hug. It shouldn’t have surprised you when she didn’t hug you back.

“I’m so sorry for how I left things, but I don’t know how much your dad told you?” You look to Eddie and see him shake his head no. “I, uh, I think you are old enough to know some details?” You and Eddie discussed on your way back home that VR also had to be on board for this to work. She had to know the truth.

“Come sit, Cupcake.” Eddie patted the couch cushion next to him.

You and Eddie then explained how, at first, the entire thing was a sham, but you ended up falling for one another in the end, but things had to break off because of the contract.

“You’re joking?” That was Violet Rose’s first response.

“Unfortunately not,” You speak up.

“That is the most fucked up and stupid thing I think I’ve ever heard.” she rolled her eyes.

“Hey, language. Don’t make me extend your punishment.” Eddie pointed to her.

“I’m sorry, but you’re telling me I am supposed to believe you two broke up because of a piece of paper?” She stares dumbfounded.

“Well, yeah, that’s what happened…” Eddie shifted his gaze to you.

“And you didn’t think to... I don't know? SNEAK AROUND?!” She flailed her arms in the air.

“Uh… no, actually, that never crossed my mind.” Eddie looked at you, and you shrugged.

“You don’t get it. Cupcake things were not that black and white; it was complicated.”

“Whatever, can I go to my room now?” She rolled her eyes.

“Fine, go.” Eddie sighed.

“Don't worry, she will come around eventually. She was excited last night and started questioning if we would be back together.” Eddie smirked.

That made you feel better; you would hate for Violet Rose not to see you in the same light as before.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A month passed, and yours and Eddie’s schedules conflicted. You were recording your new album, and Eddie was busy with the band. Nothing had been coordinated until today, your first official date, and you told Eddie you were planning the whole thing because it was the least you could do for him.

You drove to Eddie’s house mid-afternoon to pick him up.

“Absolutely not.” As you pulled up in your baby pink vintage convertible Cadillac, he shook his head. Eddie Munson may be a sim, however, he still has an image to keep up with. He would not be seen being chauffeured in a pink car, especially by his woman. He was old school, and he would be the one driving them.

“What do you mean?” You pout. God, he was such a sucker for that face you pull, but he would stand his ground.

“I’m driving,” Eddie stated plainly.

“But I’m the one treating you.” You state.

“Don’t care. Not going in that gaudy thing.” He crossed his arms.

You roll your eyes as you unwillingly step out of the car.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that.” His tone was serious, but his eyes said otherwise as he took your hand and kissed the top of it.

“Hi, Princess.” He smiled

“Hi, Baby.” Everything felt right again like nothing had changed.

“Just tell me where we are going.” Eddie walked around to the passenger side to open the door for you. You ignored his request as you got into his black Bentley Continental. You punched the address into the GPS and were on your way.

“Le Labo?” Eddie questions when you arrive at the destination.

“It’s a custom perfumery. Since you said you can’t stomach mine anymore, I called and made an appointment to make one for each other?” You bite your nails in anticipation. Did he hate the idea? Was it too boring?

“This is not what I was expecting at all, Angel, but this is really cool.” he pulled you into his side as you walked into the building.

After smelling all the smells and finally deciding on a concoction for one another, your perfumes were complete, and you could take them home. For Eddie’s, you choose notes of nutmeg, white musk, and jasmine. You named his Dungeon Master. Eddie picked a more floral scent for yours with notes of tuberose, jasmine, and tonka bean and called it Angel Wings. He made you wear it as soon as you stepped out of the perfumery.

The next stop for your date was your house. Eddie had never been to your home. You managed to buy one two years ago and were able to sell your condo. You were happy to have a new space, one with happy memories.

You managed to snag a bungalow in Bel-Air for just under five million. It needed some updating, so you’ve been slowly making renovations. It was almost done to your liking; you just had to finish up the guest bathroom, and then it would be perfect.

The whole house was very you. In the kitchen was your favourite part of the home. The cabinets and countertops were white, and the backsplash, appliances, and cookware were all pink. The house was an open concept, which you loved; it was very light and airy with little clutter, but it looked homey. It's very much the exact opposite of Eddie’s interior decor. There were floor-to-ceiling windows all over that let in a lot of natural light. You had a massive sectional in the living room that you often fell asleep on because it was that comfortable. Your favourite part of the house was the living room that opened into the back patio, which led into the pool. Your garden was lush and complete; a giant hedge that acted as a privacy wall surrounded the yard so no one could see in. It was your own little piece of paradise.

“I didn't know you moved?” Eddie asked, pulling into your driveway.

“How could you’ve?” Even though the two of you had made up, the wounds were still fresh. You didn’t mean anything by your comment, but you sensed it irked Eddie.

“I’m sorry-

“Angel, if you apologize one more time,” he gives you a look of warning before stepping out of the car and running over to your side.

Some things never change.

“So what is next on the schedule?” Eddie asked as he followed you into your home.

“Thought I could cook you dinner.” You smile as you lead the both of you into the kitchen.

You hear Eddie chuckle behind you.

“What?” You turn, arms crossed, to see him examining your space.

“I expected nothing less from you.” He chuckled as he pulled you into him by the waist.

Eddie leaned down to kiss you. This was the first kiss you shared since reuniting almost four weeks ago. You lean into it as you uncross your arms to wrap them around the back of his neck. The kiss was tentative at first, nothing but a small peck. Eddie tested the waters as he slowly leaned into you, but you needed more. You pressed into Eddie, raising your tiptoes to press yourself fully into him. He got the hint as his strong hands slipped from your jaw and cascaded down past your waist to grip your ass. A moan slipped from your lips as he massaged his hands into you.

“Fuck, I missed your noises,” Eddie spoke into your mouth.

“Mmhmm” you hummed.

“I need you, Angel.” Eddie rubbed his hardening length into your lower abdomen.

“What about dinner?” You pant into his open mouth.

“I’ve waited long enough for you; dinner can wait.” Eddie pushed you back into the kitchen counter, and you took no time tugging at the bottom of his shirt, frantically lifting it over his head. You latch your mouth where his neck meets his collar, nipping and biting until you’ve marked your territory. Eddie whimpered as your hand grazed over the tent his hardened bulge created. Never had Eddie whined like this just from your touch. Eddie froze, unsure what was happening; his body had never reacted this way with anyone.

“Baby, you ok?” You whispered into his ear as your hand moulded around the thick shaft. There was a shift in the air; Eddie was at your mercy. He didn’t even correct you when you didn’t call him Sir. He nodded and swallowed hard. His heart was racing, his muscular chest was heaving up and down as you delicately traced your hands up to the button of his black trousers.

“Fuck baby, don’t tease me. I-I-” he shakes his head in a daze.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, baby, I’ll take care of you.” It’s the least you could do for him. You slide down to your knees, cadged between the kitchen cabinets and your boyfriend. You unzip his pants, and he shimmies out of them as fast as he can. Your mouth waters as Eddie's naked frame towers over you. His thick thighs flex as you run the tips of your long red nails over his flesh. You can see the defined muscle of his legs tighten as you get closer to the apex.

“Tell me what you want baby.” You graze your glossy lips over the underbelly of his shaft up to the silver ball of his piercing that you craved when you were all alone in the middle of the night.

“You,” he whispers as he cups your cheek with his right hand.

“What part of me do you want, Eddie?” You look up at him with eyes glazed with lust.

It’s been so long that you remember the first time you were on your knees for him. The thrill of the memory brings butterflies to your stomach.

“All of you.” Eddie pants.

“Uh-uh, naughty boy. Don’t get greedy,” you smirk as you slowly run your hand up and down his shaft.

“Your mouth, Angel. Gimme your mouth. Please.” The anticipation broke when your mouth engulfed his long thick cock into your mouth, wholly.

You tried your best to fit as much of him as you could. Did he get bigger over the past four years? No? That’s not possible? But you felt so full that you're memory failed you as you tried to get him all down your throat. You came back up in a gasp of air. A string of saliva connected your lips to his tip. You stroked your hand up and down the long shaft. Memorizing each vein as you did. You went back down, and that whimper came back.

Oh, the lovely little whine coming from Edie’s mouth was making your pussy flutter. You were starting to understand why he loved your moans and whimpers. Hearing them only made your arousal pool in your panties.

“Please, baby, I need you. I need you so bad.” Having Eddie begging for you was also a new experience that unlocked something in your brain. In all aspects of the term, this larger-than-life man at your mercy was turning you on in ways you never thought possible. You didn’t let up; you worked your tongue around his tip, then slid him back down your throat again.

“FUCK angel, please I don’t think I can last long. I need to fuck you, baby. Please let me fuck you; let me feel that pretty little pussy.” He was begging, and you were thriving. However, the need for him to fill you was becoming greater than the feeling he was giving you when he was begging, so you let up. With a pop, you let his throbbing member out of your mouth. Eddie hiked you up off the floor and started to strip you down as fast as he could.

“Where do you want me?” he asked as he kissed down your neck. He let a finger trail up your sticky inner thighs.

“Don’t care,” you shake your head.

“Bedroom?” He looks over his shoulder down the hall to where he assumes your room is.

“No time.” You turn so you’re bent over the kitchen countertop.

“Always so ready for me.” Eddie swiped a single digit up your wet slit.

“Fuck me, fuck me hard,” you pleaded.

“Yes, ma’am,” you heard the smirk in his voice.

Eddie tugged your hair as he pulled your head to the side so he could kiss you, it was sloppy and wet, so much tongue, but it didn’t matter when you felt the tip of his cock run up and down your folds. The metal ball of his ring was cool against your hot clit. Your body shivered as it brushed against you before slipping past your entrance. You pushed your body back into Eddie so he could fill you as fast as possible.

Eddie’s grip on your hair tightened as he yanked your head back so you were arching into him. The leverage he had using your head as a vice to slam into you over and over. His other hand explored your chest, harshly gripping your breast. You’re sure his fingertips will be scorched into your skin forever.

“Fuck I missed this pussy” he growled into your ear as his hot breath cascaded over your skin. The room was full of the wet sound of Eddie pounding into you. His harsh thrusts didn’t slow as he fucked himself into you. He pulled out entirely, and you cried at the loss of him.

“Just needed to taste you.” You felt his hands spread apart your cheeks. His warm tongue replaced his cock, travelling its way from one hole to the other. A feral moan left your lungs, and before you knew it, he was back hovering over you, guiding his cock back where it belonged.

“Nobody compares to you” his praises didn't match his movement; if you hadn’t known any better, you swore he was hate fucking you right now… and maybe he was? He had years of pent-up feelings about you.

“This is my pussy understand? It belongs to me and only me,” his grip finally left your hair as his hand slid down to your throbbing clit.

“Yes, Sir.” You cried as his fingertips made contact.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“I’m yours, baby. I am yours,” you spoke after each thrust up into you.

“Fuck I love you so much; tell me you love me. I need to hear it.” Eddie’s thrusts hadn’t let up; you were a bit shocked by the stamina; even your legs were about to give out.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” You chanted like a mantra. The feeling in your lower stomach was forming. Eddie kissed down the side of your neck; the butterflies were starting with each circle of his fingers, each harsh bite and nip at your neck, each thrust hitting you so deep, the spot you’d been so desperate to get to but no matter how many times you tried on your own you just couldn’t.

“I’m cumming!” Your body trembled, your pussy clenched down so hard you knew your body would soar in a few minutes.

“Shit, I’m close. Tell me how much you want me.” He spoke through his teeth.

“Please, Sir! Fill me, I want you so bad,” you cry.

“You want this cum baby? Do you want me to pump my load into you? That it? You want me to make you mine?” Eddie growled.

“Yes!” You nod.

After only a few more thrusts, Eddie came not long after you, pumping his load into you further and further until he slipped out of you. You collapse your body onto your kitchen counter as Eddie hangs his body weight over you, caging you in.

“Baby, you ok?” You feel Eddie wrap his arms around your middle.

“Yeah, just need to feel you.” He mumbled into the side of your neck. You could feel the warm cum dripping down your trembling legs. The realization hit you that you didn’t use protection. Your body stiffened, and Eddie caught on, “What’s wrong, baby?” He got up so you could turn to face him. You kissed him, not wanting to ruin the moment. He deserved one good day with you, and would a baby so bad? Having his baby. No, you dreamed of having his baby all the years ago.

Eddie deepened the kiss, and your thoughts dispersed; Eddie was the only thing clouding your brain. He picked you up, latching your legs around his waist.

“You going to show me your bedroom now, little lady?” He kissed down the other side of your neck, mirroring the marks he had left on the other side.

“Down the hall, second door on the left.” Eddie was already walking before you finished taking it. He entered your room and threw you on the bed to climb onto you.

“Really, you’re ready for round two?” Your question, even you still need some recovery time,

“You wound me, princess.” He drops his head as his large tattooed hand covers his heart. You then notice when he moved his hand that below where Violet Rose's name was etched into his skin over his heart was a tattoo you hadn’t seen before. A small pair of blacked-out angel wings with a halo hovering above.

Your hand shot up to trace over the ink in his skin.

“Eddie.” You whispered.

Eddie looked down to see what made your eyes glaze over. The realization that you hadn’t seen it yet hit him hard. He wasn’t sure why he acted on impulse that day, but something in him told him he had to keep you close to his heart, that he couldn’t let you go. So he got this tattoo dedicated to you a year after the breakup.

He cleared his throat; he was a little embarrassed by how desperate he was for you. How desperate he still is for you.

“Look, I-” You didn’t let him finish because you pulled him down into you by the back of his neck to kiss him. To really kiss him, a kiss to show him that you love him, that you always loved him, that you were sorry for ever hurting him.

“I love you,” you mumbled into his mouth. A shit-eating grin formed on Eddie’s face. He couldn’t get enough of you saying those words, and now you said it first, unprovoked. He slid down your body.

“Hey, where are you going?” You whined at the loss of his warm body hovering over you.

“I don’t get to worship my girl properly.” He parted your sticky legs.

“Eddie, you just came. You sure you want to?” You questioned, clamping your legs together.

“When has that ever stopped me before?” he pried open your knees. Not wasting another second, he was lapping at your clit, sending you into a cloudy euphoria.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

“Come home with me?” Eddie asked the following day. You’d been intertwined with one another all night, not leaving one another for a moment. Not even when you got up to go to the bathroom. You didn’t want to waste another second apart. You never thought you would be this happy again; the ecstasy flowing through you was giving you a high.

“I want you to meet Wayne.” he snuggled his head into the crook of your neck.

“I would love to,” you sighed.

“Good, we are going back in two weeks; Violet hasn’t seen her Pops in too long.” He smiled.

“You never told me much about him before?” You shifted in the sheets to face him.

You absentmindedly reached over to play with his hair.

“Not much to say,” he shrugged.

You gave him a pointed look that told him he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he chuckled. “He is a stubborn old grump who took me in when he didn’t need to. He really is a softy on the inside, especially when it comes to his granddaughter.” He sighed.

“Sounds like he is a really good guy,” you smile.

“He is, won’t admit it though, he is a very humble man, and it took years in order to convince him to live in the house I got him instead of the trailer I grew up in. I literally had to have it moved into the backyard with the house to convince him to leave that place.” He laughed.

You needed to meet the man who raised Eddie to thank him for doing such a good job. It meant so much to you that he would want you to meet him, especially after everything that happened.

“I can’t wait to meet him.” You kiss him gently.

“Good because I already told him you are coming. Gotta show off my girl to everyone.

Eddie’s words made your heart flutter. You still couldn’t believe this was happening and that he didn’t hate you.

The following two weeks had flown by. Trying to convince Violet Rose that you are staying for good was much more complex than you thought. She was very standoffish and didn’t give you much to work with. When you spoke to her, she would give grunts and one-word answers if you were lucky. Being a teenage girl means approaching with a topic of interest, and with VR growing up so much since you’ve seen her, it’s been hard to wiggle your way back in.

School was not a discussion topic; partying was also a sore subject because she was still grounded, so on your flight back to Indiana, you tried again. She gave you the cold shoulder, still not forgiving you. Not understanding at all why you had left. You were starting to question why you left things as you did. It didn’t make sense in retrospect. She was right, you could have snuck around, you could have “broken up” and gotten back together weeks later. But in the moment, everything was too much; you were overwhelmed by everything you weren’t thinking about. Now, as a thirty-year-old, you have learned so much. You were not ready for many things that came your way but you got through them; and on your own. Giving yourself room to grow and become your best was probably the best thing that came out of this situation.

“Hey, old man,” Eddie yelled into the empty foyer of Wayne’s quaint bungalow.

Violet Rose pushed past the both of you and walked into what you believed to be her bedroom just off the front door.

“Finally, I’ve been waitin’ round for ages! Can’t that dang plan of yours go any faster?” Wayne rounded the corner as he entered the long hallway. He embraced Eddie in a thigh hug, snaking his back a few times before letting go.

“Angel, this is Wayne” he smiled brightly

“Pops, this is my Angel.” You smile at Wayne before he opens his arms for a hug hello.

Wayne knew of you from the past. Mainly when he spoke with his granddaughter. She spoke so highly of you all those years ago.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you.” You squeezed your arms around the elderly man.

“Pleasure’s all my darlin'.” he pulled back to get a good look at you, then looked around. “Where’s my Grandbaby?”

Eddie chuckled and then pointed towards the door. “Don’t think she could get away that easy?” Wayne smirked.

Violet must have heard the conversation because she stepped out of the room and was changed into her sweats and an old Corroded Coffin shirt.

“Hey, Gramps.” She smiled slightly and leaned into him for a hug.

“Hey baby girl, you get taller? Damn, I haven’t seen you in so long” he brushed her curly locks down as he patted her head.

“Probably, but I think I��m done now,” she giggled. It was the first time you had seen her in a good mood.

“Well, let’s quit standing in the hallway; come in!” He waves the three of you into his home.

Wayne cooked a delicious dinner, and then Eddie showed you around the only trailer that sat in the backyard. He wasn’t kidding when he said Wayne wouldn’t move unless it went with him.

Eddie showed you around his old bedroom; he said it was like stepping into a time machine. Everything had been left as it was when he left at 21.

You teased him when you found an old Playboy that was very well-used. His cheeks flared up as you flipped through the dusty pages. He told you there used to be a display of mugs, the same one that was now inside the house, and a bunch of trucker hats that also used to be a staple, but now we’re probably in his bedroom collecting dust there.

When you went back inside, you saw Wayne and VR huddled around the pool playing a game of Snooker. It was nice to see Violet Rose enjoying her time around you rather than sulking like a moody teenager.

Eddie announced that both of you would join in the next round, and Violet rolled her eyes so much for progress.

The rest of the night was relatively peaceful. Only one more snarky remark from Violet Rose got a stern response from her Pops, telling her off for talking back to her elders.

“Don’t you teach this girl any manners? Did I not raise you to respect people?” Wayne grumbled.

“You try raising a teenage girl, then come back to me; maybe I’ll leave her here for the summer,” Eddie smirked, which got a rise out of Violet.

“I love you, Gramps, but I would rather die than live in Hawkins,” she winced.

“Don’t blame ya, Sweet-pea, but I think all that Hollywood California L. A bullshit, pardon my French, has gotten to that head of yours ” he shook his head.

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh; it was so infectious you tried to hold in your giggles.

“You guys are the worst! Just try and be a teenager now!” She dropped her pool cue and stormed off to her room.

You looked at Eddie and gave a sympathetic smile; if anyone knew what she was going through in this room, it would be you. You went after her to see if she would open up to you.

You tentatively knocked on the door three times before she told you to go away.

"Vi, can I please come in?" you speak through the door.

"No," you could hear her eyes roll.

"Come on, Vi, who do you want to talk to you? Me a girl who has been in your position or your Dad?" you wait silently while she contemplates her options.

"Fine." You hear her get up and walk to the door. She doesn't say anything when she opens the door. She turns and sulks back to her bed, curling her knees to her chest.

"So..." you start while thinking about what to say next. "Want to tell me what is going on?" you sit at the opposite end of her bed; you don't want to crowd her.

"Not particularly," She mumbled into her knees.

“Okay," you drew out with a huff. "How about I list off some things that I think are the issues, and you let me know if I'm close?"

Violet Rose stared at you blankly, but you took that as a yes.

"Okay... is it about school?"

"No"

"Friends?"

"No"

"A boy?"

"Not really"

Okay that's good you were getting somewhere.

"Not really? So, a boy problem with you? Or someone else?"

"It's about you and Dad."

"Of course," you sighed.

"It's not that... it's not that I don't want you together because that is all I ever wanted. But I'm scared you're going to leave again." She was so meek. You hadn't seen Violet Rose, so unsure of herself. You reached out your comforting hand, shocked when she let you leave it resting over hers.

"I am so sorry about how I left things with you. I will never forgive myself for not being there to say goodbye. But I promise I am not planning on leaving this time. Your father and I are nowhere near perfect, but we are working on things. And if we ever plan to not continue things between us, I promise you I will always be a part of your life as long as you want me to be. Okay?" you sighed.

You waited a few seconds in silence before she responded. "Okay.'' She whispered while giving a meek smile.

"Was that the only thing bothering you?" you chide.

Violet sat and wondered if she wanted to share her feelings about her crush on her friend, Charlotte. Violet knew she liked both girls and boys for a while now but wasn't ready to divulge. She would rather speak about that to her aunts, Robin and Nancy. She shook her head no and said she would have an early night.

You bid her a goodnight, and when you closed her door, a triumphant smile spread across your face. Progress has been made; that's all you wanted.

You rounded the corner and caught the end of Eddie and Wayne's conversation.

"Don't let this one go again, boy, or else I'll never forgive ya'."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to let him this time," You said with the same goofy smile.

"You're in a good mood. I'm assuming things went well?" Eddie pulled you in by the waist to sit beside him on the couch.

"Yeah, she will be okay. Just needed some reassurance, is all." You curled up next to him.

Eddie didn't say anything more when he gave a kiss to your temple.

"Told ya she would be good for you son." Wayne tipped the beer bottle to you.

"Yea, yea, yea, you are always right," Eddie laughed.

It seemed that you were fitting back into their family just perfectly.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

On your second day in Hawkins, Eddie wanted to take you around town and bring you to meet his old friends. He told you that his buddy Steve was hosting a BBQ and invited all of his old high school friends for the occasion. He said you were going to meet everyone. Steve and his wife and kids, Robin and Nancy, who were married; Nancy’s little brother Mike and his Wife El; Dustin and his wife Suzy and their kids; Lucas and his wife Max and their kids; and Luca’s little sister Erica and her partner. You told him you would try to remember everyone’s names, but you made no promises.

It was all a bit overwhelming to meet everyone all at once, but you felt like you were welcomed with open arms, regardless of what Eddie had told them about you.

You’d lost Eddie halfway through the evening. Naturally, the men and women separated into their separate groups.

“So tell me about Eddie when he was in high school.” You smirked into your iced tea glass. Everyone else had been drinking tonight, but your stomach was feeling off, probably due to the nerves of meeting everyone tonight.

“Oh, he was a TOTAL dork,” Robin giggled.

“Not much of a jock, I’m assuming?” you asked, giggling with her.

“No, no, but he was a charming guy,” Nancy spoke. “a bit eccentric.”

“No, very eccentric,” Robin corrected with a laugh.

“But he was always looking out for his friends, sucking up for others, like my brother Mike” Nancy nodded over to the guys who were surrounding the BBQ.

Robin was someone you gravitated toward the most; she was funny and spunky, and you totally understood why she fell for Nancy. Nancy was kind, warm and not to mention gorgeous.

This made you smile to know he always had a genuine heart.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” you sigh.

Eddie couldn’t break the smile that spread across his face the second you two walked in the door. He was so smitten and very excited to show you off. He finally found his person; all of his hometown friends had settled down for years, getting married in their 20s and having a normal life in the suburbs. He felt like he was finally able to settle down with you. He had already settled down while raising VR but always missed his partner.

“How did you manage to swing a girl like that, Eds? She has to be half your age,” Steve asks, nodding his head in your direction.

“She is thirty,” Eddie corrected him, but he knew Steve was only pulling his leg.

“He’s a famous rockstar now, remember! Not the same nerd from Hawkins High,” Dustin laughed.

Eddie gave him a stern look. Sure, they were all grown up, but Eddie still saw them as his little sheep.

“Com’on, dude! It’s been so long since we busted your balls,” Lucas said, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever y’all are just jealous.” Eddie rolled his eyes, smirking before taking a sip of beer.

“We are happy for you, dude,” Steve smiled. “You seem much better when she is around. You sound alive again.” He flipped a steak on the grill.

“Well, my fellow brethren, thank you for everything you’ve done for me; I appreciate it.” “You're getting way too sappy for me; I thought I was standing with the men.” Mike laughed.

The evening was ending; the lot of you were all snuggled up by the bonfire in the backyard of the Harrington residents.

“So… what do you prefer to be called? Your actual name or Angel?” Steve inquired.

“Whatever you prefer, to be honest, I like both.” You smiled.

“Well, I’m calling you Angel,” Robin piped up, “It's cute,” she smiled.

“It’s all Eddie ever refers to you as; I had no idea it was you he was speaking of when he told us he was bringing a lady friend,” Steve smirked.

“She’s not just a lady friend; she is his girlfriend,” Dustin chimed in with a grin.

“Well, whatever you are, we are happy you’re here; it’s about time someone tied this one down.” Steve tilted his beer bottle up to toast.

“Thank you for having me; I’m so happy to meet all of you. Eddie has told me wonderful things about all of you.” You smiled, reaching for Eddie’s hand.

“Awe shucks, bud. Are you getting all mushy on us?” Steve laughs.

“Zip it, Harrington,” Eddie said, teasingly pointing a finger.

“What? I’m just saying… The last time we saw you with anyone was Chrissy... and that was twenty years ago!” He clapped. Steve was drunk.

Your body tenses and tired to laugh, but up at the thought of Eddie with another girl made you feel icky.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t found anyone close to how Angel makes me feel, so I don’t care how long it took her to find me.” Eddie kissed your cheek with a wet smack.

Steve cringed at how gushy his friend was, but the ladies fawned over it. They were so happy Eddie finally found his person. They had multiple discussions about how they were worried for his well-being when he started partying again.

“You both are the cutest. How did you rekindle things? Eddie told us you dated in the past. Nancy spoke.

You told them about how you caught VR in the club and dragged her home, and the rest was history.

The evening wrapped up around midnight. The car ride home was quiet but not uncomfortable. Eddie held your hand the whole ride home with a slight smile. Your heart was warm; Eddie had really good people in his life.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

"When do yous two plan on hitting the road?" Wayne asked a few days after your arrival.

"Trying to kick us out, old man? We just got here," Eddie laughed.

"No, boy, I just gotta know how much food to buy at the store." He huffed.

"Well, we will stay for four more days and head out on the 7th.

Wait? Did Eddie just say the 7th was in four days? That can't be right. You open your phone to look at your calendar. Shit.

You excuse yourself calmly to go to the bathroom.

You lock the door behind you and open your period tracker app. You were six days late. Okay, no need to panic. The last time you had unprotected sex was... almost every night for the past two weeks... You tried to think back; he pulled out nearly every time. But there was the first night you rekindled the flame; he definitely didn't pull out then… okay. Focus. You’re 30 and not getting any younger, your career is at its peak, and you’re with the man you want to be with forever. Growing your and Eddie’s baby inside you made your heart flutter. Maybe a baby wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

You decided to wait a few more days for your period to come just in case it was a fluke. You also didn’t want to take a pregnancy test in Wayne’s house, so you waited until you returned to LA.

You went out of the bathroom and decided not to tell Eddie anything until you knew for sure. Your mind was racing with all the possibilities. You tried to reel it back in the best you could and engage with the rest of them, but the last few days of the trip have been full of fantasies of a mini-you running around.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

When you got home from Indiana, the first thing you did was have your assistant rush to the drugstore. The last thing you needed was to have you papped buying a pregnancy test before you told Eddie anything. It sat on your bathroom counter, taunting you. You were so scared, so nervous about what could be.

You waited a few days before building up the courage to face reality because your period still hadn’t made its appearance.

It was six o’clock in the evening, and you had just gotten home from the studio. You had a productive day; you got about 4 songs finished and recorded for the new album coming out in 3 months. You were feeling good about your progress in the studio, and something in you told you to take the test.

You tried your best to distract yourself in the fifteen minutes for the test to be complete. The longest fifteen minutes of your life were waiting for the results; the second your phone timer went off, you ran back to the bathroom to check the test that sat on the vanity.

With shaking hands, you lifted it up to your face to see the very prominent plus sign marking the test positive. With a gasp, you felt your stomach erupt in those oh-so-familiar butterflies. You were happy, so happy, you were having a baby! Tears of joy escaped from your tear ducts. You couldn’t believe the news. How are you going to tell Eddie? Would he want to keep it? Would he stay with you? It was so soon; less than two months passed since you had gotten back together. How was VR going to react?! Oh god, you were just getting back in her good graces, this could screw up everything.

The next day, you got an appointment with your doctor; thankfully, they had an opening. They did the blood test, and a day later, they called you to confirm the news that you had been about 3 weeks along.

You let out the breath you had been holding when you picked up the phone.

You thanked them and hung up with a shaky hand. The first thing you did was sit and think about your future. You wanted to keep this baby no matter what Eddie's decision will be. You hadn’t booked a tour for this album release yet. You had a meeting with your team next month about it, but would let them know that it would have to be put on hold for now. You hugged your stomach as you thought about how you had not only yourself to think about. You were excited yet terrified all at the same time.

You were off in your own little baby world the next few days. You had called your mom to tell her because you could no longer keep the secret to yourself. She was so ecstatic, she cried happy tears, and she called your dad on the phone. She soothed your worries about having to tell Eddie. She reassured you that even if he didn’t want to be a part of the baby's life, she would be there for you, but she also reminded you how he raised a baby all on his own because he could never give up a child. That settled your nerves a bit, but you were still scared out of your wits.

You spent the afternoon talking to her, brainstorming ways of how you would tell Eddie. Your mom and you thought it would be cute to give him a custom onesie that said “Corroded Coffins smallest fan.” You go on ordering that immediately; you don’t want to keep the secret any longer.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You were in Eddie’s bedroom getting unready after your dinner date; you hadn’t been feeling the best because of the baby. The nausea had been coming in waves, and Eddie knew you were not feeling the best. Oblivious to what was happening, you told him it was the stress of getting the album done.

Eddie told you he picked up some ginger tablets because he knew Gravol made you too sleepy.

“Baby, where are the tablets you bought? My stomach needs to settle,” you asked as you removed your earrings.

“Uh, check the night stand,” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the walk-in closet.

You made your way over to his side of the bed and found nothing but an old copy of Lord of the Rings, a vibrator, and the box of condoms you were supposed to be using; bit too late for that now…

You then walked to the bedside table on your side of the bed. That made more sense; he would put it on your side for you.

You opened the drawer, and your heart felt like it stopped.

“What is this?” Your voice cracked.

“What’s what, Sugar?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

Your hands trembled as you picked up the small velvet box sitting there wide open for you to see. A diamond ring. It was not just any diamond ring but a pink 4-karat cushion cut with white diamond clusters on the side, staring you in the face. It was beautiful.

This man could not be serious? This is not how he was proposing to you?

You felt like you were moving in slow motion as you turned toward Eddie. Tears were threatening to rim your eyes; man, being pregnant really does heighten your hormones.

Eddie was in the walk-in closet undressing for the evening, and when you didn’t respond to his question, he was confused, so he poked his head out while pulling on his black sweatpants.

To Eddie’s surprise, you held the one thing that had taunted him over the past four years. He had forgotten about it since you came back into his life. How could he be so stupid? Of course, you found it!

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Eddie ran over to you in a panic. He tried to swipe it from you, but you pulled your hand away.

“Answer me, Eddie, what is this?”

“A ring,” Eddie answered matter of factly.

“I know it's a ring, Eddie, don’t play with me right now. What is this?” You tried to keep your voice from cracking again.

With a deep sigh, Eddie folded an arm over his chest and pinched his brow before letting his head fall back, trying to think of a way to explain.

“It’s an engagement ring, Princess.” He reached out to your free hand. You let him. “You weren’t supposed to find it.” He sighed.

“I wasn’t supposed to find the engagement ring left wide open on my side of the bed?” You cocked your head. He had to be joking? So this isn’t how he was proposing?

“God no, Angel! You think this is how I wanted to propose to you?” He shook his head with disbelief.

“Then why is it sitting in there out in the open for me to find!” You didn’t know what to think; was this even meant for you? Are you jumping to conclusions? “Oh my god, it’s not for me, is it? Fuck I’m so stupid” You shoved the box into Eddie’s hands and ran into the ensuite bathroom.

“Angel, wait!” Eddie called out to you but your emotions were sighted by one thousand, and you shut the door in his face before he could follow you.

“Baby, please let me in; I’ll explain everything. Just let me see my pretty girl.” Eddie cooed through the black wooden door.

You stood there for a moment, unsuccessfully holding back your tears. You didn’t feel pretty, your mascara was running, your stomach was still doing flip-flops, and you looked boated.

“No,” you refused.

“Come on now, sweetheart, don’t be like this. I’ll tell you everything.” Eddie watched the doorknob like he was trying to unlock it with his mind. To his surprise, it twisted. You stepped out, walking right past him no less, as you crawled into bed and pulled the duvet over your head.

Eddie rolled his eyes at your dramatics. You really could be such a brat, but he knew better than to poke the bear right now.

“Come out from under there, please, so I can talk to you?” Eddie stroked your arm from above the blanket. He didn’t get a worded response, just a muffled grumble.

“Let me talk to you, pretty girl, don’t act like a child. Another muffled, grumbled response was made, and he could have sworn you said something about acting however you want because you’re having his child, but it was so muffled he swore that he was just hearing things.

Eddie tried again, then realized you were not coming up, so he would have to go in. You tried pulling the covers closer to you, but his grip was much stronger than yours. He snuggled in the bed, but you turned to face the other way.

Eddie could not believe your behaviour right now.

“Don’t make me take you over my knee, little one,” he seductively whispered in your ear.

He could not be serious right now?

“Eddie, don’t,” you huffed.

“Then quit being a brat and let me talk to you.” he pulled you into him so he was spooning you.

“You tried to wiggle away, but his strong arm held you in place. You decided to give up and let him talk. The sooner he spoke, the sooner you could escape this stifling heat trap you had created for yourself.

“What do you want to know?” He kissed your shoulder as one hand trailed lightly up and down the side of your thigh.

“Everything.” You whispered with a light sniffle.

“Yes, the ring was for you, and no, you were not supposed to find it like that... It's been sitting on that side of the bed for years, taunting me, and I never had the heart to throw it away.” Years? You wanted to cut him off and ask, but you let him continue. “ I had this whole thing planned to put in Italy. You remember?” he cleared his throat. Fuck “Obviously, that didn’t work out like I had hoped. I had forgotten it was there over these past few months because it was no longer a reminder of sad memories. I don’t know why I didn’t move it when we got back together; honestly, I just didn’t think about it. You were never supposed to see it… well, not never…”

You took a moment to process, then slowly turned around to face Eddie. You placed a hand on his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. You didn’t know what this meant for the both of you now, but the idea of being engaged made you extremely happy.

“I love you, Eddie.” You whispered as you pulled back.

“So we are okay?” He nuzzled his nose against yours.

“Yeah, I think so,” you nod.

“Good, because I must punish you for being such a brat now.” Eddie threw up the blankets and pulled you over his lap before you knew what was happening.

“NO, we can’t hut the baby!” you shouted, not thinking.

Eddie’s hand froze mid-air before it could come down on your bottom.

You covered your mouth, realizing what you had just said as Eddie pulled you back up from his lap.

“What did you just say?” Eddie's eyes were wild while scanning your tummy back up to your face.

“I’m pregnant,” you spilled softly.

“You’re- you- you’re? A baby?” Eddie pointed to your tummy.

“This is not how I planned on telling you,” you groaned into your hands before looking up at Eddie, who had the brightest smile on his face.

“You’re having a baby?” His large hand spread across your lower stomach. You place your hand over his and nod yes.

“We are having a baby!!” Eddie shot up out of bed and pumped his fists as he ran around the room in excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh; this was the best reaction you could have hoped for.

“When did you find out?” He ran back over to your side of the bed.

“Um, not long, about two weeks ago…”

“Two weeks?! Why didn’t you tell me?” He places a gentle hand over your tummy.

“I was scared… and I was waiting for the gift to come in the mail to help tell you.” You looked down as you started picking at your nails.

“Scared?” Eddie cupped the side of your face.

“We are so new, and I didn't know if you wanted to be committed to me like that after everything from our past and-”

“No.” Eddie shook his head, cutting you off. “We aren’t doing that; this is the best news I could have ever asked for.” He leaned in to kiss you. “I love you,” another kiss. “I love you,” he moved down to your neck. Kissing you between each sentence. “You’re going to be the best momma… and now I’m going to have to take extra good care of my girl and baby.” Eddie couldn’t hold back his smile.

Your skin tingled as Eddie made his way down your body with more kisses. You moaned from how his lips brushed so lightly against your skin. Everything had been heightened now that you were pregnant. Every touch, every kiss, every graze was like a bolt of lightning shooting down your body and straight to your clit.

You moaned his name as he sucked on your neck. His hands gently pushed you up on the pillows resting on the headboard.

“Have to treat my girl extra special now.” He whispered as he travelled down your body. His strong hands travelled down to the hem of your dress and wasted no time getting you naked.

“Have to treat this pussy right; it’s going to be giving me the best gift in the world.” He kissed your clit over your panties, and your body jerked. This was the first time you’ve had sex since finding out the news. Your morning sickness had been taking over any time you were with Eddie. You won’t be up for it.

Your body was so much more reactive, and Eddie noticed. Oh, he was going to have so much fun.

“You like that, Princess?” He stroked his index finger down your clothed slit before hooking a finger under the gusset and pulling them down in one swift motion.

“Yes,” you panted.

“Look at that,” Eddie said as he parted your legs. He ran a calloused fingertip through your slick. You grabbed his wrist when he got to your clit.

“Too much,” you whimpered. It felt like your body was on fire.

Eddie crawled back up to kiss you; it was soft and tender. His hand trailed up from your centre to your breasts. He cupped one over your bra and massaged gently as you ground your core into his thigh.

“I can’t wait to worship this body,” Eddie spoke into your mouth.

You let out a soft moan when Eddie pulled down the cups of your bra and latched his mouth onto your extra-sensitive nipple. Your hips hadn’t stopped moving. Your clit was throbbing as you ground your hips up and down his clothed thigh. Eddie let you use his leg to release the pressure that kept building and building in your lower stomach. The added pleasure of Eddie’s mouth on your peaked bud made your orgasm come faster than ever before. It didn’t take much before you were letting out silent screams.

“Poor little thing, coming already? Eddie loved this. He was eating it up.

“Please, please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for? You were so sensitive, but you needed to feel Eddie or else you would explode.

“There there little one, Daddy’s got you,” he cooed.

“Daddy?” You questioned still in your fucked out haze.

Eddie never referred himself to Daddy in bed, only Sir.

“Yes. Daddy. ‘Nd you’re Mommy.”

Was it weird? Yes. Were you arguing? No. It only turned you on even more.

“Now stop thinking and let Daddy take care of you.”

He aligned his hardened shaft with your dripping hole.

It slipped in without any resistance; you felt every inch, every vein, and especially those glorious silver balls perched at the end of his shaft graze your g spot.

“Oh my,” you whispered.

“Aww, look at that little pussy clenching,” he pulled out before spreading you open again and again.

Eddie wasn’t going at his usual pace; he knew it was silly, but he didn’t want to hurt the baby. He saw that you were so sensitive enough that he didn’t need to.

He rocked his hips to push in and out of you slowly and methodically.

“More,” you whimpered, trying to gyrate your hips against his to create more friction! Eddie pinned your hips down.

“Nuh'uh, don’t fight it.” He threw your legs over his shoulders and leaned in so you folded in half.

“Please,” you begged. You were so fucked out you just needed to feel every bit of him.

“My poor little one.” he mocked before reaching his hand down to massage your swollen bud. “Can’t do anything about it, can you?” He was such an ass.

“Please Eddie, I-I-”

“Oh, I think my cock got you so stupid. It’s not Eddie, baby girl.” He stopped all movement.

“Daddy, please!” You were on the verge of tears at this point. You were so overstimulated. Every stroke, every brush, every breath was overwhelming you.

“There’s my smart girl.” Eddie bent down to kiss you as his hips thrust into you so deeply that you saw stars. Your body felt like it left and went to another dimension.

“Keep coming, baby, that’s it.” Eddie didn’t let up. He continued to pound into your cunt until he was spilling himself inside of you. For the first time, Eddie wasn’t worried about him cum filling you up.

“That’s it. Take it all. You’re my little cum dumpster. Going to fill you get you pregnant all over again.”

You were too fucked out to realize what he was saying didn’t make any sense.

You came back down to reality a few minutes later. You were curled up on Eddie’s chest. You could feel the rise and fall of his lungs as the room was filled with heavy pants until Eddie spoke up.

“I wasn’t too much, was I?” Eddie was worried, worried about hurting you or the baby. You shook your head no in response.

“How did this happen?” Eddie questioned.

“What? The baby?” You quipped.

“Yeah, I thought it was like impossible to get pregnant with an IUD?” He crunched his face, trying to think.

Shit.

“I took it out…” you admit. No use lying to him.

“You- you took it out? What? When?” Eddie was shocked.

“I had it taken out over a year ago because I thought it was aiding my depression, you know… hormones and all that.” You bite your lip with anticipation.

“Baby…” he trailed off.

“I’m okay now, I swear. I’m doing a lot better,” you promised.

“You promise to tell me if you ever feel like that again, OK?”

“Yes, Sir.” You playfully reply. “Oh, that’s how it's going to be?” He raises a brow at you. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with the mother of my child, and you wanna be a brat?” His fingers started trailing up your sides, tickling your middle.

“Eddie, stop!” You laugh, but he doesn’t let up. He continues until you’re almost in tears. When he finally gives in, it hits you what he said minutes earlier. You’re the mother of his child. Unborn but still yours nonetheless.

“I’m going to be a mommy.” You whisper more to yourself than anyone.

“Yeah, you are.” Eddie’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

“You two are so gross,” Violet Rose said as she entered the kitchen the next morning.

“Huh?” You questioned before taking a bite of the scrambled egg Eddie had made for you

“I don’t ever want to hear your nightly activities ever again." she shuttered.

You felt all the blood drain from your face as you froze from the words she spoke.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you mumbled under your breath, trying to hide your face in your hands. How mortifying!

“Mornin’ Cupcake,” Eddie walked back into the kitchen as Violet grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“So gross,” VR cringed and walked away without another word.

“Hey! You’re still grounded, don’t forget. I don’t need the snarky comments,” he called after her, clueless about what she might have heard the night prior.

“Baby, you might have to end her punishment early… she has suffered enough.” You try not to laugh, but it was so uncomfortable you don’t know how to react.

“What?” Eddie looked back at you.

“She heard us…last night.” you cringe.

“She knows about the baby?” He tilted his head.

“No, not the baby,” you chuckle.

“You mean?” Eddie’s eyes went wide at the realization. No wonder she called him gross.

“Oh god! No, no, no, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“Baby, it will be okay.” You tried to console him.

“Okay? It’s not okay! Probably scarred her for the rest of her life!” He brushed his hands down his face. “She shouldn’t even know what sex is! She’s a baby, my baby!” Eddie was spiralling.

“She snuck into a club with a fake ID and was with a man twice her age when I found her... hate to break it to you, but she knows what sex is, babe.” You stroke his back, trying to calm him down.

“She was with who now?” Eddie's face went beat red. Shit. You’d forgotten you hadn’t disclosed that part of the night you found VR at The Red Bottom's.

“Shhhh shhhhh, it's okay. She got her punishment; she knows what she did was wrong. We are finally getting somewhere with her; let's not ruin it by reminding her of her mistakes.” You cooed.

“Yea, yea, you’re right,” He sighed.

“Poor kid,” you shake your head.

“When do you want to tell her?” Eddie pulled you in by your oversized t-shirt.

“You think we should tell her now? She is old enough. I don’t wanna keep any more secrets from her.” You wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck.

“Yeah, I think so too.” Eddie landed his forehead on yours. You were about to kiss when Violet Walked back into the room.

“Oh god! Get a room!” She covered her eyes like she was in physical pain.

“Sweetheart, come here. We have to share something important.” Eddie patted the bar stool that was beside him.

“Do I have to? I could be doing, I don’t know, algebra homework or something.” She rolled her eyes.

“Come, sit” Eddie used that commanding voice that made your pussy tingle.

“We have some news. Exciting news.” Eddie emphasized when he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“You want to tell her, or should I?” Eddie asked as he looked at you.

“Um, you can tell her, baby” You smiled. You were very nervous about what her reaction would be. You had just broken the surface of making up with her.

“You are going to be a big sister.” Eddie smiled brightly.

A few seconds of silence pass before what Eddie said hits Violet Rose. “Shut up!” Violet’s face emulated her father’s as his mouth parted into a toothy smile.

Well, that was better than expected…

“You’re having a baby!” She jumped up and embraced you in a hug. Tears of joy rose in your eyes, and you nodded.

“Yeah,” You whispered.

“Holy shit!” Violet was ecstatic. Now, this really meant you were here for good! You wouldn’t leave her and her father. She finally felt like things would be okay.

“So you’re okay with this?” You ask with a quivering lip. God, pregnancy really made you a crybaby.

“Yes! Omg we have to go shopping! We can get all the baby clothes and, oh, the nursery! We can decorate it; I have so many ideas! I saw one Pinterest the other day that was just the cutest! Oh, and we can do a baby shower! And a gender reveal party! But not those lame ones with the smoke or balloon ones that are horrible for the environment- ” She rambled on.

“Whoah, slow down Cupcake” Eddie cut her off. “We just found out, so you can’t tell anyone yet; it’s too early.”

“How far along are you?” She bounced up and down on her toes.

“Five weeks.” You smile.

“Oh, I'm so excited. I love you guys.” She hooked her arms around your and Eddie’s necks.

That was the first time you heard her tell you that since she was eleven. The waterworks were starting up again. You’d finally felt like a family again.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Eddie, Violet Rose and you had lived in your little bubble for the past two months. Things with VR were so much better; she was opening up to you like she used to and trusting you more than ever. Eddie had also asked you to move in with him.

Even though you loved your little bungalow, having the four of you living there wasn't practical. Eddie’s had so much more space and was always a home to you in the time you’ve known him. You’d convinced Eddie to start redecorating just a little bit. However, you told him the house needed to be brighter. So after some negotiations (letting Eddie do filthy things to you), you got your way and painted the walls lighter. It made the house look so much more significant. Violet cheered when you told her the dungeon she lived in would be given a facelift.

Today, Eddie and Violet Rose and you were out furniture shopping. You’d wanted to fix the bedroom to make it yours and Eddie’s rather than just Eddie’s. Eddie was fine with anything as long as you were happy. You’d also come across some cribs and changing tables in the store that you loved and marked down to save for the future.

After hours of looking, you were starving, so you went to lunch at your favourite spot.

Word was starting to spread that you and Eddie had gotten back together. You both hadn’t officially announced anything, but you had been spotted out in public a few times, and the wind was picking up in the tabloids about the both of you, so you were grateful when the restaurant wasn’t bustling.

“The baby is still hungry,” You wined as the waiter walked away with empty plates.

“Holy shit!” Violet Rose squealed out of nowhere.

“What?!” You ask.

“Oh my god, I can't believe that's her!” Violet half whispered. She didn’t get excited about celebrities; she grew up with them, so why was she freaking out about this one?

You look at Eddie and see all the blood drain from his face.

“What is it?” You grab his hand.

“Eddie, is that you?” You heard a sickly, sweet voice approach the table.

You cannot believe who is standing before you as you look to your right.

“Sarafina, uh, hi- it’s been a while.” He stuttered as she wrapped herself around your boyfriend.

“Wait, you two know one another? Dad! why didn’t you tell me?” Violet chastised.

You watched as Sarafina’s face shot towards her daughters.

“This must be Violet Rose.” She smiled. God, she was beautiful.

“You know my name?” Violet’s eyebrows shot up.

“Well yeah, I-” she looked to Eddie, and he subtly shook his head no. “I, uh, know your Dad; we go way back. About sixteen years, if I’m not mistaken.” She clearly was hurt by the fact Violet Rose didn’t know she was her mother.

You’d cleared your throat to take the attention off Sarafina.

“Oh, I’m being so rude. Where are my manners?” She spoke. “I’m Sarafina, and you are?”

“This is my Mom. You can call her Poppy or Angel, whatever works,” Violet Rose spoke up, and you and Eddie both wiped your heads toward her. She hadn’t ever called you her Mom before? “Uh yea, whatever works? It’s very nice to meet you.” You stuck out your hand as a gesture. She didn’t take it.

“Mom? You’re young enough to be her sister.” You knew it was a jab but weren’t sinking to that level.

“Yeah, well, she’s a great one.” Eddie grabbed your hand.

“Well, I uh- don’t want to bother you any longer on your little family day.” She cleared her throat. “It was nice seeing you, Eddie,” She nodded and then lingered on Violet Rose before she walked out of the restaurant.

“What the hell, dad!” Violet spoke as soon as she saw Sarafina exit the building.

“Violet Rose Winnifred Munson. Don’t.” Eddie never used her full name unless he meant it. So she dropped it… for now. She thought about asking you later when her dad wasn’t around.

The car ride home was quiet until Violet spoke up.

“So uh, about lunch… I think Sarafina likes you, Dad.”

“What?” He jerked the wheel a bit, making you squeak. “Sorry baby, but what are you talking about Cupcake?” He looked at her through the rearview mirror.

“She was totally all over you!”

“Is that why you called Angel your mom?” Your eyes went wide with curiosity.

“Well, yeah, partly.” She shrugged.

“Partly?” You ask, looking back at her.

“You’re more of a mom than she ever was to me.” Violet had dug into who his dad had been with around the time she was conceived. She got final confirmation when Sarafina said they’d known each other for sixteen years. It wasn’t rocket science to see the similarities in her face and her birth mother's.

Somehow Eddie managed to keep his cool while driving you safely back home before freaking out. The three of you exited the car, and Eddie walked over to Violet Rose. As you watched him engulf his daughter in a suffocating hug, you couldn’t help but sniffle. Damn you, baby hormones.

“I want you to know how special you are. You are so brave, smart, loving, and funny, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your Dad, okay?” He kissed the side of her head and pulled away.

“Thanks, Dad. But can I ask…. Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked as you all walked back into the house.

“Because Cupcake, I know what it’s like to not be wanted by the people who are supposed to love you the most. And I did not want that for you, ever. Growing up, I couldn’t have you seeing that woman everywhere, knowing she asked not to be a part of your life.” Eddie sighed.

“I love you, Dad, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole thing. I kinda just wanna call Charlotte and tell her what’s happening.” She made her way to the staircase.

“I’m just going to ask that you ask her not to say anything. I know she won’t, but Sarafina asked that no one knew… that’s part of why I didn’t tell you, kiddo. But you have every right to talk about it… it’s your life, too.” Eddie sighed.

“Thanks, Dad.” Violet turned and walked up the stairs.

“You’re a good Dad.” You turned to hug Eddie once VR was out of sight.

“It’s so hard sometimes.” He nuzzled his head into your neck.

“But you have me now; you don’t have to do this alone anymore.” You stroked his head.

“God, I love you.” He leaned in for a deep kiss.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You told Roger and your team you were pregnant a week ago. You were starting to show and couldn't really hide the bump anymore. It's been over three months, and your doctor said the baby was healthy, so it was okay to start telling people.

Roger was excited, more than enthusiastic; he had ideas on pregnancy announcements. He insisted on a People Magazine cover to announce your and Eddie’s relationship plus the Baby. You’d let him know you would run it by Eddie, but it seemed like he didn’t have a choice.

“I don’t know about this Princess,” Eddie snuggled you while laying in bed, getting ready to sleep.

“Come on baby, it could be good for us, like really good! No more sneaking around. I can finally stop worrying about people finding out, and it will probably up record sales.” You stroked his tattooed-clad chest.

“I hate photoshoots; they’re so long, and I always get so cranky and hungry-”

“Hangry.”

“Yea, that… and what about you? I don’t want you on your feet that long.”

“Who says I’ll be on my feet?” you tease. “I’ll probably be in nothing but a sheet, baby. I’ll have to show my little bump, and you can be there with me while I’m practically naked…. Or I can do the same without you and just make it all about me.” you shrug, knowing that won’t fly.

“No way in hell I’m letting you be naked in a room with a bunch of men without me.” Eddie huffed.

“Okay, then it’s settled. You’re doing it.” you kiss his cheek and roll over to turn out the light. You could feel Eddie roll his eyes, and you snuggled back into his chest.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The magazine cover came out when you were five months along. Your baby bump was more prominent now than on the shoot day. You could finally show it off without worrying about hiding your tummy anymore. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

“Can’t believe it's finally public,” you sighed. You were in the living room hanging out with Violet Rose.

“Me too! Now I can finally tell people I will be a big sister!” She applauded. “You think it will be a boy or girl?” She asked.

“I don’t know yet. I thought I would have a feeling by now, but honestly, I’m unsure.” You rubbed your tummy.

“Too bad you guys are waiting; I would have planned the best gender reveal party…” she sighed. “Speaking of parties.” Violet Rose hesitated, knowing she couldn’t be trusted with going out after being busted. “Charlotte is having a birthday party tonight, and I was hoping you could help me get ready?”

“And where is this party being held?” You question.

“At her house, her parents will be there; it is totally supervised, I swear.” She crossed her heart.

“And your Dad knows you’re going?” You question.

“Yes, I already spoke to him. I’m sleeping there, so you don’t have to pick me up either.

“Of course, I’ll help you get ready,” you smile.

You were sat in Violet’s room in a pile of clothing. She was freaking out about what she should wear. Then, after you figured out her outfit, you would help her with her hair and makeup.

“Ugh! I'm never going to find anything cute enough!” She cried.

“This is so cute. Wear this!” You pull a black minidress out of the pile she had thrown at you.

“I wore that last time!” She wined.

You looked at the clock; it was only 5:00 pm; thank god you had three hours to help her get ready.

“Come, let’s look in my closet…” you waved her over to follow you to your room.

After settling on one of your outfits, you returned to her room to do her hair and makeup.

“So any particular reason you are freaking out?” You laugh while blending her bronzer.

“I’m not freaking out,” She huffed.

You give her a knowing look.

“Okay, fine. My crush will be there, and I wanted to look nice for them…” She sighed.

“Oh, a crush! Do tell.” You wiggled your brows at her. You were so excited she was finally opening up to you again.

“uh… well.” Violet hesitated.

“It’s okay, baby, you can tell me,” you reassured her.

“It’s Char.” She looked down, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh?” You were taken aback a little; you didn’t think she would be crushing on her new best friend.

“I, uh. I like both boys and girls.” She twiddled with her thumb. You could tell hoe nervous she was, but you were so happy she opened up.

“Can I tell you a secret? You lifted her chin so you could continue doing her face. “I like boys and girls too.” You smiled. Not many people knew about your preferences. However, it felt right to let her know she wouldn’t be judged by you.

“What?” Violet Rose’s eyes brightened.

You nod your head to confirm.

“Does Dad know?” She asked.

“Yeah, I told him when we first started the whole fake dating thing.” You shrugged.

“Cool,” she half whispered.

“So tell me more.” You smile, reaching for the eyeshadow brush.

“Well she is really pretty, and smart, and funny, and we get along so well. I feel like she’s my other half.” She sighed.

“Do you know if she likes girls too?”

“No” her shoulders sunk.

“Well, she would be crazy not to like you back if she does.”

“You think so?” She looked up at you with those chocolate eyes.

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way because I do not condone what you did at the club, but you pulled that guy, didn’t you? You’re beautiful. Your mom’s a supermodel, and you’re funny, charismatic, and kind.” You tell her.

“She’s not my mom…” She shook her head.

“You know what I mean-”

“You are,” she cut you off.

“Ohhhh, don’t you do this to me now!” You jokingly threaten as you try to hold back the waterworks.

“Pop, I'm sorry I keep forgetting how the baby makes you emotional.” She giggled.

You sniffle a bit and pull it together to continue her eye makeup.

“Anyway… I hope I figure out what to do.” She sighs.

“Have you told your dad?” You ask, moving on to her hair.

“No,” she shakes her head.

“Okay, I won’t say anything until you're ready to tell him yourself.” You smile at her from your reflection in the mirror.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said with a slight grin.

“Okay, you’ll have to give me a minute.” You walked to her night side table to get a tissue while she laughed in her vanity chair.

*knock knock knock*

“What’s going on in here?” Eddie walked in to see you crying and Violet Rose laughing.

“She *sniffle* called *sniffle* me *sniffle* Mom.” The dam broke; you couldn’t help it. You had been overcome with so much love.

“Oh, Angel, come here.” Eddie wrapped his arms around you. He smiled over your shoulder to VR and waved her over. You felt another pair of arms wrap around your shoulder from behind.

“God, you Munsons are so mushy,” You spoke into Eddie's chest. Your body shook as the both of them giggled around you.

“Don’t tell anyone we have an image to uphold.” Eddie smiled.

“I don’t think anyone is going to be calling you a bad boy after that magazine cover” VR cackled.

“You’re on thin ice missy, I can make you stay home.” Eddie threatened.

“Oh baby you can’t do that! We put in hours of work!” You patted your tear-stained cheeks.

“Fine, I can’t say no to you.” he kissed the tip of your nose.

“OK, people, I have one hour left. I need my hair finished!” She rushed back to the straightening iron.

“Okay okay” You laughed. “Let’s get you picture perfect.”

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Eddie had it all planned out for months. He had consulted Violet Rose on proposal ideas. She suggested a pamper day. He was taking you on a lovely day out, and you were getting a maternity massage, then getting your nails and hair done. Then he would take you shopping if you weren’t too tired before he took you home to cook a nice dinner. After dinner, he would pop the question.

Violet Rose planned a sleepover so you could have the house to yourself. She didn’t want a repeat of the last time she heard about your extracurricular activities.

When Eddie told you of your plans today, he wasn’t surprised at your shocked reaction. You were seven months pregnant, and he told you it was because you’d been working so hard to finish your album. The release date was pushed back because you felt the songs weren’t working. Eddie told you that the stress wasn’t good for the baby and you needed a day for yourself.

Eddie went with you to every appointment. He also got himself a massage while you had yours. He sat and waited for you while your nails and hair were done without a peep.

You told him you would go shopping another day; your feet were swollen and still bothering you. You went home and took a nap, and when you woke up, Eddie had placed your favourite slippers by the bed so you didn’t have to step on the cold floor. He also placed your favourite maternity dress out for you next to a note that said to get ready for your date.

You could smell something delicious from the kitchen when you stepped out of the bedroom. As you rounded the corner, you saw a candle-lit dinner ready and plated waiting for you.

“Baby, what’s this?” You ask, seeing Edie put the final touches on the table. Eddie turned and smiled. Fuck he looked so good tonight. Eddie was also dressed up. He wore the same black silk shit he wore the first time the two of you met, paired with a nice pair of black dress pants and a classic understated black belt.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Eddie greeted you with a kiss.

“You try growing a person and see how tired you get,” You giggle, walking towards your chair.

Eddie steps over to pull it out for you. Forever your gentleman.

“Thank you, baby. What's all this?” You asked as he scooted you in.

“Can’t a man take care of his perfect, beautiful woman?” He smirks.

“What did you do?” You ask. He is being suspicious.

“Now, why would I have had to do something to treat the woman I love?” He raises his brow to you.

“Don’t know? I feel like you’re doing so much for me today; I’m surprised.” You take a sip of the water he poured you.

“Well, the night is still young, cheers.” Eddie held up his glass.

Eddie pulled you out to the yard for fresh air after your meal. The backyard was decked out in what seemed to be hundreds of twinkle lights. There was a gazebo in the back by the pond that you liked to read in. He led you towards it and saw it covered in plush blankets and pillows.

“Eddie, what’s all this?” You whispered in amazement. Eddie had a team come in and set everything up while the two of you were running your errands.

“Come,” he held your hand as he helped you up the steps.

“Angel…” Eddie took a deep breath.

“Yes?” You looked up at him, and he swore your eyes twinkled.

“I have loved you from the moment you flirted with me at your show. I never knew someone could make me feel this way, and honestly, I didn’t believe in love because I had never found it until I met you. I never want to lose you again. You are the light of my life, my everything. You own my soul. I never have and never will stop loving you.” He knelt down on one knee.

Your hand flew up to your mouth when he pulled out the ring you found a few months ago.

“Will you spend the rest of forever with me?”

Your hands shook as he pulled the ring out of the box and slid it up your finger.

“See, it was always meant for you. I just got it a little too early,” he smirked.

You crouch over as much as you can with your belly and pull him in for a deep kiss.

“So, is that a yes?” Eddie pulled away.

“You’re sure you want this baby? You want me forever? Us forever?” You cupped your lower stomach.

“Of course, baby, I’ve wanted you forever.” he cupped your face with both hands.

“So?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’ll marry you,” you smile.

Eddie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“You sure you wanna be stuck with me forever?” Eddie chuckled.

“Yes” you cupped your hands over his.

“Good, because I’m never letting you go ever again.”

~end~

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