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hotchnisslvr · 16 days

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reconciliation (pt.2 to how do we carry on?)

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: t

genre: hurt/comfort with a happy ending

word count: 7.2k

tagged readers: @izakopanyi2 @polireader @jihyowrrld @twilightlover2007 @queenanababy @feyrecarol @rousethemouse @endofthexline @jxvipike @donttrustlove @hiireadstuff @jenna50 @michasia24

The coffee that was hot an hour ago is cold and bitter now. You grimace as the acrid taste slides down your throat. You try to place the disposable cup into your cup holder without taking your eyes off the road, but miss.The lid slips off and brown liquid sloshes over the edge onto the passenger seat. You curse as you grasp the wheel with one hand while you try to mop up the spill with what random napkins you’ve acquired since you started driving. Fortunately, your purse is spared any damage, but the road map and photograph you’ve kept on the seat aren’t as lucky. Ignoring the map, you pick up the photograph and shake it, splattering drops of coffee across the dash. The edges curl slightly, but the photo itself is fine. You hold it awkwardly between your fingers as you return your hand to the steering wheel.

There aren’t many cars on the road at this hour. You glance down at the dashboard and see 02:32 illuminated in green. You aren’t sure where you’re going, you just know you can’t stay there. Even your own apartment didn’t feel secure, not with how much of him is there. Your lives are so intertwined, you see and feel him everywhere you go. It’s what makes, made? God, you don’t even know anymore. It’s what is so beautiful about your relationship, how seamlessly your lives blend together that you’re not sure where yours and his start and end. You’re both so fiercely independent while being so devoted and wholly part of the threads that make up one another’s lives.

Or so you thought.

As you slow to a stop at the red light, the only car at the four way intersection, your eyes fall to the coffee stained image between your fingers. You’re smiling at the camera meanwhile Aaron is looking and smiling down on you, the soft shimmer in his deep brown eyes captured by the lens. It’s your favorite picture. You took it from the frame at the front table before leaving. The sound of his sobs echo in your ears as the red light reflecting on the photo paper shines green. You blink and drop the photo onto the center console before shifting your gaze back to the road. A sign ahead reads to keep left to stay on I-95 South. Richmond and Virginia Beach are in big white letters under it.

Three years you’ve lived in Virginia, and you’ve never made it to the coast. Shifting the steering wheel, you guide the vehicle into the left lane and take the exit.

•

As the waves lap at your ankles, you close your eyes and turn your face toward the sun, the briny sea breeze gently tossing your hair. You inhale deeply and the sigh you exhale is overtaken by the quiet roar of the ocean.

Turns out getting a beachfront house isn’t as expensive as one might think in the off season and fortunately for you, Virginia afternoons in September still reach the high eighties.

The beach house is nothing fancy, more like a beach shack if you’re being honest. It’s one floor supported on high rafters, old wooden steps leading down to the sand. You climb them now and they creak beneath your weight. A half rusted outdoor shower squeals to life when you reach the deck and twist the faucet. You shiver as you rinse the sand off of your legs and arms, and well, everywhere. There aren’t many crevices it doesn’t manage to stick to. You swipe the pink and white striped towel you’d found in the linen closet off the railing and wrap it around your body. Once it’s tightly secured around your chest, you work off the cheap bikini you’d purchased at a year round souvenir shop down the road and spread it out to dry.

The screen door squeaks on its hinges as you enter the house. You should probably go for a proper shower and wash the sea out of your hair, but you can’t be assed. Instead, you crack open the fridge and inspect the pathetic hodge podge of groceries you’d purchased at the corner store. Food doesn’t even sound appealing. It hasn’t for days. Every time you try to eat, you just feel sick. Your stomach roils at the thought and you grab a seltzer water before closing the fridge with a grimace.

As you exit the kitchen, your eyes catch your phone and keys on the chipped granite counter. The black screen of your phone glints beneath the fluorescent kitchen lighting. You’d turned it off when you’d arrived, ignoring the fact that you had 8 missed calls from Hotch and twice as many unread messages from him. There’d been one missed call from Emily, a name you never thought you’d see flash across your screen again. God knows how many times you’d called her phone just to hear her voice recording before leaving a message about how much you missed her and wished she were there to give you advice or talk through a case. For a fraction of a second, you wonder now if she’s gotten the chance to hear those voicemails you’d left her. Did she hear the pain in your voice? Did she feel guilt over the messages where all you’d managed to choke out were incoherent sobs? All this time you thought you’d been talking to a ghost, but she’d been out there all along.

You tear your gaze away from the counter, leaving your phone where it is and cross the cream colored carpet to the small bedroom. Yellow wallpaper splashed with repeating patterns of palm fronds plaster the four walls. The bed frame is made up of white wicker and you fall back onto the comforter, the front of which is decorated with images of shells and starfish. None of the patterns in this house match, but you don’t care. You care about very little right now.

Before you can run away down that thought pattern, there’s a knock at the door. You sit up, brow furrowed, as you lean forward on your knees, as if doing so will suddenly grant you the ability to see through walls and who could possibly be here.

Maybe the owner? A neighboring off season beach goer? Hesitantly, you rise from the bed and tug on one of the guest robes that had been hanging in the bathroom. You drop your towel and shrug it on, tying it tightly around your waist before approaching the front door. You move slowly for two reasons: one, no one should know you’re here and you don’t know why someone would be calling on you, and two; what if it’s Aaron?

The knocking repeats. It's light but firm, definitely not Aaron. A woman, you think. You twist the deadbolt and pull open the door, surprise etching into your features as a woman a few years older than you stands behind the second screen door.

“Hi, uh, can I help you?” you ask awkwardly.

The girl’s dark eyes travel up and down your body. She looks at you through the door from beneath long lashes, a knowing smile playing on her lips. You can’t control the shocked gasp that leaves your mouth when she asks for you by name.

You try your best to school your facial expressions and by the slight smirk that crosses the girl’s face, you know you did a pretty poor job of doing so. “Who wants to know?” you ask, wondering if she’s someone who’s crossed paths with you before through work.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she answers, drawing out the last syllable of his name with an amused glint in her eye.

You can’t fight the eye roll that follows. Unbelievable. “Sorry, he wasted your time.” You move to close the door, but she throws open the screen door and catches it with her foot.

Your eyes flash to hers and you see the challenge in the depth of her hazel gaze, equal to the one in yours. “Hotch wouldn’t have reached out to me unless he was desperate,” she adds. “I think you might want to hear me out.” She extends a hand toward you. “I’m Elle, Greenaway to the BAU, but when I left I shortened it to Greene.”

Your brow furrows as the name rings the slightest of bells in the back of your mind. Hesitantly, you accept her ring adorned hand and shake it as your brain sifts through the number of agents you’d heard stories about in the time before you joined the team.

“How did you find me?” you ask as you step aside and admit her into the house.

Elle nods graciously as she looks around, though there’s not much to size up in the small rental unit.

“You think Hotch didn’t immediately have Penelope ping your phone when you left?”

You exhale sharply. “I turned my phone off.”

A short laugh leaves Elle, “Not soon enough.” She turns, a hand on her hip. “You got any beer?”

Your brow furrows, wondering who the hell you just invited into your house. You shake your head as you cross into the kitchen and open the fridge. You withdraw a big bottle you’d bought at the corner drug store. “I’ve got wine.”

Elle smiles. “That’ll work. Let’s head down to the beach.”

•

“Thanks,” Elle says coolly as you finish tipping wine into the plastic cup in her hand. You cap the bottle and shove it down into the sand between the foldable beach chairs you’d dragged down from their place on the deck after you’d gotten changed into something more appropriate to wear outside than a bathrobe.

You retrieve your cup from where you’d been holding it between your legs and take a long sip before sighing and settling back into your chair, the canvas stretching as you do so.

For a moment, you and Elle sit there in silence; watching the orange pink colors of the sunset start to streak across the sky as the waves crash against the sand.

“I had no idea about Haley,” she says after another minute goes by and you stiffen. It isn’t that you and Aaron never talk about her. Keeping her memory alive is so important for Jack and you know a part of Hotch will always love her. That’s never bothered you though. Aaron had told you that he and Haley had talked about that if something ever happened to either one of them that they would want the other to eventually move on and find love again, that they didn’t want the other one to spend the rest of their life lonely. I’m sure neither one of them ever imagined something like what had happened to Haley would ever come to pass though.

“Did you know her?” you ask, your voice tight with emotion at the thought of ever having to endure a loss like that. You’d joined the team years after her death and hadn’t known Hotch during the time he’d grieved her loss. From the stories he and Jack had shared, she seemed like she’d been a kind soul and a good mother.

Elle nods, her gaze fixed on the view though you see a glint of memory in her eyes. “Hotch wasn’t as serious then.” She pauses and smirks to herself. “Don’t get me wrong, he was still a hard ass, but there was also a lightness to him before and right after Jack was born. I remember when they first brought him into the office, such a tiny little thing all bundled up in his arms. Him and Haley had looked so at ease.” She sighs and takes a swig of her wine before continuing. “I think that’s when the job started to get to him, after he had a kid.” Her brow pinches for a moment. “I think Hotch started to see the men and women we put away more as the proverbial monsters that kids fear are lurking in their closets, except we know what horribly evil things the monsters are really capable of versus what a kid’s imagination can drum up. The worst their little minds can conjure up pales in comparison to the heinous files that cross his desk. I think Hotch wanted to protect that innocence so badly and shield Jack from all of the evil in the world that he threw himself further and further into his work, especially after how things with The Fisher King went down.” Your eyes don’t miss the way her hand presses against her abdomen. The stake jutting out of Emily’s stomach flashes in your mind and you flinch at the memory.

“Something happened,” observes Elle. She sits up in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees as she looks at you.

You scoff and take another drink, shaking your head as you do so. “Once a profiler, always a profiler.”

Elle chuckles and shrugs. “Old habits die hard.” Her features soften as she turns toward you. “Something happened though, didn’t it? I know you probably can’t share too many details. Hotch didn’t in the voicemail he left you.”

You perk up at that. “Voicemail?”

Elle nods, the gold hoops in her ears swinging as she does so. “Sorry,” she laughs coolly as she reaches into the pocket of her jeans. “I probably should’ve led with that.” She fishes her cell phone out and swipes her thumb across the screen. You brace yourself as Aaron’s throaty tenor echoes from the speaker on her phone.

“Elle, hi,” he starts and stops. An exasperated sigh follows. “It’s Aaron Hotchner with the BAU I—of course you know I’m with the BAU I don’t know why I led with that. Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from after all of these years but I didn’t know who else to call. I can’t,” his voice wavers here for a moment. “I can’t share details about the case we’re working on, but it’s bad and I had to make a decision.” He stops and clears his throat. “It was a decision that impacted the whole of the team and where it was for their protection, I may have ruined the best thing to have happened to me in years. Look, I know you left the Bureau. I know you changed your name to put distance between you and the BAU, and I don’t blame you. In fact, I think I understand you now more than ever. This job, the toll it takes—” his voice trails off and you hold your breath in anticipation. He goes on to explain who you are and why you left, obfuscating the exact details of the Ian Doyle case for security reasons. He explains how after no one had heard from you for forty eight hours that he’d worked with Garcia to ping your location, how he was more worried than anything else and just needed to know that you were safe. When Penelope had located you, he remembered that Elle had always talked about living on the coast. It had been a shot in the dark, but Penelope being Penelope, she’d been able to find Elle in a matter of hours. “I just need to know she’s safe,” he breathes. “Please, Elle. If anything happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t lose someone else. I have to do better; by you, by Haley, by the team. I’ll spend the rest of my life making amends, but please, with this case still active, I just need to know that she’s ok. Call me back,” his voice quavers. “Please.”

The line goes dead and Elle slides her phone back into her pocket. “That was three days ago.” Elle’s brow arches, looking for a response. “So,” she adds, drawling out the ‘o’ sound. “Sounds heavy.”

You draw in a deep breath and down the rest of your wine. Aaron had sounded so tired on the phone. Guilt squeezes around your heart as you think about what he and the team must be dealing with. It’s reckless and stupid of you to have just up and left when Doyle is still out there with you and the rest of his team in your sights. You didn’t even bring your gun, sure that you’d be sending in your resignation after this cover up; but hearing his voice on Elle’s phone, the pain in it. What you’d been trying to ignore this entire time begins to wriggle its way toward the forefront of your mind; and that’s the hell this must have put Hotch and Emily through. You know he’d never do anything to hurt you, not intentionally, but how are you supposed to trust him if he could watch you suffer through the agony of her loss knowing at any point in time he could’ve put a stop to it? You squeeze your eyes shut because you know the obvious answer. There are things he has to do as Unit Chief, choices only he can make. Choices that don’t involve you or the rest of the team, and that doesn’t change because you two are an item. Still, the conflict wages on inside of you. All of this is true and he’s made choices and decisions that impact the team before, just never on this scale; not something that alters memories and fucks the psyche so irreparably.

“The heaviest,” you finally respond.

“You can talk to me about it,” she says, and you know her words are genuine. “I know I don’t have clearance anymore, so the cliff notes version works too.”

So, you tell her. About Emily, about Hotch, what you can about Doyle, the circumstances around Emily’s death, the grief, her undeath, the betrayal you felt, and everything that brought you to this moment with her.

Elle releases a low whistle and scoops the wine bottle up from the sand, pouring herself another glass and topping yours off. “That’s—” She pops her lips, considering. “Elaborate.”

“I’d say mind-fuck, but elaborate works too.” You quip bitterly and take a drink.

Elle cocks her head. “Hotch doesn’t do anything without careful consideration.”

You inhale deeply before taking another drink, a warmth starting to crawl beneath your flesh as the alcohol sinks in. You hang your head as you respond. “I know.”

“There’s a reason that I left the Bureau,” Elle says after a long stretch of silence. “I made a decision that ended my career, and it’s one I’d make again if I had to.” Her voice grows tight for a moment before she clears her throat and continues. “This job will drain you until there’s nothing left. I remember on the day I left I told Hotch about how I’d get so excited when my phone rang because it meant we had a case; but after I got shot in my own house and was lying on the floor feeling that man’s fingers inside of my gut, something changed in me forever that day. I went back to work after some time, but it was never the same. After that, every time my phone rang I felt paralyzed with fear because I knew what it was like to feel the way those victims felt in the moments leading up to their deaths.” Her voice quavers for a second and she swipes at a stray tear before choking out a laugh. “You’re not the same after something like. I know what it’s like to come back from the brink of death, and it sounds like this Emily knows too.” She stretches out a hand and grips your knee. “The only difference is that after I nearly died, I had the team. I had Spencer, Derek, Penelope, and JJ, hell Hotch was the one that came to my house and scrubbed the blood off of my walls before I got out of the hospital.” Her brow arches in response to my widening eyes. “Didn’t know that, did you?” She smiles and reclines back in her seat. “Emily didn’t have that. She didn’t have her friends, family,” she corrects. “Let’s be honest, the BAU becomes your family after a while.”

You nod in agreement.

“She went through that alone,” Elle continues and a pang of guilt shoots through you. “She didn’t have her family to turn to in a time where she probably needed you the most.”

It’s your turn to swipe at the tears that loose from your eyes. “I know that.” Your voice is tight as you choke back a sob. “I’ve always trusted the team, every one of them. How—” you suck in a shaky breath. “How am I supposed to trust them after this? What’s to stop something like this from happening again?”

Elle’s lips purse. “That’s the job we signed up for, isn’t it? Working for the government and all the shitty red tape they weave in and around the work we do.”

“If I go back,” you start. “I don’t think they’ll forgive me. I left when they needed me most. Doyle is still out there.”

Elle frowns and tilts her head back and forth. “You’ll never know if you don’t though. I couldn’t go back. My actions decided that for me. You have a choice, but you’re the only one that can make it.” She glances down at her watch and then out at the sun. It’s almost completely sunken down beneath the sea over the horizon, the orange and pink sunset fading to the purple gray hues of dusk. “I should probably get going.” She sets her cup down in the sand and stands, turning to you as she does so.

“Here,” she says, passing you a card from the back pocket of her jeans.

You take it, fingering the edges of the sturdy cardstock. Elle Greene: Social Services Coordinator is embossed in dark blue font followed by a cell phone, office number, and email listed beneath it.

“Call me if you ever want to talk. There are ways to do some good in this world without sacrificing your own happiness in the process.” She smiles at you before she starts toward the path that leads around the house and back to the road.

After a few moments, you jump up and call after her. “Hey Elle!”

She turns, brow arched toward her hairline as she waits for you to continue.

“Why’d you come?”

She slips her hands into her pockets and doesn’t say anything for a while, her green eyes focusing on her feet. When she looks up at you, there’s the faintest of smiles on her lips. “The day I left the Bureau I looked Hotch in the eye and told him that I used to wonder why he didn’t smile. When I heard that voicemail, despite how defeated he sounded, there was something in his voice that made me believe he’d found something to smile about again. When you work the job that you do, that I used to do, you have to hold on for dear life when you find the things that can make you smile after witnessing the things we do. I guess I don’t want him to lose what made him find his smile again; even after all these years I’ve spent angry at Hotch, I never hated him.” She sighs and looks like she wants to say more, but chooses not to. “Running away doesn’t solve your problems, it just keeps them at a distance until you’re finally brave enough to face them. I hope you find clarity faster than I did.” Her jeweled rings catch the last rays of sun as she raises a hand in farewell. “I’ll see you around.”

•

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them, the blue and green plaid fabric of the couch scratching the backs of your legs as you do so. You bite at your thumb nail as you eye your powered down cell phone from where it sits on the glass coffee table in front of you.

Elle’s words from two days ago hang heavy in the air around you.

Running away doesn’t solve your problems. It just keeps them at a distance until you’re brave enough to face them. I hope you find clarity faster than I did.

If you turn on your phone, you know there will be a barrage of voicemails and text messages waiting for you. Or, there won’t be anything more than there was when you first shut it down. You turned your back on them when they needed you. It would be easy to write you off, after all that’s what you did isn’t it?

You drop your head back against the couch and groan, the feelings at war within you tearing at your insides; your guts twisted with equal parts betrayal over Hotch not telling you and the guilt of leaving the team instead of facing that anger and hurt head on.

It’s a giant mess; a tangled web of necessary lies and the red tape that binds the hands of those in positions over you and the rest of the team. The rational part of you understands this. In black and white terms, you understand that Unit Chief SSA Agent Aaron Hotchner had to make a decision to protect another agent, SSA Emily Prentiss. While Ian Doyle is a fugitive from the law believing her to be dead, her going into hiding not only took the target off of her back, but off the backs of all of your team members, yourself included, who otherwise would’ve been collateral damage in Doyle’s relentless pursuit of vengeance against Emily. All of this makes perfect sense.

It’s when the emotional, feeling half of you comes into play that the black and white turns to splotchy streaks of gray and you struggle to make peace with the rational side of things. When you look at it through this lens, your boyfriend and long term partner, Aaron, watched you throw up from dehydration over how long and how hard you’d sobbed over the death of best friend, Emily. At any point, he could’ve put a stop to your pain and didn’t.

Your fingers slide into your hair, gently tugging at the roots as you try to sort through these warring versions of yourself and the pieces of information and emotions that come with each. Because in your heart, you know and understand it’s not black and white. It’s gray and it’s messy. So, why can’t you reconcile both halves of yourself and just be okay with this then? Why can’t you just be overjoyed by the fact that your best friend is back from the literal dead? How many people in this life can say that that’s happened for them? Why can’t you just tell Aaron you understand what he did because you do, but at the same time you don’t? You wouldn’t have told anyone, but then that would be Aaron showing you preferential treatment and you’d be in no better position than he or JJ when it came to hiding this fact from the rest of the team. It’s something you’d talked about extensively when you first started dating and so far, it has been fine. He makes decisions that sometimes you agree with, sometimes you don’t. It is always just part of the job. So what does it all boil down to? Where does this leave you?

“Fuck me,” you whisper aloud as you dive forward and swipe the phone off of the table before you can really think about what you’re doing. You hold down the button on the side and it titters to life. For a moment, you close your eyes as you feel the vibrations pulsing in the palm of your hand, each one a notification of some sort. When they cease, you swipe directly to your contacts and select Aaron’s. His is the first to show alphabetically anyway. Your thumb hovers over the call button for only a second, before you exhale a shaky breath and hit the dial.

The phone barely presses against your ear as you catch the tail end of his hello. It’s after hearing his voice, that you’re rendered speechless.

“Baby, are you there?”

Your chest rises and falls, your heart rate quickening beneath your chest. You sniff as tears prick your eyes, not realizing how much you’d missed his voice until now.

“Aaron,” you squeak out, your voice cracking on his name.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Hotch says, a plea in his apology. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to fix this. I miss you. I love you.”

A sob shudders free from your lips as all of your walls come tumbling down and you let yourself break down to pieces of ash and stone. “I’m sorry I ran when you needed me.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron soothes. “It’s okay. It's over. We got him.”

You sit up and swipe under your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Doyle?”

“He’s dead.”

Panic rises in you. “And the team? Is everyone—”

“Everyone is fine. No one was hurt.”

You close your eyes and sink back into the cushions as your pulse levels out. “I’m on my way.”

“There’s no need,” he replies coolly.

Your brow pinches. “I don’t—”

The sound of a car door slamming echoes beyond the front door. You stand and the old t-shirt that belongs to Aaron falls to your thighs as you do so. You’d not even realized you’d packed it until you pulled it on after your shower earlier. The linoleum creaks beneath your feet as you cross through the kitchen and unlock the deadbolt. When you pull open the door, you gasp and drop your phone.

Aaron’s lips tremble as he smiles at you and takes the phone down from his ear. He ends the call and slips it into the pocket of his slacks. “I got in the car and just started driving,” he says as his glimmering eyes flit across yours, always the profiler checking for micro expressions. A desperate smile clings to his lips as he looks at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathe in response; unable to think of what else to say at the moment

His smile falters as he takes a step closer to you. You see his hand twitch ever so slightly at his side.

“Honey, I—”

You leap forward and throw your arms around his neck. He breathes a sigh of relief into your hair as his arms fold around you, his hands pressed flat against your back as if he can somehow hold you closer than he already is. His hands slide up your spine to curl around the back of your neck. When he pulls away, there are tear stains on his cheeks.

You reach up and swipe your thumbs under his eyes, his skin smooth beneath your touch. A smirk tugs at one corner of your mouth as you wonder when he had time to shave.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you say, still cupping his cheek in your hand.

He nods as he leans into your touch. “I know,” he says softly.

“I know why you had to do what you did.”

Another tear leaks from his eye as he presses his forehead to yours, cradling your hand against his cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you or anyone else, but I had to protect you.”

“I know,” you say and you mean it. “I also know why you couldn’t tell me. I’m a coward for running away, but I just—I was so overwhelmed by everything. I didn’t know how to cope with your return, with Emily’s, with everything. I would’ve been a hindrance if I’d stayed, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run.”

Hotch shakes his head as he steps back to look at you, the dark slash of his brow set as he does so. “What you did was not an act of cowardice. Trust me when I say you are not the only one that has a lot of anger and frustration aimed at me right now. Spencer snapped twice at JJ. Morgan laid into me, and I deserved it. JJ and I always knew that if and when this came to light, that there would be consequences for our actions. It was a calculated risk, and I take full responsibility for it. After you left, I gave everyone the option to leave if they didn’t think they could work the case. You knew you weren’t in the right headspace and pulled yourself out. It was the right decision and no one faults you for it.”

“I’m still so mad at you,” you say.

Aaron’s lips form a tight line. “I know.”

“But I also love you.”

His brow relaxes at that admission and relief floods his gaze. “I’ll take your use of the present tense as a good sign.”

You both chuckle at that and a shiver races through you as a sea breeze catches your hair and sends goosebumps up and down your arms. You wrap your arms around yourself and incline your head toward his SUV. “Your go bag in there?”

He nods and you flick your eyes up and down the length of his figure. “Go on then,” you encourage. “Get it and come inside before I change my mind.” You smile and you feel it reach your eyes for the first time in nearly a week. He withdraws the key fob from his pocket and smiles at it in his hand, before shaking his head with a quiet laugh and turns to head toward the car.

He pops the trunk and returns with his bag slung over his shoulder. “You look good in my shirt,” he compliments you with a sly smile as he passes through the front door. You close and lock the door behind him and point towards the bedroom. “Don’t think flattery will get you off the hook, Aaron.”

“You’re pointing me toward the bedroom, so I can only hope that’s a good sign.”

“Nearly a week has given me a lot of time to think,” you call after him as he disappears inside.

When he returns, his suit jacket is off and he’s loosening his tie from around his neck. “And what conclusion have you come to?”

“To be determined,” you muse as you approach him. You finger the tip of his tie and curl your fingers around it before tugging it free and dropping it to the floor.

One of Aaron’s brows arches as he regards you curiously. His hand curves around your hip and you press yourself against him. Heat pools in your belly, but you ignore the sensation, hard as that is after nine months without him. He dips his chin to kiss you and instead of meeting your mouth, he meets your finger instead. You press it against his lips and arch a brow. “Not so fast, Hotch.”

He winces and inhales sharply, a pink blush quickly coloring his cheeks. “I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.” He admits against your finger. “You only call me Hotch when I’m in trouble.”

Something between a scoff and a laugh leaves your lips as you poke him on the tip of his nose, the slope of which you’d missed so much since he’d been gone. “How about,” you start and loop your arms around his neck, “we just talk? From the beginning, tell me what went through your mind and what led to the decision. We can talk about Emily, her funeral, the grief. You can tell me what you can about Pakistan and I’ll tell you about how hard it was when you were gone. Tell me about when you and JJ knew you had to tell the team and I’ll tell you how it felt like I’d had my heart carved out of my chest and put through a blender. Tell me how it felt when I left and I’ll talk about the ways in which I wish I hadn’t but why I felt like I had to. Tell me why I should trust you and I’ll tell you why I want to, but am afraid. Tell me—”

Aaron catches your wrists in his hands and plants a firm kiss upon your lips. You envelope him with your own and revel in the familiar way they meld together, the taste of him like coming home. He pulls away, though his lips still hover over yours. “I promise I will tell you everything and more. We’ll talk until the sun comes up if that’s what it takes.”

You smile and when you speak, your lips brush against his. “I guess I ought to put some coffee on then.”

•

White rays of early morning sunshine break through the sheer curtains, casting soft light across the bed sheets. For the first time in nearly a year, you wake with Aaron’s arm securely around your waist. You breathe in deeply and the faint smell of coffee lingers in the air, two empty mugs leaving brown rings on the nightstand.

You don’t remember when you two had laid down to go to sleep, but remember laughing about it being 3:00 AM at one point and continuing talking in spite of that; and talked you two had. You’d tackled everything from the decision he and JJ made at the hospital all the way up until right now. You laughed and cried, and so did he. You’d never seen Aaron cry before last night, and you were grateful that he’d felt safe enough with you to be vulnerable like that. As the night had worn on, you’d felt the fractured pieces of yourself slowly start to pull together; that you can both heal from this and maybe even come out stronger on the other side.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand and you reach for it, now being as good a time as any to tackle the number of unread texts and unheard voicemails. You can’t avoid them forever.

8 voicemails from Hotch, 2 from JJ, 6, from Penelope, 1 from Derek, and 1 from Emily. Your brow knits together as you view the time stamp next to her voicemail and it’s marked only an hour ago. Why would she have called you so early? Surely, Hotch would’ve let the team know that you’re safe and that he’s with you.

You open the app and press play, bringing the phone to your ear to avoid disturbing Hotch and Emily’s voice fills your head as you listen in.

“I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now…” Her voice is tired and her tone is genuinely apologetic. “…I missed everyone so much, but you. It tore me up inside knowing we didn’t get to say goodbye, that I didn’t get to explain to you why all of this had to happen and you had to mourn me. I knew Hotch would take care of you.” She chuckles softly and you picture her shaking her head. “God, that man adores you, you know that right? Knowing he’d be there to help you through things was a small solace, but I knew that the weight of asking him to keep this from you and the rest of the team would take a toll on him. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Doyle, he never—he never would’ve stopped hunting me and he would’ve used or killed everyone close to me to do so. If there had been any other way, I would’ve done it.” She sighs heavily. “Anyway, Hotch texted the team and myself last night that he’d gotten to you safely in Virginia Beach. I imagine you and him had a lot to talk about last night. It’s probably going to look like I’m copying a page out of his book, but you’re the only person I haven’t looked in the eye and apologized to, so I’ll be there in about an hour or so. Hopefully, you open the door.”

Your eyes widen as you drop the phone back onto the nightstand. After glancing at the clock and noticing it had been an hour and fifteen minutes since she called, you slip out of bed. Hotch stirs, but doesn’t wake and his hand moves to shift under the pillow and he nestles deeper into the blankets. God, he must be so exhausted. From the red eye flight from Pakistan to immediately leaping into and closing the Ian Doyle case, this is probably the first proper sleep he’s gotten in weeks.

The sound of tires crunching over gravel draws your attention to the living room. You pull on a pair of sweats and throw off the oversized shirt you’d slept in in exchange for a tank top, forgoing a bra in the process. You rush into the bathroom and rapidly brush your teeth, accepting there not being any time to fix your tousled bed head.

Footsteps echo up the walkway on the other side of the front door as you approach and before you can think it through, you throw the door open. You only take a second to confirm that it is in fact Emily on the other side of it before rushing forward and throwing your arms around her.

A loud oomph erupts from lips, the sound muffled as you turn your face into her neck. It takes a few seconds for her to react, her arms slowly folding around you as she realizes that it is in fact a hug that you’re giving her and not an attempt to take her to the ground.

Tears leak from your eyes onto the fabric of her purple top. “I’m sorry,” you murmur into her shoulder.

Emily pulls away, her hands not leaving your shoulders as her brown eyes flicker across your face; her features drawn. “You’re sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for. I came here to apologize.”

You shake your head as something between a laugh and a sob bubbles up from your throat. “I’m so mad at you,” you start and reach forward with both hands to clasp her face in yours. “But I am so happy that you’re not dead and I understand why you had to do what you did.” You smile and drop your hands before playfully shoving her. “A bit though, isn’t it? Faking your death and fleeing the country? Where’d you get that idea? Lifetime?”

Emily smiles, flashing her teeth as she inclines her head this way and that. “I did always have a flair for the dramatics.”

The door creaks then and you turn to watch Hotch push the door open. He smiles as he takes in the sight of you and Emily reconciling. “I put on a pot of coffee,” he says. “How many mugs should I bring out?”

You look between him and Emily. “Three,” you answer, turning your attention back to Emily. “Definitely three.”

Emily smiles and follows you inside, greeting Hotch with a short hug before joining you in the living room. As Hotch busies himself in the kitchen and the smell of coffee starts to fill the air, you start to feel like life might finally start to return to normal.

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mamaestapa · 6 months

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Happy Turkey Day|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•summary: You and Joe host the Burrow family Thanksgiving dinner

•warnings: mentions of secret weddings and fluff<3

“Joey, can you help me in here?” You called from the kitchen as you wiped your hands on a towel.

Joe got up from the couch and came into the kitchen to help you. He walked up behind you and put his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“What can I help you with baby?”

You pointed at the side dishes sitting on the counter, “Can you put those out on the table while I grab plates and silverware from the china hutch, please?”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. Joe removed his hand from your shoulder so he could grab the dish full of mashed potatoes in one hand, and the dish with green bean casserole in the other. You thanked your fiancé as you went into the other room to get the plates. With the plates in one hand and the silverware in the other, you walked into your dining room to set the table. Joe followed behind you with the last side dishes in his hands.

“These all look delicious, Y/n.” Joe said as he eyed the bowl full of mashed potatoes. You smiled and walked up to Joe after setting down the last silverware set wrapped in a red napkin. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you.

“Thank you,” you hummed, “Your mom and dad are bringing the ham, your favorite.”

Joe’s stomach let out a growl from a mix of the smell of the delicious sides hitting his nostrils and the mention of the ham his parents were bringing. You chuckled at the sound and pulled away from him, patting his belly as you teased him.

“Someone’s excited for some ham,” you chuckled, “don’t worry, I think your parents will be here soon.”

Just as you said that, the sound of the door bell ringing filled the silent house. Joe looked down at you, a smirk on his face as he said, “Right on cue.” You smiled and pulled away from Joe’s embrace, grabbing his hand and leading the two of you to the front door to let his family in.

You opened the door with a wide grin as you saw Robin and Jim standing on your doorstep.

“Hi sweetie!” Robin beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. “Hi Robin.” you smiled, giggling softly as the two of you gently squeezed each other.

You always had a great relationship with Joe’s mom. Robin was always like another mother to you.

You pulled away from Robin, letting her greet her son while you said your hello’s to Joe’s father, Jim. After greeting his parents, the four of you went back inside and finished up some last minute dinner preparations. As Robin helped you get the ham plated on a dish, Joe’s brothers and their wives arrived. You all greeted each other and soon enough your previously quiet home was bustling with laughter and loud voices from the Burrow family.

Once all the guests were settled, everyone gathered at the dinner table and began eating the wonderful Thanksgiving meal that you and Joe spent all day preparing. You were hesitant at first to host the Burrow Thanksgiving dinner this year, but it made your heart swell with joy seeing all of your new family members enjoying their time together at yours and Joe’s house.

As you all ate your dinner…you told stories, shared laughs, and had many servings of the delicious food you prepared. Joe had lost count of how many pieces of ham he’s had, but that didn’t matter. He was just happy to have his ham.

“So Y/n, Joe,” Robin spoke, making you and Joe turn your attention to her. She had a giddy smile on her face as she looked at the two of you, “Any new wedding plans?”

You glanced over at Joe, seeing the small smirk on his face as he took a sip of his water. You looked back at Robin with a soft smile.

“We finalized the important stuff yesterday, now we just have to wait for the big day.”

“I can’t wait.” Robin said. “Me neither,” Joe’s brothers wife chimed in, “Seeing you two get married will be such a beautiful thing.”

“We’re really excited.” Joe replied from beside you, a smirk still plastered on his face as he looked at you while he spoke.

You and Joe were keeping a huge secret from your family. That secret being that you two secretly got married at the courthouse a couple weeks ago. You didn’t have much of a reason to except that the two of you were just ready to finally be married. It was a big secret to keep, but it was one that kept for a reason. You and Joe wanted something special for just the two of you before you had your big ceremony in March.

And a courthouse wedding was perfect for that.

After everyone was full of turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, and all the casseroles, you and Joe cleared the table while the men went into the living room to watch football and the women put the leftovers away.

You and Joe insisted that you two would clean the table off because it was your house, but also because you wanted just a moment alone together.

Once you picked up the last plate, Joe walked up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I’m so thankful for you, Y/n.” he murmured, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. You turned around in his embrace and craned your neck up, blushing slightly as you looked into your fiancé’s beautiful blues. “I’m so thankful for you too, Joey.”

He smiled sweetly at you as the two of you leaned in for a kiss. You pulled away and put your forehead on his, a sly smile on your face.

“Happy Turkey Day, Mr. Anti-Turkey.” Joe rolled his eyes playfully as he replied, “Happy Turkey Day to you too, Mrs. Burrow.”

hi loves!!

happy thanksgiving🤍

i got the idea earlier to do some thanksgiving/holiday blurbs for joe and some hockey players, so here’s the first blurb of the night. i’ve been combining requests too, so i hope that’s OK with everyone that’s sent me something :) also, some of these might be on the shorter side (like this one), i hope that’s ok too

i’ll be posting these little blurbs and ideas throughout the night tonight and all day tomorrow—there’s a LOT, so i hope you’re excited!!☺️

i hope you all had a wonderful day eating lots of food and spending time with friends and family!!

(i’ve got a cute little dad joe blurb coming next🤍)

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow blurbs #joe burrow fic #thanksgiving blurbs

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rafedaddy01 · 9 months

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I neeeeed a drew starkey smut my little heart really desires for one 😩

Baby you don’t know me-

An: I got you babes

Summary: you and drew meet at a bar and he takes you home, he seems all sweet and innocent in the beginning but once the night takes a turn he shows you his “dark” side

You walked into the bar wearing ripped jeans and a crew-neck sweater. Perfect attire for the fall weather outside.

The bar was filled with people. Music was lightly playing and you and your friends took a seat at a booth.

“I’m gonna go order some drinks!” You exclaimed as you hopped out of your seat and made way to the bar.

You walked up and placed your order, scrolling through your instagram to pass the time.

As you grabbed your drinks and made way back to your seat a tall figure bumped into you.

“Shit! I’m so sorry” the man apologized as he grabbed some napkins from a near by table and tried helping you.

“It’s okay, really..” you said frustrated as you grabbed his wrist.

You both looked up and you were mesmerized by this man’s features.

His hair framed his face perfectly, his messy curtain bangs falling at the sides and his ocean blue eyes were pulling you in. You didn’t care about your soaked clothes or the glass at your feet. The black button up he was wearing was hugging his skin perfectly that you could see the muscles. His lips looked so soft.

“Um-“ you cleared your throat. “Don’t worry about it” you said laughing as you patted at your clothes.

“Let me get you another drink, it’s the least I could do” he said extending his hand.

You smiled nervously as you took it.

He led you back to the bar and placed an order for two drinks.

“I’m drew” he said smiling at you.

“Y/n” you said.

“So, what brings you out tonight?” He said leaning on the bar table.

“It’s one of my friends birthday, just out celebrating” you said pointing over to your friends who were too busy taking shots to realize you were gone.

“Oh, I’m not pulling you away from them am I?” He said leaning in a bit closer.

“No. No not at all, I think their a bit distracted” you said laughing.

As the night went on the two of you got to know each other better and indulged in a few drinks.

“Okay. I feel bad that your sitting in these soaked clothes.” He laughed as he pointed to your jeans that were still wet. “Wanna come over? My apartments just down the street, you can have a shower” he said.

“Sure. Why not!” You said.

The both of you made it to his apartment and he showed you to the bathroom, handing you a towel and some clothes of his.

“I’ll just be out here when your ready” he said smiling before he closed the door.

“Uh, drew?” You said before he could close it all the way.

“Hmm?” He asked confused as he opened the door wider.

You bit your lip and took a breath “can you help me out of these clothes? There just- there a bit to wet for me to take off.” You said nervously.

“Of course” he smiled as he came in and shut the door behind him.

He walked up behind you and pulled your sweater off, watching your face through the mirror. He reached in front of you and unbuttoned your jeans, your ass pressed against his crotch and he took a deep breath to contain his groan.

He shimmed your jeans down your body and once you were just in your bra and panties he flipped you over. Your back pushed against the counter and his hands on your waist, he leaned down a bit closer to your face.

“Anything else you need help with?”

“Maybe… maybe you could help me shower. You know, the least you could do after making me so wet..” you drew out the last word.

He smirked as he came down and kissed you. Your lips tangled with one another as his hands roamed your body, coming behind you and undoing your bra. He pulled back to stare at you.

You bit your lip as his gaze fell on your face again.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asked out of breath.

You nodded your head and he pulled you into a kiss once more, slipping his hands down to your panties, playing with the band as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. “Take them off” you muttered.

He harshly turned you around to face the mirror, your stomach pushed into the counter, his gaze met yours in the mirror and you bit your lip to conceal your moan as his hand traced your ass and pulled back then forward, laying a harsh smack to your ass cheek.

You jerked at the feeling and a small whimpered escaped your lips.

“Baby you don’t know what you got yourself into..” his husky voice whispered in your ear as he came down and kissed your spine.

Getting on his knees he pulled your panties down and admired the wet patch on them before throwing them on the ground.

He brought his attention back to your cunt as he gripped your ass cheeks and spread them wider, running his tongue up your slit.

You shuddered at the feeling.

His tongue worked up higher until it reached your clit, poking at it slightly. You breathed out a moan as your head fell down. “Drew..” your voice was shaking.

Suddenly he pulled back and you watched in the mirror as he stripped down.

He turned you around and placed you on top of the counter. “Just so you know baby, I won’t be gentle” and with that he slipped into you.

“Fuck” you hands gripped the counter and your head dipped back against the mirror as his thrusts grew faster. “Damn, your so tight baby” his voice lingered in your ear. He came down to lick your neck, sucking softly on the skin and groaning. You moaned as his thrusts got deeper, hitting a certain spot in your that had your mind going hazy.

“Fuck drew, right there!” You moaned as your hands came to hold his biceps for leverage. He was pounding into you at a relentless pace, his mouth came down to your nipples, sucking harshly.

Your body was in a state of euphoria, so high off of the feeling he was giving you. You knew you’d be sore tomorrow but this felt too good to care.

“Fuck! So- so close!” You whined.

“Go ahead baby, give it to me. Soak my cock up with your pretty juices” his words were so dirty it had you clenching around him repeatedly and making him groan.

“Fuck- your squeezing me so good, I’m gonna cum!” He groaned against your skin.

Your hands came up to his head and pushed your lips together, making out as both of you released at the same time.

He stopped thrusting, staying still inside you as his head came down to your forehead. Both breathing heavy, he let out a chuckle.

“Maybe I spilled your drink on purpose”

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #smut #dark rafe cameron #outerbanks #drewstarkey #drewstarkey smut #rafecameron #fanfic #drew and reader smut #drew #drew starkey smut #dark rafe #outerbanks rafe #smut drew #smut drew starkey #rafe x you #rafe x reader

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sweet-dreams-internal-screams · 1 year

Text

Scream EthanXfem!Reader💞

It’s been awhile…anyhoo ETHAN IS SO HOT AJDJHDDHDB

I’m literally obsessed with Scream VI ⚠️SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY⚠️

Reader uses She/They pronouns!

Warnings: oral (female receiving), drinking, swearing, Unprotected sex, submissive tendencies, semi public sex, praise, this is not formatted well lol

Dancing in a frat basement might’ve been the worst way to spend Y/Ns Saturday night but being dragged out by friends was easy. The room smelled like Beer, Blue Raspberry vape juice, pizza grease and sweat. Y/N stood in a corner sipping on the nearly empty cup in their hand circling the rim, the feeling of boredom not shaking. Suddenly a friend approached her, clearly drunk.

“Y/NNNN why aren’t you having funnnnn? What’re you drinking?” As she pulled Y/Ns cup and sniffed it with a slight hiccup. “Beer?! Babe there’s harder stuff in the kitchen LETS GO WOOHOO!” Y/Ns friend shrieked pulling them into the kitchen. Y/N followed hesitantly pleading to go home. “I’m going to make YOU a dRANK.” As she began pouring liquor into the cup. “Okay so I call it the Red Hot: vodka, fireball and a littttttle coke, not the drug.”

“I’m not drinking that.” Y/N replied as she took refilled the beer and walked away. Struggling to get the cap off Y/N bumped into someone knocking the beer onto themself. “I’m sorry I can get you some napkins!” He spat out in shock. Y/N looked up to see Ethan from Econ. He was such a friendly face, always sitting four seats down for them in class. Y/N realized that the shirt she was wearing was very thin and the beer spill wasn’t helping. Y/N could slightly see Ethan trying not to glance at their chest. Now it may have been the alcohol in their system but she let a sly idea creep into her mind. Y/N felt their lips curl up as she leaned into Ethan’s ear. “Could you help me clean this up? I think there’s some towels in the bathroom.” Ethan nodded and followed Y/N upstairs to a bathroom, fortunately it was empty.

Ethan closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly with his back grazing his back. He nervously stared at his shoes while Y/N searched for a rag to blot out the beer. “I’m pretty sure there’s one right here.” He said extending his arm out to Y/N both of their breathing slightly hitched as their fingertips touched and it wasn’t beer goggles that Y/N was seeing through as Ethan’s dark eyes pierced into theirs. “I think you’re stunning.” He whispered as he walked slightly towards them, his curls tickling Y/N’s forehead as he leaned down and pressed his lips into theirs. His kisses were soft and tender yet fast paced as he cupped her face. Y/N placed their hands into his hair.

“Mmm lock the door.” Y/N said pulling away from Ethan. He let out a breath and turned behind him to secure the door and almost instantly resumed to kissing Y/N. His hands were placed at the nape of their neck. “You can touch me, please touch me.” Y/N panted feeling a rush of need from him. Ethan’s hands began to venture, caressing her breast as they backed each other onto the large countertop. Ethan began venturing down to their neck leaving soft love bites on them. Y/N began letting out soft moans as his lips popped off their neck. He towered over her and a smile crept onto his face as he lifted Y/Ns shirt over their head. She grabbed Ethan by his belt loops and pulled him closer rocking her body into his. Ethan continued kissing their neck as he moved lower down and fell onto his knees, he began to peel off Y/Ns bottoms kissing their inner thighs while holding them apart with his hands. “I-i-is this okay?” He asked looking upward at her. Y/N nodded readily as Ethan took off their underwear.

He stood back up to kiss Y/N, slightly tugging at their bottom lip. He got on his knees and started kissing up their thighs again leaving wet marks all over them. His tongue finally found his way into Y/N as he began licking gently while locking eyes with them “if you want me to keep going you’re gonna have to look at me Y/N/N.” He hummed. Y/N opened their eyes and Ethan continued to place sweet kisses into her. He began sucking on them earning breathy moans as Y/Ns hips buckled into his mouth. He then reached up and began rubbing his fingers against her body using the other to keep ahold of her thigh. This caused Y/N to grab his curls slightly tugging as their breathing began to grow faster. Ethan began to rise from his knees and cupped their cheek. “You’re so good when you moan for me. I need you. Right now.” He muttered as he started to unzip his jeans. Y/N still feeling as the room was spinning from delight pulled him by his belt loops and began to palm him through his boxers. Ethan released throaty groans as his hand moved to caress Y/Ns chest. His finger continuing to circle her nipple.

“I can see you’re enjoying yourself.” They said placing a hand on his shoulder. Ethan began kissing them again not being able to contain himself. He removed his boxers and began to align himself with them and gently slid himself inside. He held up under Y/Ns ass and gently lifted them off the counter holding them up. He continued to move swiftly up and into Y/N until he could feel the pressure of her closing around him. He planted another lap of kisses onto their neck. Y/Ns fingernails began digging into his shoulder and back as they let out yelps of enjoyment. “I’m close.” Y/Ns managed to let out, still holding onto Ethan’s shoulder tightly with their nails. “Then cum for me, I wanna see your face, so hot for me.” He sang almost immediately picking up his speed as he adjusted himself more and more into Y/Ns body. Finally Y/N released finally letting go of Ethan’s shoulder as he set them back onto the countertop. He gave it a minute after before he found their underwear and slid it back up their thighs and doing the same to his boxers. He turned and kissed Y/N again as they slid up their pants.

“No one’s in my dorm right now.” They suggested with an almost breathless smile. Ethan sported a happy go lucky grin as he help Y/N off the countertop.

“Let’s go then.”

Lol I’m back guys! Also Ethan is a munch bc I said so🤭 this is so ass

#ethan landry #scream #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 #ethan landry smut #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #scream 2023

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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year

Text

If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 2 | Never Alone

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Inspired By: As the world burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Smut, Mentions of death, mild violence No Minors 18+ Series Masterlist WC:7607

Even though there is no sun, the light here does change. The black veil of night lifts, leaving the world awash in a pale blue half-light. The sun stays forever banished just below the horizon. Steve doesn't see it change this morning. Thick velvet drapes hung with brass rings cover every window of the cottage, keeping out the Upside-Down. His internal clock wakes him, and for the first time in a long time, it's without the heavy dread, without the emptiness. Instead, he wakes with the soft warmth of you gathered in his arms, with hope blossoming. His eyes trace the delicate slope of your peaceful features, committing them to memory. Goddam, you're pretty. He keeps still, letting the soft puffs of your breath fan over his neck, limbs still woven together as tightly as threads on a loom. Holding you like this, maybe it can be enough. These fleeting moments could be enough to get him through each day. Whatever else happens, he could have this. His lips brush your forehead as his eyes blink closed, and he lets himself drift.

Standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the chipped cast iron kitchen sink, you’ve been brushing your teeth for at least five minutes. Sounds of pleasure escape as the minty foam bubbles inside your mouth. Taking a small sip from the canteen, you swish and spit before running your tongue over your lips. Steve chuckles next to you, taking the canteen and doing the same.

“You really like brushing your teeth,” he teases.

“I will not apologize for good hygiene,” you counter, “Would you like to kiss someone with bad breath?”

“Definitely not.” He sets down his toothbrush and steps closer, tongue poking the inside of his lip as he crowds you against the counter. “It’s good to know that won’t be a problem for us going forward.”

Heat creeps up your neck until it settles into your cheeks. Something has changed with him overnight, like a decision has been made.

“You’ve got a little…” Picking up a knitted dish towel from next to the sink, you dab the toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. His hand covers yours, and your heart beats wildly in your chest. He’s got you off-kilter. You’ve never craved attention until you had a taste of his. A few looks, and you're drunk with it.

He turns your hand over and looks down at the towel with a frown. “Why is everything in this house knitted?”

Your smile widens. “I’m not sure.” Pulling your hand away, you fold the towel and place it back on the worn butcher block countertop next to the stacks of kitchen linens and trivets, all knitted in bright-colored yarn. Copper pots and shelves stacked with dishes and crockery line the ivory-painted walls of the rustic kitchen. The well-used avocado green appliances look at least twenty years old, and cozies knitted to look like potted plants cover the kettle and toaster.

“Do you know who lives here?” you ask, eyeing the table set for two with matching knit placemats and napkins, “I mean, on the other side.”

“No idea.” He leans against the counter, eyes roaming around the room. “Maybe there are some family photos around somewhere. Come on.”

His hand is on the small of your back as you follow the hand-tied rug down the hall to the living room, where folded homemade afghans lie over the backs of the two armchairs and a comfortable-looking sofa arranged around the stone fireplace. The mantel is crowded with a collection of framed photos filled with happy faces.

“I like it here.” Taking a seat on the couch, you imagine curling up with a book and enjoying the warmth of a fire.

“Yeah?” He stands at the mantle, squinting at the pictures, “I do, too,” he says absently as he plucks one of the frames from its spot. "Do you want to stay for a while?"

“Is it safe?” You ask as he sits down beside you, clutching the frame, his side pressing into yours. So far, you haven’t slept in the same house twice. Steve preferred to keep on the move, feeling you were most vulnerable at night.

“This place seems pretty solid, and it’s close to the water. I think it’s as safe as anywhere at this point.”

“Then I’d like to stay.”

It feels like you're building a bubble. A place for only the two of you where you could forget about the reaper that's getting closer to knocking at your door. Even if it’s all an illusion, you’re happy to pretend if he’s with you.

“I do know who lives here.” He hands you the frame containing a photo of an older couple posed in front of the cottage, the man's arm wrapped around the woman's shoulder. Instead of looking at the camera, their faces are turned to each other. “This is Mrs. Willard,” he says, tapping the glass, “When I was kid, she used to yell at us if she saw us hanging around downtown. She scared the hell out of me. She's always dressed in black, so all the kids call her a witch. If she caught me, I thought she would eat me like in Red Riding Hood.”

“I think that was Hansel and Grettle.” Tucking your leg underneath your body, you turn into him, setting the frame on your lap. “Red Riding Hood got eaten by the wolf.”

His brows pull together. “I thought it was all the same story."

Laughing, you shake your head in response.

"Anyway," he begins again, pretending to be irritated with your interruption, "My mom told me that her husband died, and she dresses like that because she’s in mourning."

"How long ago did he die?"

"Well, the first time she yelled at me, I was probably about five, looking at the candy in Melvald’s. She told me all my teeth were going to rot and fall out of my head. So he probably died sometime before I was born."

"And she still wears black?" you ask with wide eyes.

He nods. "She still yells at kids too."

Your lips stretch into a grin, and your shoulders rise as you release a sigh.

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"What?"

"I know that look," he says, shaking his head, "You think it's romantic."

"It is!" Your fingers wrap around his forearm.

"It's depressing," he says, laughing at you.

"No. Imagine loving someone so much that even once they're gone, you think about them all the time. A love you can never get over," you explain, squeezing his arm. "That is romantic."

Shaking his head, he glances down at where you're touching him. "I like the way you look at things," he tells you, taking your hand and slipping his fingers into the spaces between yours. “If we're going to stay, we should go into town and get enough food to last us a few days."

"Alright," you say, admiring the way you fit together. Knowing you'll follow him anywhere as long as he keeps holding your hand.

The walk takes longer than expected. Parts of the asphalt have cracked and given way into deep sinkholes that stretch across entire streets, causing you to backtrack and change routes more than once.

"I think we better take everything we can carry," he says as he ties the red bandanna covering his mouth and nose. "We might not be able to come back." The smell of rotten food is wafting through the shattered glass doors of Bradley’s Big Buy. Unprepared on your first visit, Steve threw a brick through the glass, and the stench left you both gagging.

"I'm ready." Your fingers smooth out the cloth covering your face before you follow him through the shattered door. He makes a quick pass across the store, checking down every aisle to make sure you're the only ones in here. After getting the all-clear, you walk to the opposite end of the store, moving up and down the aisles filling your backpack and duffle with anything you deem as a necessity. It's a cruel kind of race to see which will last the longest – your food or the Upside-Down.

Pushing a few cans around on the shelf, you search for the ones that haven't gotten puffy. The zipper on your duffle will never close, but you slip another can of SpaghettiOs in any way, knowing that Steve likes them. Your arms already ache with the thought of carrying all this back to the cottage.

"I'm done," you call out, lugging your bags to the front of the store, where you leave them to search for Steve. Typically much quicker, he's usually by the door tapping his foot, impatient for you to finish. Today you find him between the moldy bread and crackers, boxes of open Twinkies strewn all over the floor, and loaded bags at his feet.

"What are you doing?" You ask, catching him frowning down at the open box in his hands, its contents a putrid green.

"These things are supposed to last forever," he grumbles, tossing the box over his shoulder and reaching for another.

"You don't even like Twinkies, Steve," you point out, amused by the intensity of his search.

He throws another box on the floor and stops with his hands on his hips, looking at you. "Yeah, but you do."

He's trying. The muscle in the center of your chest swells, pushing against your rib cage, feeling too big for such a small space as its rhythm changes like a record skipping to a new song. Your feet carry you towards him without your permission, a sudden shift catching you in the pull of his gravity. Your I'll Never list has just shortened by one–you have definitely lost your head for this boy.

"It's the last box." He picks it up from the otherwise empty shelf, turning it over in his hands before his gaze shifts to you. "I've got a good feeling about this one." His fingers slide beneath the edge of the cardboard breaking the glue. Opening the box, he thumbs threw the cellophane

packets with a sour look. Finally stopping when a devastating smile takes over his handsome face.

He pulls out a single package, letting the box with the rest fall to the floor. Holding up the pristine cakes proudly, he quirks his eyebrows at you, looking just as smug as when you laid eyes on his other package yesterday in the cave.

"Remind me never to bet against you, Harrington," you say, returning his smile.

He answers with a wink, tucking them away into the breast pocket of his vest. "We'll save these for later."

Later is a decadent concept when it may never come, but delaying will make it taste even sweeter. Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and his eyes linger there. He must know that, too.

“We should go.”

“Alright.” He retrieves his bags and accompanies you to the front of the store, where he waits for you to adjust the full backpack on your shoulders. The large glass windows begin to rattle in their frames, and a vibration runs under your feet.

“Shit.” Steve drops his duffle and reaches out to grab your shoulder as sounds of jars smashing and cans falling off the shelves fill the store. The tremor intensifies, sending you careening forward, falling against him. The weight in your pack adds to the force knocking you both to the ground. When you land on top of him the air is driven from your lungs. Strong arms wrap around you, holding you to his chest. One of the big grocery shelves tips over, starting a domino effect. A crack appears on the ground, widening as it lengthens, running straight toward you. Steve rolls you both away as it shoots past, leaving him on top. Then, as quickly as it started, it ends, everything goes still and quiet.

“Are you okay?” He asks a bit too loud, considering your face is inches from his. Sucking in panicked breaths, you manage to nod. He rolls off you onto his back and scrubs his face with both hands. “That was intense. The quakes are getting worse,” he says, trying to regulate his own breathing as the adrenaline leaves him.

“I think I’ve had enough shopping for one day,” you quip.

“Me too,” he chuckles beside you. “Let’s get out of here.”

The street outside Bradley's didn’t fare any better than inside the store. The fissure that started inside zig zags across the road leaving the building across the street torn in two, collapsing into a deep chasm. A look shared between you is easy to interrupt–you were lucky.

The destruction means you can’t travel the same route you used to get there, taking you further into a section of town that was already crumbling. Smoke filling the air from the nearby fire mixes with the low-lying mist that is a permanent resident here, making it harder to see more than a few meters ahead. You're shifting your duffle from one arm to the other when Steve's arm shoots out across your body, halting you in your tracks. With his other hand, he brings his index finger to his lips, then points ahead of you.

Three full-grown Demodogs are becoming visible through the fog, their attention drawn to something squirming between them. Their horrible petal mouths are open, jaws snapping and tearing at the whining creature they're feeding from. Steve hands you his duffle and reaches over his shoulder for the spiked bat sticking out of his pack. He points at an alleyway up ahead and motions for you to follow. Your eyes widen, and you shake your head no, tilting your head back in the direction you came. No, he mouths, pointing at the alley, Trust me. But your gaze moves back to the monsters, the wet squelching of their mouths louder in your ears. He steps in front of you, one hand cupping your jaw, tilting your chin towards him. Trust me, he mouths again. This time you nod, comforted by the deep hazel of his eyes.

A small smile is your confirmation. The warmth of his hand leaves your face as he turns away from you and takes a few steps toward the alley, looking over his shoulder to make sure you're following. Ice water has replaced your blood, your heart pumps overtime sending it through your veins, making each step forward a struggle. There's a voice screaming for you to turn around and run, but you trust Steve, so you follow.

Their growls and chitters drown out the sound of your footfalls as you approach the mouth of the alley. As you round the corner, you catch a glimpse of what they're eating. Fear rushes over you in a dark, suffocating wave, the slick gray spotted body of another dog torn open, washed in its own blood. Your hands start to shake, and nausea sets in. The fog seems to permeate your mind. Every line of thought frays at the ends, leaving the one terrible inescapable truth repeating.

This is the end. This is the end. This is the end.

The ashen color that replaced the glow on your skin is one that Steve is familiar with, along with the blank look and the awkward movements of your steps. You’re going into shock. He had seen it happen enough with the others to recognize the signs. He grips your arm above your elbow and steers you down the alley, needing to get you away in case your feet stop cooperating altogether.

After crossing a few more streets, the smoke starts to thin. There is less damage to this section of town. The rasp that accompanies your breaths is making him nervous. He pries his duffle from your grip, slinging it over his shoulder so he can wrap his arm around your waist, drawing you closer.

“You're okay,” he soothes, “We’re both alright. I’ll get you out of here—just breathe through your nose. Pull down your bandana.”

Relief floods him when you reach up with one hand and yank it off your face. “Good girl. Keep breathing nice and steady. I’m right here with you,” he says, hurrying you along. The streets have become residential, and he directs you through a maze of neighborhoods and backyards, recognizing spots where he played as a child. No, not here. This isn’t home, he thinks, spotting the collection of cracked and broken garden gnomes on Mr. Larson’s front lawn. It’s a nightmare, a cheap knock-off, and as he looks toward the horizon, he realizes nothing could ever replace the real Indiana sky.

The outlines of the angry storm clouds are still evident even as the dim light fades into the velvet of night, but the flashes of red have been replaced by a smooth, rolling emerald light mixing with pinks and violets—an aurora caused by the gasses being released as the atmosphere cracks. Dustin. That little shit. He was right. It’s happening just as he had warned Steve it would. He wishes he could tell him.

He glances at you and sees your eyes fixed on the display above, your breathing faltering. Pulling you against him a little tighter, he quickens his pace.

"No, Steve. Stop," you say, planting your feet, "Just stop."

Your voice startles him. It feels like he hasn't heard it for so long. He lets you pull away and watches as you drop your duffle to the ground.

"Didn’t you see? They were eating each other?" Standing in the near darkness, you rub the ache from your arm.

"I know," he says in a calm voice.

"You know what that means.” The look on your face is one of resignment.

“Don't think about that right now, okay?” He steps closer, wanting to touch you, but runs a hand through his hair instead. “We need to get back to the cottage. We'll be safe there.”

“Safe?”

“I can protect you there.” He gestures in the direction of the woods. The little house is not far now. The disbelief in your voice is making him feel out of control. You’ve never doubted him, and he needs your faith now more than ever. “I'll close the shutters, and we'll move some furniture in front of the doors.”

“Steve,” your tone is feather-light, both hands land on his chest, one smoothing to his shoulder, “There are some things I want you to know-”

“No,” he cuts you off, pushing at your hands with no real force.

Circling his neck, you pull his head down until his forehead is pressed against yours. “You’ve been so brave and strong. I’m so grateful.”

"Stop. Don't talk like that." He straightens up and cups your jaw tilting you back to look into your eyes.

“You deserve to kn-”

“No, not yet. This isn’t the end. It can’t be.” He came to this place ready to die, but you made him take the risk and keep living. He’s not ready to give up and won’t let you either. “I need more time. I'm just figuring it out.”

“What is it?” you ask, gripping his wrist, “What are you figuring out?” The thick cover of clouds has thinned, no match for the colors dancing all around you. He can see their brightness gleaming in your eyes.

“That you're all I need.”

It's not a choice anymore when his lips press against yours. It's just something that is, like the rain or a season. It comes whether it's beckoned or not. He feels a little foolish that he was ever unsure when you kiss him back like you've been his from the start. Always so busy trying to be the hero he almost missed it when someone saved him in return.

Fingers wandering along your jaw, he swallows your sighs and your air, your want until he feels your hands wrapping around his waist, pulling him close, then he gives it right back. The world around you passes in a blur while tongues and swollen lips move languid and deep. This is where he lives now, in this kiss. All along, you've been his reward, and now that he's claimed you, he won't ever let go. He would've stayed here forever until your soft whisper between a series of broken-up kisses.

"Steve, take me home."

The cottage is quiet until you hear the first bang of the shutters being closed, followed by the slide of the bolt. After leaving the bags of food in the kitchen, you stand in the living room wiping your palms on the front of your jeans, counting each strike of the wood against the walls as Steve moves around the outside of the house, knowing that each one is bringing him closer to coming through the front door. Your fingers touch your kiss-stung lips, still feeling how his mouth pressed against yours, creating a loop of electricity, passing from him into you, making your heart glow like a bulb, lighting up every secret place inside you until you had nowhere left to hide the truth. You've completely fallen for him.

He walks inside, his eyes seeking out yours. A lock of hair falls over his brow as his lips turn upward, and he reaches for you. A hand on your waist, the other gripping your chin tilting your face to catch your bottom lip between his.

"Help me move this." He kisses you once more before motioning you to the other end of the heavy oak credenza. It scrapes and catches against the wood-planked floor, but you manage to wedge it up against the door.

The tension feels thicker than the fog rolling over the dry lake bed when you're finally closed in together. His flashlight clicks on, casting a dim beam in the direction of the bedroom. Eyes on each other, you wait to see who will be the first to crack—it's you. Taking his hand with a gentle pull, you lead him down the hall. The uneven floor creaks as you shuffle into the bedroom, letting go of his hand, you stop at the foot of the bed and wait. It's his turn now.

Your fingers fist the cuffs of your sweatshirt while he goes about his routine. Flashlight on top of the dresser. Bat leaning by the door. Knife and Barretta on the nightstand, and then his heavy backpack hits the floor, followed by his jacket and vest. He sneaks glances at you the entire time, checking for signs that you’ve changed your mind, but you’ve never been more sure.

“You left the flashlight on,” you remind him when he moves into your space. He has been like that since you met, always standing a little too close. This whole wide world all to yourselves, and he was never more than a few inches away.

“I want to see you,” he admits. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," comes out breathy as his thumb traces across your cheek. Remembering the way the water dripped down his chest in the cave has you hoping the batteries will last.

His head dips to capture your lips in a slow wet slide while his hands cradle your jaw, angling your head to take the kiss deeper. Dreamy minutes tick by, his attention never leaving your mouth. His controlled pace makes you feel needy and wanton. When you feel the sharp edge of his teeth against your lip, you know you aren't alone. Hands slide down your nape, across your shoulders, skimming down your sides. Fingers coming to rest in the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Can I take this off?"

You're so lightheaded it takes seconds to respond. Nodding your head and raising your arms toward the beamed ceiling. His hands grip the layers of material, riding you of them all at once instead of one at a time. The gold in his eyes turns molten as they pass over every curve and line he's uncovered. His knuckles turn white, fisting your shirt, and how he looks at you makes your knees a bit weak. Pulling your clothes from his hands, you let them fall to the floor.

"You're so goddamn pretty," he says, barely louder than a whisper.

"I know," you tease, earning you an easy smile and his hands on your waist, drawing you close. His head drops to your neck, chuckling against your skin, making your whole body break out in shivers.

"You're funny." His lips move on your skin before placing a wet kiss on a spot that has your toes curling inside your boots. "There were a couple of times I had to try really hard not to laugh.”

“I-I knew…you were holding out on me, Harrington,” you stammer as he moves to the spot below it.

“I wanted you to keep trying,” he says, adding gentle suction.

Whatever you were going to say comes out in a whine, but it was probably something like, please don't stop. He continues down to your collarbone, hands stroking up your back, releasing the catch on your bra. Letting the strap fall down your shoulders, you pull it out from between you as his mouth reaches the swell of your breast. Warm hands cup you as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

“Steve,” you beg when he switches to the other side, not knowing if you want him to stop or give you more. Tugging him up by the collar, you crash your lips into his, but he slows you down with the backs of his fingers along your cheeks and a kiss so gentle it makes you want to cry. He walks you backward until your butt hits the mattress, and he leans forward, laying you down carefully until you're leaning on your elbows. With another soft press of his mouth, Steve straightens and sighs, looking down at you spread out for him.

“I would never have stopped,” you say when he lifts your foot and presses it against his thigh to loosen your laces. He swallows hard, nodding in understanding before he goes back to removing your boots and socks. This feels so different. He's making it different, taking care of every part of you like he wants it all.

Your fingers find their way into the gaps of the knitted afghan you're lying on while you watch him take off his boots and shirt. A dark patch of hair starts at the center of his chest and fans out. Even in this dark place, his skin looks golden. This is really happening. A flutter of nerves mixes with tingles of arousal.

His knee hits the edge of the bed, and you inch back toward the center as he crawls over you, settling into the cradle of your thighs. Skin finally meeting skin, you each release identical sighs.

"I should have kissed you when we were in the cave," he says, lips ghosting a path along your cheek.

"It's okay." Your eyes are heavy-lidded as you run your hands over the dips in his spine, enjoying the feel of him. "You're kissing me now."

"I should have kissed you every day." He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth before pulling back and smoothing the hair at your temples. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time."

"Steve," you cradle his jaw, "You were worth the wait." Your whole life, you've been waiting for him, and the way he's kissing you now, you'd have waited even longer. Every kiss is a poem—pretty words printed on lips and tongues. Every touch is a story all its own.

He toys with the button on your jeans. Your zipper being lowered sounds like a needle dragging across a record. Moving onto his knees, he drags the denim down your legs, kissing each hip and your soaked panty-covered center before removing those too.

Kneeling to join him, your mouth finds the sharp line of his stubbled jaw. He groans, head tipping back, giving you better access to place soft, gentle bites along the column of his throat while your hands open his belt and pants. When you look down, the broad head of his cock is already pushing through the band of his boxers. Grabbing both layers, you ease them off his hips. He helps by pushing them the rest of the way down his legs, sending them to the floor with a kick.

Bared to each other in the yellow glow of the flashlight, you can feel the pages flipping by. Time is a luxury, but you won’t rush to the end. Laying down beside each other, you explore everything you've uncovered. In this moment, he’s yours. It feels decadent to touch him—a layer of softness over lean muscle. You’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.

His hands slide over you, warming your skin, molding to each curve. Every inch of you is admired. When his fingers move between your legs, your vision gets hazy, stars bursting at the edges. He spreads slickness through your folds while his lips stay pressed against yours. The warm blanket of pleasure becomes hotter, heavier—you grip his forearm with a shaking hand.

“Don’t be scared,” he says against your lips, “Tonight is for us.”

“I’m not scared,” you reply, pulling him closer, you can’t think of any place safer than in his arms.

“Why are you trembling?” He asks, brows pulling together.

“Because I’ve never wanted anything this much.”

Your legs fall open as he positions himself between them, lining up with your entrance. No doubts that you both are ready. He's slow and gentle with his first push inside you. Your body stretches and takes, then stretches and takes some more. He's about halfway when you can't help but clench around him, and he thrusts forward with a moan. Your back arches involuntarily, feeling fuller than you've ever been before.

"Sorry." He nudges you with his nose.

"Don't apologize." You kiss wherever you can reach. "Do it again."

He chuckles, and his hips flex enough to have your breath catching, still getting used to his size.

"You feel so good." His eyes briefly close as your walls flutter around him, and he begins to move in slow, shallow strokes. "Like you're made for me, honey."

You're starting to think maybe you were. Maybe you were made for each other. He drops to his forearms, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his mouth back to yours. His hand slides over your hip and down your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist so can bury himself deeper. He rocks into you with a steady pace, gazes locked, trading sighs, impossible to be any closer. The ache in your heart swells, spreading through you. A tear spills over your lash line, it's too much for you to contain.

"I love you," you whisper as he wipes it with his thumb. "I thought you should know."

His movements still. He stares down at you and swallows hard, trying to loosen the tightness in his throat. "Tell me again."

"I love you."

Taking your hand, he holds it against the center of his chest. His heart beats against your palm. He's been telling you this whole time. He smiles, and it feels brighter than the sun. Your hand stays pressed against the warm skin over his heart as his head dips, sealing his soft lips to yours.

His kiss is filled with words left unsaid and unrestrained desire. Your hips roll involuntarily, desperate for friction as you whimper into his mouth. He breaks away with a scrape of teeth and hungry eyes.

"I need you," he mumbles, lifting your hips to change the angle. His hand grips the back of your thigh, pushing it toward your chest, using it as leverage as he drives into you with smooth deep rolling thrusts. Jolts of white-hot pleasure bloom from your core and radiate to every cell when he finds that switch inside you. The one that has you crying out. The one that didn’t exist before him. You’re not surprised. He’s good at everything he does.

“That’s it, honey. I want to hear all those pretty noises.” His fingers tighten, pressing into the plush of your thigh as his hips snap forward. The smacks of skin on skin become the baseline for your harmony of moans and pleas. Your heels dig into his backside as your hips rise to meet his thrusts. The chill in the room does nothing to calm the heat between you or the sheen of sweat covering your bodies.

"Steve...I–"

Threads of love and pleasure weave together until they're a single silken cord pulling taunt inside you. He releases your thigh, working his hand between you, his thumb circling your slick clit.

"Please, baby. I want to feel you cum."

The rasp in his voice. The desperate look on his face. You're his, and there's nothing you'd deny him. The cord snaps with you crying out his name, pulsing around him, fingers digging into the muscles that cap his shoulders. Euphoria crests in big surges that go on and on as he thrusts lose their tempo. He groans as warmth starts to fill you, painting your walls white with his release.

He eases onto you, and you take his weight cradling him to your chest.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," you whisper, maybe too low for him to hear, your hands smooth over his back while your legs wrap tightly around him. He kisses along your temple before taking your face in his hands.

"I don't regret a single decision that led me to you."

For an instant, you live a lifetime that could have been in each other's eyes. Then his head lowers, and your eyes close. Tender kisses turn hot, and he’s hard inside you. Distant howls echo through the dead trees while strange winds rattle the shutter of the cottage, but both go unnoticed as you claim the night as yours. Each time he has you, the need for each other only grows. After your bodies have given each other everything there is to give, sleep steals you away a few hours before the light changes.

He's still holding you when the vibrations send the bedside lamp crashing to the floor. Wisps of smoke curl in the air when you wake up in the hazy room with a burning throat and begin coughing. Steve grabs your arm and pulls you from the bed. He braces one arm against the door frame and holds you against his chest with the other. The tremors increase. The sounds of falling things and breaking dishes mix with the rumbling of the earth. A crack forms at the bottom of the far wall and runs diagonally toward the ceiling. A scream rips from your dry throat when the window explodes into a shower of glass, and smoke pours into the room.

“We’ve gotta get out now,” Steve yells when the quake abruptly stops. “Get dressed and grab what you can.”

Grabbing your crumpled jeans from the floor, you slide them over your hips and shove your feet into your boots. Your sweatshirt sticks out from under the bed, and when you kneel to grab it, the black metal handle of the Baretta catches your eye. Steve has finished dressing and is grabbing his pack and bat when you finish pulling the sweatshirt over your head.

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand for you to take. He leads you into the living room, where half the ceiling has collapsed, spoiling any chance of you moving the heavy credenza that blocks the front door.

“The window,” you cry, backtracking into the bedroom with Steve right behind you. He lifts you through the broken frame but is left with no choice other than to grip the window frame to climb out. Jagged glass slicing his hand in the process.

“Your hand.” Your fingers circle his wrist, trying to assess the damage.

“It’s alright,” he says, pulling a bandana from his pocket and squeezing it into his fist,“We have to go.” His injured hand goes around your shoulder, turning you away from the cottage. Blood flows through the gaps of his fingers, dripping onto your sweatshirt as he keeps you tucked into his side.

The dense, acrid smoke makes finding your way through the trees hard. Smoldering twigs and vines rain down all around you, igniting piles of dry leaves on the forest floor. Your mouth opens with a gasp when your eyes turn skyward to see the treetops blazing and the billows of rolling red and orange flames that have replaced the dark clouds, completely consuming the atmosphere. The smoke thins as you make it out of the woods and into the open center of the dry lake.

Hot tears pour from your eyes, leaving streaks of soot down your face, and you can't stop coughing, trying to clear your distressed lungs. The quarter-full canteen from Steve’s pack is pressed into your hands.

“Drink it,” he rasps, coughing and spitting the black from his lungs.

Twisting the top, you gulp it, careful to drink only half. He shakes his head when you hold it out to him, but you take his hand and wrap it around the bottle, not giving him a choice. With an annoyed look, he finishes the water.

“What do we do?” you ask, panicked, watching his head turn back and forth, trying to decide the best course of action. The smoke and fog make it hard to see more than fifty feet in any direction. He looks down at your alarmed face, the sorrow in his eyes giving you his answer.

No. It can't be over. Pressing the heels of your hands to your forehead, you wrack your brain for any answer.

"The cave," you grasp his arms, pleading.

"Is it deep enough?" He asks, the doubt written on his face.

"I-I don't know." You shake your head with fresh tears filling your eyes.

His face hardens in determination. "Let's go."

Hands locked together, you race through the tangle of vines covering the limestone bed toward the other side of the lake, where the cave is tucked into the side of a hill just beyond the edge of the woods. Glancing back over your shoulder, you can see a wall of flames has crashed like a wave engulfing the houses and the little cottage cutting you off from the way back to town. The smoke thickens as the wind picks up, shortening your field of vision and slowing you down.

"Almost there," Steve reassures as you do your best to keep up with his long strides.

You doubt your ears when you first hear it, thinking it's just a tree snapping and the roar of the fire. It's the high pitch chittering that has terror creeping up your spine. Its outline becomes visible through the smoke. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Petal mouth in full bloom. Your body freezes in place. Your grip on Steve’s hand tightens like a vice.

“Stay behind me,” he tells you, shaking his hand from your clasp as the monster comes into full view. It limps forward, smoke rising from charred skin covering half its body, its damaged clawed limb hanging loosely at its side—sticky strings of saliva drip from its rows of teeth.

Steve waves a hand behind him, motioning for you to stay back while he steps forward with caution. He plants his feet, twirling the bat before catching it with his other hand, holding it up high over his shoulder. His fingers open and close around the handle to adjust his grip. A low growl vibrates the flaps of its open mouth as the thing keeps moving forward.

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve says in a low, calm voice, “You’re already hurt. Just let us walk on by.”

You’re astonished when the monster stops, like maybe it understood him, and for a heartbeat, you think it may have listened.

It charges forward with a deafening roar, claw swiping at Steve's head. Missing when Steve drops into a low batter’s crouch, swinging his bat and connecting with the burned half of its abdomen. It shrieks when the nails tear through its flesh. Black blood pouring from the wound. Steve gives it no time to recover. Hitting it again and again, driving the thing back. It howls, disappearing into the smoke.

Your pulse is drumming in your ears as everything goes quiet. Steve stands there, elbow up, ready to swing. Trees pop and crackle as the fire spreads through the woods. Your eyes strain, trying to see into the smoke, but there's nothing. Adrenaline starts to dissipate, and Steve's arm comes down slowly. He glances over his shoulder, giving you a smug smile, and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

It pounces from the fog, screeching. Backhanding Steve, sending him flying. He hits the ground hard, rolling, trying to get to his feet, but the monster is already too close, on all fours, ready to strike.

"No!" you scream, drawing its attention. Reaching back, your hand closes over the grip of the Barretta tucked into your jeans. The thing looks at you, and you fire. The bullet punches through the burnt skin of its shoulder. With an ear-splitting scream, it gallops toward you. Your finger squeezes the trigger in rapid succession. Unloading the clip. Missing more than you hit. Its claw rips through your forearm, knocking the gun from your hand. Clutching your arm, you fall backward onto your butt, trying to inch away.

It knows it has you now. Dropping to all fours, it slowly crawls over you, drooling onto your clothes. It blows its wet breath into your face as it chitters. Your stomach rolls at the stench, and your eyes flutter close as it rears back to strike.

Wetness splatters your face. The axe head is logged halfway into the back of the monster's thick neck. With a gurgle, the thing falls to its side. With your good arm and feet, you scurry backward away from it. Blood runs down the side of Steve's face from where the skin is split open on his forehead. Breathing hard, he stomps his boot onto the shoulder of the creature. There's a wet sucking sound as he pulls the axe from its neck. He grunts, bringing it down over and over until the monster's head is separated from its body.

The axe clangs when it hits the ground. Steve wipes the blood from his eyes with the back of his hands. It’s too much, you want to be brave for him, but you can’t hold back the tears.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he says in a soft voice helping you to your feet, “Don’t cry.” He wraps his blood-soaked bandana around your arm and pulls you into his chest. “You’re alright.”

Your hands wrap around his waist, dipping under his shirt so you can feel his smooth skin under your fingers while he rubs reassuring circles up and down your back as your teardrops darken the leather of his jacket.

"Aren't you glad you taught me to shoot?" you ask, sniffing into his shoulder, smiling when you feel his chest vibrating with laughter.

"I guess it came in handy after all," he says with his lips kissing along your temple.

"You saved me, Steve."

"I didn't–"

"You did."

"I didn't, but I wish I had."

"Look at me." He cradles your jaw to tip your head back, and the small motion leaves you dizzy. As you stand in each other's embrace, the haze and smoke have thickened.

“You’re beautiful.” His thumb rubs along your cheek, and you laugh, knowing you're covered with soot and gore. “You are, and you deserve to know.”

“Thank you,” you say, knowing why he’s telling you. While you fought off the monster, the blaze swept through the woods, leaving walls of fire surrounding the lake. The vines covering the bed have started to catch. Soon the flames on the ground will flare higher, joining the fiery sky. The planet will heat and explode. The two of you will become bright lights in the cosmos. Constellations. Star dust. Souls forever wandering the galaxies.

"I love you," he tells you with tears in his eyes, "I do. I love you."

"I love you too." Your throat burns with the effort to speak.

"Close your eyes."

Your eyes close as his head dips and his soft lips press against yours. His hand slides to the back of your neck and you cling to him. Trading breaths, tongues dancing.

This kiss is a thousand words.

This kiss is goodbye.

The heat is at your back and through your closed eyes the light gets brighter. His grip on you tightens before the kiss breaks and you hear him calling out your name. When you look for him, it's too bright to see, like you're staring into the sun. His hands slip as he's pulled away from you, sliding over your shoulders and arms until you're connected by just your fingertips.

"No. El." His voice comes from far away. Echoing down a tunnel. "Not without her."

"Steve," you scream as his fingers slip away. "Steve!" But you're alone with the howl of the wind and the taste of smoke in your mouth. Your hands come up to shield your face as the light gets brighter, and then there's nothing.

Part 3 Here

AN: So what do you think is in store for these two? Are they going to make it? Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment & reblog Part 1. Writing this fic has been challenging, so the comments meant a lot. But even if you're shy and don't like to comment but still took the time to read I'm still very grateful. My asks are always open, (Anon or Not) Do me a soild and reblog if you liked it. 💋 -Jelly

Another big thanks to @myeuphoricmindset for letting me adapt her concept.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #if tomorrow never comes

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vaahomedecor · 6 months

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Indulge in the soothing softness of our blue face towels napkins. Designed for gentle care, these napkins keeping your skin refreshed and pampered...

#soft face towels napkins #blue soft face towels #soft face towels #face towels napkins #napkins

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katyawriteswhump · 4 months

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the power of love part 2 (new steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part one here Also on AO3 (where it's tragically in need of some love *sobs*) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Chapter Two

Steve POV

Steve blinks his eyes open. Fear lurches then fades. Leaning over him, kinda blurry, are… Robin? Munson!?! He’s at home. Lying on the couch in his parents’ living room, to be precise.

“Steve? You back with us?” Robin appears wild-eyed, spooked out. She’s holding a bloodied cloth over his bat bites, which stab like new again.

Steve presses the heel of his hand to his brow, disguising his pained whimper with a shaky, “Yeeeeah.”

“Phew! Not delirious? Only a bit woozy, huh?”

“You seriously still shitting yourself about rabies?”

“To be honest, no. That’s slithered so far down my list of things to lose my mind over, I’d forgotten. Trust me, he’s as likely to have it as you now.”

Eddie, who hovers at her shoulder, pokes out his tongue, kinda jokey. The rest of Eddie’s face is still slightly blood-smeared. Haunted. His hair is a mad mess, his bandana repurposed as a bandage about his elbow. Steve glances down his own aching body, which is damp, vaguely shivery. Near naked, in fact, with a towel tucked around his waist.

Oh yeah. He went for a swim, and then…

“Shit! Are you seriously mopping my blood with Mom’s linen napkins?” Steve tries to push himself up, and flops back down, humiliatingly fast. On top of that, his head throbs—when does it not, these days? He makes a more concerted effort to sit, forcing himself through a wave of nausea and dizziness, then notices: “Shit, shit, SHIT! I’ve bled on the couch—this cost a thousand bucks!”

“I knew there was a reason Wayne avoided white faux leather,” says Eddie, as he and Robin share a look. “Oh, and a Munson never splashes less than fifteen-hundred bucks on soft furnishings.”

“You’re hilarious,” mutters Steve.

“Your Pops can chew my head off,” says Eddie. “Some of that blood is yours truly’s. I mean, I got got bad. Really bad. And theeeeen… I got better.” He narrows his eyes to inquisitorial slits, which bewilder Steve, given how rough he feels.

Robin lifts the ruined napkin. “You’re bleeding like before Wheeler first bandaged you up. It makes no sense.”

“Nothing’s made sense for about two and a half years,” Steve points out. Actually, scratch that. Little of his life has made much sense. “There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen, with proper bandages. Where did you think I got the Hibistat towelettes from? Didn’t you morons think to look?”

Robin hurries off. Eddie takes over holding the now thoroughly disgusting napkin over Steve’s bites. “Woah, he’s not lying,” she calls. “His parents keep an actual first aid kit with actual useful crap in it.”

“Yeah, in case you forgot in the last thirty seconds,” says Steve, “the Harrington family bleed.”

“It doesn’t even come out green,” Eddie says. “Totally destroys your ‘rich folk are aliens’ theory, Buckley.”

“Haha,” snarks Steve.

“This might take a minute,” calls Robin. “I had no idea there were so many sorts of dressings. We don’t want a triangle one, huh?”

Left alone, Eddie doesn’t seem able to look Steve in the eye. He’s giving off such awkward vibes that Steve takes pity, nudges Eddie’s hand away, holds the napkin himself.

“I guess this is where I thank you for saving my life,” says Eddie.

“From what I could gather from Dustin, you’d only gone and done the same for us. Not a hero? Total bull.”

“Those weren’t normal circumstances.”

Eddie’s so squirmy, Steve flinches away too. He’s felt drawn to Eddie for some time. He likes the guy way more than he’d expected, finds he likes looking at him too, crazy rocker tresses and all, but… Jesus Christ! Talk about shitty timing.

It’s not the first time Steve’s been blindsided by a crush on a guy. Plus, he knows Eddie is queer; he’s one of the few other friends that Robin’s lately ‘come out’ to. However, Steve’s simply not gotten the energy to figure out if the weird fizzle of chemistry he feels is all in his head. What he really wants is to stagger upstairs to bed and sleep for a week. No time for that, though. He groans, threads the fingers of his free hand through his damp hair.

“We need to take advantage of this earthquake chaos. Get you outta town right now before somebody comes looking.”

“Yeah. I figured as much.” Eddie sighs hard. “No more facing down ferocious monsters. I return to being Eddie the Banished.”

“Not much choice, man. Look, we can bring bedding, whatever supplies we need from here. Take one of Dad’s cars and find a place to lay low till we know what’s happening and what the next plan of attack is.”

“You were worried about the couch and now you’re suggesting we jack your Pop’s wheels?”

“I don’t give a crap about the furniture—it was a dumb knee jerk reaction. I mean, things change. People change. Last time I looked, we weren’t exactly bestest buds.”

Now we’re off saving each other’s lives.

A loud crash from the kitchen slices between them. “Sorry!” yells Robin. “Kinda dropped… everything.”

“Need some help there, Rob?” Steve tries to push himself to his feet. His head rush is instant and epic; his vision blacks out, nearly taking his entire consciousness with it.

“Easy, easy!” Eddie’s arms are around him, clumsily guiding him back down. Steve whimpers before he can stop himself; his stomach churns and he feels painfully sick. Eddie wedges a cushion beneath Steve’s head, presses the cloth back to Steve’s bleeding side. “Robin’s right. You need those injuries looked at. I go alone.”

“No.” Steve snatches a shaky breath. “Way I see it, we’re both deep in the shit."

“I’m the one with the murder rap snapping at my butt, Harrington.”

“And I’m the one who’s been harbouring a known fugitive, stealing Winnebagos, and Christ knows what else. Crap, I bet they’ll blame me for Nance’s sawn-off shotgun. While the rest of those underage brats get off light, I’ll be dragged to jail as sure as you.”

“Your daddy can afford a lawyer, man.” At least Eddie’s looking at Steve now. His words still feel like a punch in Steve’s already bleeding gut—with those knuckle dusters that’d gotten lost somewhere on the ride.

Steve retaliates with as daggers a glare as he can conjure: “You wanna thank me for saving your life, Munson? Then stop trying to ditch me.”

Part 3

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

...

tags: @estrellami-1 (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, I would probably cry... in a good way, honest! Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :)

#steddie #steve harrington whump #platonic stobin #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington hc #stranger things fanfic #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #stobin #steve harrington fanfic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction

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moonlightsolo · 2 years

Note

Eddie Munson x reader

We know Eddie’s a metal head right? but what if his gf is more of a pop kinda gal and one night they’re hanging out listening to some music and I wanna dance with somebody by Whitney starts playing, and they just dance to it???

don't ya wanna dance with me baby?

wc: 2.7k

pairing: eddie munson x female reader

warnings: fluff, cute boyfriend girlfriend activities, honestly this is the cutest thing ever, slight mild language & heavy smooching

a/n: i added an extra song at the end for your enjoyment :)

the pink gum you’ve blown into a giant bubble pops, splattering all over your face. all because the driver of the van you’re in completely fails to dodge a giant pothole in the road. the sticky wax like texture gets stuck to the outside of your mouth, all the way up to your nose. all you can do is hope that it doesn’t get stuck on your clothes.

a soft frustrated sigh tumbles from your lips as you attempt to peel it off of your skin. a disgusted expression settles on your face when it becomes stuck to your nails. well, at least the color matches your polish.

a cackle sounds from your boyfriend who’s the one driving, blaring rock music that makes your chest constrict with anxiety. you don’t know how he listens to this stuff- some of the songs he likes, you manage to deal with, but this one is just not your cup of tea. (it’s paranoid by black sabbath)

“you silly goose.” he reaches over the center console, his hand squishing your face as he attempts to pull it off of your skin. he directs his attention to you, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“ugh, eddie! pay attention to the road!” you scold, making him swerve back into the correct lane. eddie’s whole entire hand is practically engulfing the lower half of your face, letting you use his palm as a napkin. it doesn’t really help.

“that’s like so fucking sticky.” he whips his hand in attempt to get rid of the substance that has transferred to him, but alas no luck.

his hand continues to open and close, the pink gum stretching between his fingers and getting stuck to his rings. he remains calm as he drives with one hand tapping the steering wheel to the beat, and mumbling to the song that’s playing.

he pulls onto your road with a screech, pulling his van right outside your house. partly in the grass and partly in the cul-de-sac.

“let’s go. i need to wash my damn hand and your pretty lil face.” he laughs as he uses his clean hand to pull out his keys and open the door.

he hops out, but even with his sticky hand he scurries to your side to open the door for you. “after you, m’lady.”

you slide out of his van, pecking his check which makes him grimace from your gummy lips. you lead the both of you up to the garage, punching in a code so the door rises. you duck your body underneath once there’s enough room- thank god it’s empty, and your parents aren’t home.

they love eddie, absolutely adore him! but you just don’t feel like dealing with their numerous questions and long conversations. you barge inside through the side door with eddie in tow as you walk into the kitchen.

“oooh, is my girl going to get me all cleaned up?” a smirk rises on his plush lips.

you giggle, “why of course,” you turn the tap water on, washing your own hands and wetting down the corner of a hand towel to wipe your face off. eddie leans against the lower cupboards, his hip against the counter as he blatantly stares at you.

eddie extends his contaminated hand towards you. he waits patiently as he watches your movements with adoration.

you turn towards him with the damp towel, your hand gripping his wrist as you scrub his hand clean. he can’t help but swoop down and press a gentle kiss against your forehead. “love you, sweetheart.”

“love you.” you hum with a flush settling on the apples of your cheeks. before you could get lost in his brown eyes, you tug him towards the stairs, “come on, let’s go up to my room.”

his eyebrows raise in surprise, “she is bringing me to her room everyone!” he exclaims to your empty house, “i’m not religious, but halle-fuckin-lujah!” he continues to yell as you drag the eccentric boy upstairs with you laughing.

eddie taps on your butt with his hands like he’s playing the drums as you climb the steps in front of him. you can’t help but shake your head and swat at him.

once you make it to the second floor, you barge through your bedroom door. your walls were a light pastel pink with countless posters, your bed frame was wrought iron with a floral quilt adorning the top. you had a stereo sitting on your dresser in front of your bed, a desk/vanity near your window with a mirror. in the corner near your bed you had a record player sitting on a stand with vinyls stacked underneath in the cubby beneath- kudos to eddie for helping you grow your collection.

eddie follows close behind, not caring to look around at your room because he’s been in here countless times. he sits down on your bed, laying back abruptly. his hair flies up, framing his head and hitting you in the face.

“hey!” you blow raspberries with your tongue dramatically, as if he got his hair in your mouth. you can’t help but look down at his waistband, seeing his shirt riding up slightly. you admire the tuft of hair there that leads under his waistband. a sudden urge to lean forward and press kisses into the skin there rises in your brain, but you don’t allow your impulsive thoughts to win.

“excuse you, my eyes are up here, honey!” he snickers with a giant grin and sparkling eyes. you quickly avert your eyes, blushing once again. he always leaves you a mess.

“i was just spacing out.” you try to recover, but he rolls his eyes, “bullshit.”

in return, you playfully swat his chest. he catches your wrist, pulling you forward so you were resting half on top of him and half on your bed.

“spacing out, huh? you were staring pretty hard at my dick.” you just shake your head and smoosh your face into his chest from embarrassment. strong cologne, slight twang of cigarettes and a hint of weed overtakes your senses.

his grips your high ponytail gently to twirl your hair between his fingers, “you know… whenever you’re ready, i’ll do whatever you ask me to. i’d literally get on my knees for you. not how it usually is the other way around.”

eddie’s words makes a knot grow in your belly, “god, eddie… bad influence.” your voice is muffled from your face being shoved in his shirt. he laughs from your shyness around the subject, “me? bad influence? never.” you lift your head up, resting your chin on his chest before lifting yourself up to catch his lips. his ring adorned hand cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue against yours.

he always tastes like mint with a hint of the herb-like drug he’s fond of. it’s the perfect mix. “oh, you’re gonna be the death of me, you little minx.” he grumbles into your lips, smiling against you.

“could say the same about you.” you whisper slyly before pulling away from him completely and hopping off the bed. he groans in frustration, his head falling back onto your bed as he watches your every move.

you grab a personalized cassette from the cubby hole near your vinyls and pop it into your stereo on your dresser. the synth from ‘i wanna dance with somebody’ starts to play loudly through the speakers.

“wooo!” you shout in sync with whitney houston, pumping your fist in the air. you begin to dance to the beat, biting your lip as you move your body.

ed sits up on his elbows, a smile slowly growing on his face as he watches you dance.

“clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade,” you snap your fingers at the same time with the beat, “still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away.” you sing, scrunching your nose up.

you reach your hands out for him to join you, but he shakes his head no almost instantly. you give up for the moment, continuing to dance to the music.

“and when the night falls! the loneliness calls!” you spin around in a circle, stomping your feet happily as the chorus begins.

“oh, i wanna dance with somebody! i wanna feel the heat with somebody! yeah, i wanna dance with somebody- with somebody who looooves me!!” you point directly at him, swinging your hips as you march up to him.

eddie’s legs are hanging off the bed, so your hands are at the perfect height to rest on his knees. you squat to the floor seductively, disappearing from his sight. before slithering yourself up his body and to his face, “i’ve been in love and lost my senses. spinning through the town.” you serenade him with a soft voice, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

he can’t help but feel himself grow hot from the lyrics being sung to him by you so closely. even if you’re off key, it’s the most beautiful sound ever. he gets so close to pulling you onto this bed and pinning you underneath him. instead you swiftly pull away to stand up tall, gripping your chest during the next verse.

“i need a man who’ll take a chance on a love that burns hot enough to last.” your hand extends to him again, “so when the night falls, my lonely heart calls…” you pant heavily with a beautiful smile that’s urging him to stand up with you and dance to this ridiculous song.

with a loud dramatic sigh, he slams his hand down into yours reluctantly. he notices how your face lights up from his decision. you pull the boy to his feet, bringing him to the center of your room. you move your arms together as you dance. well, you’re the only one who’s dancing. he’s just letting you move his arms. “come on! dance!” you laugh breathlessly.

eddie starts to tap his sneakers side to side to the beat, a smile on his face as he watches his feet. your hands let go of his to cup his face to get him to look at you, “i wanna dance with somebody- with somebody who loves me.” you gently poke his chest as you sing the lyrics.

he can’t help but laugh like a little school girl, his hands grip your waist tightly to pull you against his chest.

a surge of confidence rushes through his body. he moves your bodies in sync with one hand on your lower back and the other on the dip of your waist. “oh okay, munson.” you giggle in shock, craning your neck up to peck his jaw.

he can’t help but throw his head back and laugh. if anyone of his friends caught him dancing to this song, he’d actually die. he loves you so much, he can’t handle it. he would do anything for you- even dancing to this ridiculously catchy pop song.

“oh i wanna dance with somebody!” you sing out loud and proud as eddie moves his body against yours. almost expertly to the beat.

“don’t cha wanna dance… with me, baby? don’t wanna dance with me, boy? hey! don’t ya wanna dance with somebody you loooooves me!” you belt out, throwing your head back as the outro to the song starts. eddie leans with you as you lean back. he allows your head to drop lower to the floor from him securely holding you.

“don’t cha wanna dance? say you wanna dance- don’t ya wanna dance? don’t cha wanna dance? say you wanna dance- don’t ya wanna dance?”

you squeal from the feeling like you’re going to slip out of his arms, but you know he’s got you. he can’t help but press a kiss against the center of your extended neck before swooping you up.

you truly can’t believe he agreed to dance with you like this. the feeling of his body pressed against yours as he sways makes you feel like you’re on cloud nine. you can’t help but wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest.

as the music fades to silence, you can hear eddie’s heart thumping in your ear. one of his hands rests on your lower back as the other wraps his arm around his neck. he presses continuous soft kisses against your forehead which makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“i seriously love you so much, sweetheart.” he sighs against your soft skin, “i don’t know what the hell i’d do without you.”

the cassette clicks and twirls as the next song begins to play. ‘i just died in your arms’ by broadcast.

you look at eddie who just realized what song is playing. a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“oh! i just died in your arms tonight!” he brings his fist into the air and slowly pulls it closer to his chest. his slender hips roll back the forth to the drums beat as he sings the lyrics word for word.

you can’t help but stare up at him in shock, completely speechless from his little solo dancing outburst.

“who would’ve thought that a boy like me could come to this?” he bites his bottom lip and winks at you.

“i just died in your arms tonight! it must have been something you said.” his gravelly voice sings out to you, his hands run down your sides to your butt to squeeze it. the sudden feeling of his hands on your backside makes you laugh, your hands now resting on his chest.

“it must’ve been some kind of kiss.” he swoops down to peck the corner of your grinning mouth.

he grabs your hand, smoothly twirling your body towards the bed. he taps his hands on his jean cladded thighs as he dances toward you.

you can’t help but sit down on the plush mattress, staring up at him as he gets closer. his index finger hooks under your chin to angle your face up. he leans down, nose pressing against yours and breath mixing together.

eddie’s lips brush against yours as he charmingly whispers the next lyrics against you, “it was a long hot night… she made it easy, she made it feel right.”

the sound of his lowered voice makes something turn on inside of your body. before you could act on it, he completely pulls away to the middle of the room. “but now it’s over, the moment has gone. i followed my hands, not my head!” he taps his temple, “i knew i was wrong!”

eddie’s fingers suddenly conjure an invisible guitar in front of him as he riffs the instrumental solo in the air. his digits move expertly as if he knows every see-through chord, his teeth bringing his bottom lip between them.

he throws his head back and forth like a true rocker, his crazy hair flying everywhere. your eyes widen at the sight, breath stopping.

you’ve seen him play his guitar before, but this somehow is even more attractive. once it ends he continues the lyrics, tapping the beat on his pants as he walks up to you.

“i just died in your arms tonight. it must’ve been some kinda kiss. i should’ve walked away….!” he theatrically psychs himself out by jumping away from you.

he can’t help but stare at your bewildered face for a moment. but he sees your seemingly permanent smile so he knows you’re enjoying this. “i should’ve walked away…” he trails off, chest heaving as he finally caves in and saunters up to you.

eddie pushes your body back and directly lays on top of your body, letting all his weight squish you into the mattress. you squeal as all you can see is his hair that’s covering your face, “ed!” you belly laugh from the pressure on your chest. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, locking him in place as he leans up on his elbows. his face directly in front of yours and his hair almost makes a little curtain around your faces.

he continues to pant from the dancing he just did for you, “i hope that wooed you enough- because if i were you,” he takes a deep breath and laughs, “i’d be jumping my bones right now.”

you wiggle one of your arms out from underneath him to cup his cheek sweetly, “you’re literally the goofiest person ever.” you shake your head. he leans into your palm, nuzzling against you with his eyes shut.

“i love you, eddie munson.” you mutter out, which makes his eyes flutter open. oh, his big brown eyes are so beautiful.

“and i love you, baby.” he mumbles before crashing his lips against yours.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson request #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson gif #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things gif #stranger things request #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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purplifield · 11 months

Text

🪻| Birthday sex

Can you guess who’s birthday it is?☺️🥳

Requests are open can’t promise I will write them asap😞

CW: 18+; oral f receiving; pet names; soft sex (bcs we NEED more fics with softer sex okay?); short, fem reader; pt 2 maybe because I’m ✨tired✨

You were eating dinner. You clearly heard J shout something at his viewers. It was past 11 pm, and because you were taking care of last minute problems about tomorrow’s party, you were exhausted.

Dragging yourself to the bathroom, all you wanted was to wash all of today’s dirt off of your body. So you clipped your hair, got all clothes off and stepped into rain of warm and relaxing water.

After you got out, you pulled on Schlatt’s shirt , which was way bigger than you. You did your skincare, checked your beauty out one more time and went to bed.

Sadly, Schlatt wasn’t there yet, but his voice wasn’t heard anymore. Sooner or later you heard him pass the bedroom door. Something kept you awake for little while, probably missing spot where he sleeps. But soon the sweet dreams drifted you away from reality.

“Wake up gal” his voice rang, and he admired how your lashes fluttered open. You groaned. It clearly wasn’t morning yet, it was dark around you. You felt Schlatt’s lips on your neck “it’s 12:17. Happy birthday y/n”

“Thank you. But you could’ve just told that in the morning”

“No. I want to gifts start from now” he looked at you with soft eyes “it starts with me taking care of you, if you’re up for it”

Your pussy throbbed. How could you say no? You nod and smile. “But I’m exhausted. Please don’t be rough”

“Your wish is my command”

You were in a spooning position. His hands trailed down from your neck, where he was giving you hickies, to your tits. He massaged them both before moving down your stomach. He started drawing patterns and as the were lowering, you started noticing Schlatt was drawing letters. He drew them slowly so you could understand them, it came to and end with what understood was ‘birthday girl’. You smiled softly.

His fingers played with hem of your underwear. Slowly but surely he got to your plush pussy. His fingers were tender, at first circling around to get you worked up, then when you whimpered he decided push one finger in. To be honest, his fingers were long and girthy, so even one made you let out a bunch of moans. He added another and his pace fastened a little. When J is mean and rough, he uses three fingers and abuses your clit. Now he doesn’t even think about adding more pressure on your bundle or third finger.

“ I can tell from your moans and expressions that you’re going to cum soon. Let’s count down” you whine out a somewhat ‘yes’ and feel your legs shaking a bit. “3…” Schlatt studies your face well, focused on you. You internally thank him for not changing the pace or how deep he pushes in “2…” he drags out his words before kissing you. He pulls away for a second seeing that you can’t wait any more “1. Now love” you let yourself go with a whimper that you swore you never heard from yourself. “Ah such a good girl. Doing so perfect”

“I’m sorry” you whimper embarrassed “can we continue this tomorrow morning? I’m exhausted and about to pass the fuck out. Can’t handle another orgasm”

“Yeah of course. It’s okay” he gets a paper towel/napkin from his nightstand and cleans your mess up “go to the restroom now please. Then we’ll cuddle. ”

You chuckle and flail your arms out around doing the grabby hands motion. There’s no way you could stand up and go by yourself right now. Schlatt understands and sigh’s smilingly, standing up to pick you up.

“Princess treatment only”

#schlatt #schlatt smut #mcyt x you #schlatt x reader #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #mcyt smut #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #jschlatt x y/n #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #chuckle sandwich

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mvniro · 6 months

Text

. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 MISTER LOVER ; a gojo satoru drabble. ❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . i love talking about gojo to people and explaining them with hand gestures includes on how i would suck him off. hope the users who read this drabble before could find it again!

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw; ceo!gojo, husband!gojo, fem!reader, wife!reader, fluff, sfw, gojo is insecure, fluff, reader is a few years younger then gojo, just gojo being whipped, and yeah that sums it up ig.

CEO!Gojo who goes on a jog every morning instead of using a treadmill just because he likes seeing the three neighborhood kids (namely yuji, megumi and nobara) watch him with sparkly eyes and admiration.

CEO!Gojo who stops at the nearby park to catch his breath as he sits on one of the benches, sweat glistening under the soft daylight and allows the jolly little yuji and nobara, accompanied by a shy megumi to waddle towards him with towels (which are just napkins yuji owns).

CEO!Gojo who raises his hand to stop his guards from approaching him as he let's the three three-year olds to wipe his sweat as if he is the kid. he only smiles fondly as little yuji climbs onto his lap to wipe the sweat on his forehead away but the white haired man is too tall for the little boy and so, gojo ends up leaning down. giggling softly as yuji pats his face with the towel using the softest touch he had.

CEO!Gojo who stops at a flower shop on his way home to buy you a bouquet of flowers -- classic white roses just because he thinks it'll remind you of him -- it does and does he know how you smile like a teenager everytime you look at the flowers? he does. after all, your husband is the literal definition of 'looks dumb but is smart'.

CEO!Gojo who could probably jog twice again but somehow, the moment he sets foot inside the rich apartment, he is a whining mess as he loudly complains how sore he feels or how his legs pain -- all for the sole purpose of having your hands on his thighs or shoulders, sinking into the feeling of your knuckles kneading onto his firm shoulders or your fingers caressing and applying pressure on his thighs to relieve him of some pain at least.

CEO!Gojo who is really arrogant and profession during interviews and conferences but whenever someone mentions you, his beloved wife, gojo throws out any sign of arrogance out of his head as he leans forward on his chair, beaming brightly as he talks about you with so much admiration because unknown to all who admire the confident man, satoru gojo is the most insecure man.

CEO!Gojo who doesn't like the way he smiles or how his body is and so he sticks to smirking that devilish hot smirk of his and training to have a ripped body but this same man whose eyes are shielded with a layer of fear of seeing his ugly, true self, is also the man who has won over thousands of hearts -- including your's but what makes you different is, your heart is still at his mercy even after you saw him at his lowest, you saw him breaking down simply because he couldn't calculate the statics of his next deal. whenever gojo thinks about all these, he is at awe for he never thought a beautiful yet hollow vase like him could be filled with the flowers of love and joy all because you, his water, his pillar, entered the vase of him.

and so, even if you may not know the real reason behind the flowers everyday, satoru gojo will continue to smile in secret as he sees you admire the flowers because this is the same way he admires when he stares at you face as you kneel down infront of his crouching form to wipe his tears away, how you consult and softly scold him like a mother even though you a few years younger then him.

CEO!Gojo who throws himself at you -- no really, he literally throws himself at you whenever he comes back to the shared apartment he gew accustomed to call home for the past two years after your marriage with him, the bubbly and joyful evil giggle that escapes the chambers of his soft lips are the spell which makes you smile and suddenly, the weight of the tall man as he nearly has you leaning on the kitchen counter because of his weight, is bearable.

CEO!Gojo who would ramble about the three cute kids who he goes for on a jog around the area daily before he expresses his wish to be a good father to his own kid one day. he turns to face you with a soft and wise smile, patting your cheek with the back of his palm as he speaks, "i would love to have a child with you in the distant future but that would mean i won't be able to have sex whenever I want." he would then shrug as you wheeze at his randomness.

CEO!Gojo who is really random and will always take you by surprise because how is this man calculating complex data of the different products and estimating their profit and loss mentally one minute and then asking you what is 6×7 the next??

CEO!Gojo who is smart yet dumb at the same time now that we are on the topic. he will calmly handle critics and insults thrown his way as well as degrading news articles when a project or deal doesn't go as it was expected to but the moment someone does or something goes wrong in a game, may lord have mercy on you because satoru will not. the creativeness he has when it comes to profanities shouldn't have been surprising to you considering how his tongue has always been but it still does.

"we lost because of me? No, we lost because your mother forgot the concept of birth pills and your father forgot that condoms existed. What? I am being dumn right now? No man, your mother was acting dumb when she didn't throw you off the car after the delivery"

"Man you look so pathetic that even a beggar would feel sympathy for you and give you a few dimes out of pity" gojo clicks his tongue.

"satoru!" you softly gasp, glaring at your husband who innocently shrugs.

"baby tell me, i dare you to tell me that he doesn't look as if he is expecting to deliver an eighty year old man who has seen all the horrors and developments of the world, i dare you. he can step out and people would be fooled into thinking it's halloween now."

the randomness of satoru is something you will always cherish because only he is capable of speaking absolute nonsense during a normal morning.

"don't move 'toru, i'm trying to comb your hair." you mumble lowly, brushing the comb against his white hair as he lets you, knowing how this small action brings you joy. if being treated and pampered like a child makes you happy, satoru will happily obey.

"baby my sunglasses makes me look good, yeah?" he asks, looking down at his cherished and signature sunglasses which completes his everyday look. you hum in agreement and this is when satoru jokes in a serious tone,

"not only does it make me look good but it helps to hide my bedroom eyes whenever i see my reflection in one of the glass windows." satoru shrugs as if he just told you about the weather while you stop your movements, blinking as you process his words before glancing down at him with wonder and amusement as satoru doesn't seem to realise or find anything strange in his statement.

CEO!Gojo who would giggle like a kid as he watches you open the small present he got you -- inside of a velvet black box and topped off with a red rose by its side -- and presents a condition after seeing you smile at him ; you look down at the newest shade of the huda beauty lipstick you were looking at just this morning.

CEO!Gojo who would then lay on your lap as he looks up at you and says "come on preety baby, apply the lipstick and kiss me already. wanna be your canvas today."

CEO!Gojo who makes you test if your lipsticks are smudge proof by making you kiss his entire face and neck, all just because he like the ticklish feeling of your lips on his skin or the flutter in his heart whenever your lips touch the skin of his neck or when you suck on his adam's apple.

━━━━━━━ 🎀 end.

#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk fandom #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo fluff #gojo x female reader

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toppersbitch · 1 year

Note

Hey!! I hope you are doing well!!! Is it possible for me to get "be a doll and do a spin for me, won’t you? you just look so adorable." with Topper, please? Thank you so much in advance!!! 💞

Spin for Me // Topper Thornton x Reader

Summary: Midsummers was a disaster thanks to those damn Pouges, but Topper does his best to keep you happy

Word Count: 550

Warnings: swearing, tad bit of angst, nothing more this is just fluff

Prompt: "Be a doll and do a spin for me, won’t you? you just look so adorable."

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Standing around the Midsummer's event was the most boring part; your boyfriend was off goofing around with Kelce and Rafe, nowhere in sight. Random strangers and acquaintances would muddle around, engaging in dull conversations about your life plans.However, you looked forward to dancing with Topper. You looked forward to the slow songs, holding on tight to him while swaying back and forth. JJ ran right past you, his tray of drinks splashing onto you as he took a step forward, eyeing the tray of food. "What the fuck?" you mumbled, rolling your eyes. This night was just getting worse and worse. Wine soaked through your white dress—where the hell was Topper? You just wanted to go home. You stormed into the girl's bathroom, dabbing a wet napkin over the stains. It was a total loss. You pushed open the door, grabbed your phone from your purse, and prepared to text Topper. He stepped out of the men's locker room. "Hey, what's going on?" He was looking at your face, not noticing the huge stain on your dress. "Let's go dancing!" He reached out his hand for you to take. "No, I want to go home, Top." You tried to keep your tone even as his gaze settled on the stain. "Oh, it’s really not that bad." "It’s bad. Can you please just take me home?" You didn't let him finish. You turned on your heel and began walking to the front doors and out to Topper's car. He was trailing behind you like a lost puppy. He ran ahead, opening your door for you. The drive back to his house was silent, with no music, no humorous road rage, no nothing. You said nothing as you went inside and showered; you weren’t fuming anymore. You’d had time to rationalize your feelings. Midsummer was stupid anyway, and it happened every year. "Hey Top," you saw him sitting in his bed on his phone, "I’m sorry I snapped at you; I was just so frustrated with what happened and I’m sorry." "Wait, what happened?" He sat up, pulling you to sit next to him. "JJ fucking knocked a tray of drinks into me," you rolled your eyes as you finished. "Oh, I’m so going to get back at him for that," Topper stood abruptly, "that’s fucking bullshit." "Top," you said, grabbing his arm, "that's not even the issue." "Then what?" "I just really wanted to dance with you," you pouted. "I’m sorry, baby, I should've paid more attention to you." He kneeled in front of you on the bed, held your hand, and said, "Let's dance right now." He stood, pulling up classical music through the house speakers. "No, Topper, I'm only in a towel," he shrugged, looking you up and down. You shook your head intently; there was no way in hell you would dance in a bath towel. "Come on, baby, be a doll, and do a spin for me, won’t you?" He stretched out his hand and pulled you up. He spun you around and said, "Oh, you just look so adorable." He pulled you back into himself, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you. You lifted your arms around his neck, both of your heads resting on the other's shoulder. You placed a hand on the back of his head, playing with his soft hair as he swayed you two back and forth.

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This was such a cute little prompt to write! I hope you and everyone else enjoys <3

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devilat-thedoor · 8 months

Text

What Is and What Should Never Be Ch.2

A/N: So, I’m aiming to have the chapter released on thursday or friday nights, as long as nothing gets in the way(i.e. work, life, mental health). but as always, love you and i hope you enjoy🤍 P.S. This is all fictional, straight from my imagination. Please don’t take it too seriously💖

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut(none yet, but for future reference), Bossy/Possessive behavior. Reader Discretion Advised.

You’re just a daydream away. I wouldn’t know what to say if I had you. And I’ll keep you a daydream away, just watch from a safe place, so I never have to lose.

If looks could kill, Jake would’ve been on the floor with a chalk outline surrounding him. “What the fuck is your problem? Do you understand how embarrassing that was?” He sat on the edge of the desk, completely unbothered as he stared at you, “I’m a grown woman, Jake. If you have an issue, address me like an adult, don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking toddler.” You stood from your chair, releasing a frustrated breath, “Is this funny to you?”

He had a slight tilt to his lip, eyeing you with amusement, “Actually-.” The look you gave him made him bite his lips in, trying to straighten his face out, “No. No, you’re right… It’s not funny.” He was fighting to be serious but he lost when his grin came about in full force, showcasing his perfect teeth, “You’re kinda like a rabid chihuahua when you’re pissed.” He was cackling at you, and if it weren’t for how angry you were, you might have even found his laugh cute.

“This isn’t fucking worth it.” You turned around, ripping the office door open, and grabbed your bag from below the register, “I quit.” You didn’t bother to look back at him as you stepped around the counter and headed for the front door.

Jake was planted in the office doorway, “Learn to take a joke, peach.” He called out, still a hint of laughter in his voice, “C’mon, you’re not really gonna leave.” The amusement faded when he realized you weren’t stopping. Just as your hand landed on the door, he was coming after you, “Hey, Y/N, wait.”

You ignored him, pushing through the door, only to run face first into someone coming inside. Your bag slipped from your hand, hitting the ground, “Great… This day just keeps getting better.” Grumbling to yourself, you knelt down to pick the tote bag up, rubbing your hand over your nose. You were prepared for a verbal lashing from whoever you’d collided with, but to your surprise, you were greeted by Josh’s cheery voice.

“What the- Y/N? Where are you off to, speed racer?” He was chuckling until you looked up at him, “Shit, are you okay?” Right as the question left his mouth, you could feel the first drop roll over your top lip. You clamped a hand over the lower half of your face and tried to wiggle around Josh, but he grabbed your shoulders.

You mumbled into your palm, feeling the blood pool in your hand, “Josh, let me out before it drips on the floor.” Your second attempt to squeeze by him was stopped by not only him, but his twin as well.

Jake’s hand was on your waist, turning you away from Josh to face him, “Move your hand.” He was holding a fistful of napkins, trying to survey the damage, “Y/N, move your damn hand and let me see.” His assertive tone was overshadowed by Josh’s soft one.

“Hey, let me have a look.” His hand circled your wrist gently and you allowed him to pull it away from your face. Your eyes widened at the amount of blood covering your palm and Josh was quick to ease your panic, “It’s not even that bad, Y/N, promise.” He took a few of the napkins from his brother and held them against your nose, “Does it hurt at all?” You shook your head at him, “Okay, then it shouldn’t be broken…” His free hand went to the back of your neck, angling your head down, “Try not to swallow any blood, I’m gonna grab a towel or something.” He took your bag and pressed your hand to the napkin, prompting you to hold it as he scurried deeper into the store.

Jake was grabbing your opposite hand, wiping away the crimson stains, “You need to sit down, come on.” You wanted to rip away from him, but the way his palm flattened against your back had you trailing beside him as he led you back to the office. He sat you in the chair just as Josh came barrelling through the door, “Can I take this?” He placed a small trash bin between your feet and pointed to the bloody napkin in your hand. You nodded and he knelt in front of you, carefully moving your hand to peel the tissue away and drop it into the trash, “Josh, did you get a towel?” His eyes stayed trained on you as he asked the question.

“Yeah, here. I ran it under some water.” Josh handed the rag off to his brother, “Is it still bleeding?”

You allowed Jake to dab at your nose, “No, I think she’s done.” He continued to wipe at your face, his gaze on your mouth as he slowly dragged the wet cloth across your lip. He looked up, realizing his distraction, and caught your eyes on him, “Uhh, here…” He shoved the towel into your hand and stood up, “You should go to the bathroom and clean up.” He backed away, giving you the space to get up.

Shielding your face to hide whatever mess was there, you turned to Josh, “Where…is the bathroom at?”

“Oh. It’s- I’ll show you.” His eyes flicked to Jake’s before he ushered you out of the office and walked you towards the back of the store, “Jake didn’t show you where the bathroom was?” He led you into a small hallway, one door on each side and one at the end. You shook your head as he stopped in front of the door on the left, pushing it open, “It’s here, I’ll give you a minute.” You went through, closing it behind you. A defeated sigh left your mouth at the sight of yourself in the dirty mirror. You turned the faucet on, letting the water get hot, and rinsed the rag to scrub the drying blood from your face. Of all the things that could happen on your first day, it had to be this. Everything was a shit show and you couldn’t wait to just go home, bury yourself in a mountain of blankets and never step foot in this place again. You could get a job literally anywhere else and surely there were other record stores in the area…Or you could always just order your vinyls online. You ripped a paper towel from the roll and dried your face and hands before stepping out of the bathroom. Josh was still standing in the hallway, waiting for you to come out, “I’m really sorry, Y/N. You just collided right into my shoulder, I didn’t see you com-.”

“Josh, it’s fine. I’m fine, really. It was my fault.” You stalked out of the hallway, ready to grab your things and go.

You could hear his footsteps following behind you, “Why were you in such a rush? Were you leaving?”

Your bag was on the counter where Josh had dropped it to search for a towel and you grabbed it. There were a couple people in the store now and you locked eyes with Jake as he was talking with a customer a few feet away from you, “I just… This isn’t going to work out. Me working here, I mean.” You were talking quietly to avoid making a scene.

His eyes followed yours to his twin before coming back to you, “What did he do?” You shook your head and kept walking, finally making it out the door and onto the sidewalk. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the city air, and released it as you dug through the bag for your phone. Bellamy had dropped you off in the morning and took your car to work, so your only option was to walk home or call a lyft. You hadn’t noticed that Josh followed you outside until his hand was on your arm, turning you to face him, “If he did something, you have to tell me. I’ll deal with him. Just…don’t leave, don’t quit.”

“Josh, I don’t think your brother likes me very much.” You jammed the phone into your back pocket, “And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let anybody treat me like a child… It was nice to meet you.” You didn’t leave room for a response as you turned away, opting to walk home.

“Treat you like-? Y/N, can you just-.” You felt his hand curl around your wrist again, effectively stopping you with the soft grip, “Let’s go get lunch and talk about this. I’m sure we can resolve whatever issues there are.” His pleading eyes and the way his fingertips sent a wave of warmth up your arm and through your chest made it hard to tell him no.

You ran a hand through your hair and looked past Josh, catching Jake watching the two of you through the storefront window. You looked away quickly, “There’s nothing to talk about. I just want to go home and pretend this day never happened.” You couldn’t help the whine that escaped your mouth, causing his lip to twitch into a small smirk.

He finally dropped your wrist, shoving his hands into his pockets, “You like fries? The Melt has great fries, c’mon.” He walked by you, not even bothering to check if you were coming. You gave in, following him to his car. He was already pulling the passenger door open for you as he fished his keys from his pocket.

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“Their burgers are good too.” Josh was seated across from you, looking over the menu in his hands. You couldn’t see his face behind it, just the wild curls poking out from above it.

You sipped on the iced tea in front of you, looking down at your own menu, “You had me sold on fries, honestly. I think I’m just gonna get an order of the garlic parmesan.” The waitress was coming back to your table to take your orders with a polite smile.

Josh closed his menu, and picked yours up to hand them over to her, “Are you sure that’s all you want?” You nodded at him as he looked up at the young girl, “She’s just gonna have the garlic parm fries and I am gonna do the sweet potato fries and a patty melt.” She was writing the order down in her notepad, “Actually, make that two patty melts, but can you box one up to go?” The girl replied with a quiet ‘sure thing’ before departing. His eyes fell on you and you tried to look anywhere else, “Will you tell me what happened?” You finally looked at him, catching his big brown eyes that he strategically paired with his dazzling smile.

“I don’t even know what happened, Josh.” You were stirring the straw around in your cup, listening to the ice clink against the glass, “He was in the office and a customer came in, so I did what I thought I was supposed to do and helped the guy… Some girl, Olivia, was watching the whole time. I don’t know when she disappeared, but she was there.”

He was resting his head on his fist, listening to you, “Yeah, Jake texted me and told me she wanted back on the schedule… She’s sweet, but kind of a nightmare.” He waved his hand dismissively and told you to continue.

You couldn’t help the sarcasm lacing your voice, “She’s a real sweetheart.” You tucked your hands into your lap, to stop them from touching random things on the table, “So, I have this dude ready to buy two albums and the next thing I know, Jake is yelling at me to go into the office. He accused me of flirting with the customer and then sent me off for a fucking timeout… It was humiliating.” You shook your head as you thought back on it, “And then he just laughed about it, like it was some kind of game to him. I don’t know what I did to make him hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Y/N. Jake’s just…He’s got a kind of…sardonic sense of humor, I guess?” He shrugged, trying to find the right way to describe his twin, “I’m sure he didn’t mean to upset you.”

Jake’s mocking tone floated through your brain. Learn to take a joke, peach. But the way he was staring daggers at you and your customer didn’t seem like a joke. “If that’s how every shift with him is gonna be, I can’t do it. I’m sorry, I just-.” You were interrupted by the waitress bringing your food out. She placed the dishes on the table and told Josh his to-go order would be ready in 15 minutes before she left again.

He was already shoving a few fries into his mouth, “It’s not. It won’t be, just trust me.” He mumbled around the hot food, blowing steam through his lips.

You watched as he went in for a couple more before swallowing what was already in his mouth, “I don’t know, Josh…”

He dropped the fries, wiping his fingers with a napkin before folding his hands in front of his face, “Take a day to think about it. If you really want to quit, I won’t hold it against you…but if you think you can stomach another try, come in wednesday and you’ll have me and only me. Jake won’t be around, it’s his day off.” His bright grin made it impossible to say no, so you compromised.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.” You tossed a fry into your mouth.

“Brilliant!” Satisfied with your answer, he picked his sandwich up and chomped into it with a delighted hum, his smile never fading.

You sat and ate, carrying on small conversation for a bit. Josh was incredibly open about sharing his life and you’d learned a lot about him. His parents opened the record store when he and Jake were young and passed it onto the twins when they were 22 and moved back to their home state. Now, almost four years later, they’re turning 26 and still running their family business successfully. “Our birthday is actually coming up in a few weeks.” The waitress came out with the to-go order and the check, placing them in front of Josh.

“How much was mine?” You pulled your wallet out as he placed his card on the tray and handed it back to the girl.

He swatted his hand at you, “Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I could do after giving you a bloody nose.” He pulled his lip between his teeth, “And a pretty girl should never have to pay for her meal…or is it drinks?” He scratched his chin, brows drawn together in thought, and the sight made you giggle.

“The bloody nose was one hundred percent my fault, but thank you, Josh.” The young girl came back, giving Josh his card and receipt as she muttered a ‘have a good day.’ and moved on to her next table.

He picked up the pen, writing a tip and scribbling down his signature, “You ready to go?” He stood up and you followed him through the restaurant and out the door, “I’ll drop you at your car, I gotta run Jake his lunch anyways.” He pulled the passenger door open, waiting until you slid into the seat to close it.

The short drive back was quiet, only the dull melody from the radio filling the air. When Josh parked his car along the curb you hopped out, “Thanks, again, for lunch, hun.” You offered a wave before starting down the sidewalk.

He stepped out as well, “Where’s your car?”

“Bellamy has it, I’m gonna walk.” Before he could open his mouth to protest, you added, “It’ll give some extra time to think over my decision.” You continued walking, only glancing back after a minute or so to see him leaning on the hood of his car, watching you go. He flashed a smile so bright, you could see it from a mile away, and waved before heading into the store.

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Your best friend was yelling over the blender as it pulverized the frozen fruit, “Don’t go back. That guy sounds like an asshole, Y/N.” She hit a button, effectively ceasing the noise.

“He is an asshole… Or was anyways.” You sat on the countertop beside the blender, watching her attempt to make strawberry daiquiris, “Josh practically begged me to stay though and he’s so freaking cool, Bell, like so different from his brother.” You plucked the fraying threads on your jeans, “It was kind of weird, though… When my nose started bleeding, Jake was a completely different person, like…sweet, almost?” Your mind wandered to the way he was looking at you as he carefully wiped at your lips.

“So which one is it? Which one do you wanna sleep with, babe? Josh or Jake?” Bellamy pursed her lips, waiting for an answer, “I’m serious, Y/N. I can see it all over your face.”

You hopped down from the counter, “I don’t want to sleep- I just met them, Bellamy.” She wasn’t buying it and frankly, you weren’t sure you were buying it yourself, “I just think that I could be really good at this job and that I might actually enjoy it. I don’t want to go back to making shit tips, waiting tables.” You pulled the bottle of rum from the cabinet and handed it to her, “But I need to get along with both of them if I want to stay there and the only way to do that is to try, B.”

She poured the liquor into the blender, measuring with her heart, “I hear you, sweet pea, I do.” Replacing the lid, she put the bottle on the counter and turned to face you, “I just don’t want to see you get caught up in a messy situation…especially with brothers.”

“There’s no way for things to get messy because there’s nothing to get caught up in. Promise.” You reached over and clicked the button on the machine to avoid any response she might’ve had.

Once you settled into bed for the night, you really began to weigh the pros and cons of keeping the job. Pros: Music was something you loved, deeply, and to be able to work in a place where you could talk about it all day was a dream in itself. There was also Josh. He was fun and kind and you found yourself happy to be near him, like he was someone you could truly vibe with. And Jake… He seemed cool enough, even laughed at your jokes and he has great taste in music. But the cons? You don’t know which version of Jake you would get. The arrogant dickhead or the almost sweet guy that was quick to take care of your nosebleed today? As you pondered your list, your phone pinged with a text.

Unknown 10:43pm: sorry about today. don’t quit.

Josh? He must’ve gotten your number off of the application. You were about to text back and let him know that you intended on staying when another text came through.

Unknown 10:47: come in tomorrow at noon, peach.

Peach? Jake…

You locked your phone and plugged it in, leaving it face down on the nightstand. Why did he text you? Why couldn’t he just have apologized this morning? You left the texts on read, clicking your lamp off, and pulled the comforter up to your shoulders. Now you were faced with a new decision to make; Face Jake tomorrow or avoid him and go in with Josh on wednesday. Too tired to forge another list of pros and cons, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to fall asleep.

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Tuesday 11:15am

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, securing your second dutch braid with a tiny rubberband. You tried to convince yourself all morning that it was better to just go in on wednesday, that working with Josh would be fun and you wouldn’t have to worry about every little thing you might be doing wrong. Yet here you were, checking your appearance one last time before inevitably starting the 20 minute walk to Highway Tunes, complying with Jake’s request again.

Pushing through the front door with a heavy sigh, you looked around for him, but he wasn’t in sight. “Hey there! Welcome to Highway Tunes!” The voice startled you, causing you to jump and look at the man it came from, “Is there anything I can help you with today?” Your eyes wandered up to his face. He was tall, thick dark hair, cascading in waves around his face and past his shoulders. His smile was sort of goofy, but in a beautiful way, outlined by full, pouty lips.

You opened your mouth to answer, but Jake’s voice came first, “Sam, leave the customers alone, you don’t work here.” Your view of him was obstructed by the tall boy standing in front of you, “You need to go back to class, I don’t have time for this today.”

Just then, the boy, Sam, stepped aside to face him, “My next class doesn’t start until 1.” Jake’s eyes fell on you as the other boy continued, “And you were busy, so excuse me for trying to help.” He turned back to you with an apologetic shrug, “Sorry, about that… He’s always a grump. Where were we?”

“I’m actually here to see the grump.” You pointed to where he was standing, still watching you, and scrunched your nose at the boy, “He’s my boss.”

“Ahh. You’re the new hire?” He glanced at Jake and back to you, looking you up and down, “No wonder he’s on edge today… I haven’t seen him this bad in a while.” He pulled his lip between his teeth to stifle a laugh, and before you could ask what he meant, Jake was at his side, pushing him towards the door.

“Time to go, Sammy.” You watched Sam struggle against him, trying to shout in protest, “Come back on Josh’s shift, later.” He shoved the boy out the door and pulled it shut, waiting for him to walk away before turning to you, “He’s a fucking nuisance. I’m sorry.”

He walked by you, going towards the back of the store, “I don’t know… I thought he was kinda cute.” You kept a playful tone, making it obvious that you were joking, but you saw Jake visibly tense up, “Kidding…ha ha. You’re supposed to laugh.” When he didn’t say anything, you were sure you’d made a mistake coming in, “Or you can yell at me and accuse me of flirting again…Goodbye.” You turned away, heading for the door just like the day prior.

“Wait…” You didn’t bother to stop or even look back at him, until he yelled, “Goddammit, would you stop doing that!” When you finally turned back to him, he was only a few feet from you, clenching his jaw, “Do you get enjoyment out of ignoring me?”

“Ignoring you?” A humorless laugh fell from your lips, “Why am I here, Jake? Did you tell me to come down here just so you could fucking berate me again?” You were glaring at him, waiting for a response, but he remained silent, staring directly back at you, “Well, if you have nothing to say then-.”

He stepped forward, his hand curling around your wrist before you could walk away again, “Y/N, just- I’m sorry, okay?” You took note of how gentle his grip was as the door chimed. He looked over your shoulder to whoever had come in before dropping your wrist, “Go wait- Can you wait in the office? Please?” He went to greet the customer and you went in the opposite direction. You stood behind the counter, watching Jake lead the older woman around the store with a polite smile. There was something admirable about the way he carried himself, the confidence he displayed. He moved like he knew you were watching him; always angling himself so you could see his face, without ever looking at you. He would run his fingertips over his lips or his chin with a subtle smirk, drawing attention to his hands and mouth. You found yourself staring, keeping up with his every move, until he was coming towards you. Standing up straight, you attempted to look distracted, but his face said he knew you were eyeing him, “Alright, Ms Grace, I’m gonna have Y/N check you out while I go put that order in for you, okay?” Jake came around the counter to stand behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “Can you do that for me, peach?”

Turning your head slightly, you caught his eyes and gave a nod, “Y-yeah… No problem.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you tried to focus on anything other than the electric current his touch sent through your body. You directed your attention to the woman, probably in her 60s, “Hi, did you find everything you were looking for today?” Jake dropped his hands with a smile and went into the office.

“For the most part, yes.” She placed her findings on the counter and slid them over to you, “Everything except Frank Sinatra.” She shook her head as you picked up the vinyls and began ringing them up; Unforgettable by Nat “King'' Cole and I Put a Spell On You by Nina Simone, “I can’t believe they sold out of Sinatra…” She slapped her palm on the countertop.

“Oh… Ms Grace, is it?” You waited for her to confirm, “Well, Ms Grace, you still got some really great picks today. I adore Nina Simone, but I also know how great Ol’ Blue Eyes sounds on vinyl.” She nodded her head, impressed with your sentiment, “Jake will get your order put in and I’m sure it’ll be here by Friday with our regular shipment.” Putting on the sweetest smile you could, you gave her the total, “For these two, it’s gonna be $64.97 today, hun.”

She placed her bulky purse on the counter, digging through it, “You tell Jacob and Joshua to call me the minute my order comes in, okay, honey?” The woman retrieved her wallet, pulling a few bills from it, and handed them over.

You accepted them, placing them in the drawer and handing back her change, “Of course, Ms Grace. I will pass the message along.” You tucked her two records into a bag and gave it to her, “You have a great day!”

“Oh you too, honey!” She took the bag from your hand and slung her purse over her shoulder, “Good thing they replaced that snotty blonde girl… I like you a lot better.” She waved her hand with a scoff as she turned to leave.

You watched her go, chuckling to yourself when you felt Jake standing behind you, “Grace likes you, now you have to stay.” He was so close, you could smell the smoky scent of his cologne, “She’s been telling us to get rid of Liv since she started.”

“She might be onto something…” You shuffled away from him, moving to the opposite side of the counter to look at him face to face, “Give me a reason to stay. I need more than just the approval of one of your regulars.” You watched his lip curl into the familiar smirk.

He was too relaxed, leaning on his elbows, “What does everyone have against Liv? She’s my gold star, always bringing in the sales.” He laughed as you rolled your eyes at him, “Okay, alright, peach… You’re good here. Not even two hours into your first shift and you managed to sell not just one, but two albums.” You crossed your arms over your chest, silently telling him you needed more, “That kid yesterday was fucking smitten with you, kept saying how much of a help you were.” You could see the distaste in his expression over the boy’s interest in you, “and I heard you talking to Grace. You know music. More than anybody else we’ve ever hired. I can tell it’s something you’re passionate about and we need more of that here.” Your face broke into a grin at his admission and now he was rolling his eyes, “Are you gonna stay or not?”

“I might consider it if you set me up with that cute guy that was here when I came in.” You waited to see how he would react. Maybe he would shrug your comment off or maybe he would tense up again, maybe get angry, “He had a pretty smile.”

He pushed his tongue into his cheek, forcing his shoulders to relax, “You gonna let both of my brother’s take you out to lunch, peach?” He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away, heading towards the back of the store, “When do I get my turn, huh?” He vanished into the back hallway, going through the door parallel to the bathroom.

You were dumbfounded, partially from his inquiry, but also from finding out the tall boy was he and Josh’s brother. You toed down the hallway, leaning on the door frame, “How many brother’s do you have?” He didn’t answer, just continued moving through the room. There were boxes scattered around the floor and tucked into shelves. It must’ve been storage, where they kept their inventory and overstock, “Okay…well you should know that jealousy isn’t a good look on you.” You cocked an eyebrow as he finally looked at you, “And if you want a ‘turn’ all you have to do is ask.” His mouth hung open as you turned to leave, smiling to yourself. You called from the end of the hallway, “Send me my schedule. I know you have my number.” As you made it back to the front of the store, you heard him call out a ‘Bye, peach.’ before you pushed through the door to head back home.

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The next few weeks ran smoothly. You worked with Josh a lot and those shifts were always fun. He made the environment comfortable, but shifts with Jake were also fun in their own way. Josh was the type to turn a slow, boring day into a childish game of hide and seek. You would be standing at the counter, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, only to get a ‘come find me’ text from him. You’d spend the next 10 minutes running around the store, checking all the nooks and crannies you could find, searching for him. And every time, you would give up and text him back with some excuse that would force him out of his hiding spot, calling you a sore loser. He was all flirty comments and goofy jokes all the time, sure to draw giggles from you whenever he opened his mouth and you absolutely adored it.

Working with Jake was completely different. There were no games, at least not the kind Josh would come up with. It was a back and forth match of snide comments, or sarcastic remarks that would have you two glaring at each other one second, just to turn your backs and smile the next. Sometimes he’d display an odd, almost possessive nature; He never pulled you away from a customer like the first day you’d worked, but with some customers, specifically the younger men, you would always catch him lingering close by or keeping his eyes on you from wherever he was. When you finally asked him why he did it, he’d just played it off like he had no idea what you meant.

You got to meet the other employees as well. There was Charlie, an older man in his late 40s. He’d worked for the boy's parents for over a decade and stayed on after they’d handed the store down. He only works a few days a week, but he’s the one Jake and Josh rely on to run things when neither of them can open or close up. Then there was Nate, a young, high school kid who picked up a shift or two during the week, after school. And, of course, Olivia. Or Liv, as Jake called her. His gold star. God, Josh was right when he said she was a nightmare. You didn’t work with her very much, but the shifts you did share with her could never go by quick enough. It was always you, her and Jake, and she wasn’t exactly subtle in the way she threw herself at him. Sometimes he would indulge her, grasping her hips to move around her or brushing up against her to grab a record that she ‘just couldn’t reach.’ Everytime, it made you irrationally angry and you didn’t know why. But after this Friday shift, you were happy to have the weekend off..now you wouldn’t have to see her until Monday night. You grabbed your bag from its place, below the register, and clocked out, “Josh, I’m heading out! See you next week, hun.” You called out to him, unsure of where he may have been.

“Shit…Y/N, wait!” He came flying out of the back, tripping over his own feet. You let out a soft laugh as he bounded up to you, “Hey.”

“Hey…”

He stood up straight, pulling at a few of his curls, “Do you- Uhh…what are you doing tonight?” He left no room for a response as he kept talking, “My birthday- or, our birthday, me and Jakey… It’s tomorrow, that’s why we’re closed.” He was rambling and you tried to stifle your smile at his flustered appearance, “We were gonna go out to celebrate tonight. Did you wanna-? Are you doing anything?” He had a hopeful look in his eyes and you felt guilty for having to turn him down.

“Josh, I’m sorry… This and the first weekend me and Bellamy have had off together since we moved here.” You placed a hand on his shoulder with an apologetic frown, “We made plans to go out and explore the bar life in the area.” You felt his shoulders drop in defeat and pulled your hand back, “I’ll make it up to you… I’ll bake you both a cake or something. I am really sorry.”

“Naah, it’s okay. I should’ve mentioned something earlier.” His smile returned, bright as ever, “Have fun tonight, and I’m gonna hold you to that cake.” He was already heading back to the storage room, “I like vanilla, Jake likes chocolate. Figure it out!” You watched him dramatically wave his hand before disappearing through the doorway.

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“Do my tits look good?” Bellamy was standing on the curb, using a random car window to check her reflection.

You pulled your dress down to ensure your ass wasn’t hanging out as you moved to look at her, “They look as perfect as they did the last time you asked, B.” You turned your back to her, looking up at the neon sign that illuminated the bar entrance, Blondie’s Bar, “I swear to god, if this one is filled with frat boys too, I’m calling it a night and going home.” It was ticking closer to midnight and your first San Francisco bar crawl was turning out to be a let down. Of the four bars you’d already been to, the first was filled with snobs, drinking wine and while classical music played quietly in the background. You didn’t even stay for a single drink, Bellamy was pulling you back out of the door before it had a chance to shut behind you. The other three were places the two of you would normally find a good time at, but after a shot or two, the testosterone ridden college jocks would become insufferable at their attempts to flirt. You couldn’t make your disinterest more obvious to them. After paying the cover and walking into the fifth bar, you weren’t feeling very hopeful.

Bellamy looped her arm with yours as you went through the door, “It doesn’t seem terrible.” The space wasn’t very large, but it was especially packed for a Friday night and there was live music, “Oooh, and I think I see potential.” You tried to follow her gaze, but there were too many people to tell who she was looking at.

“Alright, let’s get a drink before you run off to charm some poor boy.” You dragged her to the bar as you both laughed. The bartender greeted you with a nod, “Hi, we’ll take two shots of Jameson and- What do you want, Bell?”

She leaned in close, talking loudly to the bartender, “I want a long island!”

Her nose was tinted red, telling you she was decently buzzed, “Okay. Two shots of Jameson, a long island and I’ll have a whisky ginger, please!” He poured the shots, sliding them over to you, and went about making your drinks.

Bellamy threw her shot back and picked her glass up from the bar top, “I’m gonna try to find that guy I saw when we came in.” She was looking around the space, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, B. I don’t need a babysitter.” You took your own shot and placed the tiny glass beside hers, “Go do your thing, babe!” She gave you a hard peck on the cheek before slinking off into the crowd. Part of you wanted to do the same thing; run off to find some cute guy that you could take home… But at the same time, you had no interest in hooking up with a random guy. Back home you had a regular no-strings-attached hookup that you could call to scratch that itch, but here, you didn’t know anybody. And you didn’t give yourself the time to meet new people when all you did was go to work and go home. You ordered another shot as you sat by yourself, occasionally looking around for your friend. After finishing your whisky ginger, you got one more shot or Jameson and stood to go and find her. It had been about a half hour since she’d gone on her search. Weaving through the crowd of people, you started to feel the effects of the liquor, but you pushed through and headed into the bathroom to pee.

When you reemerged, Bellamy was in your face, gushing about the guy she’d seen, “Babe, I found him! He’s so fucking hot. Fuck, I don’t remember his name…” She bit her lip in thought for a moment before shaking her head, “Doesn’t matter. I’ll ask him again later. But he wants to take me back to his apartment.” She let out a squeal loud enough that you could hear it over the band playing on the small stage, “Do you think you can get home by yourself?”

“Wait, you’re leaving? Bellamy, what if this guy is like a murderer?” You were staring at her, trying to focus through the blurring in your vision.

“He studies photography in college, I doubt he’s a murderer, Y/N.” She was practically pleading for your approval with her large, puppy eyes.

You gave it thought before relenting, “I want your location before you even leave this bar.” She pulled her phone out, clicking a few times, and sent your live link for her location. “Thank you. Be safe, Bell. I love you.”

She wrapped her arms around you in a suffocating hug, “I love you more, sweet pea. Let me know when you get home, okay?” You watched her vanish into the sea of bodies again and headed back to the bar to close your tab out.

You climbed onto a stool, waiting for the bartender to finish the flirty conversation he was having with the red headed girl at the opposite end of the bar, when a deep voice startled you, “Funny seeing you here, peach.” You looked up to see Jake sliding onto the stool next to you, “Josh told me you weren’t coming out tonight.”

“Me and Bellamy were looking for a good place to get drinks…ended up here.” You were playing with the straw in your empty glass, poking at the melting ice, “I didn’t know this is where you guys would be.”

“Ah. The infamous Bellamy. Do I finally get to meet her?” He looked around you, trying to figure out which one of the women could be your best friend.

The bartender came over to you now, asking if you wanted a refill. You politely declined and asked him to close you out., “She left already, unfortunately. Some other time, I guess.” You hopped down from the stool and pulled your dress down over your thighs just as the man laid your card on the bartop, “I think I’m heading out too…I’ll see you Monday, boss.” You flashed him a smile as you turned away and you tripped on air, sending yourself towards the floor.

Jake reached out, hooking an arm around your waist to catch you, “You’re not driving are you?” You could hear the concern in his voice as you shook your head, “Well how are you getting home, Y/N?” He made sure you were steady on your feet before letting his arm drop.

You put your palm over your forehead, squinting through the lights, as you started to realize how much you’d had to drink, “Uhhh…Walking. I’m gonna walk. It’s only a few blocks, I think.” You opened the small bag you were carrying to retrieve your phone, “Shit. Bellamy has the house keys.” You groaned out loud, fanning your face as the room started to tilt and shift, “Is it hot in here? I’m sweating. Are you hot?”

“Let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” He was leading you through the bar quickly, “How much did you drink, Y/N?” His tone was almost scolding, mirroring how your dad might have talked to you after doing something you shouldn’t have, “Y/N, how much?”

The cool air hit your face as you waved dismissively at him, “I like it better when you call me peach.” You could hear yourself slurring the words, “Can you just call me peach, Jake? I like how it sounds coming from these lips.” You poked at his mouth with your index finger. He caught your wrist to stop your prodding but he didn’t pull your hand away from his lips, just kept his eyes locked on your own. That same electric current you felt when he had his hands on your shoulders or every time his fingers would graze your skin in passing, it was there, sparking through your veins and lighting your nerve endings on fire. You leaned into him, so close that you could feel his breath against your face. “I have to go home…” Your voice was a meek whisper as you pulled your arm from his grasp and stepped away.

You barely stumbled to the curb before he was at your side again, “You can’t walk home, peach. Let me get you a lyft or something.” He dug his phone from his pocket, opening up the ride app, while keeping a hand on your waist. “Okay. Ride’s gonna be here in two minutes, you’ll have to tell ‘em your address.” You nodded as you began to sway and your head dropped to his shoulder, “Hey… Hey, are you fucking sleeping? Peach?… Goddammit.”

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The sound of a door closing echoed in your head, forcing your eyes to open. Your hands came up immediately, digging the heels of your palms into the sockets in an attempt to combat the blinding sunlight. Once they were accustomed to the brightness, your eyes wandered, taking in your surroundings. It was a room you didn’t recognize. Did you go home with someone? A feeling of dread started to consume you as you realized the clothes on your body weren’t yours. You sat up in the bed, searching for any indication of who’s bedroom you were in, when a soft knock on the door stole your attention. You stayed silent, unsure if you wanted to know who was on the other side.

“Y/N, are you up?” The voice had you tossing the duvet from your body and clambering out of the bed. You misjudged how far down the floor was, causing you to tumble as you rushed to swing the door open, “Finally… Here.” Jake placed a bottle of water in one hand and a paper coffee cup in the other before turning away, “Water first, then coffee, peach.” You watched him disappear through a doorway as you stared after him in disbelief.

When he didn’t come back after a minute, you placed the drinks on the closest table and followed him. Turning into the room he’d gone into, you found that it was a kitchen and Jake was sitting at the breakfast nook in the corner, flipping through a stack of papers. You studied him for a few silent moments, trying to work up the nerve to ask him a difficult question, “Umm. Jake…” His eyes flicked to you briefly before setting back on the paper. When you didn’t say anything he dropped his pen and fully faced you. Your gaze dropped to your hands as they tugged at the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing.

“I slept on the couch, peach. Nothing happened.” He picked his coffee up, taking a long chug, “Did you drink that water?”

You took a few steps towards him, “How did I end up here?”

He motioned for you to take the seat across from him. Once you sat down, he stood up and left the room, returning a few seconds later with the water bottle and the coffee cup, “Drink.” He pushed the water in front of you, “At least half.” You sat in a glaring match with him until you finally broke and twisted the cap off, chugging it down, “Good job, peach.” He picked the pen up and went back to his paperwork, “Do you remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember is Bellamy leaving the bar and I went to close my tab…Then you were there…” Your eyes shifted back and forth as you combed your brain for any memory, “I think…Fuck, I don’t know. I never get that drunk.” You buried your face in your palms with a whine. “Why am I here? Did you change my clothes?” It sounded like an accusation but you didn’t mean it that way.

Jake let out a quiet chuckle, “You changed your own clothes, Y/N.” He put the pen down again and pushed his papers aside, “You were trying to walk home by yourself last night, could barely stand up straight. I ordered you a lyft to get you home and you passed out while we waited for it.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at you, “I don’t know where you live and I wasn’t just gonna leave you on the sidewalk to get yourself home, so I brought you here… You were in and out the whole ride. Once I got you inside, you said you had to pee, so I walked you to the bathroom and left you to do your business, but you were complaining about your dress riding up and you started taking it off.” You could feel your face growing red with embarrassment and he was trying hard to hide his amusement, “I grabbed some shit that I thought you would be more comfortable in and left it on the sink for you. You must have changed at some point, because when you finally came out of the bathroom, you were in the clothes I left and your dress was thrown in my shower…I just put you in the bedroom and let you sleep it off.”

You laid your forehead on the tabletop, “I’m so sorry…” How could you let this happen? Lifting your head to look at him, you caught his eyes, “Thank you, Jake, really. But, I’m so fucking sorry.” Your eyes widened as a realization hit you, “Oh-Oh my god… It’s your birthday… It’s your birthday and I- you just-.”

“Let’s go get breakfast, I’m starving.” He tipped back the last of his coffee and stood up. When you didn’t move, he tapped the table to gain your attention, “Peach. Breakfast. Let’s go.” He nodded towards the doorway.

“Jake, I don’t have clothes. I should just go home.” You finally pushed yourself to your feet, “Where’s my stuff?”

He pulled his phone up to check the time, “It’s in the bedroom and you can wear what you have on. I’ve been waiting all morning for you to wake up so we could eat.” You stared at him, confusion evident on your face, “Jesus, Y/N, go get your things.”

At a loss for words, you scurried around him and back to the room you’d awoke in to gather your stuff. When you came out, he was standing at the front door, holding the booties you wore out the night before. You took them from his hand and slipped them on hastily, “Are you taking me home?”

“After breakfast, peach.” He pulled the door open, ushering you out, and locked it behind him. You tried to protest but he held his finger up to silence you, “It’s my birthday, you can’t be a fucking brat today.” He moved by you, purposely bumping your shoulder as he passed. You rolled your eyes, mumbling to yourself to mock him. He whipped around to face you, “What did you say?”

You plastered on the brightest smile you could muster, batting your eyelashes at him, if only to get under his skin, “Oh… Just happy birthday, Jakey.” He was stuck in place, staring at you with a slight gape to his mouth. You just shrugged and pushed past him, bumping his shoulder right back, as you walked down the apartment building corridor, “Breakfast. Let’s Go.” You looked back at him with a smirk, repeating his own words.

“That fucking mouth…”

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