#same for not letting you use the bathroom

[xiaprint]

heaven on earth

caleb x femreader | minor intoxication, size kink, caleb and his stupidly fat cock, pain mention, unprotected sex | minors dni

caleb liked to think that he had a good head on his shoulders.

he graduated top of his class, gave the valedictorian speech in both high school and the flight academy. liked by his peers, active in clubs and athletics— no one ever had a bad thing to say about him. there was a natural charisma to him that plenty were drawn to, ladies attracted like moths to a flame. good grades, built body, handsome smile. the entire package.

even if he did have everything, he never went out of his way to boast. he preferred to be humble and gracious, never one to take anything for granted. his job, his colleagues, his finances were all thanks to hard work and sacrifice.

this general label of golden boy fit him well. he couldn’t deny that he was, all things considered, a pretty decent guy. respectful and earnest, his drive was all for you. you’ve had a keen eye, could sniff out the bad in everyone. you’d be the first to get in his ear when he’d bring a new friend around, warning him that the people he surrounded himself with were bad news. a lot of his good decisions were influenced by you.

everyone had their faults. caleb, as perfect as he may seem on the surface, had a pretty sick obsession with watching your tight pussy struggle to swallow up a big cock.

tonight was one of those nights where you stumbled into the shared place, house keys slammed clumsily into the small glass bowl right inside of the front door. caleb could hear your grumbles from his bedroom, door cracked slightly to welcome you in. another voice was heard, likely one of your friends that brought you home, before the front door clicked shut. he was sure you’d be crawling your way into his bed in a minute’s time, always did when you had too much to drink at work dinner parties.

soft giggles could be heard as you abandoned your heels in front of the entryway, caleb’s observant ears perking up at the clatter. you always made him pick up after you, an old habit that truly never seemed to die.

you popped your head in through the door, just like he knew you would. giving him the sweetest smile, hiccuping over the small greeting you cooed his way. caleb always felt such an intensified need to hold you and coddle you when you were like this, the same guy who stuck to you like glue during your first legal birthday. he had you on his arm that entire night, refused to let you do so much as use the bathroom on your own.

he’s the first thing you seek when you’re inebriated like this, fuzzy and disoriented, desperate for a warm body to cling to. his scent sticks out like a sore thumb, enough to find him in a crowd full of people. it’s crisp and clean yet holds the type of musk and spice that makes you wanna stuff your face right into his collar.

“there’s my girl,” he hums, knowing smirk settled on his lips as he sits up with his head against the wooden headboard. a laugh dies in his throat with the way you trudge over, feet dragging against his floorboards just to reach his side a few moments later. a strong arm catches your waist, tugging you swiftly to sit pretty in his lap. “oh, you smell potent.”

“sounds like a bad thing,” you mumble and he can practically hear the pout in your tone, chuckling to himself when he realizes that he offended you. his cheek presses into your hair as you settle down, feet wrapped up under his ankles, back reclined fully against his chest for support.

big hands run up and down your thighs lovingly, a gentle touch that isn’t meant to lead further. it’s more of an effort to ground you, one shifting up to catch your head as it flops to the side.

“yeah, that’s not what i meant,” a dry snort leaves caleb’s lips, gentle in the way he leads your face to rest against his own. cheek to cheek, nuzzling into his warmth like you were freezing cold. the domesticity of it all melts him from the inside out, still finding it hard to believe that the two of you are finally rooming together once more after reuniting.

it’s been an adjustment, learning how to live with one another all over again. you had forgotten how much he nags in the mornings and he had forgotten how disorganized you can be, experiencing lovers quarrels at least once a day. moments like these make it more than worth it, being able to hold you when you’re most vulnerable.

a soft hiccup leaves your lips, dragging him from his reminiscing.

“how was the company dinner?” he hums in that quiet voice of his, considerate of the late hour and how your mind is likely taking several extra seconds to process a simple question.

you think long and hard, something that pulls another huff of amusement from his lips. it’s a struggle to focus when his hands fiddle with the lace of your skirt, when they smooth over the fat of your thighs. all of the absent touches were part of caleb’s personality, a handsy guy through and through. he never realizes what he’s doing until he’s taken it far beyond repair, just like now.

he catches the way you stare at his fingers, experimental with how he squeezes the flesh of your thigh. your lashes flutter at the sight, gaze trailing slowly over the curve of his knuckles. his thumb caresses the skin, purple eyes shining with mischief when you pick your attention up just to catch him staring right back at you.

“well?”

“it was good,” you mumble, slurring over the fast and forced response. there wasn’t much to note, just having indulged in one too many fancy mixed drinks that were all on the association’s tab. they worked you to the bone so abusing the credit limit only felt right. it was merely compensation for your unmedicated stress and constant achy shoulders.

“well, i’m glad you had a good time.” caleb leans to whisper against the shell of your ear, touch drifting north to creep under the hem of your fluffy skirt. his fingers knead, play with your skin like dough, pulling and jiggling.

he knew the second you left that it would end like this, really. it was almost routine to welcome you back from a night out with some kisses and some love, to ease your hazy mind with pleasure. you were dressed to kill and he was your usual victim, unable to help himself from staring down into the dip of your low cut top.

“let’s get you out of this,” he murmurs in suggestion with a sweet kiss to your earlobe, patting your hip in favor of guiding you to lift. you do, albeit sluggish and half-assed, caleb only able to shake his head and assist you. luckily, he was strong enough to make up for your lack of compliance, thumbs dipping into the waistband and dragging your skirt and panties down your legs in one fell swoop.

everything blurs the minute he turns your head with a big hand, placing a firm kiss on your glossed lips. the substance is tacky and sticky and he wouldn’t have it any other way, smearing the makeup with long pecks. your jaw slackens and welcomes his insistent tongue, tasting you from teeth to cheek to tongue.

oh, how caleb loves to kiss.

it’s one of the loudest forms of intimacy, a special way of many to indulge in his heaven on earth. you always moan so pretty when he kisses you, this time no different. properly sat with your ass on top of his bulge, he has the leeway to touch. one hand groping your breast through the thin top, the other guiding his cock out of his loose sweats. this is how he liked you best.

your pussy was drooling for attention, slinky strings of your arousal sticking to his tip everytime he slapped it against your clit. each hit had you jolting, whines spilling from your lips into his own. it was filthy, the way you could feel your swollen bud pulse with need that caleb was keeping just barely out of reach. bucking your hips only helped so much, whines following when he failed to give you what you wanted most.

“sit still so i can fill you, baby,” caleb whispers against your heated skin, smiling to himself at the way you nod your head in lazy acceptance. a hiss leaves him as soon as the tip disappears between your folds, breaking that resistance with a lewd pop. you gush around him, the cum oozing out of the head smearing along your walls when he slowly pushes it in.

you choke on your heavy breaths, his cue to take things slower. soft kisses find their way down the length of your neck, careful to rub a soothing hand along your thigh, the first to jump at comforting you. getting you used to his size was a learning process but the patience has paid off, your pussy all the more accepting each time he dives into you.

“look at that,” he whispers, winded as he tilts your face down to peer at where you’re connected. it’s a sloppy mess between your thighs, poor lips puffed and battered. they hug his fat shaft, sheening him in a clear layer of gloss. “remember when you couldn’t fit all of me? felt like a monster when i made you cry and push me away.”

the reminder coaxes you to shiver, thighs shaking as you struggle to keep position, the balls of your feet planted on the duvet below you. “now look at you. slides right in, doesn’t it? you worked so hard for it so now you can take it.”

take it, you do. he helps you with two strong hands steady on the curve of your waist, fucking you on his dick with greed. the pace quickly escalates from careful to selfish, sweat gathering at caleb’s brow. the force of his hips clapping up into your ass has tears gathering in your eyes, gasping for air as he bullies his length into your sore cunt.

strings of your slick stick to his dick, snapping everytime you stray too far. they painted your thighs and his alike, a gooey mess that only worsened the more your hips smacked down against his.

“shit. i think she loves me,” a breathless laugh rings in your ears, almost mockingly. your eyebrows bow and furrow, little toes curling up. “does she? you think she likes bein’ all full and plugged like that?”

you muster a broken whimper in reply, back arching off of his chest when two digits slide against your neglected clit in sensual circles.

the sheer strength of the rhythm has your tits spilling out of your top, falling from your lowcut collar, the fabric slipping. there’s no chance that you’d be moving so consistently if it weren’t for his help, caleb doing all of the heavy lifting and hard work with his mean thrusts and his harsh tugs.

even with the cruel way he’s digging himself up into you, he’s so very sweet. attentive eyes all on your face, lips smearing each open area of skin with kisses and bites. his grunts fill your ears like honey, leaky pussy making a mess that streams all down his balls.

“can’t get enough,” he pants, damp forehead pressed into your shoulder blade, hyper-focused on fucking up into you. his cock has a delicious curve that molds inside of you, hitting depths that nobody else could dream of. it almost aches, your squeaks and squeals bouncing off of his bedroom walls. “i’m all yours. i’ve always been all yours. say it. this cock is all yours, yeah?”

“mhm!” you sputter back, barely there, brain muddled with sex and sensation that drowns you.

“mhmmm,” he groans back in reply like a reflex, one of his palms smacking the side of your ass with a gentle slap. “all you. got the prettiest girl in the world bouncin’ on me, fuck.”

his words are strained with the effort to prolong his orgasm, eager to indulge in the first time you managed to take his cock without a break. you were finally filled to the brim, could take him without needing to tap out or cry in a way that wounded him. your walls are too greedy for him, caleb far too weak to the way your pussy begs for a fill.

he doesn’t get the chance to warn you, thick arms wrapping around you as cum pumps up into your cunt. hot and thick, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. you feel him twitch, the sensation alone aiding you in your own release. sweat and sex fills the hot air, the last braincell caleb has left yelling at him to pull out and give your poor pussy a rest.

“doesn’t hurt, right?” worry fills his quiet tone, soft pants leaving his lips. he angles his head forward, peeking over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, pleased to find pure bliss instead of a grimace this time around.

[girliemattitude]

Not the same - M.S 𖥔 ݁ ˖

Matt’s hips moved on autopilot.

The girl beneath him Leah? Lena? Lana? was face down, her arms stretched out like she was posing for someone, back arched perfectly, moaning loud like she thought it was expected of her.

He wasn’t really listening. He wasn’t even really here. Not mentally.

His hands were on her waist, and yeah, she was pretty, body soft and warm, skin smooth under his palms. Her apartment smelled like lavender and body spray, and her sheets were a blueish color .

It was all wrong. She was loud, too loud. Moaning like a porn star, trying to sell it like it was the best fuck of her life, even though Matt knew he wasn’t giving her anything special.

Not tonight. Not now.

Because his mind was on you.

God. You.

The way you never faked anything. Never tried to be perfect or put on a performance. You used to whisper his name so smoothly, like you needed him closer just to breathe.

The way you ran your fingers through his hair, always keeping eye contact when it got slow, intimate. The kind of gaze that made his stomach twist.

Matt’s rhythm stuttered. He blinked down at the girl beneath him. Her back glistened faintly under the soft light, her fake moans echoing off the high ceilings.

He wasn’t even hard anymore.

He pulled out quietly, careful not to make a scene, and she didn’t even notice at first just kept going like she was still playing a part.

Then she turned her head lazily and smiled, chest heaving. “That was so good,” she purred, reaching back for him.

Matt just nodded, jaw tight. “Yeah. You okay?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Mmhmm.” She reached for him again, this time pulling him into a hug, like they were something. Like they meant something.

He let her. Because he was decent. Because it would be rude to pull away when she looked so content. But it made his skin crawl, how easy it was for her. How easy it was for people to just pretend.

Because with you it always meant something. There was always something real in the way you kissed him before you left. In the way he’d wake up reaching for you before realizing you were gone.

You used to smell like vanilla. That soft, warm scent that stayed on his hoodie for hours after. The one he never wanted to wash out. He missed it now. Missed it so badly it almost choked him.

He sat up, dragging a hand through his hair, chest tight, and reached for the tissue box on her nightstand; “You want me to clean you up?” Lana blinked at him, surprised. “Uh… sure.” Of course she was surprised. No one usually offered. But Matt always did. It’s the bare minimum right? That’s just who he was. Polite. Thoughtful. Even when he didn’t want to be here anymore. Even when every second in her bed made him feel further away from himself.

He cleaned her gently, tossing the tissue and mumbling something about the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, gripping the sink, heart pounding like it shouldn’t be.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He thought maybe if he fucked someone else, the ache would fade. That the ghost of your name still sitting in his phone, the unsent messages, blurry photos he hadn’t brought himself to delete would finally stop haunting him. But you weren’t gone.

Not really. You lived in every little detail he noticed now. In the silence after sex. In the way no one else looked at him the way you did. The way no one made him feel like you made him feel with just your eyes and the soft scratch of your nails in his back. He felt cold despite the heat of someone else’s skin.

He came back to the bed, pulled on his shirt.

“You leaving?” she asked, smiling at him sleepily.

Matt hesitated. “I’ll stay a little,” he said, even though he didn’t want to, he wasn’t an asshole.

But all he could think about was you. How you used to curl into his side after, not saying anything. Just breathing with him. Just being there.

He lay back on the pillow, eyes on the ceiling, the ache in his chest unbearable.

She wasn’t you.

And no matter how many girls he fucked, none of them ever would be.

You weren’t just another girl he missed.

You were it.

And nothing after that will ever feel the same.

A/N: This morning I felt like writing so instead of finish editing my long list of drafts I wrote this new angsty blurb instead. I hope you like it :)

Taglist: @nialler-lover @httpssturns @bernardsbendystraws @lovingchrissposts @theowensturniolo @sturnsoftt @courta13 @xoxochrissgf @sturnililio

©girliemattitude

[lilliths-story-studio]

“Why were you in those woods?”

It’s the first thing Cassy asks when she sees me, her words rushed and squeaking the slightest at the end. She’d been leaning against the back of her car, smoke floating upward towards the sky the same way Grocery Greg had promised - I need to find out his actual name.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her about him- let her freak out more. She always did get loose lipped when stressed, maybe I can get a straight answer.

But the question won’t fly, the words sticking in my soft palette.

‘Lets’s keep this between us…’

I’m going to find a way to drown him in the sad little trickle between the pebbles of that stream.

“Decided to walk while I waited.” I say instead.

“Alone? With your hair-“

“Yes, for gods sake. Stop with the hair.”

“So your just gonna walk around open-“

“If you wanna play interrogation, where’d you get off to?”

“I got cigarettes.”

“I see that.” My nose wrinkles. “And it took the whole time I was running laundry?”

“I went to the bathroom, if you have to know.” She says.

A fair point, I hadn’t checked the ladies room. So every possibility exists that my trek through the woods was entirely unnecessary.

Would be my luck.

“You flew off half-cocked again, didn’t you?” She huffs. “I hope it was an interesting walk. I switched your clothes since you were still gone, and I don’t want to be out here all night.”

Her foot taps twice.

“Thanks.” I offer stiffly, still not certain what -if anything- to say.

“You’re welcome. Don’t go into those woods alone anymore.”

“I’m not going to promise you that.”

Her lips drain to white, pressing together. Her cigarette is shoved between them.

“Play with death on your own time.” She says through gritted teeth, whispy little fingers licking free. “You think those things don’t come this far?”

It’s funny, because an hour ago that would have been the worst thing I could have imagined. Trapped and unable to remember what had happened.

“Let em.” I walk past her and into the laundry. It feels like walking into a wall of fire. The dryer is rumbling away, punctuated by the rhythmic slap of my jeans being tossed about.

She follows me, door swinging shut behind her.

“Can you take your poison outside?” I don’t know if I’m talking about her or the smoke.

“No.��� She takes another long drag. “I asked you to stay out of the woods, I ask you to let me keep your hair braided - everything I ask you is a no. So - no.”

I’m about to tell her she can finish her stupid hunt herself. At this point, Vegas is seeming like a perfectly reasonable option. I’ve got this odd tingle sense, right? Maybe I can use that.

But it doesn’t trigger around Cassy at all, so maybe it’s not honed enough to go full blown witch hunting. Still - I’m sure I could shmooze my way into finding at least one needle in that haystack of crazy.

“You had less than zero problem running of to leave me solo in that cave, so what’s the sudden concern now?” I should have stayed outside, at least that patch of sweltering wasn’t on its way to becoming the worst hotbox ever.

“I didn’t run off, you refused to follow.”

“With good reason.”

“We wouldn’t even have that lead if I had stayed back and left like you wanted.”

“Which you got by running off. My point stands.”

“Does it? Have you forgotten someone while you were getting all wrapped up in trying to stick it to me?”

Drew.

My teeth clench and my patience snaps. Fuck her, fuck Greg, and fuck this whole place.

Except I can’t say it. Not because I don’t want to, not because I still have an iota of patience in me. But because the words physically won’t leave, sticking in my soft palate once more. Nor will my feet direct me towards the door or beyond.

“That’s what I thought.” She chuffs, mistaking my silence for compliance. “I’m not just being a jerk, Tasha. It’s dangerous.”

It is, I’ve seen that for myself.

“I can’t pull you out of the nightmare every time you insist on running headlong into it.”

This time she sounds more resigned than upset, and this time she does take her cigarette and leave. I sink to the ground, back pressed to the washer while its twin rumbles on about its job next to me.

Fuck, but if it’s not one thing it’s six more.

And she’s not even wrong about the woods- I very much met something far more dangerous than those little tree walkers. There has to be a way to get out of this compulsion.

I don’t figure out what it is by the time my clothes are dried, nor by the time we’ve piled back into the car. This time the music is blaring loud enough to rattle something in the vehicle, and I learn that the passenger window crank is for show.

Cassy’s staring straight ahead in perfect silence, doing a marvelous job of pretending I’m some manner of statue. My failed cranking earns a glance, but not so much as a sound. I’m certain if she wasn’t preoccupied with the pedals, I’d have one more pair of taps to try my patience.

Night has descended by the time we roll our way back up the road, past the sign that I swear seems further off its single hinge than it had been two nights ago. Then again, it’s been a day and I’m likely painting everything in a sinister, spooky light as a result.

I’m forced to wait for her, as she’s got the key to the door. She, however, has no interest in going anywhere near it, instead walking around the back. My heart stutters - the can.

“Are we going in? I thought outside was dangerous?” I follow her, because what choice do I have.

Don’t act cagey, it’s a dead giveaway.

She just looks at me.

“Hello?”

“You’re not listening, what’s the point of talking?”

Shit. I’d kinda forgotten about this part.

“If you mean I’m not going to blindly do what you say because you say it, that’s not news, sugar.”

She snorts.

“No, it’s not. The difference is you’re going to get us both killed - and Eve as a result.”

“Excuse me, half cocked and underprepared?”

“Who went diving in the woods alone?”

“One. Flashlight. And no patience.”

“For the love of god, we’ve beaten that horse to death. Let it go. I should have left you with that thing.”

“And I should have left you in that hole.”

The silence that settles isn’t the uncomfortable pause, but a charged void of sound that dares either of us make the next move.

“Seems the handle was telling the truth.”

“Oh my fucking god.” I press the heels of my hands to my eyes until I see stars. “This whole thing would have been easier if I did want you dead. So how about you stop relying on your mood ring to decide what the fuck I’m about.“

“Then how do you feel-“

“Bitch, I don’t know!” It echoes through the valley. “I don’t fucking know, okay? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to stay!”

That snaps my jaw shut - where the hell did that even come from?

“Fuck.” She rips a hand through her hair.

“What does that have to do with the-“

“You don’t listen, you never fucking listen.” She blows out a breath. “You just keep going. I was fucking worried about you in those woods. I’m worried about you every fucking time, but oh fucking well I guess.”

“It’s sorta late to worry about my safety all of a sudden, Cass.”

“It’s not sudden.“

“But it is pointless in our current situation.”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t go alone cuz I don’t want to die. So if I ask you not to go alone - maybe it’s because I don’t want you to die.”

My lips press together.

“We’ve split up twice-“

“And look what keeps happening? You really think you’re gonna keep getting off this easy? You have no idea how lucky you are - that little stroll during your laundry run could have gone so, so fucking bad.”

The laughter bubbles, hysteria threatening to break free. But something between my chest and my throat keeps the sound at bay.

Easy?

Hah.

“And what does all of that have to do with me staying?” I rake my hand through my hair, fingers catching on a network of curls that interlock and tug at the scalp. “I’m leaving when this is done. I’ve already told you that.”

I focus on the thrum through the abused skin, rather than the way her voice has been catching at odd intervals. I’m honestly just glad I can’t see if she’s tearing up.

I don’t imagine that last line helped.

“Why? Am I that bad?”

Yep, she’s crying.

Fuck me.

“You’re not.” This much is familiar, we’ve travelled this much of the road before.

Except I hadn’t up and left the last time.

“Then why?”

“We just don’t work. You can’t leave and I can’t be trapped here.” I shake my head. “This isn’t my home.”

“You don’t have a home.” She sniffs.

My chest caves inward, not that I’ll show it.

“I’d argue that all you have is a prison.” I shake my head.

“It wasn’t one while you were here.”

“Maybe not for you.”

More silence.

“I warned you I was no good at domestic, sugar.” And this time, it really does carve at something in my chest to say it. “Stray, remember?”

She scoffs.

She’s called me as much jokingly several times in our four year dumpster fire.

“You managed okay….” Her voice shakes.

“Did I? Sweetheart, I don’t remember those last three years.” It’s softer than I want it to be. “Not really. I remember bits, and moments in time. But most of it…” I shake my head. “I think we both know I did not, in fact, manage okay.”

“So…it’s just this.”

Yeah.

This part is familiar too.

“Yeah. Just this”

Why am I choking up on this shit? I didn’t miss anything here- it’s the same miserable argument. But I know the shake in her shoulder, feel the splinter in my soul. All I seem to do is make her cry.

I want to tug her into a hug. Comb through her hair - it’s always so much softer than mine.

I’d just make things worse, though.

So I shove my hands into my pockets before I do something stupid.

“You’ve always been terrible at this shit.” She sniffles. “How do you just stand there?”

“Is there anything I could honestly say to make it better?”

She draws a sniff.

“Can I have the day?” It’s such a small sound I almost miss it.

My stomach lodges between my heart and throat.

“Do you really think that’s going to help?”

“No.” She shuffles past me and bends, and my heart skips when she comes up with my discarded empty. “But I don’t think this did either. Did it?”

I back up, adrenaline already streaming steady towards a defense. But she holds up a hand and shakes her head.

“I’m not judging you, Tasha. I don’t know that we aren’t going to die down there tomorrow, okay? Can we just…put away the long term. Just for a bit?”

It’s not a good idea.

It’s very much not a good idea.

The near full moon overhead casting her in a platinum glow isn’t helping, though. Neither is the bone deep understanding that she’s absolutely on the money.

“Let’s go in, get something to eat. And we can see how the energy evens out - go from there?”

She laughs, or at least parrots the sound as she starts back towards the front of the cabin.

“Do you have to wing everything?”

I fall into step with her.

“In my experience, few plans go to…well, plan. Got learn to roll with what you’re given, ya know.”

She pauses in front of the door, looking at me rather than fishing for the key.

“Did you just Hakuna Matata me?”

“At least I didn’t try to toss you off a cliff.”

“Oh my god. It’s barely a tumble, you would have been fine.” She turns back and lets us in, while I check back on the ledge in question.

The trees above it are empty.

“Coming?”

When I turn back, Cassy’s half-way to the kitchen and glancing back. She raises the empty she’s about to toss.

“We’ve got most of the case left. I’ll make dinner.”

“Food and booze - you always did cheat to get your way.”

She flashes a grin and I ignore the twist in my chest as I step through the door and shut it behind me.

One night.

How badly can it go?

Prompt #1204

"What do you want?"

"I want you to stay."

[halfmoonaria]

enough for now

pairing: jenna ortega & female reader

summary: sometimes love looks like holding someone when they can't hold themselves.

word count: 7.2k

Jenna knew something was wrong when your texts stopped sounding like you.

You still responded, at first. Not consistently, and not with the same energy, but enough that she could almost pretend things were normal.

The messages were short. Abrupt. Some of them didn't answer the question she'd asked. Others didn't say much at all.

Usually, you rambled. You'd send whole paragraphs about things she didn't even fully understand—TV shows you were rewatching, snacks you suddenly hated, how the sun was doing this weird stripe-thing on your bedroom wall that made you think about childhood for some reason. You texted the way you spoke—easily, often, without overthinking it.

You used to text her in waves—message after message, thought after thought, like everything in your head spilled out the second you felt it.

Even when you were tired, even when the day had drained you, you still texted like you were there.

Now, your responses came hours later. Sometimes a full day. And when they did, they were clipped. Blunt in a way that didn't feel intentional—like you weren't trying to push her away, but you didn't have the energy to bring her closer, either.

She'd send something light atleast every day, hoping to spark a little warmth.

How's your day been?

Was the most common one.

Which most times received a reply hours later. You'd answer with just:

fine

Or nothing.

At first, she convinced herself you were just overwhelmed. Maybe something had come up with work, or school. Maybe you were sick. Maybe your phone was just dying all the time. There were always reasons—normal ones.

But it didn't sit right.

She started noticing how rarely you initiated a conversation. How some of her messages went unread for hours. How you didn't ask about her day anymore. How sometimes, when she said something funny or sweet, you'd reply with a single emoji, or not at all.

You used to ask things. Little things.

What she had for lunch. Whether her meeting ran long. If she ever figured out what that weird sound was in her bathroom sink. You used to send links to articles she'd never open, videos that made no sense without context, blurry pictures of your dinner just so you could complain about how bland it turned out.

And now it was like... none of that.

She started checking your activity—saw you were online, sometimes. Not posting, but there. Typing, maybe. Staring at the screen. She wondered if you opened her messages and then just didn't know what to say. If maybe you meant to answer and just couldn't.

That was the part that scared her most—not the silence, but the effort in it. Like responding had turned into something heavy. Like it wasn't just that you didn't want to talk. It was that you couldn't.

And still, she didn't push. She told herself you'd come back around. That maybe tomorrow would be different.

But tomorrow came. And so did the next day.

And you still weren't there.

She knew what it was.

In reality, she'd known the entire time. Not from the first unread message or the first too-short reply, but long before that. There had been a shift. Something subtle, quiet, hard to name. But she'd felt it.

She just didn't want to admit it.

You'd been okay. More than okay, even. For months, you'd been steady. Laughing more. Eating better. Leaving the house, making plans, sticking to them. She remembered thinking, Maybe this is it. Maybe it's passed.

She let herself believe you were better. That it was behind you.

And now, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd let her guard down too quickly. If she'd let herself get too comfortable with your good days. If maybe, in some way, she'd looked away right when you needed her to look closer.

There was guilt—of course there was guilt. The kind that settled low in her stomach and stayed there.

She'd been gone for weeks now. Not gone-gone, just busy. Caught up in press, in work, in the blur of early call times and late-night flights. She hadn't had much time to talk. Some days, all she managed was a good morning text and a voice note she'd record half-asleep from hotel rooms. She figured you understood. You always did.

But now she looked back and realized how long it had been since you sent anything unprompted. Since your voice sounded light. Since you said her name.

And part of her wanted to blame herself. Like maybe her absence was the reason you'd started to slip again. Like maybe she should've made more time. Called more. Asked better questions.

But she also remembered what your therapist had told them both, once—on a rare day you agreed to let her sit in.

That sometimes it didn't have to be triggered by anything. That sometimes it just... returned. Quietly. Without warning. Even when things were going well. Even when everything on the outside looked fine.

That it didn't mean you weren't trying.

Jenna tried to hold onto that. To remind herself this wasn't something she could've prevented just by being closer. But it didn't make the weight in her chest go away.

Because no matter how many times she'd heard it, part of her still felt like she'd missed it—like she'd left you alone with something you didn't know how to carry on your own.

Which was why, when she finally got a few days off from it all, she didn't hesitate.

You hadn't asked her to come. She hadn't asked if you wanted her to. Neither of you had really said anything at all.

But that morning, she sent a simple message.

im coming over in a few

No question mark. No filler. Just a fact.

And after a long pause—maybe ten minutes, maybe fifteen—you replied with a single red heart.

It didn't say much, but it also didn't say no.

That was enough.

She grabbed her keys, pulled a sweatshirt over her head, and left the apartment without bothering to do anything to her face. She didn't need to. You wouldn't care.

The drive over wasn't long—fifteen minutes, give or take—but it felt stretched, quieter than usual. No music. No podcast. Just the soft hum of tires on pavement and the sound of her own thoughts moving faster than the car.

She tried to imagine what your place would look like.

Tried to picture what kind of state you were in—if you'd showered, eaten, if you'd even gotten out of bed at all. She told herself not to assume the worst, but she couldn't help the way her mind filled in the gaps. Curtains drawn. Lights off. Something uneaten on the nightstand. Your phone face-down somewhere across the room.

She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

A few months ago, she would've called first. Asked if you wanted company. Given you time to clean up or pretend things were fine. But now, it felt like pretending wasn't helping either of you. And she didn't want to be polite about this. Not now.

Not when she knew better.

So she drove. Street after street, passing neighborhoods she barely looked at. The sky was already starting to dim, that kind of muted gray-blue that felt like the day was slipping away before you had the chance to use it.

And she couldn't stop thinking about how many days you'd probably let pass like that—quietly, painfully—without telling anyone.

Without telling her.

By the time she parked, she still didn't know what she was going to say. She just knew she had to be there. Even if all she did was sit on the floor by your bed and stay quiet.

Even if you didn't say anything at all.

She stepped out of the car and pulled her hood up, mostly out of habit. The air had that weird in-between chill—too cold for just a sweatshirt, not cold enough to call it winter. She looked up toward your window automatically, the way she always did when she came over.

It was dark.

Not just dim. Not just drawn curtains with a sliver of light sneaking through. Dark.

She held her breath without meaning to. Exhaled slow. And then she kept walking.

The entrance to your building buzzed faintly as she pushed the door open, nodding once at a neighbor she didn't know by name. She pressed the button for the elevator with her sleeve-covered hand and waited in silence, staring down at the chipped tile floor like it might give her answers.

The ride up felt longer than usual. Every floor that passed made her stomach feel heavier.

She didn't ring the bell when she got to your door. She didn't need to.

You'd given her a key months ago—quietly, almost nervously—right after one of your better stretches. You'd said something like, "Just in case," and she'd nodded, pretending not to overthink it.

She slipped it into the lock now, turned it gently, and pushed the door open.

Inside, it was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful. The kind that sat still and heavy.

She didn't turn on the lights right away.

The living room was mostly shadows, but she could make out the shape of your couch, a blanket balled up at one end. A mug on the coffee table, half-full, probably cold by now. The TV remote was on the floor, like it had slipped out of your hand and never been picked back up. A hoodie—hers—hung over the armrest, untouched since the last time she was here.

Most things hadn't moved.

The book you were halfway through the last time she saw you was still open on the arm of the couch, pages slightly curled. One of your shoes sat by the door. The other was missing, probably somewhere you'd forgotten about mid-step. An empty glass near the sink. A stack of unopened mail, a takeout bag crumpled and left on the counter.

It looked exactly like it had the last time she was here. Like time had pressed pause and never quite resumed.

And she knew why.

You hadn't been up for it. You hadn't had the energy to shift things around, to care whether mugs were in the sink or blankets were folded or whether your place looked lived-in or just stalled.

She finally reached for the light switch, but only flicked on the small lamp near the hallway. It cast a soft, warm glow over the edge of the apartment—not enough to brighten everything. Just enough to see her way forward.

She didn't call out your name yet.

She didn't need to.

You were here. She could feel it. Somewhere inside this too-quiet apartment that still smelled faintly like your perfume and something slightly stale, like air that hadn't moved in days.

She took off her shoes, left them by the door next to yours, and started walking toward your room.

Slowly. Quietly. Like she didn't want to startle you. Like she didn't want to break the air.

The hallway felt longer than usual. Her steps were light, almost uncertain, even though she knew the path by heart. She'd walked this exact stretch of floor so many times—barefoot, laughing, half-asleep, half-dressed—usually following the sound of your voice calling her in.

You always called it our room.

Not my room, not the bedroom. "Our room," even before she ever spent a night there. Even when she still kept most of her clothes in her own apartment. You said it casually, like it was obvious. And after a while, it started to feel that way to her, too.

But now, everything about it felt still.

As she neared the door, she hesitated just outside it. Her hand rested lightly against the frame. The hallway light barely reached the edges of the room, and the rest was black—soft and heavy like the sky before a storm.

She spoke your name. Quiet. Almost careful.

She didn't expect an answer. She just needed the sound of it to be there, in case it helped.

You didn't respond.

She stepped inside.

The fan on the ceiling was spinning slowly, humming in lazy circles above the bed. The curtains were still drawn tight, so tightly that the room had that strange, directionless darkness—no glow from outside, no shape of the hour, no sign of how long it had been like this.

And there you were.

Curled slightly on your side, facing the wall, your back to her. You were wearing a hoodie—one she recognized, one you always seemed to reach for when everything got too loud. The covers were tangled around your legs, pulled only to your waist like maybe you'd gotten too hot, or just didn't bother pulling them higher.

Your arm was half-under your pillow, the other one slack across the mattress, your fingers twitching faintly like you'd just stirred and then stilled again.

The bed was messy, but not in a careless way. More like you'd never properly remade it after the last time you left it—like you'd laid back down one day and just never really gotten up again.

There was a glass of water on the nightstand. Unfinished. Condensation dried at the base. Her scrunchie sat beside it. You must've found it on the floor and placed it there without thinking.

The air was a little stuffy, but not unbearable. Just... unwashed. The scent of your detergent still hung faintly on the sheets. The room smelled like stillness. Like nothing had changed for days.

Jenna stood there for a moment, completely still.

Her chest tightened—not in panic, but in that deep, aching way where it felt like something inside her was sinking. You weren't crying. You weren't moving. You weren't doing anything wrong. But everything about the scene in front of her made her want to reach for you and pull you back into the world.

You looked so small. So tired. Like someone who'd been holding something heavy for too long and finally stopped pretending it didn't hurt.

And Jenna couldn't help the way her throat tightened. The guilt pressed deeper, sharper. She hadn't seen it sooner. She hadn't come sooner.

But she was here now.

And so she did the only thing that felt right—she stepped closer.

Her voice came first, soft and quiet, just above a whisper.

"Hi, baby."

The words floated out gently, barely meant to be heard, but enough to settle into the space between you.

You didn't move. Not fully. But she saw the faintest shift in your shoulder, like your body had registered her voice before your mind had caught up. It wasn't surprise. It wasn't relief. It was just awareness. Like part of you had already known she'd come, even if the rest of you didn't know what to do with that.

She walked closer.

Her hand brushed lightly against the side of the mattress as she rounded it, the sound of her jeans against the bedding quiet but present, familiar. You'd shifted just off-center—laying somewhere between the middle and her usual side—and without a second thought, Jenna moved around to where she always slept.

The room was dim enough that she couldn't see everything clearly, but she didn't need to. She felt her way through the space like she'd done a hundred times before—carefully, quietly, without hesitation.

She lowered herself onto the bed slowly, knees sinking into the mattress, her body folding in behind yours with that same muscle memory she hadn't let herself use in weeks.

And she fit. Perfectly.

You'd left just enough space for her without meaning to.

The sheets were warm, faintly rumpled beneath her, and she adjusted herself just enough to slide an arm around your waist, her hand resting lightly over your stomach. She pressed in close, chest to your back, legs curling slightly to match yours. Her nose brushed the back of your neck—close enough to feel your warmth, close enough to smell your skin.

You still smelled like you.

That faint trace of your shampoo, now dulled by days without washing. Fabric softener. Sweat. Skin. That particular scent of being lived-in, not dirty, just tired. She breathed it in quietly and let her eyes close for a second.

You didn't react. You didn't lean back into her, didn't reach for her hand or shift to make room. But you didn't pull away either. You stayed exactly as you were—quiet, still, sunken. Not tense, not soft. Just... depleted.

Like whatever weight had been pressing down on you had worn your body into this shape, and there was nothing left to hold up or let go of.

Jenna felt it in your shoulders, in the way they didn't drop or flinch. In the steady rhythm of your breathing. You weren't startled. You weren't soothed. You were just there.

And so was she.

She kept her arm around you, fingers resting gently in the fabric of your hoodie. Not gripping. Just touching. Like a tether. Like she didn't expect you to reach back, but needed you to know you weren't alone.

She didn't say anything else. There was nothing she needed to say.

She was here.

And she wasn't going anywhere.

But the quiet started pressing in.

It always did, after a few minutes—once the stillness settled and the adrenaline of getting there faded into something heavier. Once her body stopped moving and her mind started filling in all the empty spaces.

She didn't know how long it had been like this.

A few days, maybe. A week. Longer?

You hadn't said. And the thing was, she hadn't really asked—not in the way she should've. She'd told herself you were just tired. That your silence wasn't that bad. That you probably just didn't want to text. That it was nothing. That you were okay. That you had to be okay.

Because you'd been okay for months. Happy, even. Not cured, not done, just... better.

You'd laughed again. You'd made plans. You'd sent her videos of your breakfast or texts about the weird dream you had or pictures of the stupid hoodie she left at your place that you wore anyway because it smelled like her.

You'd been okay.

And now this.

Now the room smelled like stillness. Like you hadn't opened a window in days. The air was warm but heavy. The lamp on your nightstand was still slightly crooked the way she remembered, your water bottle untouched, your hoodie—hers, actually—bunched under your arm like you'd hugged it at some point and forgot to let go.

She didn't know how long it had been like this.

But she knew this wasn't new.

She knew what it looked like when the color started fading from you. When everything stopped moving. When you started sinking and didn't say a word about it because even you didn't notice at first. Until it was too late.

Her fingers tightened slightly on your hoodie.

She wondered what you'd been thinking in all that quiet. In the days when she wasn't there. In the nights when she didn't call, because she was on set, or because she'd fallen asleep, or because she thought you'd tell her if something was wrong.

But you hadn't.

Were they back?

Those thoughts?

The ones that used to scare her. The ones you used to tiptoe around, used to call "the noise." The ones that made you curl up and disappear into yourself until she had to say your name two or three times just to get you to blink.

The idea that they might be back—that they might've crept in while she was gone, while she was smiling on red carpets and learning her lines and pretending everything was fine—made her bury her face in your neck.

Like she had to feel your pulse against her lips just to make sure you were still here.

She didn't cry.

She just breathed.

And then, quietly—so quietly it barely passed through her lips—she asked:

"What are you thinking about?"

Her voice cracked just slightly at the end. Not enough to sound broken. Just careful.

She felt you stiffen, not from surprise, but like you'd been pulled up from somewhere far away. Not fully back. Not yet. But present enough that your breath hitched a little.

You didn't answer.

But she heard the sound—just the smallest one. A breath through your nose, shaky, wet. A sniffle you didn't try to hide.

And it said enough.

She didn't push. She didn't ask again. Her fingers just curled tighter around your hoodie. Her nose brushed your skin. And she stayed.

The quiet stretched again, but this time it felt heavier. Not like before—not distant. Just waiting.

Jenna didn't move at first. She only breathed. Only kept her face tucked into your neck, her arms loose around your waist like she didn't want to press too hard. Like even pressure might be too much for you right now.

But her voice came, eventually. Soft. Close. Barely louder than a breath.

"Talk to me."

She didn't say it like a demand. She said it like a hope.

Because she wanted you to. She needed to hear your voice. Not because she didn't believe what she was seeing—she did—but because hearing you meant you were still here. Still you. Even if just a piece.

You didn't speak at first. You didn't even shift. And she almost said your name again—almost whispered baby, the way she always did when she wanted to gently bring you back—but then.

"I don't know..."

Barely a whisper. Small. Quiet. Sad.

It cracked right down the middle, like you didn't have the strength to say more. Like a child trying to make sense of something too big. Too invisible. Too inside.

Jenna's eyes burned, but she didn't cry. She just tightened her arm around you and waited.

Then, lower:

"It just...came out of nowhere."

You said it like it caught you off guard. Like you'd been standing in the sun one moment and then suddenly—gone. Like you didn't even know it had started until you were already deep inside it. And Jenna felt something in her chest twist in a way it hadn't in a long time.

She hated how familiar that sounded.

Without speaking, her left hand slid gently up from your stomach to your chest, then higher, until her fingers found your hair.

She didn't play with it, not really.

Just moved her hand slowly. Softly. Stroking near your scalp, her fingers weaving carefully through a few strands and letting them fall again. Over and over. It was barely a movement. But it was steady. It was there.

She pressed her forehead lightly against the back of your head. And for a long time, that was all she did.

No questions. No pressure.

Just a hand in your hair. A warmth behind you. And a voice, finally, in the dark.

"I know."

And then, quieter still.

"I'm sorry."

Jenna stayed like that for a while, hand in your hair, forehead resting gently against you, breathing in the quiet. She wasn't trying to fill it—wasn't trying to talk just to talk—but eventually, the questions came.

They rose up quietly. Hesitantly. Like she was afraid of breaking something fragile between you.

"For how long?" she whispered.

You didn't answer, not right away. Your body shifted just slightly beneath her arm, the kind of small movement that didn't even register unless you were this close. Then you shrugged—barely. A tired, half-hearted lift of your shoulders, like even that felt too heavy. But she understood. Of course she did.

Because she'd seen that shrug before.

Because she knew exactly what you meant.

That time didn't really exist in that state. Days blurred together. Melted. Everything became soft around the edges. You could blink and it would be Tuesday again. Or still. You'd wake up and not know if it was morning or night. If you'd eaten or just thought about it. If the clothes on your body were from yesterday or the day before or some strange in-between you hadn't kept track of.

Jenna's lips parted a little. She wanted to say something, but nothing felt right yet. So she just breathed again, tucked her face into your shoulder, her thumb still brushing the side of your head with that same slow rhythm.

Then, after a pause, softer than before:

"Why didn't you tell me?"

It wasn't accusatory. Not even close. It was gentle. Sad. The kind of question you ask even when you already know the answer, just because part of you hopes you're wrong.

You let out a breath. It caught a little, uneven. And for a second, Jenna didn't think you were going to say anything. But then, voice quiet, worn down:

"I didn't want to ruin anything."

It made her heart drop.

"I didn't want you to worry," you added, even quieter. "You were working. You were excited. I didn't want to... I don't know. Pull you out of that."

Jenna swallowed, eyes stinging again. Her hand stilled in your hair for a moment, then started again, slower this time. Softer.

You weren't trying to be brave. You weren't trying to be strong. You were just trying to stay invisible long enough that she didn't have to see this part of you. Like if you could keep it hidden, it wouldn't matter as much. Wouldn't be real.

But it was. And she was here now.

And she saw you. Every part of you.

Even this.

Especially this.

Jenna didn't speak for a little while. She just stayed close, her arm still draped lightly over your waist, her hand still brushing softly through your hair like she was trying to settle your thoughts by calming your body first.

But then, finally—softly, close to your ear, like a thought spoken aloud:

"Did you eat today?"

There was a pause. Just long enough to give yourself a chance to lie.

You wanted to say yes. She could feel it—the way your body tensed for a second like you were bracing for the effort of pretending. And then you did try. You even got the word out, barely.

"Yeah."

It was small. Weak. Tucked between breaths like maybe she wouldn't hear it if you said it gently enough.

But she did.

And she knew.

She couldn't see your face, couldn't read your expression in the dark, but it didn't matter. She heard it. Felt it. Every part of you gave it away.

She waited a beat, just to give you space. Then:

"When?"

You hesitated again. Then you shifted under her arm—just a little—and said, "I think... yesterday?"

Her heart clenched. Quietly. Heavily.

You swallowed. "I had, like... some crackers. I think. And a juice."

Crackers and juice. That's what you'd had. Maybe. You sounded unsure even about that. Like the memory was faint. Like it belonged to someone else.

Jenna pressed her face a little deeper into your neck, breathing in slowly, grounding herself so she wouldn't let the worry take over her face. So you wouldn't feel her panic. So you wouldn't pull away.

A second passed. Then her voice again—gentle, careful:

"Do you want me to make you something?"

You were quiet.

She waited, patient.

"I'm not hungry."

Your voice was flat. Not defensive, not dismissive. Just empty.

Jenna exhaled slowly through her nose, her arm tightening slightly around your waist.

"You have to eat something."

She didn't say it like a scolding. It wasn't a demand. Just soft truth, spoken like a fact she didn't expect you to argue with.

Her eyes adjusted more to the dark now. She could just barely make out the curve of your shoulder beneath the hoodie, the way your fingers were curled up near your chest. Still. Quiet.

She started thinking.

Something easy. Something warm. Something familiar. She ran through your kitchen in her head, mentally checked what she'd seen on the way in.

"I could make grilled cheese," she said after a moment, barely above a whisper. "With that soup you like. The tomato one. If it's still in your cabinet."

You didn't say anything.

But you didn't say no, either.

Jenna pressed a kiss to the side of your head, barely more than a brush of her lips against your hair, and then she shifted carefully out of the bed. You felt the mattress lift as her weight left it, the cold rush of air where her body had just been.

She didn't say anything else—just moved quietly through the apartment, the way she always did when she didn't want to disturb you. You heard the fridge open. The soft thud of a cabinet closing. A drawer sliding out, then in. The subtle click of the stove turning on.

She knew where everything was.

It didn't take long. The familiar smell of butter and cheese hit the room first, followed by something warmer, tomato-sweet. You hadn't realized how quiet the apartment had been until the faint hum of the microwave started.

When she came back in, her footsteps were soft again. The overhead light stayed off, but she'd turned on the little lamp in the hallway just enough to see.

"Sit up," she said gently, standing by the bed with the plate and bowl balanced in her hands.

You blinked a few times, slow, like it took effort to rejoin the moment—but then you did. You sat up. The hoodie slumped on your frame, and your eyes didn't quite meet hers, but you moved. That was enough.

Jenna smiled, trying to play it casual, even though her chest swelled with quiet relief. She placed the food down on the nightstand, reached for the tray she'd brought in, and set it carefully over your lap.

"I didn't burn it," she said, like a joke. "Somehow."

You gave her the smallest tug of a smile. Barely there. But real.

You didn't eat much. A few bites of the grilled cheese, a couple spoonfuls of soup. But Jenna acted like that was all she'd hoped for.

While you ate, she talked.

Not about you. Not about this.

Just... things.

About how she nearly tripped over a light stand last week during a shoot. How the coffee on set tasted like dishwater. About a movie she'd watched on the plane—terrible, but that you might love it.

She kept her voice light. Calm. Not pushing. Just filling the space with sound so you wouldn't feel watched. So it wouldn't feel like this was something to be ashamed of.

She knew it wasn't a big meal.

But you were eating.

And that meant everything.

Jenna sat beside you again once you'd taken a few more bites. Close, but not crowding. Her leg folded under her on the bed, one hand resting on the mattress between you like she wanted to reach for you but didn't want to rush it.

You didn't finish all of it. The sandwich was half-eaten, the soup mostly cooled now. But you'd eaten. More than she expected. More than you probably had in days.

When you set the tray aside, Jenna took it without a word and placed it back on the nightstand. Her fingers brushed yours for a second—warm, careful—and then she leaned back against the headboard with a quiet sigh, her body angled toward you.

She didn't let the silence settle this time.

"You know they brought bagels to set one morning," she started, like she was picking up from something earlier. "Big boxes of them. Like, fifty. And not one of them was toasted. Just... dry bread with cream cheese."

You let out the smallest breath through your nose. Almost a laugh, but not quite. She took it.

"I tried to ask for a toaster, and someone thought I was being dramatic. Like I was demanding caviar or something."

You pulled the covers higher up your legs. Not out of cold—just to do something. You didn't look at her, but your shoulder relaxed a bit where it leaned near hers.

She kept going. About the director who talked with his hands so much he'd knocked over two water bottles and one light stand in a single day. About the girl from costume who tried to guess people's zodiac signs for fun and got furious when she was wrong.

It wasn't exciting. It wasn't forced.

Just her voice. Just there.

You didn't say anything, but you listened.

And she could tell. In the way your eyes didn't glaze like earlier. In the way your fingers picked slightly at the edge of the blanket. In the way your breathing shifted—not lighter, not completely—but different.

She inched a little closer, folding her leg underneath herself again so she was angled toward you. The bedside lamp cast a low golden wash over the room, just enough to see the edge of your cheek, the slope of your jaw. You looked soft like this. Still so quiet, but soft.

She always thought you were pretty—especially like this. The kind of pretty that didn't try to be. Skin that didn't glow in the filtered Instagram way, but in the real way, warm and familiar. Your lashes were long even when you hated them. Your brows never grew the same on both sides, and it drove you crazy, but she liked that. Liked the unevenness. The human-ness of it.

You never liked the shape of your nose. You'd said that once, and it made her sad—because she did. It made you look a little stubborn and a little strong, and somehow still so soft. She'd memorized that nose. Every curve of it. It was yours.

Without thinking too much about it, she brought a hand to your face and gently tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. Her fingers lingered for a second against your temple, brushing a few strands off your forehead. The softness of your hair. The warmth of your skin.

"Do you want me to wash your hair?" she asked, quiet as anything. Like an offer, not a suggestion.

Your eyes shifted downward, avoiding hers, and your mouth parted like you were going to say something—but it took a few seconds for the words to come. When they did, your voice was small. Careful.

"It's okay. You don't have to."

You didn't mean it as a rejection. She knew that. It sounded more like a reflex than anything else, like you'd gotten too used to not asking for help. Too used to doing things alone.

Her heart tugged.

"I want to," she said softly. Her hand was still in your hair, still brushing through it slow and steady. "If you'll let me."

You didn't answer.

Not out loud, anyway.

Your throat felt thick, eyes a little hot, and you didn't know why. Or—you did, but you couldn't explain it. You couldn't explain how shame curled up under your ribs and sat there heavy, stupid, wordless.

You couldn't explain how your mind had started spinning the second she offered to help, whispering things like you're pathetic, this is too much, she's going to get tired of this. The kinds of thoughts that didn't even sound like your own voice, but were always waiting in moments like this—when you felt slow and hollow and vaguely embarrassed just to be alive.

You didn't mean to ignore her. You just didn't know how to say yes.

But Jenna didn't wait for it. She'd already seen it in your eyes—seen the way you wanted to nod but didn't, the way you stayed still like a pet that didn't know if it was allowed to move.

She got up slowly from the bed, gave your shoulder a light press, and said, "Come on," her voice warm like the light that hadn't touched your room in days.

Then she held out her hand.

Not expectant. Not dramatic.

Just there. Just for you.

And you reached for it.

Your fingers slid into hers—dry, your knuckles a little tight from how long it had been since you properly moisturized or even noticed your hands at all. But she didn't mind. Her thumb rubbed softly over the back of your hand as she helped you up.

She ran the water while you sat down on the edge of the tub, arms wrapped around yourself in the hoodie you hadn't changed out of in maybe three days. You tried not to think about how you must've smelled, how greasy your scalp probably was, how the sleeves were crusted at the ends. But when you looked up, Jenna was rolling them up for you—gentle, unrushed, like it was nothing.

You sat in the bathtub, legs tucked in, hoodie peeled off and tossed in the hallway. The warmth of the water rising around your shins made your throat close again. It always did. That first feeling of being cleanable. Of being touched.

Jenna knelt beside you on the tiles, one hand resting steady on your back as she used the other to scoop water over your hair. She was quiet. So were you. Not in a tense way—just in that way where sound didn't matter as much as being careful.

She used your shampoo. The one she liked because it smelled like the candle she always burned in her apartment. Her fingers moved in small circles on your scalp, gently scratching, not too hard, but firm enough to make your shoulders drop for the first time in what felt like hours. Maybe days. The kind of touch that was meant for more than just cleaning.

Somewhere between rinsing and conditioning, she said, "Tilt your head back for me" and you did.

You closed your eyes.

Water ran down your cheeks like tears you didn't have the energy to cry.

She brushed the hair back from your face again, using both hands this time. Tucked it behind your ears. Cupped your jaw with wet palms for just a second before letting go.

There was something unspeakably kind about the way she dried you, too. Careful with the towel, slow when she helped you into a clean shirt. She didn't flinch when she touched your arm and felt how cold it still was, how tense your body stayed even now. She just helped you into it like you were someone worth caring for.

And you let her.

You didn't say much. But when she pulled your sleeve over your wrist, you looked at her, just for a second.

You put on clean clothes.

The shirt Jenna had handed you was soft, oversized, smelled faintly of her laundry detergent—warm, lavender-like. You brushed your hair too. She did most of it, careful to hold it near the roots when pulling through the knots so it wouldn't tug too much at your scalp. You didn't talk. Not because you didn't want to, but because it felt like too much. And somehow, Jenna already understood that.

The apartment was quiet except for the sound of her picking a movie. She didn't ask what you wanted to watch. She just chose something familiar. Something you'd both seen before. The kind of movie that didn't ask anything from you—no energy, no focus. Just something to fill the space without making it feel too full.

You laid in bed together, blankets tucked around your legs, her body curled close beside yours. She watched the screen, eyes tracking every scene, but not really for the story. More for you.

Because you weren't watching.

Your eyes were open, but distant. Barely blinking. Glazed over in that particular kind of way that made Jenna's chest ache. Not just because she was worried, but because she knew that look too well.

Your eyes were red around the edges, waterline stained, like you'd cried recently but hadn't even realized. Your skin was pale and soft in the glow of the screen, the kind of pale that didn't come from winter or bad lighting, but from spending too much time indoors. The color had slipped out of you quietly, the way everything else had. Bit by bit.

And Jenna could see it.

She didn't say anything about it. She just reached over and rested her hand against your arm, thumb brushing softly back and forth, like a quiet anchor. You didn't look at her, didn't move, but she felt the way your body leaned into it slightly. Just enough.

She knew she couldn't pull the thoughts from your head. Couldn't chase away the heaviness that sat behind your ribs, the fog that blurred out time, the ache that made everything feel flat and unreal. She knew depression wasn't something you could solve for someone. You couldn't love it out of them. You couldn't fix it with soft words or hand-washed hair or warm food. But you could stay.

You could sit beside them through the numbness.

You could hold their hand when they forgot how to ask for help.

You could help them brush their hair when their arms were too heavy.

You could watch them fade and still choose to stay.

And that's what Jenna did.

Because loving someone with depression meant showing up even when they didn't answer the door. It meant learning their silences, knowing when not to ask questions, when to nudge and when to wait. It meant reading between the lines of a text, the stillness of their body, the flicker of their eyes—and knowing this is enough for now.

She didn't need you to smile. Didn't need you to talk. She just needed you here.

And you were.

That was the thing.

No matter how quiet or far away you felt inside your own skin, you were still here. In clean clothes. Hair combed. Laying beside her, breathing in time with the sound of the movie you weren't watching.

And she was here, too.

So even if everything else still felt broken and heavy and too hard to carry—this part didn't.

As long as she was beside you, you'd find your way through. Maybe not all at once. Maybe not soon.

But she'd be there. Every step. Every silence. Every small beginning.

[imhappierthanever]

A|n: it’s probably been done in some way before.but it was on my mind so here it is🤭 I wanted to write fluff but smut won instead.

“Go ahead baby. Milk me.” Billie grunted into your ear lowly. You couldn’t make too much noise. Not this time as the two of you were at a sleepover. You, and a bunch of your friends all laid out on the floor. Sleeping bags, and blankets scattered everywhere.

You and Billie laid off to the side, stealing kisses from each other all night as the marathon of movies played. Billie’s hands traveled up and down your body, always making you hers until neither of you could take it anymore.

You knew it was risky, fucking in front of your friends as they slept. But none of that mattered as Billie pulled your body closer to hers, and pushed your panties to the side, entering you immediately.

Before you could scream, Billie covered your mouth, using her other hand to grip your boob, rolling your nipple between her fingers.

Her other free hand found its way to your clit, rubbing tight circles, feeling you shudder in her arms.

It was quick, as you both knew at any given second ..anyone could just wake up.

Her breath was hot on the back of your neck, as she pressed her body into your back, lifting your leg so she could go deeper, so she could feel you even more.

You were falling apart on her, feeling her move with a flawless speed, hitting every place you needed her to. Your hands gripped the blanket you were laying on, trying to hold back any moans, any screams or sounds at all as she fucked you.

You’re squeezing her, making it impossibly hard for her to not completely explode. But not before you.

Not before she pounded into you, making your body tremble against hers, quickly pulling you on top of her, completely forgetting where you had been (or just not caring)

She held your hips as you rode her, your hands lifting your night shirt, exposing your breasts. Billie of course, took notice, always enamoured.

The sight under you was enough to make you come undone. Billie’s dark hair spread out on the pillow, her ocean blue eyes fixed on yours, her perfect, full lips bitten, low grunts escaping her perfect throat. The way you coated her cock with your wetness. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Billie..” you murmured . “I’m so close.” “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me. Cum right now.” She commanded.

Her hands were gripping your hips so tightly, nails digging in leaving little crescent shapes as your mouth fell open, silence falling on your lips, finally tipping over the edge, and letting yourself go. She could almost hear your screams, high pitched and needy in her head, pushing her to her own release. Both of you within seconds of each other.

“There you go, mama. That’s it.” She said as your body collapsed onto of hers. Her hands gently brushed over your back, under your shirt as you both came down from your highs.

“I was so afraid we would get caught.” You breathed into her damp hair, kissing her cheek sweetly before climbing off her body, the emptiness already making you regret it.

“Yeah, but that’s half the fun.” Billie said winking, covering herself up.

You smacked her arm playfully, heading to the bathroom to go get cleaned up.

Before making it there, you ran into one of your friends who was obviously not sleeping. Your eyes went wide as you saw her leave the same place you were heading for.

“Hey!” you said nervously, your oversized shirt suddenly feeling down small as you tried to pull it down over your bare ass.

She weakly smiled, before giving you more of a look. A sort of telling one that said she knew everything that you had just done. You hung your head in defeat before speaking.

“How much… did you see or hear?” You asked feeling the embarrassment creep up, redness spreading to your cheeks.

“Enough to have to hide in here!” She said rolling her eyes.

“Get an actual room next time!”she said teasing you before walking away. Fuck the toilet. You went straight back to Billie and your pile of blankets, hiding in her arms,butting your face in her chest.

“What’s wrong, my sweet girl?” Billie asked squeezing you, instantly comforting you.

“Someone knows. We are never fucking in front of our friends again.”

“Well, maybe not for a while. We still-”

“Billie!” You said seriously, sitting up to look at her.

“Alright, princess. No more fucking in front of our friends. I’ll try to control myself next time.”

[makeyoumine69]

Imagine Patching Up Jason Todd

Sorry for the rough visuals—I'm still figuring out the aesthetic side of things. Just wanted to post more without overthinking it. Yeah, the Batfamily webtoon made me feel things.

It’s always the same sound that announces his return—the scrape of the fire escape, the quiet click of the window lock you always leave open for him, and the heavy, tired thud of his boots on the hardwood floor.

You don’t even need to turn around from where you’re reading on the couch. You just sigh, slide your bookmark into place, and say, "Bathroom. Now."

He grumbles—a low sound that’s half pain, half pure stubbornness. "I’m fine."

You finally look at him, and he is very much not fine. His helmet is tucked under one arm, his domino mask is gone, and there's a fresh, deep gash across his cheekbone. His leather jacket is torn at the shoulder, and you can see the dark stain of blood soaking through the tactical shirt beneath.

You just raise an eyebrow. That’s all it takes. With a defeated groan, he trudges to the bathroom and slumps onto the closed toilet lid, looking like a fallen titan.

The routine is familiar. You grab the heavy-duty first-aid kit from under the sink. The air fills with the sharp, clean scent of antiseptic.

Your hands are gentle as you peel away the shredded layers of his suit. He doesn’t flinch, just watches you with unnerving intensity. His eyes, a startling blue-green, track your every movement.

You start with the gash on his face, dabbing it clean with a cotton pad. He hisses through his teeth—the first sound of pain he’s let slip. "Sorry," you murmur, your faces only inches apart.

"Don’t be," he rasps, voice low and gravelly. "I’ve had worse."

You move on to the deeper cut on his shoulder—the one that’s going to need stitches. As you work, your fingers brush against the constellation of old scars that map his torso. Each one tells a story he’ll never fully share.

The silence in the small room grows heavy, charged with something more than pain and antiseptic. It’s the way he’s looking at you—not like you’re a medic, but like you’re the only anchor in his storm-tossed life.

You’re focused on threading the needle when his hand—large and calloused—covers yours, stilling your movements. "Stop."

You look up, confused. "Jason, this needs closing."

"I know," he says, his gaze dropping to your lips. "Just… stop for a second."

And then he leans in. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s desperate, hungry, raw. It tastes of him—of metal, sweat, and the faint tang of blood you’d just cleaned from his lip. It’s a kiss that says everything he can’t put into words—gratitude, pain, bone-deep loneliness, and a startling, fierce desire for you.

Your fingers, which had been holding the needle, tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer. The first-aid kit is forgotten.

He groans your name against your mouth, a sound of pure, unfiltered need. He picks you up with an ease that belies his injuries and sets you on the bathroom counter, knocking over bottles of soap and shampoo. Neither of you cares.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, tangling in your hair. He’s mapping your body with the same intensity you just used to map his wounds.

It’s a frantic, feverish exploration. Clothes are peeled away with desperate urgency. Every touch is a collision of rough, scarred skin against soft flesh. It’s a clash of worlds: the broken vigilante and the person who makes him feel whole.

You take the lead, mindful of his stitched shoulder and bruised ribs. You move against him, and the control you give him is in his surrender. For a man who fights for control every single night, letting you take charge is the ultimate act of trust.

The sounds are no longer hisses of pain, but ragged breaths and low groans of pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours, eyes screwed shut, whispering your name like it’s the only prayer he knows.

It’s not just sex—t’s a claiming. A silent, desperate acknowledgment that this safehouse, this bathroom, you—this is his home. This is where he comes to bleed, to heal, and to be reborn in your arms.

Afterward, tangled in the sheets of your bed, he pulls you against his chest, careful of his fresh stitches. He’s quiet, but his arm is a heavy, possessive weight around you. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your hair.

And in the quiet darkness of the room, you realize you’re not just patching up his body anymore. You’re mending the shattered pieces of his soul. And he, in his own broken way, is doing the same for you.

Thank you for the reading!💓 Please follow my side-blog to know when I update!

[neilsbeloved]

could you maybe write something about sub!clark kent 🙏🙏

mhmmm warming up my writing again!! apologies for taking this long, enjoy!!! (18+)

clark kent as a sub... is the ultimate giver. in-charge or not, clark kent as a person thrives off of giving you pleasure in any way you want it. you want to ride his face? he's on his back before you even finish the word. you want to suck his cock on warm sunday evening? he'd be on the couch with his cock hanging out, waiting for you like the patient pretty boy that he is.

clark kent as a sub... needs to always feel you. growing up in a family that shows love in such a physical way, clark aches whenever he's not with you. it doesn't matter if he had to hold all of your things in one hand just so he can keep the other one free to hold your hand, or your waist, or be it around your shoulder, he'll definitely do it.

on rare occasions, he'd still need to feel you even though you two are already next to each other. that's when he begins whispering in your ear for something more, something closer, something warmer—something like you walls. tight, warm, and oh-so grounding on his cock. he doesn't even have to move. no. he'd be content having his cock inside of you, thanking you for every minute your walls hug his cock.

clark kent as a sub... loves it when you let him sniff your panties. that exact moment you catch him smelling your underwear after he had persuaded you to let him do the laundry, hand in his pants, jerking himself off with your cotton panty by his nose—you have never been the same. when clark found out you knew, he was ruined too.

you'd be fresh off of some house chores—or work, clark doesn't care, he loves seeing you all reputable and capable—and you're about to take a relaxing bath alone. you whistle at him right before you take off your panties, him darting out to look you in the eyes as if the scent of your cunt wasn't driving his mind haywire.

he'll go over to you, already knowing the drill, dropping to his knees in front of you as he takes in your scent like it was the only thing keeping him alive. eyes screwed shut, lips bitten red, nose inhaling sharply. when you mention his name, only then does he start taking your panties off. the feeling of his teeth on your bare thigh making you wet by the second.

the entire time he's taking your undies off, he has his eyes glued to yours, big doe eyes pulling you into a trance. the moment he's successfully gotten it off, you'd bend down to grab it from him, lying out that part of the panty for him to smell.

when you're satisfied, content seeing your boyfriend absolutely worshipping you through your clothing, you may or may not invite him to the bathroom too. you did, actually.

clark kent as a sub... gets off on hearing you degrade him. all his life, he's always been this good guy. the kind of savior that always sweeps in to save day and make all things right. but when he's with you, he's this needy, whiney bitch that always needs to make you feel good.

clark kent as a sub... loves it when you use him like a dildo. back to the headboard, legs spread on the bed with more than enough space for your body. you'd bounce on his cock like it was the only thing you were born to do. all of your frustration, your anger, your energy; you're using up everything just to get yourself off all the while your boyfriend takes everything, and anything, you give him.

when you get tired, he'd happily bounce you on his cock. waiting for your every instruction just to prove to you how much of a good boy he is. when you want him to slow down, he would, even if that meant slowing down out his orgasm. when you want him to go faster—oooh boy, you're definitely getting it.

clark kent as a sub... acts bratty just to feel you punish him. his favorite punishment? you slapping his cock. clark kent almost never feels pain. he's got skin of steel, uncuttable hair, a body that can handle anything—and yet every time you slap his monster of a cock, he feels every nerve. the more you do it, the faster and easier he turns back into being your obedient little news boy.

clark kent as a sub… loves it whenever you mark him up with lipstick. no one’s dumb, of course, you can’t give him a hickey no matter how much you wanted to because he’s quite literally a being from another planet. even still, you make do with your favorite lipstick, making sure you have a fresh coat on your lips before marking up his neck, his shoulders—the shaft of his cock.

he never wipes it off. he keeps on the mark no matter what it is he does because he loves it when you get all possessive, and he thrives off of knowing that you want every person he walks by to see who owns him.

might flesh out one of these headcanons but i’m not sure which one yet, tell me ur thoughts!!! xoxo

[xzinbdg]

NO WAY BRO ❕❕

fifteen. no babies until ur 30. (w.)

warning: slightly suggestive?

۶ৎ synopsis: sim y/n, sim jake's sister, has known lee heeseung, her older brother's best friend, for ages. In her mind, he sees her like a little sister, but in reality, he has lost all his girlfriends because of his feelings for her, too bad he's afraid of her brother's reaction.

You finished packing with excitement bubbling up. In just 12 hours, you will see the love of your life, and your brother, I guess. You took a long shower and headed to sleep since you would wake up pretty early the next day. The problem was that you couldn’t fall asleep; you thought about all the possibilities of tomorrow. Would Heeseung be happy to see you? Or maybe he really will be the „couch guy.” You quickly stopped the thoughts before they got too crazy and tried to fall asleep. You eventually did and woke up groggy from your mother's voice.  — Darling, it’s time to wake up! — She said with a knock on your door — come join us for breakfast, and then you can get ready, and Dad will drive us to the train station — she continued, to which you answered a simple „okay” and started walking to the kitchen. You greeted your parents and sat at the table with them, beginning to eat. — You excited, honey? — your father asked, not looking up from his newspaper. — yes — you smiled at him, which he returned. — If you’re done with breakfast, start getting ready, we’re heading out in about 25 minutes — your mother said with a smile, to which you started heading for the bathroom. You went in for a quick shower and then did your morning routine. You didn’t have to think too much about what you were going to wear since you picked clothes the day before. You got dressed and went to the living room with your bag, ready to go.  — I’m ready — you announced to your parents — wow, that was quick, let’s go then — your mother said, moving to put on her shoes, your father doing the same.

You went to the car and your dad began driving to the train station. It wasn’t that far away, about 20 minutes from your house. The last time you were there, you said goodbye to Heeseung, and now you're going there to visit him. After a pleasant drive, you arrived, said your goodbyes to Dad, and went to buy tickets. The train arrived, and the two of you went in to pick your seats. That’s when Heeseung woke up. Today was his day off from school and work, so he slept in. He texted you your usual good morning texts. It was very difficult to act like you weren’t going to see him in a bit, but Jake said to surprise him, so that’s what you were going to do. Jake and Heeseung became roommates for this semester, so it would be easy to see him as you're „originally” going there to visit your brother.

The train ride would be about 5 hours, so you decided to do your makeup and then get some sleep. Your mother was watching a romance show right beside you the whole time. When the train was about 10 minutes away from arriving, your mother woke you up. The power nap left you a bit dazed before you realized you were at your destination. You got your bags and got off the train.  — Do you see your brother anywhere, honey? — Your mother asked — he will be picking us up — she added  You looked around until you spotted that familiar face. Jake was waving. You quickly pointed out to your mother that your brother was here, and the two of you made your way to him.  — Hi baby! How is college treating you so far? — Your mother asked, hugging Jake tightly — Hi, Mom — he smiled, returning the hug — It’s not too bad yet — he laughed. Your mother let him go, and you went in for a hug  — Hi, Jake — you smiled — hi, Stink, we both know you're not here for me — he smirked, and you felt your cheeks heat up. The thing is, your parents didn’t know about you and Heeseung yet.  — hmm? Why is that? — your mother asked, confused — ahh..I’ll tell you in the car — you said flustered, and quickly went to the parking lot, where you saw Jake’s car. 

You quickly put your bag in the back and sat in the backseat. Your mother and brother follow right after you. Jake started the car and began driving.  — so..I’m waiting, honey — your mother said, and you knew there wasn’t an out in this situation. You sighed before finally speaking  — I’m dating Heeseung — you said in one breath, your mother let out a laugh  — That was a secret? Honey, me, I already knew — she smiled — what? — You asked, surprised  — We knew from the moment he sang that weird song so loudly outside your window — she laughed again 

The rest of the car ride was pretty okay. Your mother asked a bit more about you and Heeseung, and they dropped the subject and began talking to Jake about his studies. The moment Jake said that you were close to his and your boyfriend's house, you froze up a bit, suddenly feeling nervous.  — Heeseung thinks it’s just mom visiting, so it will be fun to see his reaction to seeing you — Jake smirked. You all made your way to his apartment. Taking the elevator up, you kinda wished to use the stairs since this was way too fast for you. The moment you arrived at Jake’s door, you felt more nervous than ever; images of Heeseung being unhappy at seeing you flashed before your eyes. They all disappeared the moment you walked in and locked your eyes with his. Heeseung could not believe his eyes. he ran up to you, hugging you and twirling you around, smiling brightly.  — Surprise! — Jake shouted, leading your mom to her room for the next 2 days, leaving you and Heesung to have some privacy — Hi — you said shyly, and he just kissed you, which you returned.  — I missed you so much — he said with tears in his eyes. You smiled softly, wiping them away. — I missed you too, love. 

Heeseung led you to his room, and the two of you started talking about everything, his school, your school, friends, and other things. You moved to cuddle in his bed, just enjoying each other's presence. Heeseung sat up, and you sat in his lap. That’s when you felt a switch-up in the tension. It was thick, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Your lips met, but it felt different, more desperate. Heeseung deepened the kiss, adding his tongue in, and you felt like the room was spinning, suddenly feeling way hotter than ever. Heeseung grabbed your ass and just squeezed it. You let out a whimper at this action, which caused Heeseung to break off the kiss. His forehead touched yours, the two of you breathing deeply from what just happened.  — That was so hot — heeseung let out.  You were about to answer when the door was opened. Jake was standing there, terror on his face like he had just seen the most insane thing in the world.  — ew, really??? No babies before you're 30. — he said with disgust  — ever heard of knocking? — you asked — well now I will since you two freaks are together - he sighed dramatically, and you just rolled your eyes and got off of Heeseung  — s..so what did you need? — Heeseung asked, still slightly embarrassed from the situation your brother just saw.  — We’re going out for dinner, be ready in 10 — Jake said with a slight laugh, looking at his friend's embarrassed face. 

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

written part: 1,3k

۶ৎ pairing: brother's best friend!heeseung x reader

۶ৎ genre: smau, brother's bestfriend, forbidden love, angst, fluff, crack

۶ৎ emi's note: hi! im back! today i present u guys with some spice 🤭 i hope u enjoyed it! (jake def didn't lmao)

۶ৎ taglist: @callikari @imanalien143 @kekaekeke @4lndr17 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @bejewelledgirl @jokkomizz @octoberoflove @swanwonyoung @mheretoreadff @s1rawb3rry @hee-ology @m1kkso @ayyonoona @augustloaf @lovenha7 @kukkurookkoo @honestlyatomicpanda @httpenhoon @noiiny @i03jae @celli-ohs @lilliansreality @jvngw0nlvr @starbyeol1512 @enhaz1 @lhseungg @sillyyuz @jiaant11 @wintereals @taehyuniesworld @fancypeacepersona @eyesonlybutterflies @yuyita-rosier @right-person-wrong-time @norihoyeon @heecel @rairaiblog @orimuraa @daniellesyellowhands @n-i4 @w2hoonki @ilovhoonie @jae-n0 @doveblackboat @ningningiloveumarryme @hyunjinslonglegs @jyikeu @reikaxslvr @teddywonss

[prettyinpink69]

Pervert Sevika ♥︎

Part 2 here

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who watches you from across the street, she was never into gardening until you moved in. Now every Sunday morning without fail she is mowing her lawn when you leave for church... she has to get a glimpse of you in that pretty white dress.

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who has learnt your parents work schedules and always makes an excuse to visit when your alone. Like when your mother complained to Sevika that their washing machine was broken. Sevika was there fixing it the minute your parents left. Knocking on your door with her tool box, you answer the door with a big smile. "Good morning Miss Sevika!" She leans againt the doorframe and speaks huskily "Morning sweet girl, the washing machine is broken huh?.." let's just say she left with a few pairs of your panties...

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who uses said panties to get herself off, rubbing them agaisnt her clit as she looks out of the window and into your bedroom opposite. You were studying, it was innocent, but that's what pushed her over the edge, watching the way your hair fell down your back, or the way you would bite your pen when you got stuck. Bringing the panties to her nose now smelling your sweetness overpowered by her own release.

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who knows she's too old for you, your only in college and she's 41. So she settles for being the 'nice neighbour across the road' she befriends your mother and your mother starts inviting her for family finner every Friday after realising Sevika lives alone.

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who shows up to dinner every Friday with a big smile on her face. Accidently brushing her hand agaisnt yours when you pass the potatoes. Accidently rubbing her foot against your bare foot under the table just to touch you.

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who finally works up the courage to follow you upstairs, she waits outside the bathroom, just to listen to you relieve yourself, wishing she could be in there. And then slipping into the bathroom and being the first person to ever touch your sweet little pussy, licking and lapping at your cunt before you even get off the toilet. The bitter mix of arousal and your piss almost making her cum in her own panties, she sends you back downstairs commando under your skirt.

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who steals your panties that night, so now she has two pairs to get off with over the next week until she sees you again.

Pervert Neighbour X Sevika where it then becomes routine, she convinces you it's not wrong. You both slip away from dinner every Friday for her to eat your cunt on the bathroom counter, she spreads your legs and tugs your panties off, slipping them in her pocket. "Se-sevika your.. keeping my panties again?- oh..." you cut yourself off with a moan and she suckles on your clit like a woman starved. Forgetting about the panties.

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who takes you shopping for new panties after you complain that she always steals yours. You ask her why she won't just give them back, she just gives you a stern look and you don't ask again.

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who comes into the changing room while ypur trying on panties, after the first pair you tired on she ate you out then and there, then you tried the second pair on and she did the same. "Are.. are you going to do this between every pair of panties I try on?" You ask quietly, still coming down from your second orgasm. "I wasn't going too, but you just gave me a brillaint idea... greedy girl..." and yes. She licked, sucked and fucked your messy little pussy between each pair of panties.

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who let you move in with her when your religious parents found out you were letting the older, seemingly friendly woman from across the road defile you. Saying that you weren't only going agaisnt god for being gay, but letting there take your innocence before marrige? Luckily she only lived across the road right?

Pervert Obsessed Neighbour X Sevika who finally got to fuck you properly with her strap and stretch you out the first night you moved in, convincing you it's okay because "God would be fine with it, it's not a real dick babygirl just take it for me yeah?" You were clutching her biceps, your white nails digging into the muscles which were flexed as she held herself up over you. "Y-yes..." you moan and cry out when she finds your g-spot. "Yes what baby? Come on you remember me telling you I know you do smart girl..." your eyes roll back and just as the coil in your tummy snaps "Yes ma'am!-"

[choerrysjubiles]

I'm Like a Lawyer

pairing: best friend's brother!eunseok x fem!reader

warning: smut! oral, protected and unprotected sex, singular creampie, reader is not specified to be younger or older, slight size kink, hair pulling (m rec.), boob play (f rec.), brief mentions of food, eunseok and reader are mean to each other <3 also winter is his sister in this

wc: 8.4k

a/n: sorry that i held onto this for so long 😞 still getting used to work so heres a belated gift <3

All throughout high school you practically lived at Minjeong’s house. With your parents working and generally busy, it wasn’t difficult for her family to bring you over and let you spend the night. You and her were childhood friends that thankfully stayed together, she’d spend a night at your house and you’d do the same at hers. You lived in the same neighborhood, you usually studied together when sleeping over, you both were a pleasure to have in general.

While it started and kept to exam season, you were seen more and more at her place. During your first year at college, grateful to be in a dorm and far from the walls of your childhood bedroom, they were always happy to open their door to you when the school breaks came around.

You, of course, spent time with your parents and family but it was nice being with Minjeong’s family, too.

During one of your breaks, you’ve found yourself in the same bedroom: same posters decorating her walls from her high school interests, same plush carpet adding a splash of color to the wood floors, same bed that was littered in stuffed animals and pillows.

It was a little past two in the morning, you’ve always been a light sleeper while Minjeong practically passed out. Waking up, you checked your phone and carefully crept out of her bed, even though you wouldn’t need to. You remember seeing her still asleep even after you tripped and tumbled to the floor, hearing her family’s dog begin barking at her bedroom door to see what the noise was.

You groggily walked to the bathroom. It wasn’t very far, it was just past her’s and her brother, Eunseok’s, bedrooms. You thought you heard something walking past his room but you wrote it off as tiredness, after some horrible study crams you’ve found sleep deprivation gives you auditory hallucinations.

Walking back, you hear the same thing but louder. You walked as softly as you could, leaning closer to his door as you hear grunting and sighing.

Oh.

You felt a cold shock creep up your spine, this is not the time to be looking around. Certainly not when your friend’s brother is masturbating. Walking as softly as you could, you tried bee lining for Minjeong’s room.

“Hey.”

You froze, a few steps away from his room. No adrenaline can help you sprint to her room, let alone quietly.

“I saw your shadow at my door.”

“Fuck.” You muttered.

You quietly walk back to his door, your stomach is in knots, your face felt so hot it could burn your hand if you touched your cheek. This is wrong and Eunseok’s trying to make it worse, oh god what if he wants to get off on your embarrassment? You’d never be able to walk back in here again.

You carefully opened his door, a small crack to peer in.

“Do you need something?”

“Come in more, don’t be shy now.”

“Oh my god.” You muttered, walking in and closing the door behind you.

His room smelt like him, messy like him, too. A mix between the soap he uses and fabric softener: powdery, woody, somehow clean. He was cleaner than you’d expect, too, no messes or piles of clothing on his floor.

“You wanna tell me why you were listening? Maybe even watching.”

Eunseok was sat at his desk, reclined back as he watched you stiffly stand at his door, almost waiting to bolt out.

“I was not watching, you pervert.” You spat, “I was going to the bathroom, not my fault you’re loud.”

“And when you walked back?” Eunseok pressed.

“Is this some kind of game to you?”

The longer you stood in his room the more Eunseok pissed you off.

“Can we just forget this happened? I’d like to go back to sleep.” Your hand moved behind your back, feeling for the doorknob.

“I can’t get off.”

“Huh?”

You were dumbfounded.

The air felt thick, tension growing between the five or so feet standing between the two of you.

“Thought if you were some voyeur, you’d help me out.”

Your brain was swarming with thoughts, kind of scared and kind of horny.

“You don’t have to, I can get off on my own.”

“I can.”

You don’t know what possessed you to say that. It didn’t even feel like you, the words tumbled out. You could see Eunseok shift, relaxing and amused at your shyness.

“Come here, then.”

Your legs were both heavy and light, stumbling in his room towards his bed as he sat down beside you.

“What do you-”

“Why are you shy all of a sudden?”

Eunseok leaned in, almost studying you.

“Where’d that confidence go, y/n?”

Your stomach made another knot when he said your name. Eunseok never called you by your name. He’d usually call you Minjeong’s friend, even girlfriend when he wanted to tease the two of you. He’d call you “kid” or something. He rarely ever spoke your name.

“I-”

“Oh, is this your first time with a boy?” He started smirking, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“Fuck you.” You spat, “You’d wish to know my body count.”

“Then stop being shy, I’m the one asking for help.”

You both shifted, getting somewhat comfortable on the bed. Eunseok pulled his boxers down, showing his straining erection. He’s larger than you thought he’d be, not that you’ve fantasized about your friend’s brother.

“Shy, again?”

You grab his dick, gripping the base of him a little tighter than you should, hearing him gasp and yelp was nice.

“You wanted me to be bold, no?”

“Holy shit.”

You scooted closer, softening your grip as you jerked him. His hips bucked upwards every now and then, especially when your thumb swiped over his slit and smeared his precum. You wondered how long he’d been trying, gotta be desperate to ask your sister’s friend for help.

“It’s not enough.” Eunseok grunted.

“Not enough?” You repeated.

“Have you ever sucked dick?”

You shook your head.

“Wanna try?”

You hesitated before moving onto the floor, his legs spread on each side of your body as you leaned down at licked at his slit. He was musky and salty. Eunseok groaned at the feeling of your warm tongue on him. Your hand continued jerking him, twisting his base as you pushed his tip into your mouth.

“Keep going.”

You sucked in, tongue swirling along his underside as you tried pushing more of him into your mouth. His head was pulsating in your mouth, hot and throbbing as you sucked and bobbed.

“Ah, keep going.”

His hand pushed your hair away. You could see how tense his stomach was, flexing and relaxing as you continued sucking him off. The more Eunseok moaned the more soaked you felt your panties grow, pushing him deeper into your mouth just to hear how desperate he was.

“Right there, keep sucking.” Eunseok groaned.

You do as he said, twisting and sucking through the dull ache in your jaw.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum.”

Oh no.

You pulled off, watching how sweaty Eunseok was: hair sticking to his forehead, brows furrowed, tensed jaw as he finally felt his high come.

“Point it, ah, your mouth.”

“Oh my god.” You muttered.

You wrapped your lips around his head, tongue swirling and pressing into his slit before he came. His large hand wrapped around yours, squeezing it at his base and helping you milk him. You were surprised at how much cum he had, you had to pull away to swallow and feel his cum spurt onto your lips and chin before he was finished.

“Thanks.” He relaxed against bed, your hand moved to rest on his thigh, his still on top of yours.

“That’s it?” You asked, “I’m not getting anything.”

He huffed, “Fine, get up here.”

You switched spots, laying where he was felt weird. You could feel how warm his back was, how the blankets flattened under and around you. You felt terribly small laying where he was.

Pulling your shorts and panties down, Eunseok stared at your core. You were wet and shiny, leaning in he pushed your legs apart, making your breath hitch before he pushed his head into your thighs. You smelt sweet, a little sweaty but a kind of feminine musk he wasn’t used to.

He held your thighs apart, looking at your folds and the thick arousal leaking out of you.

“Are you gonna stare or do something?”

Eunseok looked up at you, glaring at you before leaning in and licking a stripe upwards. You fell back onto his bed, thighs trying to close in as he held them open. You were sweet on his tongue, a mixture of sweet and salty and you. Something so unique he could only describe it as a you taste.

His tongue lapped more, licking up the cum from your entrance and swirling around your clit. Feeling his large hands hold you open was erotic, you’ve never had a guy excited to eat you out let alone like this.

You gripped onto his bedsheets, scared to move down and feel his hair. He did that to you but something felt wrong to do it back. Even in your horny daze you knew it would feel weird, as if he wasn’t trying to tongue-fuck you right now.

“Can you keep one leg open?”

You whined, “Yeah.”

Eunseok’s right hand left your thigh, his fingers ghosting over your core before pressing into your entrance.

“Eunseok.” You gasped.

He looked up at you, tongue swirling and pressing into your clit as he watched your back arch, hands clawing at his sheets. His hand left your thigh, pushing your shirt upwards. He’s sure you were too fucked out to remember moaning his name just now, you probably won’t register him pushing your shirt up.

Eunseok slipped a second finger into you, stretching out your walls and feeling them pulsate around him. His left hand moved up to tweak your nipple, feeling your hands grab at his wrist, hips swirling around his head and hand as you felt your orgasm approach.

“You gotta be quiet, y/n.”

He felt you clench as he said your name.

“It’s not just my sister in the house.”

You brought one hand to your mouth, biting onto your pointer finger to keep your noises down. Your other hand was still gripping onto Eunseok’s, feeling his rough fingertips massage your breast and toy with your nipple.

Feeling Eunseok hit that special spot made your back arched higher.

“Right there!” You tried to whisper-shout.

He pumped his fingers right where you told him, tongue memorizing your clit as you felt that coil burst. Your thighs trembling as they close around his head. Your mind blanked, feeling that hot, mind numbing pleasure from cumming and your hands found their way onto Eunseok’s head. Fingers entwined in his hair, holding him in place as his tongue massaged your clit, elongating your high.

As you came down, your legs relaxed and hands left his scalp. Your breathing was heavy but were managing to calm yourself down.

“Was that worth sucking my dick?” He asked, hands massaging your thighs.

“It was pretty good.” You tease.

Eunseok scoffed, surprised you have the energy to still be a brat even after he made you cum. He watches you pull your clothes back on, attempting to help you walk out the door before you stopped him.

“I’m fine.”

“Goodnight.” He snaps back.

You walked back to Minjeong’s room, quietly sneaking back into bed before she could smell her brother on you.

Spending some time away from Minjeong’s house, specifically away from her brother, you were reminded of Minjeong buying the two of you concert tickets. She was so excited to see this band tour near your town, buying tickets as soon as it was released. She already told her parents about it, promising them she’d be responsible and not get into trouble during the concert.

You were in her room, grateful Eunseok was busy somewhere else so you didn’t have to even walk past him. Sorting through Minjeong’s closet for her concert outfit.

“Your dad’s driving us?” You asked.

“No, my loser brother is.”

“He is?” You felt your face go cold.

“Yeah, my mom wanted him to help us out, I’ve done enough favors for him, anyways.”

“He’s just driving us, right?”

You didn’t wanna sound paranoid but hearing his name brought flashbacks to that night.

“Yeah, he’s just dropping us off, picking us up. We won’t have to see him for more than ten minutes.”

You relaxed at her words, “Cool.”

The time between then and the concert was filled with messages sharing outfit ideas. Showing off different combinations of whatever was in your closets and telling your parents about Minjeong’s plans.

“Who’s driving?” Your dad asked.

“Her brother, Eunseok.”

“How nice, make sure to thank him.” Your mother said.

You nodded, doing your best to hide your nervousness around the topic of Eunseok.

When the concert came around, you already had an overnight bag packed. There were plenty of concerts you’ve had, spending the night with each other. You made sure to pack a spare change of clothes and some other necessities.

Finally ready to leave for the concert, Eunseok was quick to snap at you and Minjeong.

“I’m not chaperoning you two.” He stated.

“It’s more chauffeuring.” You commented.

“You’re both well into college, why haven’t either of you gotten a license?” He asked.

“Because we have you to drive us around.” Minjeong forced a smile.

Eunseok grabbed his keys, unlocking his car.

“Y/n front seat, Minjeong back.”

“Huh?” You said.

“Why am I in the back?” Minjeong paused, looking back at her brother with a glare.

“I can’t stand you being this close let along next to me.”

“Why am I in the front then?” You asked, grasping the front passenger door handle.

“I’m not your chauffeur.”

“And you just can’t stand being near your sister.” Minjeong muttered.

You tried covering your laughter as you got into the front passenger seat. The proximity to Eunseok felt weird, you still thought about that night and you’re sure he did, too. Thankfully Minjeong’s never picked up on the tension. It was maybe fifteen minutes before he drove to the venue, you sighed in relief at how fast the drive was.

Eunseok found a spot to park before letting you two out.

“I’m not staying. I’m dropping you off and I’ll pick you up. If I’m late, I’m late.”

“The love and care you have for us.” Minjeong said.

You both walked to the growing line, standing and waiting until someone scanned your tickets, letting you wait in another line at the venue doors. Soon enough the venue opened their doors and you were waiting for the opening act.

The concert began, you and Minjeong were looking the band up, liking their music as they played and recorded some moments. When the main act came on Minjeong was quick to clear space on her phone, recording her favorite songs and dancing in the crammed crowd. After the concert, you and Minjeong raced to the merch booth, waiting in line to grab a t-shirt and see what merch they said for the tour. Some of the items were sold out but you were happy with what you bought.

Walking outside, Minjeong texted Eunseok, telling him to come soon.

“Fucking asshole,” She showed you the texts he sent her.

Mimicking his voice in a comically deep tone, she read: “If I’m late, I’m late.” 

You laughed, moving to sit along the sidewalk as you waited for Eunseok to arrive. Looking through your camera rolls and rewatching some clips you recorded. Soon enough, Eunseok pulled in and you both hopped into the car, Minjeong still mentioning something about being in the backseat.

“Did you enjoy the bad music?” He asked, driving off to the main road.

“Yeah, it was horrible.” You joked.

Minjeong groaned, peering over to see his bluetooth connecting to his phone.

“Your playing your lame ass music?” She asked.

“This is my car, of course I’m gonna play my music.”

If you pretend to not feel the hostility, the drive back to their house was rather pleasant. It was a little quiet before Eunseok pulled into their driveway. Exiting the car, Eunseok locked the doors.

“Mom and dad are asleep but they left some of the food out for you two.”

“Thank god.” Minjeong said.

Walking in, you and Minjeong walked to her room, setting your things down before relaxing your legs.

“Did you wanna shower before eating?” She asked.

“Yeah, if it’s okay.”

“Of course, I’ll tell Eunseok then shower after you.”

You grabbed the extra set of clothing you brought. Your usual concert routine with Minjeong was to shower at either of your houses then rewatch concert clips. Especially at a small venue with no seating, you hated how sweaty and gross you felt.

Walking towards her bathroom, you turned the water on and waited for it to warm up. Stepping in, you adjusted the heat and washed yourself. Minjeong was always open about you two sharing products. She used your lotions, you used her body washes, you shared hair clips and perfumes. Of course you grabbed a clean wash cloth, not wanting to overstep that line of sharing things.

Grabbing at her conditioner, you saw a small, square bar of soap.

‘Minjeong doesn’t use bar soap.’

You picked it up, smelling the same woody, earthy scent you’ve smelled on Eunseok. You put it back down, nerves bubbling in your stomach before you continue to clean yourself and focus on anything but that smell.

Getting out and drying off, you changed and walked back to Minjeong’s room. Plugging her hair dryer in to dry your hair off as she began showering. She didn’t take long, returning after a few minutes to dry her hair beside you.

“Ugh, I think Eunseok showered earlier, that gross soap in stinking up the bathroom.”

“Oh, I think I got it a bit wet, probably fragranced the room, sorry.”

“Oh!” She laughed, “It’s fine, I’ve done that a few times, he needs to stop using bar soap, stinks the whole room up.”

You laughed, focusing on anything but the topic of her brother.

Drying off, you both walked towards her kitchen, finding the plates of food and warming them up to eat. The dining room was echoing the hushed laughter between you two, talking as lowly as you could before finishing the meals. You both relaxed in her room, talking and watching videos together until you both fell asleep.

As if on cue, your body jolted awake at three in the morning. You shifted, trying to fall back asleep before you felt how full your bladder was. Accepting your defeat, you snuck out of minjeong’s bed and crept towards the bathroom.

Walking past Eunseok’s room, you noticed how quiet it was.

‘Of course it’s quiet, he’s probably asleep.’

Walking back, you notice his door was slightly open and as you walk past the door he pulled you inside. Pulling you against the wall as he loomed over you.

“Why are you such a fucking brat?”

“Jesus,” You gasped, “am I supposed to be best friends with you since I sucked your dick?”

“No. But fuck, every time you’re near it’s like some fucking game.”

Eunseok leaned down, pressing his face against your neck and smelling you.

“I’m not playing any game, I don’t even pay attention to you.”

You shoved him lightly. He’s far too strong to push away but you try to show some dominance. Eunseok leaned down, watching your face scrunch in anger, he liked how annoyed you looked.

“Even when we were in the car?”

“You did that.” You stated, “You said you didn’t want to be next to Minjeong, you can’t put any of that on me.”

Eunseok pulled you closer, pressing his lips onto yours.

Pulling away, “Sure I can.”

He smiled down at you, seeing your nervousness grow.

“You were so quiet, so nervous in the car.”

“Fuck you.”

Eunseok pulled you in again, pressing his pelvis into yours. Your hands gripped his biceps, trying to stabilize yourself as he pulled you towards his bed.

“God, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Makes me wish you weren’t so obsessive.” You said, glaring at him.

Eunseok ground his hips into yours, seeing you gasp and slowly fall apart beneath him.

“Can’t stop thinking about me, huh?” You said, “You’re sneaking me into your room and trying to fuck me.”

“Big talk for someone so wet for me.”

His fingers ground into your core, feeling how soaked your panties were. Your thighs tightened, feeling his hands push your underwear to the side as he soaked his hand into your juices.

“So wet.” He leaned in, making sure you felt his breath on your skin, “So warm.”

Eunseok leaned into his side, he was still hovering over you and watching you shift around. You leaned on your elbows, watching his finger slide around your folds and gather the slick juices from your core. He pulled his hand away, stretching the shiny arousal that clung from your pussy to his fingers.

You watched Eunseok’s hand move from your core to his mouth, dropping his fingers onto his tongue and sucking you off of them. Eunseok could see how nervous that made you, how arousal and vulnerable you became.

“Can I fuck you?” He asked.

“Oh you don’t prefer to make love?” You snapped back.

He moved to hover over you, seeing you relax into his bed, “You keep talking like you’re not dripping onto my bedsheets.”

His hand held your jaw, fingertips wet with your cum and his saliva,

“Did you want me to make love to you?”

“That sounds far nicer, Eunseok.”

He crashed his lips onto yours, desperate to keep your lips against his. Your hands wrapped around his back and gripped onto his shirt. Eunseok’s hands moved down, pulling your shirt off before removing his own. He leaned back down, tongue laying a wide stripe along your neck as your hips rolled against his.

Eunseok kissed you again, tongue and teeth crashing against yours as you whined against him. His hands moved to grope your breasts, feeling them and tweaking your nipples as you tried keeping up with his lips. He trailed downward, kissing and sucking along your breasts before moving down to your soiled panties. He pressed his face against your heat, breathing you in and kissing against your clothed folds.

“Eunseok.” You whined, feeling your hips roll against his face.

He pulled them to the side, too desperate to taste you. His tongue was quick and eager to lap at your folds. It felt like his lips were kissing your folds, sucking and slurping you up before his tongue pressed against your entrance.

You tried pulling your panties off, wanting to feel him all over. He held your panties in place, teasing you as he continued to lap at your core.

“Feels good?”

“So good.” You answered, still trying to pull the fabric off.

“Keep them on, you look so cute in them.” Eunseok said, pressing his fingers into the wet fabric clinging to your folds.

You shook your head, “Please.”

“I don’t know, you’ve been so bratty these days.”

“Please, Eunseok.” You begged.

He stared at your desperate state, how much arousal was leaking out of you, how your breathing was so heavy, the desperate plea in your eyes. Eunseok pulled your panties down, exposing your heat to the cool air.

You sighed in relief, feeling him close your thighs together before kissing and lapping at your clit. His grip was far stronger than you originally thought, Eunseok made sure you stayed still. No rolling your hips, no opening your thighs. He was the one giving you pleasure, there was nothing you could persuade him to do.

He pulled away, holding your thighs together before removing his hands to undo his sweats. Taking them off he showed his lack of boxers on and his hard erection. You held your thighs together out of fear he wouldn’t pleasure you, you could still feel the imprint of his hands on your flesh.

“Finally you’re behaving.”

Eunseok walking over to grab a condom, “You wanted to fuck, right? Oh, I’m sorry, we were making love.”

“Fuck you.” You spat, feeling your thighs tremble from anticipation.

“That doesn’t sound appreciative.”

“You pulled me into your room for sex! I wanted to sleep, you know.”

“And you’re gonna have the best sleep after I dick you down.”

Eunseok spread your legs open, watching the arousal coating your folds drip into a puddle on his bed.

“So wet for me.”

He pulled the condom on, slapping his tip against your clit, amused at how your body jolted from the feeling. Eunseok moved on top of you, hovering above your face as he poked at your entrance. It was infuriating, feeling him tease and poke and slide his length along your folds without doing anything.

“Can you put it in?” You finally asked.

“Put what in?”

“Your dick.”

“Where?”

You huffed, “Eunseok.”

“You gotta tell me what you want, y/n.”

You felt your cheeks heat, “You know what I want.”

“Tell me.” He smirked down at you, watching your nerves and embarrassment go off.

“Can you please put your dick in me?”

“Just in you?”

You were growing angry.

“I want you to fuck me, Eunseok. I want to feel your dick pound into me so hard I can only fuck you.”

He pushed his length into you, watching you gasp at his girth. Eunseok was amazed at how hot you felt, his fingers didn’t feel this warm but his dick is on fire.

“Wait.” He said.

“No, please move.” You begged.

“You’re so fucking tight I’m gonna cum if I move.”

You whined, waiting for him to calm down before thrusting into you. You could feel how heavy he was inside you, his wide girth stretching you out, his dick just heavy enough to put pressure on the lower part of your walls.

“You enjoying yourself?” Eunseok asked.

“Your dick is insane.”

You were shifting everywhere, your hands gripping his bed, your hips rocking into his, your legs kept folding and stretching and folding again. Eunseok leaned forward, pressing a kiss onto your lips.

“I see you’re growing to like me.”

“Or your dick.”

He pressed all the way into you, halting his movements as you scrambled to feel something.

“I’m sorry, please-”

“Now you’re sorry.”

“Please move, Eunseok, I’m sorry I said that.”

“Are you gonna cum around me?”

Eunseok pulled out.

“Yes, I’ll cum twice around you.”

He slowly pushed back in, moving his hand to rub your clit.

“Three times?”

“Four times,” You gasped, “keep moving.”

Eunseok chuckled before continuing his pace, his fingers never left your clit, rubbing and circling the muscle before you clamped around his length.

You didn’t know your orgasm was approaching so soon, his teasing and slow movements were unbearable enough that your body made the decision for you. Your stomach tense and walls tight around Eunseok.

“One out of four.” He whispered.

He pulled out, moving to grab more condoms before returning to you. You sat up, feeling him move you onto all fours, your face pressing into his pillow. You could feel his hands move from your back to feel your ass, thumbs pressing into the fleshiest part.

“Fuck you’re like a doll.”

He slid his condom on before pushing into you.

“Mmm. Wait.” You were breathless.

“You need some time?”

You nodded, “I’m still sensitive.”

“Take all the time in the world, babygirl.”

You squeezed around his length when Eunseok called you that pet name. You waited until you felt ready, giving him your okay you felt Eunseok pull out and push back in. His hands were gripping your hips as he thrusted into you.

“Eunseok.” You moaned.

You slowly pushed your arm up to your face, biting down onto your hand when you remembered his family was here.

The pleasure was insane, feeling his dick weigh down onto a different area of your pussy was driving you wild. Your hips continued swirling and pushing back onto him, feeling his hands grip you harder. Eunseok felt girthier, maybe from the position or maybe from your previous orgasm, but he felt too good.

“I’m gonna cum.” You warned.

He sped up, rutting his hips into your core as he felt his high approach.

“There, there.” You chanted.

You felt your walls close around him, again. His hips not stopping until he came into the condom. You were breathless, mind hazy from feeling back to back orgasms. Eunseok leaned down to your shoulder.

“Wanna go again?”

“Yes.”

He pulled out, helping you move off of his pillow as he sat there. Eunseok pulled you into his lap, disposing the condom and replacing it.

“Wanna ride me?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Of course you can.”

He pulled you closer, pressing a wet kiss onto your mouth before getting you all fours again. Slowly, you slid back onto his dick.

“Atta girl.”

You moaned at his encouragement. Looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, you can do this.”

You bounced back onto him, using your thighs to move yourself up and down his length. You felt Eunseok lay a light smack onto your ass, making you yelp and squeeze around him.

“That’s it, you’re taking me like a champ.”

You fell against his chest, your torso being too much for you to hold up.

“Relax, if you can push it out a little longer I can help you.”

You liked how his hand pet your hair, slow and smooth as you clenched and rode his dick. You continued, now able to focus and speed up while your face was pressed against his chest. You felt his hips suddenly thrust upwards.

“Ah.”

You grabbed onto Eunseok, overwhelmed by his sudden movements.

“Keep going, I can match your pace.”

You nodded, feeling his dick reach impossible spots inside you. Every thrust made your brain go blank, focusing exclusively on how good Eunseok felt inside you. Every time you rocked back onto him you felt your clit rub against him, making you shake from pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whine.

Eunseok sped up, pumping himself into you as you felt that knot tighten and tighten. Soon you froze, happy you were laying on Eunseok as your body gave out, feeling the crash of your orgasm hit you.

You were breathing heavily, feeling his chest move up and down.

“Final round?” You ask.

Eunseok scoffed, “Final round.”

He changed condoms, moving you onto your back before sliding back in. Your walls were tighter, almost swollen from how much he’s stretched you out and made you cum. He pushed your knees to your chest, watching his dick disappear inside you while your hand moved down to rub your clit.

“Good?”

You nodded, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning. Eunseok fluidly thrusts into you, far slower than before and with far more strength in each pump. This mixed with your fingers circling your clit so fast, you were sure you’d cum in no time.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” He grunts, hips thrusting faster.

“Have you ever thought,” You suppress another moan when he hits that one spot, “that you’re just too big?”

Eunseok laughed, “I’m not that big.”

Thrusting more, Eunseok pushes your calves higher, making you hold your legs while he ruts into you. You felt tired and desperate, feeling that knot slowly form as your hand begins to slip from the sweat building up on your legs.

“You wanna cum?”

You nod, “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg for it.”

He began rubbing your clit, teasing the muscle before pumping slow and hard thrusts into your pussy, thrusting his entire length into you before pulling all the way out to do it again.

“Eunseok.”

You can only take it, slowly feeling that knot burst as he pounds slowly into you, sheathing himself inside you when you clamped around him. You’re both breathing heavy, the smell of sweat and sex filling the air as he pulled out. Eunseok crashes on his bed as you debate falling asleep here.

You look over and grab your shirt, pulling it on before sitting up.

“You need anything?” He asks, head tilting to look over at you.

“No,” you answer, “might clean up in the bathroom.”

Eunseok nodded, watching you get up and walk out.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Eunseok.”

You walk into the bathroom, cleaning yourself up and trying to mask the smell of Eunseok on you. You realize you left your underwear in his room, you felt your stomach knot before relaxing.

‘I have another pair, it’ll be a souvenir for him.’ You thought.

Walking back, he didn’t call out or try to bring them back. Maybe he forgot, maybe he wanted them. Regardless, you slipped back into Minjeong’s room and quietly put on your extra underwear. Crawling back into her bed to sleep.

Thankfully the rest of your time during break was at your house. Minjeong missed your mom and liked coming over when she wasn’t at work as well as playing with your game consoles instead of Eunseok’s.

“You do have better taste in games.”

The only time you were in proximity to Eunseok was during their summer party. Minjeong’s dad was always big on neighborhood parties, always inviting people for barbecues and picnics during games or holidays.

“You’re coming, right?” Minjeong asked.

“Of course! I go, like, every year.”

“Cool, your mom’s coming, too?”

“I think,” You told her, “she loves hanging out with your parents. Not so sure about my dad, he’s doing a lot of overtime for time off in autumn.”

“Okay.”

You were excited to see what they’d do this year. It’s never terribly exciting, but you saw how much they loved hosting parties and you couldn’t help but anticipate what they’d do.

When their party came, you made sure to walk over early. The weather was unbearably hot so you wore one of your shorter sundresses. Even the thought of wear shorts felt unbearable in this weather.

When you arrived, Minjeong’s mom answered the door. She wasn’t too surprised at you arriving early, you always offered to help her with these parties.

“You’re too kind, y/n. I can’t keep letting you help me.” She laughed.

“Even just setting up the tables, I really don’t mind.”

Her mom guided you to the kitchen, “When it’s time you can help move the food to the tables, nothing more. You like to help too much.”

You laughed, sitting down to watch her finish cooking before the party began.

Slowly more neighbors came by, you helped her move the food and talk to people as they walked around. You found Minjeong with her dad talking while he grilled outside. You made your way towards them, catching Eunseok walk outside. He was in the corner of your vision, youou tried to not notice him, turning completely away to not even glance at him.

You talked with Minjeong while watching her dad before she remembered her mom asked her to do something.

“She never gets mad when you’re near.” Minjeong held onto your arm as she walked the two of you into the house.

You laughed while feeling Minjeong’s hands hold onto you, she was walking so quickly to outrun her mom. In the corner of your eye you saw Eunseok walk closer, maybe towards you or to his dad.

Before anyone could notice, you helped Minjeong set up the last bits of decor out. Setting some things away before laying out throw blankets and tidying up the coffee table. You wondered how she was able to miss this, what was she busy doing that she couldn’t put away magazines and tv remotes.

You stepped back, finished with the last chore Minjeong needed help with when you felt someone bump into your back. It wasn’t hard, just enough to push you forward and feel something cold touch your back.

“I’m so sorry.”

Minjeong’s mom spoke as she ran to grab a napkin, helping dab the stain setting in. It was in such an awkward area, too, right along your backside.

“I have a jacket you can cover up with.” Eunseok appeared behind the scene.

“It’s far too hot.” Minjeong said.

“It’s not that bad.” You said.

“I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Eunseok,” His mother said, “the stain is a little bright.” She said to you.

You nodded, following Eunseok towards his bedroom. Walking past a mirror, you noticed how large and pigmented the spot was. Walking into his room, Eunseok pushed you against his wall, lips pressing into yours as he groped at your breasts.

“I thought we were grabbing a jacket?”

“Your tits look to good in this.”

Eunseok leaned down, lips pressing into your collarbones and the fleshy top of your breasts. His hands grabbed at your waist, pulling you even closer.

“You’re making me horny.” He confessed.

“Jerk off, then.”

“Can we please fuck?”

“I said you could jerk off, then.”

Eunseok couldn’t let you win at these bratty comments, “Oh you wanna watch me jerk off again, that’s it.”

You laughed, “I just want something to cover up with, you’re the only demanding I use your stuff.”

You’re able to leave his grasp, opening his closet to look through it. Eunseok walked behind you, hands holding your waist to distract you from your search.

“God, everything you own is a sweatshirt and hoodie.”

He ground his erection into your ass, his breathing growing ragged against your ear.

“You’re gonna get caught.” You warn him.

“Please, it’ll be so quick.”

You roll your eyes, not caring while you move to look through his jackets.

“Five minutes.”

“I’m sure you can cum in four.” You snap.

“I’ll do all the work.” He offered, “Please.”

You grab a lighter jacket, the thinnest one he had before pulling it on.

“We might have three minutes.”

Eunseok pulled you into him, pushing you into the wall before pulling your panties down. He was close to tearing them before you pulled them off of one leg, lifting it for him to thrust into you.

Grabbing his hair, you pulled him closer to you, “Don’t fucking cum in me.”

Eunseok nodded, feeling a mix between fear and excitement from your sudden dominance. He pushed in, sighing as he bottomed out before quickly thrusting into you. Your walls felt so tight, so warm around him. He was in heaven, moving to rub your clit as you leaned against the wall.

“Can I see your tits?”

You groaned, pulling your dress down to pop your breasts out. He leaned down, as far as he could, to kiss and suck onto your breasts. Moaning into your skin as he moved faster into you.

“Feels good?” You asked.

“Mmm.” He bit his lip, trying to not moan loudly.

“I asked you something.”

“You feel so good.” Eunseok’s voice was desperate, wanting to cum in you so badly but he knew he shouldn’t.

You liked how desperate he looked, finally feeling a similar dominance he’s shown. You didn’t mind him fucking you but seeing him submit and whine about needing you was a sight you’ve wanted to see for a while.

“No one knows you’re such a slut for me.” He groaned, thrusting faster into you.

Your hand moved up, lacing your fingers into his hair before gripping his scalp and pulling his down towards you.

“And no one knows you’re pussy whipped for me.”

“I could leave you like this.” He threatened.

“And you wouldn’t get to cum.”

“Fuck you.” He spat.

Eunseok sped up, pumping himself into you before rubbing your clit faster. You could barely hold your leg up, feeling your hip muscles begin to cramp.

“Eunseok, switch.”

“What?”

“I need to switch positions.”

“Fuck.”

Eunseok pulled out, seeing you pull your panties back up and turning to face the wall. Your face pressed into the wall as he pushed back in, hands holding your hips and squeezing your ass. His pace was faster, you were so close to cumming you felt your hips rocked into his before your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You bit your hand, smelling his jacket as Eunseok thrusted a few more times, feeling your walls swallow him up. He pulled out, shooting his cum into your panties before walking away. Watching you pull your panties back on and adjust your dress, he walked closer and pulled you into a kiss. You bit down onto his lip, making Eunseok pull away.

“You came in my underwear.” Your face was filled with anger.

“You said not to cum inside.”

“So you cum in my underwear?” Your voice raised lightly, making sure Eunseok heard exactly how mad you were at him.

“We should head back.” He walked out.

“You fucking dick.”

Eunseok let you catch up, leaning in to whisper, “Actually you enjoy fucking my dick.”

“And yet every time we’ve fucked it’s because you can’t stay far from me.”

You both walked away when seeing the crowds of people. You meet up with Minjeong, snacking on the food her mom made before hanging outside.

“It’s weird smelling Eunseok on you.”

You feel a shock run through your body before laughing.

“I forgot I’m wearing his jacket.” You try to play off the nervousness in your stomach.

Minjeong laughed, “How? He smells so… Eunseok.”

“When you’re forced to wear something of his you get a little nose-blind.”

Minjeong nodded.

“I’ll lend you some perfume later.”

You laughed, “Thanks.”

When it turned sunset, most of the guests began leaving, whether for work or being there long enough, you were one of the few people left.

“It’s late, don’t worry about helping us.” Her mother laughed.

“It’s really no problem.”

“Oh, here’s some extras I saved for your family. I’m not trying to push you out, but don’t worry about staying to help us.”

You took her bag of leftovers, your mom did love her cooking, “Thank you.”

“Ah, Eunseok.” His mother called, “Could you drive y/n home.”

“That’s not necessary, mrs.-”

“It’s fine, let me get my keys.” Eunseok said.

You noticed Minjeong give him a suspicious look. You followed Eunseok towards the door as you both left.

“You really don’t have to.”

“It’s not a problem.”

You stayed silent, walking towards his car before getting in. The drive was relatively quiet, just the sound of the tired moving onto the road as he drove the short distance to your house. He parked in your driveway, your parents must still be working with how empty it is.

“Can I come inside?”

“You ask that question a lot.”

“Fuck off, you’ve only ever let Minjeong inside your house.”

“You’ve never cared to come by before.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbing at the bag of food.

“Sure.” You stepped out of his car.

Eunseok followed you, watching you unlock your front door and letting him inside. He wasn’t sure what the inside of your house was supposed to look like, he just knew Minjeong hung out here a lot. You walked to your kitchen to set the food down, walking back to Eunseok as he looked around.

“Do you like the decor?” You asked.

Eunseok let out an airy laugh, “It’s not terrible.”

You remembered you were wearing his jacket still, pulling it off before attempting to hand it to him.

“Can I see your room?”

His question surprised you.

“Why would you care what my room looks like.”

“You’ve been in mine a few times.”

“Not voluntarily.” You deadpanned.

“Y/n.”

“Fine, follow.”

He followed you towards your room, taking note of the wall decor around your hallways. Opening your door for him, Eunseok was almost surveying your room. Noting your posters, closet, bookshelf. Looking for the little things he could to understand you better. What color sheets you had, what plushies decorated your room, the books on your desk and in your bookshelf.

“Are you looking for something?” You asked.

“You’ve seen my room, I just wanted to see what stuff you had.”

“Never payed attention to your room, you usually try to put your dick in me before I can see anything.”

“That’s not true.” He laughed.

“I know you have a bed.” You thought for a second, “A closet. Maybe a computer?”

“You’ve never paid attention?”

“Your room was usually dark and you were putting your dick in me.”

You moved beside him, “What did you want to see. My copy of Pride and Prejudice?”

Eunseok faux laughed before pulling you into a kiss. His lips moved against yours slowly, feeling you and taking in the moment.

“Ah, you want to fuck me in my room now.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

He guided the two of you towards your bed. Leaning over you as you sat down and crawling on top. His hand moved down to feel at your breasts, groping them. His thumbs grazed your shoulders and hooking into the fabric before pulling it down.

Eunseok’s face moved down, kissing your neck and sternum before latching into your nipple. You sighed at the feeling of his lips on you. Your hand lacing into his hair as he pressed your boobs together, tongue dragging across both nipples before sucking them into his mouth.

“Can I take your dress off?”

You nodded, leaning up to unzip your dress and pull it off. Eunseok grabbed into your hips, gripping a fabric to pull it down, feeling your hips lift to help him. Seeing your stomach exposed, he realized he’s never seen your body in any good lighting. Seeing your skin how it should be seen.

Eunseok leaned in and kissed down your stomach, his hands holding your hips where your panties hung. He kissed over the fabric, thumb stretching over to rub your clit as your hips thrusted forward.

“You should be moving faster if you don’t want them to be suspicious.”

Eunseok looked up at you, seeing your brows scrunched in need and chest rising.

“I can come up with something.”

He pulled your underwear down, tossing it to the side before opening your thighs and leaning in. His fingers wrapped around your thigh and circled your clit, tongue lapping at your core. You relaxed into your bed, hips rocking against his mouth as he continued rubbing your clit. You were surprised, he’d usually have something to snap at you with but right now he’s just eagerly pleasuring you.

Seeing you in better lighting, Eunseok can see when your high is approaching far better. Watching your muscles tense and flex as he applied more pressure, watching you freeze and cum on his tongue. Eunseok crawled up, kissing your skin and leaving small, wet kisses before holding your face. Kissing you, you groaned at the taste of yourself, it was more pleasant than his cum but still foreign to you.

“Wanna ride?” He asked.

“Not really.”

You grabbed at his shirt, pulling it over his head before he started removing his pants. His dick was red, far redder than you’ve seen before. His precum was leaking everywhere as he pulled you to sit up.

“Can you please ride me?”

“Sure,” You caved in, “but tell me when you’re gonna cum, I still don’t want your cum in me.”

Eunseok laid against your pillow, it was far softer than his. Your whole bed was softer, your skin was softer, your hair was softer, even your insides felt soft.

“You okay?” You asked, hovering over his dick.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

You sunk down, feeling his dick fill you up. His eyes were stuck on the sight of your pussy swallowing him up, his hands gripping your hips tighter the lower you got. You held yourself up by his chest, Eunseok’s eyes watching your breasts push together as you slowly bounce up and down his length.

“Like the view?”

“Fuck off.” He spat.

His head fell back onto your pillow, feeling so good while your pussy was practically suctioning him up. The rhythmic tensing of your walls, squeezing and relaxing against his sore dick felt too good.

“Y/n.” He groaned, his hands gripping you tighter.

“Are you gonna cum already?”

“Go faster.”

“Why don’t you move? You’ve done it before.”

Eunseok glared at you, even in the midst of pleasure you find a way to sass him. His legs shifted, moving to thrust his hips into yours while you rode him. Hearing your sighs and watching you adjust to lean over him made Eunseok feel even better.

“Move up here.” He said.

“Why you wanna kiss me?”

“Get up here.”

You leaned down, shifting to lay closer to his face as he held you in place to kiss. Your forearm leaned beside his head, feeling his hand cradle your face as his hips stuttered and began thrusting faster.

“Mmm, I’m gonna cum.” You said, feeling Eunseok pull you closer.

He continued pumping into you, rolling you onto your side as he lifted your leg.

“Keep going.”

“Can I cum in you?”

“Eunseok.”

“Please, just once.”

You were so close, rubbing your clit as you felt your orgasm approach.

“Fuck, fine. You can cum in me.”

“Fuck.” He moaned.

Eunseok rolled you onto your back, hips crashing into yours even faster. He grabbed your hip to lift your lower half in the air, your legs locking together behind him as he pressed himself deep inside you.

Your fingers rubbed your clit and slowly felt your walls clench around him. You could feel his dick twitch inside you, your walls milking him as he came. You stayed there, both catching your breath while feeling for each other’s warmth.

“That felt good, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, that was really good.”

Eunseok pulled out, watching the small trail of cum leak out of you before grabbing his clothes. You both dressed, a little more quietly than before.

Standing, “I can see myself out.”

“Oh,” You moved to grab his jacket, “don’t forget-”

“Keep it.”

“Eunseok.” You warned.

“You left something for me, I’ll leave something for you.”

You scoffed,

‘He did remember.’

[bubblesoflou]

lullaby...

( 𝑤. )⠀fluff and a slice of life.

a lullaby for the hearts that never learned to rest.

It was Friday night. In the baby's room, a soft lullaby played. Kaiser leaned against the pale beige wall, his shadow stretched by the warm light, blue eyes locked on your every move.

You rocked the baby gently, caressing his chubby little face, adjusting the rhythm of your “shhh” . Still, the sleepy-eyed little one kept his gaze wide open. With a tired sigh, your eyes searched for Kaiser's.

“Love...” you whispered.

“Hmm?" he murmured, turning his face slightly. He didn’t want to startle the baby, so his voice was low.

Taking a few quiet steps forward, you held the baby out to him.

“I need to use the bathroom. Can you try...?” you asked, voice a little uncertain. You knew he was a bit hesitant, but you'd been trying to ignore the discomfort in your bladder for nearly an hour.

His brows furrowed slightly, hesitation drawing soft lines across his handsome face. Still, Kaiser reached out with that same ceremonious care as always and took his son into his arms.

“Thank you. I’ll be right back.” you said, kissing his cheek before slipping out of the room.

He looked down at the little one, eyes slightly wide, breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t quite explain it, but it always felt like the baby just… didn’t like him very much. Or at least not as much as he liked you. So Kaiser kept a respectful distance, invisible boundaries intact. He half-expected the baby to burst into tears as soon as he was in his arms — he was ready for another round of crying — but this time, the room stayed quiet.

“Hey, little guy… you should be sleeping.” he said softly, leaning down.

The three-month-old babbled something, his tiny chubby hands reaching forward. When one of them grabbed a strand of Kaiser's hair, he blinked in surprise.

“You like that too, huh?" he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Your mom loves wasting time braiding it... I hate it, of course, but she enjoys herself.”

Then came a laugh — a soft, unexpected baby giggle. A real laugh! Michael Kaiser nearly choked on air, startled.

“So that’s it? Hair was the key to your heart?” he muttered, not minding the tugs one bit. “Okay, deal… you get to hold on if you fall asleep. Sound good?”

The baby seemed pleased with the deal and nestled his cheek against his father’s chest, never letting go of the hair. In that moment, Kaiser's heart skipped a beat. His eyes filled with something warm and unfamiliar as he began to sway slowly side to side, feet sinking into the soft carpet.

Without even realizing, he started humming a lullaby — part real, part made up — and soon the baby’s giggles faded into a sleepy yawn. From the crack in the doorway, you watched with a soft smile. Quietly, you stepped away to give them a little more time.

Not long after, the baby fell sound asleep in his father's arms. The strand of hair had slipped from the now-limp fingers, but Kaiser still leaned over the crib, even after laying him down. Gently, he ran his fingers over the baby’s head, as if trying to shield him from all the bad in the world.

As he left the room on light feet, Kaiser covered his face with trembling hands. His lips were tight, eyes filled with tears — the bitterness in his chest clashing with the quiet certainty that he’d never be like the man who brought him into this world.

When you found him in the hallway, your hands reached for his tense shoulders. He looked at you, those blue pools close to overflowing.

“It’s okay… You’re nothing like him. You never will be.” you whispered, holding him with love and care.

Kaiser leaned his head on your shoulder, his body giving way to a broken sob. And there, in the safety of your arms, he let the tears come — for the first time, allowing the pain to start letting go.

[fireside-fanfics]

Still Standing

content warnings: body image issues; negative self-image; post-injury recovery; mentions of scars and surgery; trauma-related emotional distress; emotional vulnerability; emotional comfort; references to an accident; mild PTSD implications; mild nudity (non-sexual)

Friday nights at Josie’s were supposed to be a release. A place where the weight of the week could be shaken off, where exhaustion could be softened by laughter, drinks, and familiar faces. You laughed with Karen and Gabriela, clinked bottles, sang karaoke with Matt—his off-key warble so bad it looped around into charming. And Frank—Frank had sat beside you in your usual shadowy corner booth, a quiet wall of presence and warmth. He never talked much when you were out, just let his hand rest on your thigh or the back of your neck, anchoring you without needing to say a word.

But the ease you felt in the bar was gone now, dissolved like cheap lipstick wiped clean. You stood in the bedroom in silence, the lights low, your breath shallow. The bathroom behind you still hummed with the steam of Frank’s shower, the mirror half-fogged. You tried not to look—but your eyes betrayed you. The outline of your body, blurred and damp, stared back from the glass. You hadn’t meant to notice, but you did. Your waist. Your thighs. The softness of your stomach. None of it looked the way it had six months ago.

You left the bathroom without a word, shutting the door softly behind you and moving toward the dresser like it might offer a distraction. Your fingers searched until they found it—one of Frank’s black long-sleeve shirts. The same one you used to steal during those first few weeks when you were still dancing around what you meant to each other. It had always swallowed you whole. Now, as you tugged it on, it hugged your arms. The hem barely grazed your hips.

Your hand trembled slightly as you tugged the hem down. You turned sideways and stared—watched yourself shift, measured the distance between who you’d been and who stood here now. A scar peeked out from your collarbone—healed, but angry and raised. Another one laced across your right knee, the site of a reconstructive surgery you hadn’t wanted but had been necessary after the failed raid in an abandoned Brooklyn warehouse six months ago.

You could still hear the crack of steel giving way. You could still remember everyone shouting for you on the comms, but Frank’s voice was most clear—he was panicked, then terrifyingly silent. You’d been buried under wreckage for thirteen minutes before he pulled you out with his own bleeding hands.

You’d been out of commission ever since. You were forced to work from a computer for six months. Six months. Six months of rehabilitating your right side that had been crushed. Six months of watching your team go out on calls without you. Six months of feeling like you were failing yourself, your body, your job, your team, your community…

Six months of watching your strength fade while your body fought just to heal. Six months of telling yourself it was fine—that it was temporary. But seeing it—really seeing it—cracked something open. Tears rose, sudden and sharp. You wondered how so much had changed without you noticing. Your eyes noticed the tremor in your right hand, trailed down over the exposed scar on your right knee, and noticed the scar from your shoulder surgery peaking out of the shirt collar. 

When did things change this much? you wondered to yourself. You didn't hear the water stop or the bathroom door open.

“Hey. You hear me?” Frank’s voice came low, rough from steam and quiet concern.

You startled, turned toward him too fast. The tears gave you away instantly. Frank stood with just a towel wrapped around his hips, steam curling from his damp hair, a slight crease forming between his brows. His expression shifted, worry etched into the lines of his face immediately. He crossed the room in three steps, barefoot, his shirt damp against his skin, eyes locked on yours.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice softening as he came to stand in front of you.

You shook your head and mumbled, “It’s nothing … it’s stupid…”

Frank wasn’t buying it—of course he wasn’t—he knew you too well. He had known you since day one of basic training. You stood shoulder-to-shoulder for the first time when the squad list was read for the first time. Castle, then yours. In the moment, all you shared was a simple nod: professional, curious, the kind of silent agreement you didn’t forget. And from that first muddy, punishing drill onward, you’d fallen into rhythm.

It was a partnership with no learning curve. You didn’t need to tell him where to go. He didn’t need to ask what you were thinking. Your bodies moved like a two-man unit wired from the inside out. You back his blind spots in hand-to-hand. He’d pivot instinctively when You shifted. You’d pass live-fire exercises with eerie synchronicity—trading mags mid-sprint, anticipating cover like you shared one brain.

Your squad didn’t understand it. Some whispered, some scoffed. A few tried to wedge themselves between you during drills … but no one could recreate it. The rhythm was all yours; earned in sweat and bruises and broken-down bones. And then, in time, respect followed. Frank never talked much back then either, but you always knew what he meant. When you stitched each other up. When you sat on rooftops post-mission sharing silence and cigarettes. When you caught him watching you with an intensity that made you forget how to breathe.

His family had seen it too—before the world went sideways. Maria had once told you, wine glass in hand, “He’s never opened up to anyone the way he does with you.” You shrugged, a faint smile on your face as you whispered, “That’s just how he is...” And you hadn’t just been there for Frank. You loved his kids like they were your own. From dance recitals to soccer games to sleepover duty, you were part of their lives before you ever admitted what Frank meant to you out loud.

And when his world burned to ash, you didn’t hesitate. You walked into that grief with him. No questions. No escape hatch. Just him. Always him. Now, here he was, standing in front of you, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to meet his eyes.

“It’s stupid,” you repeated, voice cracking.

“Try me, baby,” Frank assured you, his hands settled on your arms. Calloused fingers drag up and down your arms, a steady rhythm that grounds you.

You hesitated. Then, in one quick breath: “I’ve gained weight.”

“Okay…” He blinked almost like the words hadn’t truly reached his ears.

“This shirt”—you gestured towards your frame—“it used to hang off me … but now it fits like it was made for me not you. And I didn’t even see it happening until tonight…”

Your voice faltered, then faded, and the tears came without restraint. He cupped your face in both hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the streaks on your cheeks. Your shoulders dropped as the tension melted from your body, and you leaned into his touch, letting yourself soften completely against him.

Your throat tightened, but you found the words anyway—barely above a whisper.

“I feel like I let myself go,” you breathed.

Frank was quiet for a moment. His hands settled on your waist with deliberate gentleness. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. In fact, his eyes never left yours.

“You didn’t let anything go, baby girl,” he replied, voice even, grounding. “You got hurt and you healed. That’s what your body was doing all this time—keeping you alive … helping you come back from something that should’ve taken you out.”

You started to scoff, but he caught it before it could leave your throat. A quiet tsk left him, and your gaze snapped up to meet his gaze, your eyes wide, caught in the way he looked at you—like you were still whole.

“You think I give a damn about a number on a scale?” Frank asked. “Do you think any part of this”—his hand tugged lightly at the shirt you wore—“matters more than the fact that you’re still here?”

You blinked, tears slipping free again. His thumbs stroked slow circles on your hips, soothing, certain.

“You think I don’t see you?” he murmured. “I see everything—every damn inch of you—and not one part of you disappoints me.”

You broke then, a soft sob curling in your chest as you leaned into him, arms winding around his torso like the earth might fall out from under you without him. His chin rested on your head, hands steady at your back. He let you cry and held you like he always did—like nothing else in the world could get to you here.

“You don’t feel like yourself right now,” he said softly, “and that’s okay. We’ll get you back. Whatever that takes. Whatever you need. I’m not going anywhere, baby girl.”

You sniffled, nodding against his chest. Frank pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up. His expression was softer than anyone else ever saw it.

“And for the record…” He smirked faintly. “I was hoping you’d wear this shirt tonight.”

You let out a teary laugh, shaking your head. He leaned in, forehead pressing gently against yours.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “Always.”

And in that moment, the fear eased—not gone but quiet, muted. Held in the arms of a man who had stood beside you in war, in grief, and now—in this. You weren't where you wanted to be, but you weren't alone. And with Frank Castle beside you, you never would be.

[malsmind]

𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

⤷ ⋆ fingering ⋆ pussy eating ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ mild overstimulation ⋆ pet names ⋆ praising ⋆

𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦!

you were scrolling aimlessly on your phone, legs tangled up in the blankets, barely acknowledging the sound of the bathroom door creaking open. a moment later, matt flopped down beside you with a low, satisfied grunt—shirtless, damp, towel slung haphazardly over his hips, hair still dripping wet.

“you took forever,” you muttered, not looking up.

he rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow beside you with a groan. “water felt nice.”

you smiled a little, but the comfort was short-lived, because a second later his arm draped across your stomach, pulling you close, his cold hand brushing your side.

“matt!” you jerked slightly. “your hands are cold.”

“yeah,” he said, voice muffled and lazy, “so are my fingers. warm ’em up f’me.”

you blinked. and then—

“wait, matt—!”

but his fingers were already there. already slipping under the waistband of your shorts, cold tips brushing over your clit with a featherlight stroke that made your breath catch.

“oh—fuck,” you gasped, body tensing for a second before melting again.

“mmm,” he hummed, still nuzzled into the pillows.

his hand moved slowly at first—lazy, almost innocent. then his fingers dipped lower, slipping between your folds, spreading your slick with a deliberate kind of teasing that sent a jolt through your spine. when one curled up inside you, slow and deep, you moaned, hips twitching against his hand.

“baby,” you panted, “you didn’t have to use an excuse to finger me, y’know that, right?”

he chuckled. you felt the breath of it against your shoulder.

“and where’d be the fun in that?” he murmured, voice thick, his pace already picking up.

his fingers moved with that perfect rhythm—like he knew your body better than you did. curling just right, dragging over that sweet, tender spot with every thrust, his palm grinding against your clit in slow, heavy strokes. you whimpered, thighs shifting. he moved with you—never letting up, never breaking rhythm. then he lifted his head from the pillow and kissed your neck. slow, open-mouthed kisses, soft and wet. he trailed lower, over your collarbone, down between your breasts, and further still—his mouth moving with the same lazy determination as his fingers.

your shirt was pushed up in the process. your shorts shoved down halfway as he kissed lower, and lower. his fingers slowed just as his face hovered over your soaked heat. and then—his tongue swiped over your clit in a firm, deliberate stroke. your whole body jumped.

“fuck, matt—”

he groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. his stubble scratched against your inner thighs in the best way—rough, delicious, grounding. and his mouth? his mouth was merciless.

his tongue flicked over your clit in tight, fast circles, sucking it gently, then harder. you moaned—loud. head tipped back, fingers buried in his hair, thighs twitching. trying to close around him. but his hands came up fast—strong and sure—pinning your thighs open with a firm grip.

“keep ’em open,” he murmured against you. “or I’ll stop.”

your chest heaved. “can’t—it’s too much—”

he looked up, mouth still wet, lips shiny. “then look at me while you cum.”

you forced yourself to look. to watch. and it ruined you. watching his mouth work your body like he owned it, watching the way his tongue moved—fast and relentless—while his fingers curled inside you harder, faster. your stomach clenched, breath coming in short, gasping bursts.

“matt—i’m gonna—”

“yeah, you are,” he growled, eyes locked on yours. “attagirl. cum on my fingers.”

and you did. you came hard, thighs shaking around his head, mouth falling open in a cry. your hand pushed at his hair—instinctive, helpless—but he didn’t stop. his tongue kept working you through it. steady. greedy. like he needed to taste every drop. his grip didn’t loosen, not even as you whined and squirmed and tried to twist away from the oversensitivity.

“t-too much,” you whimpered. “fuck, too much—”

but he just hummed against you, fingers still curled deep inside, dragging every last aftershock out of you until your whole body was twitching and spent.

finally—finally—he pulled back, mouth slick, eyes heavy-lidded and proud as hell. you lay there, chest heaving, unable to move. he climbed back up beside you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, then finally your lips. you tasted yourself on his mouth.

“good?” he murmured.

you swallowed. “your hands still cold?”

“not anymore.”

he grinned. “thanks for the help.”

[lee-laurent]

The Heat in Hampton

Summary: Natalia and Quinn have a summer fling in the Hamptons.

content: alcohol, drug use (smoking weed), angst, implied smut

wc: 9.5k

notes: new fic!! this isn't the one i had planned to come out first, but it ended up coming to me more easily so here it is! not proofread, so sorry if there are any mistakes! enjoyyy!! more fics to come

The mini champagne bottle popped like a gunshot, and Riley screamed even though she was the one holding it.

"Jesus," Zoey laughed from the backseat, shielding her phone with one hand as she tried to film the moment without soaking it in sticky bubbles. "Point it away from my face next time, psycho."

Claressa (better known as Essa), in the driver's seat, didn't flinch. She turned the music up instead. The windows were down, the salty air pouring in, and the sun was low but blinding over the ocean. Natalia tipped her head back against the seat, sunglasses sliding down her face, a lazy half-smile forming on her lips.

They were almost there.

The Hamptons surrounded them, hedges and gravel driveways, shops with names that just made it obvious they were expensive, couples in tennis whites crossing the street even as traffic moved toward them. Natalia let it all pass by like she wasn't really seeing it, just another summer town. But the second the car turned onto the long driveway leading up to her parents' summer house, her chest twinged with something. Excitement, missed with a splash of nostalgia.

"We made it!" Riley said, raising her now half-empty bottle. "To a summer of mistakes but no regrets!"

"Regrets are character-building," Claressa muttered, but raised her water bottle anyway.

Natalia gave a half-hearted cheer and twisted the volume down. "Let's not get too dramatic on the first day."

"Oh, shut up," Zoey said, reaching over the console to grab some tissues. "You love this shit."

Natalia didn't argue. She just grabbed her bag from the floor and shoved the car door open.

Inside, the house was all polished wood floors and linen everything. It smelled faintly of fresh laundry and Natalia felt something in her shift, the weird click in her brain that always happened when she walked into the house. She hadn't been there since the summer before, but nothing had changed. Not the shell-shaped soap in the bathrooms or the white curtains that always fluttered too much when the windows were open. It was curated serenity. Her mom's aesthetic.

Riley immediately dropped her duffel bag in the entryway and kicked off her sandals. "Same rooms?"

"No," Zoey said, already making a beeline for the biggest bedroom upstairs. "I'm claiming the one with the balcony this year. I need room for my morning stretch. And fresh air is, like, good for a soul."

"You're disgusting," Claressa called after her, following more slowly with both bags in hand.

Nat hung back, letting them all scatter, and took a slow lap around the kitchen. The same bowl of fake, styrofoam lemons on the counter. The wine fridge humming quietly. She opened the sliding glass doors that led to the pool deck and stepped outside, bare feet hitting the warm tile.

The pool sparkled in the light. Somehow clean, as if it hadn't been a week since her parents had last been there.

~~

By the time they'd all picked rooms and dumped out their overpacked bags, it was late afternoon. The sun stretched lazily over the backyard, and the girls were spread out on lounge chairs in bikinis that covered nothing, drinks in hand, music playing through a Bluetooth speaker.

Riley scrolled through her camera roll, deleting doubles from the drive. "Okay, my hair is like glowing in this one. Like, should I just go blonde for real?"

"Do it," Zoey said, already lighting up a joint with a practiced flick. "Blondes get away with more."

Claressa side-eyed her from behind oversized sunglasses. "You're literally brunette."

"Yeah, and I don't get away with jackshit."

Natalia snorted and took a sit of her spritz. She was in her favourite black bikini, the one that made her look like she had more curves than she did, stretched long on the lounger like she didn't have a worry in the world. But her phone buzzed against her thigh, and she peeked at it.

U in town??

Last summer's mistake. Cute, tall, zero personality.

She didn't respond.

"Who's that?" Riley asked, peering over.

"No one."

"Liar."

Nat shrugged. "Just someone trying to be a plotline again."

Claressa laughed. "That's a new one."

"Is it, though?" Natalia tilited her sunglasses down. "It's always the same shit."

The girls all nodded. It was true. It happened every summer.

~~

Later, they dragged patio cushions into a circle and passed around Zoey's joint until the sun finally dipped below the trees. Someone opened a regular-sized bottle of champagne. Someone else had put on a new playlist. Nat leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the darkening sky, breathing in the fresh air.

"This summer," Riley announced, "we are NOT falling for anyone. Not even a little bit."

"Speak for yourself," Zoey said, but without much heat.

"No," Nat said, and the others looked over. "She's right. We're not doing that shit again."

"No drama."

"Just tan lines and too much booze," Riley echoed, then raised a brow at Nat. "And maybe try not to ruin any lives this time?"

"I didn't ruin any lives," Natalia rolled her eyes.

Zoey let out a cackle. "Bullshit, Nat. You need to come with a fucking disclaimer. Warning: She's not actually into you at all."

Nat flipped her off in response.

By nine, the buzz had faded and they were all pulling clothes from their half-unpacked bags and digging for makeup.

"Where are we even going?" Essa asked from the bathroom, swiping gloss on her bottom lip.

"Montauket," Riley said, pulling a tiny skirt over her hips. "That rooftop bar with the ocean view? It's supposed to be packed on weekends."

Nat leaned over the bathroom sink, curling her lashes in the mirror. "Packed with who, though?"

"Rich boys who know how to lie," Zoey said, voice muffled as she changed behind the door.

"Perfect," Nat said dryly. She wasn't even sure she felt like going out. But it was tradition, and traditions had a way of pulling her in.

She added one final coat of mascara and stepped back, giving herself a once-over. The mirror reflected back a version of herself she knew well--sparkling eyes, glossed lips, tanned skin, a shirt that made her tits look amazing.

Summer Natalia.

The one who regretted nothing until the end of the trip.

She tucked her lip gloss into her bra and turned to the others. "Let's go have some fun!"

Zoey grinned. "Let's get fucked up!"

~~

Montauket was already packed by the time the girls got there. Bass-heavy music spilled out from the rooftop, shaking the strings of lights that hung overhead. The crowd was pressed tight at the bar, the humidity from the summer air making everything that much warmer.

Natalia adjusted the strap on her low-backed shirt as they climbed the steps. The fabric clung to her, the fabric of her jean skirt riding up her thighs with each stair. She sipped from her margarita the second it was handed to her, the salt rim already sticky from condensation.

The rooftop shimmered. Partly the heat, partly the alcohol. Groups were laughing too loudly, people leaning in too closely. Somewhere behind her, Zoey was ordering shots. Essa scanned the patio like she was on a mission. Riley had already disappeared into the crowd.

Nat was trying to take it all in, leaning against the railing, letting the burn of the tequila cut through the sugar in her drink. She liked people watching when they weren't looking back.

That's when she saw him.

He wasn't the type you noticed right away. He wasn't loud or trying. That's what caught her off guard. There was something about the way he stood, shoulders relaxed, chin tilted slightly as he listened to one of his friends. He had a beer in his hand, but it was more like a prop, like drinking it wasn't the point.

Brown hair that curled slightly at the ends. A white t-shirt and a Yankees cap. Athletic, but not showy. She couldn't see him perfectly, but she could tell from the conversation around him that he didn't feel the need to say much.

He looked... calm. Unbothered. And completely at ease.

He was surrounded by people. Two other guys that she clocked immediately as brothers, one with the same jawline but louder, the other a little younger, bouncing on his heels like he couldn't sit still. A couple more circled the edges: tall, cocky, all expensive sneakers and smirks.

She took another sip of her margarita. "Boys," she mumbled under her breath.

"See something you like?" Essa appeared at her side, a vodka soda in hand, smirking.

"Just people-watching."

"Uh-huh." Essa tilted her head. "You mean the quiet one?"

Nat just shrugged, her friends knew her too well.

It was Claressa who made the first move. She always did. She weaved through the crowd with ease, and by the time Natalia caught up, she was already talking to the group. Easily, like she wasn't surrounded by six boys who looked like they belonged in a GQ spread.

"--your tables in our spot," she was saying, cocking a brow as if it was her bar, not just a place she'd had to Google the hours of.

The loudest of the three brothers, Jack, Natalia would later learn, laughed like it was the best pickup line he'd ever heard. "Then I guess we owe you a drink."

"Or three," Zoey said, sliding in with her tray of shots like she'd been summoned.

"Fuck it," another guy said... Alex, maybe? "Let's merge."

And just like that, the night shifted.

Their groups blended together seamlessly. Essa and Jack were already halfway through some sort of debate about the best bars on Long Island. Zoey lit a cigarette for someone she hadn't even introduced herself to. Luke, the youngest one, was trying to explain something to Riley she definitely wasn't sober enough to remember.

Natalia, meanwhile, found herself across from him.

The quiet one.

He wasn't trying to talk to her. But every time she looked up, he was there. Watching, not staring. Clocking everything and saying nothing.

Eventually, he moved closer, just enough to make it obvious.

She glanced at him over the rim of her drink. "You're not much of a talker, huh?"

He shrugged. "Not when I don't have anything to say."

She hadn't expected him to sound like that. Low, but not shy.

"But when you do?"

His lips curved into a half-smile. "Then I say it."

Nat leaned herself more on the table. "What's your name?"

"Quinn."

Simple.

"I'm Natalia."

He nodded like he already knew.

She raised a brow. "You come here a lot, Quinn?"

"First time."

"Ah, so you're just winging it?"

He looked around the chaos of their joined group and then back at her. "Seems like it's working out."

She smiled into her drink. "You don't seem like a Montauket kind of guy."

"What kind of guy do I seem like?"

She tilted her head, studying him. "Hmm. The kind who watches everyone else go before he jumps in."

"And you're the kind who likes to be watched?"

She didn't flinch, just held his gaze. "Sometimes."

The air between them shifted. The kind that filled her chest without warning.

He didn't move closer, didn't reach out, but his eyes didn't waver from hers, either.

"Party's this weekend," Natalia said, as casually as she could, even though her pulse was suddenly in her throat.

Quinn's lip quirked up.

"At our place," she clarified. "We throw one every summer. Well... several. This is just the first."

"Is that an invitation?"

She shrugged. "Could be."

"Then I guess we'll be there."

He didn't ask where. Didn't ask when. Just said it like it was fact.

Natalia held her gaze for a few seconds longer than she needed to, then turned to help Zoey steal fries off one of the guys' plate.

When she eventually glanced back to Quinn, he was still there, watching the chaos.

But this time... with a smile on his face.

~~

Nat stood in front of the mirror, squinting at her reflection like it might offer some kind of clarity.

"I hate everything I brought," she said, even though she'd tried on three different dresses and looked good in all of them.

"You say that every year," Essa called from the hallway. "And every year, you end up in something that makes people fall for you."

Natalia rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She tugged the second dress back over her head, adjusting it so that it clung to her in all the right places. She didn't do a full face of makeup. Mascara, a swipe of bronzer, and a cherry stain on her lips that made it look like she'd already kissed someone.

She touseled her curls with her fingers, debating whether to tame the frizz, then let them be. It was summer, the heat was going to make them messy.

From the other room, she heard the screen door slam and Riley yell, "Okay but if your Montauket guy doesn't show up, you have to do a shot with me!"

"He's not mine," Natalia said, stepping out into the hall.

Riley grinned. "Didn't say he was. But he did eye-fuck you from across the bar for like, forty-five minutes."

Zoey passed her four shot glasses in hand. "That's basically foreplay for straight men."

Natalia took one of the glasses and tossed it back, the burn sliding down her throat. "We talked for five minutes."

Essa's brows shot up as she walked past with a bundle of string lights. "And you invited him to our first party of the summer. That's not nothing."

"It's a party," Nat said. "I invited their whole group."

"Yeah," Zoey said, grinning. "And I don't even remember any of their names except Jack, because he wouldn't shut up."

Nat walked to the back doors and pushed them open. The sun was still setting, streaking the sky in orange. The pool shimmered, speakers blasted music, fairy lights were strung everywhere, coolers on the glass, patio chairs scattered everywhere.

It was perfect.

Somewhere across town, Quinn was staring into the fridge.

"Okay, but do we actually know where this party is?" Alex asked, tossing a ping pong ball at the kitchen wall.

Jack sprawled on the couch with a beer balanced on his chest. "The one girl said it's off Montauk Highway, past the beach club, second right after the white fence."

"That is a terrible set of directions," Trevor said, snatching the ball mid-air. "We're gonna get kidnapped."

"We're going," Jack declared, sitting up. "I didn't flirt my way through some aggressively competitive conversation about Long Island just to skip this."

Luke was already in a linen shirt and cologne that reeked of something way too expensive for a twenty-one-year-old. "We're absolutely going."

Quinn leaned against the kitchen counter, quietly unscrewing the cap of his water bottle. He hadn't said much all day. He'd gone on a run that morning, scrolled through Spotify for too long trying to find a playlist that matched the weird feeling in his chest.'

And now, standing barefoot in a kitchen full of idiots, he wasn't thinking about the party.

He was thinking about her.

Natalia. The girl who hadn't asked a single thing about him except his name, but already seemed like she knew him. She was the kind of pretty that made you look twice. The kind you didn't bother to chase because you already knew she wouldn't wait for you.

"You coming, Q?" Jack asked, cracking open another beer.

Quinn shrugged. "Guess so."

"You guess?" Luke said. "That girl was hot. Like dangerously hot."

"You guys are embarrassing," Quinn muttered, walking past them.

He disappeared into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror, thinking for a second.

Then he grabbed his cologne.

~~

People started to spill in, some invited, some not, but no one cared. The speakers blasted a mix of 2000s throwbacks and remixes. Someone was already in the pool, red cups were appearing in everyone's hands like magic.

The girls were in motion, half-hosting, half-partying. Zoey was mixing drinks like a mad scientist while Riley took shots with some girls she swore she knew from somewhere.

Meanwhile, Nat was floating between groups, trying to keep cool, her curls brushing her bare shoulders. She smiled when she had to, took shots when they were handed to her. But every time someone new walked through the gate, she felt it in her spine.

Why are so obsessed? she asked herself. What are you hoping for?

The last time she'd hoped for a guy, it ended with him telling her you're not enough in a hundred different ways without ever saying the actual words in a voicemail she never returned. She still couldn't listen to certain songs without thinking of him and feeling stupid.

She didn't do that anymore. Now it was hookups, party boys, summer flings. Clean cut lines with simple endings.

She sipped from her glass and watched the lights flicker against the water. Then she saw him.

He came in behind Jack and Luke, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn't sure if this was the right place. He scanned the yard, then his eyes landed on her... and stopped.

Their eyes locked.

His shoulders relaxed, like making eye contact with her confirmed something for him.

Game on.

Natalia held his gaze, before Riley sidled up beside her, whispering, "Well, looks like your boy did show up after all."

~~

It was hot, like way too hot for how dark it was outside, and everyone smelled like bug spray and sweat. Jack had taken his shirt off and was mid-dance with with Zoey near the edge of the pool, both of them laughing way too hard to be sober. Luke was climbing onto a raft with beer in hand and zero concern for personal safety.

Nat laughed when Riley shrieked, stumbling back in her platform sandals as Luke splashed water at her. But Nat's eyes still managed to find Quinn.

He hadn't moved much.

He was standing near the bar now, talking to Alex and some guy she didn't know, but his eyes were on every time she looked. But she wasn't going to crack first.

She was the host. She was busy.

Well... sort of.

Inside the house, Essa was weaving through the crowd with a seltzer can in hand.

"Stop moving the speaker," she snapped at a guy she vaguely recgonized from last summer. "Seriously. It's not yours."

Trevor popped up beside her with a lazy grin and a half-empty beer. "I was just about to come find you."

"I'm busy," she said without missing a beat.

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"You look good tonight."

"Thank you," she said, finishing her drink and immediately looking for another one. "Still not interested."

"Playing hard to get?"

"No. Just... not playing."

Trevor smirked and stepped aside, letting her pass. She didn't bother hiding her eye roll.

Nat handed someone a bottle opener, smiled at a group of friends-of-friends who were complimenting the setup, and gave a half-hearted thank you to a guy who told her she looked incredible.

She didn't care.

She could feel Quinn somewhere nearby. She wasn't going to look. She wasn't going to search.

But then he was there. Close.

She turned slightly, pretending to reach for a napkin, and brushed his arm.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he looked down at her, eyes catching hers like a magnet.

"Is crashing parties at random girls' houses your thing?" she asked.

He smirked. "You invited me."

"You didn't exactly RSVP."

Quinn's gaze dropped to the dips in her dress, then back up. "Figured showing up was enough."

She tilted her head. "Cocky."

"You're not?"

Natalia smiled into her drink, then looked up at him again. "I'm just good at knowing when I'm wanted."

He didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched very slightly, like he was trying to hold back a smirk. He stepped a bit closer, enough that she could feel the heat of his body.

Someone bumped into her from behind, laughing loudly, and Natalia stumbled forward just slightly. Her hand landed on Quinn's arm to steady herself, letting it linger on his bicep before she removed it.

He looked down at his arm, shaking his head slightly.

"Told you," she murmured. "You like this kind of thing."

"Which kind?"

She smiled. "Girls who know what they want."

As he was about to answer, the music shifted to something slow and bass-heavy. People started to filter out onto the lawn again. She saw Zoey sitting fully on Jack's lap, gesturing wildly as she told a story.

And even if she was looking outside, Nat's entire body was tilted toward Quinn.

They weren't really talking anymore. Her breath hitched when his hand found her waist, thumb brushing the fabric of her dress like he was testing it.

She let him.

They stood like that for a few moments, the party around them, neither of them willing to break their silence.

"I'm working... hosting," she said.

"Yeah?" his voice was low. "Doing a great job."

She turned, brushing past him, shoulder grazing his chest.

"Come with me."

~~

The hallway was cooler, dimmer, and empty compared to the kitchen and living area. Natalia walked slowly, heartbeat in her throat. She glanced over her should and he was right there. Hands in his pockets, mouth parted slightly, watching her as she led the way.

They stopped halfway down the hall.

She leaned against the wall, looking up at him like she wasn't sure who was going to make the next move.

He was closer now.

She laughed, quiet and breathy, and leaned into him slightly.

"I hate how much I wanna kiss you."

Quinn didn't laugh. He just pressed forward, hand on her waist again, his other braced on the wall. Their foreheads almost touched, lips close, heat rising between them.

The first kiss hit hard.

Her back hit the wall, and his mouth was on hers, rough and urgent. Teeth, lips, a gasp of air. He kissed her like their were mid-argument and this was how they fought. Like they'd both been waiting for this moment since the night before at Montauket.

His hand slid down her back, against the curve of her spine. His mouth dropped to her jaw, his breath hot against her skin. She gasped, tightening her grip on his shirt.

Her head dropped back. "Bedroom?"

He nodded as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall without looking back.

The guest room door slammed shut behind them.'

Nat practically shoved him down toward the bed and he pulled her down with him.

Her dress was half off, straps slipping from her shoulders. She straddled him, kissing him again, even harder if that was possible.

Short breaths. Nothing slow. No teasing.

It wasn't sweet or careful. But it was good.

So good she had to catch her breath after, sweat cooling on their skin, her head against his chest.

Then Quinn shifted and she let him go.

He stood quietly, back turned, grabbing his shirt from the floor. His chest still rose and fell like he hadn't caught up yet. Natalia sat up, resting on her elbows, curls falling around her shoulders, the straps of her dress still dangling down her arms.

He didn't really look at her as he got dressed. Just pulled on his shirt, buttoned his pants. No rush, but no lingering either.

Then finally, as he reached the door, he glanced back.

Expression unreadable.

"See you back out there," he said.

Cool.

Too cool.

The door clicked shut.

Natalia exhaled slowly, dropping onto her back, arms flung out across the bed like she'd just run a marathon. Her skin still buzzed, her lips still tingled. But maybe that was just the alcohol.

But her head?

Clear.

She stared at the ceiling fan above her, let her eyes unfocus.

There wasn't any disappointment, any regret.

She felt good. Amazing, actually. Loose-limbed, a little wrecked, but centred. Like she'd scratched an itch she hadn't even realized had been burning under her skin.

She stretched once and let herself smile.

"Cool. Perfect... got exactly what I needed."

~~

The next morning, Nat padded into the kitchen, hair damp from her shower and curling at the ends. She wore an oversized shirt and her thong, legs slightly sore from last night's adventures. The memory was burned onto the back of her eyes, Quinn's hands on her hips, the feeling of his mouth on her neck.

She didn't linger on it. Just opened the fridge and grabbed the last Redbull, cracking it open and taking a long sip.

Zoey shuffled in next, wearing sunglasses and one of Riley's hoodies. She raised a hand in a half-hearted greeting and slumped into a chair.

Natatlia nodded back wordlessly.

Essa wandered in last, somehow already dressed, hair in a braid, a water bottle in hand like she hadn't had at least eight shots the night before.

"Anyone seen Riley?" she asked.

"Still in bed," Zoey muttered. "Probably died peacefully."

"Real."

They were quiet for a beat, sunlight pouring through the sliding glass door, reflecting on the water.

"So," Zoey said, snatching Essa's water. "Jack texted me."

Nat pulled a face.

"Already?" Essa asked.

Zoey smirked. "At like 3 AM. He sent a selfie of him eating cereal and said 'Wanna hang again?'"

"Men."

"I said yes."

Natalia leaned back against the counter. "So they're coming here?"

"They said they'd be free all day," Zoey replied. "I said we'd be by the pool. They're on their way."

No one objected.

The boys showed up an hour later, still looking half-asleep. Jack wore sunglasses the size of his face and immediately made a beeline for Zoey, who pretended not to be pleased.

Quinn?

Quinn didn't rush. He was in a white t-shirt and black swim trunks, hair pushed back from his forehead, that same low-key energy still around him. He nodded at the girls as he walked in, grabbing a beer from the cooler beside the bar.

He made his way to a lounger just as Riley emerged from her room, sunglasses on, sipping out of her oversized Stanley. She plopped down next to Nat, adjusting the umbrella to shield herself from the sun.

"Chicken fight," Luke declared, slapping the surface of the water.

"Oh my god," Zoey groaned, leaning into Jack. "We're not twelve."

"I'll go on top," Riley offered, already climbing into the water and onto Luke's shoulders.

Nat laughed and hopped into the water, treading gently. "Someone carry me then."

Quinn's voice was quiet but close. "I've got you."

She turned to find him behind her, hand already extended.

"You sure?"

He shrugged. "Do you trust anyone else not to drop you?"

She smirked and let him lift her, thighs over his shoulders, hands gripping his head to steady herself. His palms held her calves, warm compared to the water.

"Try not to decapitate me," he muttered.

"I'll try, but no promises," she shot back.

That earned a real laugh, rough and way too attractive.

Riley and Luke charged first, arms flailing, both laughing. Natalia braced, shifted her weight, and launched forward.

It wasn't even close.

Riley toppled instantly.

"YES!" Nat shouted, raising her arms in victory.

Quinn laughed. "Didn't even try."

She stayed perched for a second longer than she needed to, still high on the win, and his hands moved instinctively to steady her thighs. She glanced down, saw his face tilted up towards hers, smiling.

Her stomach flipped.

After the pool, everyone spread out across the deck, water dripping off their legs as they used the sun as a towel.

Quinn was sitting beside Nat, drying his hair with his t-shirt, knee bumping hers occasionally. He didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did.

Their fingers brushed once as she reached for his can to take a sip.

Nothing was said.

But at some point, they slipped inside.

It wasn't really planned. They didn't even look at each other before doing it.

The house was much cooler than the backyard. They moved through the hallway just like they had the night before. Keeping to their routine, if you could call it that, he pressed her up against the wall and kissed her hard, his hands already reaching for the bare skin of her waist.

She pulled him by the shirt, past the room they'd used the previous night and into hers, locking the door behind them.

They were in there for ten minutes, maybe less. But it was good. So good her head spun.

After, she straightened her swimsuit and slipped out first, fixing her hair in the hallway mirror.

No one asked where she'd been.

~~

That night, she couldn't sleep. She lay in bed, one leg propped up, hair still wet from the shower. Her phone was buzing with notificaitons, Instagram tags, a group chat blowing up, a vague DM from some guy she'd slept with the year before.

She ignored it all.

The only thing on her mind was Quinn.

They'd only slept together twice, but for some stupid fucking reason it didn't feel like that.

It wasn't love. God, no.

But it was something.

And it made her want to bury her face in her pillow and scream until she lost her voice. Because Natalia didn't do this. The Natalia she knew didn't think about guys she's slept with twice all day. And she was now painfully aware of it.

~~

The boys just kept showing up. Nobody minded. Luke always brought something in return for the girls letting them hang. A frisbee, a football for the pool, a watermelon. Quinn never arrived first, but he was always there eventually.

By Tuesday, it wasn't weird anymore.

By Wednesday, it was just routine.

Their morning always started slow.

Natalia would come downstairs in one of her oversized shirts, bare legs, curls pulled up off her neck, and they'd be there. Bagels on the counter and coffee brewing. Quinn would silently hand Nat a mug with the perfect amount of sugar and almond milk. Like he'd watched her do it one morning and memorized it.

She always mouthed a silent 'thank you' and took it eagerly.

By noon, they were on the back patio, feet on the furniture, passing around a joint. Essa was quick to declare herself as "supervising" and only smoked when she was tired of the peer pressure.

Nat would always sit next to Quinn, leg pressed alongside his. When he shifted, so did she. When he handed her the joint, their fingers would brush and only they could feel the little spark it set off.

They never made plans to sneak off

They just... disappeared.

It was usually mid-afternoon. Someone would be refilling the cooler or setting up a game of cards, and suddenly Nat was gone. Quinn too. No announcement, no whisper, no eye contact.

Just gone.

Once, it was one of the guest bathrooms, the door locked, the sink rattling slightly.

Another time, the pantry, her back against the shelves, granola bars falling around them, his hands lifting her up onto a stack of LaCroix.

Once, bold and stupid, it was outside behind the pool house. Too risky, but perfect. Natalia came back with her bikini strap twisted and a smug look on her face. Quinn returned a few minutes later, shirt inside out.

No one said anything. But Zoey raised both eyebrows and sipped her drink with so much judgment that Nat flipped her off on instinct.

It wasn't a secret.

They weren't together. There were no boundaries, no expectations. Just wandering hands and a magnetic pull that neithere of them was interested in fighting.

The others played along.

Sort of.

Riley would nudge Zoey every time Natalia left the room after Quinn. Luke kept making fake cough sounds when he caught them looking at each other too long. Essa watched it all with a quiet, knowing look.

"They're gonna crash and burn," she muttered once.

"Hard," Zoey agreed.

That night, they set up a movie on the projector screen in the backyard. Blankets thrown everywhere. Someone dragged out an air mattress to lay on. The firepit flickered low and bugs hummed in the trees.

Quinn ended up on Nat's left without saying a word. He settled in beside her, their arms brushing. Her breath hitched, but it was barely noticeable.

They didn't talk. Just watched the movie. She passed him popcorn. He held the bowl between them, his other hand sliding under the blanket and landed gently on her thigh.

She rested her hand on top of his.

No one could see.

And by the time the credits rolled, Natalia had her head on his shoulder. His thumb was stroking the inside of her knee in slow, absentminded motions. She pretended she didn't notice. He pretended he wasn't holding back a smirk.

They didn't kiss.

They didn't sneak away that night.

But if Nat didn't feel things like that... why did it feel like every time she looked at him, she was falling further into a bottomless pit?

~~

The sun was blaring down the day the girls hauled bags of snacks, a packed cooler, suncreen, and beach towels down to the dock behind the house. The air was warm enough that no one questioned diving into the water fully clothed if it came to it.

"This is so rich of you," Zoey said, tossing a bag of grapes onto one of the boat seats. "Like your generational wealth is showing."

Natalia grinned. "My parents call it 'coastal modesty.'"

"Gross," Essa muttered, already applying her second layer of SPF 50.

The boys showed up, loud as ever. All of the guys were booking it down the dock, except for Quinn. He was taking his sweet time. Simple black swim trucks, faded grey shirt, sunglasses pushed into his curls. He didn't say much as he climbed on board, just brushed his hand along Natalia's lower back in passing and settled near the front of the boat.

They pushed off the dock with a soft hum, the speaker was playing something rhythmic as they drifted out past the quieter homes and onto the open water.

Tubing came first. Luke had insisted.

"Fast as fuck," he demanded. "Don't hold back."

He lasted all of twenty-seven seconds before the tube flipped and sent him face-first into the lake.

They took turns--Riley and Zoey screaming the whole way, Jack staying on longer than anyone else, and Essa filming it all from her seat with running commentary.

When it was Nat's turn, she turned to Quinn, now sitting in the captain's seat, steering like it was second nature, and raised an eyebrow.

"Try to throw me," she challenged.

"You sure?" he grinned.

"Make it worth it."

He did.

Ten seconds in, she was airborne.

~~

The tubing ropes were coiled and drying. The boat rocked gently, anchored in a quieter spot, away from the buzz of jet skis and other boats. Everyone was sprawled out... on seats, on towels, on each other.

Quinn was still at the wheel, one hand resting lazily on the throttle. Natalia wandered over with a cup of something cold and slid into his lap like she'd done it before.

He didn't blink.

One arm wrapped around her waist. Her back against his chest, their bodies moving with the gentle sway of the boat. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles on the bare skin of her waist, just under the edge of her bikini top.

"What if I steer us into a dock?" she mumbled.

"I'll save us."

"You that confident?"

Quinn laughed against her shoulder, breath warm. "You're sitting in my lap. Confidence is kind of my thing right now."

She turned her head slightly, close enough that their temples touched, and whispered something he barely caught. He responded with a low chuckle, then grabbed her cup, taking a sip.

It didn't feel like flirting. It just felt right.

~~

Eventually, everyone ended up in the water... except for Nat. She stayed dry.

She lay on a towel stretched across the bow, sunglasses on, the back of her hand resting over her stomach. Her legs were damp from earlier but drying fast in the heat. The sun kissed every inch of her skin.

Quinn joined her. Just like normal, no grins, no jokes. He just lay beside her, one arm slung over his head, the other resting across her leg... fingers curled lightly around her thigh like he'd forget they were touching if he didn't.

She didn't remember falling asleep.

Only that she woke up to the gentle dip of the boat and the sound of laughter from somewhere in the water. Her mouth was dry, her body warm. And Quinn's hand was still there.

Still resting on her. Still soft and unbothered.

She shifted slightly but he didn't move.

Her head turned toward him. He looked relaxed, lips parted slightly, breathing slow.

If she hadn't known better, she would've thought they were dating.

And that thought?

Fucking terrified her.

From the back of the boat, Zoey raised her phone and snapped a picture.

Riley looked over her shoulder, squinting. "What are you doing?"

"Proof," Zoey said. "For when she lies to our faces later."

"Good call."

The shutter clicked again.

By sunset, they were back on land. Everyone was a little sun-drunk, a little dehydrated, and still riding the high of tubing. Nat didn't really speak much after her nap. She was too deep in her head.

Her lips still tasted like the drink they'd shared. Her skin still tingled where Quinn had touched her.

But the ache in her chest?

That was new.

~~

The boys' Airbnb was still half-unpacked and half-chaotic from a game of beer pong that got too competitive two nights before. Empty water bottles cluttered the counter. A beach towel had been pinned up as a curtain over the back sliding door. Someone's Zyns were sitting on the top of the toilet. But no one had the energy to ask questions about it.

Jack was pacing the living room, shirtless, sipping from a smoothie like it was doing anything to cure his hangover.

"Bro," he said, throwing himself onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. "You're basically dating her."

Quinn didn't look up from his phone. He was lying across the floor, head on a throw pillow, fingers lazily scrolling.

"I'm not," he said.

"Are you serious?" Alex chimed in from the kitchen. He was standing in front of the open fridge door like something new might just appear. "You've spent every day with her for over a week."

"She's fun to hook up with," Quinn replied cooly.

Jack snorted. "You're literally acting like her boyfriend."

"I bring her coffee," Quinn said, shrugging "That's basic decency for letting us hang there so much."

"You bring her coffee," Alex said, shutting the fridge. "You rub sunscreen on her. You sit next to her at every hangout. She wears your fucking hoodie."

Quinn smirked. "It's just summer."

"Sure it fucking is," Jack said, leaning back. "Tell that to your stupid little smile every time she texts you."

"I don't smile."

"Man, shut up."

Quinn sat up slowly, stretched out his arms and stared out the window as the room dissolved back into its regular chaos.

It's just summer. He repeated it again in his head.

Then again, slower. Like saying it enough times might just make it true.

Across town, at Natalia's house, things weren't much quieter

Zoey was in the kitchen, half-sprawled across the island with a pint of ice cream. Riley was sitting on the couch, scrolling mindlessly and Essa was standing by the fridge, judging her options.

Nat came in, yawning, rubbing at the back of her neck.

Riley looked up. "You catching feelings?"

Natalia blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

"No," Nat said, walking past them, grabbing the coffee pot. "It's fun."

"It's more than fun," Zoey said, chewing slowly. "You guys are acting like you're married."

Essa snorted.

"I'm not catching feelings," Nat said again, firmer now. "It's just easy. We hook up. We hang out. That's all."

"You've got hickeys on your neck like a fucking high schooler, bitch," Zoey said, pointing with her spoon. "What's easy about that?"

Natalia reached up instinctively, brushing her fingers over the spot.

"Yeah, okay," Riley said, smirking. "Totally chill. Definitely just friends."

"Didn't say friends," Nat muttered.

"Didn't say not in love with him, either."

"I'm not in love with him."

They all raised their eyebrows at the same time.

Nat sighed. "Jesus."

She turned and walked off, cup of coffee forgotten. The girls all looked at each other as her bedrooom door slammed shut.

She was totally in love with him.

~~

That night, the hangout had moved from outside to the basement. A pool table sat at the centre of everything. The group was spread out around the room, everyone doing their own thing.

Nat was leaned against the wall, holding a very large glass of wine, watching Zoey hustle Jack out of twenty bucks over a game of pool.

Quinn was across the room, talking to Alex, laughing quietly. His hand moved when he talked, sharp gestures to help support whatever he was saying.

She hadn't talked to him all day. Not on purpose.

She just... didn't know what to say after her talk with the girls that morning.

Every time he laughed, she looked up.

Every time she moved, she felt like he noticed.

They were playing the same game they'd played the first night... see who cracks first. See who bridges the gap.

Nat looked up again.

And caught him already looking at her.

She didn't move, just tillted her head a little, curious.

He held her gaze, then looked away smiling.

Soft. Subtle.

Stupidly hot.

She rolled her eyes to herself and walked over to where Luke and Riley were playing cards, pretending that his stupid smile wasn't on the forefront of her mind.

No big deal.

Just summer.

~~

Natalia woke up to the sunlight cutting across the ceiling in sharp slices, the kind that made everything look prettier.

She rolled over instinctively.

Empty.

The other side of the bed was cold. The pillow barely dented. The sheets rumpled slightly like someone had sat up and gotten out of bed.

Her eyes lingered on the spot.

She didn't feel surprised. She didn't feel anything really.

Until she saw the hoodie.

Folded once, not neatly, near the foot of the bed. Grey. Plush. The one he wore the night they watched that movie, the one that still smelled like smoke and Quinn. She stared at it for another moment, then pulled it toward her.

Her fingers had moved without her head catching up.

She brought it to her face, breathed it in and slipped it on. Still warm. Still him.

It hung loose over her shorts, sleeves swallowing her hands. The fabric was worn thin at the cuffs, a tiny tear near the seam. She rolled the sleeves up once, then didn't bother again.

She looked in the mirror for a second, hoodie draped over bikini top, hair a mess, mascara smudged just a little beneath her eyes.

What a look.

She could already hear voices downstairs. She must've slept in if the guys were already there.

Slowly, she wandered into the kitchen, hoodie still on.

Quinn turned from where he was standing by the sink, washing a plate. His eyes flickered down, once, to take in the hoodie.

"That mine?" he smirked.

She shrugged. "Found it on my bed."

"Right," he said, nodding slowly. "Weird how that happens."

She reached past him to grab a glass, brushing his arm. "Looks better on me."

"Not arguing."

She giggled as he splashed some water at her before turning and walking outside to join his brothers.

~~

The day passed in what felt like seconds. And by the time dinner was over and the kitchen was cleaned, most of the group was half-asleep on the back patio. Except for Zoey and Jack who had claimed the hammock near the side of the house.

Nat wandered down the path toward the dock barefoot. The water looked scarily dark under the night sky. Like an endless black abyss. She stood at the edge of a moment, letting the silence surround her, until she heard footsteps.

Quinn.

"Thought you went home," she said, not turning.

"Thought about it."

A pause.

He stepped beside her and looked out at the water.

"I've never done a night swim," she said suddenly.

Quinn blinked. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Not in the lake."

He looked at her, amused. "You live on the water."

"Doesn't mean I'm always in it."

"Let's change that."

Before she could respond, he was pulling off his shirt, dropping it onto the dock. Nat stared at him, admiring the unbothered calm about him that made her feel like she was on fire.

He looked at her. "You coming?"

She just peeled off the hoodie, tossed it to the side, and stepped out of her shorts.

Then--splash.

He dove.

Nat grinned and jumped in after him.

She came up gasping, hair slicked back, laughing.

Quinn swam toward her, slow and easy.

"You okay?" he asked.

"No. I think I'm in shock," she said, spinning once in the water. "You just dragged me into unheated water in the dead of night."

"You'll live."

"You owe me."

"I brought you bagels this morning."

"Fair."

They floated next to each other in the stillness, shoulders bumping occasionally.

"I used to think I'd get married by twenty-three," she muttered.

He looked over. "Really?"

"Yeah. I thought I'd live in a big city, wear heels to work, have a guy who made me smoothies every morning."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "How's that working out?"

She laughed under her breath. "I'm twenty-three. I live in a shoebox apartment and sometimes forget to buy toothpaste and toilet paper."

"And the guy?"

"Don't have one. Just this guy who leaves hoodies in my bed and convinces me to ruin my hair with lake water."

He smirked. "He sounds like a menace."

"Total nightmare."

Quinn tilted his head. "Do you want that?"

She blinked. "What?"

"The whole thing. Marriage, smoothies, heels."

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I thought I did. Then I fell in love once, and it went to shit, and I think since then I've just been..." She trailed off.

"Floating?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Floating."

They went quiet again, bobbing gently in the dark.

Then Quinn said, "Maybe floating's okay. For a while."

Nat turned toward him and without thinking, without letting the moment settle too long, she reached under the water and grabbed his hand.

Not in a way that said hookup.

Not in a way that said I want something.

Quinn squeezed back.

Eventually, they climbed out and sat on the edge of the dock, feet dangling above the water.

Natalia leaned her head on his shoulder, wet curls sticking to his arm. She stared at the ripples below and thought:

Shit. I'm so fucking doomed.

~~

The last party the boys would be there for was messier than the first.

People spilled out of the house in every direction. Someone yelled for shots every ten minutes and someone else tried to climb onto the roof of the pool house before Essa dragged him back down by the belt loop.

"You break your neck, I'm not gonna be the one calling the hospital," she snapped, shoving a beer into his hand instead.

Natalia was drunk.

Not blurry or slurring or spilling things. Just loose. Bikini still damp from an earlier swim, linen shirt unbuttoned, cheeks flushed. She was laughing in the hot tub, some guy from the next town over sitting way too close. His name was maybe Chris. Maybe not.

He was saying something dumb and flirty. She laughed anyway.

Quinn saw her from across the yard.

He'd been leaning against the deck rail, half-listening to Jack's story about some girl he fake-proposed to once for free drinks. But his focus was clearly elsewhere.

Natalia in the hot tub. Natalia throwing her head back laughing. Natalia letting someone else lean that close.

He set his beer down. Walked past the grill. Past Riley and Luke playing some made-up card game. Stepped to the edge of the bed and jumped in. Shoes, shirt, everything.

Nat turned, startled, hair dripping against her neck. Quinn surfaced, blinked water from his lashes, and held her gaze like he was done pretending.

Then he reached up.

"Come here," he said lowly.

She didn't have to think twice, just took his hand.

He pulled her into the pool, denim skirt and all. Her body hit the water with a slap and a gasp. She came up laughing, sputtering, hair plastered to her face.

And then he kissed her.

Right there. In the middle of the pool. In front of everyone.

It wasn't soft.

It was a hand to her waist, pulling her in, mouth on hers like he'd been holding back. Possessive. Hungry. His fingers tangled in her hair, hers clenched at his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around his waist without thinking.

The backyard fell slightly quieter around them. The kind of hush that meant people were watching.

Zoey, from the poolside, raised a brow. "Okay then..."

Nat didn't care.

She pulled back just enough to breathe, just enough to catch Quinn's eyes up close.

"You good?" she asked breathlessly.

He smirked. "Not really."

They disappeared into the hosue without another word.

~~

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them. No lights, just the flicker of the string lights outside.

Quinn pressed her against the door.

This time was different.

Not frantic. Not messy.

Slow.

Like memorizing.

He kissed her again, but it was softer now. Surer. Like he was trying to say something she wouldn't let him speak out loud. It wasn't just about the fun of it anymore.

It was about knowing.

The way her breath caught. The way he looked at her after she laughed. The way her fingers brushed over the line of his jaw like she was scared she'd forget how it looked.

Later, she lay awake beside him, one sheet pulled halfway up, the ceiling fan spinning.

Quinn was asleep. His arm was slung across her stomach, his breathing even.

But she couldn't sleep.

Her chest ached from the way it suddenly felt like she'd made a memory that was already slipping through her fingers.

She didn't know what to do with that thought. So she buried her face in Quinn's neck and tried her best to get at least a little rest.

~~

The morning after felt too still.

Half-full Solo cups lined the counter like ghosts of the night before. Someone had left their sunglasses in the fridge. The Bluetooth speaker sat lopsided on the table, blinking red, battery dying.

Riley was curled into the armchair with a bottle of water and her phone, scrolling aimlessly until she stopped dead.

"Um," she said. "Guys."

Natalia looked up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, nursing coffee and trying to forget how last night had felt.

Zoey and Essa turned too, drawn by the shift in Riley's voice.

Riley held up her phone.

A TikTok. Grainy and zoomed in.

The boat.

Them.

Nat, legs draped over Quinn's lap, laughing, drink in hand. His arm around her waist. The two of them so clearly wrapped up in each other they might as well have been alone.

The caption: "Are the Hughes bros in Montauk???"

The girls stared.

"Okay," Zoey said slowly. "What the fuck?"

Essa leaned in, typing quickly into Google.

Quinn Hughes

The results popped up instantly.

NHL. Defenseman. Number 43. Canucks.

Team USA.

Interview clips, highlight reels, Wikipedia.

Natalia froze.

She blinked at the screen. The man from the videos was the same man who had kissed her in the pool. Carried her up the stairs. Left a hoodie on her bed.

"You didn't know?" Riley asked, gentle.

Natalia shook her head.

"Holy shit," Zoey whispered.

Nat was quick to stand and walked outside.

Quinn was crouched near the patio, focused on fixing the leg of a deck chair with a screwdriver. He was humming something under his breath.

Calm and casual like the world hadn't just shifted.

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?"

Quinn looked up but didn't flinch.

He stood, wiping his hands on his shorts.

"Did it matter?" he asked.

Nat crossed her arms over her chest. "Kinda feels like it does."

"I liked not being that guy for once," he said simply. "No interviews. No cameras. Just... this."

Nat swallowed. Somehow that answer hurt more.

She stared past him, eyes stinging, but she blinked it away.

"You're leaving soon?" she asked.

He nodded. "Back to Michigan. Training. Couple weeks."

A pause that lasted a beat too long.

She forced a smile. "Right... of course."

Quinn opened his mouth like he might say more. Then didn't.

Nat turned before he could and walked back inside, slamming the door behind her.

~~

Laughter filled the house. Glitter on collarbones and eyelids, the air heavy with perfume.

The girls were getting ready like it was any other night.

Zoey was dressed in red, Essa in something silver. Riley was dancing around the kitchen a White Claw in one hand and hairbrush in the other.

But Natalia wasn't with them.

She was face-down on her bed, Quinn's hoodie draped over her like a blanket.

The room was quiet, lights dim. Her phone buzzed once, then again, then stopped.

A knock.

Riley's voice on the other side of the door. "You coming?"

Natalia didn't move. "Not tonight," she called back.

Silence, then footsteps retreating.

It was later that she heard another knock, much softer than Riley's.

She didn't bother answering it, the door opened anyway.

Quinn.

He silently sat on the floor, back against the bed and waited for her to join him.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then, like something in her chest had cracked open:

"I broke my wrist falling off a slide when I was eight," she said. "Told everyone I tripped. I was too embarrassed to admit I was just trying to walk up the slide."

Quinn chuckled. "I broke my front tooth playing mini sticks with Jack. I won and he hit me in the face with the stick."

"Wow."

He looked at her. "Yeah."

They kept going.

First concerts, favourite movies, stupid fights with siblings. The worst hangovers they'd ever had, songs that made them cry, people they wished they'd never kissed.

They talked until the house went quiet.

Until voices faded and headlights pulled away down the driveway.

Eventually, they moved to the bed.

There was no rush.

Quinn kissed her like he was trying to keep something. To lock it in.

It wasn't for fun.

It wasn't for the thrill.

It was for memory.

They laid side by side after.

No one said goodnight.

No one said goodbye.

His hand rested on her stomach.

Hers covered his. And they laid there until their breathing matched, even and soft.

~~

Nat woke up to quiet. No arguing from downstairs or music blasting from the bathroom while someone showered. Just the hum of the AC and the breeze moving the curtains.

She reached across the bed before her brain caught up.

It was empty.

No surprise, but also no note. But the hoodie was still there, crumpled where he'd been lying.

She pulled it into her lap and stared at it for a second.

It still smelled like him, but she didn't put it on this time.

She just stood slowly and padded down the hall.

Her phone buzzed.

A screenshot from Zoey. It was a text that Jack had sent her. "headed back home! thx for the best hamptons trip ever!!"

That was it.

No goodbye. No "we'll talk." Just this vague, friendly send-off that made her feel sick to her stomach.

~~

Essa knocked once before walking in with an iced coffee. "Your favourite," she said softly.

Nat took it and nodded.

Zoey climbed into bed next to her without a word.

Riley flopped dramatically onto the floor like her soul had left her body. "I think I fell in love with the bartender last night."

"You also called him Steve when his name was Dylan," Zoey added.

"Whatever. He knew what I meant."

Essa looked over at Natalia.

"Come on, Nat. We'll go out tonight. Find you a new guy."

Nat gave them a crooked smile. Half-crying, half-laughing.

That night, she let them dress her up.

Crop top. Denim skirt. Gold hoops. A little glitter under her eyes.

She stood at the bar with a drink she wouldn't finish, some guy she didn't know leaning close, saying something about the stars or the moon or whatever line he thought might work.

She smiled like she meant it.

Her phone buzzed and she casually glanced at it.

Quinn Hughes followed you!

Her breath caught and she let her real smile shine through.

Then she turned from the bar, scanned the crowd, and went off to find the girls without another word.

[cacoetheswriting]

something has to change

chapter four from the little mess you made.

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x singlemom!reader (modern au) word count: 3.5k

summary: slowly, settling into a new normal, eddie starts to think maybe his hometown isn't so bad. after all, you're here, with his kid. although, do you want him to stick around? especially since you've got steve.

chapter cw: suggestive & mature themes, implied intimacy | non-explicit, one night stand gone awry, secret pregnancy aka no-one told eddie he's a dad, forced proximity, mutual pining / yearning, jealousy, fluffy angst, emotional hurt / comfort, navigating family dynamics, adult language, mentions of alcohol consumption — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

As the days pass, the initial shock of varying emotions begins to recede.

The quiet, internal turmoils subside with each morning and a cup of coffee that warms the fingertips of those seated at the kitchen table: Wayne, you, and Eddie. The new normal, it seems.

Outside, the world also continues to spin.

Your weekly schedule resumes unbothered by the sudden arrival of a certain brunette rockstar, although you do find yourself thinking about him more than you probably should. Sitting at the front desk of the yoga studio, mind wandering to what Eddie’s doing now, at the house he’s bought for his uncle — the house you also occupy.

That first night, after bidding him a pleasant goodnight, you find him lingering outside the office door and staring at the pull-out with a sad glint to his brown eyes. He feels your presence almost instantly and corrects himself. An act of self-preservation he has done a few times since his unexpected appearance, but you choose not to point it out.

Clearly, there’s a lot on Eddie’s mind.

“You can take my bed,” you offer quietly. “It is supposed to be your room, after all.”

But the rockstar shakes his head, brown locks bouncing in perfect harmony.

“I’ll be fine here,” he reassures you. “Don’t worry about me, sugar.”

Perhaps you can’t get him off your mind because of the nickname that’s slipped his tongue. The one he’s called you repeatedly during that one night in New York. One you’ve not heard since, so you’ll always associate with him. “I’m yours, sugar.”.

Yours, yours, yours.

Or maybe it’s the unspoken. The doleful look in his eyes, telling a thousand different stories of something you’d associate with regret. The way his hand brushes yours ever so slightly as he passes, heading for the bathroom. A fleeting touch that sends a shockwave of electricity down your spine. 

Whatever the reason, Eddie Munson has etched himself into your thoughts yet again. A persistent melody you can't quite hum away and frankly, one you’re not entirely sure you want to forget.

Days pass and when an invite from Steve comes, for an evening of drinks and fun (as he put it), Wayne insists on babysitting. Urging you and Eddie out the door, into the warm evening.

“Time to enjoy your respective youths, while you still have them. Before I change my mind,” the eldest Munson says, although you know that’ll never happen because he truly is World’s Best Grandpa.

Eddie looks at you shyly. 

Despite spending a week and a half together, living under one roof like some sort of messed-up version of Keeping Up with the Joneses, there rarely was a chance for the two of you to talk privately again.

The rockstar slid into an established routine. Breakfast, preschool drop-off, work for you and household errands for Wayne, preschool pick-up, dinner, bedtime. Every day is the same.

Wayne tells you in a hushed tone how he’s worried about his nephew. When there’s a lull in activities, while you’re still at work and Messer in preschool, the rockstar stares at his phone until it rings and then continues hushed conversations behind the closed office doors. Something’s happened, outside of the kept secret his team most likely knew about — thanks to fucking Felix.

Then, at the weekend, so far the only one Eddie’s been here for, Wayne takes his nephew fishing on Saturday. They get back late, when you’re already cosy in bed. You hear them have a beer or two on the patio but make no attempt to join them, thinking Wayne deserves his time with his big-shot nephew more than you do. Plus you need the rest for Sunday. A day trip to the city with girls from the yoga studio and all of your kids. Three adults and five feral toddlers. By the time you arrive home, you are so rundown, you barely conquer bedtime with Messer and later, almost fall asleep under the shower.

So, Eddie looks at you shyly because you’re effectively a stranger. A stranger he shares a kid with. A kid he knows very little about, aside from what Wayne may have told him. Guilt trickles through your veins and you smile at him, earnestly.

In the car, you offer him your phone. More specifically, you open up Google Photos and scroll to the year Messer was born. Eddie takes the device, albeit hesitantly, but once his eyes scan the first image — you, severely pregnant, sitting on a yoga ball with a tub of ice-cream in one hand and a plastic spoon in the other — he settles into the passenger seat and begins to swipe through.

“You probably won’t get through all of them before we get to Steve’s,” you begin. “But you can start and just pick up wherever you leave off later on.”

The rockstar nods, glancing at you briefly to say, “Thank you.”, and his gaze locks back on the phone in his grasp. A timid smile circling his lips as he continues to scan each image, asking questions for context you’re happy to provide.

Steve’s house is on the other side of town. It’s an impressive three-story brick, featuring large windows that are accented with dark-grey shutters. A simple two-step leads to the front door which is under a cover of a marble-like balcony. Green ivy dangling between gaps of concrete. The whole thing is symmetrical as fuck. 

“Imagine the McCallister house from Home Alone, just on a slightly smaller scale,” that’s how Steve described it when he first put the downpayment on the property. Honestly, the king of modesty.

You’ve been here many times, yet as you make way down the pebbled stones, the house coming into view from behind droopy trees, it still takes your breath away. Eddie looks up from the phone, mouth slightly parting.

“That rich asshole,” he mutters under his breath and you can’t help yourself, you snort.

The rockstar’s head snaps in your direction at the sound. One brow raised, cocky grin plastered across his handsome face.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got more money coming in,” you deadpan, killing the engine.

“I don’t live in a fucking mansion,” he replies, thumb popping behind his shoulder, pointing towards Steve’s home.

Opening the door, you tell him, “The market in California is just different,” before hopping out of the car.

Eddie follows suit, stepping around the dash, the smirk still playing on his lips.

“Last I checked, you lived in Brentwood, so don’t act like you’re slumming it, Munson.”

Handing your phone back to you, a playful glimmer lights his irises and you can’t help the smile that appears on your own expression. Finally, there’s lightness in his aura and you’re determined to keep it this way — if only for the evening.

“It’s about principal. I earned my money. Harrington was born into his.” Eddie states, his tone blithe, unserious. He takes a step closer, eyes bouncing between yours as he leans in to add, “But it’s nice to hear you’re still keeping tabs on me, sugar.”

Shoving past the rockstar, you roll your eyes. The crunch of gravel under your pumps drowns out the hammering inside your chest, caused by his sudden closeness just a second ago. By his presence overall. The magnetic pull you feel. The urge to make him happy by any means necessary.

“Steve’s worked for this.” you defend your friend, without turning to look behind at the rockstar close on your heel. You hear Eddie sigh, but you ignore the reaction and continue, “But what you’re saying is, if your parents were… comfortable, you’d reject the inheritance?”

He barks out a laugh and you bite back your own at the playful sound. 

“Now, let’s not get crazy. I’d take the money ‘cause I’m not a fucking idiot,” Eddie says. “But I’d invest it in, like, independent music labels and local venues. Not… whatever this is.” He gestures expansively at Steve’s meticulously manicured front lawn as you ring the doorbell.

“Steve invests too. He told you so last week, remember? This house is just a bonus.”

Eddie’s smile slips and his brows furrow.

“You take his side a lot.”

The sentence makes you blink.

For a moment that feels all too long, his words hang in the air between you, heavy and rather accusatory, causing a sudden shift in the comfortable rhythm of your conversation.

You want to tell the rockstar how Steve’s been by your side over the last few years, making it second nature to support him because he does the same for you. But you bite your tongue. Something tells you the last thing Eddie wants to hear is how close you and Steve are.

Luckily, the door swings open and the man in question greets you both with a wide smile. A warm embrace for you, gentle kiss to the top of your head, and a firm handshake for Eddie – whose facial features visibly jump somewhere between disdain and respect.

“Glad you could make it,” Steve says, oblivious to the odd tension.

“Thanks for having us,” Eddie mumbles and you notice how he forces the smile on his face to widen as he looks around. “Nice place you got here.”

Steve claps a hand on his friend’s back, leading him through the foyer.

“Really? I thought you’d shit all over it,” the brunette half-laughs. “Call me a pretentious douche or a rich asshole.”

Eddie glances at you over his shoulder, eyes twinkling once more, while you chew the inside of your cheek. The unsettling beginning of an argument you two almost had fades fast when he winks before looking back to Steve, listening (or maybe pretending to listen) to the story of how this extravagant purchase came about.

In the large, open kitchen, the three of you are greeted by some of Steve's old high school friends. Nancy, Jonathan, Robin. People you’ve met before at various occasions over the last few years. People who have not seen — or heard from — Eddie since he left Hawkins in search for a greater life. Although, from what you’ve gathered, the rockstar wasn’t entirely friendly with the bunch before he left either.

They welcome you first. Hugging kindly and asking about Messer. Then, one by one, they turn to look at the brunette man, who’s standing stiffly in the archway, unsure what to do with his limbs.

“Hey,” Eddie says, awkwardly waving his hand.

Nobody moves. The silence is palpable, only sound being a faint murmur of the wind outside.

Odd? Tense? Yes, and yes. Your heart aches for the brunette hanging around the entrance of the kitchen because this is clearly hard for him. Being back in his hometown for reasons still unknown to you, facing a life-altering secret on arrival, dealing with the betrayal caused by everyone — including you — in the form of keeping Messer away from him. And now, facing people he went to high school with, pretending everything is peachy keen.

Eddie oozes confidence. That’s his thing. A big reason why the rockstar skyrocketed to stardom and why millions of fans chant his name like he’s their version of God. Up on that stage, in front of a camera, no one does it like Eddie Munson.

Looking at him here, however, he looks lost.

Swallowing a breath, you amble towards him and only stop when the tips of his black-leather, most likely designer boots brush your much less fancy shoes. His brown-eyes flicker to yours, laced with confusion, and you try to offer him an encouraging smile before shooting a quick look over your shoulder. One that indicates for the group to engage in their own conversation, for the time being.

“You okay?” Once no one is paying particular attention, although you know they’re still listening in, the question rolls off your tongue in a hushed tone.

Eddie sighs quietly. “It’s uh, fuck…”

“Tell me,” you urge and before you can talk yourself out of your next move, you place your hand on his bare forearm, squeezing gently.

His gaze briefly jumps to where your fingers hold his tattooed skin. He proceeds to take a shaky breath, then looks directly into your eyes, searching deep. Perhaps for an answer to his own internal turmoil, or a way to answer your question without uttering a word. As if you held the quick fix to whatever he’s currently feeling.

“It’s everything and uh, nothing…” Eddie says, a hand rustling through his already messy hair. “This whole damn situation. It’s a lot, you know? And I don’t want to feel like people are judging me for something I had no control over.”

You detect a double meaning to the rockstar’s last sentence, but choose to focus on the matter you know first hand.

“No one here is judging you, Eddie.” You affirm, squeezing the muscle of his arm once more. His Adam's apple bobs at the sensation, but he doesn’t tell you to stop, or remove your gentle grip. “These are your friends and I know they feel like shit for keeping Messer from you. I definitely do.”

“You shouldn’t,” he says and places a hand on top of yours, trapping it on his forearm. “You tried. It’s not your fault.” Eddie’s voice is low, rough, although there’s a weariness to the tone, one he's trying to hide.

Nodding, you smile sweetly.

“Then you get out of your own head too, okay? Try to enjoy yourself tonight, because I’m pretty sure Wayne will kick your ass if he finds out you moped about.”

This makes Eddie chuckle and your grin grows tenfold, heart pattering behind your ribcage. He reminds you of Messer when he laughs and God, you’d do anything to bottle the sound.

Turning to face the group, your fingers slide down his skin until they reach his palm and you pull him away from the archway, deeper into the kitchen. 

You try to ignore the way your entire being is crackling in short, sharp bursts, like logs on a fire. Ignore your imagination, which is running wild with memories of that night in New York when you held his hand for real, guided it along your body. You force those feelings down because Eddie’s already feeling out of place, surely the last thing he needs is his baby mama acting a fool.

“Guys,” you call the attention of everyone else, then jokingly, to ease any sort of tension, continue, “This is Eddie. Messer’s dad.”

The hush eases and is replaced by a wave of titters as, one by one, Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin, approach the rockstar and re-introduce themselves.

You let go of Eddie’s arm, stepping away to give him space for quick handshakes and hugs. His gaze though, it follows you. Even as he’s embracing his old friends, his eyes don’t leave your frame.

Standing by Steve, you can feel Eddie’s stare and you desperately want to know what he’s thinking about. If you helped the situation, or made it worse. Frankly, you want to know everything about him, although, again, that’s not your place in his world. So, you opt to wonder.

Eddie’s wondering too. 

He's wondering about the comfort you offered moments ago, in a room full of his people. He's wondering if the faint glow he sees on your cheeks is a mirror of the warmth spreading through his own chest. And most of all, he's wondering if you noticed the way his hand instinctively followed yours after you dropped the physical hold you had on him because if Eddie had it his way, he’d have your hand in his the entire night.

But you’re suddenly next to Steve and the rockstar is feeling all sorts of confused.

He’s not really spent time with you since that very first day back in Hawkins. You lead a busy life, that much is clear, and Eddie’s not entirely keen to disrupt your peace. Has he secretly hoped for more opportunities to talk with you one-on-one? Absolutely. He’s not going to be a dick about it though. You’ve got shit to do, a life to continue. He’s just a visitor, stopping by until it’s deemed safe to return to the glitz and glamour.

Rationally, Eddie knows he shouldn’t get too invested in whatever you have going on. Yes, he’ll remain in Messer’s life to the level you’ll allow, but that’s where it should end. Yet, with every day that’s passing, he’s aching to be close to you in any capacity. Making breakfast, cleaning up, and bedtime with the kid you share. The little things. They’ve brought the rockstar more peace than he’s ever experienced.

And now, you’re calming him down. Prioritising him. Offering up kindness for nothing in return and Eddie’s not quite sure how he’ll be able to let that go, when the time comes.

There’s also Steve Harrington.

Your defensive stance earlier, and the way you cling to the King of Hawkins now, makes Eddie think there’s definitely something going on. Something that is more than just platonic. But again, it’s not his business. He has to remind himself of that fact when his jaw clenches and his stomach twists.

Eddie continues to watch you though. Less intense because he’s not a creep, but he pays attention. To the things that make you light up, make you laugh. To the topics that make you grimace, close your eyes as if you’re willing the image to leave your mind. He’s paying attention to your voice when you speak about the things you’re passionate about — photography — and the shift in tone when it’s anything less than. 

He notices the glimmer in your eyes when you talk about Messer and his pulse quickens when you catch his gaze whenever the toddler is brought into conversation. A silent confirmation, understanding, that you’re not ashamed the rockstar is his father. In fact, Eddie would deduce the look in your eyes as pride. Which is crazy because he’s not done anything to prove he’s worthy of the title. Although, he is trying.

Unbeknown to you, or Wayne, Eddie spent the better part of the week-and-a-half he’s been back, in constant conversations with his legal team. 

His agent, Smithie, called him in a panic the very same night Eddie texted Felix about Messer. The older man admitted to also knowing about the child — kudos to Felix — and continuously keeping the situation out of the press, killing stories and whispers whenever they circled the rumour mill. 

“We only had your best interest at heart, Edward.” 

Smithie’s confession only fueled Eddie’s resolve. He may not have been there for the first three years of his kid’s life, but he’s damn well going to make sure to be here now. Even if it’s only financially. 

Against the advice of his agent, the rockstar instructed his lawyers to prepare a comprehensive plan because this isn’t just about acknowledging paternity — which he’s not officially done since the public doesn’t know, yet. This is about ensuring his child’s future. So, a trust fund has been established and Eddie also demanded an evaluation of royalties, insisting on a significant portion being set aside for Messer.

He just needs to tell you. 

He knows this information will most likely send you into a frenzy, but he can make you understand. Eddie may not be ready to face the public scrutiny and potential career fallout over his last debacle, but prioritizing his child's well-being and your peace of mind, above all else, is a stance he’s prepared to fight for.

“So, Eddie…” Robin hails his attention from across the table. “What’s life like on the road?”

The rockstar swallows a bite of a fancy cheese Steve put out, and grins. 

“Oh man, it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” he answers honestly. “There’s the highs. Venues bursting at the seams, everyone singing along, the sheer energy of it all. Nothing comes close.” 

Sneaking a glance in your direction, he takes a swig of his drink and continues, “Then there's the lows, long hours, truck stop coffee that could strip paint, and my bandmates' questionable hygiene after partying all night instead of showering post shows.” 

Robin chuckles, nodding along. “Gross.”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods with a smirk. 

“But it’s everything you’ve ever wanted, right?” Steve probes, “I’m sure even the bad parts are good since you're doing what you love.”

The rockstar looks to his left, meeting Harrington’s disarming gaze. Eddie’s sure his friend means nothing by the statement, yet he can’t help but feel there’s a question within. One that sounds something like: “when are you fucking off again, so I can enjoy my time with your baby mama in peace?”. Although, he’s being ridiculous thinking this.

“Why?” Eddie asks, slightly off-tone. “You thinking of joining the circus?”

Steve snorts. “Hell no. I’m happy here, dude.”

“Well, I’m happy here too,” Eddie tells him before he can think better of it. And as the table exchanges a set of glances that he’s not entirely paying attention to — busy looking at you again, to gauge your reaction — the rockstar realises that perhaps it’s true.

But that would be crazy since he’s only ever wanted to run away from Hawkins. His return is circumstantial, at best. He’s not happy, Eddie tells himself. He’s just in his head because he’s learned half of his soul is here. 

In the shape of a toddler (and the young boy's mom).

as always, thank you for reading! pls support your writers by commenting & reblogging <3

story masterlist

tagging some cool people that expressed interest (if you want to be removed, just let me know), and if anyone wants to be added- also let me know:

@tvserie-s-world @probablyin-bed @the-dumpster-fire-of-life @darknesseddiem @kellsck @althaiareads @streamafterlaughter @ali-r3n @ratsematary @alyisdead @kravitzwhore @aestheticsunflower19 @s1mp-4-ga11y @monstermunsonswife-blog @xingyuluvr @ari-joe @dearestro @spider-starry @vodkapetalz-blog @ilovetaquitosmmmm @angelbabyivy @cupidbloaterz @fishinsuits @thedoubleexposurephotography @thrashcam @kravitzwhore @maskofmirrors @taylorswiftsloverr @djodirt @reidsgubbler @wendyxox @obsessed-midwest-princess @mdurdenpitt @talknerdytome5391 @stitchlover324 @tigolebittiez

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 16

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Simone refuses to come out for dinner. You don’t want any either. You sit at the table with Malik and coax him into eating half his plate. He’s too excited about going back to his toy cars. You let him play for a bit longer before you get him into the bath. 

You put him in a fresh set of jammies and get him to bed. You tap on Simone’s door and let her know the bathroom is free if she needs to wash up. You get no answer. 

You go downstairs and check Malik’s planner. You’ll write a note for him to excuse his homework. It’s been too hectic for you to focus. You’re messing everything up. Not just your marriage, but your kids. 

You pack his bag and leave it by the door. Simone took hers with her. You don’t doubt that even as she stews in hatred, she has her homework done. 

You’re cleaning up the kitchen when Pete gets home. He’s late for the first time since you found out about his assistant. Almost like he’s deliberately drawing this out. 

“Hey,” he stands behind the island. “So... looks like Hansen is going to invest.” 

You lock up. “Invest?” You eke out. 

“Sure. It’s what we were chatting about. He’s in. Hey,” he taps the laminate. “Why didn’t you say he was such a cool guy?” 

You cringe. Of course, he’s forgotten about all your marital woes. He’s completely distracted by his stupid sports agency nonsense. Again, you’re left juggling everything. You’re mad again. Not so penitent. 

You face him. He winces. You deflate. 

“That’s good, Pete. You’re going to need the money.” You utter. 

He frowns. “Huh?” 

“We need to talk.” You have to tear the bandaid off. You knew weeks ago you couldn’t forgive him. 

“Honey,” he please. “I’ve been trying. This will help--” 

“No, Pete--” You sigh and pinch your nose. How you untangle this mess? 

“Daddy,” Simone has you spinning to the door. She’s still in her school clothes. Her brow is furrowed like it gets when she has a headache. “You’re home.” 

“Uh, yeah,” he looks between you and your daughter. His confusion is plain. He pushes the tails of his brown jacket back and grips his hips. “How ya doing, kiddo?” 

She scowls. She turns her glare on you. You give her a look. I’m getting there. 

“Mommy, you need to say it.” She sneers. 

You shudder and cross your arms, “Sim, we’re talking. Alright. So let us.” 

“But you need to say it to him. You need to--” She stomps her foot. “I know. And now everyone needs to.” 

You take a breath. “Simone Caroline Brenner. Go to bed.” 

Anger flashes in her eyes. She crosses her arms and raises her chin. “Daddy--” 

Pete searches the room. His eyes are swimming and his cheeks are tinged red. He slowly crosses to Simone and bends to meet her level. He gently grasps her upper arms. 

“Simone. I’m sorry. I hurt your mom and I was wrong.” He begins.  

You step forward then stop. “Pete...” 

“No. I knew she’d figured it out. She’s too smart.” He swallows and squats down to stay on Simone’s eye line. “I was wrong. I love your mom so much and I forgot that.” 

“Daddy?” She squeaks and her face contorts. 

“It won’t happen again. I’m going to make things better and me and your mom are going to be okay. Aren’t we honey?” He looks over his shoulder at you. 

It’s just like him. To finally take some responsibility at the worst time. Simone shoves him and steps out of his reach. 

“You too?” She snivels, her eyes gleaming. She’s going to cry and she never does that. 

“What?” Peter stands and rubs his neck. “Simmy?” 

“I hate you. Both of you!” She screeches and spins, running away. 

You listen to her feet hammer up the stairs. You close your eyes and press your hands to either side of your nose. You exhale and drop your arms. You move to lean on the counter as your lower back spasms. 

“What does she mean... you too?” Pete turns to you. 

You don’t look away. You’re not a coward like him. It’s over anyway. 

“Did you...” Pete begins. 

“I did some stuff. Yes. Not everything but that’s no different.” You admit. “I could give you excuse after excuse but I don’t want your forgiveness, Pete. This is broken. It has been.” You wet your lips and push yourself straight. “We can’t fix it.” 

“When?” He asks. 

“Does it matter?” 

His eyes shine. “I mean it. I do love you.” 

“But you don’t want me,” your cheeks pinch. 

“But I do--” 

“No. No. You think you have to. That’s okay, Pete. Really. It’s not about us. It’s about what’s right for the kids.” You flick away tears. “Sim shouldn’t even know but...” 

He nods and his throb bobs. He sniffs. “Who?” 

You stare at him. His shoulders slump. He steps around the island and comes to you. 

“Who?” He croaks again. 

“My boss.” You twitch. “Lloyd.” 

His face pales and his eyes go vacant. Tears gloss over his blue irises and wobble along the brims. As they fall, he flinches. Then all at once, his face contorts. 

His hands close around your neck and startle you. You gasp and grab his wrists. He squeezes. 

“Pete!” You cry out. 

“You fucked him? Fucked him and brought him into my home?” He snarls. 

“Pete,” you slap his chest with one hand, trying to bend back his fingers with your other. 

“You flaunted it in my fucking face!” He barks. 

“Please, shhh,” you hush him. “The kids.” 

“No, you—you--” He stammers furiously. “Your fucking boss?!” 

“Pe-Pe--” you struggle to get air out or in. You push on his shoulder. “Can’t--” 

“You’re my wife,” he shakes you. “My... wife.” 

You grab at him, desperately. Your vision blots with black and your head throbs. You drag your hands up to his face and dig your nails into his cheeks. You claw him as he roars and tosses you away. 

You land on the tiles, breathless and hacking. He growls above you and kicks your side with his leather toe. You bat him away and kick yourself across the floor. 

“Pete, stop!” You plead. “Stop!” 

“How could you do this? To me?” 

You scoff as you shake on the floor, one hand up in a pathetic defense. He looms over you. You brace yourself for more. You lift your face. 

“I didn’t do it to you. I did it for you.” You laugh sardonically. “I had to keep my job so I could pay the mortgage. Pay for the kids.” 

“Don’t say you did it for me,” he snarls. 

“Well, what do you think?” You lean back against the cupboards and drop your hand. “After you, I don’t want another man to touch me ever again.” 

He steps closer. You close your eyes. You wait for it. 

“If it was really like that, why didn’t you tell me?” He whispers. 

“You were off fucking the gym girl,” you snort. 

He’s quiet. He backs off and paces around the kitchen. Then, finally, he leaves. His feet hit each step deliberately; you wince with every thump. 

You hang your head and smile. It’s over. You didn’t expect it to be such a relief. 

🗄️

You sleep in the basement. Not really. You lay awake in the cot and listen to the house. It's more of a daze.

You check your phone. You dismiss your alarm before it can go off. You sit up with a groan. The pain is there but duller. Manageable. Your neck hurts worse than anything and your head is still pounding.

You go up to the bathroom. As you wash your face, you pause. There's dark spots on your cheeks. Burst blood vessels from last night's struggle. And your neck... just moving your head is agony.

You don't want to look at it. You cover your skin in some expired foundation and put on a turtleneck. You take your phone into the kitchen and start on breakfast.

You stare at the cracked back of your phone. You thought of calling the police then you just stopped. It isn't worth the trouble. You've caused enough for everyone.

Things aren't going to stay this way. They have to change. You have to change them.

Step one. Say goodbye. To the house, to the routine, to the life you built.

You go upstairs to get Malik out of bed. You peek at Simone's door as you walk him down the hall. You're terrified of your own daughter.

You get Malik a plate of pancakes and pour syrup over them. He bounces in excitement. As you cut them up for him, Simone startles you. She slams her book on the table and sits.

"Good morning, Simone," you say.

She doesn't respond. You get her a plate. Still nothing.

You retreat and work on their lunches. Malik hums as he eats. The only sound in the stagnant air.

You clean up quickly before getting everyone packed up. Pete doesn't show himself. You're happy for that. Still, you're anxious as hell.

As you drive, your mind is in a million different places. You nearly slam on the brakes as Malik breaks the silence. You look in the rearview at him and blink.

"Sorry, Mal, what did you say?" You idle as you wait to pull into the school.

"Are you okay, mommy?" He asks.

You hesitate. "Yeah, baby. I'm good."

You steer up around the front of the school and stop. "Have a good day, you two. I love you."

"Love you, mommy." Malik chimes back. 

Simone says nothing. She reaches over to unbuckle Malik and drags him out with her. 

"Hey, don't be so rough," you warn her.

"Whatever," she slams the door after her.

You watch her take her brother up to the front doors. You wave at the teacher overseeing the morning arrivals. You linger until they're inside.

You sip your coffee. It hurts. The heat only reminds you of the tortured muscles in your neck. Every time you think of Pete's hand on you, you shake. He could have done more. That realisation only came later.

Your phone shakes. You think of ignoring it. In case it's him.

You glance over at the screen. Shoot. Worse. Somehow.

As you stop at the light, you answer and put the phone on speaker, resting it in the empty cupholder.

"Cheeks, you bringing coffee." It isn't a question.

"On my way, Mr. Hansen."

"In a damn skirt, I hope." He growls.

You look down at your stretchy pants. You sigh. 

"Gotta go. My turn at the drive through." You lie.

You find somewhere to get him an americano. One of those bougie places. It'll be your last act of acquiescence.

You drive to the office. No music, no radio. Just the tension of what comes next.

You take the cardboard cup with you but not your work bag. You strut up to the building, blinders on, and charge through the lobby. The elevator ride is too quick. You stand just outside the doors and look around. You can do this.

You march between the cubicles and to Hansen's office. Your hips lock up. Fuck it. Nothing worse than men. Even if your back is spasming.

You enter without knocking. He nearly flips his chair as he drops his feet off his desk.

"Christ, baby face, you ever hear of knocking?" He sneers.

You cross the office to his desk. You leave the door open. You put the coffee in front of him.

"Well, good fucking morning," he snaps. "You wanna shut that?"

He points past you. You don't answer his question. You are only here to say one thing.

"I quit."

He keeps from drinking his coffee and spits. "Quit? Ha, oh sweetheart, you really think it's that easy?"

"Yup," you say sharply, your voice catching. It's coarser than usual. "I'm done. With you."

"You can't fucking be serious?" He leans forward. "You get that gig at Burger King, then?"

"None of your business," you smirk.

"Mom of the year. Wife of the century--" He taunts.

"Fuck you." You utter as you lean in. "You're a fucking worm."

He stares at you, the disbelief flush across his face. He tilts his head and his lips slant.

"What's with all the fucking makeup?" He asks.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hansen. I'll be cleaning out my desk."

You twirl and stomp away. You go to the printing room and grab and empty paper box. You sit and open your desk drawer. You sort the contents between the box and the bin.

"I told you to wear a skirt," Hansen steps up in front of you. You ignore him. "What in the fuck are you doing? I am talking to you."

You smile and shake your head. You can feel the gazes of your coworkers. The air is rippling.

"Fucking answer me." He snarls. You continue to clear out. "Look at me."

He bends and you snap the drawers shut. You sweep the few things on top of your desk into the box. You slide the waste bin back underneath for the cleaner to get later and stand with your few possessions.

You sidestep and he blocks you. Your nape tingles. Hands encircle your neck for a split second then disappear. You look around. He won't touch you. Not with all these witnesses.

"Have the day you deserve, Mr. Hansen."

You brush by him. He grunts but doesn't follow. You don't look back as you stride up to the elevator.

"The fuck you looking at! Back to work, morons!" He blusters at his audience.

You smile. It's a small win, likely the only one you have coming. And one that won't last past the elevator ride.