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saiidahyunie · 1 month

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love me a little more

kim dahyun x f!reader

synopsis: you weren’t much of a romantic type, always telling yourself that the intimacy was too much—all of that changed when dahyun came around.

warnings: fluff ; implied smut ; steamy makeout sesh ; not proofread

a/n: wanted to challenge myself into writing a fic in one sitting (i failed ;-;) but i've been more motivated to get more sana and dahyun content going on my blog!

the rain was relentless. canceling your date night with dahyun that would’ve been a hefty price tag at the fancy restaurant was a fantastic idea.

once the rolling credits of avengers endgame had ended with the soft sound of a hammer smashing on another piece of metal signifying tony stark making his first ever suit, you shift your head to the other shoulder while you mindlessly shut off the tv in the living room.

your right arm is pinned down by dahyun, who was fast sleep with her head on your shoulder. she insisted that you and her have a movie night together instead of going out, and she was right considering the small pitter patter sounds of the raindrops hitting the window in the dimmed household calling for the much needed bedtime. what made this more funnier was how dahyun said that she’d stay up for the entirety of the movie—only to doze off before the last twenty or so minutes towards the end.

before your mind could surrender at the thought of just sleeping on the couch for the night, not that you had a problem with that anyway, it would be better to just use the remaining energy left to just breeze past the hallway and into the bedroom, so lightly stretch all of your muscles and body parts while sitting, letting out a soft cough that causes dahyun to cling onto your arm tightly.

“hey…” you whisper over her head, “want me to carry you?”

dahyun lets out a soft hum through her oversized hoodie as your other hand finds hers clinging to your shirt, you can’t help but chuckle at the way she’s acting while you brush the side of her hair, scratching her scalp that makes dahyun melt more into the fabric.

“okay, let me get up at least beb.”

managing to get up and move your arm a little bit from its captivity, you turn around to face dahyun who was still sitting down, now curled up into a small ball into the couch, enveloping her with your upper body as your arms hook around her back and legs, lifting her up her arms find your neck—and she’s a little more awake now than just a few moments ago.

“we’re a little more awake now huh?” you say as dahyun leans her head in to give you a kiss on the cheek, one of her many ways of appreciation since acts of service was your main love language while dahyun’s was physical touch. (gift giving was her first one technically)

the dark corridor was filled with the soft murmurs of dahyun singing somewhat of a song as you make it past the bedroom door, moving closer to the bed before setting her down gently. dahyun then tries to reach for the covers, but you stop her, waving a finger while you went ahead and did it for her yourself, patting down the comforter once she was all snuggled up.

you were about to go to the bathroom to wash up, only for your hand to be caught by hers stopping you from leaving.

“you okay?” you ask her, turning your body before sitting down on the bed closer to her.

dahyun lets the silence fall for just a moment before answering, “yeah. i’m okay.”

“i was just gonna wash up before coming back, do you need anything?”

“well…” dahyun mutters out with a pouty look on her face, “i just want you beside me, that’s all.”

your head dips down from the answer before softly smiling at her, it was late anyway and you were just keeping yourself away from the comfortable bed that was in front of you. washing up can come later in the morning—it was already midnight and the rain falling made it the perfect background noise to fall asleep instantly.

“okay,” you say while cupping dahyun’s cheek, looking at her in the eyes, entranced by the galaxy that lies behind those set of dark irises. “i’m tired anyway.”

a shifting movement fills the bed, and you’re spooning dahyun under the covers.

the feeling is so safe for the both of you, the radiating warmth encapsulating with the comforter cuddling away to your heart's content as your chin fins the crook of dahyun’s neck, planting a soft kiss alongside the line of her throat while your arms link around her waist, pulling her closer to you.

tiredness didn’t always guarantee an instant slumber.

you’re trying to fall asleep, eyes wide open as you let your mind ponder in the vast space of darkness, the only lightsource let alone sound is the faint whirr of the humidifier on the small seat next to the nightstand, the scent of apple cedarwood filling the small space on dahyun’s side of the bed for the next few minutes.

though it hasn’t been that long, all things considered.

moving your body under the sheets would only keep you up, and you didn’t know if dahyun was already fast asleep like earlier, so you don’t bother to ask or move, you’re just staying still as a log.

luckily, dahyun also couldn’t fall asleep right away, so you were glad that you weren’t the only one. she turns her body around to face you, laying on her side while your hands shift lower to the small of her back, meeting her hips. her hands creep up to the front of her body, fiddling with the loose cotton of your shirt while your chin nicks a little bit of her forehead.

“can’t sleep?” you say quietly enough for her to hear, and dahyun looks up.

“yeah, i don’t know why.”

“you managed to stay up for the majority of the movie only to doze off right at the end.” you laugh while dahyun taps your chest.

“it’s your fault for picking a three hour long movie in the first place!”

“who was the one who didn’t want to go out tonight?” you ask in a doubled down effort.

dahyun lets out a sound that is almost an ‘i’, but closes her parted lips in defeat knowing that you won the exchange of banter.

a chuckle leaves your nostrils as you pull dahyun more closely, pressing your lips to her forehead with your hands on her cheeks, the meaningfulness behind it bringing a softer side of you to the front stage.

“i love this.” dahyun mutters out, giddily, smiling between your fingers, “how could you be so good at love?”

you’re staring at her, eyes darting in competition with hers, studying the concaves of her face and lips, trying to find the next words to suffice an answer—nothing comes to mind.

you don’t need words to tell how you feel about someone. especially with dahyun.

a first action was all that was needed when you lean forward. your lips finally meet dahyun’s, the kiss deepening as she presses her face deeper against yours, the rush of breaths clashing against the open air. its like succumbing to an open wound, the way her lips just mesh perfectly together with yours, her fingers slide on the nape of your neck, and you’re trying to decide whether to pull away or not.

you don’t want to, but for a slight second you do—moving your body underneath the comforter, taking the high ground hovering on top of dahyun, staring at her.

her eyes don’t lie, her cheeks are rosy pink through the hindering light, her lips bruised, hair tousled a bit, and she’s breathing raggedly.

“baby,” you mumble out, “is there—”

“just kiss me.”

without thinking twice, you go back for more. indulging in the touches like you have before, but not like this. fighting with your lips—biting, gnawing, pulling the other till it gets swollen or bruised, it’s igniting a fire from within, and it’s the same for dahyun.

the real work truly begins when you shift to her jaw and cheeks, your hands join in on the fun by slipping underneath her hoodie, the unreal slim waist that dahyun possessed now being held by your fingertips as you continued to take your time leaving marks across the whole board.

her hands are buried in your hair as she seems to have a good read on your thoughts at this moment, parting her lips again for you. when you meet her level again, there’s a swipe of the tongue, first in your mouth, and a trade off for hers. she’s softly humming, the sound of her filling your mouth while you reach her breasts from underneath, fondling with them as you leave another trail of kisses against her neck.

“god.” dahyun gasps out, and you silence her with your mouth but with a little less sense of urgency than earlier. each exchange of kisses being softer, slower. you’re taking your time with your lover as the neediness creeps out and away in exchange for sleepiness.

a final smack of the lips before resting your forehead on top of hers for a brief moment, planting one more kiss on her cheek before laying down beside dahyun again, wrapping arms and legs—not wanting any sudden movements from this point on while sleeping.

“goodnight dub,” you mumble before kissing the top of her head, and she murmurs out another sound against your shirt before drifting off to sleep finally.

or so you thought.

a cloudy, rainy morning greets the room through the curtains, and dahyun is the first one to wake up.

there’s been a tousle in the sheets, but somehow her body is still next to yours surprisingly with your arms still linked around her—all arms and legs against each other.

she shifts over a little closer to your body, her arm across your waist, but the surface is a little bit peculiar to her feeling when her eyes flutter open to notice that the shirt that was on you from the night prior was off. what makes this all the more puzzling, was that her hoodie was off too, exposing her whole chest as well.

dahyun looks down at the small hint of marks that were on her neck and a little bit of her collarbone. she doesn’t remember how those got there in the first place and her curiosity got the better of her when she peeped under the covers; she was in her underwear, a more astute observation at that.

her mind lazes at the thought, and she just nestles into the upper portion of your chest, lightly rubbing the lines of your ribs like playing on a harp.

eventually, she ultimately decides to sit up from your arching arm, letting it fall on her hip while she rubs her eyes to get rid of the lingering sleepiness and the small crusty bits that nestle between the corner of your eyes.

you let out a monotone sound into the pillow next to dahyun as she pats your forearm as an acknowledgement, giggling while she leans over to your smushed face in the cushions, showering you with light kisses to get you going.

“dub,” you mutter into the fabric as the ends of her hair tickle the cuff of your ear. “don’t even think about getting up from bed…”

“i wasn’t!" she yells lightly. "besides, i’m hungry anyway.”

“mmmmmmmmmmm.” is the only sound that’s heard while dahyun flips her hair to the otherside, hand slithering underneath the covers before the pads of her fingertips dance away before lightly pinching your side, getting you even more awake now.

“hey! what was that for?!” you gasp out, lifting the upper half of your body from underneath the mountain of your thick blanket with one eye open, groaning dramatically before shoving your face more into the pillow.

dahyun can’t help but laugh at your mini temper tantrum, shaking your head into the pillow, and hitting the bed with your fists, she also sees the heels also kick up in retaliation as well.

she then gets on top of your back, placing more light-hearted kisses from behind your ear and down to your neck—dahyun’s favorite sensitive spots of your body whenever you two got more sunk in more private settings—this was no different.

you then roll her off your back, sitting up slightly while she couldn’t help herself to kiss you just a bit more, putting herself over you as your hand seamlessly finds the lower part of her jaw, thumb resting on her cheek. the feeling of it is so tender, and the sound of the rain hitting the window really sets the atmosphere altogether.

“did you take off my hoodie in the middle of the night?” she asks with her lips still stuck on yours.

“yeah, it got a little stuffy.” you reply, landing another kiss to her bottom lip, pulling on it slightly while you look up at her with puppy dog eyes. “i might have done a little bit more than that actually.”

“i figured.” dahyun says, pulling away even more, looking down at the small hints of marks across her neck and chest. “but i’m not complaining though.”

you’re looking at her lips, then the marks you mindlessly made while you slid off your shirt and her hoodie at some point during the middle of the night, but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself that time. now you’re biting your lip at her appearance. her beautiful, natural long black hair, bare face that looks even more alluring minus all the makeup (very minimally), her milky white skin with the hints of red marks all over, you want to do more damage—god you’ll pretty much will.

so you sit up, lips back on hers in record time, the kiss deepening by the second. her hands are moving in a frenzy, saliva being slid from both of your tongues, hearing the heavenly sounds come through in vibrations. your hand is through her hair, while the other is around her snatched waist.

the degree of elevation is then changed. you’re on top of her, and she’s below you. pulling away slightly as dahyun looks at you with longing eyes, the slight heaving from her chest, and she’s colored in a brilliant shade of pink—all for you. behind these walls and closed doors, where no one else sees, it’s perfect really.

“i think i have some unfinished business for you… the coffee can wait.” you say with a grin, the next thing dahyun sees is you lowering back, and she doesn’t even feel her underwear slip off from her body but your hands sliding up her legs to her hips.

she doesn’t fight the sounds coming out of her with the back of her hand.

the lighter of the stove clicks on the other end while you’re moving the pan back and forth with a set of scrambled eggs, humming along to a faint jazz song on your phone set to the left of you on the countertop.

you’re swaying slightly to the music when a pair of arms coat your waist, the cloth of your shirt getting rumpled underneath. dahyun’s head is laid on your back, eyes closed but with a beaming happy smile, all giddy and everything—a clear indication that you definitely gave her some of that morning magic just ten minutes ago.

“go ahead and sit down, dub,” you say, nicking your head back slightly. “i’m almost done here.”

she can only hum in response, kissing your back before she gingerly walks to the other end of the small kitchen island, still eepy and more than relaxed. you turn off the stove with the plate of scrambled eggs showered with some garlic salt and scallions, the other small plate in your hand with a stack of toast while you slide it over across.

feeding her a spoonful of scrambled egg while you’re munching through a slice of toast, dahyun’s face melts from the taste and cooking that you were so skilled at. you can’t help fall in love a little more at the sight of her being cozy and homey on days like these.

“it’s so cute when you can’t talk after we have sex.” you say out of nowhere, the last bite of egg passing your throat with ease. dahyun looks at you with deadlocked eyes, before she lightly punches you in the shoulder, acting all hurt while laughing. “i’m kidding! it’s still funny though.”

“i’m still waiting for my coffee.” she says, eyeing over the espresso machine that’s unplugged, with the two capsules for you and her both. “i’m leaving a one star review on yelp and not giving you a tip.”

you roll your eyes, before she pulls that eye smile of hers, kissing you on the cheek as her way of apologizing. blinking twice before you peck her lips and cheek twice before you fulfill her request. “you got it miss kim.”

#hyunie #dahyun #twice x reader #kpop x reader #dahyun x reader #kim dahyun #kpop imagines #twice imagines #twice dahyun #twice fluff #twice smut #dahyun twice #dahyun x you #twice x you

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unhonestlymirror · 4 months

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I am horrified by how often I see people writing, "Well, we shouldn't take Holocaust into account when talking about Israel-Palestine war." Of course we SHOULD, and that's why:

"October 7 is getting rewritten and certain social media users are an active of the campaign to erase the atrocities.

I was barely awake on October 7th when news of the atrocities that were committed by Hamas began to trinkle in, horror by horror. With sleep still in my eyes, I had hoped it was a nightmare I could erase by burying my face in pillows and returning to slumber, but alas, reality was insistent. Hamas had butchered over 1,200 people, amongst them infants, pregnant women, the handicapped, and the elderly. Even dogs were not spared.

But Hamas didn’t just murder them in cold blood, they had tortured, raped, desecrated their bodies, and took hostages. Their depravity was limitless. And they were so proud of their crimes that they used GoPro cameras to record them, later releasing the sickening spectacles to the public as a form of psychological terror. Add to that the live streams, cell phone recordings, and CCTV camera footage, and you’ll probably have the most documented massacre in history—with a reported 60,000 video clips collected.

I’ve seen some of these videos, including those not circulating quite so widely in public. They will haunt me for the rest of my life—and that falls far short than the 47 minute “film” shown to select journalists and diplomats worldwide, a number of whom broke down and/or fell ill during the screening.

But as shocking as all of this deranged butchery was — which was entirely the intention — what stunned me in the aftermath is the world’s reaction.

Putting aside disputes of land and politics, it was jarring to hear such a blatant reframing of narrative. It started with calling Hamas the “resistance” and justifying the unjustifiable. A number of BLM chapters had put out “heroic” images of Hamas terrorists descending on parachutes. I half-expected them to release action figures of Hamas fighters too. Maybe they did?

And then came the "BUTs." Sure, some folks condemned Hamas, but it was always followed by a "BUT," justifying the unjustifiable. I've been asked, ad nauseam, "What would you do in their situation?" Well, my response remains steadfast: not commit random acts of murder, torture, and kidnapping. Call me old-fashioned. (For the record I’ve called many colorful words for my stance, but oddly that was never one of them).

It was a wake-up call for many, especially those of us in the global Jewish community. Overnight, the illusion of safety shattered, much like the dreams of anyone who's binge-watched a horror series alone at night. But now we were all collectively trapped in that nightmare, and couldn’t wake up no matter how hard with pitched.

The history of the Holocaust is taught in many schools around the world. “Never forget” and “never again” are sentiments that are echoed within that curriculum. Yet, while some might scoff at the persistent advocacy for Holocaust education, insisting that it’s hitting them over the head, a nationwide survey in 2020 reveals that the under-40 crowd seems to have missed the memo. Shockingly, one in ten respondents haven’t even heard of the word “Holocaust,” let alone being aware that as many as 6 million Jews perished in it.

Further, nearly a quarter of those questioned said they believed the Holocaust was a myth, had been exaggerated or that they weren’t sure. Meanwhile in Canada, one in five young people (under 34) either hasn't heard of the Holocaust or isn't sure what it is. And in Britain, one in twenty adults flat-out deny that it ever took place. Ah, the privilege of blissful ignorance.

Most who underestimate the number of Jews killed in Holocaust have neutral or warm feelings toward Jews.

But it's not just ignorance; there's an entire industry that has been propped up and dedicated to Holocaust denial, complete with books, “movies,” and groups. To make matters worse, alarmingly, fewer Holocaust survivors are around to share their firsthand accounts and counteract the flames of denialism.

Nearly half of the 1000 people surveyed had stated that they’ve seen Holocaust denial or distortion posts on social media or elsewhere online.

I’ve always thought that denials of genocide—such as the Holocaust —were something that happened over time, with history slipping away and being re-written.

However, I never expected to be observing this in real time.

While initially the so-called “resistance” was celebrated by a subset of society, this soon turned into full-fledged denials of Hamas’ actions on Oct 7. Despite overwhelming evidence in the form of videos captured and shared by Hamas themselves and shared on Telegram channels and elsewhere, I would read and hear people claiming that they had only targeted Israeli military. Absurd claims emerged using supposedly ‘leaked’ footage where an Israeli helicopter shoots at Nova music festival goers. That video was viewed over 30 million times on X alone. The video, which was actually originally shared by the IDF on Oct 9, was showing their attacks on specific Gazan targets—certainly NOT indiscriminate bombings of music festival attendees in Israel. (Here’s a great thread that details how this piece of disinformation spread and geolocation information that further confirms that the claim is fake).

I’ve heard countless denials of the rapes of women (and men), despite overwhelming evidence in the form of physical evidence, forensics, and a number of witness testimonies. Women’s rights groups, meanwhile, remained silent—thus offering a vacuum for denialists to fill. Proponents of “me too” also stayed silent. Worse, the University of Alberta Sexual Assault Centre’s director signed an open letter calling Hamas perpetrating “sexual violence” an “unverified accusation.” It took UN Women nearly two months to issue a lukewarm condemnation of the brutal attacks. “We are alarmed by the numerous accounts of gender-based atrocities and sexual violence during those attacks,” they wrote, following a letter writing campaign urging them to speak up. Better late than never though, right?

The roughly 40 dead babies claim was debunked as a lie. At least that’s what people on social media now declare as fact, citing a Haaretz investigation.

“Haaretz investigation EXPOSES all the ISRAELI LIES from October 7th just like I predicated (sic),” reads the post of one particularly large disinformation account.

These claims persisted despite Haaretz directly addressing that post and calling it “blatant lies” and insisting that it “absolutely no basis in Haaretz’s reporting.”

The denials continued regardless of the fact that a group of 200 forensic pathologists from all over the world had confirmed that babies were indeed murdered and that some babies were found decapitated, though it was unclear whether this was done before or after death. First responders also corroborated that they witnessed beheaded infants. Regardless of decapitation, these were babies, murdered.

The forensic pathologists also confirmed that humans were executed, bound and burned alive. Israeli police have over 1,000 statements related to the attack.

When some of the hostages were released, Hamas supporters claimed that the hostages enjoyed being held by them, that they hardly wanted to leave. That this was like a pleasant vacation for them, that’s all. Like sipping piña coladas by the beach. In fact, they would state that they were more concerned about their safety in Israeli hands. They even concocted stories of love affairs between a hostage who was shot in the leg and a Hamas captor. A sick and twisted take on reality where up is down, cats are dogs, and denial is truth. They dismissed the reality that many of these hostages watched their loved ones get murdered in front of them, and still had relatives being held in captivity. The hostages were also administered Clonazepam by Hamas, a mood-enhancing tranquilizing drug, before handing them over to the Red Cross, so that they would appear “happy.”

Meanwhile, the Yale Daily News published a correction of an opinion column stating that the “allegations had not been substantiated.”

The denials go on and on, and I can’t help but feel like I’m watching a version of Holocaust denial, except this time it’s happening in real time—not years after the fact. And this time, it has a Wi-Fi connection and a social media account.

The conditions for this were ripe. Moral relativism is why just several weeks ago, Gen Z embraced Bin Laden's 'Letter to America.' It has been building up for years across college campuses, a breeding ground for ideologies that support violent means to achieve political gains.

The perceived power dynamics play a role here too. In the eyes of many, the Israelis are seen as a superpower whereas the Palestinians, and by extension Hamas, are seen as underdogs. In their view, the underdog is always right because it is the victim, and the “power” is the oppressor. So how can the oppressor be a victim?

Israelis, despite the majority of the population being Mizrahi Jews, as well as 20% Arabs (who were also victims on Oct 7), have been framed as “white colonizers,” vs the Palestinians who are seen as “POC” in the context of this conflict. Never mind that Jews, including Ashkenazi Jews, can be traced back to the land through DNA, archaeological evidence, and historical documents.

An overall distrust for media is another factor, which has resulted in individuals taking the word of random influencer accounts as gospel over traditional media outlets. According to Gallup polls, Americans’ trust in media is near a record low. Only 34% of US adults have a “great deal” or “fair amount” of confidence as of 2022. This is a major hindrance to our sensemaking abilities.

And then, of course, there’s cognitive dissonance. When a group identifies so closely with the perpetrator and they commit heinous acts, confronting that fact happens to be uncomfortable. So, in an attempt to reduce that discomfort, they rationalize or deny the evidence. This means that they accept only evidence that supports their existing beliefs, while placing unreasonable demands on the other side.

But none of these factors would have gained as much traction if it weren’t for something that didn’t exist during the Holocaust: social media. This is the engine that helps drives this real-time historical revisionism and denialism. According to 2021 data from Pew Research, over 70% of Americans get their news via social platforms. A Reuters Institute report from 2023 found that 30% of respondents use social media as the main way to get their news.

We have a society that consumes sound-bites of information, both truth and lies (as well as lies based on grains of truth).

Social media algorithms—combined with human nature—tend to amplify outrageous untruths, which spread widely. Corrections, never make it as far as the original lie. They are just a faint hum.

Throughout the Israeli-Gaza war, we’ve seen AI generated images and bots used to paint a specific narrative—for evocative, emotional effect. But technologically sophisticatication isn’t a prerequisite for painting false narratives. Many “influencers” have taken to using existing images or videos and attaching misleading headlines to them—including sharing content that captures events in Syria while presenting it as taking place in Gaza. These networks of influencers have large reach, and can turn even the most blatant lie into a revisionist truth.

Researchers for Freedom House, a non-profit human right advocacy group, found that generally at least 47 governments have used commentators to manipulate online discussions in their favor, either via humans or bots. They’ve also recruited influencers to help spread false and misleading content, and have created fake websites that mimic actual media publications. Then there’s always Russia’s propaganda arm RT, and various other publications like Al Jazeera and Quds who have direct ties to Hamas and/or other Islamic regimes.

All of this has contributed to narrative confusion, and the erasure of unspeakable acts of brutality, and the denial of the facts of October 7, right before our very eyes.

If we cannot even share a common reality, how can have any hope of resolving anything?

“Never again” is happening now."

#jews #israel palestine war #hamas attack #russia finances hamas

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katelynnwrites · 2 months

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Sydney's Little Liebe | Sydney Lohmann x Child!Reader

warnings: not proof read but i promise you it's fluffy

word count: 900

summary: the very first time your favourite tante meets you, part of Sydney's Little Liebe

a/n: look at that! i've upgraded my game to making my own gifs 😂

You’re only a couple hours old when you meet your Tante Syd.

Of all your Tantes, she is the first to meet you.

In fact, other than Momma and all the medical staff, she is the very first person you meet.

Your Momma is absolutely exhausted after having you but she texts Sydney a photo of you nonetheless.

The midfielder has just finished a gym session when she sees the photo, as well as the caption, ‘Look who’s here….Do you want to meet her?’

You’re all red in the photo but you look to be sleeping peacefully. There’s a pink blanket swaddling you and your face is kinda squashed but Sydney is positively sure she’s never seen anything cuter.

She had known you were due to be born any moment but she didn't think that today would be the day.

With one hand already throwing her belongings back into her bag, she uses her other hand to reply to your Momma, telling her that she’s already on her way.

It’s not even twenty minutes later that your Tante's knocking on the door of Momma’s hospital room.

She had only stopped to pick up a bouquet of flowers and to rub her hands with a liberal amount of hand sanitizer, the bottle being conveniently located at the hospital elevator lobby.

Your Momma says to come in and Sydney pushes open the door.

‘Oh.’ She breathes as she sees you in your bassinet.

The blonde is not even aware that she’s crossing the room until she is right by your side.

You’re awake and less red now, more of a pink really and Sydney gently touches your hand.

She jumps when you close your hand around her finger, her heart beating fast.

‘Hi…’ She murmurs, completely and utterly taken by you.

Your Momma laughs, knowing that you have worked your charm on the midfielder and that she’s definitely going to spoil you silly.

Sydney takes you in for another long moment, looking at how tiny you are and how you already have the beginnings of fine hair growing on your head.

You look so serious, with your wide eyes and she can’t help but cry a little.

‘She’s entirely perfect. You’ve made the most perfect baby on Earth.’ She chokes out, to your Momma.

Walking over, she places a delicate kiss onto her fellow Bayern Munich player’s forehead and passes her the flowers.

‘She’ll have a lot of people looking out for her. Honestly, there is no way you’ll be able to keep our team away from her once they find out she's been born, especially Glo but I am here for you okay? I’m looking out for you. Anything you need, anytime you need it, just let me know. I will be there.’ Sydney promises.

‘Thank you Syd. That means more to me than you will ever know.’

Your Momma’s voice is soft and slightly tearful. She reaches for the midfielder’s hand and squeezes it before smiling, ‘Do you want to hold her?’

Sydney’s bottom lip trembles, ‘Really?’

‘Of course really.’ Your Momma tells her, slowly getting out of the hospital bed and picking you up.

The blonde remains motionless, staring at you with nothing short of awe.

Momma chuckles and quietly asks her to sit down.

So Sydney mechanically does but her hazel eyes never leave you.

‘I-I don’t know how to carry a baby. I’ve never held one before.’ The midfielder nervously stammers.

’You’ll do alright Syd, just make sure to support her head.’ Your Momma reassures her.

Then she transfers you into your Tante’s waiting arms.

Sydney releases a shaky breath. You are far lighter than she expects and she keeps her arms steady so as to not jostle you.

By cradling you to her chest, she gets an up close look of your little features.

‘She’s beautiful.’ The blonde murmurs.

‘You’re so precious.’ She whispers to you, brushing her finger across your cheek.

She makes sure to do as your Momma asked, supporting your head in the crook of her elbow.

You wiggle in her hold and scrunch your nose up, making her laugh.

‘I’m your Tante Syd and when you’re a bit bigger, I promise you that we’re going to have so much fun. I promise, Little Liebe.’

Your Momma giggles, ‘Little Liebe is cute and I know I’ve been referring to her as it for a while but don’t you want to know what her name really is?’

‘Oh so you finally decided on one?’ She teases.

Momma rolls her eyes, ‘Yes, yes I did and while I didn’t use any of your suggestions….’

Your Tante pouts, ‘Not even Sydney? What’s wrong with my name?’

‘No and that’s just it, it’s your name but…I did the next best thing. Her middle name is Tilly. Short for your middle name, Matilda.’

Sydney inhales sharply.

She’d tried so hard to keep her tears at bay earlier but now she’s completely unable to.

Your Momma takes a photo as the blonde emotionally presses a kiss onto your forehead.

‘I’m going to be the very best Tante in the world for you. I’m gonna buy you so many presents, I'm going to teach you how to play football with your Momma and get you all the ice creams you want when you're older. Just you wait Little Liebe because you and I? We're going to be best friends.’

German Translations:

tante - aunty

Little Liebe - Little Love

#sydney lohmann #sydney lohmann x reader #sydney lohmann imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #dfb frauen #gerwnt #fcb frauen #woso fanfics #katelynnwrites

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savventeen · 9 months

Text

you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.

#svtsource #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fic #seungkwan x y/n #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #savv writes #savv fics #in my queue world

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stevesbipanic · 3 months

Text

@steddielovemonth Day 2: Love is protection ❤️😉 @steddieas-shegoes

Mild smut under the cut

"Mmm, Eddie, fuck please," Steve moaned biting his lip to try and stay quiet, they hadn't exactly told Eddie's uncle yet. He'd been climbing through Eddie back window for weeks now, he almost ripped his jeans last night. It wasn't like they thought Wayne wouldn't accept them, he loved Steve and he knew Eddie was gay. But the fun of sneaking around hadn't quite worn off left, only Robin knew because movie nights were boring if they couldn't cuddle, plus Steve couldn't not tell his soulmate.

"Please what, baby, you need something?" Eddie responded teasingly. Steve would've glared at him if his fingers weren't dipping under Steve's waistband. "Lemme just grab a condom, sweetness." Robin liked to remind them about the news despite not wanting to know exactly where the condom would be going.

Eddie pulled open the bedside drawer, pulling out an empty box. "We finished that one this morning, did you not buy another one?"

Eddie looked at him confused, "But we never run out." Now it was Steve's turn at being confused. "Eddie, it's only a ten pack, of course we run out."

"But there's always condoms in here."

Steve's eyes widened, "There's always refills and you're not buying them?" He says slowly, connecting the dots faster than Eddie. "Eds, either the tooth fairy picked up a new hobby or your uncle has been refilling your fucking drawer," he explained flustered and definitely no longer in the mood.

Down the hall they could hear movement in the kitchen, Wayne clearly awake for dinner before work. They quickly got dressed and decided to face the music.

"Hey Wayne, hi Mr Clarke," Steve said sheepishly as if he'd been here the whole time and hadn't snuck in twenty minutes earlier.

"Steve, I've told you you can call me, Scott, Eds does."

"Right, Scott."

Eddie was looking so red looking at his uncle.

"Wayne?" He strangled out, "Have you been buying me condoms?"

"Protection is important, Eddie, your dear Robin keeps me updated."

"You've been talking about our sex life with Robin!"

Steve accepted the plate of food from Scott, sitting down to eat, might as well see this through now.

"Who did you think was buying them?"

"I thought it was a big box!"

"I'd put them on your bed, did they walk from the drawer?"

Steve had now started giggling, he loved his boyfriend but he could be oblivious when he wanted to be. Oh, he loved his boyfriend.

Eventually, Eddie calmed down enough to sit through dinner, and later, after they'd said good night to his uncles and were back in bed, Steve cuddled into his side.

"I love you, by the way, even if you think a condom fairy exists." Steve felt Eddie's grip tighten.

"Did you really tell me that you love me for the first time and say condom fairy in the same sentence?"

Steve laughed, "Yeah, seems like our kinda style."

"I love you too, Stevie, but I'm buying our condoms from now on."

Despite their family being a bit too involved in their extracurricular activities, they were both glad they had people that loved them enough to care.

#steddie #steddielovemonth #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #crack #mild smut #background clarkson

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sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months

Text

Tumblr WILL NOT let me post the fic and this ask at the same time and I've tried legit five times. So THANK YOU anon for the request and I'm sorry for the weirdness in uploading. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this!

My Ghost.

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: You don't know what happened that night. Things were fine, life was good, then your partner is on the news for all sorts of shit you never would've thought him capable of the day prior. He was dead, he was evil, and you were trying to move on. But what's the proper etiquette when the dead show up on your door unannounced?

Tags: No use of Y/N, hurt/comfort, fake death, mentions of drinking, drug use/dealing, grieving, arguing, cursing, flashbacks, brief suggestive scenes, suicidal thoughts.

Other Works in This Series: 'Repentance' (Prequel to 'My Ghost') • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: The way I've been trying to upload this for two hours. Oh my fucking God. Anyways, everyone say thank you to anon for getting me to write something that doesn't make God cry.

-¤°》◇《°¤-

I'm not hard to please, but I'm not desperate despite what the rumors may say.

People enjoy gossip. People who don't know fuck all about you. And my standards are fine. Were fine. And I don't mean standards such as 'buys me flowers everyday' or 'doesn't deal coke.' I mean standards such as 'is a decent fucking person.'

"That's what I thought you were up until all of this fucking... disappearing for months!" I scream, anger fueling me. I don't let the other emotions win out, don't let them have a say. Because if I do, I'll be too conflicted and overwhelmed and then I'm gonna cry, and that's not fair.

People had warned me he was trouble. Terms such as 'wannabe cowboy,' 'rebel without a cause' were tossed around in warning. But to me, he was just Billy.

Then he was dead.

Now, he was here. He showed up at my door nine months after leaving me with a small little keychain on the kitchen table and a soft kiss on my forehead, saying he had some plans for that evening. But he'll be back soon.

Then he was on the news. And a gas station blew up. Gangs, stolen vehicles. He was probably dead. Things would be easier if he was dead.

Fine. Maybe I initially ignored warning signs. Maybe I was distracted by his handsome side profile, too busy admiring his nose to notice the occasions it was dusted with the trace of a fine powder. Maybe his hands were too beautiful for me to realize they were slipping money to men in dark jackets when we went out to the rougher parts of town. But he was mine and I was his, and overall he was a good person.

He was alive. He was alive and I was mad because if he was dead then at least it would be valid that for nine months I have had to deal with the accusatory stares of our neighbors assuming I knew, the pity from my loved ones, and the betrayel that kept me awake at night. It would mean he hadn't left me to deal with his repercussions, that maybe there was a valid excuse. An undiagnosed brain tumor that finally gave way to insanity, a gun to his head. Something that was not the worst case scenario of just... being an awful person. I could let his things rest around the house undisturbed, hiding from the world and waiting to find the courage to join him one day and living in denial in the meantime. What the fuck was all of this?

"I couldn't tell you," he keeps saying. "It was better if you knew nothing until I was sure I could come get you."

"Why didn't you just take me with you from the start?" I ask. I've been pacing the floor for the past twenty minutes ever since he showed up. It was better than throwing every breakable object in the cheap, worn down shack of a house at him, which was my second instinct. My first was to pull him into my arms, draw the curtains shut and hide him away so that he'll never leave again. Like an idiot.

He laughs bitterly. "You would not be asking that if you knew what the fuck I went through," he says. His words sound like they should be angry, but there's this lightness to them like he can't let himself think too much about it. It just makes me angrier.

"Don't fucking laugh!" I snap. "Do you think any of this is funny?"

"I think you're funny when you're mad," he deflects, smiling. "You got this whole routine. Pacing, nose twitching. I like the Shirley Temple stomps, like you're a kid."

I groan loudly, the noise almost sounding like a low scream in my throat.

"You owed money to fucking- who?" I yell.

"The details don't matter-"

"When I have been grieving your death for nine months, they fucking matter!" I snap. His brows furrow, his hands mid air as if to say 'the fuck did I do?'

"You know me, okay? I don't get caught," he says as though it were obvious.

"I know fucking nothing!" I practically scream.

When we met he was just a guy at a bar, handsome, wearing that same ridiculous jacket that I couldn't help but stroke the white fluff on, tequila running through my veins.

"Can I help you?" He asked, smirking.

"Just wanted to see what it felt like," I said.

"Wanna feel something else?" He asked, his chin resting on his head.

"Oh, fucking gross. Fuck o-"

"I was talking about this," he said, whipping out his keys to show off an odd, weirdly shaped keychain with short, stiff fuzz. "Don't call me a pervert just cause you're one."

He was smiling. It was an easy smile. Careless, happy with life. I loved that smile. It meant things were always alright as long as he was smiling.

He was smiling on the photo they used for the manhunt.

We'd danced the whole night. He didn't know hardly any of the songs, causing him to be off beat. I was too drunk to keep time, so I stepped on his leather boots enough times there was a visible scuff on the top of one by the end of the night. I always felt bad, offering to replace or help pay to fix it. He wouldn't let me.

"They're a keepsake," he'd insist. "A living memory." He wore them everyday.

He's wearing sneakers, today.

At the end of the night, I stumbled out of the bar with a note in my coat pocket. It took two weeks for me to wear that coat again, and when I found the slip I'd almost thrown it away, assuming it was something dumb. But when I saw the worst handwriting in the world displaying a number belonging to someone named 'Keychain Guy,' I almost couldn't wait to call.

"Bullshit," Billy snaps. "You know me better than anyone."

"Don't say that," I say, putting a hand out protectively to keep him away. "That's exactly why everyone thinks I was just fine with that whole- fucked up thing!"

A gas station burned. A stolen vehicle. People were dead. People were dead.

Billy was presumed dead.

There was no funeral. He had no family, and none of mine wanted to put money into something that would be protested by the whole town anyways. No body to bury, nothing to do but gather up his things and smoke what remained in his stash until people came to nurse me back to life. By that point there wasn't even relief in drugs. The taste simply reminded me of better times cooking in the kitchen as we blew the smoke into each others faces, or worse. Better. Whatever.

I never questioned when Billy went out of town. I knew his work had details I didn't want nor need to know. Money was tight. But Billy always came home with little things whenever he went on unexpected trips. Knick knacks, snacks, some item I'd seen at the store and picked up to make a comment about. Had he been particularly forthcoming about his dealing when we started dating? No. He said he worked for a local small business, which technically isn't untrue. But about six months in, he was the one who approached me and sat me down at the small, rickty round table to tell me the truth. And that's what mattered to me. The economy is shit and it's not like it was meth, so who am I to judge?

About a year into it, I was begging for him to do something else.

"I don't like you disappearing," I told him. "I'm scared one day you're gonna piss someone off and that'll be the end. Then what am I gonna do?"

"Then you're gonna make sure they don't fuck up my face during the embalming process for the funeral," Billy said around his hand rolled cigarette. I whip the small dish towel at him, making him laugh and protect his small ashtray that I made him for Christmas the year prior. It was shitty, uneven, and I'm 99% sure a fire hazard. But he wouldn't use any other ones unless I was the one who bought them for him, and even then he favored this one. 'When this place goes up in flames,' I thought, 'I'll regret that gift.'

I'd kept it by the kitchen window every day since he'd died. "Died." It was his spot.

He moves to sit there now, looking in his pockets for the small box of prerolled cigarettes.

"People know you weren't involved," he says dismissively.

"Your friends know. What about the old ladies at church? The checkout clerks at the store? How about the fucking mailman?" I shout, convinced I'm still talking to the dead. "You think they know the ins and outs of the local psychos support group?" I ask, gesturing and stepping closer.

I was the local outcast now. Not to be trusted, not worth kindness. Shame was my title, and when Billy appeared on my doorstep at an hour where only I was awake I was sure I'd caught the same awful disease that must have been what sent him spiraling that winter day. It wasn't until he pushed the door open fully, taking me into his arms and pressing a warm kiss to my lips that I knew he was real. It was a feeling I was in the early stages of forgetting, blurry and cold. But here he was, the stubble on his chin a bit longer and his ears missing the small hoops that had glittered in the sunlight when he walked out the door.

Then I'd pushed him away. And the fight began.

"I'm not a fucking psycho," he argues. His hands pat around his outfit, searching. "You got a lighter?"

"Fuck off." I kept his favorite in my left pocket. I had to be careful what things of his I wore or kept on my person. People close to me knew I would have never condoned his actions, but even they had glared at me in the early wake of Billy's death when I dared to wear one of his shirts out of the house, or more commonly one of his thick leather jackets. But a lighter can be hidden, and unless you had borrowed it you wouldn't know it had specifically been his. So I kept it with me all the time, just feeling it next to my skin with the only barrier being the fabric of my pocket. Without a thought, I cover the small item as though he can see right through me. Picking up on the hint, he's rises from the table and begins walking over to me.

"Don't be a dick, just let me borrow it," he says, holding out his hand.

"Fuck off," I snap.

"You've said that. I just need it for two seconds," he says as his hands begin to gently grab at me, one on my shoulder and the other dipping into my pocket.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I yell, slapping at him.

"Just let me have-"

He cuts himself off as he pulls out the lighter from my pocket, his thumb grazing over the printed picture. The Statue of David. He'd bought because it made us laugh. One side was the regular statue, the other a close up of its small genitals with cursive writing underneath spelling the art piece's name.

"Oh," Billy says quietly.

We stand for a moment, silent. He doesn't seem sure what to do. My lungs burn with unheaved sobs. I fucking hate this.

"You were gonna come back," I finally say quietly. I hate how my voice sounds when I'm upset. I hate that I'm wearing his dogtag, an item he'd bought at a World War II museum in middle school that he gave me for our first Christmas because we were both too broke to actually buy each other anything, hence the poorly made ashtray. I hate that when I sleep at night it's in his clothes that I rarely wash because the idea of losing his smell makes me want to scream. I hate that his scent is different from the bottle of cologne he kept next to my makeup, one time spilling all over the entire bathroom counter because we'd gotten too wrapped up in each other, dragging our nails down each others backs and watching ourselves in the mirror until one wrong move of my hand revealed he'd been a bit too careless about screwing the lid back on earlier in the day. I'd always warned him about that.

I'd been in the bathroom putting on my permanently scented blush when I got the text.

"I was going to," he said softly. "Then I couldn't."

"So what?" I say, not daring to turn and face him, choosing instead to stare at where the cheap, old wood paneling of the wall meets the shaggy, stained carpet that you have to wear shoes on due to the staples that have begun sticking out of it. "You just propose to someone and then pretend to die?"

Valentines Day was an awfully cheesy day to do it. So it's a good thing it was a technicality.

The day had been lovely. Billy had saved up a little to take me to a local hibachi place, telling me to wear my best outfit and jewelry. It was slightly overkill, but it's the small things in life, isn't it?

We'd come home with a bottle of wine, a low budget movie to ignore and hands searching desperately for each other.

"I love you," he'd said between pants. "You're mine."

"Buy a ring," I'd dared. Our minds were buzzed, the bottle half empty and our clothes thrown away without care. Took me weeks to find his both of his socks.

I hadn't meant for him to take it seriously. But I guess he decided it was time.

Two days later I thought it was odd when he walked into the house with my favorite lunch. It wasn't expensive really, we just usually got it for special occasions or days that had been mentally harder for me. And things were normal that day. I was getting ready for my shift, running around like I always do trying to make sure I've got everything.

"Your coffee's in the cup, will you just sit down?" He laughed, watching me. I quickly collected the take out box, sipping my coffee and wincing over its temperature.

"Fuck, that burns," I cursed. He wrapped his arms around me, trying to get me to sit at the table. "Baby, I can't," I protested softly, but I was laughing. He was peppering me in kisses, giving me those big puppy dog eyes everyone knew were my weakness. He wanted for nothing so long as he looked at me just like that.

"Just this once," he asked, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I couldn't help the blush and giggle that rose from me, but I also couldn't be late.

"I'll make up for it," I promised, slipping away and running into the bedroom to get my shoes. When I ran back in, pulling them on and coming to kiss him goodbye, I nearly fell over when I saw him on one knee, smiling and looking at me like 'I told you so.'

I don't like how itchy the ring feels on my middle finger as I twirl it in thought.

"You don't know what happened," he pleaded, his hands still on me. "If you would just listen to me-"

"The news gave a pretty good description, William. I don't think there's missing pieces in my head, unlike you," I say coldly, detaching from myself so to not have to deal with my emotions. This makes him stiffen, pulling away and resuming his place at the kitchen table, lighting his cigarette and placing the ashtray in front of him like nothing has changed when everything has.

It feels like I'm out of time. Like I've been shoved into a picture of what my life looked like before. Except the house was never this clean, clothes always scattered about. Not just in a fit of passion, we just had bad habits when it came to picking up. Billy would always say the chairs are more decorations then they are seats, anyways. "Why would you use those when you have such a nice seat here?" He'd ask, wiggling his hips and placing his hands behind his head, making me laugh.

Billy never looked so well put together in the house, usually in a wife beater and his hair framing his face. He'd always joked he looked like a dirty hippie around me, and I'd always show him how much I liked that. Not that he looked fantastic now. When we went out he was known for putting in effort. He always had more hair products than me, which I found funny. Though he refused makeup. Once I'd managed to talk him into eyeliner. 'Guyliner' I'd teased. He liked it, but said it should stay between us with a wink before asking where to get dinner. Now he sits before me in clothes obviously stolen to help him look unremarkable, his hair shaggy and uncut, so different from the man I loved.

"Who are you?" I asked him. That man didn't shrink away from accountability.

He sighed, smoke swirling around him as he wipes his face with his hand.

"I don't know. Can't tell if I'm better or worse, to be honest," he admits softly. His eyes look haunted, heavy bags underneath. It's the way his shoulders sag as though his will to go on is slowly draining from him in this very moment that makes me want to break now. Like whatever reason he had for still going was fruitless.

I didn't like the way we mirrored each other like this.

I slowly scuff my feet towards him, tapping my fingers against the back of the wooden chair before pulling it out to sit across from him. It's a start.

"So if you tell me," I say slowly. "Am I going to wish you were dead?"

He doesn't look at me. "I don't know."

Great.

The night is long. Morning comes without an invitation, the blue sky beginning to glow through the shitty blinders I always told Billy we should replace one day. I understand less than when we started, we've both cried more than once, and between our fingers is cigarette stubs and the feeling of each others skin, hands laced together as though another click of an old remote to an outdated TV with batteries you had to rub against your shirt to make work would reveal the smouldering remains of a gas station, displaying the estimated body count and deeming one of us as a devil of the worst kind, ripping us apart.

"Jesus," I say when it's over.

"Yeah," he says. "So, needless to say, my anxiety is shit now."

It isn't funny. It's a tragic statement. But when we both glance into the others eyes, it's his small little smirk that makes me laugh like I haven't since my mother sent me the local news report with his picture covering the front page. The same one that shows everything is still okay.

"I'm sorry," I say. Then the laughing turns into sobbing, and then I can't breathe. And I really am sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't help him. I'm sorry he went out on a romantic whim and borrowed money he shouldn't have for the ring I was too ashamed to wear on the proper finger. I'm sorry he couldn't come back for me. And I'm sorry for hating him when he showed up unannounced at my door.

"Hey," he says gently, standing and crossing to me, removing his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders to comfort me. It's unfamiliar, evidence of a life he wouldn't have led if he had just stayed by me and it upsets me, but his lips against my wet cheeks ground me, familiar and soothing me, coaxing me into wrapping my arms around him, clawing my trembling fingers through his hair. Still soft. Still combed.

"You can't stay here," I choke out.

"I know," he says quietly. There's nothing for a long time, our bodies shaking as we cling to each other. In our arms are the unspoken months of grief. Of his longing for our home, of my insanity. Death looms over the furniture, light hidden away lest it take away my sacred treasures I'd used to keep his spirit close to me.

"I can't lose you again," I say.

"I know," he says, smelling my hair and placing a soft kiss on top of my head. "But I can't promise stability if you follow me."

My brows furrow, my mind racing in confusion, my hopes rising. Follow?

"I know a guy," he says quickly, his arms tighter as if scared I'll turn away. "Says he can get me a new identity and a one way ticket to somewhere. I don't know where yet, but it's worth a try."

My fingers trace his back, swirling invisible patterns over his shirt. He'd always liked that after a rough day. I can feel the tension begin to slowly fall away from him at the contact, his breathing growing deeper and more steady. "And you want me to come?"

"Need," he corrects. "I don't regret leaving you, but I can't stay away. Even if it's more kind to let you mourn and find a better life."

A new life. A new identity. New name, new everything.

Maybe I am insane. Maybe this exactly the kind of mental break Billy had that day. Maybe I was doomed to follow his spirit no matter what. Maybe this is a second chance. Maybe God had granted me a mercy I'll never be able to repay, no matter how many night I spend in worship at a church or between this man's legs. Maybe I'd spend every day looking over my shoulder, paranoid and eventually turning cruel to strangers so to keep this one person everyone told me to let go of from the very beginning.

But the same Billy.

"Can he do a marriage license?" I ask after a long silence. I can hear him laugh, pulling away to look at me.

"That eager?" He asks softly, his eyes gentle, thumb stroking my cheek. I lean into his touch, softly placing a kiss on his palm.

▪︎》◇《▪︎

"Well," I say, "I already have the ring."

Masterlist

As cute as this was, please have better standards than the Reader I wrote in this fic. No man is worth that. I am DEADASS. Anyways, love y'all <3

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x you #jhutch #billy burn #billy burn x you #billy burn x reader #billy burn 2019 #burn 2019 #burn movie 2019 #billy x reader

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tigertales9 · 5 months

Text

Hard Reset VIII

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Fluff

Description: This fic covers the trip to fall fest, plus a little before & after, during the bye week secret honeymoon.

Time/Place: Wednesday, Oct. 18, 2023 / the lakehouse + fall fest

A/N: This is the eighth fic in the Hard Reset series.

I had a lot of fun writing this fall fest chapter. I actually had a few more ideas, but I nixed them because it was getting too long. I have one more lakehouse/honeymoon chapter to post after this, and then we'll be heading back to the city. I'm really busy right now due to the holidays, but I'll try to have the next installment up in the next week or so.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The smell of coffee entices you awake the next morning; you stretch your deliciously sore, nude body under the soft sheets before fluttering your eyes open, smiling at Joe as he leans over you holding a large cup of coffee, a twinkle in his eyes as he blows coffee fumes in your direction.

"What are you doing?" you laugh, pushing up into a sitting position and making a half-ass effort to tame your bedhead.

"I knew if you smelled this coffee you'd wake up," he gloats, obviously proud of himself for being right.

"Well, it smells amazing," you groan, making grabby hands at the oversized cup. "Thank you," you sigh, taking a small sip to gauge the heat level. You lick your lips in appreciation and take another sip while looking at the logo on the side of the cup. "The Cove Café," you read out loud, recognizing it as the one-stop-shop type of place -- conveniently located just across the lake -- that specializes in coffee, pastries, sandwiches, smoothies and gelato. "Did you get it delivered?"

"Yeah. The delivery guy came by boat since it's only about five minutes instead of twenty minutes by car on these curvy, winding roads. I met him down at the dock."

"It's still nice and hot," you state, shivering a little as you warm both hands on the cup and take another sip.

"Are you cold?" Joe asks.

"A little."

He whips his long sleeve t-shirt off and hands it to you, holding your coffee cup while you shimmy into it. "Better?" he asks, leaning down to drop a kiss on your lips before handing your cup back to you.

"Much better, thanks."

"Good." He stares at you for several heartbeats, his expression hard to read in the dim light.

"What are you thinking?" you eventually ask.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. "You know last night when we saw the shooting star or possible UFO?"

"Yeah."

"And you said you didn't wish for anything because you already have everything you want?"

"Yeah," you repeat, slightly concerned at the intense look on his face.

"Were you talking about me? Because I thought you were, but then I kind of talked myself out of it and …"

"Of course I was talking about you," you soothe, brushing your fingers through his tousled curls while giving him a smile. "You're everything I've ever wanted and more."

"Okay, good," he mutters, giving you a sheepish smile. "Just wanted to make sure." He breaks eye contact and fiddles with his wristbands as he continues. "I've been worried that I might have rushed you into this secret marriage thing."

"You didn't rush me at all," you assure him. "I wanted this just as much as you."

"That's hard to believe, but I'll take your word for it."

You try to think of something to say to reassure him, your mind landing on a thought from last night. "Remember when you said there's no place in the world you'd rather be than right here with me?" you ask.

"Yeah."

"I got a little distracted by your sexy self before I could tell you this, but I had that exact same thought earlier in the night. Like the exact same. It's almost like you read my mind."

"That's really cool," he grins, leaning forward to give you a kiss. "We've always been on the same wavelength." He gives you a playful wink before hopping up and heading for the door. "I'm gonna turn the heat up a bit and grab a couple things. Be right back."

You enjoy your caramel-flavored coffee for a few minutes before raising a hand to brush your hair out of your face, the motion causing you to catch a whiff of Joe's scent on the t-shirt you're wearing; you grab a handful of material and bring it to your nose, inhaling deeply as a throb of arousal kicks off in your core. "Absolutely not," you grumble, looking down at your sheet-covered lap as you continue. "Plenty of time for that later. Plus, you're still a little sore from last night so behave yourself. "

"Who are you talking to?" Joe asks as he breezes back in carrying a large smoothie and a plate with two huge muffins.

"My vagina."

"What?" he snort-laughs.

"I caught your scent on this shirt and it made my vag perk up, but I shut it down. We need to get to the fall fest before the rain gets here. Plenty of time to get naughty later."

"Great, now I'm getting cockblocked by fall fest," he teases, grinning as he hands you a fat muffin.

"You've got sex on the brain."

"Says the woman with the perky vag."

"Touché," you chuckle, sinking your teeth into the sweet smelling muffin. "Oh my gosh," you moan after chewing and swallowing. "What flavor is this?"

"Apple cinnamon streusel."

"It's delicious," you enthuse, taking another bite as he crawls in bed beside you and takes a bite of his muffin. "What flavor is your smoothie?" you ask, taking a sip as he offers it to you.

"Harvest bounty or something like that," he shrugs. "It has like fifteen ingredients."

"It's good," you mumble, turning your attention back to your much tastier coffee and muffin. Smoothies were def his thing more than your thing.

Y'all finish eating breakfast while exchanging small talk.

"How does your calf feel?" you ask.

"Fine. I did all of my stretches when I got up this morning and it felt good. I thought about getting in a quick work-out, but I'm still tired from the work-out you gave me last night."

"Yeah, my legs feel like jelly, and I haven't even tried to stand up yet." Y'all laugh a little before you continue. "I still can't believe you had our exact same home gym replicated here at the lakehouse."

He shrugs. "It was easy. I just ordered the equipment and sent Max a few pics of the set-up I wanted. He met the delivery guys here and showed them where to put everything."

"Is Max going to be our caretaker here?"

"Yeah. I offered him the job and he accepted. I insisted on giving him a substantial raise. He said he didn't need it, but he gave in once he realized I wasn't gonna back down."

"You're never gonna beat the stubborn allegations."

"Ain't even trying," he chuckles, giving you a cocky grin before polishing off his muffin.

"Why don't you check the weather report real quick," you urge. "See what time the rain is gonna start."

He grabs his phone and scrolls for a minute. "Looks like it won't start until early evening. We'll have plenty of time to enjoy fall fest before the storm rolls in."

"Yay!" you chirp, handing him the last bite of your muffin before easing out of bed and heading for the bathroom. "I'm gonna get a quick shower and get dressed. I'll be ready in about thirty or forty minutes."

"Babe?" he asks, just before you disappear into the en suite bathroom.

"Yeah?" you turn to look at him.

"The high temp today is 69," he purrs, giving you a filthy wink. "Pretty sure that's a good omen for tonight."

"It's good to know marriage hasn't tamed your horniness," you giggle, shaking your head as you head for the shower.

~ ~ ~

Forty-five minutes later, y'all are driving the winding road that circles the lake, finally headed to the farmers market fall fest that you've been looking forward to since it was first mentioned.

"I'm so excited!" you enthuse. "What are you looking forward to the most?" you ask.

"Pumpkin spice doughnuts and getting a couple of actual pumpkins to carve tonight." He flashes you a smile before returning his attention to the road. "What about you?"

"Both of those plus getting some apple cider to go with the spiced rum we brought."

"Are we gonna get lit while carving the pumpkins?"

"Just a little tipsy," you giggle. "We're on vacay after all." You turn your head to look at him, giving him a slow perusal as he navigates the curvy road with one big hand gripping the steering wheel. He's wearing a black backwards cap, sunglasses, a plaid flannel shirt in shades of black, gray and blue unbuttoned over a white t-shirt, plus his fav gray jeans that are stretched tight over his thick thighs. The cuffs of his shirt are rolled up to reveal his sinewy forearms, and your eyes are drawn to a prominent vein that snakes down from his elbow to his wrist.

You bite your lip and squirm in your seat when you think about another prominent vein farther south on his body that you spent quite awhile teasing with your tongue last night.

He cuts a glance at you, one eyebrow raised above the frame of his shades. "What?" he grins, reading your body language with ease.

"Just enjoying the view," you murmur.

"The view is that way," he states, pointing toward the lake in the opposite direction

"Nope, it's definitely this way," you tease, taking your sunglasses off to bat your eyelashes while ogling him.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm gonna turn this car around and take you right back to bed."

You give him a wink before sliding your shades back on. "I'll behave since I really wanna go to fall fest."

"Cockblocked by fall fest once again," he grumbles playfully.

"I'll make it up to you later," you promise.

~ ~ ~

Y'all pull into the parking lot about fifteen minutes later, breathing a sigh of relief that very few cars are already there. "Not too many folks here on a week-day morning," you state, grabbing your purse plus a reusable shopping bag before you exit the car. You walk beside Joe toward the entrance, smiling to yourself when he instinctively matches his much longer strides to your shorter ones.

"Ohhh, let's hit the pumpkin patch first," he urges, pointing just to the left of the main entrance where it seems there are about a thousand pumpkins sitting pretty in the late-morning sun. You quickly agree, and y'all split up to select the perfect pumpkins for carving.

After about ten minutes of serious pumpkin perusal, you hear Joe's voice coming from one row over.

"Babe?"

You can't see him due to the hay bales stacked between each row. "Yeah?" you answer, leaning down to thump your fingers against a shiny, plump candidate, making a stank face at the dull thud you get back.

"Can you come here real quick?" he continues.

"Sure." You walk to the end of the row, turn the corner and head toward him, smiling when he points at a cute display -- a jaunty scarecrow, several hay bales, and about a dozen colorful mums situated in front of a mound of pumpkins. "You're taller than the scarecrow," you tease, giggling when he sticks his tongue out at you.

"Let's take a pic real quick," he urges, waiting for you to drop your bags out of frame before joining him in front of the display. He snaps a few pics, his long arm working just as good as any selfie stick. "These are great," he states, showing you the results.

"They really are," you agree, "and we totally match," you continue. You're in another pair of black leggings with your black knee boots, a fitted white t-shirt, and a long sleeve button down shirt in a soft, medium-wash denim. You left your coat in the car because it wasn't cold enough for it.

"For real," he muses. "The Story of Us - Volume Two is gonna be awesome," he grins.

You give him a quick kiss before grabbing your bags and heading one row over to continue searching for the perfect pumpkin.

About fifteen minutes later, you round the corner again holding the ultimate carving pumpkin. You jump a bit as you immediately come face to face with Joe holding his own gorgeous gourd. Y'all eye each other's selections for a few seconds, nodding approval. His selection is tall and sturdy while yours is shorter and more voluptuous. "Perfect," he says, taking your pumpkin from you. "I'll pay for these and take them to the car while you get in line for doughnuts. I'll get the warm apple cider and come find you."

"Okay," you grin, walking toward the main entrance, your heart full of love for your bossy husband.

You're still standing in line several minutes later when Joe walks up with two cups, handing you one. "It's delicious," he says, waiting for you to take a sip of the steaming beverage, closely watching your face for your reaction. "Delicious," you echo, taking another sip before stepping forward to order your doughnuts.

Y'all eat the spicy, warm pastries washed down with cider while walking and inspecting the wares at the various booths selling fruits and vegetables, homemade goods, arts and crafts, home decor, plus lots of food and drink.

You stop in front of a display of plush blankets, quickly digging in your purse for a wet wipe from your travel pack, cleaning your hands before handing the wipe to Joe to do the same. You dry your hands on a clean napkin before reaching out to fondle one of the throws. "Sooo soft," you murmur, watching as Joe roots around in the pile of blankets before pulling out one adorned with an autumn-hued plaid with just a hint of teal.

"Perfect for the lakehouse, right?" he grins.

"Perfect," you agree.

"Let's get one for the city, too," he mutters, watching closely as you dig around for a more neutral-colored throw. "Jackpot," he states as you hold one up for inspection.

"These would make great Christmas presents," you muse, spending the next several minutes trying to decide which throws to get for everyone.

"Let's just get all of 'em, and we'll decide who to give 'em to later," Joe urges.

You agree, giving a warm smile to the vendor when he comes over to check y'all out. He raises his eyebrows as he looks at Joe. "You look kinda familiar," the vendor says. "You come here often?"

"No," Joe answers as he hands over some cash. "This is our first time here."

"We're from out of town," you add.

"I see," the vendor says, returning your smile before handing Joe his change.

"Keep the change," Joe says before y'all help the vendor stuff fourteen fluffy blankets into a couple of oversized paper shopping bags. "I'll take these to the car," Joe mutters, flashing you a conspiratorial smile. "You keep browsing."

You make it as far as the next booth before Joe catches up with you; he walks up waggling a small paper bag. "Spicy roasted nuts," he mumbles around a mouthful of said nuts. "I needed some protein to go with all the carbs."

"Good idea, babe," you state, sticking a candle under his nose. "You like this scent?"

He inhales the aroma and immediately nods his head. "Love it. What is it?"

"Honey vanilla. I like that it's not too sweet. I think I'll get a couple," you continue, placing the lid back on the candle you're holding before reaching for another one.

"Get more than a couple," Joe orders before tossing another handful of nuts in his mouth.

"They have eight of this fragrance. How many should we get?"

"Get all of 'em," he urges. "It's not like they'll go bad before we can use 'em. We can leave some here and take some back to the city."

You give him a smile and nod in agreement, secretly thrilled that he seems to be really enjoying his fall fest experience. "You keep browsing," you say. "I'll pay for these then catch up with you."

You help the vendor double wrap your candles in tissue paper to protect the glass containers before stashing them in your reusable shopping bag; as you make your way up the row of booths, you spot Joe ambling along, his head turning side-to-side to take in all of the goods. "Hey," you greet as you catch up with him.

"Hey," he echoes, holding his paper bag out to you. "Wanna taste my nuts?"

Your mouth drops open as you unleash an inelegant snort-laugh, laughing even harder when he shakes his head.

"And you accuse me of having sex on the brain," he chuckles.

"You do have sex on the brain," you state, grabbing a handful of his nuts and tossing them in your mouth.

"I mean … yeah, but can you blame me?" he asks. "I've got a smoking hot wife."

"You're getting laid tonight, Burrow," you slide your sunglasses down and give him a wink. "No flattery needed."

"It's not flattery. It's the truth."

You give him a smile and take another handful of nuts as y'all continue strolling up the row.

"Pumpkin tic-tac-toe!" Joe chirps, grabbing your hand and leading you to a display that features a square, black table with orange tape used to create the tic-tac-toe rows; there's a hay bale in front of the table holding five white and five orange mini pumpkins, each about the size of a grapefruit. "How much to play?" Joe asks the elderly man sitting in a folding chair reading a newspaper.

"You can play for free," he answers, nodding at a large glass jar with some coins and dollar bills in it. "But if you'd like to make a donation to the local food bank, we'd appreciate it."

Joe gives him a nod and stuffs several twenties in the jar before leveling a 'game face' look at you. "Which color would you like to lose with?" he teases, "white or orange?"

"I'll take white," you answer, knowing he'll def want the orange.

"You go first," he urges, raising one eyebrow when you place a white pumpkin in the upper right corner; after a few more moves, the game ends in a draw. "Okay, my turn to go first," he mutters, plopping his orange pumpkin in the center square. After a few more moves, the game ends in another draw and Joe gives you an evil grin. "You'll slip up in a minute," he states. "It's only a matter of time.

Y'all play several more games with each ending in a draw.

"Looks like we're pretty evenly matched," you eventually muse, giggling when he makes a stank face. "One more game," you continue, knowing you have to end this or y'all will still be playing when the storm rolls in; you set a white pumpkin down top center, smiling at Joe when he tilts his head and gives you a look before setting his own pumpkin down. He wins the game fairly quickly after.

"Congrats," you smile, picking up your purse and shopping bag while Joe cuts a look at the vendor who's been mostly ignoring y'all while reading his paper.

"She let me win, didn't she?" Joe asks.

"She sure did," the vendor grins. "Good woman you got there."

"The best," Joe agrees, swatting your butt playfully as y'all head toward the next booth.

You stop in front of the booth, intrigued by several colorful fondue pots holding glossy tan liquid. Joe stops beside you and reads the card in front of each fondue pot. "Salted caramel, cinnamon caramel, chocolate caramel, peanut butter caramel, dairy-free caramel." He gives you a beaming smile when he reads the last card. "Dairy-free," he purrs, turning the full wattage of his smile on the vendor as he steps closer to the booth.

"Would you like to sample the dairy-free?" she asks, somehow managing to tear her eyes away from Joe for a second to include you in her offer.

"Yes," he states, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips in anticipation. The vendor, who looks to be in her late teens, seems mesmerized by him for a few seconds before clearing her throat and forging ahead.

"I have homemade marshmallows and apple slices you can dip in the caramel. Do any of those sound good?"

"Yes and yes," Joe enthuses, snatching an apple slice off of the plate she holds toward him before dunking it in the caramel and offering it to you; you hold eye contact with him as you bite into the juicy delicacy, chewing slowly as he watches you closely. "Is it good?" he asks, popping the rest of the apple slice in his mouth before grabbing a marshmallow.

"It's delicious," you answer, a little surprised at how good it actually is.

He dips the marshmallow in the caramel -- careful not to touch his fingers in the glossy goo -- and tosses it in his mouth, his eyes going wide as he chews. "Really good," he mumbles, grabbing another marshmallow and ripping it in half before dunking half and offering it to you.

"We have these little forks you can use," the vendor offers, waving her hand at several long, narrow forks before gracing Joe with a smile.

"I'd rather feed her with my fingers," Joe states. "I promise not to touch the caramel or double dip."

You chew the caramel-coated marshmallow and throw a grin at the vendor who tears her gaze away from Joe to return your smile. "This is the best dairy-free caramel I've ever tasted," you state. "Do you sell the marshmallows, too?"

"Yes," she mutters, stepping back as an older woman walks up with a big smile on her face. "You like the dairy-free caramel, huh?" she asks, looking back and forth between you and Joe.

"Love it," you answer.

"I have four jars left …"

"We'll take all four," you and Joe say in unison, laughing at the synchronicity.

"Can we get a couple bags of marshmallows, too?" Joe asks, grinning when she gives him a nod and reaches down to grab a couple bags of the fat, fluffy confections.

"Anything else?" she asks, bagging up your purchases as you eye a few boxes on a side table. "You sell the fondue pots, too?" you inquire, grinning at Joe as he walks over and looks at the dozen or so boxes.

"Sure do," she answers, "only have a few left though. What color do you want?"

"Teal," you and Joe answer together, pointing at one of her sample pots and, once again, laughing at the synchronicity.

"You kids seem to be on the same wavelength," she chuckles, grabbing a box and adding it to your bag.

"It's kind of our thing," Joe brags, paying for the purchases while you wait.

You turn your head and spot the younger girl who'd helped you earlier snapping a pic of Joe, her eyes going wide when she realizes she's been caught. You walk toward her, smiling when she mumbles an apology. "You recognize him?" you ask.

"Yeah," she whispers. "He's Joe Burrow and you're his fiancée."

"Want a pic with him?"

"Really?" she asks, her face lighting up.

"Sure," you answer, waving Joe over. You take her phone and instruct Joe to pose, laughing internally at his obvious hover hand as you snap the pic.

"Thanks!" she enthuses as you hand her phone back to her.

"You're welcome," you grin, taking Joe's hand as y'all walk to the next booth.

"Can we do the fondue thing tonight?" Joe asks, plowing ahead before you answer. "We have marshmallows to dip, and maybe we can get a few more pumpkin spice doughnuts and some apples."

"Sounds like a sugar rush, but I'm down," you say, "but we still need to stop at the grocery store and get some actual food to cook for dinner. I don't want to force a delivery driver to venture out in a thunderstorm later."

"Okay," he agrees, his beaming smile coaxing an answering smile to your lips.

~ ~ ~

A few hours later y'all arrive back at the lakehouse, making several trips to bring in your haul.

You pop a jug of apple cider in the fridge -- along with some salmon and a chopped salad y'all got at the grocery store for dinner-- before heading back out to help Joe bring in more stuff.

"I've got this, babe," he says, lugging several bags in while giving you a wink. "Why don't you heat up some cider with a little spiced rum, and we can sit on the deck and enjoy the sunset?"

"Do we have time before the storm gets here?"

"Yeah," he says, dropping the bags before heading back out. "I checked the radar, and we have about an hour before the storm gets here."

You do his bidding, heating up some cider and rum in oversized mugs, taking a swig and making a face as he strolls back in and plops the pumpkins on the kitchen island.

"Wow, that's potent," you giggle, taking another gulp as you push his mug toward him.

"It's delicious," he moans, taking his cap off and tossing it on the island before grabbing your new plush throw -- autumn-hued with a hint of teal -- and nodding toward the back deck. "Let's go enjoy the sunset."

Joe lights the fire pit before joining you on the loveseat, wrapping the blanket around you both as you hold the mugs of boozy cider; you hand him his mug and snuggle up against him, throwing your legs over one of his thick thighs and resting your head on his shoulder.

"I'm so glad the adjacent lots came with the house," you muse.

"Yeah," Joe agrees. "I was already in love with the house, but when I found out it was sitting directly in the center of three oversized lots, I was totally sold."

"Lots of privacy," you grin, snuggling tighter against his warm body as the wind picks up, blowing some of the jewel-colored leaves off the trees. "The temp is dropping pretty quick, and the clouds are rolling in," you say. "Rain's gonna be here sooner than expected."

"We probably have another twenty minutes or so to enjoy the sunset before it gets here."

"That's good," you murmur. "Thanks for taking me to fall fest," you continue, kissing his neck before taking another swig of your cider.

"You're welcome. I had fun, especially since very few folks recognized me."

"I think several people may have recognized you but just didn't say anything. It's hard to say if they were staring at you because you looked familiar or because you're sex on legs."

"You're getting laid tonight, Mrs. Burrow," he repeats your earlier words. "No need for flattery."

"It's the absolute truth and you know it," you state, heaving a happy sigh as he curls an arm around your waist under the soft blanket, his long fingers rubbing lazy circles on your hip through your leggings.

Y'all sip your drinks and admire the view for a few minutes before you speak up again.

"I've been thinking," you mutter, tilting your head to look at him. "What will we say if folks find out we got secretly married?"

"I'll take all of the blame, of course," he states, "since it was my idea."

"But what will we tell folks if they ask why we did it?"

"The truth," he shrugs. "I wanted to do it to give me one less thing to stress over."

"And what if someone says 'You were already getting married in the off-season. You couldn't wait?'"

"I'll say no, I couldn't wait to make you mine." His gaze drops to your lips just before he presses his mouth to yours, licking along the seam of your lips to coax them open, deepening the kiss as he pulls you closer. You lean into the kiss for a few minutes before pulling back slightly. "I've been yours since the night we shared our first kiss," you whisper against his slick lips. He lifts his head to meet your eyes. "And now it's official," he grins. "You're stuck with me for life."

You continue grinning at each other like lovesick fools until he flinches and reaches a hand up to the top of his head. "Please don't let that be bird shit," he grumbles, sighing in relief when a light patter of rain starts falling. "It's just rain," he chuckles, taking your mug of cider and setting it down beside his on the coffee table. "Hurry inside before our kickass blanket gets wet," he orders. "I'll put the cover on the fire pit."

You rush inside and watch through a window as he grabs the fire pit cover and secures it in place before grabbing both mugs and heading your way; you hold the door open for him as he hurries inside just before the rain intensifies.

"Well, we got to see most of the sunset," he smiles, handing you a mug before running his fingers through his slightly-damp hair. 'Wanna carve the pumpkins now?"

"Sure," you answer. "Where are we gonna do it?"

"Let me get a fire going, and we can move the table in front of the fireplace."

"Sounds good." You drape the blanket over the back of the sofa before heading toward the kitchen. "Let's light a few of our new candles, too." You pull four of the eight candles out of your shopping bag and set them on either side of the large stone hearth, waiting for Joe to get the fire going before taking the stick lighter from him to light the candles. "Super cozy," you sigh, setting the lighter down before helping Joe move a card table and two chairs in front of the fireplace. He'd purchased the table and chairs to use until you could pick out an actual dining table.

"I'll get the pumpkins," he says.

"I'll get everything else." You grab a beach towel, two knives, two large spoons, two pens, and an oversized mixing bowl for the guts.

Joe waits for you to place the towel on top of the table before setting the pumpkins down; he grabs your mugs of cider and sets them down while you place a knife, a spoon, and a pen beside each pumpkin, positioning the large bowl in the center of the table.

"I don't need a pen," Joe states, stripping his flannel shirt off and tossing it on the sofa before dropping into his chair directly across from you.

You take your denim shirt off and hang it on the back of your chair before sitting down. "You don't wanna draw the face before you start carving?"

"I'm just gonna wing it," he grins, taking a hearty swig of cider before tipping his pumpkin onto its side, picking up a knife and plunging it into the bottom, quickly making a circular cut and removing the chunk. "Want me to handle your bottom for you?" he asks, grinning at your loaded expression. "The bottom of your pumpkin, horndog," he chuckles, pulling your pumpkin toward him when you give him a wink and a nod.

Once he opens your pumpkin up and pushes it back in front of you, y'all both grab big metal spoons and start scooping, eventually filling the bowl almost to the brim with gourd goop.

"I'm gonna wash my hands before I start carving the face," Joe mutters once his pumpkin is hollowed out. "Me too." You follow him to the kitchen sink, each giving your hands a quick wash before heading back to the table.

"Time to get down to business," he states, grabbing his knife and tilting his head left and right before starting to cut, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrates.

You take a few minutes to draw your jack-o-lantern face before cutting. "I'm gonna give mine a happy face," you state.

"I'm gonna give mine a mean game face," Joe snarls, flashing you a smile when you giggle at him.

Y'all work for the next several minutes without speaking, the sound of the pouring rain and crackling fire the only noises.

You finish the eyes and nose and are just about to start on the mouth when you give Joe a quick glance, your pulse reacting when you find him staring at you. "Are you finished?" you murmur.

"Not yet. Just enjoying the view."

You bite your lip and stare back at him for several heartbeats, a thought flashing in your mind that you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you … or the way he makes you feel.

Eventually a loud clap of thunder makes you gasp and jump, breaking the spell for a second.

"The storm's right on top of us," he murmurs.

"I can feel the electricity in the air," you whisper, taking a few gulps of cider, a sizzle of heat rushing through you at the look on his face.

"I think the electricity is coming from us," he purrs, standing up and holding a hand out to you.

"I need to get a quick shower," you say, placing your hand in his as you stand up.

"No, you don't," he argues, pulling you close, his hands immediately dropping to your butt as he buries his face in your neck, his soft scruff causing a shiver of desire as he kisses his way up to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

"I was gonna wear the naughty lingerie tonight … after I have a shower," you protest weakly, gripping his shoulders as you lean into him, lightheaded from the mixture of spiced rum and arousal.

"Later," he murmurs, dropping to his knees to remove your boots and socks before standing back up.

"But …"

"Are you wet for me?" he interrupts, cupping one big hand over your crotch and teasing you through your leggings.

"Maybe," you whisper, your breath catching in your throat when he slides a hand inside your leggings, his agile fingers quickly slipping into your panties, a sound of satisfaction rumbling low in his throat at how wet you are for him.

"I need you naked. Now," he states, picking you up and setting you on the leather sofa before peeling your t-shirt and leggings off. You take your bra off as he slides your panties down your legs, the look on his face setting off a steady throb deep inside you.

He strips his own t-shirt off and drops to his knees before spreading your thighs; he pulls your ass to the edge of the sofa cushion, his hot tongue immediately teasing your slick folds with long, slow licks. "You taste so good," he groans, his deep voice, thick with lust, caressing you like a physical touch.

You bury a hand in his hair and watch closely as he devours you, his tongue inside you and his scruff tickling your most sensitive flesh causing a delicious tension to build in your core. "Please," you beg, biting your lip hard enough to sting as he captures your gaze while gently circling your clit with his tongue; he continues to tease you with his mouth while sliding his hands up your body to play with your nipples, groaning when you pull his hair and grind against him.

"Harder!" you urge, gasping when he latches onto your clit and gives it a thorough suck. "Just like that," you breathe, "don't stop!" You keep your gaze locked on his as the tension inside you reaches the breaking point, giving his hair another tug as your intense climax hits, your cries of pleasure mingling with the rolling thunder as he continues to pleasure you through the orgasm.

You're still trying to catch your breath when he shoves his jeans and undies down to mid-thigh and nestles his erection against your entrance. "You ready?" he asks, dipping just inside while waiting for the go ahead. "Yeah," you pant, whimpering when he buries his cock inside your still spasming core, the thick intrusion causing you to clamp down hard. "Jesus, you feel too good," he groans, his hips immediately rolling forward in smooth, steady strokes as you wrap your trembling legs around him.

He leans down and captures your lips, gracing you with a primal growl when you suck his tongue into your mouth. "You taste amazing, don't you?" he asks, riding you even harder when you give him a breathless, "yes, sir," before continuing to savor the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

He cups a hand behind your right knee and lifts your leg over his shoulder, the new angle tilting your hips in a way that has him hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. You moan his name as he completely fills you up -- over and over -- the exquisite stretch of his thick cock inside you straddling the fine line between pleasure and pain.

"Can you come for me again?" he rasps, dropping a hand down to tease your super sensitive clit while pounding into you. "Y … yes," you whine, feeling another climax building as his soft grunts accompany his hard thrusts, his icy-hot gaze locked on yours as he expertly pushes you toward meltdown.

You dig your fingers into his muscular arms and make a sound that's part whimper/part scream as your orgasm rips through you, your gaze still holding his as he manages a few more thrusts before following you over the edge. His beautiful eyes lose focus before sliding closed in ecstasy, his head tilting back as he empties himself into you as your clenching walls milk him dry.

He eventually falls forward and buries his face in your neck; for the next few minutes, the only sounds you hear are the snap and crackle of the fire, the distant thunder, and you and Joe panting hard to catch your breath.

After a little while longer, you flutter your eyes open, your gaze coming to rest on your partially-carved pumpkin staring at you. "My jack-o-lantern is hardcore judging us right now," you giggle.

Joe drops a kiss against your neck before throwing a look over his shoulder. "Yep," he agrees. "She looks totally scandalized." He gives you a wink before slowly pulling out of you, both of you hissing at the delicious friction.

"You wanna finish carving the pumpkins now or you wanna rest?" you ask, stretching out on the oversized sofa as he stands up and strips off the rest of his clothes.

"Let's rest for a bit," he answers, heading to the kitchen to get a damp cloth to clean you up before stretching his tall frame out beside you; he tugs the plush blanket down on top of y'all, pulling you close and making sure you're fully covered before dropping a kiss on your forehead.

A few minutes pass before he speaks up again. "Would it be cheesy to say there's no place I'd rather be than right here with you?"

You snuggle closer to him, a smile gracing your lips as you answer. "Would it be cheesy to admit I was thinking the exact same thing?"

"We're on the same wavelength, as usual," he chuckles.

"It's kind of our thing," you repeat his words from earlier, his familiar scent and the sound of his strong heartbeat lulling you to sleep as your eyes flutter closed.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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ohtobeleah · 8 months

Text

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Three: [In The Arms Of The Enemy]

Summary: Both you and Jake come face to face with the man you only know as ‘The Commander’ who you soon find out has very little patience for bullshit.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Every Naval Aviator you had ever known had a shadow. A dark cloud of fear and doubt that followed even the best into the cockpit. Every day you’d pretend like the shadow wasn't there, it's what got you this far, hoping that if you went faster, pulled harder, mastered harder techniques, achieved more, did better, got stronger and knew enough knowledge to rival an F-18 Natop book, that the shadow would give in and give up the chase.

“Hollywood.” But like they say, you can't out-run your shadow. “Hey hotshot, you okay?” Jake's voice was as angelic as an angel's whisper as it cut through the fog in your mind. You weren't sure where you were or how long you’d been out for. But what you did know is that you felt like crap.

Jake watched through the bars of his cell as you made an attempt to get up onto your knees. You'd been lying face down in the dirt of the cell floor. Drooling to the point mud had begun to form where your cheek had been squished against the clay. Inhaling all kinds of nasty things.

“There she is.” Jake beamed as he pressed himself up against the metal bars that kept him from you. “You're okay, just breathe alright.” Jake had been awake for a while now. He’d just been listening, taking in his surroundings before they had shoved you into your cell. Time was hard to tell, but Jake estimated you'd been on the ground unconscious for roughly twenty minutes.

“Where are we?” You asked as you got up onto your knees. It was a little harder to achieve with your hands tied in front of you. The rope itself was pulled tight enough to give you pins and needles, but not hard enough to cut off blood flow completely. “Oh my god where the fuck are we!” It wasn't until you turned around in a panic that you saw it. You let out a blood curdling scream that came from the depths of your soul when your eyes landed on the dead body in the corner of your cell. Still tied up but very much dead.

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD GET ME OUT OF HERE!” You cried as you fell back onto your ass and shuffled closer and closer to the bars that kept you apart. You didn't stop moving until your back collided with the metal. “Jake! Jake you have to get me out of here I can’t–I can't breathe!”

“Hey, hey hey–shhh I got you, I've got you.” Jake tried his best to try and calm you down. He’d been looking at that same dead body for the better half of what he assumed to be an hour before they brought you in. “I'm right here with you, okay?”

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god.” It was the only thing you could say as you felt Jake right behind you. He did what he could to try and comfort you, but his own hands were tied in front of him. The same as yours. No matter how much he tried he couldn't squeeze his arms in through the gaps in the bars. He could probably get one, but not two. Not tied at the wrist like this.

“Don't look at her.” Jake cooed, his voice still as calm as ever. Level headed as can be in a time like this. “Hey, Hollywood, don't look at her, turn around and look at me.” He asked softly as he stayed right behind you, right in your ear so you could hear him, so he could make sure you could hear him through the panic. Through the fear. “Turn around and look at me Y/n, just me.”

It took everything you had to peel your eyes away from the woman slumped in the corner of your cell. It took everything you had to turn around and face Jake Seresin as he kneeled on the dirt of his own cell. Face to face with you up against the bars.

“We’re gonna get out of here–” It was a vastly different take on the matter to what you had to say. “I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise.”

“Noone knows where we are, we don't even know where we are.” You sobbed as Jake reached through the bars as much as he could to grip your hands in his. “I'm so scared.”

“I'm scared too.” Jake admitted as he held your hands in his. “But we’ve gotta be smart here alright, you don't show them you're scared because the minute they see you're scared they’ll use it against you.” You understood the logic, but how the hell were you supposed to mask this? “And when they come back, which they will, you don't struggle.” Only then did Jake sound scared. Although he’d told you he was, he didn't sound it. If anything he sounded as confident as he did all the time. “You don't give them a reason to hurt you okay and I promise I will get you out of here.”

All you did was nod as you tried to silence your sobbs. Jake had never seen you cry before, now he’d seen you cry enough for a lifetime. The thought of you being in this situation with him killed him. It was always him, just him. Jake had always flown solo. He’d never gone down in enemy territory before. And he hated that the time he did he took down his Weapons System Officer too.

“Who is she?” You asked softly as you tried to calm down. “The woman.” Jake had had more time than you to try and figure that question out. He had an idea, but he wasn't entirely sure.

“She's a pilot.” Jake answered hesitantly but he knew you'd figured that much out yourself. “I can't see you patch though.” It was Jake's very polite way of asking if you could take a look. He didn't want to ask you out right knowing how much fear coursed through your veins, but when you nodded he knew you got what he was asking.

Jake watched as you stood, using the support of the bars to help you up. Things were so difficult with your arms tied in front of you. Jake did the same thing, he sat on his ass and pushed himself up. Your cell seemed so much smaller than it did a second ago. With Jake whispering in your ear that everything would be alright the dead body seemed a million miles away. Now? Now it seemed as though she was at your feet before you'd even taken three steps.

“You’re okay.” Jake reminded you as he watched you step closer. “I'm right here with you.” It wasn't true, but it was nice to hear. You crouched down in front of her. The woman who was dead in your cell. It didn't look like she had been gone for too long. Her skin was cool to the touch but there was no rotting smell. The smell you think about when you think of dead bodies. “Can you see anything?”

They must have wanted you to investigate, maybe they wanted you to know who it was. Because her uniform looked as if it had been washed, cleaned and dried of the blood they surely spilled over it. Her patches were all still there, including her callsign.

“Dutchess.” You frowned as you looked at the patches and callsign on her uniform. Struggling to understand how she ended up here. “It's Captain Sarah ‘Dutchess’ Hewens.” Jake had heard about the missing Captain that had been reported missing in action just shy of four months ago. You all had. It had been the scuttle butt across every naval station. How she ended up here he’d never know, but you had a theory. “Jake, we were ambushed.” You turned around with fear in your eyes as you rose to your feet. “They had to have known we were coming because the second we were in that canyon they were on us.”

It had all been such a blur Jake hadn’t even thought about it. All he was thinking about was trying to get out alive. He was thinking about his wingman, Rooster. Never once did the thought of an ambush cross his mind. But evidently it had crossed yours. Which made you the best WSO Jake had ever known.

“You think Dutchess tried to trade intel for her life?” Jake asked as he stood by the bars. He wanted nothing more than to be in the same cell as you. He couldn't protect you with bars stopping him from getting to you.

“I think she did whatever she had to do in order to survive.” You said exactly what Jake had just in a more forgiving way. “They knew we were coming because Dutchess told them hoping it would keep her alive, how else would they have known we were coming?”

As you looked at Jake through the bars of your cell and he looked back at you with the same realisation and disbelief evident all over his face, you remembered he was struck on the back of the head.

“Are you okay?” The softness in your voice was a stark contrast to the anger you had just before explaining your theory on the ambush. “Your head?”

“You don’t have to worry about me hotshot.” Jake sent you that signature grin everyone loved. “But for the record? I’m fine.”

“How about off the record?” Jake wasn’t expecting you to care so much. He thought for sure you’d want to kill him yourself for getting you into this mess. But you didn’t seem to pass blame. “I saw what that guy did to you. It must have hurt like a bitch.” It was then Jake let out the smallest of chuckles to himself as he nodded in response.

“Off the record i've got a little bit of a headache but it's nothing I can't handle.” Jake explained as he stood face to face with you at the bars that kept you apart. “What about you? How're the ribs?” There was something about Jake that brought you comfort. If you were here alone you probably would have already given up. But when he looked at you like you were the only light that could guide him out of this hellscape–you couldn't help but to feel just a little special. Even in the darkest of times.

“Yeah, no they’re fucked.” Your complete honesty made the pair of you laugh for just a fleeting moment. With that laughter came a little bit of reprieve, it made you feel even just for a second that you were at the Hard Deck just trying to fit in. It made you believe as you closed your eyes and revealed in the sweet sweet sound of Jake Seresins laugh that you were looking at him looking at you from across the bar.

But then you opened your eyes and you were still in hell.

“They hurt, but like you said, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Your eyes trailed down from Hangman's eyes to watch as he pressed his lips together in a fine line. He was unsure, unsure if you were alright. Unsure of everything. “How the hell are we gonna get outta here Jake?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed, letting his forehead rest against yours through the bars. “But I promise you I’ll figure that out.” You knew there was no way he could ever really promise that, but still you believed him. “Trust me, you and I? We weren’t born to die. We’re Hangman and Hollywood.” Jake tried to get you to smile as fresh tears began to stream down your cheeks. “Hollywood and Hangmans story doesn’t end in some dingy cell in some unknown territory.”

“When exactly does our story end?” You asked as you felt Jake raise his hands up from in front of him to gently touch your chin.

“After this? Hopefully old and gray in some retirement villages where we can spend our days bickering over the fact that we should have sued for a hell of a lot more than we end up suing for.” That made you smile, it made the corners of your lips turn into your cheeks. “It doesn’t end here.”

Every Naval Aviator has a shadow. And the only way to get rid of a shadow–is to turn off the lights, stop running from the darkness—and face what you fear. Head on.

You had no choice but to face your fears when your smile was ripped right off your face when the wheels of your cell door opening echoed throughout your cell. Jake felt you go stiff, he noticed how you held whatever little breath was in your lungs and he saw how fear took over your entire being.

“Don’t give them a reason to hurt you.” Jake mumbled as he stayed put. He wasn’t leaving the bars. If this was as close as he could get then so be it. He wasn’t moving. “I’m right here.”

“Let’s go.” The Insurgent ordered as you stepped away from the bars and made your way towards where he stood with arms crossed and feet spread slightly. He was built and tall and once again clothed head to toe in black clothing. Leaving you no way to identify the man. “Did you enjoy getting to know your cellmate?” He asked with an evil laugh that would have made the devil himself shiver as he gripped your arm hard. “She was my favourite.” He drew you closer so that you were as close as you could get. He snickered deeply as he inhaled your scent, you swore he could smell your fear. “But something tells me you’ll be a little more fun to torment.”

“Okay Buddy let’s go.” All the while Jake was watching you, he didn’t notice his own guard coming to the door of his cell.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Jake argued as he turned around to face the guard. “Where the hell are we!? what are you doing with her!?” It was hard to watch but it happened quicker than you could look away. “Ahhh!” Jake fell to his knees as the guard in his cell tased his side. Sending volts of electricity through his body that he couldn’t fight.

“Jake!” You tried to rush to his aid but the man who had come for you held you back against his chest and placed a rough hand over your mouth.

“I swear to god if I didn’t have orders to keep you alive I’d smear your guts along the walls of this fucking cell.” He hissed before spinning you around only to shove you out of your cell into the hall. “Now fucking walk, I don’t wanna have to tell you again.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Although you were being shoved out into the corridor your eyes wouldn’t leave Jake as he laid fetal style on the dirt floor of his cell. “I asked you a question!” Your insubordination cost you a slap across the face hard enough to nearly crack your neck. Jake heard it, the other guard heard it.

“God I wanna fuck the fire out of this one.” The guy manhandling you snickered at his partner.

“Not yet.” Was all the guy who was towering over Jake replied. You watched with a whine as he brought his leg back only to kick Jake and kick Jake hard right in his gut while he was down. “Take her to The Commander.” Again there was a harsh kick that had Jake groaning in unbearable pain, but all you could do was watch and take in small identifiable features of your captors.

Deep voices, tall, the hand that had wrapped itself around your mouth was caucasian, the size boot of the guard kicking Jake had to have at least been a ten or more. Small, hopefully valuable pieces of a much larger puzzle.

“Is that all you’ve got, big guy?” You heard Jake laugh as he tried to get up off the ground as you were being ushered along. You saw it coming the second his arrogance slips past his tongue. That same taser that had jolted Jake in his side was now pressed into his neck.

“JAKE!” There was no answer, no response or sign of life as you rounded the corner struggling. “Let go of me!” It was everything he’d told you not to do. “Let go of me!” But you needed to fight. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” It was then again you were hit with that same paralytic as before, a sharp sting followed by a quick burning sensation left your vision darkened and distorted before you were falling to your knees.

Unable to move and unable to fight.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

When you’re little, nighttime is scary because there are monsters hiding right under your bed. When you get older, the monsters are different. Self doubt, loneliness, regret. And though you may be older and wiser–you still find yourself scared of the dark.

The room you woke up in was dark and all consuming but just from the smell alone seemed cleaner than the grim covered cell you’d just been dragged from. All at once, all the lights were in—blinding you in bright white light.

“I’m sorry my men had to get so physical with you so soon into your stay with us.” You heard a man speak from the corner of the room. “I’m hoping once we have a chat about what exactly it is you and your comrade are doing here that I’ll be able to tell them to be a little less hostile.” He spoke calmly, level headed.

“Who are you?” You strained against the restraints keeping you down on the chair you found yourself in.

“You can call me The Commander.” Was all he said as he stalked around the room. To your surprise the more your eyes allowed the light in, the more you came to realise he was on full display. No dark clothes, no hidden identity. Just a simple man in a simple suit. He looked well kept, clean and shaven. Like he had just come off Wall Street. “And what can I call you in return?” He asked politely enough as he sat down on the edge of a barron desk.

“Hollywood.” You simply croaked out. He nodded in a sign of gratitude. You were still assessing your situation.

“You and your friend seem to have been flying a little too far away from home don’t you think?” The room you were in smelt of chemical cleaner and notes of bourbon. The bourbon must have been from The Commander himself.

“Well the US hasn’t always been known for keeping within its sovereign borders.” You sighed, still coming to. “Has it.” The Commander chuckled at your wit as he stalked towards you.

“Still doesn’t answer my question Hollywood?” He reminded you as he towered over your still sitting body. He was harsh as he gripped at your face to make sure you were looking up at him. “Why are you here?”

“The google reviews on your accommodation package need some updating.” You answered proudly. “Only reason I’m here is because the reviews said the rooms were bright and spacious.” It earned it a fist to the side of the face. “Ahh!”

“I’m not a patient man.” The Commander explained as he remained towering over you. “I’ll get what I want and I’ll go to any lengths to get it.” He paused as he bent over to level with you. “Just ask Captain Hewens.” The look on your face must have been enough to tell The Commander exactly what he needed to know. That you weren’t so confident after all. “It’s simple, you give me what I want and I won’t kill your friend.” At the mere mention of Jake your heart rate increased enough to send heat racing to your cheeks as you strained against your restraints. “Bring him in.” The Commander ordered as double doors that rivaled something straight out of an asylum busted open.

The two guards, you’d decided to nickname them dumb and dumber, dragged Jake in. They both carried his weight with one arm each as his head slumped and his head hung low.

“Oh my god.” You gasped at the sight of Jake before you. He was beaten pretty badly, to the extent where his face was all swollen and cut up. “Jake—“

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He made sure to let you know.

“Now you see Hollywood, I’m in search of information that might aid me in the process of furthering my reach across the globe.” You weren’t all that focused on the explanation you were being given, all you could focus on was Jake at your feet, lying on his back looking up at you.

“But before we move onto that, I need to know what exactly the two of you were sent here to do.” The Commander walked across the room to pick up a single knife. “And you’re going to tell me just what your government sent you here to do.” The Commander lingered on his explanation as he made his way over to where Jake laid on the ground at your feet, spent and just trying to catch his breath. “You’re going to answer some of my questions and if you don’t I’m gonna slit the Lieutenant's throat.”

“Don’t you touch him.” Sleep. It's the easiest thing to do. “Don’t.” You hissed as you watched the Commander crouch down to lift Jake's head up by his blood stained hair. Jake laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. It was nearly insane sounding.

“Jokes on you, I like having my hair pulled.” You caught the moment Jake sent you a struggled wink before he rammed the back of his head right against The Commander's nose. The crack was unreal—it echoed off the walls as he stumbled back a few steps and cupped at his nose. “But usually by pretty women.” Again there was a wink, Jake's arrogance was shining through the imminent peril the two of you were in.

For a guy who looked as if he’d been beaten within an inch of his life, Jake moved pretty quick. He sprung up onto his feet and swung at The Commander the second he got a chance to.

You winced as Jake tackled The Commander to the ground, the knife in his handle went sliding across the floor in a spectacular fashion, catching the fluorescent light as it twirled around.

“Piece of shit!” It was pure anger as Jake let The Commander have it. He straddled the well kept man’s waist as he landed punch after punch after punch. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?”

You knew it was over before it even started the second the hospital style double doors opened with a boisterous thud once again. Three men dressed head to toe in dark clothing entered the room with quick haste. One made his way over to you while the other two raced over to where Jake was giving the Commander his all.

Sleep. You just close your eyes and drift away. But for so many people, sleep seems out of their grasp.

You want it, so bad, but you don't know how to get it. How to obtain such a hot commodity.

“Get off of me!!” Jake spat as he was hoisted off the man in the suit with soulless eyes and an empty heart. “Get the fuck off me!” He was made to kneel as his arms were held out. When Jake had actually stopped fighting his heart sank into his stomach.

There you were—strapped to the chair with one of the men holding a gun to your temple. Jake watched as your bottom lip quivered and your eyes welled with tears. You’d cried so many tears.

“I’ll start easy shall I?” The Commander spat blood as he rose to his feet and fixed his suit jacket. “Names, I want both your names.” His tone had changed, The Commander was angry, no doubt about it. “Don’t answer and I’ll kill her right now, right in front of you.”

“Don’t tell them anything.” Jake looked at you like you were the only one in the room. “I’m right here, it’s okay.”

“WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES!”

“I’m not telling you shit!” Jake swore time stood still as he watched the guard behind you move the gun from your temple and fired one single shot into your upper thigh. Your screams could have burst his eardrums as you cried out in shock and pain. The realisation set in quickly that they were serious—it wasn’t just a bluff. Jake and his actions had gotten you shot.

“I’ll give you one last chance to tell me exactly who you are before I blow her fucking brains out right here right now.” Jake's knees felt weak as deep crimson began to seep into your flight suit. This was real, holy shit this was really fucking real.

“My name is Lieutenant Jacob ‘Hangman’ Seresin, and the woman you just shot is Lieutenant Y/N ‘Hollywood’ Y/L/N.” Jake explained as guilt flooded his broken and battered system. He stayed kneeling on the ground before you as your painful cries filled the silence.

“Good.” The Commander was satisfied enough. “Someone run their files, I want addresses, stations, friends and family names, you name it.” He added as he gestured for his guards to let Jake go. “Let her go.” He nodded before the man with the gun lowered his weapon. You felt like you could breathe once again. “Someone get me a suture kit and rubbing alcohol.”

It was all getting blurry, the voices, the room. Blood was pouring out of your thigh at a rate you recognized to be dangerous. Jake moved over to where you sat, now unrestrained. He assessed your thigh before placing his hands on your cheeks to wipe away your tears.

“I’m so sorry—“ It was an apology bathed in the deepest of sympathies. The Commander watched as Jake kneeled between your legs. It sparked an idea inside his mind that would make it a hell of a lot easier to get the information he needed.

“I hope you’ve got steady hands there Lieutenant Seresin.” The Commander snickered as he rolled his cuffs up. “Wouldn’t want your partner bleeding out.” It didn’t take Jake long at all to figure out what was happening, because the moment he was handed the suture kit? He knew he was going to have to get used to your agonising whimpers. “Try not to make her scream too much, I’ve got a fucking headache.”

“I’m really tired.” You mumbled as your head fell forward against Jake's shoulder. He did his best to hold back his own tears as you worked to cup his hand over the bleeding. The other held the back of your head as he turned to kiss your temple softly. “Jake—“

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He spoke as softly as ever as the Commander and his insurgents left the clean near sterile room. Leaving just you and Jake behind. “I’m gonna fix you up, don’t worry, you can rest.”

“Mmmm—don’t ever try to be a hero again.” Jake nodded as he let out a painful sob. This wasn’t what he had signed up for. This wasn’t part of the mission parameters.

“Just stay with me Hollywood.” Sleep, it didn’t always come easy. But once you face your demons, face your fears, and turn to each other for help–night time isn't all that scary. “I’ve got you.” It was the last thing you heard before everything went dark. But you felt a comfort, a warm embrace that kept you safe.

Why? Because you realised soon enough that you weren’t all alone in the dark.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

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