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secretswiftymarvelfan · 6 months

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Boston Bears: Off-Limits - Rugby Player!Chris x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: After an unforgettable night, Chris finds out more about you

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: Angst! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Male Masturbation! MINORS DNI!

Rugby Explained

Dividers by Me!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 2

You heaved out a long sigh as you put the last of your clothes away, walking out of the closet towards your bed only to completely collapse on your bed in exhaustion. The bed springs creaked as you bounced slightly, the noise bringing you straight back to last night when they were creaking for a completely different reason.

You nibbled at your lower lip as the memory of last night replayed in your mind, the way Chris took you to heaven multiple times. The thought of it alone had you crossing one leg over the other as pressure built between your legs. When your phone vibrated in your jeans pocket a small involuntary gasp escaped your lips.

A smile then grew on your face when you saw it was Chris replying to your text asking how his post-match recovery was going. Like promised Chris had texted you this morning and you two had been texting ever since.

Chris: good, just warming back up after an icebath before watching the Chicago Knights game later, playing them next weekend and wanna know where they’re at

Y/N: oh very good, getting yourself in the coach’s good books?

Chris: just trying to be a good captain, although it never hurts to stay in his good books

You let out a snort since you knew that was definitely the case, you’re dad was pretty chill in most aspects but when it came to Rugby he was pretty strict. Speaking of the devil, you put your phone away when he knocks on your bedroom door with an open bottle of beer.

“All done in here?” he asks walking over and passing you the beer.

You accept it, sitting up to take a long sip “Yup, don’t ever let me say I don’t have enough clothes” you tell him.

Your father snorts “If only your teenage self could see you now” he says with a shake of his head “kitchen is all unpacked, but feel free to reorganise everything because I did it wrong” he offers.

“Thanks Dad, you didn’t grab yourself a beer?” you ask nodding down to the beer bottle in your hands.

“No need to keep my mind clear got games to study when I get home,” your dad says with a shake of his head.

“Well take one for later once you’re done studying, did you even celebrate the win yesterday?” you say with a knowing look.

Your dad sighs and rolls his eyes “The team all went out to celebrate”

“I didn’t ask about the team I asked about you” you point out standing up from your bed and walking out towards your kitchen.

“Fine, I got takeout while watching the game back” your dad relents with a long sigh.

“See, today is supposed to be your day off so just take a beer and go relax for a bit, you deserve it considering you helped me unpack,” you say opening up your fridge and grabbing him a beer.

“Fine but I’m still watching the Knights match tonight and that counts because I enjoy watching rugby” your dad argues as he accepts the bottle of beer.

You chuckle shaking your head at him “I wouldn't expect anything else, thanks for today Dad”

Your dad smiles warmly over at you, walking over to sling his arm around your shoulders “It’s nothing, I’m just happy to have my little girl back on the east coast”

“Me too Dad” you smile.

You had enjoyed your time in LA, you had met some friends for life there. But you missed New England so much, especially the sweater weather. When you walked off the plane it was like a breath of fresh air, you felt good about returning home and getting your fresh start after everything with Bryce.

“I better get going and let you settle and reorganise,” your dad says grabbing his jacket.

“Thanks Dad, don’t forget to relax,” you say pointing over to him.

“I won’t see you tomorrow for your first day, don’t be late” your dad smiles pointing a finger right back at you.

“Don’t worry I know how to make a good impression” you wink as you close the door.

Once he was gone you made your way into the kitchen, sipping your beer as you went. You inspected the unpacking your dad had done and where he had put everything. Like he suspected you would have to move things around and re-organise because where he put a few things just didn’t make sense to you.

But that would be a job for another day. You were far too tired from unpacking to even think about re-organising the kitchen, if you attempted it now you would probably only make it worse.

So instead you made your way back to your living room and collapsed on the couch. Looking at the time you had a lot of time left in the day, for a second you considered texting Chris and inviting him over to fulfil that reward he teased but you stopped yourself. Doing that would just open yourself up to getting attached, you couldn’t make the same mistake again. But Chris was so different to Bryce already, it was what made you comfortable to give him your number.

Letting out a long sigh you shook your head trying to get Chris out of your head. It was a one-night stand, nothing more. To carry it on would only make things complicated, even if it was the best sex of your life. Sex that every time you thought about it made your core ache and wish to seek out the toy he used last night.

To distract yourself you grabbed your laptop and decided to do some work. Your dad had already given you the lowdown on the team’s list of injuries so you wouldn’t go into it blind. But you also knew players tried to hide any injuries and niggles they had so you wanted to rewatch yesterday's match to see if you could spot any. You had already noticed a couple but you suspected there was more.

You also planned to watch the Knights game too to do the same thing, knowing what your opposition's injuries are can be a great help. You know which players could be slow to turn or not at full speed and easy to run past.

You were halfway through making some notes on yesterday’s match when your phone buzzed. You instantly jumped to grab it to see who it was, scolding yourself when you realised you were disappointed that it wasn’t Chris. Instead, it was your best friend back in LA, Tommi.

Tommi: Hey how’s unpacking going?

Y/N: Done, free to videochat?

Tommi: Yes! I need to vent!

You chuckle as you close the tab playing yesterday's match on your laptop and start video calling Tommi. She picks up almost immediately, her hair dishevelled, tied up in a messy bun, a glass of wine in her hands.

It was a sight that you knew very well, like you, Tommi grew up on the East Coast but down in New York instead of New England. The two of you had met at college when you ended up being roommates, the rest was pretty much history. You became fast friends and incredibly close you couldn’t believe you had gotten through life before her. She had moved to LA a couple of years before you and you were both so excited when you got the job at LA Lions.

“Do I need wine or will beer do?” you ask holding up your bottle.

“Beer will do” She nods taking a large sip of her wine.

“What’s up wedding planning again?” you ask tilting your head sympathetically.

Tommi lets out a long sigh “Yeah…”

“Didn’t you guys get a wedding planner to help with it all?” you ask with a small shake of your head.

“We did and she’s great but it’s hard to make any decisions when Dan isn’t there to make the decisions with me, we were supposed to go cake tasting today but he had a work emergency” she pouts, her shoulder slumping.

“That’s annoying, are you able to reschedule?” you ask with a sympathetic look.

“Yeah but not for another couple of months! This bakery is so popular that it was near impossible to get the tasting appointment in the first place!” Tommi vents before taking another large sip of her wine.

“Is there anything else you can get sorted sooner so you feel like you’re making progress?” you suggest.

Tommi sits back and tilts her head as she thinks “No not really” she sighs “Weddings suck, don’t ever do it” she adds making you laugh.

You knew she was joking, despite how much stress the planning was causing she was actually really excited. Tommi and Dan were the definition of love, you didn’t think you could find anyone more in love than the two of them. When you first met Dan you had been pretty sceptical, nobody could be good enough for your bestie, but Dan really was and it made you crave that sort of love.

Before you knew it you started picturing it, startling when you realised that you were picturing Chris. That was not a good idea at all. You needed a bucket of ice water stat.

“What’s that look on your face?” Tommi asks frowning at you, pulling you completely from your thoughts.

“Oh um, nothing” you say waving her off “Just trying to think of a solution for you” you lie.

Tommi’s eyes narrow as she leans in closer to her screen before gasping dramatically “You had sex!” she exclaims.

“What! No! No, I didn’t!” you stutter shaking your head, knowing Tommi would not approve of you jumping into someone’s bed so soon. Well, Chris did jump into your bed but you didn’t think she would accept that loophole.

“Yes! Yes, you did! I can see that glow! It’s faded a bit but it’s there! Who! How!” she exclaims.

“It was nothing just a one-night stand” you relent “I met him at the bar last night”

“The rugby bar?” Tommi questions her brow pinching together slightly “Was it a fan?”

Your silence as you tried to work out how best to answer the question gave her the answer she was after “Y/N” she said with a long sigh “Please tell me it was one of the opposition players”

You pause for a moment “It was one of the opposition players” you lie.

Tommi saw straight through you “Y/N… I love you… but…” she says drifting off at the end as she tries to work out how to kindly reprimand you.

You knew exactly what she was thinking. You got yourself into the mess with Bryce because you slept with him. Who’s to say you won’t end up in the exact same mess again with Chris? There was a reason people say don’t shit where you eat.

“I know, I know” you sigh “but he just- he seemed different, I felt safe in his company and he was nothing like Bryce”

“He’s a rugby player, they’re all the same. Player is literally in the title” Tommi argues “What’s his name? I need to see if he gives off player vibes”

You wanted to argue that they’re not but gave her Chris’ name anyway. You’ve met and worked with plenty of rugby players and not all of them were bad, there were some really sweet guys. Chris seemed to be one of the sweet ones.

“Okay he’s hot I’ll give you that, and he seems nice but there’s that player look in his eyes, one that says he’s sexy and he knows it” Tommi says as she scrolls through photos of Chris on her phone.

“I needed to get back on the horse though, I don’t want what happened with Bryce to stop me from doing what I want” you argue.

Tommi lets out another long sigh, you could understand her hesitance, she has never been the type of person who could do one-night stands. She just didn’t get them, she needed that emotional connection, whereas you could make do with just physical. She never judged you though and never criticised the fact that your list was much longer than hers.

“Okay, I just worry about you that’s all, what Bryce did and what you went through was properly shitty and I don’t want you to go through that again especially now you’re thousands of miles away” She eventually sighs.

You smirk “Don’t act like you wouldn’t jump on the first flight over” you say knowingly.

“I would, but the only reason I want to visit you is for happy reasons” she retorts.

“Okay, that’s fair” you chuckle “But don’t worry it’s fine, it was just a one-time thing,” you say trying to sound convincing.

Once again her eyes narrow “Why did that sound wrong? Like you were trying to convince yourself”

You let out a groan, you could never hide anything from Tommi. She had crazy mindreading and people-reading skills, which you guess helped her in her career in PR, but it was annoying when she put those skills to use on you.

“Fine, I’m just struggling to get him out of my head because fuck the sex was so good, like best I’ve ever had, like the sex you talk about in those books you read” You relent.

Tommi’s eyebrows rise slightly “That kind of sex doesn’t exist” she says.

“It does trust me and it’s addicting and my brain is saying it's a one-time thing only but my body is just begging for more” you huff slumping back against the couch “like if Chris walked in right now I would jump his bones it was that good”

Tommi sighs pursing her lips “I’m happy for you, everyone deserves good sex but listen to your head, you’re playing with fire if you sleep with him again. Right now you’re just remembering good sex, whose to say the next time with him won’t be shit. If you end it now you won’t have ruined it”

You nod your head slowly, what she said made sense, why risk tainting a good memory? While you weren’t drunk last night, there was definitely alcohol in your system, maybe you were more drunk than you realised and it was the alcohol making the sex seem better than it was.

“Yeah you’re right, thanks Tommi” you sigh.

“It’s nothing I’m glad I can still provide sound advice miles away” Tommi smiles warmly.

“Me too and don’t worry about your wedding planning, if you need me to give Dan a kick up the ass I will, I’m sure it comes under maid of honour duties” you smirk making her laugh.

“Thank you, the wedding is still ages away so we have time, i’m just stressing over nothing” Tommi sighs.

You nod in agreement “I think we’ve had a good vent session if I do say so myself” you smirk.

“Hear hear” Tommi cheers holding up her glass before drinking the rest of her wine, you laugh following her example by downing the rest of your beer.

Chris let out a quiet groan as he climbed out of his car, his calf twinging in pain as he stood. He’d hoped that the recovery he had done yesterday would have been enough but he clearly overexerted himself on Saturday.

A smile tugs at his lips when he thinks back to Saturday. He hadn’t expected his night to go like that but he doesn’t regret it at all, in fact, he could barely stop thinking about it. He was no stranger to hookups but none had been like that, none had lingered in his mind.

He wondered if you felt the same way, he guessed so considering the text conversation the two of you had yesterday. That was until you just stopped replying halfway through the afternoon. He guessed, hoped that it was just because you were busy not because you decided to ghost him.

Pulling out his phone he quickly checked it to see if he had just missed you texting him back but there was nothing. He considered shooting you another text but before he had the chance he heard someone shouting out his name.

Glancing up he spotted Jensen walking across the parking lot towards him, quickly pocketing his phone, Chris locked his car and walked over towards Jake.

“Hey man, get up to anything fun yesterday?” Chris greets him with a forearm handshake.

“Downloaded this new game so was just playing that all day, what about you?” Jensen asks as the two of them walk towards the training centre.

“Just watched back our game and watched the Knights game see what they’re playing like” Chris shrugs as he opens the door.

“Man, do you ever take a day off?” Jensen exclaims shaking his head as he steps inside.

“I can take a day off when we win the championship” Chris retorts knowing there was no way Jensen could argue with that.

“Fair enough” Jensen shrugs “At least you came out with us on Saturday whereabouts did you get to anyway? No one saw you leave” he then asks.

Chris for a second considers saying he went home with someone but decides against it. It wasn't his team's business what he did and who he did. Chris liked his privacy, what he did in the bedroom stayed in the bedroom.

“Just went home, sorry I didn’t say but I knew Storm would try and convince me to stay out,” Chris says nodding to the winger who looked like he was recovering from a 2-day hangover.

Jensen snorts as he claps Chris on the shoulder “I don’t blame you” he chuckles as they join the rest of the team in the video playback room.

Chris nods in agreement as he sits down. Looking around at the team he was glad it seemed to be only Johnny who was still suffering from a hangover, sat in the darkest corner of the room with his hoodie pulled up over his head. Everyone looked a little tired but it was a Monday so Chris couldn’t blame them.

Finally, Coach Y/L/N and the rest of the coaching team walked, including Andy the assistant coach. Chris always felt a little pang of sympathy when he watched Andy coach, he’d been at the high of his career until a knee injury forced him to retire far earlier than any player wants to.

“Right, how many of you have had a chance to review the game?” Coach Y/L/N asks as he plugs in his laptop.

Almost all of the players in the room raise their hands, earning an approving hum from the coach.

“And did any of you catch the knight's game?” he follows up, every hand going up this time, even Johnny who looked like the movement made the room spin.

“They were awful, got an easy match next week” Ari smirks as he leans back in his chair.

“Or they’ll attack harder next week” Andy warns “Never go into a match thinking it’ll be easy, you’ll get complacent and that's when the worse happens” the rest of the team hums in response taking his warning on board.

“Barber is right, but before we jump into the game analysis there’s a couple of announcements” Coach Y/L/N says glancing at his watch with a sigh “She said she wouldn’t be late but… I'll get started anyway” he continues rolling his eyes “we have a new medic joining the team-”

At that exact moment the door to the video playback room opens, light streaming in which made Johnny hiss as it hit him directly in the eyes. When Chris’ eyes adjusted to the change in light they widened when he saw it was you standing in the door. What the hell were you doing here?

“Sorry, got a little lost” you apologise as you shut the door behind you and move towards Coach Y/L/N.

“So much for a good impression,” Coach Y/L/N smirks at you, earning a roll of the eyes, before he turns back towards the team “As I was saying we have a new medic, meet Y/N, she’s the best in the business even if I am a little biased”

Chris felt like his brain was short-circuiting, he wouldn't be surprised if sparks were flying from his head as his brain went into meltdown. Why were you here? Why did the coach talk to you like he was very familiar with you already?

“I’m sure you all will be very welcoming, but it’s my duty as a father to tell you all to keep it professional, Y/N is off-limits, that means no dating Storm” Coach Y/L/N warns pointing over to Johnny the known player on the team.

Duty as a father? No way is Coach Y/L/N your dad, no way did Chris already break the off-limits rule.

“Dad” you complain quietly, glaring daggers at him, your face flushing.

Fuck.

Chris was dead. He was dead. He will never see his team lift that championship trophy because he was about to be killed by his coach.

His gaze shifted to you to see you were completely avoiding his gaze. He let out a small scoff as he crossed his arms and looked down. You knew. You knew who he was and how your father would react and you said nothing. You invited him back to your apartment knowing it would paint a target on his back.

Chris was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you leave until the door shut behind you. Even with your departure, Chris couldn’t focus, he just sat there the entire session stewing, kicking himself for being so stupid. He barely participated, many of the insights he noticed during his re-watches went unsaid. All he could think about was getting out of here, tracking you down and asking WHAT THE FUCK!

He had to bide his time though as straight after the analysis session was a gym session. Chris hoped that maybe some exercise would help him work through some of his anger at the situation but he was not so lucky because you were observing the session alongside Andy.

Chris watched you as he did bicep curls, his teeth gritted not just in exertion but in frustration. You were barely paying him any attention, you were instead focussing on Johnny who was doing some weighted run across the gym. You were acting like he didn’t exist and it pissed him off. But not as much as when Andy said something to make you laugh, your hand landing on his arm as you threw your head back laughing.

He finally got your attention when he dropped his weights back on the floor, the sound of them hitting the ground reverberating around the gym. Your brows furrowed slightly as you studied him for a second, only to turn your attention back to Andy.

That pissed Chris off even more so even though he knew his leg still hurt he decided to join Johnny and do some weighted runs. That definitely got your attention, he could feel your eyes on his back as he strapped the trolley around his waist and prepared for his first sprint. When he turned back around he saw you watching him intensely, your brows furrowed slightly.

Chris ignored you though, gave you a taste of your own medicine, and began his first run. He instantly felt the twinge of pain in his calf but he pushed through, he just needed the loosen the muscle up that's all. When he was done he pushed the trolley back to the start ready to start again.

He went a few more times before his leg completely went forcing him to hop and come to a stop. You were instantly over to him kneeling down as he sat down on the floor to massage his poor calf.

“You okay?” you ask tilting your head.

“Fine, just cramp” Chris huffs standing back up before you could do anything “Already gone” he states as he turns around and walks off to go back to biceps curls.

He tried to just focus on his workout and not you nor the pain in his leg but he did catch you watching him a bit more intensely now. A flash of satisfaction shoots through him knowing that but he quickly pushes that down.

When the session came to an end Chris was making his way out but Andy stepped in his way “Hey your leg doesn’t look good, go down to the medic and get it strapped and properly stretched out” he told him.

“It's fine” Chris huffs.

“That wasn’t a request” Andy states, his gaze turning hard.

Chris huffs before suddenly realising this was his opportunity to confront you and find out exactly what had gone down. He gives Andy a quick knock before making his way to the medical room making his arrival known with a short sharp knock.

“Come in” he heard you call out from inside.

Walking in Chris saw you crouched down by one of the cupboards sorting through some of the supplies. You glanced over to see who it was, eyes widening slightly when you saw it was him.

“Here for the leg?” you ask standing up and brushing off your hands.

“Amongst other things” Chris states crossing his arms across his chest.

You arch a brow at him and gesture towards the bed “Sit down and let me take a look” you tell him.

Chris lets out another huff but does as you tell him moving over to the bed and jumping up.

“So what does it feel like?” you ask pulling on some gloves and moving over towards him.

“Tight” Chris huffs.

You furrow your brows at him as if you were confused as to why he was pissed “Right well it doesn’t feel like you’ve done any serious damage” you say as you feel his calf muscle “Just need to do some stretches and maybe skip leg day” you add with a knowing look.

“Fine” Chris mutters as he pushes himself up from the bed, brushing past you.

“Hey, what’s up? You’re acting like a bit of a dick” you huff turning around to face him.

“What’s up?” Chris scoffs “You know damn well what’s up”

“No I don’t!” you exclaim looking at him in disbelief and confusion.

“You knew exactly who I was and didn’t feel the need to tell me who you were! Your dad is going to kill me if he finds out what we did!” Chris whispers harshly, not wanting to raise his voice and bring attention to this conversation.

“What? I didn’t hide anything” you exclaim, your brows nearly disappearing into your hairline.

“Yes, you did you hid who you were from me” Chris hisses.

You look at him bewildered “Well I’m sorry I didn’t announce who my dad was but it was pretty fucking obvious, I told you I was a medic and came from a rugby family, you would have known the Bears were looking for a new medic” you argue gesturing wildly with your arms “it takes two to tango”

“I wouldn’t have tango’ed if I’d known” Chris growls stepping closer and cornering you back against the wall.

“Oh come on you’re being ridiculous!” you complain “We’re grown-ass adults! I don’t need Daddy’s permission to sleep with someone” Chris’ nostrils flare as he tries to think of a response “If you wanna feel better about it my dad said no dating, I don’t know about you but I don’t consider sex to be a full-blown relationship” you point out “casual sex or… friends with benefits is still on the table” you continue your head tilting slightly as your gaze changed from irritated to turned on.

That seems to snap Chris out of his stupor “No, this…” he says gesturing between the two of you “is over”

“What just because coach said so?” you huff before taking a deep breath “Look,” you say holding your hands up “Saturday night was the most… fun, I’ve had in a while and I feel pretty confident to say you found it fun too”

Chris’ jaw clenches as tries to deny it but can’t, only this morning he was considering calling you to schedule round two. But knowing who your dad was changed everything, yeah he shouldn’t let his coach stop him from doing what he wanted to do but he had the championship to worry about.

“So if you change your mind, you know where to find me” you say standing up tall “Don’t forget your stretches” you add patting his chest as you brushed passed him and walked out of the medical room.

Chris blinked a couple of times as he watched you go, completely bewildered at the change in tone. He was still pissed but when he put his hands on his hips and looked down he saw the evidence of the other emotion he was feeling being so close to you. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to quickly readjust himself.

“Behave” he grumbled to himself as he walked back out of the room

Chris was so rilled up from training and his encounter with you that he felt close to bursting and needing a release. Exercising hadn’t helped, he couldn’t talk to his teammates about it. He considered talking to his mom about it but decided he needed someone with a bit more discretion. Frankly, he didn’t really want to talk about it either, he didn’t see how it would help, he just needed a distraction.

Hence why he was now standing outside his brother’s apartment building, repeatedly pressing the buzzer to get Scott’s attention.

“Alright, alright calm down” His brother’s voice finally came through over the intercom “Who is it?”

“It’s me” Chris huffs.

“Sorry, I don’t know anyone named me” Scott replies making Chris groan in irritation, Scott knew exactly who he was and Chris wasn’t in the mood for games.

“Scott not now” Chris states his tone sharp.

“God what put you in a bad mood” Scott huffs, still not letting Chris into the building.

“Right now, you” Chris grumbles “Now are you gonna let me in or not?”

“What’s the magic word?” Scott asks in a singsongy tone.

“Scott” Chris growls in warning.

“Nope, incorrect,” Scott says.

“Scott c’mon open up I’m not in the mood” Chris groans, hitting the buzzer again when he’s met with only silence “Scott!”

“What’s the magic word?” Scott asks again.

Chris lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose “Please?” he’s met with silence again, silence that drags out long enough that Chris considers just giving up before he finally hears the sound of the door unlocking.

“Finally” he mutters to himself as he pushes the door open and makes his way inside.

When he reaches Scott’s floor, Scott is already standing waiting for him with his arms crossed “Bad training session?” he asks as Chris walks over.

“Something like that” Chris grumbles as they walk inside Scott’s apartment.

“Wanna talk about it?” Scott asks as he closes the door behind them, Chris considers it for a moment before shaking his head “Right Beer and MarioKart it is then” Scott decides before walking towards the fridge.

“Thanks” Chris says letting out a long sigh as he sits down on the couch and stretches out.

For the next hour or so the Evans Brothers played race after race. It was pretty even who was winning which just made it get even more competitive, to the point where they decided to play Rainbow Road, the track neither of them were good at to crown the winner.

It had been a good distraction up until that point, but every time Chris’ character fell off the track his mind would wander until it was near impossible not to talk about it.

“I slept with the Coach’s daughter” he finally announces.

It catches Scott off guard so much so that he spits out his beer, and his character plummets from the track. Scott turns to face Chris, the race now completely forgotten.

“You did what?” he blinks.

“In my defence, I didn’t know who she was and she didn’t tell me either” Chris reasons.

“Damn, does the coach know?” Scott asks as he wipes the rest of the beer from his face.

“No, but when he introduced her to the team he gave a pretty clear warning to stay away” Chris explains.

Scott’s brows furrow in confusion, his head tilting “Why would he introduce her? Isn’t that just asking for trouble?” he asks.

“Because she’s the new medic” Chris explains.

Scott’s lips form a small ‘o’ in understanding before a smirk grows on his lips “You still like her, don’t you? You want the forbidden fruit”

“No” Chris grumbled but even he could hear how unconvincing he sounded.

“Okay, if she wasn’t the coach’s daughter would you want to sleep with her again?” Scott asks with a knowing look.

“I mean yeah” Chris admits with a shrug of his shoulders “but she is so I can’t”

“What does she think about all this?” Scott then asks.

“She doesn’t care, says he can’t stop her from doing what she wants” Chris answers shaking his head “And she pointing out that he said no dating, he didn’t say no hook-ups or anything casual”

“I mean she’s got a point, you’re both adults if you wanna sleep with her and she wants to sleep with you there’s no problem” Scott shrugs.

Chris looks at his brother in disbelief, he thought Scott would be on his side “The problem is that we have a championship to win, I can’t let a girl mess with that by getting in my head” Chris argues.

“Sounds like she’s already in there” Scott mutters as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Not anymore, me and her are over” Chris states “It was a mistake that I’m never repeating again no matter how good it was”

Scott quietly snorts shaking his head “Yeah you tell yourself that”

That evening when Chris got home, despite talking to Scott and making the decision that he’d never sleep with you again, he still felt restless. He’d taken Dodger for a long walk to see if that helped, it didn’t. He actually managed to wear the poor pup out which was a feat.

No matter what he tried he just couldn’t get you off his mind. What really didn’t help was doing the stretches he needed to do to get rid of the tightness in his leg. If he could he would just ignore the direction and let his leg heal on its own but he had to get himself match ready.

When he was finally done he decided to go have a shower to cool off, he needed to get you off his mind. If he couldn't get you out of his head before the next game he would be screwed. He couldn’t be distracted, he needed to be at the top of his game and not make any mistakes.

Stepping inside his shower he almost instantly turned the temperature down. He knew he should be using hot water to help his muscles relax but cold water felt much better right about now.

Except for the fact, it wasn’t really working and when he glanced down he groaned when he saw his cock standing proud. He tried to ignore it and just focus on what he needed to do but it was growing impossible with every second.

He just needed a release that’s all. It had absolutely nothing to do with you it was just a release. As long as he didn’t think about you it would be completely fine.

He repeated that to himself as he wrapped his hand around his erection and started working his hand up and down. His eyes fluttered shut as a groan escaped his lips. Yes, this was exactly what he needed.

As he continued to work himself his mind began to wander, picturing your hand around his cock instead. As soon as he realised what he was doing he stopped himself, shaking his head trying to rid that image from his mind but it only got stronger.

Before he knew it he was picturing you down on your knees, your lips wrapped around his cock. He let out a long moan bracing himself against the wall as he pictured you taking him down your throat, your hand cupping his balls.

“Fuck” Chris groaned as he started pumping himself faster.

His daydreams about you only got more vivid, all of his senses betraying him. He could have sworn he could feel your nails digging into the back of his thighs, the feel of your hair in his hands as he guided you. He could smell the scent of your arousal that just made him want to turn your around and fuck you from behind. He could hear your moans and feel the vibrations of them around his cock.

“Ah shit” he curses as he finally came, his spend hitting the shower wall.

His chest heaved as he came down from his high, his eyes screwed shut and presses his forehead against the cool tile. The image of you was still flashing in his mind, the way you’d lick up every last drop he gave you, the way you’d look up at him through your lashes with a playful smirk that guaranteed he’d be hard again in no time at all.

Eventually, the image of you faded and Chris opened his eyes, finding him still alone in the shower. The ice-cold water stung his back. He let out a long sigh as he quickly cleaned himself up and stepped out of the shower.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror as he wrapped a towel around his face. Even he could see the distracted look on his face. He’d found a release but he wasn’t ready to admit it wasn’t the one he’d been craving. It had taken the edge off but something was still lingering.

He just prayed it would be enough and soon enough the craving would go entirely.

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Series Masterlist / Masterlist

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#niamhwrites #Boston Bears Series #Boston Bears: Off-Limits #Rugby AU #Rugby Player!Chris #Chris Evans #Chris Evans x Reader #Chris Evans x Y/N #Chris Evans x You

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streamingcolors-gvf · 11 months

Text

Skin Deep - Part 6

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 15.4K

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking so long with this update. I hope this hits the spot after my long break! This is a Jake chapter so be ready!

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback y’all give me ❤️

Major shout out to Hannah @capturethechaos for helping me pull the last bits of this chapter together for you guys. Without her, I’d be struggling.

Also props to my lovely Nessa @asparrowofthedawn for keeping me grounded when I doubt myself on here and giving me all the ideas.

Warnings: cursing, smoking/tobacco use, jealousy, sexually explicit content - 18+/MINORS DNI!! (Unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, some dom stuff, idk.. y’all know me by now)

Part 5, Masterpost

You slide between the covers of your bed, swearing to yourself that the feeling of the sheets gliding against your freshly-shaved legs is something you’ll never be able to replicate. It’s what you’ve been craving since you stepped into that bar earlier tonight when you were dragged out to see your friends for a few rounds of drinks.

Seeing and catching up with them was something you desperately needed, but what they didn’t know was that you had been torturing yourself the entire time with Josh and Jake on your mind. It’s been like that for days. Just your brain replays every single moment you’ve had with them on a continuous loop while you overanalyze it all to death.

After the night Josh had given you his tattoo, the both of you have been wrapped up in the monotony of your busy, everyday lives. Sure, you’ve exchanged some flirty messages and even a few pictures over the last few days, but it failed in comparison to what you had with him. Jake, on the other hand, hadn’t spoken to you since that morning in their kitchen, which has left things pretty unknown between the two of you.

You do know that with these types of arrangements, everything can end as soon as it started, and it would be easy for you to sabotage it all with your overthinking. It’s just proving more difficult than you initially expected.

You like to think of Josh as an open book. You can flip through all the pages, but half of it happens to be written in invisible ink. Jake in comparison is sealed shut, and just to throw in another curveball, it's as if he is reading random lines throughout the story to you without an ounce of context.

While your cat sleeps between your legs as you scroll through your phone, the device begins to vibrate in your hand with the banner for an incoming phone call appearing on the top of your screen. You don’t recognize the number since it’s not one of your saved contacts. Normally you would decline the random call, but there is something about it that makes you reconsider swiping it away.

You tap the screen to accept and bring your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

A few seconds pass before a raspy voice from the other side of the line responds, “Dove.”

There’s no question as to who it is, but you ask anyway, “Jake?”

A breathy drawn-out chuckle crackles in your ear, taunting you, “You’re good at this.”

The sound makes your chest feel heavy, while somehow causing that fluttery feeling to blossom in your stomach. Men have never intimidated you before, especially to this degree, but he makes you nervous, and you haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly why. You know he can’t see your smile starting to form, but you’re sure he can hear it through the line. You do your best to bite it back, and throw in a frustrated groan for good measure, “What do you want? Better yet, tell me how you got my number first.”

He scoffs loudly into the receiver, “Oh, I can fuck your brains out but I can’t call you? You have some interesting boundaries, baby.”

You can hear the alcohol in his system from the lazy cadence of his voice alone. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

You scold him with a defeated sigh, “…Jake.”

A couple of seconds pass before he pushes a sleepy hum through the line, “Mmmm, yes?”

You pull your phone away to check the time before bringing it back to your ear with a heavy roll of your eyes. “Why are you calling me at one in the morning?”

“I wanted to hear your voice.” As jaded as you are, there’s a genuine softness to the admission that sends warmth to your heart even though you’re certain there’s a different intention behind the late call.

You listen closely, but you don’t hear any background noise through the end of the line that would indicate he’s out tonight. “Where are you?”

“You like to ask a lot of questions. But if you must know, I’m at home in my bed with my dick in my hand.”

You huff at the thought, convincing yourself that he’s only saying it to get you flustered. What you try to do instead, is picture how his night must’ve played out for him to call you this late. “So you couldn’t get laid tonight and I’m your last option?”

He laughs, filling your ears with the nasal cackle. It’s a fleeting moment of what it truly sounds like before he takes a calming inhale through his teeth. “Feisty tonight. And no. I never said that. If I wanted a woman in my bed tonight, there would be. And the only reason there isn’t is because you’re not here.”

You blush at the thought and the witty remark you had loaded vanishes off your tongue. He does that — making your brain go all fuzzy when usually you’d be so sure of yourself.

The line is left open for longer than you intend as you chew on your bottom lip in a desperate search for something clever to say, making him ask, “What are you doing? Can I come over?”

Your mind is racing with possibilities, but you ultimately sigh in defeat, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jake.”

“Why?” He huffs in disbelief, giving away the fact that rejection is not something he’s used to.

“Because it’s obvious you’ve been drinking and I’m in my pajamas and bed already snuggling with my cat. That’s why.”

He hums before clicking his tongue in thought, “I dunno…those sound like reasons why I should come over.”

Before he has the chance to convince you, which you know he can, you cut in abruptly, “I’m hanging up now. Goodnight, Romeo.”

“Wait!” The rise in volume makes you jump and pull the phone from your ear. “Hold on a second. I just wanna talk to you for a few minutes.”

You know it’s risky to entertain him, but your curiosity keeps you tethered to the conversation.“Go ahead, start talking.”

“Oh no, she’s starting to be a brat.” The sarcasm laden in his voice makes your brain tingle more than you’d like to admit.

You smile like an idiot as you adjust your position on the bed to get as comfortable, but your movement disturbs your cat's slumber enough for him to give you an annoyed chirp before hopping onto the floor.

Just mentioning his brother’s name would be like dousing a fire with a gallon of gasoline, but you do it anyway. “Where’s Josh?”

He doesn’t even attempt to hide the irritation when he scoffs, “I don’t fucking know. But he’s not here on this phone call with us, is he?”

“No, he’s not.”

Realizing that he might have overreacted, he relaxes, taking on a more comforting, silken tone, “Then let’s keep this between us, dove. No need to worry about him tonight.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Dove?” He pauses as if he’s falling back into his thoughts. “I think it’s because you’re so soft and delicate. Especially when I can feel you tremble…how your heart races when you’re in my hands —like a beautiful little dove.”

You didn’t anticipate him having a real answer, because truthfully, you never put much thought as to why he called you the pet name before now.

As if the silence between you becomes too unbearable for him, he blurts out, “I’ve been thinking about you.”

Based on what you know about him so far, admitting something like this seems very unlike him, so you follow up, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes heavily into the phone, but you imagine that breath fanning across the vulnerable skin of your neck instead. “Is it bad that I can’t stop thinking about your pussy wrapped around my cock?”

You’re not sure what you should have expected, but the turn in conversation to dirty talk makes your face flush with heat and your chest constricts from the thought alone. “No… I don’t think so.”

“No?” The changing inflection of his voice reveals that he senses the shyness coming through in your meek response. “You like knowing that the thought of filling you up again has been on my mind all fucking week?”

You can picture it so vividly. His words spark the memory of his cock deep inside you, the way he fills you up, and how he eventually runs down your inner thighs. You involuntarily squeeze them together, but only to clench around absolutely nothing.

He chuckles softly through the drunken confessions, the bitterness of liquor coating every word that passes from his lips. “You got me hooked. You know, I was at the bar tonight and all I wanted was to hear those sweet little cries of yours when you beg for me…when you say my name.”

“Jake…” You whisper into the line. What he’s saying to you is taking you by surprise, but not in an uncomfortable way. In a way that freezes the mechanisms of your mind from working properly. In a way that makes you feel anxious because you might say the wrong thing and embarrass yourself — ultimately ruining this moment.

In the typical phone sex fashion, he asks, “What are you wearing, dove?”

An airy laugh flutters from your throat as you pull at the loose clothing draped across your body, “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Jake, but I’m wearing a ratty t-shirt and pajama pants.” You stifle the groan of self-loathing while pinching the bridge of your nose knowing that you could’ve just lied and made up anything that your heart desires.

“Sexy.” The way he drunkenly drags out the word helps you visualize a smile on his face. He then adds without skipping a beat, “Do you like lingerie?”

Feeling like this is your chance to have the upper hand, you tease back, “I do. So, Jacob, are you telling me you’re a lingerie guy?”

He snorts a laugh, adding levity to what has been a tense interaction otherwise.“What man isn’t?”

You pick at the threads of your duvet while you reflect on past partners through the years. “I dunno. I feel like some men would rather get it off as soon as possible.”

You hear a judgemental hum before he answers, “Well, it seems like you’ve been wasting your time with the wrong men.”

Your tone is teasing, yet flirty, “And you’re the right man?”

“I never said that.” He pushes out a deep sigh, “Honestly, I have a feeling that I might be the worst thing for you, baby.”

He’s probably right about that, but you’re stubborn enough to want to find that out for yourself. You could question what he means by it, but you choose to mentally flip through your wardrobe trying to remember what you might have until something pops into your brain. “I have this pretty black set that I bought a few months ago. I think you might like that one.”

You hear a soft, muffled groan come through the line, “Would you try it on for me?”

Something has changed in his voice. It’s not the usual demand or teasing remark you usually get from him. He wouldn’t admit this, but you hear the desperation in the request. The barely-there whine blessing your ears — the way it seems like he’s groveling at your feet for it.

“Give me one moment,” You huff out as you nearly fly out of your bed, tumbling onto the floor on your way to your closet. You tap the speaker icon and place the phone down on your dresser and walk over to your closet to search for the lingerie set somewhere in the heaps of clothes.

A pleased chuckle comes from the speaker, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Flipping through the collection of hangers, you spot the recognizable material sticking out amongst the rest of your clothing and pull out the strappy, black corset bra with its matching lace panties. You’re partial to the modest, simple set. It’s not flashy or complicated compared to a lot of lingerie that you’ve seen in some specialty boutiques, but it’s without a doubt the nicest item you’ve bought for yourself in a long time — something that would probably look flattering on anyone.

You hold it out in front of you, reliving the fond memory of buying it and how much you love the way you look in it until you hear Jake’s voice echoing throughout your small bedroom, “Are you still there?”

“You’re so impatient.” You step out of your closet, scolding him half-heartedly now that you’re experiencing another wave of confidence. You rush to yank the t-shirt that has its fair share of holes over your head and onto your bedroom floor. Next to join the pile at your feet are the arguably not-as-sexy cotton briefs you’ve worn to bed.

“Where the fuck did you go? Narnia?”

“I think you underestimate the vastness of a woman’s clos—“ Your snarky response is suddenly cut off when your foot snags the leg hole of the panties, sending you toppling over head first. Thankfully, you catch yourself on the edge of the dresser before you fall over completely. You do your best to stifle back the groan of pain, hoping he didn’t hear your embarrassing moment of clumsiness.

Which proves to be a failure when he asks, “What was that? Are you okay?”

You straighten and finish pulling the panties up the rest of the way while you answer, “Yeah, yeah…just tripped a little. I’m fine.”

He responds with a little drunken giggle, “Aww, weak in the knees for me already, baby?”

The bad joke paired with the pet name he’s let slip a few times instantly redirects your thoughts to his twin. “I wasn’t aware that I was talking to Josh on the phone.”

You wince and brace yourself for the repercussions of mentioning his brother. Silence hangs in the air while you clasp the bra, and adjust the straps and material on your body.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice is tight, like an overstretched rubber band ready to snap.

“Relax, Jake.” Now that you have the set on, you sit on the lounge chair that's beside your bed and face the full-length mirror in your room. You do your best to diffuse his annoyance by adding a velvety richness to your voice. “Just that you two are more similar than I think you realize.”

“I’m nothing like him.”

You’re too busy watching your reflection to find the best position for the photo. You drape a leg over the arm of the chair, spreading yourself as you lean back into the cushion and begin feeling across the black lace.

“You act like it’s a bad thing,” You giggle, tapping the camera button, to capture the image.

You hear the text alert from his phone, and all you can do is wait for him to open the message. “Am I gonna see you or wha—oh fuck.”

If you could see him look at the photo, you would see him staring blankly at your mostly naked body in complete awe. You would see how his eyes take in all the details of your top, how he can see your nipples through the sheer black fabric. You would watch them follow the curves of your body down to your hand that’s placed between your open legs.

All you can do is listen closely, just patiently wait for his reaction. You hear it in real-time, his realization that the picture you’ve sent is a Live Photo. “Oh, my god. You’re fucking perfect.”

You imagine him holding his thumb to the photo to watch that short video of you sliding your fingers underneath the fabric before you pull it to the side to show him what’s hidden behind it.

He pushes out a sharp hiss, following the sound with a hushed grunt. “Tell me how it feels on your skin.”

You explore the sheer, thin fabric with your fingers, feeling your hardened nipples through the delicate material. “It’s soft and lacy. I think you would like it.”

“Are you playing with yourself yet, dove?” Once he hears your faint hum, he takes in a staggered breath, “Imagine my fingers taking care of that sweet little clit of yours. Is she hard yet?”

You do just that. You pretend it’s his fingers instead of yours rubbing across the lace covering your clit in teasing, languid patterns. You imagine how his touch is slightly rougher but still mindful of how sensitive you are. “Yeah.”

His labored breathing adds to the strain in his voice, “Good girl. What do you want me to do?”

A thin sheen of sweat has started to collect across your brow, and you swallow back the dryness on your tongue. “Your fingers.”

“Where do you want them?” When you don’t answer him right away, he makes sure to reassure you, “Don’t be shy with me, baby.”

“Inside me.”

“I want you to say it.” His silken voice coaxes you in with each word, every heavy, weighted breath.

Heat blooms in your chest as your heart races within it, but you force yourself to push past that last bit of self-preservation you’ve been holding onto. “I want your fingers inside my pussy.”

“Fuck,” he groans, and for a moment you think you can hear the distinct wet sounds of lube. “I love hearing you say such filthy words, dove.” He pauses for a few seconds to catch his breath before continuing, “I wish I was there right now making you cum on my fingers, stretching that pretty cunt out for my cock.” He grunts another curse, “I’m so hard thinking about it.”

It could be that you just want to hear him say it, or maybe you’re doing it to stroke your ego since he’s already admitted to it moments ago, but you can’t help but ask, “Did you think about me tonight?’

“Of course, dove. I’m not sure if I ever stop.” He sighs, sending static of his muffled breath into the phone before he starts to ramble, “The way you taste. I don’t think I’ll be able to get how you look sucking my cock out of my head. I’m serious when I say I was hard most of the night thinking about you wrapped under my arm, wearing your sluttiest dress. Fuck! I wanna fuck you so bad right now.”

You’ve been touching, feeling, and pleasuring yourself with his gravelly voice acting as your guide. Those words, the graphic details mixing in with his labored, broken breaths cause your imagination to run away from you. “What are you doing?”

He chuckles, “You like thinking about me jerking off to you, baby?”

You laugh with him, because there’s no chance in hell you can admit the amount of time that you’ve already spent thinking about it. “Maybe.”

He keeps his voice low with the taunt, “I know you’re a dirty, little voyeur.”

You shoot up to a sitting position snapping out of your daze enough to blurt out into the receiver, “He fucking told you?!”

He adds to your anxiety with the deliberate pause he takes. “No, but now he doesn’t need to.”

You can’t believe he blindsided you, catching you in the confession. “You fucking bastard.”

He only laughs, filling your head with the intoxicating sound, “So you wanna see the way I play with myself?”

You stay quiet for a few beats too long, imagining the way he’s probably laid out across the silken sheets of his bed like he was the last time you slept with him. You know he has that cocky smirk on his face knowing that you’re going to say yes.

“Come on, dove. I know you want to. Just gotta ask me nicely.”

“Please, Jake,” your voice is a pitiful whisper, lacking all the confidence that would make you sound so sure of yourself. In reality, it’s embarrassing just how quickly you fold and give in to him.

“That’s my girl.”

Your phone begins to vibrate due to the incoming video chat call coming from him. The proposition of seeing him in real-time, while he can also see you, makes you nervous. “Oh, I don’t know about a FaceTime—“

“It’s just me, okay? I want to see you and you want to see me, right?” His voice is beyond enticing — so dangerously silken entering your brain. Just like his twin, he can convince you of anything, and it helps that you were already there, to begin with.

You chew on your lip for a few seconds before hitting the accept button, switching the normal phone call into a video one. Your screen opens up to his rear-facing camera that’s pointed at his ceiling.

More importantly, it’s pointed directly at the mirror on the bedroom ceiling.

And just like how you pictured in your mind, he’s laying flat on his back across his massive bed. His black button-up he probably wore for the night out is completely open, exposing his tattooed chest and stomach. He kicked off his pants, leaving his boxer briefs on — only pulling them down his legs far enough to free his cock.

You can see the reflection of his face past his phone while he slowly plays with himself., noting that your prediction about that smile of his was right. His eyes bounce back and forth between his phone and looking directly into the mirror. “I wish it was your hand stroking me instead. I fucking love the way you touch me. It’s so gentle, almost like you’re scared you’re gonna hurt me.” The way he’s touching himself seems so teasing, following no true pattern or rhythm, as if he was truly pretending it was your hand instead of his own. You watch him pet the underside of his cock with a feather-light touch of his fingertips and how it twitches from the contact. “God, your lips…how your tongue feels on my cock.”

Your brain is going a mile a minute with everything you want to say back to him, but the only coherent thing that forms on your tongue is, “How close are you?”

He groans through an even bigger smile, stretching his neck out while he smacks his dick against his belly, “Close. I’ve been edging myself for a fucking hour thinking about you.” You’ve been too shy to show your stunned expression, so the only view you’ve given him is of the blank white ceiling of your bedroom. “I wanna see that pretty pussy wrapped up like a present for me. Can you show me, dove?”

“Oh, you want to see me?”

“Now look at you being the tease.”

You tilt the camera down, starting your little show by revealing your legs and slowly working your way down until he can see the black lace thong. You then bring your hand into the frame, teasing him with the sight of your fingers brushing across your covered pussy. “What would you do if you were here?”

You break your concentration to watch his hand stall on his cock, like his thoughts have become scrambled inside his head for the very first time, “If I was there with you right now?” He allows his eyes to close while he tries to think of his answer. “Where do I even start?”

He decides to change up your view by dropping the camera down in the same way you have yours — blessing you with his point-of-view of his cock. Now that it’s closer, you can see that it’s shining in the low lighting of his bedroom, completely slick with lube. He glides a tight fist up the length, causing the muscles of his stomach to spasm through the upward stroke. “I want to kiss you, feel how soft your skin is… see how you look in that lingerie. I know the picture doesn’t do you justice.”

You’re committed, picking right where you left off by pleasuring yourself. As you roll your fingers over your clit and slip them inside yourself, you realize that you’re even closer now that he’s eliminated the need for your imagination. He’s showing you in real-time how he jerks himself off thinking about you.

You hear the faint gasp before he continues, “I’d play with your perfect tits, feel your nipples harden against my tongue while I rub over your sensitive clit.” His voice is breathier than it’s ever been from him trying to hold back his moans, “Pull those panties to the side and use my fingers to make you feel so good.” His efforts to keep himself composed have proved fruitless with the amount of liquor in his system. He falls victim to it by what sounds like a whine into the receiver, “I really wish I was there to show you.”

You’re right there with him, giving yourself away with every ragged breath. “I wish you were here too.”

He sighs, “I can hear you getting close, dove.” Based on how he’s starting to pick up the pace of his strokes, it doesn’t seem like he has long either. “Can you come for me?”

Hearing him ask for it is the final push you need, and all you can focus on is the hushed whimpers and moans he lets slip out as he brings himself to the very edge. You’re seconds behind him, watching as holds his cock perfectly still as the first spurt dribbles down the side and over his knuckles. He sucks in a sharp breath before pushing out a string of grunted curses as the rest of his orgasm hits him with an unexpected force. He shoots across his stomach, painting his abdomen with ropes of his cum.

The graphic image overrides your brain, acting as the last mental shove into your climax. You burn it into memory as the rush of pleasure pools between your legs and drowns your senses. As you start to come to, you can’t be sure what you said, or what sounds you might have made, but you do know that you’re a breathless mess strewn across your bed. Your mouth is beyond desert dry and the only thing in your head is the pounding of your heartbeat. “Wow.”

He laughs, but it's obvious from how it sounds that the exhaustion is starting to set in. And since he’s in a worse state than you, he is stuck in the same position with the mess he made across his body. “Yeah…that was fun.”

You laugh, keeping the tone of your voice light even though you’re bummed about the thought of hanging up, “Go ahead and clean up.”

He stretches his legs but keeps his hand in the same place on his cock. His response is groggy, revealing that you wouldn't have that much more time with him anyway, “Yeah, I probably should. Goodnight, dove.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

Since your boss allowed you to leave work early today, you decided to walk down to the tattoo shop and visit Josh for a few minutes before heading home. And to your benefit, it’s a warm spring day, making the half-mile walk from the coffee shop a pleasant one.

With his favorite coffee in one hand, you make the turn around the familiar corner and spot the bold, painted lettering on the shop’s large plate-glass windows. You’re experiencing high school giddiness from knowing you’ll see him within minutes, and it makes your stomach churn wildly with anticipation.

When you walk in, the expected ding from the doorbell chimes through the shop, alerting the staff of your arrival. There are more people in the lobby than you expect, but Sam is the first one to acknowledge as he discusses jewelry options with a potential client over the glass display case. Glancing over to his right, you don’t recognize the other man behind the counter a few feet away from him, but his features are striking enough to pull your attention for only being a stranger. You can see around the person he’s talking to, spotting his shoulder-length, jet-black curly hair framing his angular face and the black t-shirt that reveals his toned, tattoo-covered arms.

As you make your way to the staircase, Sam gives you an approving nod before returning to his current conversation. Unlike the other times you’ve been here, the music is booming through the speakers, mixing with the chatter of multiple people as you start to ascend the stairs.

Once you clear the landing, your eyes bounce around all the activity happening on the second floor, but when you look over to his corner of the room, you see him seated at his station, working away on a tattoo. His client, a young woman around your age if you were to guess, is currently getting a rib piece done from what you can tell at this distance. She’s stretching out across the same flat table you were on days ago, with her flowing bleached locks billowing beneath her, one arm tucked behind her head with most of her sculpted torso exposed from her tiny, cropped tank being pushed up to right below her breasts.

She’s beautiful, blonde, perky, and enthusiastic.

Josh looks good, but there wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind that he would. He’s dressed in his usual casual outfit, wearing one of the standard shop-issued t-shirts and a pair of khakis cuffed at the ankles. His loose curls are swept across his head effortlessly, showing off the fresh touch up to the buzzed sides. It should be you complimenting him. It should be you making him blush and giggle.

You’re far enough that you can't hear the intimate conversation between them, but you can see Josh throwing back his head from the booming laughter leaving him. He’s comfortable with her, inching just a little closer than the minute before. Her other hand is all over him, those manicured fingers touching across his bare arms as she giggles and bats her lash extensions — like a predator honing in on their next prey.

He’s too preoccupied to see you in the center of the room, watching him venture into the trap willingly as he tells her his dumb little jokes and collection of his favorite anecdotes. You can only stand frozen in your spot, staring as she whines in a high-pitched voice that’s best described as ‘grating’ to your ears, “Oh my god, Josh. You’re so funny!”

Your stomach turns sour from the sight alone.

You consider turning around and fleeing down the staircase to save face, to hide the embarrassment festering within you because there’s no way you can stroll over there with his stupid coffee in your hand now.

You suddenly feel lost and out of place here. You’re not welcome. You might as well be just another customer strolling through the shop seeking out their next tattoo. Your flight response is what activates, propelling you back into the direction from whence you came, but before you make it to the stairs, Jake working alone at his desk, hyper-focused on drawing one of his designs stops you right in your tracks. It’s enough to make you fight back your initial urge to just leave and decide to take the chance on walking over to him.

He’s changed things up from his normal long-sleeved button-down, displaying the collection of tattoos that cover his arms by dressing in a faded red t-shirt. With the neckline so loose that it’s stretched out beyond belief, the shirt somehow drapes and fits across him perfectly.

You step beside him, but choose not to say anything at first for fear of interrupting him. You silently watch as he swipes his hand across the paper with confidence, leaving bold strokes of black ink in its path.

If he has any awareness of his surroundings, he would already be in tune with your presence, but you already know him better than that, so his acting like he doesn’t notice you, is blatantly intentional. He’s baited and set the line —effectively making you work for it to see how badly you want his attention — now all he has to do is wait patiently for you to take the first bite.

His pretending you don’t exist allows you to take in how beautiful he looks today. It’s a graceful, delicate beauty that has otherwise gotten overlooked until now. His long, chestnut hair is tucked behind his left ear, exposing the additional silver hoop through his cartilage and the tiny upside-down black and gray dagger tattooed behind it. You’ve nearly chewed a hole through your bottom lip from anxiety, but you take another daring step closer to him.

“Oh, hello, dove,” he coos loud enough for you to hear over the music before peeling away from his paper to look into your eyes. The way his satisfying drawl of voice delivers the greeting nearly makes your knees buckle, especially now that you know the real reason behind the pet name.

“Hi,” you mutter softly while setting the coffee down on his desk. You can’t help but wonder why you’re suddenly shy, bashful even, when you interact with him.

With an air of casual cockiness, he shifts back in his chair to cross a leg over the other and begins drumming his fingers along the top of his knee. It brings your line of vision to the bands of silver wrapped around them as they catch the light, making you note that this is the first time he’s ever worn rings. You know it’s not based on their aged patina finish and how natural they fit on his fingers like his body has remembered their weight over the years.

You give in to the temptation and let your eyes drift down his body to his lap now that he’s facing you. He’s wearing a different style of pants than what you’ve seen so far on him, a black, tight-fitting pair of Dickies. He’s cuffed the bottoms today just like his brother, revealing the laces of his leather Doc Marten boots. The dark pants hug his thighs in the best way possible, leaving very little to the imagination.

He notices the iced coffee you brought right away, but his focus on it doesn’t linger long and he brings his attention to you standing before him. He stares at your fidgeting hands and makes his way up to your eyes and holds on to them, searching for the thoughts until a crooked smile breaks on his face, “What brings you in today?”

You’re showing your cards to him as the indifferent expression on your face begins to falter. There’s an unmistakable amount of tension brewing between you from the last time you had spoken to him. “Just visiting.”

He nods slowly, leaning forward to snatch the coffee off the table, and settles back against the chair. The seconds go by at an excruciatingly slow pace as he spins it in his hand to read the name off the bottom line on the plastic cup. You swallow the lump in your throat as you wait for his inevitable reaction. First, he looks up at you before glancing over to his twin. “I see… and how’s that going so far?”

You dance your fingers along the edge of the desk, studying the clutter of the art supplies across its surface. “I dunno. You tell me. You’re the first one I’ve visited.”

He hums in thought as he takes the first sip from the coffee, effectively claiming it as his own before placing it by his side. He surprises you by reaching out and taking your wrist into his hand, guiding you that much closer to him with a gentle pull. He stares up at you while he begins to massage your palm and down each of your fingers.

For a second your eyes flutter closed and your breath catches in your throat, stopping the chance for a coherent thought to leave your lips. The pressure of his fingers on your skin is sensual, yet deliberate with every touch. He begins to work his way up your arm, but a high-pitched squeal cuts through the bustling noise of the shop, interrupting the moment of tension.

“Oh my god, Josh! You’re so talented! You’re so gonna be my tattoo artist now!”

It’s her. She’s fawning over him, feeding his ego more and more with every praise and empty piece of flattery she throws at him. It’s ridiculous that you’re letting it affect you like this, especially while you flirt away with his twin brother. You’re being a hypocrite, but damn it does it make you feel a certain way to see her touching all over him when you should be the one to do it.

You can’t hold back the heavy roll of your eyes with the scowl pulling at your features, and how you instantly pull your hand from Jake’s grasp out of discomfort. He takes note of the sudden change in your body language and looks over to the source of the sound. Now that they have his attention, his face contorts into a judging stare — true, ill-concealed disgust.

He shakes his head in disapproval, “Don’t worry about her, babe.”

“Worry about what?” You huff to hide the fact that you’re bothered and brimming with jealousy, but he sees right through the facade and decides to distract you by running his open hands up the front of your legs.

He glides his tongue along the sharp edge of his top teeth, teasing you with the sight while he hooks his index fingers through your front belt loops and rubs the pads of his thumbs across the exposed skin, just above the waistband of your jeans. He tugs you forward by the denim loops, making you fall onto his lap. As you tumble onto him, giggles of your own break free, and if you were paying any attention, you would have seen Josh pick his head up and glance over in your direction.

Holding you by the hips, Jake balances you on top of his legs with the help of your hands resting on his shoulders. You’re close. So close that you can feel the warmth of his skin and breath with every soft exhale. It doesn’t help that the phone call has been corrupting your mind the last few days, and now that you can actually touch him, those thoughts start to get away from you. You breathe him in and notice that he smells exquisite, and expensive from the high-end cologne placed directly on his pulse points.

He soaks in the sight of you through heavy lids while rocking you forward, just enough to give your imagination a taste. “Wanna get outta here?”

The question throws you off given that it’s the middle of the day and the shop is at its busiest. So the casual offer with the tone of his voice that’s playful enough, makes you question his real intentions behind it. “Don’t you have appointments?”

“I have a bit of a break today.” He shrugs, responding matter-of-factly with an absent-minded lick of his lips.

He can’t help but smile waiting for your answer while you think over your decision. If you weren’t so distracted, you might be able to, but their genetic similarities between them are screaming at you. Those dark, full prominent brows that express the slightest change in their moods, the corners of their lips that curl up with the faintest of smiles, the same defined nose, even down to the dimple marking their left cheeks.

He’s made you go from feeling shy and nervous to wishing you had him in private all to yourself within seconds. You desperately want to kiss him, but you just know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you crossed the threshold. Once you got that taste of him on your tongue, you’d shamelessly rock yourself on his lap without a care in the world that anyone could be watching.

You clear your throat, pulling yourself from your daydream to entertain the idea of leaving with him, “Where would we go?”

Now that he’s hooked you, that fun smile on his face darkens — turning almost mischievous. “Ahh…see, that’s for you to find out, dove.”

“Of course it is,” You grumble sarcastically while giving into his mysterious ways before you ease yourself off of his legs to stand on your feet. Jake follows suit, wincing through a groan of pain as he pushes himself off the chair. He stops to work out the stiffness of his muscles with a long stretch of his arms over his head, giving you a quick view of his stomach from his lifted shirt.

You stand patiently while he takes a few large sips of the coffee and gathers his phone and keys from the desk. He ushers you toward the stairs, guiding you with a hand placed on the small of your back. The small gesture speaks volumes given the circumstances that have developed over the last few minutes, and though you’ve been trying to ignore them, you chance a look over to Josh’s station.

Josh is staring right at you, just watching you leave without even offering him a simple hello. It’s the first time you’ve seen that cold, unnerving look being shot across the room at his twin. He’s upset, and you would almost feel guilty if it wasn’t for that girl yanking his attention back to her.

Jake doesn’t pay him any mind, which you can’t say surprises you. He’s been given the opportunity to stoke the embers of Josh’s jealousy, and that’s not something he’s willing to pass up.

You get to the bottom of the stairs and just when you think he’s gonna walk to the front door of the shop, he takes you by the hand and brings you behind the front counter. Sam’s still in his designated spot, unpacking boxes of jewelry to display in the expansive glass case. He looks up from his task once he notices you and gives another passing nod, but whips his head back for a double take when he sees that you’re with Jake instead of Josh.

Before Sam can utter a single syllable, Jake calls over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in an hour.” Jake doesn’t give him a chance to respond, and he continues to pull you through the privacy curtain to the hallway.

It feels like you’re crossing into a forbidden area not meant for you, but you try to absorb all the details the best you can anyway. The first room on your left appears to be the room Sam uses for piercing based on the equipment and setup inside. Directly across the hall from it is a bathroom, followed by a small office and a storage closet. The same man from when you first walked into the shop scoots past the both of you, sends a wink, and slaps Jake’s shoulder. “Have fun, you two.”

You follow Jake through the hallway until you come to the back room area. He walks up to a row of old, spray-painted lockers that are mounted to the side of the wall next to the door. “Who was that?”

“Danny.” He answers with his back turned to you and pulls a leather jacket from one of the hooks holding a variety of clothes. He peers over his shoulder to gauge your demeanor. “Don’t tell me you got eyes on him, too.”

You cross your arms and laugh, “I wouldn’t want to humble that ego of yours.” He shakes his head and grabs not one, but two helmets, one glossy white and the other matte black, from a different set of mounted hooks. “What are those for?”

“I’ll show you.”

He takes the lead out the back door, past the dumpster, and out to a small parking lot behind the building — big enough to hold three spaces. You spot and instantly recognize the red, older Camry that was in their driveway when you were at their house last. And next to Josh’s beater, is a motorcycle.

The last thing you would call yourself is an expert on the topic, but it looks like a classic, vintage style of bike. It’s not big and bulky like what you’ve seen with massive Harley motorcycles, but it’s also not a sleek, modern sport bike either. You would guess that it fits somewhere in the middle of that spectrum.

You take a few steps closer to it, shaking your head with a grin spreading across your face.“Why am I not surprised?”

He sets the helmets down on the hood of Josh’s car, but it’s obvious he’s been waiting for your reaction from how his ears perk up. “You ride?”

“No, I mean, I’m not surprised that you have a bike,” you explain. While you’re learning new things about the man every day, this is something that just seems fitting. You continue to stare at it, admiring a beauty that you don’t fully understand yet. “It makes sense.”

With the bike between you, you watch as he pulls his hair back into a low bun and secures it with an elastic from his wrist.“It does? How so?”

You shrug, but his eyes are locked onto you, making you bite at your lip. “I don’t know…you seem like the adrenaline junkie type. Always pushing the limit. That kind of thing.”

He’s amused by your words and shows a soft smile on his lips before pulling the white helmet off the car and walking toward you. “Interesting.”

You know he’ll eventually win, but you can’t make the game too easy for him. With the steps he takes around the bike, you take one back and motion to his hand. “You even got the spare helmet and everything. How often do you offer these kinds of rides?”

He stops in his tracks and scoffs, “Hey, I’m not the one with some random woman fucking me with her eyes right now. No need to get territorial with me, love.”

It was an expertly placed jab that throws you right back into reality. Josh had been pushed to the sidelines and now he exists in the forefront of your mind thanks to Jake’s little quippy remark. He’s right though. You’ve experienced enough jealousy for the day, and it doesn’t do you any good to carry it over to him.

He tries handing you the helmet, but you cross your arms and turn your head away from him. You’re testing him with your attitude, making him push out a frustrated sigh as he takes another step. He’s close enough now that the helmet is pressing up against your stomach. “I am not about to risk having your head crack open on the pavement like an egg because you wanna be a smartass. So either put it on and listen, or go back inside and mope. Your choice.”

“Someone’s bossy today.” You reach for the helmet, but he jerks it away before you can grab it.

“There are a few rules.” His voice is stern with a new serious tone. While looking directly into your eyes and holding out his index finger to emphasize the point, he instructs, “First, you always hold onto me. No exceptions. And I don’t mean those soft little hugs and holding on to only my shirt. I mean you fucking hold onto me when we’re moving.” He takes the helmet and places it at the crown of your head and with a bit of effort, he’s able to slide it on comfortably. It’s a snug fit around your face, and the outside sounds are instantly muffled. He flips the interior and exterior visor up by pressing a button on the side of the helmet. “Hey. Try to be aware of your surroundings, but make sure to keep your weight steady with me, especially when you turn your head to look around.”

He takes the leather jacket and gestures to your arms so he can put it on you. “The bike will almost turn on its own.” His jacket hugs your curves better than both of you anticipated, making him smile. He zips it up and then fastens the chin strap of your helmet as he continues, “So keeping that balance with me is important. It’s really all about the hips, so I need you to squeeze your legs tight and lean forward into my back.”

You nod slowly as you take in the bits of information, feeling a little clumsy and disoriented due to the additional weight on your head. After he tugs at the jacket in different spots on your body to inspect the fit, he taps the top of your helmet. “Comfortable?”

“I think so,” you laugh nervously as you adjust to his leather wrapped around your skin. It’s soft, made of rich, genuine leather that’s held the shape of his body and kept his scent within its worn material. Despite the warm, sunny day, you forgo questioning the need for it, because in all honesty, just having the feeling of something that belongs to him on your skin is enough of a reason.

“Ready to take a ride with me, dove?” He asks and finds the answer from the smile in your eyes since the bottom half of your face is covered by the interior of the helmet. He holds that gaze and shoots you a wink while simultaneously blowing a teasing kiss. He seals the flirty moment with a snap of his gum between his teeth and flips your visor down with the flick of his fingers.

Now satisfied that you’re set in the protective gear, he wiggles his helmet onto his head, face disappearing into the matte-black protective shell. You watch as he transforms into this separate world, taking on another level of confidence and you’re quick to note all the intricate details from this side of him. After he secures his chin strap, he retrieves two pairs of gloves from the hidden seat compartment and hands you the extras.

He mounts the bike and motions to you to get on. The nerves are starting to set in, causing your legs to start taking on the qualities of Jello. You brace yourself on his shoulders and swing a leg over the back to slide into place. He patiently waits for you to get into position on the seat and find the spokes to put your feet on. You think you have it, but you’re startled when he reaches back and hooks his hands behind both of your knees, and pulls you closer.

He goes through the process of putting on his gloves, doing those final adjustments to his helmet, and finally starts the motorcycle. Its engine roars to life and mellows out to a vibrational purr between your legs.

“You good?” He shouts back at you, but most of the volume of his voice is muffled through the helmet. You answer by wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a tight squeeze. He rubs your knee in response and gives it a comforting pat before driving out of the parking lot.

You’re scared. You won’t deny it. Nothing is holding you on except for the strength of your arms and legs. As much as you’re trying to hide it from him, he knows that you’re working through the fear, and stays at a reasonable speed, taking the turns of his route carefully until you get accustomed to the feel of the bike. This level of exposure is nothing like what you’ve experienced before. These same streets you drive daily feel new, and with every shift of a new gear, a wave of adrenaline surges through your veins.

It’s like a rollercoaster, just more dangerous.

You look around at the buildings to guess where he might be taking you until you hear that familiar Bluetooth pairing chime inside your helmet. At first, you think you might’ve imagined it, but the sound is immediately followed by Jake’s smooth voice cracking through the headpiece, “You better hold me a bit tighter, love.” You startle from the unexpected sound, making him chuckle, “I promise I won’t bite that hard.”

He stops at a red light, giving you the chance to relax enough and mutter a curse. “You’re a dick.”

That laugh of his — so delicately woven within the static of the microphone as it fills your head. “Oh come on! You’re having fun. Don’t lie to me.”

You hope he doesn’t have a camera inside the helmet to catch your dramatic eye roll. You’re sulking, maybe due to the fact you’re a little embarrassed he had one up on you this entire time. “You could’ve told me about the helmet.”

While balancing the combined weight of the bike and both of your bodies on his foot, he reaches back and rubs your outer thigh. “And risk not being able to hear all those little whimpers you’re making? Not a chance.”

That flusters you, making the grip loosen around his midsection. He takes your hands, gives a reassuring squeeze and he places them back in their spot before taking off when the light finally changes.

The position you’re holding is a bit awkward at first due to the urge to slide in as close as possible, but after a few minutes of riding, it becomes natural. You eventually take in the scene, watching the cars pass by as he rides between the lanes of traffic.

“So where are you taking me?”

He chuckles before sending the song of his sigh into your earpiece, “You like tacos?”

The randomness of the question makes you giggle. “Yeah, I like tacos.”

“Good. I know the perfect spot.”

He pulls the bike into a mostly-empty parking lot of what looks like an abandoned strip mall. Looking around, you spot the taco truck set up at the far end and a few picnic tables scattered in a grassy area off to the side.

He kills the engine, pulls off his gloves, and helps dismount the bike. “This is the hot spot?”

“I can feel your judgment already. Don’t knock a food truck until you try it, okay?”

After placing your order, you follow him out to the picnic tables while you wait for your food. He sets his helmet down and climbs onto the wooden table with his feet resting on the bench. You watch him dig out a fresh pack of cigarettes and tap the box against his palm. He peels the plastic wrapper off, flips the top open, and grasps the filter of one between his lips.

“The gum wasn’t cutting it?” You tease as you approach him and set your helmet beside his.

He freezes with the open Zippo in hand and the paper of the cigarette sticking to his bottom lip, and looks up at you just as he’s about to light it. A different emotion flashes before you, that guilty look of being caught red-handed. It transforms into a nearly undetectable smirk while he flicks the lighter, brings the flame to the end of the cigarette, and pulls in a satisfying drag that hollows out his cheeks, “Studying my bad habits?”

“That, or maybe you’re just more predictable than you think, Jacob.”

His eyes narrow with the use of his full name. “Predictable? That’s a new one.”

A random surge of confidence compels you to pluck the burning cigarette from between his fingers and bring it up to your lips. You’ve been to enough parties and social situations throughout the years to be familiar with it enough to not act clueless. Even so, the way he’s looking at you causes your hands to shake and for you to cast your eyes elsewhere.

“Yeah.” You pause to gesture with the cigarette in your hand with a sassy click of your tongue. “This whole dark and mysterious bad-boy thing is nothing but a front.”

He leans forward with his elbows propped on his knees to watch you pull in a drag of your own, and his expression seems amused to say the least. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself, doll.”

It’s full-bodied and harsh on your tongue from holding it in your mouth. To impress him and not make an ass out of yourself, you let your bottom lip fall open so you can push the smoke with your tongue to inhale through your nose. You fight the itching urge to cough as you blow what’s left out of your lungs into the air. While exuding the same energy of a best friend’s cooler, older brother, he sees right through the little trick you’ve learned years ago.

Biting back that cocky grin that’s twisting his lips, he takes your wrist and guides your hand slowly up to his mouth. You feel his lips brush ever-so-carefully across your palm before he wraps them around the filter stuck between your fingers.

He mimics the same smoke trick you had done but with the natural ease of being an actual smoker. You try to stay calm and collected while you swallow back the swell of nausea and light-headedness from the rush of nicotine into your system.

“You good?” He asks, blowing the smoky exhale out from the corner of his mouth.

You nod, grunting through the burning sensation eating away deep within your throat. Thankfully, your order being called out from the window of the truck saves you at the moment. You bolt to the window, leaving him at his spot on the table.

Everything is piping hot and made fresh to order with the most authentic ingredients you’ve ever seen. Jake is quick to pour the plastic ramekin of hot sauce across his order of tacos and starts to devour one of them before you can even finish unwrapping your food from the foil.

He’s truly lost in the experience with eyes rolling back while a stream of bright-orange juices from his taco drip down his chin before he has the chance to wipe it clean. “These always hit the spot.”

“How did you find this place?”

He wipes a napkin across his mouth before answering, “Years ago I did a tattoo for one of the owners during a convention and he bought us some of his food the next day for lunch. The guys and I have been stopping by here ever since.”

It’s hard not to be distracted by his bare arms, the way the sleeves of his tattoos move with every flex of his muscles. It would take you hours to examine each piece of inked artwork, but he’s already catching on to you staring at him. You break your eyes away to look off into the distance, making a mental note of the place for the future. “I’ll have to come by here again.”

He shoves the rest of his taco into his mouth, mumbling around it, “Are we gonna talk about it, or just have small talk about the food?”

You drop your eyes to your styrofoam tray of food in front of you. “Talk about what?”

He wipes his mouth and fingers clean with another paper napkin. “Ya’ know, about what happened back at the shop.”

It was naive to hope that Jake wouldn’t eventually bring it up and think it was something that could have been easily forgotten. “Nothing happened.”

He scoffs a harsh laugh, “Right. And that’s why you sulked and almost took off without saying anything?” You stay silent and take another bite while still avoiding eye contact. “Are you gonna talk to him?”

He’s putting you on the spot and you haven’t even had the chance to process your feelings about it, let alone give him any sort of thought-out answer. “About what exactly?”

“That what he did bothers you,” he says flatly before taking a bite of his second taco.

You push the helping of rice around on the tray. “How can I? Go up to him and say ‘Hey, Josh, I don’t want you to sleep with anyone else even though I’m also fucking your brother’? You do know that sounds absolutely insane, Jake?”

He agrees with an empathetic lift of his brows and shrugs his shoulders while he finishes the second taco. “Maybe.”

“And why do you care anyway?” You hiss at him with far more attitude than you realize, making him the target of your frustration. “Doesn’t that go against your own…motives?”

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth from the heat of the hot sauce before letting out an amused chuckle, “You act like I have this grand evil plan, dove. I don’t really care what’s happening between you and Josh. Now granted, I can’t say I thoroughly enjoy sharing you with him, but I do think you might be a little hard on yourself with this one.”

You finally look up, prompting him to meet your weak gaze. You study him, searching for what his true intentions in this conversation are. “I think it would just make things worse.”

Something washes over his stoic expression, making him shift his weight on the seat of the picnic table to straighten out his posture. He starts to fidget with the silver skull ring on his left ring finger, spinning it around as if he’s suddenly feeling apprehensive. “Would you be this upset if it was me instead of him?”

Was that jealousy? You watch him closely, noting the stiff, slightly-annoyed movements of hands picking up his last taco before he takes a bite. “What do you mean?”

He looks directly at you, causing the afternoon sunlight to catch his deep-brown eyes, turning them into a rich-golden toffee.“What if I was the one sleeping around with someone else?”

The question leaves your mouth before you have a chance to think it through, “Are you?!”

Just like that, you reveal a little more than you intend to. Your reaction was panicked and insecure when it should have been casual and collected. Now that he knows more about where you stand, that little smirk of his slowly forms on his lips. You can kiss the thought of getting an answer from him goodbye because unlike the phone call the other night, he’s sober at this moment. Your chance of pulling out any information that’s being locked away in that brain of his is nonexistent.

As you both finish up eating your lunch, he can’t ward off the reality that it’s time for him to take you back to the shop. However, you’re relieved to find that the second time mounting the bike is a bit more graceful than the first, and most of the nervousness you felt, in the beginning, is quickly dissipating the more time you spend with him. He must sense your comfort level because he’s now splitting between lanes of traffic and becoming a little more daring with his speed than he did initially.

From what you can remember, the ride back to the shop isn’t a long one, and regardless of whatever tension lives between the two of you, you feel safe with him. It doesn’t take long for you to sway effortlessly along with him and get a true sense of how the bike moves on the road. You fall back into your thoughts, wishing that you can feel the soft fabric of his t-shirt against your cheek instead of the helmet getting in your way or the thick material of the gloves covering your fingers. Despite your senses being restricted by the protective gear, it doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his midsection.

That secure hold on him becomes exploratory as you feel up and down his stomach, over his slender hips, and eventually lower onto his lap. When he stops at the next red light, you feel bold enough to feel across the tops of his thighs. You squeeze your legs around him even tighter than before, molding yourself against his body, and he can’t hide the change in his breathing as it’s picked up through the microphone of the intercom. You look over his shoulder to see him tapping his fingers impatiently on the clutch while your hands continue to roam over his legs. You become mesmerized by that alone, watching the tendons and muscles of his forearm move with each flex of his fingers on the clutch lever.

Through the gloves and the material of his pants, you feel something hard when you graze your hand back up his leg, which makes him groan and squirm against the seat. You bite into your smile and decide to do it again, but this time grabbing him with more purpose than before.

There’s no mistaking his erection when a low growl crackles through your earpiece. He grabs your wrist, stopping the movements of your hand on his lap while giving you the stern warning, “You better behave yourself.”

You fight against the hold he has on you, hooking your fingers around his inner thigh. Making sure to keep your voice innocent, yet bratty, you ask, “And if I don’t?”

He cocks his head to the side as if to look back at you, and you can feel his leg bouncing while you continue to rub him through his pants. You swear he’s leaning backward into your embrace, but before he can scold you or utter a single word, a car’s horn honks from behind you, startling you both.

The bike acts like it’s suddenly gained consciousness and bucks forward a few inches before the engine cuts itself off. It takes you a second to understand what’s happened until you come to realize that he’s stalled it.

“Fuck!” He curses harshly while rushing to restart the bike with the looming pressure building from the line of cars behind him. He manages to bring his motorcycle back to life easily, and the relief of finally passing through the clear intersection washes over him. “That was fucking embarrassing,” he mumbles under his breath.

Your hands find their way back to his stomach, and you give him a reassuring squeeze even if your tone is slightly patronizing. “It’s okay. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

He accepts your gesture with a giggle as he pats your hand that’s resting just above his navel. “If you do, I might have to kill you.”

Unfortunately, for the remainder of the ride, Jake proves to not be much of a conversationalist and fills the time by playing music through the helmets instead of chatting with you. You try not to let it bother you, but then you’re thrown when he pulls the bike into an open parking space in front of the shop, instead of his designated spot in the back.

You step into the shop for the second time today but with Jake by your side. You’re greeted by the same faces, but now with the addition of Josh and the woman he was tattooing when you left. She’s standing at the counter, leaning over so much that her ass sticks out, touching his arm while he works on closing out her payment.

“We should really get a drink sometime,” she offers, shamelessly making her move without caring that it’s in front of an audience.

Josh smiles, and you can see the blush pink ending the apples of his cheeks. “Yeah, maybe.”

You’re not exactly sure where this feeling is coming from. You wouldn’t consider yourself an overly jealous or confrontational type of person. But just to hear her voice, to see her reach out and touch him the way she is — it’s making you act irrationally. What you should do is remain calm, say your goodbyes to the guys, and head home for the rest of the day.

But you don’t.

That impulse that’s been simmering within yourself like an unattended pot finally boils over, causing you to take Jake’s hand in yours. There’s a powerful determination in your strides as you drag him over to the front counter. You’re the one taking the lead, using the same path he had used with you when you left the shop. It feels as though time is slowing down like you were trapped in that cliche scene of a movie. As you push past Josh and his client, you pretend he’s simply a stranger, that the chemistry and moments shared between you are figments of his imagination.

She simply scoffs and scoots out of your way while Josh freezes in place, stuck staring at you with this incredulous look of shock. His expression instantly sours with anger when Jake steps with you, but you don’t bother with an explanation as you make your way to the back hallway. You want your actions to make a point for you.

Despite his brother’s sudden change in mood, Jake doesn’t resist in the slightest as you yank him down the hall. You step into the small office with him in tow, spin dramatically on your heels, and with your hands placed firmly on his chest, you shove him against the back of the door hard enough for it to slam shut with a thud.

You’re inches away from his face, breathing heavily while your heart pounds wildly within your chest. You’ve pulled that trigger, now all that’s left is to follow through with your plan. You know it will end poorly, but his divine scent, the warmth of his body through his t-shirt, and the throaty sound of his laugh divert your attention from that fact while simultaneously causing the walls of your confidence to crumble.

“Doesn’t bother you, huh?” He asks through an airy giggle while he wraps his fingers around your wrist and looks down at you through sleepy lids with that smug, feline smile appearing on his mouth.

“Shut up.” You swallow thickly, fixating solely on his lips that he’s wetting with the tip of his tongue. You don’t give yourself the chance to overthink what’s happening before your mouth comes crashing down on him. The kiss you give him is not gentle, graceful, or even teasing. It’s walking along the lines of desperate, demanding at best as you shove your tongue into his mouth in the need to taste him.

He welcomes you with a low groan, and his hand finds your cheek to pull you in closer. Whatever this is, it’s impulsive and rushed — far from the scene he painted on that phone call. You’re both sweaty and uncomfortable from being crammed in this tiny office, but you don’t care, and neither does he, given how his tongue is sliding across yours. As he cradles your cheek, you struggle to keep your hands in one spot for longer than a second. They leave the nape of his neck to massage across his chest until they grasp onto the fabric on his t-shirt in clenched fists.

While he takes his time savoring the kiss, you’re in a frantic need, borderline clawing at the button and zipper of his jeans. You impatiently huff, “Would you just fuck me already?”

Without warning, he grabs both of your wrists, flips both of you around, and knocks you up against the door. Before you can react and utter a single word, he snatches your throat in the blink of an eye, claiming the air from your lungs. The hold he has on you is controlled, but gentle. He keeps you still, taking precious seconds to examine all the intricate details while he breathes you in. You try to watch him through your lashes, but you’re too distracted by the silver bands of his rings pressing into the soft flesh of your neck with the calculated squeeze of his fingers.

“If you want to use me to make him jealous, you better be ready for it, dove,” He croons just above a whisper, the breath of his voice fanning across your parted lips — the sound of it having the richness of freshly-pulled espresso, dark and intense.

If you’re the vixen, he’s the wolf — giving you that false sense of security while you’ve been prancing around thinking you’ve had control, that he’s softened up to you. But in reality, you’ve been distracted this entire time while he prowls that clearing, waiting for the perfect moment to change everything for you.

That addicting, devilish smile flashes before you. “Are you?”

His eyes seem to darken, pupils blown with desire as they drift down to your lips. You nod, whispering a faint, “Yes.”

If you were paying attention, you would have heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, but you didn’t. The feeling of the doorknob turning and the door being pushed open is what pulls you out of your trance.

Jake throws an open hand to the door and shoves it closed with a harsher thud than you did moments ago. He flips the lock before the other person has the chance to push it open again. When they realize this with a second attempt, they proceed to bang their fist on the other side of the door.

“Are you fucking serious?!” A muffled, angry voice calls out while giving one final push to the door.

It’s Josh.

Jake doesn’t seem bothered by the jarring interruption in the slightest, so little in fact that he starts to place kisses on your neck.

You push against his chest enough to break the contact of his lips to your skin. “He sounds mad, Jake”

He presents a cocky smile to you, but his eyes are focusing on your lips while his thumb sweeps across them. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You can’t say you were expecting Josh’s confrontation, but it makes you question your motives, and with that, guilt and worry jump on the chance to weasel their way into your mind, causing a shift in your disposition. “Yeah…but—“

He takes your chin in his hand and carefully tilts your head up so you’re looking at him directly. He looks down at you, peering through heavy lids in admiration. Now that he has your full attention, he coos with a certain assurance, “Hey, don’t get in your head about it. He’ll be pissy for a bit, but he’ll get over it.”

You scoff dramatically, breaking free from his loose grasp. He dips his head back to its place in the crook of your neck, letting out a deep sigh, “He can’t hold a grudge to save his life.” While your fingers weave into his hair, he peppers your shoulder with kisses, mumbling through each one, “Especially with you.”

You’ve been holding a breath in your chest despite the aching feeling it gives you, but you push it out the second he sinks his teeth into the flesh which sends a chill down the length of your spine. He squeezes a handful of your ass, giving himself the ability to grind himself against your hip. You groan at the feeling of his erection pressing into you, making him smile against your skin before he teases, “Besides, I believe that you’ll find ways to make it up to him.”

You lean against the door while you try to collect your thoughts. Even though you’re swimming in feelings and emotions, you’re still clear-headed enough to be irritable toward Josh. “Yeah, well, he should be finding ways to make it up to me.”

Your response makes him laugh and retreat from your neck, but only to hover his lips over yours, “There’s my girl.”

He seems pleased and releases his hand from around your throat and balances his weight on his other arm against the door. He’s hovering above you, boxing you in with his arms against the door. The touch of his lips is a blessing and a curse as he presses them into the delicate skin, that tender spot right below your ear. You’re at his mercy, and you both know it.

He pops open the button of your jeans with ease and slips his hand under the denim and the fabric of your panties. You try to spread your legs for him in the standing position, but he’d already nestled in the heat between your thighs. To your surprise, he doesn’t make you beg this time, and slips his middle finger through your folds, coating himself in the building wetness of your arousal.

“Fuck,” you moan louder than expected as you buck into the palm of his hand, grasping onto his wrist that’s half-buried in the front of your pants. You instinctively clench your legs around him, but his fingers glide over you despite the restrictions.

“Little worked up?” He pants, the heat of his breath clinging to your neck. You react by digging your nails into the flesh of his arm, but he’s already busy circling your clit with the calloused pad of his finger.

“Fuck you,” you say in a breathy sigh, but the insult is as empty as your mind is right now. The only thought existing in the brain fog is your need to satiate the craving for him, and you’ve decided you’re not leaving until you do.

He repositions slightly, pinning you firmly against the door as he braces himself. He hums and gives a nip to your jaw “Oh don’t worry, dove. You’ll get to.”

He adds his index finger, flicking the bundle of nerves with the lightest of touches.

You whine out, and your legs start to shake in fatigue from holding yourself against the door. He rolls his hips against you in search of friction, giving away that he’s been wanting this just as badly. “You been thinking about me, dove? Playing with this pretty little cunt pretending it’s me doing it?”

You whimper an incoherent answer. He slips his middle finger through your slick until it's right at your entrance. Even he’s surprised with how easily his finger glides inside you. ‘Fuck, you’re so wet. Did the bike feel good, sweetheart?” He curls it inside while his thumb works your clit, working off the reactions of your body beneath him. “He can’t do that for you, can he?”

He could be speaking an entirely different language to you and it wouldn’t matter at this moment. Every word from his mouth sounds more distorted than the last as that heat builds between your trembling legs. With how close you are, you can only writhe and claw at his arm, responding to him with pathetic whimpers and moans.

He adds a second finger, stretching you out that much more, and starts to pump them inside you with however much your jeans allow. “You know he’s out there right now. Wishing he could fuck you…feel you like this.”

You cry out his name and you put no effort in keeping your voice low and quiet. You’ve been holding onto him this entire time, and now you have most of his t\shirt balled in your fists to ground yourself to him. He’s intertwined with you, rocking his waist with yours as you climb to the tipping point of your release. He’s so close that the bridge of his nose is digging into the side of your cheek, but you can’t be bothered to care about the sting the pressure causes. You want it, you need him to lose himself with you.

You’re rapidly approaching your peak, and there’s no question that he can feel you tighten and flutter around him. He pushes a growl from his throat against the shell of your ear, “There you go, give it all to me. I know you’re close, dove.” He drags his swollen lips down the column of your neck while his fingers sweep that special spot inside you. “She needs me so badly.”

As if he’s yanked the threads of your composure with the simple demand, you unravel completely. He holds you tightly, riding the waves of your orgasm as you shake uncontrollably against his hand.

After giving you a minute to come down from your high, he pulls his hand from your jeans and rests it on your hip while he catches his breath. You release your hold on the back of his shirt and let your fingers wander down the length of his body until you find what you’re searching for. You’re pleased to know that he’s still just as hard as he was, throbbing away against your palm.

You take the initiative by grabbing his hips and sliding down with your back to the door until you’re balanced on your knees. Your confidence always falters when you see him, but you can’t resist the temptation to look up.

The image of him above you takes your breath away. You watch his chest heave with every breath pushing past his parted lips while he braces his weight against the door on an extended arm. His long hair has come loose from his bun and is now falling around his face, some of it even clinging to the sweat that has collected on his cheeks and forehead. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, but his surprise shows on his raised brows when he sees your hands meet at the button of his pants.

You watch him process what’s about to happen and the absentminded lick across his lips before they spread wide into a full grin. He brings his other hand to rest on the crown of your head before his fingers slip through your hair.

The way his dull nails scratch across your scalp is almost enough to distract you, but you’re determined. You make quick work of his button and zipper, opening the front of his pants enough so you can pull his cock free. The noise he makes the second you have him in your hand is a sound you wish you could replay forever. He’s heavy and thick in your grasp — his skin is hot to the touch, tacky against your fingers as you slowly stroke him.

He suddenly tugs at your hair by the roots, yanking your attention back up to him. “Just know you’re not fooling me, sweetheart.” The stinging sensation with the authority in his voice makes you ache for him even more. He relaxes his grip on your hair for a more affectionate touch, one that one might use for a pet. “Acting all innocent…but here you are hungry for my cock like the pretty little whore you are.”

You squeeze your fingers around the base, making him hum from your choice of answer. You wish you had all the time in the world to tease him, to edge him slowly until he is the one begging. You don’t. Since you’re on borrowed time as it is, you bring him to your lips and lick around the head of his cock before gliding him over your flattened tongue. He shudders at the warm, wet feeling, and his fingers curl involuntarily against your scalp.

You quickly find your rhythm, bobbing on him while you use your hand for what your lips can’t reach. The saltiness of his sweat lingers on your tongue and the natural scent of his body floods your mind — adding to the impulsiveness of your decisions. His splayed fingers slide to the back of your head so he can push himself even deeper. You take him without complaint, letting his cock hit the back of your throat.

You gag around him almost instantly, so forcefully that you have to pull away with just a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock. The tears welling in your eyes have clouded your vision, but you hear him hum in approval, “That’s it, baby girl.”

Acting on his praise, you wrap your lips around him once again. Your movements and techniques are sloppy and uncoordinated, but you find that only seems to turn him on even more. The messier you are with his cock in your mouth and the more depraved you look on your knees, the closer he gets.

Through your wet lashes, you see that his eyes are clamped shut in what looks like a grimace of pain, but you know that it’s far from it. You also note how his mouth hangs open while tiny moans and whispered curses escape freely. He’s somewhere else in his mind, fighting the temptation to let go completely into the back of your throat. He’s been allowing you to take the lead as long as he can, but he’s losing the battle of self-control and gives in by pressing the heel of his palm to your forehead and guiding your head to the back of the door.

He finally takes that control, and with each thrust into your mouth, he pushes the back of your head into the wood just a bit more. The act isn’t painful, but it’s far from comfortable. You’re greedy for the praise, for the lewd sounds he makes, for the reactions of his body from how good you feel. You want to keep going but the muscles of your legs are starting to strain with fatigue and your jaw is starting to ache past the point of being bearable.

You reach up to tap his hand and he instantly releases his grip on your hair and withdraws himself from your mouth. If you were him, you would see your makeup has smeared down your cheeks, your red, swollen lips and chin glistening with your drool, and that glazed, already fucked-out look in your eyes.

“Jake,” you try to speak, but his name barely comes out as a hoarse whisper.

He just stares at you with a blank expression on his face, and for a second you worry that he didn’t hear you until he eventually mumbles out, “Huh?”

“I need you.”

He nods and reaches down to hook his hands under your arms, helping you up off the floor. You don’t have to balance your weight for long because he spins you both again and guides you to the desk behind you. In one fluid motion, he tugs your jeans and underwear down your legs and lifts you onto the top of the desk.

He hooks his hands around the backs of your knees and pulls you forward to the very edge before wrapping your legs around his waist. Everything is happening faster than you can process, but what you can do is bring his lips to yours for a kiss.

With his cock in hand, he glides himself through your folds to coat himself in your arousal. He holds himself at your entrance, waiting for your permission and the anticipation nearly kills you, but all he wants is to hear how badly you need it.

“Jake…please.” Your desperate plea tumbles into his mouth through your kiss.

He smiles against your lips as he rolls his hips forward, nudging the head of his cock into your waiting cunt. He pulls himself out, only to push all the way to the hilt in a single thrust. However, he’s not done dragging this out, because now that he’s fully inside you, right where you want him to be, he slowly withdraws — so slowly that it’s borderline torture.

While you groan in protest, he’s looking down, watching you tense and tighten around his cock in hopes of keeping him close. “Fuck, you take me so well,” He grunts before snapping his hips forward, and because you’ve adjusted to his size, he glides back into you with ease.

As much as you love the idea of him watching himself fuck you, you need him close. You bring him flush against you with your legs locked around him in a vice-grip hold. He stalls his movements, but he makes up for it by sweeping the hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear so he can whisper, “You look prettier with me inside you.”

The thought of arguing with him on that fact crosses your mind, but this is where his sweet affection ends. He’s done with the sensual teasing and decides to set a very different pace for himself. You make the note to consider yourself lucky up until this point, because now you’re struggling to keep your sounds discreet.

A forceful thrust of his cock against your cervix causes a yelp to break free and his hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries. He chuckles with a shake of his head, but it's lazy and breathy while he continues to fuck you, “You gotta be quiet. There are still people here.”

His hands have been everywhere on you — around the nape of your neck, on your hips, across your back, and almost every inch of your legs. He settles on your throat once more, but this time making the point to squeeze his fingers into the flesh. “Whose pussy is this? Hmm? Tell me.”

You’re becoming more light-headed by the second, but you’re eager to give him the answer he desires, “Yours.”

While he’s been just shy of being rough with you, his rhythm slows enough so he can ask, “Who? I don’t think I heard a name, dove.”

“Yours, Jake! Yours!”

Satisfied with your answer, he lets go of your neck to brush his knuckles along your jaw. “That’s right. Good girl.” Hearing him calling you ‘good girl’ will never cease to make you melt, so there’s nothing that can stop you from letting your head fall against his. “Don’t forget that she’s mine.”

The slip of his possessiveness only fuels your desire. It should have you running the other direction, but here you are wanting him to claim you — to take what he deems rightfully his.

His thrusts give him away before his words do. His panting breath fans across your cheek with every exhale, “I’m so close. How bad do you want it?”

You know exactly what he means, and you don’t hesitate to beg him for it, “Bad. Pl-please, Jake. Come inside me, please.”

The sweet, pitchy sound of your request causes him to falter. “Oh fuck, baby. You want me to fill you up?” The words are broken up between thrusts and the sharp inhale of breath through clenched teeth. “Mark her as mine?”

While he’s been holding out as long as he could, the final few pumps buried deep inside you force him to succumb to his release. He gives you what you’re so desperate for — the addicting warmth of his cum filling you with every heavy pulse and twitch of his cock.

He stays perfectly still wrapped in your embrace to soak up the moment and take in the feeling of your pussy spasming around his softening cock. You’re not sure how much time passes until he slides out of you and tucks himself back into his pants while admiring the mess he’s left between your legs.“What a beautiful sight.”

Just when you think it’s all over, his fingers dance along your inner thigh. “How’s it feel? Me dripping out of you like this?”

You’re not sure what to say. If you were coherent in any capacity, you still might not have anything to say.

He gladly accepts your listless state and the silence as the best answer. He rolls his thumb over your swollen, over-stimulated clit that’s covered in his cum, making you squirm from the touch. He clicks his tongue, but doesn’t pull his hand away, “She can’t even hold it all in, poor thing.”

You say his name again as a warning, but in reality, it’s a weak lie. If it was up to you, he would never stop touching you if you could help it. You just can’t say you expected him to shove his fingers inside you again.

It’s only for a brief moment and then they are gone, leaving you empty. You stare at him in pure disbelief as he brings those same, wet fingers to his mouth and wipes them across his tongue. He leans forward to kiss you, making sure to share whatever he licked off. “Taste that? That’s us and don’t you ever fucking forget it.”

You’re left speechless, and when he realizes you won’t answer him, he asks a follow-up question with more deliberation, “Do you understand me?”

You nod despite your sweaty face sticking to the side of his. “Yes, Jake.”

He hums to himself, “I had a feeling you were going to be a good listener.”

TAGLIST:

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fineprintedsunsets · 7 months

Text

curiosity killed comforts the cat

【 Synopsis: Curiosity was never supposed to comfort the cat 】

Word Count ꨄ︎ 1.2k

Warnings ꨄ︎ TATTOO TRACINGGGGG. skin tracing. soft negan. platonic comfort. (regardless of negan saying kiddo reader is 18) age gap obvi. IM IN MY NEGAN ERA YOOOOO. Fwuff (fluff).

Negan's Master-List

"So Trace The Lines Of My Tattoos, Whisper That You Love Me Too"

This morning wasn’t going well, it was the type of morning you just want to run away from. To bury yourself deep in the blankets of your bed and hide from it all.

Unfortunately, there’s work to be done.

Which included giving a certain Alexandrian prisoner his breakfast. Why you were in charge of this particular task was a question you couldn’t answer, but nonetheless, it had to be done.

You walked into his holding place, letting the door slam behind you, a large frown on your face. It was hard not to cry. You kept replaying this morning's events, how you had been embarrassed when you weren’t allowed on a run, or when Michone had yelled at you for forgetting to clean your room.

It was the littlest things that made you so upset, and those were just two events that took place out of your shit-hole morning. You can see Negan sitting against the bars, reading a book he doesn’t even look mildly interested in.

You place the tray of food down next to the small opening in the bars. You can’t order him to eat, you are afraid if you open your mouth you’ll break into tears. Negan closes his book with a coy smile, looking down at the plate of food.

Like his book, he doesn’t look interested.

“Thanks, kid.”

You don’t look at him, you just nod once, careful to keep your tear-stained face out of his view. The sound of a book gliding across the floor echoes throughout the small room. You turn to leave, heading straight for the door just a few inches ahead of you.

Negan’s gruff voice stops you right in your footsteps, making the hair stand from the back of your neck. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

How did he know?

“Nothing.”

Your voice quivers despite it all, even as you try to keep it neutral. The events are evading your mind again, making you relive your morning. “I may be in a cell, but I sure as shit know how someone acts when they're upset. It used to be a full-time job.”

You shudder but turn around regardless. You’d never thought you’d be this desperate for comfort you’d take it from Negan, but so far everyone seems like they despise you. Like they hate your existence and your only purpose is to make things difficult.

Negan’s deep voice cuts through the air, his fingers hitting his rusted cell bars. “Sit, tell me. I’ma guessing dear old Dad doesn’t care to listen?”

“Don’t you have enough problems?”

He scoffs, chuckling a little. “The only thing I have to worry about is whether one of those assholes is gonna remember to feed me or not.”

You turn around, keeping your eyes glued to the floor, avoiding Negan’s gaze as you come to a halt next to him. Before you can stop, your body is sliding down the wall, sitting on the opposite side of the bars.

You can feel the cold metal biting into the side of your hamstring as you lean up against them, in the same exact position Negan’s in. One leg out, one knee bent. You can feel his stare cut through the holes of his confinement, even as you refuse to meet it.

“Start talking.” The demand is so thorough it should have been cold, but somehow it holds no expectations. Like if you wanted to just sit in silence next to him, he wouldn’t mind.

You twiddle your thumbs as you attempt to find the right words. The reality of this situation hasn’t dawned on you yet, you are about to tell your problems to a prisoner. One’s that he may very well use against you.

“I feel lost, not empty…but-” You can feel the tears threatening to resurface again, but you keep them down, focusing on the cold ground of the concrete room, the feeling of skin sliding against skin as you twirl your fingers.

“It’s like I'm living just to live. You know? Like the world is one big movie and I’m watching myself participate in it.” You look at the floor, counting the cracks running through it as your voice breaks. You can hear the sound of Negan’s attentive breathing, and the thrum of his heartbeat as he listens.

“It feels like I’m a burden like no one wants me around. I’ve been yelled over and over again. All for little things too-” You take your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. Your heart is cracking as you say the words, and your voice is filled with uncertainty.

“It shouldn’t affect me as much as it does. The little side comments or weird glances. But it does, it ruins my-” And here come the tears. The one thing you hoped to avoid during this interaction.

You feel the wetness, and before you know it, it becomes a proverbial puddle of emotions. All stirring inside of you. “Hey, Hey.” Negan’s voice is softer now, a tone low and almost caring.

You ignore him though, in your mind your replaying those same events again. Walking through your morning like one would a DVD, fast forwarding and replaying, pausing ever so often to zoom in. You feel the tears gather in your eyes, and then your breathing stops.

You feel a pulse underneath your fingertips. Your fingers are being moved by someone else's, skating along a muscled forearm. Your pulled out of your auto-biography, as you watch what’s happening. Both of Negan’s arms are protruding from the metal bars.

His left is expanded in front of you, and his right has your fingers clasped in his as he drags your digits across a tattoo in the shape of a cross, whispering little things, almost to himself.

“That’s it”

“There you go, kiddo.”

“Breathe, relax.”

Once he sees he’s grabbed your attention, he lets go of your fingers, but you keep tracing the tattoo, running them up the faded ink, tracing its forgotten details. You love the way he groans just a little at your touch, a shiver coursing through his body.

It calms you, the simple act of going around in that t-shape over and over again, letting the tears fall freely now, not ashamed. Negan keeps his arm through the bars, letting you get lost in his other ink portraits.

However, he can see your chest still rising rapidly, and the soft sniffles of your crying. “Kiddo. Please. I need you to breathe.” He begs, and for some reason, you listen.

“Count with me, yeah?”

You nod slightly, focusing on another tattoo, this one is in the shape of a coffin. You trace the front line and then follow the other awkward diagonals. You breathe in once when you fully trace it and release the pent-up oxygen when you trace it again.

“One,” You both say in unison.

You continue to draw invisible lines across Negan’s skin for what feels like hours until your breath slows and your tears stop. You felt better, dare you say. The dull ache in your chest has vanished completely.

“Care to pass me that tray?”

“What-” You realize Negan’s pointing at his breakfast tray, and so you do, a little confused. He pulls his arm away from you to pull it to him. You start to stand, seeing this interaction is done with.

“Where you going? Sit down.” He demands as he props up the tray on his lap.

You dust off your jeans, “Why?”

“One of those assholes fed me today, figured I share it with someone.”

You chuckle lightly, smiling for the first time in a while. As you wipe away the dampness from your red cheeks, it’s hard not to miss the way Negan smiles to as you finally meet his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah”.

#fanfic #masterlist #oneshot #fluff #the walking dead negan #twd negan #negan x reader #negan smith #negan fluff #twd #the walking dead #walking dead

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augustghosts · 2 years

Text

1987 - Eddie Munson

My take on Eddie surviving and every month of the first year of him living the life he deserved.

Warnings: Minors DNI. Female reader. Gets a lil 18+ a few times. There's smut in two of the months. I guess this is angsty? depending on how you measure angst lmao. This is basically just disgustingly domestic and fluffy shit because I think Eddie deserved it. Mention of babies and marriage. Smoking is mentioned like every month lmao. Mentions of anxiety/not feeling loved.

word count: 5.8k

Part Two: 1988

January 1987. Cold, rain hitting the windows creating the perfect soundtrack to the day. Eddie, unpacking boxes on the other side of the room. A cigarette between his lips as he rummaged through his belongings. She watched, her eyes skimming over the scars on his arms.

“You’re too young.” Her mothers voice replayed in her mind as she surveyed the contents of their new apartment. Wayne had been supportive. As always. He had even helped them move, helped them pack and hugged them both tightly before they left. Reminding them to call. The two of them had planned for months on how to tell everyone that they were packing up and leaving Hawkins behind for good. In the end, they hadn't told anyone else. They wouldn’t have understood. Perhaps rude of them, practically running away from their friends and their lives. Eddie was effervescent. Bouncing around the apartment and planning how they were going to decorate. Stacking books, talking about how he was going to put those shelves up- he just needed to read the instructions. The freedom and change of scenery already affected him. He was excited, something she hadn’t seen for months.

He had even taken to putting out her scented candles for her, lighting multiple of them at the same time.

“You can’t do that, Ed’s.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because they’re different scents! They’re all unique. You can’t light multiple different ones at the same time.”

Laughter between them, for the first time in a while. Time had frozen after the incident and Eddie’s time in hospital. He was so different now. Her wonderfully moody and brooding highschool boyfriend was prancing around their own apartment, in a brand new city, lighting candles, stacking books and playing his records as loud as he liked. Such a change from how his entire life had been up until this point.

February. Sitting on the couch, him sitting between her legs on the floor, guitar in his hands and her fingers in his hair. He paused his fingers, turning to look out the window. Sighing at the feeling of her nails on his scalp.

“Fuck. This is crazy.” He mumbled. “We're like sophisticated adults now. We have a couch and a bed frame and shit.”

They had just bought one. Their first month spent sleeping on a mattress on the floor, reminiscent of all their years spent in Eddie’s trailer park bedroom. She smiles as he continues to list things; We have jobs and pay bills and stuff. We may as well have a baby and a dog.

They had been a strange couple at school. Fire and water. Who would have thought they would be here right now. Sitting on their own couch talking about babies and paying bills.

“I would prefer a cat.” She answered. “Also we need a TV.”

“Yeah. We can go look at TV’s tomorrow. I need a car as well.”

She just hummed in response, absentmindedly braiding his hair. He turned to look at her expectantly.

“What?” She laughed, searching his big brown eyes.

“What about the baby thing?” He asked, quietly. Almost as if he was ashamed. “Would you want that?”

“Sure. One day.” She didn’t hesitate. Of course she had thought about it. Thinking about a little baby with Eddie’s eyes made her heart feel like it was seconds away from being ripped out of her chest. Those dark eyes now fixed on hers. Slow movements his acoustic guitar now placed gently on the floor in front of him. A conflicted look on his face, as if he wanted to say something. Her fingers reach for his flushed cheeks - encouraging.

A low murmur, “We should. One day.” Mimicking her words, he looks back towards the window. “I’d like that, I think.”

“You think?” She joked. He turned to her again, smiling this time.

“Maybe we should start off with that cat.” He spoke. Rising up off of the floor to climb on top of her on her couch. A smile against her lips. “And then we’ll get married. No wedding, just me and you and some rings.”

“And the cats. We need witnesses, I think.” She whispered, pulling away from his lips to kiss his cheekbone. He laughed loudly, pulling forwards to find her lips again.

“Yeah, and the cats. And then we’ll have a baby. If the cats survive.” He stood up suddenly, before she could question why the cats wouldn’t survive.

“Now, come on.” He held his hand out to her. “I wanna go test out the new bed frame.”

March. Cold air and the smell of cigarettes, which she usually woke up too. A routine. He likes to wake up and smoke, and he also likes to keep the window open all night. Typical Eddie things that she had lived with for years. How long he spent out on the small balcony depending on the mood he woke up in and how long he had slept, if he even slept at all. She watched him from the bed. His beauty is always devastating her, especially in the mornings. She never used to be able to watch him. He used to go out and sit on the porch when he lived in the trailer. She craved it now, just watching him doing normal things. Familiar things. She never took watchung him for granted, not anymore.

He loved having the balcony. His own escape, the sounds of the city. Sometimes he took his guitar out there. Sometimes he would just sit and stare. “Just thinking, baby.” She never asked what about. Sometimes he would write. Lyrics, she guessed. He never showed her what he was doing. She knew he missed his friends. His band, D&D. He spoke to them regularly, but she guessed phone calls were nowhere near the same as band practice and hellfire. Her heart broke for him, leaving Hawkins was the best thing for him. But he had left so much behind.

She usually never liked to disturb him out there. But this morning, he was watching her. Already anticipating her coming out to join him when he was her rise from the mattress and pull on one of his shirts. He knew she had noticed his low mood recently.

“Morning.” He smiled up at her. Beautiful, he thought. Always.

“Are you okay?” She asked. A new habit of hers. Always asking, always checking up on him.

“Yeah, I'm good.” He reached for the pack of cigarettes, holding it out to her offering her one. Passing her his lighter after she took one. Smoking - a habit she had picked up from him all those years ago in highschool. When they would skip classes to smoke together. An excuse to spend as much time together as possible as they hurtled towards an unknown future.

“Did I wake you?” He always asked.

“No.” She smiled, softly. Looking him over. He leaned forward, grasping the metal arms of the chair she had sat down on and pulling. A horrible squeak as he dragged her towards him, their knees touching.

“Fucking hell!” She giggled, “You didn’t wake me, but you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood doing that.”

He laughed with her, putting his cigarette out and resting his hands on her knees, running them up to her thighs. Titling his head up to seek out her lips. His cold, hers warms. The taste of each other - so familiar now.

“I love you.” She whispered. Foreheads touching. Three words - he knew what she meant. I’m here. It’s going to be okay.

“I love you too.” He responds, and she knows what he’s saying. I know. Thank you.

He leans back. Caressing her cheek before standing up. “I’m hungry.” He announces. Changing the subject. But that’s okay. He would speak to her when he was ready. Sometimes it took a while, but he always did. She just had to wait. She stood with him, the cigarette still in her hand. Her arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him tightly. The sounds of the city and her skin on his - quieting his mind. He was loved.

April. Eddie hated nights like these. She was back in Hawkins. Family emergency, Eddie couldn’t go. Not if they wanted to be able to afford their rent this month, he had to keep working. It was almost 2am. She had been gone for two days, coming home tomorrow. He couldn’t sleep until he knew where she was. Until she was home. The shrill ringing of their phone interrupted his thoughts. He jumped up, practically running to the wall and answering with a “Babe?” Not thinking ahead at how embarrassing it would be if it wasn’t her on the other side.

“Hey, honey! Are you okay?” Her usual question. Kind of slurred this time - tiredness.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Reassurance. “Are you? Where are you?”

“Back in my room.” She was staying at a hotel. She couldn’t cut staying with her mother.

“I can't wait to see you. I fucking miss you.” He mumbled.

“I’ve been gone for two days. Ed’s.” He could hear her smile. Could picture it on her face.

“So? Is there a time limit on how long you need to be gone before I'm allowed to miss you?”

“No. No, I miss you too.” She laughed on the other end. Fuck, he missed it. He gasped dramatically when she added: “I miss you more.”

“Impossible. Literally impossible. There is no universe where that’s possible.” He joked. “Legally, I'm allowed to miss you more because I'm here on my own. You’re surrounded by people.”

“Surrounded by people? My grieving family, who are already pissed at me for practically running away with you, aren't exactly great company Ed’s. I’m surprised that they even invited me.” She sighed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you today.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked. If she had been in the same room as him, she would have seen him raise his eyebrows.

‘Not like that!” Just, you know, in general.” She giggled.

“Not like that? That’s a shame because I've been thinking about you like that.” His voice lowered. Just the way she liked. “My hand has been having a workout of its own.”

“Eddie! I’m-”

He cut her off with a “What are you wearing?”

“Eddie, it's late.” She was still laughing. He smiled.

“And? Did I miss the psa about appropriate times to dirty talk over the phone or something?”

“You can wait. I’ll give you what you want when I get home tomorrow.”

“Yeah? Whatever I want?”

“I never said that.” - More laughter. Something he couldn’t wait to share again in person.

May. The sun had gone down. Moon high in the sky. Stars scattered. She usually loves the night sky. Would drag Eddie out onto the balcony to watch the stars.

“What the fuck am i looking at? The stars? What are they doing? I’m not seeing anything.”

But right now, the stars, the moon, the sun and whatever else was up in the sky all felt aligned as she lay underneath him again. They didn’t get to see much of each other the day she came back. Eddie had to work and she was asleep by the time he got home. He didn’t have the heart to wake her up, never did. The blinds hadn’t even been pulled down, any neighbours that happen to look out their window late at night might just get an excellent view. Heated kisses. Eddie’s records. Cheap wine. Bottle discarded long ago. She was finally underneath him again, pressed against the cool sheets. Forgetting anything that existed outside the room. His torso pressed against hers, his cold fingers exploring the skin around her hips. Squeezing, feeling. A groan left his mouth as her nails dug into his jaw. Desperate sounds echoing from his mouth to hers.

“I missed you, baby.” He mumbles against her lips as her hands tangle in his hair, something she always complimented. Although he had many, many beautiful features. His hair seemed to be her favourite. The place her hands always retreated too, his stomach flutters as she tugs on it.

“You already said that.” Her mouth leaves his as she leans up to press her lips to the sensitive skin on his neck.

“I’m gonna say it a thousand times.” It was so easy for him to turn to putty in her hands. It always has been. She had always been able to make him melt like no one else ever could. She sighs against his warm skin as he runs his hands over the swell of her breast, pinching her nipples lightly between his fingers. Squeezing as his mouth searched for hers again.

Soon, he's kissing down her bare torso, clothes already discarded the moment they had reached the bottom of the wine bottle. He presses a kiss to her clothed cunt before pulling the garment down her legs, pressing kisses to her thighs.

“Fuck, you look so good.” He practically whines, planting hot, open mouth kisses to her thighs with every word. He runs his hands all over her thighs, squeezing and grazing. He sinks his teeth into her skin, smiling over the mark when a soft moan leaves her. “That’ll leave a mark.” He jokes.

“Ed’s, please.” She tries to reach for his hair, direct him to where she's needed him most for the past two days. Usually he would tease her. Whisper a “What? What do you need, baby?” He loved making her say it. Loved the way her skin would heat up as she whispered it. But this time, he blows lightly on her pussy, earning a shivering gasp. He holds her legs apart and hums softly before he dives in. He slides her legs over his shoulders so that he can use his thumbs to hold her lips apart. His warm, wet tongue working over her clit. She groans, his name breathlessly leaving her mouth. Her head digging into the pillow underneath it.

June. Eddie grumbled, slightly shaking his head. Her, trying to find the right angle. Using one hand to try and hold him still. “Stay still, idiot. You wanted this.”

“It’s in my eyes.” He mumbles. Their newest addition, a small orange tabby cat, sitting on Eddie’s lap. Making it even harder for him to move. He was shirtless, sweatpants on his hips - perched on one of their kitchen stools, and she stood behind him. Pair of scissors in hand. She let go of his head, jokingly calling him a baby and repeating for the hundredth time: Stay still.

“What the fuck is taking you so long? You’re only meant to be trimming it. You haven’t fucked it up have you?”

“It wouldn’t have taken this long if you just sat still.” Softly yanking this hair as she added the finishing touches. A dramatic ow leaving his lips. “Alright, I'm done. I’m done.”

She walks around to the front of him and he gazes up at her. His big brown eyes searched her face.

“How do I look?” He asks.

“Exactly the same as before,” She laughs, “Just a bit shorter.”

“Good.” He grumbles, “That’s exactly what I wanted.” He reaches for her as she places the scissors down. Pulling her between his legs and hugging her tight. His damp hair pressing into her shirt. The cat, still unnamed, jumps to the ground. Almost as if it was annoyed at its parents' affection, just like any other kid.

“Do you think this is a little too domestic?” He whispers. His head resting on her chest. Her fingers running through his curls.

“Ed’s, we've lived together for six months and we just adopted a cat. I don’t think we could get any more domestic. A haircut is nothing.” She smiles down at him. He feels his heart clench at the pure love he sees in her eyes.

“I never thought I would be like this, you know.”

“Like what?” She asks. Although, she thinks she knows. But she wants him to open up.

“This. Outside of hawkins. My own place, a job. Living with someone like you. Someone who..” He hesitates. Putting his head back down onto her chest. “Someone who loves me.”

She smiles tearily. He knew he was loved. Her, Wayne. But it had always been hard for him to acknowledge it. Especially out loud. “Damn, me cutting your hair made you all sappy like this?” She jokes. If they stayed on the subject too long he would close back up again. He would leave the room and go find something else to do and dwell on it. He said it, and that's all that matters. That he knows.

“Shut the fuck up.” He laughs, playfully pushing her away before pulling her back again. She cups his face, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs. A quick, soft kiss pressed to his warm lips. His arms tighten around her waist.

“I love you so much.” She whispers against his mouth.

“I know,” He whispers back, “I love you too.”

They kiss again. Silence filtering between them for a moment before Eddie straightens up. Pressing a kiss to her cheek before standing up and asking.

“Where the fuck did that cat go? He better not be eating something.”

July. 3am. Too warm. Eddie, still asleep soundly. The cat, that they had decided to literally name Kat after endless hours of arguments over names, curled up beside him. Eddie insisted that the K made a difference and would distract from the fact that they just couldn’t think of a name for their own child. Ridiculous. She likes watching him sleep, as creepy as it sounded. He looked peaceful. One of the only times his busy mind was shut off.

She tried to untangle from him without disturbing either of them. A twitch and a sigh from him. An identical sigh from Kat, snuggling closer to her dad as he moved. Both are still asleep. He hates sleeping alone, he always had. Back in Hawkins, in high school - she remembers him begging her to stay with him on school nights. Him watching her as she pulled her clothes back on, cigarette in his mouth. His hands outstretched. Come on baby, don’t leave me here all alone in this big ol’ trailer. Stay and cuddle. He never used to sleep much. When they had first met, he always showed up late to school looking tired. She even used to wait until he fell asleep before her - sometimes she still did. Especially after the incident. A brief image flashing in her mind as she got a glimpse of the scars on his shoulders.

In the kitchen, soft light floods the counters when she flicks the switch. Her fingers found a glass by the sink and filled it up. A pack of cigarettes on the counter catches her eye - picks that up too. Lighting it once it was between her lips. The lights flicker and buzz as she stares out the window. Her name being called quietly startles her. Eddie in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he yawns.

“Are you alright?” He asks. His voice was deep with sleep. She figured since he was here, Kat wouldn't be far behind.

“Yeah.” She smiles, “Are you?”

He nods. As predicted, their furry orange child pads in and almost comically mimics Eddie in the doorway. Standing beside him and staring up at her in the same way he was.

“Come back.'' He says, holding out his hand. He just looks so cute, waiting for her to set the glass down and take his hand, that she does.

“It’s too hot to sleep.” She says, despite letting him drag her back to their bedroom.

“I can help you.” He mumbles. He made sure to push the window open fully and give the balcony door a small kick, swinging it open, before pulling her back down into the sheets and holding her close. Kat inevitably follows and tries to fit into the equation. It’s quiet for a bit. Nothing but breathing, purring and cars outside.

“Do you ever think about going back to Hawkins?” Her soft voice broke the silence. Eddie sighs in the darkness. He could tell something had been on her mind recently.

“No,” He answers flatly. “Why? Do you?”

“No.” She mumbles into his chest.

“Okay. So go back to sleep.” He rubs her back. Closing his eyes again, snapping them open when she asks. “I thought you were going to help me?” The smirk on her face was hidden by the early morning darkness in the bedroom.

“I won’t just help you,” He whispers, pinching her hip. “I’ll make you.”

“Come on, then.” All he needed to hear. He pulled away from her, lying flat on his back and patted his thighs. She took the hint and climbed to straddle him, giggling as he gripped her hips and let his other hand fly to the back of her head and pull her down for a kiss. Earning him a whimper against his pink lips and an ache between her legs. Half an hour later Kat had been shuffled out of the room and had the bedroom door closed in his face. Something they would apologise for later. But now - “God, Ed’s.” She cried softly, back arching off the mattress. Chests touched as he held himself up on top of her, thrusting into her slowly - teasingly. Her legs pinned against her chest by one of his hands, her hips propped up by a pillow underneath, her arousal dripping down onto the fitted sheet on the mattress, something she would be pissed about soon when she had to change them at 4 o’clock in the morning. His hand coming to wrap softly around her throat, something that kind of seemed so aggressive compared to how lovingly he was fucking her right now. He used his grip on her soft throat to bring her lips to his.

“Be a good girl and come around my cock, baby.” He whispered into her mouth. She was already close, he could feel her thighs shaking. His own reserve was breaking as well. The mixture of the early morning rush outside, their poor child meowing at the door and their shared moans echoed through the flat as the sun rose outside. They didn’t need Hawkins, she concluded.

August. Familiar, usual routine. Her being awoken by cigarette smoke drifting into the bedroom from the balcony. Eddie out there as usual, staring out into the city. She glanced at the clock, 11am. He had probably been awake for a while, had probably had a few out there already. He had told her once that he had started smoking at 11. That he would steal them from his dad and walk around town smoking them and selling them to his friends. She had started smoking when she met him. Something he ended up hating. When they were teenagers he thought it was fun, when she told him she wanted to try and he let her and now he had a smoking partner and someone to skip classes with.

After scooping up Eddie’s shirt from the floor and slipping it on she creeps out behind him. Reaching for the pack of cigarettes on his lap and ruffling his hair before sitting on her own seat. The empty mug on the table telling her he'd been up long enough.

“Were you up early?” She asks him, words muffled as she tries a few times to light the stick in her mouth.

“No,” He looked at her for the first time, “Bout’ two hours ago.” She notices his notebook on his lap. She hums in response.

“Didn’t make me one?” She jokes, pointing to the empty mug on the table.

“Didn’t wanna wake you.”

They had a weird night last night. A small argument breaking out between them. Eddie sleeping on the sofa and eventually comes to bed a few hours later, pulling her close and going to sleep without a word.

“I’m gonna get in the shower.” He says, standing up and picking up his mug. He watches her, hoping she’ll stop him. Hoping she will hold his hand and say we need to talk and then they’ll both apologise and he can kiss her and she’ll tell him that everything is okay. But he doesn’t. She gives him an ‘okay’ and takes another drag of her cigarette. He sighs and leaves.

Sometimes, Eddie feels like showers wash away negative feelings. He likes to get in the shower when things go wrong. A weird kind of escape from his creeping doubt. A locked door and the loud sound of water hitting the tiles seems to block everything else out. A way to forget the words he blurts out sometimes.

She sits on the balcony and listens. She hears the shower turn on, while he’s in there she listens to the city sounds, and she listens to him moving around the bedroom when the shower turns off. Both of them are horribly stubborn, she wonders who will break first. It ends up being him. By the time he’s out of the shower she’s in the kitchen making her own coffee. Using the same mug he had just washed. He comes up behind her and wraps her so tight in his arms she almost has to tell him to stop. He stands there for a moment, breathing. He whispers an ‘i’m sorry’ into her hair and she sighs. She wants to tell him he doesn’t have to be but he starts speaking before she can.

He tells about his dreams, or rather his nightmares. He tells her about the ghosts and the bats and the blood on his hands. About how he hears the way she screamed for him when she thought he was dead, how he hears it over and over again whenever he closes his eyes. She wants to tell him she understands and that she dreams too. That she sees him covered in bites and blood hears him screaming and sometimes it jolts her awake as well. But she lets him keep speaking. When he finishes, the hug in the kitchen. The smell of coffee and his shampoo. She tells him she loves him. He says I know. She finally tells him what he wanted to hear.

Everything is okay, Ed’s.

September. Eddie is on the floor, shirtless. Her on the bed. Their clothes are in two piles at the end and the side of the bed. Earlier activities, memories of impatient hands and lips. Both of them were slightly tired - afterglow. Purples and reds, marks on skin. Candles illuminating the room, dark on the streets. Kat is curled up on Eddie’s lap, his legs outstretched, as usual.

Eddie always looked beautiful in candle light. Something she had told him a million times, something he had laughed at a million times. Sap, He’d say.

He’s holding her ankle against his chest, her legs hanging off the bed. A sewing needle and some ink that he insisted was safe because he had done it before. An E being poked into the skin on her foot one dot at a time. He had done her initial on his hand a few days before using the same method. “Of course it's safe, my hand hasn’t fallen off yet, has it?”

He’s been at it for a few minutes now. Presses a kiss to her ankle and murmurs about almost being done.

“I’m getting bored.”

“So impatient.” He mumbled. A few more minutes of him poking at her with the needle he insisted was sterile because he had held it above his lighter for a few seconds, and he was done.

“There!” He said, proudly looking up at her. Holding her foot to the side so she could see it. Using his hand that had her initial just underneath his thumb to hold her foot so they could look at them together.

“Woah, they actually look really cool.” She said, smiling back at him.

“Hell yeah they do.” The look on his face was priceless, something so simple had made him so happy. Typical, familiar Eddie.

“Hurts like hell though.” She winced.

“Well yeah, duh.” He mumbled. One last kiss pressed to her ankle bone. “You want a drink?”

“I fuckin’ need one after that.”

“You know, I still haven’t heard a thank you or a well done.” He stopped to lean against the doorway, something stirring in him again looking at her lying back and watching him. Insatiable. “I just blessed you with my terrific craftsmanship and my terrific dick and you haven’t said a thing.”

“I think you were the one who was just blessed.” She joked, jumping up to follow him to the kitchen.

His next reply earned him a smack to the shoulder: “You’re right. Your pussy is heaven.”

October. Halloween. A favourite of hers. They had been at some party, her co workers girlfriends house or whatever. He hadn’t really been listening to anyone the whole night. Every conversation his eyes were on her. Across the room, making people laugh and smile, looking absolutely fucking gorgeous. He had tried to stop her from even leaving the house like that. Honey, we could just stay here. Have our own party. He had wanted her all to his fucking self all night, and now, he finally had her. Had her standing in front of him, digging through her purse for the key to the front door.

“Eddie, calm down.” She giggled as he licked her neck, his hands squeezing at her waist pulling her ass into his crotch.

“I’ve wanted you all night, baby.” He whispered into her ear as she finally stopped jiggling the door handle and pushed it open. He was still behind her, trying to use her hips to spin her round to face him.

“I think you need to go to bed.” She giggled. “You’re way more drunk than I am.”

“I’m fine.” He replied, proving himself wrong only moments later by yawning. Her eyebrows raised. “Fuck, ignore that. I’m fine. Come here.”

She’s looking over his face. Eyes holding his tired and slightly dilated ones. He looks amazing, she must admit. He’s wearing his typical, familiar Eddie outfit. His black leather jacket that made his lanky frame look incredible, a plain white t-shirt that had some kind of drink spilled down the front of it, his black skinny jeans that probably hadn;t been washed in months and his horribly dirty white reeboks. So Eddie. So familiar.

His flushed cheeks, his quiet giggles vibrating against her lips as he tried to kiss her again and again. Fingers tracing along his jaw. Warmth and love, flickering and swirling between them.

“I love you, Ed’s.” Her forehead to his. Noses brushing. Teeth catching her lower lip, a smile as the words echo back from his own mouth. He’s staring at her now. Realising.

“It will always be you.” He whispers. She looks confused. He continues, words slightly slurred. “For me. You, always.”

She smiles up at him. Another rush of kisses and declarations and she whispers, “C’mon, lets go to bed.” Fingers still brushing his jaw and face. He feels like he could cry.

November. 6am. Eddie is up, walking around the flat. His head, pain and pressure, had woken him up. The empty wine bottles they had shared last night still scattered on the kitchen counter. Dirty glasses had been thrown by the sink as they stumbled back to the bedroom just hours earlier.

Bathroom, digging through the cabinet and draws. Fuck, he thinks. No painkillers in sight. He’s tired. Her, still curled up in bed with the cat. He’s almost jealous, but she looks so pretty. All he wants to do is stick a pill in his head and go to sleep. But apparently, they’re out. Restless - he wanders back to the kitchen and downs a glass of water. Almost expecting it to magically cure him. People always acted like it did.

Another fight, the night before. “This isn’t just a fight. Eddie.” Her. Sitting on their bed in nothing but his shirt and a real cute pair of panties. Fuck, he was mad but he couldn’t look at her sitting there like that. Bare and exposed. Flaws and faults. A simple argument that had escalated into something worse. She almost felt like she was being scolded. Her sitting on the bed and him standing at the end of it. Pacing. Hands in his hair. Cigarettes being lit. He’s so beautiful. So beautiful that it was easy to forget his wrong doings. He’d been agitated lately, snapping at her. Out of character. He’d fucked her in the shower and she’d come out the bathroom and asked him if he was feeling alright and it had all kicked off. They’d argued about everything, the pills, his drinking, his job, her friends and hawkins. That one word that keeps coming up. The thing that won’t leave them alone. Hawkins.

The pills he’s been taking, for headaches he’d said. Her voice in his head: They’re too strong.

He left the bathroom with a sigh. He climbed into bed behind her, hesitating. She was awake now. Facing away from him, waiting. Feeling his strong arm wrap around her and a kiss being placed on her shoulder. His way of saying sorry when he couldn’t use his words. His way of telling her he wasn’t ready to get up and fight again. He just wanted to lay here, in the quiet for a bit. Rain on the windows, her breathing and Kat’s purring between them. Familiar. But for how long?

December 1984. High schoolers. Hawkins. Frost tinted air. Dark sky. The christmas tree she had insisted on putting up in his trailer sat in the corner, early morning sunlight wrapping around it. He and Wyane never usually bothered with one. All 3 of them had decorated it. Usual friday nights, spent together, waking up together. He watches her get ready to leave, a fascination he has with her – childlike admiration. Twisting around his room trying to find her belongings.

He’s restless. “Can’t you stay?”

“I have work, Ed’s.” She laughed. Turning to face him, the same skirt she wore to school yesterday and her bra. “Where did you throw my shirt?”

“Dunno.” He mumbles, a cigarette being lit in his mouth. She was watching him too. Naked under the sheets resting on his hips. Fuck, she needed to leave.

“Hm. I’ll take one of yours then.” Back to the t-shirt.

“You won’t need a job when I'm a big rockstar. When we leave here and live in a real big house.” He said, watching her slip on his shirt.

“Oh yeah?” She’s dressed now, slipping on her shoes at the bottom of his bed. “You gonna take care of me?”

“Always.”

#Eddie Munson #Joseph Quinn #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff

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thisreadswhatever · 9 months

Text

To Keep Me Safe From You: Part Three

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 1.7k+

[summary]: just when you think it couldn’t get worse, SAMCRO decides it’s time for another vote.

[cw]: 18+, female reader (y/n), swearing, mentions of murder throughout, angst, a lil bit of fluff, knives, possible grammar/spelling errors

[authors note]: so this part takes place immediately after part two. this took some time for me to finish but we’re here! life has been really strange for me lately but writing this has really helped me get some of my inspiration back. i’m not 100% sure as to whether this should get another part or two.. if anyone has any ideas where it could go i’m totally interested in suggestions! hope you enjoy :)

“Chapel? Whose getting married?”

Jax chuckled at you as he made his way through the hall. He slumped himself along the edge of the bed, your towel still draped across his lower half. His arms rested on his knees as he ran his hands through his hair, sighing out loud. “Nobody’s getting married.”

You sat next to him, crossing your legs on the bed. “You really, really, need to tell me what the hell is going on, Jax. You owe me an explanation at this point. This whole thing is just insane.”

“‘Chapel’s just our word for ‘vote’, I guess.”

You hadn’t meant to discuss that further, but there was a wave of relief that set over you regardless. At least now you knew there would be no impromptu wedding on the horizon.

“So Chapel means to vote. Okay.. so what is there to vote over? You said you won’t hurt me.”

He lifted his head to meet your eyes, his voice was soft, almost exasperated. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t really my decision to make.”

“And that means..”

“It means I went against the club.”

Waves of fear crashed into you as reality hit like a ton of bricks. Your mind replayed over the events of the last several hours. Despite it feeling like a lifetime ago, Jax had tied you to your chair to do nothing more than kill you, and now you had no choice but to trust him to save your life.

“So at Chapel.. They’ll vote if I still have to die?” You shook your head as the words left your mouth, tears welling in pools under your eyelids. “Jax I didn’t hear anything, I wasn’t lying when I told you-”. Jax pulled you into his chest before you could finish, hugging you tight. “I know, I know. I told you, nobody is going to hurt you. But they already decided, and I went against the club's decision. Tomorrow there won’t be another vote on you, that’s done. And once they realise I didn’t get the job done..”

Oh. Another realisation hit, the bricks piling onto what was left of any hope you had. This wasn’t just about you anymore. “They have to vote on you.” Your voice was low as you tried to suppress the lump in your throat. You dried your tears with your wrists, pulling yourself up to look at his face. “You have to tell them I never heard anything, you have to make them understand.”

Jax was looking down on you as you laid against his chest. He tried to reassure you with a smile, but he didn’t say another word. He hugged you tight, and for a moment it felt like you’d known him for eternity. Before you could get used to the feeling, his arms loosened around you and he rose from the edge of the bed, walking towards the bathroom. “Come shower with me.”

———

“You read a lot of books, huh.” Jax wasn’t asking a question, because he already knew the answer after scouring the house all night while you were his hostage.

“Well- most of my books are back home, but yeah, I do.”

Jax seemed so nonchalant about everything. He casually cracked three eggs from the fridge into the pan on the stove while he spoke. “And where’s home?”

Your eyes squinted at him over the kitchen island. “I told you last night.”

Jax smiled. “Washington, right?” You watched as he flipped the eggs, now sticking a little too much to the hot pan in front of him.

You avoided answering. The sudden interest confused you and you pondered over whether he’d changed his mind, if he wanted to know your hometown to find your family or chase you down if you ran. You snapped yourself out of the thought, suppressing your fear. “Do you read?”

He turned from the eggs to meet your eyes, pausing for a moment before subtly shaking his head. “I write.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, trying to hide your shock. The murdering biker stranger writes. “That’s interesting. What do you write?”

He shrugged, “Just journals and stuff.”

“I would’ve never guessed that about you.”

Jax leant over the island, placing a plate of scrambled eggs in front of you on the countertop. “Bet you never guessed I was a chef either.”

You grinned politely and thanked him, poking at the dry eggs with your fork. “There’s definitely a lot we don’t know about each other.” Jax tucked into the remaining eggs over the stove, scraping at the hot pan.

Suddenly you were giggling, and then you were laughing so hard you almost choked. It was unthinkable how fucking bizarre this entire situation was. “What’s funny?” Jax was looking at you across the kitchen island, completely bewildered by your sudden amusement.

You had to catch your breath before explaining, “Last night you had taped me to a chair with every intention to end my life, and this morning you're cooking me eggs. I think I’ve lost my mind.”

Jax chuckled with you, “I’m a man of many talents, darlin’. Though I can admit that I’m still shocked you wanted me to stay.”

You pulled yourself together before standing from the bar stool at the island, heading back down the hall toward the bedroom, “I’m going to get ready for work, try not to take anymore hostages while I’m gone.”

____

The rays from the California sun had burned through the windshield of the car all morning, turning it into a makeshift oven. Your thighs hit the fiery leather of the passenger seat as you got in, the heat radiating into you. It was almost impossible for you to sit still through the warmth of it. The stench of stale cigarette smoke had intensified throughout the car, and the smell brought you right back to the events of last night. Driving home with your stranger, completely oblivious to the gang’s death sentence, and everything else that would follow. The sound of the engine roaring to life abruptly disturbed your replay of events as Jax pulled out of the driveway.

“You can make a left at the end of the road. It’s faster.” He nodded.

Jax didn’t speak as he drove, it seemed as if he was totally preoccupied by his own thoughts. You wished your mind would be as silent.

You were overwhelmed from trying to understand, too many questions and uncertainties racing in your head. What was going to happen now? If Jax couldn’t stop the club, would they kill him for going against their decision? If Jax was dead, then they knew you were still breathing, and they’d come after you next. You’d have to leave town. How could you save yourself now?

Maybe you could escape before the impending doom you had been sentenced to. Or maybe they’d kill you before you got the chance.

“I have a question.”

Jax glanced your direction, but you couldn’t tell if he was even looking at you through his dark sunglasses. “What exactly is it they think I heard?”

Jax peered over his sunglasses, and you could tell he was looking at you as he cracked a smile. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

You rolled your eyes, “you probably should’ve while you had the chance.”

Jax scoffed. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

His arrogance was no longer charming, instead now all it did was fill you with rage. “Can you blame me for not trusting some stranger who startled me into losing my car keys in the pitch black after work? Who held me at knifepoint, taped me to my armchair and held me hostage for hours? The same stranger who decided it was a better idea to spare my life and fuck me on my kitchen counter? I can’t be crazy for questioning whether I’m going to make it out of this alive. I could at least know what it is they want me dead for!”

Jax chuckled, he was too calm for your liking. “You did ask me to stay darlin’, that was all consensual.”

“Did I consent to being the target of your murder plot?”

Jax gritted his teeth, his playfulness was gone. “Look, I know you don’t really know me and it’s probably better if you didn’t. But I am sorry, I’m sorry for all of it- well, most of it-“ for a moment it seemed like he was going to smile, and then it was gone. “This is some serious shit I’m piled in.” He shook his head contemplating. “But I’m not going to let them kill you because of a dumb misunderstanding. And even if you heard everything, we don’t kill women.”

“You sure do sound like a group of martyrs.”

“I know what I am, y/n. Last night I told you I was a normal guy. I’m not. I’m not a normal guy, I’m not a good guy, and I’m definitely no damn martyr.”

Your ears rang with every word. You knew you should’ve ran for the hills the second he’d cut the tape from your wrists.

Jax pulled the car into the diner, parking alongside your abandoned Honda.

“I guess this means I have to find another locksmith. I’ll probably get my brakes cut if I go to Charmings finest mechanics now.”

Jax laughed, “cutting breaks isn’t really our style, babe.” He reached down into the well of the car door as he spoke, pulling out your lost keys, the metal dangling between his fingers.

Your eyes narrowed at him as you snatched the keys from his grasp.

Jax turned to the steering wheel, looking out of the window as he spoke. “Told ya, not a good guy.”

None of this made any sense. This man you barely knew, that needed you dead, had somehow sent a crushing pain through your chest. Maybe it was the confirmation that this had been his goal the entire time, this wasn’t a game, it wasn’t a joke. Jax Teller had to kill you, and for some reason, you weren’t dead yet.

You wanted to scream at him, tell him what a piece of shit he was. You wanted to yell and tell him how much you hated him and this dumb ass biker gang. You wanted to tell him last night was the worst and best night of your life. But the words wouldn’t form. Instead, you shoved your weight into the passenger door before quickly jumping out and furiously slamming it behind you. Childish but he got your point. Tires screeched as he sped off from the diner, leaving you stood there, frozen, tears streaming down your face.

You knew that was probably the last time you’d ever see Jax Teller again.

———

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#jax teller #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fic #jax teller fiction #jax teller smut #jax teller morrow #charlie hunnam #fan fiction #reads whatever writes #soa #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #jax teller x y/n #imagine #samcro #fluff #angst

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callsign-marlie · 2 years

Text

fly boy

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x f! civilian reader

warning: mature content 18+ *minors dni!*, drinking/alcohol/drunkenness, unprotected seggsy time w/ consent, pregnancy kink (??) a lil twist at the end, but other than that really not so much shockingly

summary: a fated failed football catch in a precarious situation leads you to a night you'll replay over and over in your head for the rest of your days.

a/n: let's pray that the tags work today but HOO BOY this is my third time trying to post this, tumblr gods please be on my side.

if you need me, i'll be thinking up domestic situations with my favorite pilots k thanks <3

Your beer was flattening by the second, but you just couldn’t get yourself to pick up the sweating glass to chug it down. After all, you’d lose your one and only form of entertainment. Every few seconds, a little carbonated bubble floated to the surface and you would count as many as you could in a minute’s time.

16.

Already significantly less than what was coming up just five minutes ago. You tipped your wrist to peek at your watch again. Twenty minutes past the hour. He was late.

“Stood up, hun?” The bartender, Penny, gave you a sad smile, drying her hands on the towel that hung from her belt loop. “A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be sitting alone drowning in the amber depths, you know. You should be out on that dance floor with the others, enjoying yourself!”

A sigh escaped your lips as your eyes wandered to the group of people out dancing to the jukebox. People from all walks of life were dancing on the floor, singing at the top of their lungs, mingling in quiet corners, or playing billiards at one of The Hard Deck’s various tables. Everyone seemed to be in their own spaces, enjoying their own little slices of life while you’ve been stuck sitting there. Counting fucking bubbles. “I’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes already, so there’s probably a good chance that the fly boy I met today ain’t gonna come hang out.”

The bartender crossed her arms, her hip coming out to the side. “Fly boy? You mean one of the aviators?” Penny huffed loud, ripping her towel from her belt loop and snapping it in the air before you. The wind from the whip made you flinch as it parted the wisps of hair near the top of your forehead. “Take it from me,” she started low, a pointed glare. “Never. Trust. Aviators. They’re gonna let you crash before they turn n’ burn out of there themselves so they don’t get taken down too.”

She grabbed at the now flattened lager on your coaster and poured another one straight from the tap. A new crisp cloud of foam rested gently at the top. “This one’s the house, hun. But don’t wait too long. That guy doesn’t owe you anything for wasting your time. It’s no use waiting on something that won’t ever come.”

You raise your glass to the bar patroness in thanks and take a long gulp. It was a bit more hoppy than you thought it would have been. Based on the color, you were expecting bitter, but not this almost refreshing tang tied with fruity undertones left on the bottom of your tongue.

Coming out to bustling Miramar for an assignment, you never expected the variety of tastes, sights, and sounds you could come to encounter. You had quickly settled in on the scenic North Island base, finding the heat and sun of the beaches to be more relaxing than the hustle and bustle of your resident city.

A trip to the beach earlier that day with your favorite book should have been all relaxation and no fuss, but a stray football landing at your feet with a tanned hunk suddenly face up under your beach chair and between your parted legs left you with your heart beating in your throat. Your head was most certainly out of sorts.

He had those boyish magazine model good looks about him, two pink scars folding themselves down his cheek to mar his skin. Natural sun highlights fell through his dark locks and he smelled of coconut and sunscreen; salt, sweat, and the musk of the sand mingling. However, the fear and nervousness in his hazel eyes as he did his best to scramble away from beneath your beach chair left you awed. He stood at quick attention, his rippling abdominals tightening into a strict posture befitting a soldier.

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am, got a little too overzealous with that catch, ma’am. Please forgive me ma’am, I-I’m so so sorry.” He stuttered through his apology, his slim mustache crinkling up at every pronunciation of ma’am. Sweat lined the top of his lip and his aviator sunglasses were aske, covered with sand as he stood at attention. A pretty little flush was apparent on his chest all the way up to his ears. You did your best to come back to reality.

“I-It’s ok, sailor, no harm no foul. You’re not hurt right?” He relaxed just a moment, letting his shoulders roll forward with a deep exhale. “Not in the slightest. Sorry about that again.”

“Hey, things happen. Would have been cooler if you caught the ball though.” You tossed the pig skin back at your resident Baywatch babe and watched him recoil at the force of the toss, clutching it to his chest. “I’ll try my best to be cooler, ma’am. Make sure you watch, this next one’s gonna be for you.” A crooked smirk left his lips, and your chest fluttered.

Shit.

He stopped his trot back to his buddies suddenly and turned around. “Also, I’m not a sailor, ma’am. I’m a pilot. An aviator. Call sign Rooster. But you? You can call me Bradley.” He left you breathless with a wink before bounding off. You barely had a moment to register what he said before you yelled back, “I’m (y/n)! And quit callin’ me ma’am, fly boy! I’m not that old!”

You had done your best to get back to your fiction, but always found your eyes gazing back up to the large group of pilots playing the most ridiculous game of tag football you had ever seen. Another toss lobbed its way through the air and Bradley grabbed it easily from another tall blonde, clutching it to his chest before spiking it to the ground in victory. His eyes rotated back to you for approval and you gave him a small clap on the top of your now forgotten book. He faced you and gave a cheeky little bow before returning back to his match up.

Son of a bitch.

Before you knew it, the sun was setting, but you didn’t leave that beach until the rowdy group had begun to pack up their things. Bradley was out of sight and you were slightly disappointed you wouldn’t see him again, but quickly packed up your bag and made your way back to your car.

You heard someone shout your name from behind you and found Bradley, still sun-kissed and beautiful, trotting up to you. “Hey, (y/n), lost sight of you! Thought I wasn’t ever gonna see you again.”

You threw your things in the back of your Volkswagen’s trunk and slammed the lid closed, leaning against the back cap with your arms crossed against the dusk. “I guess I was more invested in your game than I thought, but I still don’t really know who won.” “We had lost track a long time ago. We were just having fun at that point,” he grinned, tucking his hands into his jeans pocket. Even with night’s dark approaching, his smile was luminous. “But listen, I wanted to see if you wanted to catch a drink with me. There’s a little bar down the road over there called The Hard Deck that I like and wanted to know if you wanted to come by and have a drink with me. I gotta make it up to you for my little stunt somehow.”

A grin passed your lips, teeth and all. “Well, fly boy, I think that’s the least you can do for me. Wanna meet at 8? I have to run home and get myself cleaned up first.”

“It’s a date, darlin'. I’ll see you there.”

And that’s the last time you saw Bradley “Rooster” whatever-his-last-name-was because you were too in awe of him to think to ask for it. Or for his phone number, for that matter.

Recalling the event had you downing your fresh pint and scooting yourself off the bench with a wave goodbye to Penny. Fuck that guy. He couldn’t even pay you back for embarrassing you to sin; what a joke.

Just as you were about to go through the swinging entrance doors to your car, your face bumped into a hard chest and the faint scent of coconut and sunscreen arrested your senses. Strong hands braced your arms before you stumbled back, steadying you upright. And there he was. Shining and bright, all smiles and youth and beauty. An Apollo of the night time. Just… not as regal as you thought.

Of course, as an aviator with a name like Rooster, you should have expected him to be wearing his sunglasses at night. He wore a simple white undershirt under an open tacky 80’s Hawaiian shirt, jean cut offs lingering just above the knees with flip flops to match. He tossed you a goofy smile, a hand immediately going behind his head. “Jeez, good thing I caught you. Gotta look where you’re going, dollface! W-wait, where were you going?” You tightened your teeth against each other, doing your best not to let them grind while you pushed past him.

“I was just going to leave, thanks.”

“What?! I just got here though! I still owe you a drink!” He sounded pitiful, like a child forced to come in from play too early.

“You’re late, Bradley. A drink’s just not worth my time.”

A heavy pout crossed over him as he followed you out the door. Back to the cold outside. “Oh come on, (y/n), I was picking up some friends to bring! Look, look, look, how about this.”

Long fingers grabbed you around the wrist to spin your frame to him. As much as you wanted to slap his hand away, his pleading hazel eyes begged for only a moment of your time. “All of your drinks are on me tonight. Just come back inside. I wanna introduce you to my pals.” His gaze locked with yours, his intentions delivered to you by telepathy: pure, truthful, and genuine. A glimmer of hope.

You broke your gaze first with a flush, moving your way back into The Hard Deck and yanking your hand away. “Fine, FINE. All of them. And unfortunately for your wallet, Mr. Rooster, I’m no lightweight.”

He laughed, a playful arm wrapped around your shoulders, that damned smile shining through his lips while he led you forward back into the crowded noise of the bar. A full man child, this one. So easily pleased. “Mr. Rooster. That’s a good one. The last name’s Bradshaw, by the way. Bradley Bradshaw.”

Your nose crinkled at the thought, creased with laughter. “Jeez, did your parents hate your or something?”

He grinned, tight lipped only this time. You didn’t catch his tone or his words against the clamor of the jukebox.

He herded you over to a group of well dressed aviators in their flight uniforms, so very unlike his civie get up. A pretty brunette who waved and quickly moved to your side with a glass of something good, a blondie with a cocky smile who winked at you so much you almost thought it was some kind of tic, a shy guy hanging out in the corner with glasses hanging from his nose looking nowhere and everywhere all at once. There was a tall, willowy fella waving over from the dart board with a shorter, stronger man giving a charming grin trying to block the tall guy's shot. The final one was sitting with a pool cue in his hand waiting for his move to strike, so he only gave a nod in your direction.

Phoenix. Hangman. Bob. Payback. Fanboy. Coyote. Bradley had whispered all of their call signs into your ear while his arm draped around the plateau of your shoulders. His words were starting to slur from the constant flow of Budweisers in his system and his breath was getting heavier the longer the night rolled on. You yourself however, felt light as a feather: finally at ease and calm.

You laughed with your new friends and hollered with them at the final 8 ball shot Phoenix landed on Hangman and when she pulled the crisp $20 bill from his breast pocket. You cheered with the rest when the bar’s bell rang signaling a new round of drinks.

Time never stopped. The night felt like it rolled forever.

And then, clear as a bell, a piano played.

You didn’t notice that Rooster’s arm had left its constant perch and was currently tickling the ivories placed in the center of the room. Phoenix, a blush of alcohol across her cheeks, pulled you to the center next to the piano to listen to Bradley play. God, the way his long digits danced across the keys was an intricate dance. A tango, a jive, a Charleston. Each beat was different, each tone rang true.

Eventually, a familiar tune shook through the establishment as Bradley’s deep timbre reverberated through its foundation.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain Too much love drives a man insane You broke my will But what a thrill,”

And suddenly, the whole bar erupted. “Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!”

A joyous laughs ruptured from your lungs as the song went on, your feet twirling you across the dance floor while Rooster sang out loud, His brow was beaded with sweat. Fanboy came away from the dart board to spin you around and around before launching you at Phoenix, who held you tight before you fell to the ground in your stupor. You both rocked together, holding hands and shaking your hips to the beat. You were free, albeit drunk, but free nonetheless.

In your drunken romp, you never noticed Rooster’s eyes on you the entire time you danced. He watched the delicate framing of your arms, the bounce of your chest, the way the strap of your top dropped from your shoulder. How beads of sweat made the strands of hair on your forehead stick, or the blush of alcohol spreading across your neck to your shoulders. You were radiant. Glowing, an angel on earth.

“Rooster’s got the hots for youuuuu, girl,” Phoenix yelled, the bass of the room rolling in your chest. “He hasn’t stopped trying to touch you or look at you all night. He’s all eyes on you.”

She spun you to her quick, your neck snapping back to center with a giggle. Her smile was genuine, gentle and kind, letting you have ample time to return your own. “He’s a good one. I’d trust him with my life if I could.” And with a wink, she was gone in a flash to crowd the piano with her crew.

Your eyes drifted back to the piano man, his skin flushed and glowing under the spotlights. His head tilted back with a vein popping from his chest at the strain of the notes he was singing. The crowds were perched around his piano.

If you didn’t act now, maybe you’d never get this moment back again.

“Hey Rooster, you big stuuuuud,” you drawled, raising your glass to him.

He smiled under his breath to turn behind him, as if he wasn’t watching you the whole time. His fingers never stopped playing. “What’s up, darlin’?”

You gave a devious grin, your nose wrinkling just the way he liked. “Take me to bed or lose me forever!”

“Show me the way home!” he howled, finishing off the final verse with the howls and stomps of the bar behind him.

The crowd roared while he came up from his seat. He threw a huge wad of cash towards Penny, who gave him a knowing smile and a wink towards you. Don’t trust aviators, huh? Maybe this will be different, Penny. I feel it in my gut.

The cold of the night met your skin before you knew it and Rooster had you piggybacked to him before you could even scream to make him put you down. His abs rippled underneath your constricted legs, while his musk invaded your senses.

He walked and walked while you directed him to the place you were staying, as both of you were too in the bag to think about getting behind a wheel tonight. Your head laid on his upper shoulders while you talked about life: how you were a morning person and he was a night owl, how breakfast was your favorite and he could eat dessert for every meal.

Eventually, your surprise charter dropped you at the entrance of your home and you fumbled with the keys to unlock the door. You didn’t bother turning around while you walked in. You left the door open as you walked into the foyer, leaving your shoes at the door. That ball was in his court now.

And thankfully, you heard the door shut on its own not too long later.

You were in the kitchen with the lights dimmed low, grabbing some glasses of water and some pain medicine for your impending hangover when the pilot sauntered in. Sandals off, like a gentleman. You rolled a glass and some tablets in his direction, taking your own at the same time. As you gulped down the water, you motioned for him to swallow them. “Trust me, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

He did as he was told and you watched a rebel droplet of water sink its way down the side of his neck, rolling down the skin of his jugular. Before your brain could process what was happening, your tongue was rolling along his salt-tainted skin, licking up the pesky drop to capture his lips. It was instant electricity.

You were never this forward. Never this powerful. Something had come over you, watching him play that piano. Feeling the weight of his arm on your shoulder all night. The weight of his gaze on your form. The heaviness of his words in the shell of your ear. The feeling of his hard body pressed against your chest while he jostled you the whole way home.

A surprised mewl left his throat before he registered what had happened. His lips pressed harder against your own, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip to seek purchase to its new territory. It was all carnal as his hands found the back of your head and tangled themselves in your hair. The gentle pull of his fingers roped a surprise gasp from your lips, your jaw opening. He pulled away from you for a moment to look over your wanton face, eyes half lidded and lips swollen. He dove back in, pressing the small of your back against your kitchen island. “I may not need to thank you tomorrow. I may just thank you right now.”

Your hands grazed themselves over the ripples of his undershirt (Hawaiian shirt be damned to the linoleum floor), and lifted the hem to gently rake your nails over the smooth skin of his abdomen. He sucked in a deep breath at your feather light touches while he pulled you to sit on the edge of the island. His digits groped down your body, gently fondling the front of your chest. The pleasant shocks that rose over your skin that left goosebumps and the hair on your skin to rise. You broke his kiss, your tongues ceasing their battle for the briefest of moments for you to whisper: “Bed.”

You hopped down to grab his hand and pull him towards your bedroom, doing your best to keep as many body parts connected to him as possible. You were both a flurry of mouths, hands, skin and nails. You couldn’t let each other go, even if you tried.

He lifted you from the floor and planted you on your back atop your comforter, kissing down your clothed abdomen and running those magical, calloused hands across the exposed skin of your thighs. His mustache tickled at your skin while he nosed up the hem of your top to lick a circle at your belly button. The dampness between your legs was becoming insufferable as you squirmed under him, your fingers aching to the nerve to pull him closer.

Your top was off and your bra was shed without you realizing, you left nipple wrapped up in the warmth of his mouth. Rooster’s tongue circled and flicked at the bud, grabbing a high pitched whine from the root of your chest. He popped his lips off only for a moment to smile at you.

“Well if that wasn’t the prettiest noise I’ve ever heard,” he mused, keeping eye contact while he attached himself to the right and repeated the movement. Your breath was coming in shakily at his ministrations, the heat in your gut an impossible ache that needed relief. “Roo… Roo- Bradley, please.”

“Please what, honey? Use those words.” His fingers took their time getting to your shorts, skillfully popping the button with two fingers. “What do you want? I’ll do anything you ask me to, baby.”

“I need you, in me. This second. Foreplay be damned, I need your cock now.”

That charming smile flew back to his lips as he left a chaste kiss to your forehead. “As you wish, ma’am.”

You raised your hips enough to slide off your shorts while Bradley simply moved the cloth covering your core to the side of your thigh. He rolled himself down the bed to inspect the site for himself, groaning out loud, his head tilting back in the dim light for you to see the gleam of his throat illuminating the love bites you left behind.

“God, doll, you’re soaked. Just one taste? Please? Pretty pretty please? It looks just delicious,” he moaned out, running the tip of his index finger over your slick. Moans fell out of your mouth like a stream at this point: it was a flood. “B-Bradley, stop, I’ll cum like that.”

“Maybe that’s what I want, (y/n),” he muttered, a new darkness overtaking his tone. He crept his way back up to your face, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached a point where his hardness was pressed against you. “Maybe I want you to cum all over my fingers. Make you cum so hard, you’d squirt all over the bed. I’d make you beg me to stop. I bet you’d like that, huh?”

As much as the thought pleased you, the image of his mouth on your pussy, fingers curled deep inside, his mustache making that sweet friction against your clit, you had to do everything in your power to shoo the thoughts away. Just the pressure of his dick on your wet pussy, the heat, the girth, and the insatiable hunger was enough to grab him by the back of his hair to pull him down to you. “Put your cock in me right now, Lieutenant.”

That was it. All guns were blazing.

Rooster’s shorts and underwear were gone in an instant and he was lined up at your entrance at supersonic speed. He paused for a moment, the length of him resting on top of your stomach. His hands gripped underneath your chin as he left a sweet kiss on your lips. This man was a double edged sword; so sweet, tender even, and the next minute? A demon. A full, lustful demon ready to take you to hell with him. Now you understand Penny’s warning.

“Honey, (y/n) I don’t have any protection with me. Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Bradley, I couldn’t give a shit if I got pregnant with your baby right now. I don’t think I’ve ever needed a cock as much as I need yours right now. Just fucking give it to me.” And that was the truth. The alcohol was burning out of your system like rocket fuel and you were nearly completely sober. You couldn’t even see what his cock looked like in the dim light of the nighttime, but you knew it was everything you needed and more.

With that blessing, his forehead on yours, Rooster slowly sunk his cock into you, each tantalizing inch stretching your walls just enough. You both groaned out loud as he kept pushing, little by little, until he was sheathed to the hilt. He looked down at your face, sweat beading along his chest, dropping a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to your neck. A string of saliva connected between the two of you. A quick breath. “‘M gonna move.”

His hips rocked into your slick and you could have sworn you were going to melt. His left hand reached to connect to your neck and leave the gentlest of pressures while he pulled long strokes from your pussy. He grabbed a cry from you with each slide. Your lungs felt like they were going to explode, your heart fluttering in your chest at the pressure on your throat, his smooth voice whispering the filthiest things in your ears. Each time his cock, thick and veined, dragged from your heat, an emptiness and hollowness were left behind that only let you want more. More.

The more Bradley picked up his speed, the more comfortable you became. He released his hand from your throat and placed both hands on either side of your head. His face was close, his eyes half lidded with your mouths mere millimeters apart. You exchanged your breath, each pant and groan, each soft ‘please’ that echoed from your lips drove his hips forward to delirium.

The heat in your core pooled and pooled until finally, it gushed free from you, a relief like aloe rushing over your system. Bradley captured your lips to muffle your scream to a moan as you rippled around him, the shock of the contractions nearly bringing him to his own premature end. When the shocks were quelled, he cooed against your skin. His mouth left icy spots along your neck, your forehead, your chest. “Atta girl,” he whispered before placing a kiss on your forehead. “That’s my girl. Good job, baby. So good. Wow.”

You reveled in his praise, rubbing your cheek against his shoulders in comfort. Your stomach was in knots, but was slowly untangling itself and burning up again at the fullness already within you.

“Lay on your side.” So gentle, his commands, that you did what you were told without a word. Your head was hazy and your vision was blurry in the dark of the night, but his hands enveloped your chest to hug your back to his own, his cock already positioned behind you. He slid in just as easy, this new angle eliciting the sweetest moan from his throat. You let your hands roll behind you to tangle themselves in his sandy locks as he took the liberty to move on his own accord. His strong left arm wrapped around your breasts while his right gripped the side of your hip, fucking himself into you at a speed you had yet to experience that night.

You tipped your forehead back to meet his eyes, his pupils blown out. “Cum for me, baby,” you moaned, the friction in your pussy pulling your coil back taught. “I want you to cum in me. Fill me up. I wanna feel you, please, I want it so bad.”

At your words, his strokes only got faster, shorter, and hiccupped in rhythm. Bradley couldn’t speak: the only thought he had was to follow your plea. He pulled you tight to himself and spilled into you, his hot, heavy breath in your ear sending goosebumps down your arms. You shushed him as he moaned your name over and over, his hips sputtering into you. The feeling of him filling you was enough to settle the burning in the pit of your stomach, the flames dying out to a mere kindle.

You did your best from your position to comfort Bradley from his high, your fingers playing with his hair, your lips running along the curves and valleys of his strong arms. “You did amazing, hun,” you muttered, his small shakes and tremors running along your back. “I have you. I promise. I got you.”

He pulled you closer to him, breathing in your hair, your scent, your everything. The world slowly came back to focus to the point where he was able to dislodge himself, rolling on his back. You rolled back to your side of the bed and just laughed, garnering a chuckle from him as well.

“That was hot as fuck,” you said out loud, extending your hand out to the aviator. His grin was infectious, high fiving you in the process planted a chaste kiss on your palm to quell the burn. “Oh fuck yeah, we should do that again sometime.”

Rooster rolled on his side, a hand reaching to the bed stand beside him to click on the light. The warmth of the lamp rushed the room as he rummaged through a plate beside the bed, pulling a silver ring from the mess of notes and dog tags to place it back on his left ring finger. He wiggled his fingers, a whole man again, before dropping his wrist back to the bed. “Certainly spiced things up a little, don’t you think?”

Your own band was already back on your own left finger, giggles erupting from deep in your chest. “I can’t believe you even got Penny in on it, you pervert! Recreating the day we first met, the bar, the guys. Even the shirt.” Lo and behold, Bradley, the perfectionist he was, dug out the the exact same dumb Hawaiian shirt that he had wore the first time he took you for a drink after that fateful game of dogfight football. Where he introduced you to the Dagger squad. To where he piggybacked you home the whole way. To the first night you kissed and swore up and down you wouldn’t ever be with a Fly Boy.

But here you were, three years later, happily married, and freshly moved from your shared apartment in Virginia to your new home in the newly promoted Captain Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw’s station in North Island.

He’ll be teaching advanced aerial maneuvers to the new incoming classes of Top Gun along with Hangman and Phoenix.

You reached your arms out to your husband, making a grabbing motion. “Come here, hot stuff, gimme some sugar.”

“I think I gave you enough sugar tonight, sugar,” he laughed, enveloping your form against his chest. You planted gentle kisses along his breast bone to rest right over his beating heart. You hung there in silence in his arms, naked, comfortable, warm.

You had almost thought by the way his breathing slowed that he had fallen asleep before you could clean up, but his voice whispered out from the dark when your own eyes had begun to drift. “Hey (y/n), I have a question for you.”

“What is it, love?”

“I love you. So much.”

You tilted your head up, an eyebrow raised. “Roo, that’s not a question, baby.”

“And it never will be.”

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick ff #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #top gun fanfiction #HALLELUJAH THE TAGS ARE ALIVE!!!!

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Of Saints and Sinners - Chapter 2

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

read chapter 1 here

warnings | 18+ angst, canon-typical violence

a/n | A shorter chapter. Still very much in the exposition but we learn a little more about our girl!

“I’m like Ellie.”

Those are the words that keep replaying in Joel’s mind. Her words. That, and the image of her mottled back, the grave scars and the swirling black ink on top of them. They've made it back to town, only after promising she'd talk to him later that night, so long as he kept her secret. He had asked her who else knew and she had told him only Tommy and Maria and the men you came to Jackson with. Suddenly she wasn't so cold, practically begging him not to tell anyone. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she had been on the verge of tears.

He’s supposed to go to her house tonight, to get some more answers. He feels like his head is spinning because suddenly, there’s another person like Ellie. Someone else immune. He understands why she wants this kept secret. It’s the same reason he feels the pull to protect Ellie. She's valuable, and that makes her dangerous.

He gets to her house late, already dark out. The curtains are shut but faint light seeps out along the edges. She lives with Alex and Steve, and it’s one of the two who answer the door when he knocks, although Joel can’t be sure which.

“Miller, what can I help you with?” The young man crosses his arms over his chest, making himself a little bigger, a little grimmer. He’s the one that can sometimes coax you down to the bar in town, Joel’s seen him even pull a smile out of you.

“He’s here to talk with me, Steve, it’s alright.” She comes up behind her companion, squeezing his shoulder. The two of them share a look before Steve steps back, sulking back into the house.

“I didn’t realize he was your bodyguard.” She snorts at that, shrugging her shoulder to invite him in. “He means well.”

“Where’s the other one?” She tells him that Alex is on patrol tonight, letting him follow her down the hall to what he assumes is her room. She closes the door behind him. It’s sparse, a mattress on the floor, an old wicker rocking chair, and a few stacks of clothes. What draws his attention are the stacks of books next to her bed. She must have been picking those up for ages to have so many collected.

She sits at the end of your bed and motions for him to sit in the chair. “Well, I told you I’d give you answers. So start asking questions.”

“Where’d you get all that ink?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Joel huffs. He’s not really sure where to start, that’s just the first thing that came out.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut. “Alex, he was an artist before – well, before. When I met him he had a gun made out of an old sewing machine motor, making his own ink out of ash and witch hazel. I’d let him practice on me. Figured anything would be better than what was already there.”

Quiet descends again. Joel wracks his brain, trying to find some thread of sanity, what to ask her next.

“That doesn’t sound real safe,” she fully laughs at that, pressing her palms into her thighs to stand up. “Look, if you just came to ask me questions about my tattoos, this conversation can be over right now and I can be out of here by tomorrow morning and no one has to know anything.”

“Listen, I’m trying to figure this all out too. I’m still having a hard time believing what I saw, what you told me. But I don’t see why you’re getting ready to fly the fucking coop. You got a good thing going here.”

Joel’s up on his feet and suddenly they're both in each other’s faces.

“Yeah, I do have a good thing going here, and I think you know better than most what a secret like mine can do to a good thing. I’m not gonna be turned into another person’s lab rat, do you understand?” Joel swallows, “another?”

“What?”

“You said you weren’t gonna be turned into another person’s lab rat. Is that what all those bites are from?” Joel doesn’t need an answer, he’s already got it in the way she shrinks back, gaze skittering to the ground. Something in him twinges at that.

“Does Ellie know about you?” She looks up at him again, shaking her head.

“I told you already. Only Alex, Steve, Tommy, and Maria know. And now, unfortunately, you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, letting out a long exhale.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone, you know. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Joel tries to sound genuine, but feels like he ends up coming off like a dope. “For some reason I’m inclined to believe you.” She sits back down on the edge of her bed, Joel leans back against the wall.

“Is that why you go out on those raids?” She looks up at him, questioning. “You’re immune. Feel like you can go out and play hero or somethin’?” She prickles at that, hardening her eyes into a glare.

“Hardly. I just need to get away from all this. It’s good. But it’s not real. Out there? That’s what’s real.” She's looking down at her hands, mumbling out the last of it. It’s quiet for a moment. Joel can understand that. That feeling like everything’s gonna fall out from under you eventually, because it always has, and you have to be ready for that inevitable plummet.

He studies her for a moment. The slope of her nose, her eyelashes falling over the tops of her cheeks. He thinks to himself that she would’ve been pretty, back before. Now, she's something else entirely, something that makes his breath kick in a way he’d be hard pressed to admit.

“You got any other questions?”

“Is Steve your – your man?” That one draws a laugh out of her that makes Joel reel. “You really ask the dumbest shit, you know that?” He hardly hears what she says, too focused on the waft of a smile across her face.

“I don’t have a man, Joel Miller. Just really important friends.” With that, she stands up, tilting her head as if to say are we done here? “So you’re gonna keep my secret?”

He nods, “you don’t have to worry about it, I will.”

She lets out another long sigh, opening her door and walking him back to her porch. As Joel’s walking out, he turns on his heel, “can I ask you one more thing?” She looks at him, expectantly.

“Why does everyone around here call you the saint?”

“You’re out of questions. Good night, Joel.”

#joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #fanfic

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pearbunny · 10 months

Text

the bucket list ✘ [two]

series masterlist | previous | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]

summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was.

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut.

general warnings: tourist!mc, swearing/cursing, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, mentions of death in later chapters, eventual smut.

word count: ~4.2k

chapter content: monologue, mc in her own head, anxious thoughts/tendencies, caffeine dependency, tattoo gun & needle, tattoos, Wooyoung (from ateez) makes an appearance, some(one?)'s catching feelings?

What the fuck did I just get myself into?

You replayed the day’s events in your head.

About two days ago, you were back home on your bedroom floor, reading an old leather bound notebook, the pages and its writings faded from age. This wasn’t the first time you’ve read the notebook, but this time, when you turned the page onto the bucket list, you felt compelled to look at it differently. It wasn’t just a list.

Take more risks. Be (a little) reckless.

Could that really be classified as a bucket list item? Probably not, but it was on the list and for one reason or another, those words jumped out at you.

Just like that, you decided that this was the last day you’d read through the bucket list without the intention to do anything about it. Bucket lists were made to be completed, or at least mostly completed.

You looked through the list, found the most outrageous and reckless item. Travel to Korea.

Within ten minutes, you convinced your boss to give you some time off, you booked a flight, found your passport—valid still, thankfully—, and had started packing. Usually, you were a planner. Your calendar app on your phone was linked to your personal laptop and your desktop at work. In addition to that, you had a planner you kept in your bag with color coded markers and stickers for certain kinds of appointments. If you weren’t running on the adrenaline of doing something spontaneous, you would have planned out your outfits for the next two weeks, you would have booked reservations at fancy restaurants you wanted to try, you definitely would have booked a hotel.

Now, the adrenaline had worn off. You were staring at the ceiling, laying in a bed that wasn’t your own, in an apartment that belonged to a man you met barely 10 hours ago.

What were your plans for tomorrow? In what order did you plan on accomplishing the bucket list? It wouldn’t make sense to travel to the countryside of Korea to see stars, come back into the City for something like an art exhibit at a popular museum, and then go back to the countryside to see the ocean.

Also, there was the issue of money. It’s not like you could work somewhere, you were here on vacation, not a work Visa. And with the limited amount of money, you’d have to start researching some pretty inexpensive places to sleep at, especially if you wanted to use the money for traveling.

Or maybe you could take an overnight bus.

Let’s not forget about how not only did Jisung want to do this wild Bucket List with you, but you agreed to it. You knew nothing about him. This wasn’t the first time that the thought crossed your mind.

How old was he? You assumed he was younger than you, but how much younger? Oh god, were you staying with someone barely 18? 'No, Y/N', you started thinking to yourself, 'He’s old enough to live alone... Which actually doesn’t necessarily mean he’s 18. There’s emancipation… Does that exist in Korea? '

Wait, but what if he was older than you? What if he just looked young? What if he was secretly two times your age? What if he was an older business man that expected you to accept his business proposal to act as his fiancé so that he could continue to run his family’s compa—

This was insane. The whole thing was insane.

But you were so tired.

So so tired.

——————————

Your eyes blinked open and it took a couple of moments for them to focus on the door to the left of the bed. You groaned as you sat up, stretching your arms above your head earning yourself a yawn. You stepped into Jisung’s guest slippers and shuffled your way to the bathroom. On the way, you noticed that Jisung’s door was slightly ajar, letting his music come through to the living room, it sounded like a pop rock song you had heard once or twice before.

Your thoughts of last night came back to you under the hot water of your shower, but unlike the night before, you had a good night’s rest. You were awake and hopefully, you could rationalize things better. Or at least not jump to conclusions.

You breathed in the hot steam, letting it open your lungs up.

You still had your phone, it’s not like you weren’t completely devoid of contact with the world back home. You had told your dad that you were going to Korea. Granted, you called him at the airport and granted he wasn’t too thrilled, once you had explained why you were going, that it was on the bucket list, he had understood. “Be safe,” he had said. “I’m only a call away. I’ll hop on the next plane to come get you,” and you knew he meant it.

You also did take a self-defense class if it ever came to that…

Despite all of that, something in your gut told you that Jisung was a genuine person. Sure he was a pretty smooth talker, but in between those suave comments, you could see he was thoughtful, sincere. There were moments when he seemed a little awkward and those small moments were what made you believe he was a good person.

After your shower, you peeked your head out of the bathroom door, checking to see if Jisung was still in his room. To your surprise, he was at the kitchen counter. You had forgotten a change of clothes and were just in a towel.

Jisung tossed a glance over his shoulder, hearing the bathroom door open. He looked back quickly at the coffee he was brewing. “Uh, I made you coffee.” You could see the tips of his ears slowly turn pink.

“I’ll be right out,” You quickly ran to the guest room, clutching the towel around you.

You dressed yourself in a pair of blue denim jeans and gray long sleeve shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder that you had tucked into your jeans. You came back out of your room, hair in a towel.

As soon as you opened the door, the strong aroma of coffee came to your nose. You breathed the smell in deeply and sat at the island, an almost dreamy expression on your face. “Thank you for this. I’ve got a bit of a caffeine dependency.” You brought the large mug towards you, surprised at how light in color was. “How’d you know?”

He laughed and rubbed at his nose with the knuckle of his index finger. “Kind of hard to miss when you happen to be only the second person I know in my life that doesn’t drink regular americano’s.”

You smiled sheepishly and brought the coffee to your lips. “Hmm, could be sweeter.” You joked and laughed at the deadpan expression on Jisung’s face.

“Any plans for today?” He asks you, checking his schedule on his phone. “I talked to my boss and was able to get a couple days off. I’ll probably have to work one shift since I made a deal with another coworker before I get the rest of the days off.”

“I was thinking of seeing what the most logistical way to do the bucket list was. I was thinking of doing everything I can in the city first, then for more nature-like goals, I can take an overnight bus to the country! That way, I would spend less money on hotels for this whole entire trip. Which, again, thank you for letting me stay here, it’s honestly helping out financially. But you really don’t have to come with me for the whole two weeks, especially if it interferes with work.”

He couldn’t help but crack a smile at your rambling, then took a sip of his americano. “Well seems like someone got some good rest in.”

“Yeah, I did… why?” You raised a brow at him. That smile of his seemed like he had something else to add on.

“Well,” he placed his cup back down and crossed an arm over his torso, biting on the tip of his thumb. He was holding back a chuckle. “I tried waking you up a couple of times.”

Your eyes widened, “A couple of times?”

Jisung nodded, looking at the clock on the wall behind you. “Y/N… It’s already 6:30 in the evening.”

“6:30?!” Your head whipped around to look at the clock, your towel falling off your head. You hopped out of your chair and speed-walked back to your room, careful not to spill your coffee on the way. “I only have two weeks here, Jisung!” You yelled at him from the floor in your room as you dug through your makeup bag.

He followed you up until the doorway, where he just stood and watched. You turned your attention to him from your reflection, “Jisung! Don’t just stand there; the book!” You pointed at the notebook on the desk.

Jisung scrambled through the doorway and grabbed the journal, sitting on the floor. “Um, what am I looking for?”

“It should be towards the end, it says ‘My Bucket List’, it’s in cursive.”

Jisung squinted his eyes, “You realize that even people who know English as their first language can barely read cursi— Found it!” He was carefully turning the pages. “This book looks pretty old.”

You shot him a glance in the middle of applying mascara on your lashes. You raised a playful brow and scoffed at him, “Are you calling me old?”

“What? No? No!” He stammered, clearly caught off guard by the accusation. “Of course not!”. He got on his knees and started to crawl towards you, pointing at an item on the bucket, “Well, you could have breakfast for dinner since you woke up so late.”

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm lightheartedly.

“Okay, well then, what about Get a Tattoo?”

You finally finished with your makeup. You put your nearly dry hair up in a messy bun. You chugged the rest of your coffee, placed the mug on the floor and clapped your hands together. “Alright, let’s do this!”

The loud hum of vibrating needles sounded over the hip hop track playing from the shop’s speakers. You were sitting on a couch, waiting while Jisung was dealing with the shop’s receptionist and gathering all the paperwork. Your right knee started bouncing, anxiety creeping in.

He joined you back on the couch and placed a clipboard in your hands. “Okay, so… Name, date of birth, phone number, they said you could skip address, and terms and conditions yada yada, just check the box.”

You smiled weekly at him, grabbing the pen attached to the clipboard and filling it out to the best of your abilities. “Thanks.”

“Are you excited?” Jisung adjusts the gold rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up by the bottom of the frames.

“Umm… I don’t know if that’s the word I would choose.” You started clicking the pen in your hands. Maybe the coffee wasn’t the best idea.

“Okay,” he placed a hand on top of yours, prying the pen away. He took the clipboard and placed it on the coffee table in front of you both. “You’re nervous, I can see that now.” He chuckled softly, his brows knitting together.

“Tattoos are permanent.”

Jisung nods at you slowly, “I mean… yes. They are. But you’re not planning to get a whole sleeve… right?”

You shook your head and if you weren’t so nervous, you would have laughed. Instead, you were too focused on the ache in your stomach, the clamminess of your palms. “No! Not that there’s anything wrong with sleeves, but that would be something I preferred to be more… thought out.”

A man came in, tall, strong square jaw, and a slit in his right brow. His hair was jet black, parted in the middle and styled so that some of his hair fell just past his eyebrows. “Hi, y/n?”

You stood up and took the clipboard with you in your hands. “Yes, that’s me.”

“This way ‘round back.” The man steps aside to let you through. His eyes hold your own for a beat longer than normal. It causes a blush to adorn your cheeks. Jisung was right behind you and offered a tight lipped smile at the other man.

“I’m Wooyoung. I’ll be tattooing you today.” He sits on a stool with wheels attached to the legs, allowing him to scoot around to what looked like his work desk. You took a seat on the padded tattoo table and handed Wooyoung the clipboard with your information on it while Jisung leaned on a wall opposite of you.

“So, what are we thinking of getting today? Matching tattoos for the both of you?” Woo young looks over the forms. “Oh, just you today? Nothing for your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you laugh softly, hiding it behind your hand.

“Oh?” Wooyoung raises a brow at you.

The tips of your ears reddened. You weren’t used to the attention.

Jisung clears his throat, “Have you decided on a design, y/n?”

You shook your head, “I still have no clue.”

Wooyoung looks you up and down, chewing on his bottom lip. “Okay, how big are we thinking?”

You held up your index finger and thumb, extending them out as far as you could go, “No bigger than this.”

Wooyoung nodded and grabbed a piece of tattoo transfer paper and sketched out the general size that you requested. “Any idea where you want it?”

You shook your head again. “No… not really.”

Wooyoung laughed with his whole chest, “Well, I guess this isn’t the first time someone’s come in here without much of a plan.” He took out his laptop and positioned it to show both you and Jisung the screen, scrolling through his portfolio. “Something sexy, something cute?”

“A little bit of both?” The words came out of your lips before you could really think it through. It surprised you, you always thought of yourself as getting a very minimalistic micro tattoo on your wrist.

Jisung shifts his weight, arms crossed in contemplation. “Well, how visible do you want it?”

“I wouldn’t mind if it was hidden.” You took your hair down from the bun and tried to comb out the dent that the scrunchie left.

“Okay, how about your sternum?” Wooyoung formed a rectangle with his hands and placed them against the center of his chest. “Kinda’ sexy, you can show it off whenever you want.”

Your eyes glanced at Jisung, as if you’re looking for his approval. He raises his eyebrows at you and shrugs his shoulders. “This is all you. Whatever you get will look great though.”

Wooyoung’s eyes darted back and forth between you and Jisung. “You guys sure you’re not dating?”

Jisung shook his head and smiled nervously. “We actually just met yesterday.”

Wooyoung shrugs. “Never stopped me.” He said it under his breath, and judging by the look on his face, he was joking. Or at least half joking.

“Anyway,” you take your hair down from its bun and attempt to comb the dent the scrunchie left. “I’m going to pass on the sternum.”

Jisung pushed himself off the wall he was leaning, his eyes focused on you. “What about your neck?”

Wooyoung scoffed, “She said she wanted it hidden, dude. That’s kind of the opposite.”

“No, not like on the side. I mean like behind her neck.” He came behind you and gently gathered your hair, placing it over your shoulder. You held your hair out of the way, letting him see the nape of your neck. Jisung grazed his fingers over your skin, a light, feather-like touch sending tingles down your spine, causing you to straighten up in your seat. “Something small. It would compliment how delicate your neck is.” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

For a moment, you forgot how to speak in complete sentences. “Y-yeah, that sounds… great.”

Jisung stepped back and took a seat on a similar stool to Wooyoung’s, sliding it over to sit next to you. The difference in height of your seats made it impossible for you to look him in the eye, you could only see the top of his head which you were thankful for. The blush was back adorning your cheeks and — when did it get so hot in here?

“Okay. No bigger than 10 centimeters, something delicate… Maybe fine line, then?” Wooyoung ponders for a bit, then places his pencil on paper. “Okay, let me draft a couple of things up and you can decide after seeing them. ”

Jisung turns to you and places a hand on your knee. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Nervous. Excited.” You answered truthfully. There was a part of you that was a little afraid. You’d always wanted a tattoo, but the situation being played out right now was not at all the way you envisioned getting your first one. The other part of you? There was something thrilling about not having to mull over a decision for at least 3 months, not having to put it into your calendars, not having to ask for your friends’ opinions. It was thrilling living in the moment.

“Okay, take a look at these.” Wooyoung showed you three options, all really simple and delicate. The first consisted of two small butterflies in motion, offset by a couple of centimeters to create a more dynamic look. The second was of a star, or what looked more like the twinkle of a star, not the typical 5 point star you’d draw as a kid. The third was of a single elongated rose stem.

You held all three in your hands, looking over them carefully. Then, you showed them to Jisung at your side. “What do you think?”

You focused on his eyes which were scanning the drawings carefully. Your eyes traveled down to his mouth when you caught the minuscule movement of his teeth biting on the corner of his bottom lip in thought.

“I like this one.” His hands grabbed the one in the center, the second one, and you looked back towards it.

“I like that one, too.” And you did. You were going to choose it anyway, to be honest, but for some reason you valued his opinion on this.

You sat against the tattoo chair that looked like an elevated massage chair. Your face pressed on the cushion that had a hole in the middle. Your hair was up in a ponytail and out of the way so that Wooyoung could tattoo the back of your neck.

Jisung was in front of you, squatting so that you were both eye level with each other. He was holding your hand, something for you to squeeze for when it got painful.

“Sorry,” you murmured, shutting your eyes. “If my hands are sweaty I mean.”

Jisung snorted in an attempt to stifle his laugh. “Eh, it’s okay. I’ve held sweatier hands.”

If your eyes were open, you would have rolled them.

Behind you, you heard Wooyoung’s tattoo gun turn on, giving off a high pitched vibration. “You ready?” He asked. He placed a gloved hand on a certain part of your neck. “I’m going to start right here. Just letting you know where to expect the poke.”

“Poke?” You could almost laugh. A tiny needle stabbing into your skin wasn’t exactly just a poke.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said casually, shrugging his shoulders with a chuckle. “Just a poke. A lot of ‘just a pokes’.” You felt him hold the skin on your neck taut and he was about to start when he pulled back. “Also, try not to move your head. And relax. All of those things at the same time. You got it.”

You opened your eyes and gave Jisung an incredulous look.

This time, Jisung laughs. “Yeah, you got it.”

“Here we go.” Wooyoung warned. Once the needle sunk into your skin, you shut your eyes and tried to focus on keeping still, keeping relaxed. You bit your lip to muffle the groan of pain.

Jisung gently squeezed your hand, seeing your face contort in pain. You squeezed back gently, trying to keep your body from tensing up. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles, trying to soothe your discomfort away.

After some time, Jisung squeezed your hand once, trying to get your attention on him.“You regretting it yet?”

You were thankful for his attempt to keep it light hearted. You laughed and opened one eye, wincing through the scratching sensation on your neck. “Not yet, but this better be fucking cute when you’re done, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung snickered and rolled his eyes as he wiped away the blood and ink so that he could see what he was doing. “We’re almost done.” He went back to work, not once taking his eyes off of what was in front of him. “What about you, Jisung. Do you have any tattoos?”

Jisung pauses, contemplating sharing that detail of himself. He scratches the back of his neck as a nervous smile plays on his lips. “Yeah. One.”

“You do? Where?” You don’t remember seeing a tattoo in all the 30ish hours you’d spent with him. A chunk of it was spent asleep, but it’s not like you didn’t notice the tone of his arms, the curvature of his neck, the strength of his calves.

“My back,” Jisung said casually. When you didn’t say anything, he continued on. “It’s just an abstract line that goes down my spine.” He shrugs his shoulders.

For a second, you wanted to say ‘Can I see it?’ But thankfully, those were just thoughts and those thoughts would stay with you. ‘Cause that would be weird, right?

“All done,” Wooyoung did his final wipe on your neck. “Let me just clean it up.” He squirted some kind of solution onto your neck and cleaned up the tattoo, then handed you a mirror. “Check it out!”

You let go of Jisung’s hand and grabbed the mirror from Wooyoung. You made your way over to the full length mirror at the far end of the room. Both Wooyoung and Jisung followed you, waiting for your reaction. You positioned your back to the full length mirror and held up the hand mirror to your face, angling it so that you could see the back of your neck and your new tattoo.

There was a negative space at the center of the star, eight lines branching out from it. The longest line was the one on the bottom, longer than its top counter-part by six times. The line tapered off until it was just a dotted line. The four diagonal lines were not symmetrical with each other which gave off the illusion of movement. It was delicate, it was minimalistic, and it was just what both Jisung and Wooyoung had said it would be: cute, but a little sexy. It gave you some sort of new found confidence.

“I love it!”

“Glad you do!” Wooyoung took the hand mirror from you and put it on a tray beside the table. He grabbed a tub of what you assumed was ointment and smeared it on your tattoo. After spreading it out, he patched it up in a protective clear plastic-like wrap. “You can take the wrap off in two days to let the tattoo breathe. Clean hands. Mild Soap. Moisturize with an unscented lotion. If it scabs or gets itchy, don’t pick or scratch at it.”

You nodded, listening to all the instructions Wooyoung gave you. “Got it.”

Wooyoung hands you a rectangular card. “If you have any questions, you can call me.” He points at his number on the business card. “My socials are on there, too.” He gives you a playful and attractive smirk then runs his hand through his hair. “Or… You could probably ask Jisung since he’s gotten a tattoo before.”

You look at the card in your hand before putting it in your purse. “Thanks. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

By the time you two stepped out of the tattoo shop, it had gotten pretty late. The street lights overhead and the neon signs of the stores and restaurants around were lit up, making the small alleys and streets come alive with all the different colors.

You smiled brightly up at Jisung and spun on your heel, lifting your ponytail over to the front of your face to show him your new tattoo again. “What do you think? You like?” You were so excited you almost sang the words.

Jisung tilted his head with a lazy smile on his lips, one that tugged at one corner of his mouth more than the other. He approached you from behind and took your ponytail from over your face, placing it neatly back in place. He tugged at your ponytail very gently in a teasing manner.

“Yeah, I do like.”

Before you could turn around to face him, he had stepped around you and continued walking down the street without you. “Let’s go find some dinner.”

If you paid attention, you would have noticed the tips of his ears had turned a bright pink.

author's notes: I want to thank every single person who has left a like or a has reblogged either the first chapter or the masterlist so far. I haven't been very active in the fandom at all and I never expected anything I did to garner as much interest as it has already. ANYWAY. Might do a lil moodboard for chapters at somepoint. lmk if that's something that would interest anyone. also flirting is hard, writing two people flirting is harder.

taglist :

@burningchaosdeer, @bat-shark-repellant , @jisunglyricist , @captivq , @lixiel0ver , @channieandhisgoonsquad , @dalamjisung , @laylasbunbunny , @beanebabyy, @hyunfilms

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#han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #han x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #han jisung #jisung fic #jisung fluff #skz fanfic #jisung smut #han jisung series #jisung series #han jisung fanfic

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ao719 · 1 year

Text

Best Kept Secrets

Best Kept Secrets - Nothing’s For Sure (Chapter 9)

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: An unforeseen encounter with the past proves that even the best-kept secrets eventually make their way into the light.

Title inspiration: Our Story - Graham Colton

Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x F!OC

A/N: Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.

Rating: M • Warning: This series will contain NSFW material. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Catch up here

Taking in a deep breath, Liam stretched the sleep from his body as he shifted to his side in the bed. The faint scent of wild blackberry and orchid filled his senses, and his eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing her long brown hair splayed against the crisp white pillow; his eyes traveled down the expanse of her bare back to where the sheet was draped over her hip, covering her lower half. He let out a quiet breath as flashes from the night before began to replay in his head: her lips on his, her silky skin under his touch, the sounds she made, the way his name dripped from her lips in pleas, falling asleep with her in his arms.

If he could, Liam would relive that night a thousand times over.

Seeing her begin to stir, his gaze traveled back up, and she started to turn toward him; his eyes fell on her face as hers began to flutter. Liam met Amara’s blue-eyed gaze a moment later, and he softly smiled. “Hi …”

Amara pulled the sheet up. “Hi.”

Liam smiled softly as he drank her in. “How is it possible for you to wake up looking this beautiful?”

“A charmer first thing in the morning, huh?” Amara chuckled sleepily. “And it isn’t possible, you’re just half asleep still.”

“Well, in that case, I like this dream,” Liam smiled as he reached over, brushing the wisps of hair away from her face. “Did you sleep ok?”

Amara couldn’t help but be slightly amused at the casualness of his question. “Yeah, I did. You?”

“Better than I have in a long time.”

Earning another smile from her, Liam pulled her to him before closing the small space and pressing his lips to hers; she eagerly returned the gesture as her hand gently curled around the back of his neck. As the kiss deepened, their bodies began to shift in the bed, limbs entangling beneath the sheets as they quickly became lost in that moment. His hand outlined the curve of her body, stopping on her thigh; he pulled her leg up to his waist, smiling into the kiss when a whisper of a moan escaped her.

However, as much as Amara didn’t want to stop, they had to talk. “Liam,” she whispered against his lips.

Liam drew back to look at her. “Yeah?”

“What … what does this mean? Last night? … Right now?”

“I …” Liam let out a soft breath. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. He searched her eyes, getting lost in their brilliant blue. “I do know that after last night … whatever this may be … I don’t want it to stop.”

Amara stared up at him. After that first taste of him last night, she didn’t want it to stop either, but she didn’t know how this was going to continue considering their — his — circumstances. The fact of the matter was that Amara was free to do what she wanted; Liam was not. Not only was he married, but also a King, who had eyes on him at all times.

Then something struck her, something he had mentioned during their first real conversation in the garden maze.

“I don’t want it to stop either,” Amara whispered.

“Good,” Liam smiled before brushing his lips against hers, but she stopped him before he could kiss her.

“So you’ll have to speak with Madeleine?” Amara questioned.

Liam furrowed his brows in confusion as to why she would want him to speak to his wife. “What?”

“Isn’t that your … deal?” Amara asked. “That you two discuss any … arrangements you may have?”

“Oh, uh …” Liam trailed off for a moment before slowly nodding. “Right.”

“And that … that’s what this would be between us … just … an arrangement of sorts …” Amara ignored the unexplainable pang in her chest at her own words.

Never would she have thought she’d willingly be someone’s secret. Yet here she was, asking for it.

Liam stared at her, remaining quiet for a moment. This went beyond just an arrangement, at least for him. He had feelings for Amara, very strong feelings that had been building for a while now. They were feelings that had only strengthened after the night they spent together. He wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about him; he knew there was something there on her end, evident by her saying she didn’t want whatever this was between them to stop, but to what extent, he didn’t know. Regardless, it didn’t change how he felt about her. He and Madeleine never discussed that topic; they never talked about what it would mean or what would happen if feelings were to ever get involved in any arrangements. He supposed it was an unspoken rule that didn’t need an explanation.

Arrangements were supposed to be casual; feelings could cause things to get complicated and chaotic. Keeping it casual ensured that time spent together would always be brief and to the point; it drew a line in the sand. Feelings could create problems … for more reasons than one.

Liam needed Madeleine’s permission to continue in an arrangement just as he had given his permission to her. Things would be discussed between them regarding who it was, how often they expected to see them, non-disclosure agreements being signed, and so on. If Madeleine knew of his growing feelings for Amara — something he wasn’t sure he would be able to hide from her, at least not well — and if she thought that Amara may return those feelings, he wasn’t so sure she would agree to it, not without a fight anyway. He didn’t want to fight, but he didn’t want to stop seeing Amara either.

“Liam …?” Amara whispered, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I’ll talk to her,” Liam said.

“Today? Once she gets here?”

“Yeah,” Liam assured her. He looked over at the clock on the nightstand; it was almost 8 am. Madeleine would be expected in Valtoria within the next hour or so. “But until then …” He trailed off as he looked back at her, catching a glimpse of her smile before he captured her lips again.

Taking in a slow breath, Amara arched her back to stretch the sleep from her body; she felt an arm slightly tighten around her, pulling her closer. Her eyes snapped open as the aquatic nuances of his cologne filled her senses and his soft breath rustled her hair; she was nestled into his side with her head on his chest. She closed her eyes as flashes from the night before filled her head: the library, the passion and desperation, his lips and teeth marking her, his strong hands everywhere, and coming back to his room to spend half the night seemingly trying to make up for lost time.

Amara’s eyes opened and she could feel the anxiety start to slowly creep up inside her as her gaze shifted upward to Liam’s face; he was still asleep beside her.

There was no turning back from this now, not after last night. Everything that Amara had been trying to bury regarding her feelings for Liam had now been laid bare. She was still in love with him, and he knew it. No, they hadn’t had some in-depth conversation about it, too preoccupied with one another to do so, but he knew because he knew she wouldn’t have crossed that line otherwise. He knew because he knew her; he’d always been able to so easily slip into the cracks of the deepest parts of her that she tried to keep hidden and pull out every raw truth.

All but one.

A breath escaped Amara as her mind wandered to the lingering secrets between them, one in particular. Now that they were here, what was she going to do? It was something she’d struggled with since first arriving back in Cordonia and seeing Liam again for the first time in two years.

It was … delicate.

It wasn’t something that Amara could continue to keep from him, nor was it something that could simply be blurted out. And once Liam knew … things were going to change. Everything was going to change. It was something that could go a myriad of different ways, but she was certain that he was never going to look at her the same … and that terrified her.

“Hi,” she heard Liam’s raspy voice.

Amara lifted her gaze to see him looking at her, and she swallowed thickly. “Hi …”

Liam leaned forward. “Sleep ok?” he murmured against her forehead before placing a kiss there.

“Yeah … you?”

Taking in a slow, contented breath, Liam nodded. “I did.” His fingertips ran languidly up and down the length of her spine as they stared at one another; he could sense her thoughts were jumbled. “Are you ok?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Amara answered. She wasn’t sure if it was the truth or a lie.

“You look like you have something on your mind …”

Amara let out a breath. “I have a lot of something’s on my mind, Liam.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

“No,” Amara shook her head before tilting it away from him. “Not right at the moment.”

Liam’s finger scooped under her chin, gently lifting her gaze back to his; his hand shifted, settling on the side of her neck as he leaned closer. “You know you can talk to me,” he whispered, brushing his nose against her cheek. “About anything.”

Amara’s heart slowly dropped. “I know.”

Drawing back just enough to meet her gaze, Liam searched Amara’s eyes for a moment. He knew there was something on her mind, something she wanted to talk to him about, but he also knew that pressing her on the matter wouldn’t achieve anything. Whatever it was, he didn’t think it was anything consequential that he needed to pry out of her; she would talk to him when she was ready.

Right now, he just wanted to be with her without worrying about anything else.

Liam leaned in and captured her lips in his, and she returned the kiss eagerly. Without breaking away, he rolled to his back, pulling her on top of him; he kissed her slowly as if they had all the time in the world.

To him, they did.

Happy didn’t begin to describe how Liam was feeling about where things between them had ended up going the night before. For the first time since her arrival back in Cordonia, he knew how Amara felt; he saw it in her eyes and the way she looked at him, he felt it in her kiss and the way she touched him, and he watched that veil finally drop away, solidifying it all.

It left him feeling hopeful.

Knowing they both still held onto those feelings from their past, Liam couldn’t help but feel like this was a second chance for them, one he’d spent the last two years believing he’d never get; when Amara left, he never thought he’d see her again, and he knew she thought the same of him.

Unlike last time, however, they had a real chance at making it work because nothing was standing in their way.

Drawing back for a breath, Liam looked up at Amara as he combed her hair away from her face. “Stay with me today.”

“Liam—”

Liam silenced her with another kiss. “Please,” he whispered against her lips. “Everyone is leaving …” He kissed her again. “My schedule is clear today. We can stay here … have the whole place to ourselves.”

“I can’t …” Amara replied. “I have to get back to the hotel. I have … things I have to check on and take care of and work to do.”

“You can do your work here,” Liam said before kissing her again.

“We both know I wouldn’t be doing much work,” Amara jested in return. “And none of my stuff is here anyway.”

“I can have it brought here for you.”

“I … I can’t, Liam,” Amara shook her head. “I have to get back. I’ve already been gone all night.”

“What’s that matter?” Liam questioned playfully. “I’m sure Daniel got by just fine without you for one night.”

Amara smiled despite the pang she felt in her chest. “Be that as it may … I still can’t stay.”

Liam let out a soft breath as he dropped his head back on the pillow and looked up at her. “Can I ask you something?” When she nodded, he reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear. “This … last night … what does it mean?”

The weight of his question was heavy. Amara knew what she wanted it to mean — what she hoped it could mean — but there was so much riding on the unknown. At that exact moment, Liam was blissfully unaware of how things would inevitably change. She rested her chin on her hands that were folded across his chest, staring at him for a long moment. “I … I don’t know,” she answered quietly.

“I haven’t said everything I’ve wanted to aloud … trying to give you space and hoping that my actions have shown enough for you to know how I still feel about you, but in case there were any doubts … Amara, I—” Liam stopped when she placed a finger over his lips.

“Don’t,” Amara shook her head. “Don’t say it … not yet.” When he furrowed his brows, she let out a breath. “We don’t know what’s going to happen and I — I don’t …” She trailed off. “Just don’t say it yet …” Of course she knew — and she felt the same — but him saying it aloud made it more real … and would be sure to make things more difficult.

Liam stared at her for a moment; he supposed a part of him understood where she was coming from, but the other part of him still wanted to say it. He loved her. He never stopped. And although they both knew it, he wanted her to hear it so there could be no doubts. He simply nodded instead, however, respecting her wish. “Ok. But this … being with you again … I don’t want it to stop. There are no obstacles this time. It’s not like before, Amara. And I just … I feel like this is a second chance for us … and I don’t want it to end here.”

Amara held her breath, feeling her heart momentarily stop at his words. “There are no obstacles this time.” Though he didn’t know it, everything he was saying was only making things harder. “We just … have things we need to figure out. You say there are no obstacles … but it’s not that cut and dried, Liam.”

Liam let out a soft laugh. “You mean because of the divorce and making the statement?” No, that was only but a small part of it, but she nodded anyway. “I don’t mind keeping things between us for now until that’s figured out … but we can still explore this. We can take things day by day … I just want to know we’re on the same page.”

Amara chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. “Day by day … we’ll see what happens.”

Liam smiled as he pulled her back to him and kissed her again. “And you’re sure you can’t stay?” he whispered against her lips.

“Liam—”

Cutting off her protest with another kiss, Liam shifted to roll her onto her back. As the kiss deepened, his thigh pressed between her legs, and she arched into him as she let out a quiet moan against his lips. He smiled as he slowly drew back. “Not so eager to leave now, are you?” he quipped in a whisper.

Amara stared up at him, amazed at how easily he could get her to surrender; she curled her hands around the back of his neck, drawing his lips back to hers, but before they could meet, they were interrupted by the sound of Liam’s phone ringing. A sigh mixed with a disapproving grumble escaped him as he rolled away from her and reached for his phone on the nightstand.

As Liam answered his call, Amara took it as her cue; she sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet around her. Hearing her move, Liam glanced over, watching her rise from the bed to gather her discarded gown from the floor before disappearing into the bathroom.

A few moments later, Amara reappeared just as Liam ended his call. He sighed as he rolled to his side and propped himself up on his arm. “That was Rashad. My day was supposed to be free, but it seems the council wants to have a meeting.”

Amara nodded. “Ok.”

Standing and holding the blanket around his hips with one hand, Liam’s other hand curled around her waist. “Thank you for deciding to come up for the festival … I’m really glad you did.”

Amara smiled halfheartedly. “Me too …”

Liam leaned down, kissing her. “What’s your schedule like this week?”

“I’m not sure,” Amara shrugged.

“I want to make plans to see you,” Liam said with a coy smile.

“Liam, you haven’t made the announcement. We still need to be careful …”

“I know. And we will be,” Liam nodded before kissing her again. “I’ll give you a call later and we can figure something out?”

Amara stared at him for a moment before letting out a quiet breath. “Ok,” she nodded.

Liam leaned down, kissing her once more before she turned and headed for the door; he watched her open it and cautiously peer out before slipping into the hallway, closing the door behind her. He flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as his mind began to fill with thoughts. He was unable to contain his smile as he let out a breath.

It seemed things might finally be falling into place.

****

After arriving back at the hotel, Amara stared at the floor as she rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite. When it came to a stop, the ding as the doors slid open pulled her from her daze; she let out a breath before stepping into the hallway.

When Amara entered the suite, she furrowed her brows when she was met with silence. “Imogen?” she called out as she shut the door. She dropped her bag to the floor and looked around. “Imogen?” she called louder. When there was still no answer, panic washed over her as she rushed down the hall; she peered into one of the guest rooms to find it empty before moving to the other, which was also empty. Amara ran back down the hall towards the other. “Imogen?” she shouted.

Suddenly, Daniel appeared as he stepped out of the bathroom. “Hey! You’re back.”

Amara continued to look around. “Where is she? Where’s Imogen?”

“Went for some fresh air. I was going to go too, but I figured I’d wait here for you.” Daniel knitted his brows as he took in the worry in the sound of her voice and the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Amara let out a shuddered breath as she dropped her head into her hand. Without warning, tears began to fall.

“Whoa, what the hell happened?” Daniel asked as he rushed toward her; he guided her to the sofa and lowered them both down. Amara shook her head as she took in a breath, attempting to calm herself. “Something happened with you two last night …”

Closing her eyes, Amara hesitated for a moment before she nodded. She didn’t need to go into detail; he knew. “He thinks … it’s a second chance for us,” she said through a hitched breath.

“Well … maybe it can be.”

Amara looked at him. “How? He’s not … he’ll never …” She trailed off as she dropped his gaze, pressing her palms against her temples. “What am I going to do?” she whispered.

“You need to talk to him, buttercup. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re falling apart at the seams, and now you’re becoming paranoid,” Daniel said, referring to her panic just moments before. “This isn’t fair to either of you … but particularly him. The sooner you talk to him, especially now, the better.”

Amara shook her head. “I don’t … know how,” she choked out. “I don’t even know … how to bring it up.”

“I can’t tell you how to do that,” Daniel said. “All I can tell you is that you’re not doing yourself or him any favors by continuing to put it off. No, it’s probably not going to be easy, but I don’t think there is any right way to go about it … you just need to do it.” She knew he was right. The problem was that it was so much easier said than done. She took in another breath and slowly let it out as she wiped her cheeks. “Are you alright?”

Amara rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know …” She looked at him again. “I need to get in the shower, but can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Call Imogen and tell her to come back. I want to take today … and just …” Amara sighed.

“I get it,” Daniel nodded. “I’ll call her.”

****

After spending the remainder of the day having some very much-needed quality time that helped put her at ease, Amara walked inside her bedroom and changed into her pajamas. She sat on her bed and opened her laptop, checking her email. In the middle of typing out a reply to one, her phone rang with an incoming video call.

It was Liam.

Amara took a breath before answering. When his face popped up on the screen, he smiled. “Hey, you.”

“Hi,” Amara responded.

“What are you up to?”

“Replying to some emails. What about you?”

“Relaxing.”

“How’d your meeting go?” Amara asked.

“Well, that’s one of the reasons I’m calling. I have to meet with Rashad again tomorrow because the council wants a plan in place to announce the divorce …”

Amara’s brows furrowed. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“It kind of does. I want you to be there.”

“Liam, not only do I not need to be there, I can’t be there,” Amara shook her head.

“Yes, you can.”

“There’s a reason I asked Daniel to take the lead on that for you,” Amara countered. “Set aside the obvious conflict of interest—”

“That only you and I know about,” Liam interrupted with a subtle smirk. “Well, and Daniel, Drake, and Riley, but we don’t have to worry about them saying anything.”

Amara gave him a look. “I can’t be a part of that when I’m working for Auvernal.”

“Which is exactly why I want you there,” Liam said. “You’re working directly with Bradshaw, which gives you insight that I don’t have. I know this is going to have him reeling because it’s going to put a damper on the whole betrothal idea.”

Amara subtly stiffened. “I … I thought … you said you didn’t want that.”

“I don’t,” Liam stated. “Perhaps you can speak with him in the morning … feel him out to see how important that aspect of his terms truly is since that’s where his issue is going to be; no marriage means no heir, which means no betrothal. If it’s really a deal breaker for him or he’s not willing to make some kind of compromise, then there’s really no need to continue the alliance talks and no reason for me to be tip-toeing around making this announcement for the sake of not upsetting mister manchild. Personally, the sooner I can make the announcement, the better.”

“Well, is there even a point in me talking to him?” Amara asked.

Liam’s brows knitted. “What do you mean?”

“Are you still on the fence about the alliance in general? Because if you’re not truly considering it, what’s the point of me potentially riling Bradshaw up with a conversation regarding his stipulations?”

“Truthfully … I’m still up in the air.” Liam sighed. “I still don’t know if I can trust them, Amara … regardless of their terms.” He could see a bit of hesitation in her expression as she dropped his gaze and nodded. “Listen, you did your part in getting the people to see Auvernal differently. The rest is up to me. If this falls through, I’ll make sure he knows that you did the job he asked you to do. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what is bothering you?” Liam asked.

Everything. “Nothing … we just … we both said that we think he might know something about our past and that’s why he may have hired me,” Amara said. It was a valid concern, just not anywhere near the top of her list; she was only using it as an excuse to not say what was really bothering her. “I just don’t want to make him more suspicious.”

Liam shook his head. “First, I still don’t think he knows anything concrete because as I said before, he would have played his cards already if he did. Second, even if he did, so what? Is that really something we need to worry about now?” he asked rhetorically. “Once the announcement is made, our past is not going to matter.”

Amara closed her eyes; if she didn’t know better, the conviction in his voice would make her believe him. But Liam had no idea how wrong he was.

“Ok?”

Opening her eyes, Amara met his gaze again. You need to tell him. Just tell him. She swallowed thickly … then nodded. “Ok,” she whispered, feeling herself deflate inside at her lie. She couldn’t do this over the phone.

“So … will you come tomorrow with Daniel?”

Amara let out a quiet breath. “… I’ll be there,” she nodded.

“Thank you,” Liam smiled.

A noise from down the hall pulled her attention, and she glanced up before looking back at the screen. “I, uh … I don’t mean to cut this short, but I have to finish going through these emails.”

Liam nodded. “What time should I expect you and Daniel so I can let Rashad know?”

“I’ll let you know for sure after I call Bradshaw, but probably early afternoon.”

“Ok,” Liam smiled. “And … maybe we can make some plans for after?”

“We’ll, uh … we’ll see …”

“I promise, I’ll make it worth your while,” Liam chuckled with a wink.

A sad smile played on Amara’s lips as she stared at him through the screen; he seemed so happy, and he was being so open with her about his intentions and what he wanted … but she wasn’t doing the same. “I’ll see you tomorrow …”

“Goodnight,” Liam smiled.

“G’night.”

*******

The following morning, after spending 45 minutes after breakfast trying to clear her thoughts for her forthcoming conversation, Amara sat on the bed in her room. Taking in a deep breath, she slowly exhaled as she tapped the name in her contacts before placing the call on speaker.

“Ms. Onasis,” Bradshaw answered after only one ring.

“King Bradshaw.”

“How is your time in Cordonia faring?”

“It’s … good.” Amara cleared her throat. “I wanted to let you know that I have a meeting later today with King Liam and a member of his council to discuss … Auvernal’s bid for the alliance.”

“Oh?” Bradshaw questioned. “And how is the bid looking?”

“Well, your approval ratings with the Cordonian people have taken a turn for the better.”

“I knew hiring you was a good move,” Bradshaw said proudly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me? I have a golf game to prepare for.”

Amara rolled her eyes. “No. I had some … questions before going into this meeting.”

“What questions?”

“Pertaining to the alliance … and your terms.”

A brief silence settled between them on the phone. “Is King Liam using you to try and get information out of me?” he asked, sounding almost amused.

“No,” Amara lied, trying to think quickly. “I only ask because … of rumors regarding one particular aspect.”

“What rumors?” Bradshaw grumbled.

“I’ve heard through whispers that the Cordonian people, while feeling differently toward Auvernal, are having … concerns regarding rumors they’ve heard of a possible betrothal condition in the terms.”

A sardonic laugh escaped Bradshaw. “And why would they concern themselves with that?”

“They feel … that it’s archaic and unnecessary.”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t expect feebleminded commoners to understand the importance of such a thing.”

“You can’t call these people feebleminded if you want them to put their trust in you, Bradshaw,” Amara ground out.

“It’s not as if they’re going to hear me say it,” Bradshaw scoffed. “And regarding their concerns, again, I wouldn’t expect them to understand the importance of such a tradition. Betrothals between kingdoms have been happening for centuries. And I’m sure King Liam was expecting those particular provisions.”

“And … what if King Liam wasn’t too keen on the idea?”

Bradshaw let out a breath. “And what exactly do you know about that, Ms. Onasis?”

“Nothing,” Amara lied. “I’m just thinking that he doesn’t … they don’t even have an heir to go into such an agreement with … so I could understand if they felt that particular stipulation wasn’t necessary to have in the terms.”

“They don’t have one yet. It is Liam’s duty to his country to produce at least one heir to his throne. It’ll only be a matter of time.”

“Ok, but—”

“Enough,” Bradshaw bit out. “The terms, which will stay exactly as they are, are none of your damn concern and have absolutely nothing to do with what you were hired for. Stick to your expertise, and I’ll stick to mine. And Ms. Onasis …”

Amara clenched her jaw. “Yes?”

“Do not try to cross me to get information for King Liam again.” Without another word, he abruptly ended the call.

****

Later that afternoon, Amara walked inside the palace with Daniel for their meeting; they followed Bastien up the grand staircase and down the hall toward Liam’s study. When they approached the door, Bastien opened it, gesturing for them to go inside. “He’s on a call. He’ll be with you shortly,” he smiled.

“Thank you, Bastien,” Amara nodded.

As the door shut, Daniel plopped onto the sofa in the seating area of Liam’s study as Amara glanced around. After their night together, the pieces of their past that she had been trying to force herself not to think about had been erupting to the surface. Since her arrival back in Cordonia, she had nothing but bouts of déjà vu, feeling as though, in some ways, she was reliving her story with Liam all over again. And what they shared in Valtoria the other night was exactly how things had begun before, making it even more difficult to continue to keep those memories locked away.

Amara’s eyes fell on the King’s desk; she approached it, running her fingers along its mahogany surface.

As Constantine and the other members of Liam’s council bid their goodbyes to one another after their meeting had come to an end, Amara and Liam subtly locked eyes. She dropped his gaze when she saw his lips start to quirk up in a smile, feeling her own form.

In the few weeks since their first night together in Valtoria, the two couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. They shared moments during the day anywhere they could: his study, staterooms, and offices. They snuck off from events to coat closets and bathrooms, even the SUVs when they found themselves alone in one. And at night, they were tangled in the sheets inside her hotel room or his chambers.

They found themselves enraptured with one another, never satiated, always wanting more. Neither one realized how deep they were truly falling. They already had feelings going into it, but those feelings were flourishing into something neither one imagined, cloaking every rational thought.

“Well, things have really taken a turn for the better,” Constantine spoke, pulling both their attention to him as the others filed out of the room.

Liam grinned. “They’ve been going well.”

“That’s an understatement,” Constantine smiled. “Your approval ratings have skyrocketed, Liam.” He turned to Amara. “Hiring you couldn’t have been a smarter move on our part.”

“Just doing my job, sir,” Amara smiled.

“You’ve gone above and beyond. Liam has a lot to thank you for.”

Amara could see Liam in her peripheral vision, rubbing his hand over his mouth to stop his laugh, and she suppressed her own, knowing exactly what he was thinking: he was thanking her in more ways than anyone knew. “I appreciate that, sir,” she nodded.

Constantine’s eyes dropped to the charm on her necklace when he noticed her fidgeting with it. “I always see you wearing that,” he smiled. “What is it?”

“Oh, uh …” Amara glanced down, resting the charm on her thumb so he could see. “A compass, sir.”

“Very nice,” Constantine nodded. “Well, I suppose I should get going. I have to meet Regina for lunch.”

Liam followed his father to the door as Amara lingered behind; she watched as he bid him goodbye, and when Constantine exited the study, Liam shut and locked the door before turning to face her with a playful smirk. He approached her and curled his hands around her waist as he leaned down, capturing her lips in his. “I’ve been wanting to do that for the past hour and a half.”

“Like you didn’t get enough last night,” Amara quipped.

Liam shook his head with an impish smile. “It’s never enough,” he whispered before kissing her again, more insistently this time.

Amara drew back. “You have a meeting to prepare for.”

“I have 15 minutes,” Liam countered before his lips were back on hers. As their tongues curled together, he walked her backward toward his desk; when he sat in his chair, he pulled her down so she was straddling his lap.

One of Liam’s hands tangled in her hair as the other disappeared underneath the skirt of her dress. He let out a low, mischievous laugh against her lips when his hand dipped beneath the thin piece of lace, effortlessly sliding his finger against her. “Been thinking about me?” he teased through a husky whisper.

“Liam …” Amara softly gasped before she kissed him again. As he continued to tease her, her fingers fumbled against the buttons of his shirt before peeling it open. She ran her hands across his taut chest before they dropped to his belt; a moment later, he raised his hips, sliding both his pants and boxers down as she pulled her dress off and dropped it to the floor.

As Liam lowered himself back into the chair, he let out a groan when he felt her hand wrap around him, feeling himself swell even more in her grasp; he drew her mouth back to his, kissing her fervently as she stroked him. A moment later, what little patience he had was gone, and he slightly raised her hips, pulling the lace fabric to the side before shifting her forward; she moved her hands, gripping his shoulders as she lowered herself down, drawing a moan from both of them as he filled her.

“Fuck,” Liam hissed.

Amara rocked against him as he caressed her body. His one hand slid up to her hair and he tugged her head back; he leaned forward, trailing his lips and teeth down the exposed column of her neck, being careful not to leave any marks.

As their whispered moans grew louder and their breaths mingled, both nearing the edge of release, Amara suddenly slowed her pace when Liam’s desk phone began to ring. He pressed his hands into the small of her back, pulling her forward and urging her to continue as he ignored the phone until it stopped ringing, but it began again almost immediately after.

Liam leaned forward, picking up the receiver as Amara stilled. “Yes?” As Bastien spoke on the other end, an impish grin crossed Liam’s lips; he shifted Amara forward as he bucked his hips, pressing her face into his neck to keep her quiet, and clenching his jaw to silence himself. “Thanks,” he quickly spoke before hanging up.

Amara began to laugh as she looked at him in surprise. “You can’t do that!” she admonished.

“Do what?” Liam feigned innocence with a playful smile. He stood from his chair, lifting her with him before laying her back across the desk as his hands gripped her waist. “They arrived for the meeting early, but I plan to finish you off first,” he smirked before driving back into her, ripping a moan from her throat as her back arched.

“Amara?” At the sound of Liam’s voice, she turned; he noticed the flush on her neck and cheeks as she met his gaze. “Are you alright?”

Seeing Liam staring at her, and feeling Daniel and Rashad’s curious eyes on her as well, Amara let out a breath and cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah …” she nodded as she stared at him. “I’m fine.”

Liam gestured for the seating area, and as Amara walked by him, he placed his hand on the small of her back. The subtle affectionate gesture caught her off guard; he never did that in the past in front of others because they had to keep what they were doing a secret, but he didn’t seem to feel that way now, doing it with both Daniel and Rashad there.

“How did your talk with Bradshaw go?” Liam asked as they all sat down.

Amara scoffed. “Well, he hung up on me if that tells you anything.” She looked at Liam, seeing his brows raised in surprise. “He’s not going to change his mind regarding the betrothal. He said as much. And he told me the provisions of the alliance were none of my business and that it was between you and him.”

Liam nodded, seemingly unfazed. “Well, I think that tells me everything I need to know.” He glanced at Rashad, who nodded in understanding and agreement. “Any alliance talks with Auvernal are officially off the table.”

“What?” Amara questioned, taken aback. “Just like that?”

“Yes,” Liam answered calmly. “I told you it was something I didn’t want, and I meant it. If he’s not willing to compromise, there’s no sense in wasting anyone’s time.”

As Liam and Rashad began discussing speaking to the rest of the council about the decision he just came to, Amara glanced over at Daniel; he gave her a subtle look, knowing what she was thinking.

With the alliance talks abruptly ending, her job was officially done. She was free to go home … but she knew she couldn’t.

“So, knowing this announcement has no bearing on anything between Cordonia and Auvernal, we need to figure out the next steps,” Liam said, pulling Amara’s attention back to him.

“The council is hoping to go about it … gently, so to speak,” Rashad explained. “They’re more concerned about the reaction from the people and they’re worried about the monarchy being seen as unstable.”

Amara glanced at Daniel, and he met her gaze, imperceptibly nodding in an understanding of the look on her face before looking at Liam. “I think your best bet would be to go into making the announcement with Madeleine at your side. You’ve shown over the last couple of years that the two of you are a united front, and although your marriage may be ending, that still needs to be the case. You need to show that this was a choice that wasn’t made lightly, one that you came to together, and that things between you are amicable.”

“Well, that won’t be difficult,” Liam said. “We did come to the decision together and we have nothing but respect for each other. I have no doubts that she would agree to be there with me to make the announcement.”

“You and Madeleine will have to get together and write up a statement to give,” Daniel suggested.

Liam nodded. “That will be no problem.”

“And you and Madeleine both need to be clear in letting them know that this does not affect your ability as their monarch,” Daniel added. “That your priority will always be your country and your people and they have nothing to worry about in regards to that, that Cordonia can still thrive regardless of your marital status. Just … level with them as much as you can. Address any concerns you know they will have, and allow time for them to ask questions if they want that you and Madeleine will answer together.”

“Is …” Amara trailed off as they all looked at her; she glanced at Daniel who gave her a nod to ask whatever she was about to. “Is Madeleine planning to stay on as some sort of council to you?” she asked as she looked at Liam.

“We’ve discussed some options for her,” Liam nodded. “But nothing is set in stone yet.”

“That would be something worth mentioning,” Daniel said, offering Amara a thankful smile for bringing it up. “Despite the divorce, that will show her support for you as a friend and monarch going forward. That you’re still somewhat of a team even though your relationship has changed.”

Liam nodded. “I’ll reach out to her tomorrow about all of this.”

“Once you have the statement ready, just let me know, and I’ll make the arrangements for a press conference,” Daniel said.

Liam smiled, tapping his thigh with his hand as he nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Amara couldn’t help but notice Liam’s eagerness to get this announcement over with. He didn’t seem worried at all about any reactions he may get; he looked almost elated. He only seemed focused on getting it done and moving forward. For her, the more it sunk in that he was making the announcement sooner rather than later, the more nervous she felt.

“Well, I think that’s all for me,” Rashad smiled as he stood. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again,” he said to Daniel as he extended his hand and shook his. “Liam,” he gave a nod as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Amara,” he smiled, kissing her cheek.

They all started toward the door, and once Rashad disappeared into the hallway, Liam stopped Amara. “Can you stay for a bit …”

Hearing the question, Daniel turned to look at her. He met his gaze, giving him a long look; he wasn’t sure if it was a silent plea for help or advice. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel,” he smiled before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

Daniel went with advice; Amara needed to talk to Liam, and if that meant forcing her hand to be alone with him, then so be it.

Amara stared at the wooden door, taking a breath before turning to face Liam; his hands were in his pockets as she met his gaze. They stared at one another for a long, silent moment, and she could feel that familiar pull towards him no matter how much she told herself to fight it. He offered a subtle smile as he walked towards her, lifting his arm; his hand pressed against the door behind her, and she looked up at him. She felt herself falling right back into that place they were two years ago, unable to get enough despite knowing there was so much more at stake.

When Liam leaned down, he paused a hairsbreadth from her lips, searching her eyes as he waited, seeking permission. Amara instinctively tilted her head and closed the distance between them, capturing his lips in hers as his other hand dropped down, locking the door.

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