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munson-blurbs · 8 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

Summary: You and Eddie face a familiar nemesis at a Teacher Appreciation luncheon, but the rewards that come with your strengthened relationship are far sweeter.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), semi-public sex, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), choking, spanking, praise kink, orgasm denial, breeding kink, creampie, Carol Perkins makes an appearance

WC: 9.6k

Chapter 18/20

Divider credit to @saradika Eddie pic credit to @eddiemunsonsmum

Out to lunch

Be back soon

That’s the message hastily scribbled onto the sheet of staff paper Scotch taped just above Rock Records’ hours of operation. Innocuous enough; a sign that has been posted on many a small town storefront. But if anyone is listening closely, they’ll hear Guns ‘N Roses still playing over the tinny sound system—not to mention the moans drifting from Eddie’s managerial office.

Eddie has you laid back on the desk, your legs hooked over his shoulders. His fingers grab onto your thighs with such ferocity that his rings threaten to leave indents on your supple skin. He’s on his knees, a man possessed as his tongue glides over your clit.

“F-Fuck, Eddie! Right there!”

You can feel him grinning against you, obviously pleased to be catapulting you into this blissful spiral. He tugs you just a bit closer, the subtle movements of his jaw apparent as he laps at your pussy. His own noises nearly drown out yours; the way he devours you has him smacking his lips together greedily. You’re a feast, and he doesn’t intend to leave a single crumb behind.

Your legs tremble and your toes curl, back arching to create a small gap between you and the table. Somehow, you manage to sit up just enough to reach out and lace your fingers through the strands of hair that have escaped his ponytail.

He’s acutely aware that you’re watching him, though he doesn’t see your awestruck expression as you take in the sight before you. A sheen of slick and saliva coat his chin, evidence that his efforts are far from futile.

He’s so beautiful between your legs, worshiping your pussy like it’s a deity, leaving nothing untouched. His cock strains against his fly as it seeks the warmth of being inside you.

“I’m close, baby, s-so close!”

He knows he should stop now, forcing you to beg him to let you finish, but he simply can’t deny you. Maybe some of it is selfish; making his girl come is just as satisfying as his own orgasm. The way you chant his name, body shaking as unbridled ecstasy takes over.

Your free hand swoops across the table, knocking to the ground a small stack of papers and a paperclip box. Everything scatters along the carpeted floor. “Sh-shit, ‘m sorry—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Eddie growls, two thick fingers gliding in your wet sex as he speaks. “Don’t you dare do anything but come for me.”

That shuts you up, save for the wanton moans you exhale as the coil in your belly snaps and relief floods your body.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Eddie is pulling you and bending you over his desk. Your elbows hit the table, but you’re still floating too high to brace yourself for pain. The soft clink of his belt buckle coming undone and his zipper teeth opening have you clenching around nothing.

He hikes your skirt up even higher—your lace panties already snug in his back pocket—and taps the head of his length on your ass. You’re so wet that you’re glistening, and he grabs the Trojan from his wallet before rolling it over himself and pushing into you.

“Thassit, mmm, fuck,” he grunts, filling you fully until he bottoms out. “You knew what you were doing when you came here, didn’t you?” One arm wraps around your waist as he thrusts up into you. “Pretending like you just wanted to visit. Yeah, right.”

You grin victoriously. Eddie didn’t normally work on Sundays, but when he picked up a last-minute shift for a sick co-worker, you had to jump at the opportunity.

His pace intensifies as your body brings him to his own release. If you were at either of your places, he would still be eating you out, not stopping until he had you in tears. He wouldn’t even care if stickiness pooled in his boxers, but he has no spare pants to change into, and he certainly can’t get caught with cum-stained pants while on the clock.

His hips piston a bit faster, hand dropping so his middle finger can readily find your clit. As soon as you whimper, already overstimulated all the fullness within you, he’s a goner. You can feel his heart racing when his chest presses to your spine, even through your respective shirts.

“‘M right there, oh, fuck,” Eddie hisses, teeth gritted in concentration. He throws his head back and grabs a handful of your bare ass, smacking it for good measure.“So good, so fuckin’ good f’me.” Every syllable is punctuated with another snap of his pelvis. The heart pendant hanging from your necklace bounces against your chest with each movement. “‘M coming, coming all f’you, take it, baby.” He spills into the condom with a satisfied groan, the force of his final thrusts sending you over the edge.

His plush lips leave tender kisses along the side of your neck, delaying his inevitable withdrawal. “That was…holy shit,” he breathes with a kind laugh. You wince as he pulls out of you, already far too empty for your liking. Nimble fingers knot the used latex, dropping it into the wire trashcan beside the desk.

“Y’okay?” Eddie asks when he notices your silence. Worry creases his brows. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His gaze drops to the flesh he’d just spanked, gently running his palm over it in an attempt to soothe. “I might’ve gotten carried away—”

“‘M good,” you reassure him, having finally found your voice. You giggle as he breathes an audible sigh of relief. “I like when you’re a little rough with me,” you admit, heat creeping up the back of your neck.

Eddie cocks his head. “Yeah?” He fixes your skirt, ensuring that everything is covered, before tucking himself back into his jeans.

“Yeah.” There’s a shy smile on your face as you turn and face him, leaning in so your mouths can meld together. His hands cup your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, tongue tentatively nudging yours as though asking permission. You eagerly allow him in, one finger hooked on his belt loop.

Even when he’s playing a dominant role, withholding your pleasure until he sees fit, it’s no less intimate than when you make sweet, sensitive love. Relinquishing autonomy carves out a path for security and respect, two facets that Eddie takes to heart. He’s learned to read your body like a map, knowing exactly where to touch you—and where not to touch you—and how to bring you to your tipping point.

“How am I supposed to continue my shift after that?” he asks, still remaining close enough that the slightly chapped skin of his lips scratch yours. The two of you exchange breaths, utterly intoxicated on each other. “Gonna be thinking about my perfect girl the rest of the day.” His teeth gently nip at you when he speaks. “This beautiful face…beautiful hands…” He drops to his knees and pulls your waist closer to him, hands strong on the small of your back. “Beautiful stomach…beautiful legs…”

You laugh, fully and heartily, unable to take your eyes off of the man paying reverence to your body. “Eddie, get up,” you chastise teasingly, stumbling a little as he clings to you harder. “And give me back my panties.”

Eddie pouts, lower lip jutting out in anticipated protest. “But–”

“I have to go grocery shopping,” you tell him, trying to reach into his back pocket to grab at the lacy fabric sticking out, but he shifts away too quickly. “You want me walking around Bradley’s all exposed?”

A mischievous grin spreads across Eddie’s face, activating the dimples in his cheeks. “Well…”

You cross your arms over your chest, snug underneath your breasts. “Really? What if I have to bend down to get, I dunno, peanut butter? And then some random guy–or maybe someone we know, like Jason Carver–” your nose wrinkles, disgusted at the mere mention of his name, “what if he gets a glimpse of–”

“Okay, okay, you win.” Eddie huffs, standing up as he tosses it over. You triumphantly slide them back up your legs, feeling your cooled slick from earlier in the afternoon against your core. “But only because I don’t want anyone else seeing what I get to see.” He delicately bites your earlobe, well aware that if he continues down this path, he’ll be hard again.

You shiver at his subtle possessiveness, fighting the temptation to undress him and beg for him to be inside you again. The desire is so overpowering that you almost forget the second reason you’d stopped by the store this afternoon.

“Eds? Could I ask you for a favor?”

“Shit, baby,” he laughs, snaking a hand up your shirt as he sucks on your neck, “I’d give you a fuckin’ kidney right now if that’s what you wanted.”

“‘M serious,” you press, hoping his doesn’t notice the way your voice catches in your throat. His thumbs center on your bra cups, caressing the underwire and letting his fingers slip underneath. “Th-There’s this teacher appreciation luncheon that the PTA is hosting, and we can bring a date.”

The unspoken remainder of your question bears a hefty implication: a public confirmation of a relationship previously only fueled by the small-town rumor mill.

Eddie is unfazed by your hesitance, enchanted by the soft skin below his calloused palm. He’s determined to memorize it, each dip and curve and the way you fit perfectly in his hands. “When is it?” His breath tickles your exposed neck. He doesn’t wait for a response before adding, “I just have to ask Wayne to watch Harris.”

“Saturday. A-A week from yesterday.” You swallow your nerves, wondering if he’s going to pick up on the reason behind your anxiety. If he’ll feel it, too. “But there’ll probably be some parent volunteers there, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You grimace at the thought of him walking into the room, shell-shocked when he sees their unwelcome sneers. “They need a final headcount tomorrow,” you don’t add that the invitation had been sent earlier last week, and you’d been putting off asking until the last possible minute, “but if you can’t, or you don’t want to–”

He interrupts your rambling with a kiss, sloppy in its urgency. “I don’t care if Mrs. O’Donnell herself shows up. I want to go.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says with a dismissive wave. “The point is, I’d love to be your date. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he grins, conspicuously adjusting himself over his pants, “one of us has to work.”

You swat at his backside, hitching your purse over your shoulder and smoothing down your skirt again. “Need anything from the store?”

It’s an innocuous question; you’ll just add whatever he says to the list you’ve scribbled on a piece of scrap paper, safely tucked away in your bag. To Eddie, it’s enough to tug on the corners of his lips, which he tries to hide by scratching at the shadow of stubble on his cheeks. It creates an image of the two of you sharing a home, Harris sitting at the kitchen table with a bowlful of cereal, as you prepare to do the family shopping. Or maybe the three of you would go together, Harris helping push the cart while scouring the shelves for whatever sugar-laden junk food he’s obsessed with that week. Later, Eddie would lean over to grab a bag of apples from the produce department, hand gently brushing along your back as he does it. He doesn’t care who sees; hell, he hopes everyone notices the way you allow him to touch you so casually. No shame, no pretending. You might even intertwine your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, claiming him in your own way.

“Nah, baby, ‘m good,” he tells you, chuckling when you shoot him a knowing look. “Fine, Harris could use some more mac and cheese. Whatever’s on sale.”

You make a mental note to pick up a few boxes, lips gingerly kissing Eddie’s nose like a butterfly perched on a daisy.

Eddie watches the sway of your hips as you leave his office, fingertips pressing into his desk as he wracks his brain to determine how he’s managed to conjure up the luck to be with you. He’d always assumed that he’d never find someone who understood his unconventional experiences, who recognized the puzzle of emotions that accompanied those memories.

He hadn’t considered the prospect of meeting you: a person who not only saw his brokenness, but the whole parts of him, too. A man who loved his son with a fierceness that envied a mother bear’s, whose passion for music kept him afloat during the most trying years of his life, who couldn’t quite turn his back on his dreams despite the entire world seemingly persuading him to do so. You saw the good and the bad and loved him for all of it.

He certainly never thought about what it would feel like to love wholly. He recalls the fateful night in the emergency room, when he began to realize the lengths you went to for the people you cared about. The time he’d burst into your classroom after the conference with Ms. Marion, and despite his previous pattern of behavior, you’d comforted him and offered to spend your free time tutoring Harris. Even the gig when he saw you for the very first time and let his lust lead the way, fate had the last laugh when you fell asleep in his arms like you were made to fit there.

And then there are the less-than-ideal parts of you. The way you keep your feelings bottled up until they boil over in a flood of emotions that Eddie is still learning to sort out. The way you forget to take care of yourself in favor of looking after others. The way you believe you are simultaneously too much and not enough, allowing your insecurities to stampede over any and all logic.

It’s what makes you human, what makes you you. And Eddie loves you even more for letting him see that side of you.

If loving someone fully–and being loved fully–means confirming the gossip about the teacher and the freak, he’ll do it one hundred times over for you.

Your phone rings mere minutes after you finish packing away the groceries. Food shopping on Sundays is always the worst; stores are overcrowded, filled with parents and children losing their patience, and you’re fairly certain that you spent more time waiting in line to pay than you did actually perusing the aisle. You pluck the ripest banana from the bunch and peel it as you cradle the receiver between your cheek and shoulder. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby.” Eddie’s voice is honey-dipped on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Eds.” You lean up against the wall, body already feeling lighter. “You and Harris’ll be glad to know that I have secured the macaroni and cheese.”

There’s a sound of movement from his side, and you hear him say, “Har Bear, Ms. Sweetheart got your mac and ch–hey, give me that–”

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris bellows, and you instinctively move the phone from your ear at the sudden noise. “When are you gonna come to my house and play?”

You laugh, struck by his enthusiasm. “Soon. I promise,” you tell him, meaning every word. Your heart swells at the thought of you, Harris, and Eddie working together to construct a Lego building, both Munsons deep in concentration with their tongues poking from their mouths. “Can you put your dad back on the phone?”

“Okay!” he chirps. “Bye! Love you!”

“Love you, too, Har.” You’re fairly certain that he’s already dashed out of the room, never one to sit still for long, but it occurs to you that he doesn’t even need to hear you say it back. He just knows that you love him in the way that you keep a smile on your face as you gently help him sound out new words, or chase him around the playground until you’re both winded from giggling and running, or share in his excitement at any accomplishment.

Eddie clears his throat when he gets on the line. “So, uh, I forgot to ask–what am I wearing to this luncheon thing?” He’s praying that it’s nothing too upscale; new clothes are not exactly within his budget right now.

To his relief, you say with a teasing lilt in your tone, “A button-down shirt and some jeans without holes in them, if possible.” You take a small bite of fruit, chewing as you speak. “Sneakers should be fine.”

“I can manage that,” he laughs. He doesn’t want to end the conversation yet, so he chooses to ask the first question that comes to mind. “Whatcha eating?”

“Banana.”

“Shit.” He clutches the phone cord in his hand, nearly yanking it out of the jack. A long exhale shoots static through the receiver. “Don’t do this to me.”

It takes a moment for you to figure out what this is. “Eddie Munson,” you start, not even trying to mask your amusement, “are you getting turned on because I’m eating a banana?”

“And now you’re making fun of me? In my hour of need?” He tuts softly, making you laugh even harder. “Evil, evil woman.”

“That’s me. I’m just the worst.” You take another bite to knowingly torture him.

“The absolute worst.” Eddie amends. He tucks his thumbnail between his teeth., incisor digging into the exposed crescent moon. His joking intonation makes way for authenticity as he says, “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too.” Your voice is small but strong, so assured in your declaration to him. “See you tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll bring the coffee.”

The buzzer rings promptly at noon on Saturday, just as you’re swiping on a final coat of lipstick. You take a look in the mirror, giving a quick twirl as your green lapel floral button-up dress flows out around you and recentering the heart pendant on your necklace.

Your Mary Jane Doc Martens are loud on the floor as you shuffle to let Eddie in. There’s no denying the way your stomach flip-flops with excited anticipation. You’ve seen him dressed up before: at Grandma’s funeral, on your Valentine’s Day date, but the sight never gets old.

He’s standing in the doorway, looking every bit as delicious as you’d imagined. His maroon button-down is neatly tucked into black jeans, cuffs rolled to his elbows and showing off his myriad forearm tattoos. He’s freshly shaved, and you can see a tiny red speck where he’d accidentally nicked himself with the blunted razor this morning.

“What d’you think?” he asks, spinning around in a way that’s almost identical to the 360-degree view you’d gotten of yourself. “Harris said I look too fancy, but I didn’t have time to change, so…”

You shake your head. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” you tell him truthfully, arms wrapping around his waist as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “There’s just one thing.” You tug at the rubber band that encases his curls in a low ponytail until it slides onto your wrist, setting his hair free. “There we go.”

Eddie frowns, haphazardly smoothing down the hair that’s already beginning to frizz despite the mountains of product he’d applied in a futile attempt to tame it. “Y’sure?”

“Positive. You look more…” You consider your words carefully, “…more like you with your hair all wild like that.”

“That’s a good thing?” He cocks his head in disbelief, and you can’t help but kiss him again. This time, you let your tongue explore him as your fingers twist into the cotton blend of his shirt. His hands start on your cheeks, then gradually work their way down to your ass. A sudden grab of the supple flesh has you yelping slightly, muffled by his mouth on yours. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says with a laugh, the tip of his nose nudging against your earlobe. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he murmurs, inhaling the floral scent of the perfume you’d meticulously sprayed on your pulse points.

A familiar need builds at the apex of your thighs, and if your suspicions are correct, Eddie feels it, too. The temptation to undo every last one of his shirt buttons is strong, sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a blade.

Surprisingly, it’s Eddie who breaks away, though it takes every ounce of willpower to do so. “C’mon, let’s get going,” he whispers, chuckling when you pout in defiance. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that you’ve come to learn means he has something up his sleeve. “Don’t worry, babe; when we come back, I plan on showing you a little teacher appreciation of my own.”

The tantalizing scent of Italian food permeates Hawkins Preschool’s cafeteria, replacing the usual smell of freezer-burned chicken nuggets and fries. Green and gold cloths cover the tables, with the buffet from Enzo’s at the front of the room, a small crowd having already gathered to grab some food.

You spot Will immediately; he waves you over to a table in the corner. Marshall is seated next to him, offering an enthusiastic smile as you set your purse down on the bench.

“Go get something to eat,” Will tells you and Eddie, motioning to the spread. “We can watch your stuff.”

Eddie needs no further convincing; Enzo’s has been considered a delicacy for the Munsons since it first opened. He can probably count the number of times he’s eaten there on one hand. You watch as he eyes the options, silently calculating how much he can fit on his paper plate.

“Food from this cafeteria never looks so good,” you joke softly, so only his ears can hear. “Wanna take a little of everything? And we can split it?

Eddie nods, picking up a serving spoon and digging clumsily into the tray of lasagna. Marinara sauce oozes over the sides of the oversized utensil as he scoops out a hearty serving. The piece lands on his plate with a plop, and you take a step back to avoid it splattering on your dress. He apologizes quietly, but you just smile and pick up a napkin, dabbing at the stain forming on his shirt collar.

“Haven’t even been here five minutes and I’m already making a mess,” he grumbles, using the tongs to snag some chicken parmesan, much more deliberate in his actions.

You click your tongue in mock disapproval. “I really can’t take you anywhere, huh?” You fish out a meatball, sopping with sauce, from another foil tray before serving a generous portion of the house salad. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat the olives,” you tease, flicking some dressing over the pile of greens.

Eddie uses the hand not balancing his plate to grab two knives, two forks, and a fistful of napkins. “Shit,” he mutters, glancing at the bottles of Poland Spring nestled at the end of the table, “we need drinks.”

It takes a minute for you to mentally assess the situation before you figure out a plan. “Give me that,” you point to his plate, crooking your finger and motioning towards yourself until he hands it to you. “Now you can get the water.” Your conscience tugs at you, aware that this goes beyond beverages and some spilled sauce. “Hey,” you say softly. If you weren’t holding two full plates, you would rest your palm on his bicep and give it a squeeze. “It’s just you and me, okay? Everyone else is background noise.”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles tightly, wedging the two bottles between his elbow and his ribs. Background noise is the perfect description, considering that you’re the melody that plays on a loop in his brain, yet he never gets tired of hearing it. His internal song had been entirely composed of bass notes, and you’re a treble clef.

The two of you sit down next to Will and Marshall, who waste no time making conversation.

“So, Eddie,” Marshall starts, twirling spaghetti around his fork, “I know these two wrangle kids all day; what do you do for a living?”

“I manage Rock Records, over on Porter,” Eddie says, chest swelling with pride. Selling for Rick required him to pretend like he was unemployed or ‘between jobs,’ often earning him judgmental side-eyes. Now, he can answer honestly and without shame. “What about you?”

Marshall chews and swallows before answering. “I’m in sales at Bell Atlantic, but, uh,” he reaches over and takes Will’s hand, “I’m thinking about moving to Hawkins, so I’ll have to find something new, unless I want to commute to Indy every day.”

You lean over the table to wrap Will in a hug. “Congratulations!” you exclaim, eyes bright with excitement. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“It’s not official yet,” Will clarifies, though he readily accepts your embrace, “but we can start the process once Marsh gets a job here.”

Eddie rubs his jaw thoughtfully, using the side of his fork to slice the meatball in half, then half again. “Sales?” he repeats, spearing a piece of food. “I think our sales department is hiring, actually. If you give me your resume, I can push it through.”

Both Marshall and Will light up at the idea, beaming from ear to ear. “That would be amazing!” Will chirps.

“Thanks, man,” Marshall says gratefully. You can see the gears turning in his head as he pictures his future with Will coming to fruition. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“‘Course.” Eddie swipes his tongue over the sauce in the corner of his mouth and smiles. “When you find someone who’s willing to stay in this town for you, you gotta hang on to them.” His fingers drape over yours, thumb grazing your bare ring finger. “Trust me.”

Your body warms at his touch, sunshine radiating through you from the inside. You want to remind him how absurdly easy he is to love, that you’d live anywhere as long as you could guarantee falling asleep in his arms each night. If you could bottle up the fuzzy feeling that you get every time he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing purposeful kisses along the nape, you would do it in a heartbeat.

A peal of cruel laughter hooks into you, unwillingly drawing your attention from the conversation to the woman standing off to the side. She speaks as though she’s trying to talk under her breath, but you know that you’re meant to hear her. “Told you, Steve: the teacher and the Freak,” she says with a smirk that you’re tempted to smack clean off of her face.

Your fingers clench around your fork so forcefully that it threatens to snap in half. The fact that anyone could be in their third decade of life and still build themselves up by cutting others down is absurd to you, perhaps because you spend most of your time teaching children the importance of intentional kindness.

Adrenaline surges through your veins in a classic battle of fight versus flight as you weigh your options. You could release the scream that you’ve trapped in your throat, throttling her with a barrage of hurtful words until she’s a sniveling mess. It’s too tempting, and you would have a difficult time talking yourself out of it if she wasn’t your student’s parent.

You could act like you hadn’t heard her, as improbable as that possibility is. It’s certainly the more mature decision, and one that would ensure your job security, but that just fuels the brewing anger with the knowledge that Carol would win whatever messed-up game she’s playing.

Eddie sits next to you, facing a similar silent dilemma. He could turn heel and run, storming off in a fit of fury, assuring himself that you’d be fine with Will and Marshall. He could shrink into himself until the moment passes and Carol moves onto a new target. He could leap on the table like he would have back in high school, make a scene and embarrass the hell out of everybody–but that would include you, and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

He can tell by the way your jaw goes rigid that you’re holding back, that you’re trying to remain professional. An involuntarily grin twitches on his lips as he thinks about you eschewing all maturity and absolutely laying into Carol. He knows you can’t do that, as much as you both want to.

But he can.

“So glad you could take a break from cheating on your husband to be here, Carol.” He keeps a bright, innocent smile glued to his face as he feigns enthusiasm. You have to bite your lower lip to stifle a cackle; out of the corner of your eye, you can see Will covering his mouth and nose to keep from spitting out the sip of Pepsi he’d just downed.

Carol’s face blanches, obviously not expecting Eddie’s retort. Steve Harrington wasn’t either, and the “ha!” that escapes him is evidence of it. When Carol shoots death glares at him, he just shrugs, raising his brows as if to say, if you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen.

With a muted string of swear words that none of you care to decipher, Carol huffs and stomps off. Steve glances for a moment, rolling his eyes at her theatrical display. “Sorry about…” he gestures vaguely at her sulking form as she whines to another parent unlucky enough to be in her warpath. “Anyway, um, my wife is at home with Josh, but we’re so grateful to both of you for everything you’ve done for him.” He gives a half smile, nodding at you and Will. “Not just with, like, school stuff, but teaching him how to play with other kids without it turning into a WWE Smackdown.” He sucks his lips to his teeth and shakes his head with a small laugh.

“That’s our job!” you chirp, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, still riding the high of watching Carol slink off, proverbial tail between her legs.

“Well, it means a lot,” Steve continues, pink tinging the apples of his cheeks as he confides, “especially because he’s going to have a little brother or sister in a few months. He was actually telling us how he’s excited to share his toys with the new baby. We thought Hell was freezing over.”

Pride swells up in Eddie's chest while he rubs your upper back; a small gesture with incalculable meaning. That’s my girl, he muses, eyes widening when you scoot into him so his arm drapes over your shoulder. You lace your fingers with his and pull them down so they graze your bicep as you continue talking with Steve, as natural as can be. No shying away, no denying the existence of the teacher and the Freak. You claim Eddie as yours, and a soft kiss to your temple claims you as his.

The conversation with Steve ends shortly after that, and you congratulate him again on the upcoming addition to the Harrington family. You, Eddie, Will, and Marshall decide to head out once you’ve finished eating.

“Thanks again, man,” Marshall says as he shakes Eddie’s hand. “I’ll swing by on Monday with my resume.”

“Don’t mention it.” Eddie claps him on the back. Truthfully, he’s just grateful to not be the person receiving help. The universe had granted him chance after chance; it’s about time he’s able to do something for someone else.

Will turns to you just as you all near the double doors, illuminated by fluorescent lighting and a bright red EXIT sign. “Did you bring home the rest of the progress reports?”

You throw your head back, blowing out a breath of frustration. “Shit, I totally forgot.” You rifle through your purse until you find the silver key that’s been shoved to the bottom and make an about-face towards your classroom. “You’re a lifesaver. I owe you big time.”

“Just give me a special mention in your Teacher of the Year speech,” he jokes, but you catch the sparkle of admiration in his eyes at your dedication—even if it follows a memory lapse.

Eddie trails right behind you as you unlock the door, dropping the key back in your bag for safekeeping. “Sorry, babe,” you apologize, “I just need to grab the papers and we can get out of here.”

“Take your time.” He plops down in the chair behind your desk, fingers thrumming along the oversized calendar you’ve marked up with various due dates and events. “I’ll stay out of trouble. Wouldn’t want to get…punished…or anything.” He looks up at you with a knowing smirk that droops into a frown when you ignore his entendré.

He swivels around when you move from the right side of your desk to your left, rummaging around for a clip to provide some semblance of organization. “I can be the teacher’s pet, y’know,” he continues, one fingernail lightly trailing up your arm. “I’m not opposed to doing whatever it takes to get an A.” Broad hands broach either side of your waist, but you pull away to pluck a Post-It from the stack and stick it atop the reports.

It’s when you lean over to grab a pen that the pent-up tension becomes too overwhelming for him; the way your ass is perfectly framed by your dress has him awestruck. Mine, mine, all mine, loops through his head as he tugs on your hips so you’re sitting on his lap.

“Don’t mind me.” His lips slowly kiss down your spine, busy fingers bunching your dress fabric up your thighs. “You keep doin’ what you gotta do, pretty girl.”

You exhale with a tired laugh. “The sooner I get this done, the sooner we can go home and you can show me some of that ‘teacher appreciation’ you promised.”

“Or,” Eddie counters, turning your chin so you can see the adorable pout he’s now sporting, “I could appreciate you right here.”

“Eddie!”

“Yeah, say my name,” he mumbles, half-teasing while still relishing in the way it sounds on your lips. “C’mon, can’t we just fool around a little bit?”

You swoop down to kiss him, tongue discreetly slipping into his mouth as your fingers curl into his hair. His hands roam your body, already fumbling with the column of buttons down your back. While he’s distracted, you break away and stand up, leaving him noticeably hard beneath his slacks. “Nope.”

He lets out an anguished groan, but ultimately relents so you can finish your work undistracted—save for the throbbing between your legs. With a hasty scribble of your Bic pen, you label the last of the reports and clutch the stack to your chest.

“We can go now,” you tell him, and he’s standing up and practically running out the door before you can finish speaking.

Your back is turned to him while you lock up, but you can still hear him skid to a stop and blurt out, “Sorry, Mrs. Sinclair.”

Your boss’s laughter trills through the hallway, and you can feel your tension ease until she asks him, “What’s got you in such a hurry?”

Don’t say something ridiculous; nothing that’ll make it impossible for me to show my face on Monday. You squeeze your eyes shut in desperation, anxiety absolved only when he replies, “Just gotta pick my son up from my uncle’s place.”

“How is Wayne doing?” There’s a smile in her voice. “Is he still working at the plant?”

“Uh-huh. Cut back his hours so he can spend more time with Harris.” Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets and sits on his heels to disguise the tented crotch area. “A-And how’re Lucas and Erica?”

“Oh, they’re great,” Sue chirps, seizing the opportunity to brag about her children. “Lucas told me he saw you at Will’s party; he’s really doing well with his sports management business. And Erica just graduated, pre-law, and she’ll be off to Harvard in the fall.” She rests a hand on his shoulder, concern creasing her brows. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Eddie nods overzealously. “Y-Yep. Feeling great. Everything is, uh, peachy keen.” He gives a thumbs-up to solidify his statement, and you have to stop yourself from snickering.

As soon as they say their goodbyes, you shuffle over to your flustered boyfriend, wrapping him in a hug from behind, hands resting on the soft pudge of his tummy. “‘Peachy keen?’” you prod, giggles bubbling in your chest at the mere mention of his word choice. “I was expecting you to throw in a ‘jelly bean’ at the end there.”

Eddie reaches around and pulls you so you’re tucked beneath his shoulder. “You’re so fuckin’ lucky you’re cute,” he quips, but the way you eagerly snuggle into him serves as a reminder that he’s the lucky one.

Gray clouds have been threatening a storm all day, sagging low in the sky with oversaturation. The air is thick with humidity when you and Eddie make your brief walk to his car, the telltale first drops of rain staining the pavement and permeating the atmosphere with a dewy scent.

There’s a clap of thunder just as you’re fastening your seatbelt and Eddie’s turning the key in the ignition; it startles you both more than you’d care to admit, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rain pours in sudden opaque sheets, dashing any dreams you had of fooling around on your drive home; all of his focus is centered on getting you home in one piece. You settle for resting your hand on his knee, missing the usual rips and tears in the fabric so you can easily make skin-on-skin contact.

Eddie grips the wheel at ten and two, keeping a steady foot on the gas pedal as he crawls along the uneven road. His tongue pokes from between his lips as it often does when he’s concentrating. Drops thwack against the sedan’s hood and drown out the sounds of the Dio cassette he’d popped into the stereo system on the ride over to the school. At this point, he could be playing Alanis Morisette; the combination of the rain and the vigorous back-and-forth of the windshield wipers is too noisy for him to tell the difference.

The fifteen minute drive to your apartment takes an additional ten, but you’re both just grateful to arrive in one piece. You both take a few seconds to pause, assessing the intensity of the storm. You’ll be soaked by the time you reach the front door even if you take off your heeled shoes and dart barefoot through the parking lot.

“We can wait a few minutes and see if it slows,” you offer, but the constant rainfall has you questioning just how long you’ll be sitting in the car.

Eddie is thinking similarly, because he just shakes his head and kills the engine. In the absence of the music and the wipers, the pounding raindrops are even louder. He practically has to shout for you to hear him. “I say we make a run for it.” He grips the door handle, and you do the same. “On three. Ready?” When you nod, he begins counting. “One…two…three!”

The doors fly open with the force of your own strength and the howling winds. You shriek as cold water pelts your skin, gluing your dress to your body so the formerly loose garment hugs every curve.

You slip your hand into Eddie’s as the two of you race towards the tattered green awning covering the building’s entrance. It provides little shelter, but it’s better than nothing as you scramble to unlock the door.

“You even look pretty like this,” Eddie muses, clicking his tongue against his cheek. “‘S kind of ridiculous, y’know that?”

“You’re kind of ridiculous,” you laugh, wringing the hem of your dress before pulling the door open. Eddie catches it behind you, holding it so you can walk ahead of him. Once inside, he shakes his hair like a dog fresh out of the bath and flicks water everywhere: the already slippery tile floors, the glass window panes, and even you. You try and glare at him, but your giddiness betrays you, already heading towards your unit in hurried anticipation of his full and unadulterated attention to your body.

You’d left the fan going in the apartment, and the chill instantly infiltrates your bones. Your arms instinctively wrap around your torso, but Eddie’s having none of it.

“C’mere, pretty little thing,” he coos, unraveling you before cradling your cheeks in his hands, nose brushing yours. “Lemme warm you up.”

He says this, but his actions have the opposite intention. His fingers fly to your dress buttons with unbridled urgency, fumbling with the hooks to no avail. He could easily stop kissing you long enough to properly attend to the task, but that’s seemingly not an option. “Fuck it,” he swears against your lips, and before you can question it, you feel a rush of cool air against your back. A dozen tiny buttons clatter to the ground as he nearly rips the dress in half, already sucking on the skin above your collarbone.

“Been wanting to do that all day,” he confesses, pushing the torn fabric down until it pools around your ankles, leaving you in only your bra, panties, and shoes. “Baby, baby, baby; you got me so hard it fuckin’ hurts.”

You can feel him, the way his cock strains against his pants like it’s begging for release. “I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, undoing his button and zipper with far more grace than he undressed you.

“If it’s lingerie, can we save it for another time?” he asks, exhaling as he gets some relief from the pressure in his jeans. “Because if you’re not naked in the next ten seconds, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

You laugh at his candor. “Nope, not lingerie.” His teeth dig into his lower lip as you cup his bulge over his boxers. “Remember a few weeks ago when we talked about our fantasies?”

“Mhm. Vividly.” Eddie smirks as his hand snakes around your throat, not gripping it quite yet, but the motion still awakens the butterflies in your stomach.

“W-Well, I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago so I could get on the pill.” Your words have him frozen in place, and he steps back to assess your facial expression.

“Like, the pill?”

“The pill,” you confirm with an excited giggle, starting on his shirt buttons to reveal the white tank top beneath. “So we can, I dunno, play pretend until we’re ready for the real thing?”

His eyes practically roll back in his head. “Fuck, I fuckin’ love you. Holy shit.” It’s not just the fact that you’re about to let him finish inside you—although he certainly has no complaints about that—but it’s mostly the way you’ve embraced his most intimate desires. He’s been conducting some research of his own to learn how to dominate a partner, waiting for the perfect opportunity to showcase his newfound knowledge. “Need you. Now.” His voice trembles on the last word despite the strength behind it.

The two of you stumble into your room, shedding your remaining clothes in a trail towards the bed until you’re both wearing nothing at all. Eddie grabs your ass and squeezes, growling in desperation. “Perfect body, Jesus Christ. Was made f’me.” His lips attach to your exposed nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue over the pert bud. He switches to the other, slotting his leg between yours so his thigh presses against your core.

“Eddie, please.” You make no attempt to mask your desperation; the feeling of your slick on his upper leg would give you away regardless. “I’ve been thinking about you filling me up…just…please.”

He nods, letting you lay back on the mattress so he can climb on top of you. “You want my cum, baby?” He leaves delicate kisses on your stomach, so close to your pussy but still too far.

“Mhm.”

“Then you gotta earn it.” He’s smirking at you, delighted to watch you squirm needily. “Leaning over in front of me at the school and then not even letting me touch you?” He tuts disapprovingly. “Doesn’t sound like something a good girl would do.”

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry,” you whine, “I swear I want it.” Your breath hitches as he slides one finger inside you, keeping his other hand in a tight fist around his cock.

He strokes himself, deliberate in each motion, never breaking eye contact with you. “Bet you wish this was around that pretty little throat of yours, huh?” He increases his pace. “Bet you wish I was inside you, too—don’t touch yourself.” His sudden gruffness leaves you taken aback, and he smacks your hand away from your clit before you can even start. “I never said you could do that.”

You whimper while he goes back to jerking himself, arching your back to bring him deeper.

“Y’want more? Use those words, Sweetheart.”

“More, more, I need it.” Nothing would be more delectable than being split open on his cock, your bodies bringing each other pleasure. There’s a small pressure as he adds another finger, not the fullness you’re craving but still satisfying nonetheless. “Eddie, fuck,” you moan as he curls them both, drawing you nearer to orgasm.

You think he’s finally going to give it to you when he lets go of his hardened length; instead, he wraps his newly free hand around your neck.

And, oh, the pathetic mewl that you let out as his grasp tightens, bewitched by his display of possessiveness. You teeter on the edge of release until he permits you, but there’s no holding back once he grunts, “your pussy’s got a fuckin’ vice grip on my fingers.”

You’re not quite sure why that does it for you, but it leaves you writhing beneath him in ecstasy. “Thassit, come f’me. Sweet girl, so eager that she can’t even wait for my cock.” He tilts his head thoughtfully, comically casual compared to the way he’s controlling your own actions. “Tell me: is it the fingering or the choking that’s got you like this?”

“B-Both,” you stammer; Eddie squeezes your throat in response. One ring has been spun around a sweat-slicked finger, and it carves a skull-shaped design into your delicate skin. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m–” Passionate intensity overpowers any further conversation, replacing words with strained, high-pitched moans.

“Good girl,” Eddie praises, his harsher dominance briefly fading and a softer side takes over as he works you through your orgasm. You feel the simultaneous loss of his fingers around your neck and inside your cunt, but you’re immediately distracted by him bringing his fingers into his mouth and sucking off your release. “You’re as delicious as you look.”

You smile, eyelids fluttering as your overstimulation subsides. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths as you collect yourself. “That was…” The synapses in your brain struggle to fire as you come down from the high. You prop yourself on your elbows. “Really, really good.”

His body sags with relief. “Wanted to make it perfect for you, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your lips tenderly. “Wanted to give you exactly what you asked for.”

“You did,” you promise him, shivering as you shift positions and lose the addition of his body heat. “And now…it’s my turn to make it perfect for you.”

Eddie’s about to rebut that it’s already perfect because it’s you and him drawing pleasure from each other’s bodies, when you maneuver onto all fours. “Oh, honey,” he groans, grabbing a handful of your ass, but he doesn’t broach your entrance right away. You twist so he can register the confused look on your face. “Just takin’ a mental picture for when you’re not around.” His eyes scan your body, erection throbbing against his stomach. “Mmkay, ‘m good.”

He pulls on your hips, signaling you to scoot back so he can align himself. The bare head of his cock nudging your hole has you trembling anticipatorily. Slowly, deliberately, he pushes into you. You can feel every ridge, every vein, his silky skin against your walls. “You…” he searches for a proper description but is betrayed by the blood flowing away from his brain. “Holy sh-shit.”

He’s still for a moment, just soaking in your direct warmth. His hips snap forward after what seems like eons; the fullness within you is heavenly. You could keep him inside forever with nary a complaint.

Eddie, meanwhile, is just grateful that he’s already made you come on his fingers, because he can’t imagine lasting long enough to do it again. The part of you that can still compile a cohesive thought realizes this, too, and you reassure him “take what you need, baby.”

“O-Okay.” His tone is tentative but his movements are not, finding a pace that makes his body hum. His brown eyes are glued to where you two connect, watching himself slide in and out. The soft shlick that comes with each thrust, your wetness drenching his dick more and more, is his own personal celestial chorus. There’s nothing separating you from each other anymore.

He’s addicted to you, the way you fill each of his senses in a perfumed cloud of desire. A patch of stickiness coats his upper thigh; he realizes that it’s your release trickling out of you and onto him. “Love when you cream my cock, mmm, fuck.” One hand lets go of your hip and cracks down on your ass, skin rippling under the sudden contact.

You let out a euphoric yelp, embracing the sting. Your cunt tenses around him with each plunge. “Just thinking about feeling you come inside me,” you purr. “Are you going to watch it drip down my legs? Hmm?”

Eddie shakes his head before he remembers you can’t see him. “N-Nah, ‘m gonna…” a grunt disrupts his sentence, “‘m gonna stuff it back in this pretty little pussy. An’ you’re gonna keep it inside.” He breathes in audible gasps as his pace increases. “Like my good–little–girl.” The last three words are each punctuated with a thrust.

“Want it to take s’fuckin’ bad,” he continues, the admission spilling from his lips involuntarily. “Want everyone to know that you’re mine, and only mine.”

You brace your body weight to your forearms, lifting your ass in the air to allow him impossibly deep. “Bet I’d look really good having your baby, Eddie. All cute and pregnant for you.”

That has him imagining you in the same position you’re in now, only his palm is splayed on the swell of a baby bump, your tits heavy with milk to nourish the life growing within your body. He spills into you without warning, just him crying out your name as he lets go. True to his word, he swipes at whatever cum has dripped out and gingerly pushes it in your pussy.

He flops down on his back, completely spent, not bothering to clean the rope of cum that now adorns his softening length. You rest your head on his chest, his cooling sweat matting down the sparse hairs and sticking to your temple.

“I love you,” he murmurs, fingers running up and down your arm. His lips easily find your forehead for a kiss. “You’re it for me, okay? Please don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t.” And you mean it. “I love you, too, Eddie.”

The two of you drift in and out of sleepiness for nearly an hour, safe in each other’s embrace, before he stirs you awake. “I gotta go get Harris in a few minutes,” he says, laughing when you groan your reply. “I know, I wish I could stay here forever.”`

“What if you did?”

Eddie furrows his brow. “I think that’s a little more babysitting than Wayne volunteered for.”

You swat at his chest playfully, rolling over so you can see his face. “No,” you laugh, nuzzling into his jaw. “I meant…what if you and Harris moved in once your lease is up? No pressure,” you rush to add, “but this is a two bedroom, so Harris could have his own space. I know you’ll have to think about it; I’m not looking for a decision right–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie interrupts kindly, silencing the ramble with a peck on your nose. “I don’t feel pressured. Trust me, if I didn’t have a kid to take care of, you’d never get rid of me.” He sighs and stretches, sitting up against the headboard, and you follow his lead. “Our lease is up at the end of next month. You’re the kid expert here; is that too soon to spring this on him? Will it, like, fuck him up irrevocably?”

You exhale, thinking about the best course of action. “Why don’t you ask him how he’d feel about it? Worst case scenario: he’s not ready and we’ll revisit it again in the future.”

“Are you sure? You won’t be mad or anything?” He’s treading cautiously as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. He loves Harris more than anything in the world, but there’s no denying that having a child furthers the complexities of dating.

You take his hand in yours and hold it tight. “We’re a team,” you remind him, kissing his bare shoulder. “Not just me and you, but Harris, too. I love you both, and I want you both to be happy here.”

Eddie’s heart could burst; he doesn’t know whether he needs to laugh or cry or some messy combination of the two. A team, you’re a team, and teammates stick together and look out for one another and keep each other afloat in choppy seas. It’s what he’d always wanted but never thought he’d have, or even deserve.

Now he’s got it, and he swears he won’t let it go.

Eddie dives right into the subject at dinner that night, not wanting to lose his nerve. He sits next to Harris, cutting a hot dog into bite-sized pieces and making sure that it doesn’t touch the pile of baked beans on his plate. His son has recently begun refusing to eat foods that have come in contact with each other, even if he likes both of them.

“Hey, Har,” Eddie starts, carefully sliding the paper plate in front of him. “I have a question for you.”

Harris barely pays attention, too fixated on getting the ketchup out of the bottle and onto the hot dog pieces. The bottle makes a pfft noise when he squeezes it, making him giggle. “Daddy, the ketchup farted!” He repeats the motion again and again, finding it funnier each time.

“Yeah, that’s silly,” Eddie halfheartedly agrees, taking the bottle from him. “But, Harris, I need to ask you something important.” He picks up his own hot dog wrapped in a slice of Wonder Bread and takes a bite. “How would you feel about me, you, and Ms. Sweetheart all living in her apartment?”

Harris’s eyes widen. “Like, together?”

Eddie nods. “Mhm. We wouldn’t live here anymore, but you’d take Grandma’s old room, and we can decorate it however you want.”

“I’d have my own room?”

“Yup.”

This provides more questions than answers for the young boy. “But then where are you gonna sleep?”

Eddie coughs to mask his laughter, not wanting to offend Harris’s curiosity. “Um, well, Ms. Sweetheart and I would share her room.” Our room, he thinks, wiping his mouth to hide a smile at the thought of you waking up in his arms every morning.

“But you’re not married.” Harris spears a piece of hot dog with a plastic fork. “You gotta be married first.”

“Sometimes people get married before they live together. But sometimes they do things out of order.” Like meet at a bar and hook up, only to find out that she’s your kid’s teacher, and then you loathe each other until you start to fall in love. “And that’s not a bad thing.” He measures the consideration on Harris’s little face. “But we’ll only do it if you’re okay with it. It would mean we’d have to pack up our stuff in boxes and bring it to Ms. Sweetheart’s place.”

Harris jumps up from his seat, nearly knocking over the food. “I have lots of boxes! We can start right now!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie puts up a hand to stop him, chuckling as he motions for Harris to come closer to him. “We have a few weeks before we can do anything. But are you one hundred percent sure–”

“YES!”

Eddie pulls his son in for a hug, tickling his sides and kissing the top of his head. Happiness fills their home, though it won’t be their home for much longer. “I love you, kiddo,” he mumbles into Harris’s hair.

“Daddy?”

“Ya?”

“Can we call Ms. Sweetheart and tell her?”

Eddie wipes his hands on his jeans, making a mental note to sweep up any crumbs later. “I think that’s a great idea.” He stands up and practically sprints to the phone. He can’t dial your number any faster if he tries.

You pick up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sweetheart.” You can hear the smile in his voice through the receiver. “We’re in.”

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui #smut

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macfrog · 10 months

Text

sex on fire | masterlist

ceo!joel miller x f!reader | ao3 | playlist

you've worked for joel miller for three years now, as his personal assistant. answering calls, organizing his schedule, fulfilling every request he could dream of. it pays well, you know you're good at it, and you get along with all of your coworkers. there's just one you get along with...a little too well.

please check out individual chapter content warnings before reading!!! this series features adult content.

series warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel is late 40s), inappropriate work relationship, cursing, alcohol + dr*g use, displays of wealth, daddy kink, sugardaddy!joel, themes of abandonment, mentions of pregnancy & periods, smut, angst, fluff.

main series

chapter 1: you shook me all night long

chapter 2: state-of-the-art

chapter 3: mile high

chapter 4: la petite mort

chapter 5: faire l'amour

chapter 6: ace

chapter 7: 1691 maple

chapter 8: you'll hurt me if you don't trust me

chapter 9: little aphrodite

✨ chapter 10: champagne problems ✨

chapter 11: coming soon!

chapter 12

epilogue

bonus

➵ hanging on the telephone

drabbles

➵ joel taking reader on his sailboat

features ➵ sex on fire wallpapers by @dundienominee

➵ sex on fire moodboard by @5oh5

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hidden-poet · 5 months

Text

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns.

Previous chapter

Chapter 2

next chapter

The next day you move yourself and your mother to a friends house. Where you both sleep on the floor in the living room. It costs you half a panem a night but it was still a better living arrangement then laying awake until the yearly hours of the morning wondering if a peacekeeper would knock down your door.

You keep your head down. Going straight from work to the house. It seemed to pay off. Your neighbor had reported that the parcels had stopped after a peacekeeper had noticed it was the community and not the intended taking it.

You don't hear from Commander Snow. There was no summons or arrest order made for you.

It leads you to relax bit. He had probably moved on to another after realizing that you would not sell yourself for a pardon and a weekly box of food. You knew many others would, and you wished them the best of luck with their endeavor with Commander Snow. But your nature pushed away such opportunities. You couldn't even tell him you weren't interested to his face. Fear only played a part in that decision.

It was late now as you walked home from you job. Later then usual as your boss had offered you overtime to clean and organize the cold room. You gladly accepted with the added cost of your stay at your friends house.

Four shiny coins had been placed in your hand before you had even done the job. You couldn't believe she was willing to pay this much for such a simple job. You wondered if it was repayment for all your years of hard work for her.

You were never late, always made sure your jobs were done to a standard of excellence, you even stayed back to help train the new people.

All your hard work was finally being rewarded. You made sure to leave the space the best it had ever been.

The money was at least a month's work.

You hadn't written to your brother in so long due to the cost of the paper and shipping fees but now with your extra cash you could reach out.

You make the journey to the stationary store, getting in just before close and go around the back of the building. Using the flat wall as a writing pad.

Your brother had gone to district 8 after influenza swept through killing half their work force. They had asked for volunteers to relocate. Many young men offered. The pay was higher in district 8 as the Capital had a great need for the fabrics and manufacture that it produced. Your brother was picked being effortlessly strong and healthy.

The day he left was the worst day of your life. You miss him terribly, only communicating through letters which were expensive and took ages to find its way to its destination.

You tell him how much you miss him, and worry about him over at district 8. That your mother is well, and prays for him every night before bed. You thank him for the money he sends when he can. Telling him of your own good fortune with the coins, and how he was to spend his half on a cold drink if he could get one, and a night out on the town.

Your pen stills as your thoughts turn to Commander Snow. Should you tell your brother of the strange officer. He was always protective. Would he try and come back to district 12 for you. would they even let him.

You decide not to. It would only worry him, and in his worry he would make rash decisions. You would not be responisble for his harm.

Instead you reiterate how much you miss him, and warn him to write back soon.

You drop two of the coins and the pencil back into the envelope, sealing it shut and stuffing it in your pocket. It was too late to ship it off. You would have to wait until tomorrow.

You felt scared walking back to the house with the money as if people could sense it in your pocket.

You remind yourself your being silly as you walk through the road dividing the streets. There was no one else out at this time. Only you, and you were nearly to the safety of the house.

There was no street lamps in the districts. The only light coming from the houses you pass. You try to remain in the light but sway slightly into the shadows as you reach the steps of your accommodation.

You scream as you feel hands upon your skin. One going around your mouth to quiet you and the other pulling you back against the house.

"Sh sh, Its just me. It's just me. You're safe".

You feel your kness tremble as you pin the voice to a face. Commander snow stood before you, using his body to press you up against the side of the house. His chest pushed against your shoulders, his leg pushed between yours and melded to the wall behind. He kept his left hand on your right shoulder to keep you still and only removed his right hand from your mouth when you went mute. Who would you scream for that could do anything any way.

With his body pressed against yours in such a tight manner, he had free use of his hands.

You weren't getting out from under him, even you realized that. You looked for guns or knife on him but found nothing in the light the moon and surrounding houses offered. He didn't wear his official Capital issued Commander uniform. Instead he dressed down in high waisted black pants, and a long sleeved cotton shirt. He still wore his dog tags and army boots.

'So this is were you've been hiding, hm?". He ran his knuckles along your cheek bone, and you shuddered from his touch.

"No, Sir".

"yes, Sir. I left boxes at your house like a fool".

You could tell he was upset with you.

"It's fine. You'll be back there tomorrow to take the food in. Did you go through my first box i sent?"

You nod your head and a smile appears on his lips.

'What did you have first?". He pushes back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"My mother had a apple" You torn it from her after her first bite.

"i asked what you had first". He pressed his body harder against you.

"We haven't touched the box otherwise, Sir. We can give it back to you. We can compensate for the veggies and the fru-"

He was not happy with your answer, cutting you off.

"Ungrateful brat".

"Sir, we never asked you for it and we don't have money to pay for it"

"You're welcome" his pointer runs along your nose, "I can't have my partner in crime going hungry. Now can I".

You shiver from the familiar way of speaking. You did not want the Commander of district 12 to have a nic-name for you.

"I ought to go inside. They are waiting for me".

You try and move away, thinking he would release you. His cover would be blown if they take to looking for you.

He does not, choosing to place his hands around your neck. Not showcasing his great strength but resting in warning. His thumbs press gently into your throat.

"i think they can wait a few more minutes. Don't you?".

You nod as much as his hold would allow you to. You felt as if he was all around you. With his body wedging you flat against the wall, you felt as if you were sharing the same breath.

"you're ok" He repeats, "i am not going to hurt you".

"Perhaps it would put me at ease if you stepped back a bit, sir"

He shakes his head, "You have a habit of running away".

"You have a habit of appearing out of no where".

You can see him grin under the dim light. That was intentional, He always wanted you to feel as if he was always watching and could turn up at any moment.

"Can you make me some more of those oat bars?"

"Ye-yes" you stutter.

"Do you have the ingredients?"

"yes" you repeat.

"Good. Bring them to my office the day after next".

"Yes, Sir. Can I go now?"

"I haven't seen you for nearly two weeks and you're so quick to run away?"

"'Sir, please I Have to get inside". away from you.

"Why were you so late getting home?" he ignored your plea completely.

His thumbs circles on your throat.

"I had to work back" you admit.

"And then?". He already knew that wasn't the full story so you confess you brought some paper and took some time to write a letter.

"A letter?" he asks, "A letter to who?".

"My brother. He went to district 8 for work".

You gasp as he releases you. Giving you a least two feet of space.

"Lets see it" he demands.

With shaky hands you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket. He grabs it before you could hold it out to him.

He rips it open, and pours the two silver coins into his hand, tossing them around.

"My coins".

"My coins" you state, taking a step forward, "For my over time"

Surely he wouldn't find it appealing to take your coins from you. He was commander Snow he didn't need any money in district 12. He could just take. There would be no one to stop him.

"And where do you think your boss got the coins to give you for your over time. Where's the rest of them".

It was a set up. Not hard work and luck that gave you a few extra coins. But an odd infatuation from the officer.

You pull the rest from your pocket showing them to him.

He scoffs, "i gave her eight , she gives you four. I expected her to take two, but four. Does your district know no limits to their greed".

He mentally leaves his sweet girl out of the picture. She had received four and was willingly giving 2 away. He was sure you would also give your mother one and spend the rest wisely. Tigress always brought him new clothes with her overtime. Using old curtains to fashion her own.

You hold out your hand for him to take the coins back.

Much like his tigress, You were giving what you had to him.

"If I had known" you start.

"The point was that you didn't know". He snaps.

You still hold out your hand for him to retrieve the coins.

"Keep them. You earnt them".

You pocket the change. You had really earnt them.

He balls your brothers coins in his fist and moves out more into the light to read your letter. You were so glad you decided to leave Commander Snow out of it.

he reads fast, flipping the page and going on to the next in a matter of seconds.

He nods satisfied that it was in fact a letter to your brother and not a lost lover, before he folds the letter back up and places the coins back in the envelop.

"I'll mail it for you" he offers but you protest at the thought.

'I'd prefer to do it, Commander".

"You don't trust me? After everything we've been through, and the secrets we share".

"No-I-" you were thankful he interrupted you again, unsure of your own sentence.

"We're friends, right?"

You nod having the feeling it wasn't truly a question.

"Friends do things for each other. Let me to this for you".

"It's too big of an ask" you try again. You reach for the letter but he pulls it back.

"You could", a step forward had you going back, " do something for me to ease your conscious".

He moves towards you again until you were once again pressed up against the wall.

"What?" you breathe.

His hand cups your face, and his body braces itself against yours before his lushes lips capture yours.

The kiss is deep and hard, Barely moving off before coming back for more. His tongue licks at the bottom of your lip, sucking gently when you don't let him in.

He repositions his head to a tilt, keeping his top lip pressed against your bottom as he does. He comes back with full force, your head knocking softly against the wall from the force.

"that" another small kiss presses against your lips. A quick peck to your sealed lips.

You turn your head in case of another one, and his hand on the side of your face follows.

He digs into his pocket, pulling out two coins and pressing them into your hand.

"Take the coins. Buy yourself a new dress"

"I don't want-"

He sh's you.

"take the coins, buy the dress and stop avoiding me".

"Thursday" you remind him, the day after next.

"Yes, Thursday. Don't forget. Tomorrow if you can".

The house across the track opens its door and an middle aged women appears throwing a bucket of dirty water over the terrace. Coriolanus shrinks into the shadows until she return back inside.

"Go inside" He demands, stepping back. You rush away from him not looking back as you run into the house. But you feel his stare upon your back.

The next morning two peacekeepers knocked on the door to drive you and your mother back to your house, leaving you with a large basket of food.

'What have you done?" Your mother asks you behind closed doors.

"I am not sure" you reply honestly.

-----------

You make the worst batch of oat meal bars you've ever made and deliver them to the compound.

You were almost sure you were going to be shot as you approached the gate but they must have been expecting you, opening the gate as you neared.

You had tried to just give the basket to the Peacekeeper but he demanded that you go inside with him. You follow him through the large estate.

Peacekeepers old and new were everywhere. Some without their uniform giving them an almost human look. They eyed you as you passed.

They thinned as you reached a stunning white building made of stone. Everything else was structured out of metal so you knew that the building only housed the most important people.

It wasn't any less busy as people ran about you with stacks of paper. It was loud inside the walls. People talking to each other as they walked, some yelling down a telephone. None of them even glance at you or the peacekeeper you followed.

He leads you to a large oak door, twice the length of you, and he knocks three times.

"Come in" you hear Commander Snow call.

The peacekeeper opens the door but makes no attempt to enter the threshold. You do, and the door is immediately closed behind you.

"You couldn't make it yesterday?" he asked crossing his desk to join you in the center. You hold your basket like a protective shield.

It kept you distanced as places his hands on your shoulders.

'i had to go to work" You explain and you push the basket to his chest, attempting to rid his hands from you.

He does take the basket with a small hmm before returning to his desk. He places the basket down and digs for a oat bar. As he bites down you could tell he could taste your lack of effort.

Still he eats it without complaint as he pours coffee from a tray into two mugs. He motions for you to sit down but you were itching to go.

"I should go" you state.

"Sit" his mouth was full with the oat bar.

You do sit but don't drink the coffee offered. You notice that he had better looking biscuits on his tray.

He leans against the desk next to you and takes another big bite of the bar. His eyes wonder down to you where you sat anxious twisting your ring.

"What's that?" he points with the oat bar down.

It was only a small metal ring. Thin pieces of twisted metal in a circle. So small most people never even noticed it.

Your brother had given it to you on your nineteenth birthday as a congratulations for not being selected for the hunger games.

He obviously knew it was a ring, and you obviously knew he was really asking who gave you that.

"A gift from my brother before he left". You stop twisting it to draw attention off it but it was too late.

He finished his oat bar, dusting his hands clean from the crumbs before standing up to full height.

"Give it to me".

You shake your head no. It was the last thing you had of him.

Still Coriolanus held his hand out expecting.

"It's very dear to me, Sir".

"I'll take very good care of it".

You look up at him with pleading eyes, his softens but he doesn't relent.

"You can give it to me or I can take it", he warns.

You almost cry as you twist it off your pointer finger and place it in his palm.

He flips it around his pinky finger, and wedges both hands between his knees.

"There's sugar there if you want it".

You stand up angry.

"I don't want it. I have to get to work".

You attempt to storm off but he catches you with a firm hold on your upper arm and a hand wrapped around the side of your face.

Under his strong fingers you remember your anger could get you killed.

"Don't be upset with me" he pleads.

"I ain't upset" you remark although you eyes brim with tears, "They dock my pay half if i am even a minute late. I have to go".

"I'll walk you to the gate". You wait for him to take the lead.

You find the walk back less busy as people avoid the Commanding officer. He twists the ring in the same anxious manner that you did. He wanted to say something. Offer something in return but could think of nothing that would compensate.

It's too late by the time the journey ends. He pulls open the gate and the Peacekeepers facing forward don't turn.

You could feel his hand on your back and it shoots you forward. He remains at the gate watching you flea from him.

No one asks you why you're crying at work. So long as you are doing your tasks they don't care.

----------

On Saturdays you have a stall in the markets selling your baked goods. Your friend helps you when she has the day off for a portion of the profits.

Today it was sunny. Hot but with a nice cool breeze. People flooded through the stalls. Your cakes sold great, even better with the fresher ingredients from Coriolanus box.

You could sell the oat bars with chocolate on top for nearly double. Chocolate was rare in the districts. Most people had never even tasted it before.

Coriolanus was doing his rounds letting a younger officer with great potential shadow him for the day. He freezes when he saw you.

He had walked these markets two or three times before, Had you always been there? He must have walked past you and your stall and never even noticed. Fate has a mysterious way of working. He was now certain that it pushed you into the compound due to his ignorance while on duty.

You looked beautiful in a white top and tight blue jeans. You had your hair covered in a bandana again and wore your normal work boots.

He put his helmet back on in case you looked over and saw him. He was sure you were still upset about Thursday, and he didn't want to spoil your good mood.

The young solider followed suit. Hiding from sight without question. He might survive district 12.

You laughed with your friend who sat on a milk crate to eat her apple. At her feet lay a brown sack filled food. She quickly closed it to avoid being robbed but Coriolanus had already seen it.

He tightened his hold on his rifle. No doubt it had come from you. from Coriolanus to be more correct. He agreed to feed you, even if that meant feeding your mother too, but he did not agree to feed your friends.

Your next box would be smaller.

A school group blocks his view of you as they pass, and Coriolanus refocus to his surroundings. He sees a young boy, no more then 6, dilly dallying behind the rest of the group. He goes up to each stall looking at what they had to offer before slowly making his way to his class.

He was going to be left behind at his current rate.

"you see the young boy in the red shirt?'' Coriolanus asks his soilder.

"Yes, Sir". The boy flexes his shoulders as if the child poses a threat.

''When he reaches that cake stand, I want you to push him over".

He pats the boys shoulder urging him to go. He looked confused but followed command going over to a nearby stall to yours and pretending to look at something.

The young boy skips two stalls to come directly over to yours. His eyes go round at the sight of the chocolate oat bar.

Your smile gets wipped off as the boy is knocked to the ground. You glare instead at the Peacekeeper who made a lap back to Coriolanus.

The boy screams and crys at his scrapped knee. Coriolanus ducks behind a large pillar as you round your table to pick him up.

You were talking to him, soothing him as you rocked side to side. He reacted positively wrapping his little arms around your neck.

Coriolanus bangs his head against the piler. That was the reaction he was hopping for. To see you in a nurturing state as you consoled the boy.

"is that what you wanted sir?" his solider stood in front of him, and he pushes the boy out of the way. He had blocked the view of you carrying the child and setting him on your table.

You reach behind the crying boy and offer him a chocolate oat bar. His crying almost immediately stops.

"yes. Good. Go back to base and have the rest of the afternoon off solider".

The solider is ecstatic at the news, and with a "thank you, sir" he was pushing himself back through the crowd.

You were talking but he wasn't sure if it was to the boy or to your friend. He wished he knew what you were saying.

You had taken off your bandana and wet it with you water bottle to wipe the blood off his knee.

It was so natural for you, he thought, to care for others. Once you got comfortable enough, how would you care for him, he wondered.

Would you baby him as you babied this child if he got hurt.

he shuffles back realsing that he had itched forwarrd as you picked up the child again. You gave him another bar to eat. He was certain you were talking to your friend this time, looking squarely at her before you took off after the school.

The primary school was located at top of a large hill. Away from the noise and violence of the district.

The young boy clung to you as you walked. His chocolate hands getting over your white top as he licked the icing off.

Coriolanus followed you out of the markets. he waits until you were away from the crowd before picking up his pace to you.

The young boy catches Coriolanus' eye and begins to struggle in your grip, pointing at him. The big scary peacekeeper was coming your way.

You tighten your hold and spin to face him.

You looked shocked to see him.

"Commander Snow, sir"

A formal greeting to someone who had you pinned to the side of a wall four night ago.

He smiles at you. Trying to distract you so he can move closer to you.

"I saw" he says, "and I've come to help you return the lost boy"

"I'll be fine on my own, sir"

"I insist. You never know who lurking around. My job to keep you safe".

Coriolanus was not speaking from his station as commander.

"Do you want me to carry him?" Coriolanus offered looking at the large hill.

"No, no" the boy begs, but Coriolanus reaches for him anyway.

You turn away, curling your body around the child.

"No. It's ok. I've got him".

Coriolanus was sure you were going to struggle getting up the hill with the extra weight. If the boy was only a sack of potatoes, he would have just yanked it from your grip. But you looked so good with a child on your hip.

You could always swap half way if you wanted.

"It's ok, darlin'" you rub soothing circles on the boys back, making Coriolanus jealous, "we're gonna get you back to class".

We're. we. us. The partners in crime.

He bucks his chest out with confidence.

You begin your journey up the hill, and Coriolanus was right. Not even half way up and you had to shift the child around to your front to distribute the weight. Coriolanus goes to take him but you reject his offer once again.

"He's alright" you insist.

The child rests his head on your chest, his eyes staring at Coriolanus as if to say ha ha.

He was about to suggest you perhaps just let the boy walk, but you beat him through the silence.

"Are you following me?"

"i was showing a new candidate the patrol routes. I just happened to have seen you with the boy, and wanted to help you get him back to class as per my duty".

Close enough to the truth.

"And lydia's? how did you know i was staying there?"

His unclips his helmet and attaches it to his rifle.

"I asked around". Threated your neighbors.

You fall into silence again and this time it was Coriolanus who brecks it,

"Are you going to share everything I give you with others?"

You scoff at his words, ''saw me with the child, hey?'".

He grabs your arm to turn you causing the boy to wail again.

'You might find I am a lot more closed fisted if I can't be certain it's actually going to you".

You tear free and bounce the boy in your arms.

"shhh baby. It's all ok'' You smooth his hair back, cradling him to you.

You step away from the scary peacekeeper as you and the boy talk. You soon compliance him back to a settled temperament, and Coriolanus steps back over to you.

He doesn't mention the sharing again. He would wait for the journey back. He found himself childishly annoyed when your attention went all to the small boy.

You huff as the boy gets heavier in your arms but Coriolanus doesn't offer to take him again. He'll let you struggle.

"Why do you feed people you don't know?" the boy sucks on the remainder of the oat bar, slopper getting all over your shoulder.

You don't answer. He calks it up to the physical labor.

"The prisoners, the boy" he pushes. He leaves himself out of the list. You both feed each other because you innately knew each other. You were partners in crime and partners in crime look after one another.

"Who's to say I don't know em".

"I assure you after I was done if the prisoners knew you they would have given you up. They didn't know".

He half regretted his sentence seeing you tense up. But he was sure he left a impression of a strong, powerful man. You just needed to get over your guilt first to see it.

"We look after each other in District 12. It may not seem like it to you but these are good people here".

You looked after people here, he wasn't so sure that they had the same loyalty back.

He had seen enough flips and crumbles to know that for the right price they would feed you to him.

He wanted to tell you this. To set you straight, and show that he was the only one looking out for you. But he knew the information would upset you and he had already done that once this week. He would save it for another time.

You struggle up the hill, puffing out gratefully as the small school house came into view. A large tree marked the boundary, upholding a wire fence around the small metal huts.

You turn to Coriolanus, "I think the gun might scare them".

He take his large rifle off his shoulder and leans it against the tree. Your face still read of your displeasure.

"it might just be best if i go on with him".

He looks to you and then back to the school. He could still see you if he stayed underneath the shade of the tree.

'' I'll wait for you here then''. The gun is slung over his shoulder and he takes its place against the tree.

The boy watches Coriolanus over your shoulder as you walk with him.

You call out to the teacher frantically recounting her children.

"hey, I think you're missing one!". You place the small boy on the ground and wave goodbye to him as he runs over to his teacher, complaints of his sore knee spilling from his mouth.

Turning back to Coriolanus, your smile disappears and your pace that was slow with the child picked up to a near sprint.

He straightened up as you came near but you walked straight past him without looking.

"Do you want children?" He matches your pace

"No" you spat, "never".

Maybe if you met the right man, he wanted to say. A man who could protect them.

But he swallowed the words. This situation was new to him too. He didn't want to make promises he would later not plan to keep.

"You should reconsider" he says instead, "I think you would make a good mother".

You were naturally a very warm and loving person. While others walked around the crying boy you picked him up and nurtured him.

Coriolanus remembered a time in the war he had gone out alone in search of food. He found only hungry dogs, who chased him through the ruined city.

"Help!" he cried, looking back at the fast approaching beasts.

His foot catches a large pothole in the ground and he is thrown upon his face. Sure he was going to get eaten he calls out for Tigress but it is a large man that appears at name.

He bangs the lids of trash cans together and shouts angrily at the dogs, scaring them off.

A savior, he thought. But dropping the lids and turning to Coriolanus, the man didn't cradle the boy to his chest as you had but reached for his axe under his coat and swung it down.

He had managed to roll out of its path and get to his feet just in time.

The man was slower than the dogs, overcome with starvation. Coriolanus could disappear between the buildings. He remembered as he hid in rubble while waiting for the man to pass, how sacred he was.

It was one of the core memories that haunted him to this day.

oh how he wished that someone like you had found him instead, but he wasn't sure people could be like that anymore. He wasn't sure how through all the misery and pain you could remain so soft. He wanted to sink his teeth into your flesh and have a taste.

"What would be the point. Loving someone only to watch them get killed in the hunger games".

You feet come down hard, channeling the anger you couldn't express.

"The chances are small. There are over 300 families in district 12".

He just wanted to hear you say you would like children. The picture of you big and round while rocking a boy the same age as the lost child seemed to be getting hazer as you resisted.

"You should ask Milly May, or Harrison Flint if their chances seemed small".

This years tributes to the Hunger Games. They both died the first day. Milly May the first hour.

"Motherhood looks good on you. Natural" he tries again.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“I can’t give you what you want. No matter how much you try and sweet talk me or buy me. It won’t be given”.

It didn't matter, was the first thought that appeared in his head.

"I don't want anything from you. In fact, it's been me that's been giving. Food. Protection. All to have it spat back in my face".

Your eyes float down the hill. The beginning of Town was still a little while away.

"I understand, sir. Perhaps your efforts would be appreciated more else where".

It was a gentle let down but resulted in a harsh strike.

His hand came down upon your cheek, almost knocking you to the ground. You stumble off balance, looking up at him.

The anger on his face morphs into disappointment. Before he could reach out for you, you take off running down the hill.

You might be beaten for your rejection.

You feel his hand brush against your shoulder as he tries to grab you but you avoid it.

Pushing yourself down the hill as fast as you could go. But it wasn't fast enough.

He tackles you to the ground, crawling on top of you and securing both your wrists with one hand.

"I am sorry, I am sorry" he holds the side of the face he stuck, smoothing it over, "I shouldn't have done that".

You trash under him, screaming.

His soft hand retracts from your face to take off the rifle from his shoulder, he sets it down next to you.

His dog tags had made their way from under his shirt and now dangle over your face. You can see he had added your ring to the chain.

''Let me see" his hand returns to your jaw, forcing it to the ground on the other side so he could inspect your cheek, "only a little bruise".

He lets your head go back to its normal position, and you're left looking in his eyes.

"What I do, I do for you. Okay? not your friends, and not for anyone else. Do you understand?".

His hand reaches up going to your palm and enclosing your curled hand with his. He held himself up with his hold on your wrists, and with the other now pressed over yours, all his weight bore down on you.

The weight upon your hands hurt.

"Yes, Sir".

"If I find out you've been sharing again. I'll hang them for thievery".

You give two little nods.

"I understand, Sir. It won't happen again. Please, let me get up".

He hops off you. choosing to crouch at your feet as you sit up. He notices your shoe lace untied and begins to pull the laces tight and loop the knot back up.

You sit there stunned as he picks up his gun and rises. Offering you a hand you take it and he pulls you up.

The journey down the hill begins again. His hand reaches out to keep you in pace with him when he feels you propelling down.

You reach the bottom in a comfortable silence and stop at the foot of the hill.

"We can't be seen going back together. It will put a target on my back".

You were right. The district scum might harm you if they thought it would get back at Coriolanus.

He nods in understanding.

"You go ahead. I'll follow". He gestures forward.

You go quickly back to your stall. He tries to keep focus on you but your short stature gets momentarily lost in the crowd.

You reach your stall and go straight back behind it. Your friend is standing next to you talking in a worried hush tone when Coriolanus reaches the table.

You don't look at him as he takes one of the chocolate oat bars and continues walking back to the compound.

It tasted dry in his mouth, he didn't like that you were still baking for others, you were going to have to shut down your stall.

-----------

Coriolanus stood upon the platform at the hanging tree, having it checked for bombs twice.

The gate was swung open for the public, and every available peacekeeper was present and armed.

The convicted all formed a line. Being hung one by one for dramatic effect. The families of the dead being forced to stand at the front of the audience so they could grab their sons/brothers/ cousins shoes as Peacekeepers dropped him and restrung the rope.

Coriolanus forbid traditional burial for traitors of the country. Families would have to settle for burying the shoes of their deceased love one while their bodies are cremated and sent to Dr Gaul's office as decoration.

"Phineas Hightower. Sentenced to death for consorting with rebels and making plans of an attack. Disturbing the peace of the district".

Coriolanus read into a microphone that fed through the town.

A young man approaches. 30 at the most. He didn't look scared as the others did. No tears or pleas of innocence. Coriolanus almost respected him.

The man kicks off his shoes as he steps upon the box, and a loud cry of grief overtook the space. The mockingjays echoed it out.

Peacekeepers were on the old women, presumably his mother, fast. Focus must be kept on the fate of the traitor, and not on the cries of mothers.

The old women reaches for her sons shoes but is shoved before she could reach them. She pleas with the officers taking her to the back, but they are like statues as they manhandle her away.

Coriolanus could now see tears spring in the eyes of the young man. A befitting end for a capital traitor.

He gives the order to continue the show. They ready the man for execution.

More commotion is heard as the crowd readjusts to let someone through. He looks to see you making your way through the crowd to the front.

Had you come to see him. Watch him as he took life. Does the power fill your belly with excitement to know that the same hands that caressed you now commanded death of another.

You wanted to make yourself known to him. To let him know he had a friend in the crowd. You had dressed pretty for him back in your clothes you wore for your vaccination. A nod to your secret bond.

You left the bandana off, letting your loose hair fall around your shoulders.

But no. You don't come to his side of the stage. You rush to the soon to be dead man.

You grab the shoes, just as the box is kicked. You squeeze your eyes shut and bring them to your chest.

Coriolanus steps back to the guards behind him.

He nods in your direction, "Take that girl to my study. Make sure she doesn't leave".

Coriolanus hears the body drop, and the Guard move to catch you.

You hadn't moved since the rope stretched. You stood there eyes closed and shoes to your chest until you felt hands upon you telling you to move.

You look back at Coriolanus on the stage to see him looking down at you.

The rage in your eyes matches his.

---------

Coriolanus makes a trip to the bathroom to wash his face and make himself more presentable. He takes off his official hat, and unbuttons the top of his jacket.

You had been waiting for him for nearly an hour and a half. Having to wait for the rest of the hangings to finish, the crowd to go home, the peacekeepers to sweep the area and the final report from all leaders to Coriolanus before he dismisses them for the night.

He untucks his chain from his neck and holds your ring in his hand.

You were still his girl. Just unshaped still.

Placing the hat under his arm he makes his way to you in his study. The Peacekeeper stood guard at the door.

"You can leave" he tells the man, before entering.

He sees you shoot up from the chair as he closes the door behind him.

You had been crying. He could see the tear lines still wet on your face.

"What were you doing at the hanging?". He storms over to you. He was giving you an opportunity to satisfy him.

I was there to see you but the women upset me. He wanted you to say.

"Leave me alone. i have to get these shoes home" You try and push past him but he shoves you down into the chair. Resting his weight upon the arms of it as he leaves over you.

"I've told you once, associating with rebels will get you hanged".

"his mother won't have a body to burry. She will have his shoes".

It was the first time you hadn't called him Sir in a conversation.

He wanted to slap you until you did.

But his hands were busy taking the shoes from you.

"Now she won't have shoes either. She can burry a memory".

You push the chair back to escape him. He could tell you wanted to hit him. Your fists balled and your stance was ready to swing.

"Come here" he demanded. It gnawed at him that you were upset with him. He was only doing his job.

"Give me the shoes" you demanded.

He drops the shoes to the ground.

"come and get them" he taunts.

You seem hesitant but you do, bending down at his feet to retrieve the shoes.

He grabs your jaw once your knee height and you struggle against him.

"Tell me I am taking good care of you" He pushes down as you try and get up. "Tell me how handsome I am".

You weren't truly mad at him, only overcome with emotion, he assured himself. But he too felt heavy after hanging days.

he had wanted to rest in your arms, similar to the boy with the scraped knee. But you offered him no comfort.

This time you do strike him across the face. He shoves you away and you scramble far, taking one shoe with you.

He begins to laugh, would every comfort be denied to him. No, not you.

"Don't you ever touch me again. You stay away from me from now on".

He was going to make you regret ever saying those words to him. You were going to give him every drop of kindness you held even if he had to wring it from your body. he deserved it after everything he had been through. You were his reward for it all, and by god he was going to have it.

But not now. Now he opened the door for your freedom, watching you run out.

He would make sure you came crawling back. Telling him you wanted his great care again. Telling him how handsome he was.

He would have you all. How much pain you wanted to go through first was entirely up to you.

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dead dove do not eat #tom blyth #president snow #hunger games #Commander snow

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bunnyreaper · 8 months

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𝓷𝓸𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸 𝒶 𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓅𝓉 2 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒

wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), cheating (not from reader or john), older male younger female, future daddy kink) notes - dropping chapter one just because i need to get it out of my head ! a lot of setup really, but i swear we will get somewhere soon!! also on ao3! ♥

The rain had been threatening to come for days now—thick grey clouds lurking in the sky like a promise, but so far no drops had seemed to fall.

It's easy to get lost looking out the window, as the gunmetal sky gains an amber hue. The dinner you'd cooked had long gone cold—your boyfriend staying late at work again instead of coming home. It's easier now that it's almost a habit, to take your mind off things by staring at the sky, the record player crooning in the background.

You suppose if you took him out of the picture, life wasn't all that bad. The house the two of you shared was nice and homey, your job was mundane and untaxing and exactly what you desired, and your friends were solid.

James was the only sticking point, with his eyes that were never quite blue and his heart that was never quite yours. You suppose you knew deep down, without ever really knowing.

The creak in the floorboards and the sound of a voice pulls you from your thoughts, bringing you back into the room.

"Knock knock." A sonorous voice rings out as a head pops around the door of the living room, before John Price—your boyfriend's father, makes his way inside.

You force yourself to be present, offering an unbridled, warm smile at your guest as you playfully greet him. "Captain."

"Darling girl." He replies, your smile mirrored on his face. He sets down a box of beers on the table and starts to take off his jacket. "Tried texting you to let you know I was headed over, saw the light on, and the door was unlocked." He explains, as if he hadn't made his own way inside before.

It never bothered you, your place feeling more like home to John than his own little house on the other side of town.

You rise to your feet, heading through to the kitchen on instinct—he brought beers, which means you'll grab the bottle opener for him before he even needs to ask. "Sorry, John, I kind of zoned out for a good while there."

His footsteps are heavy as he follows you through, with an easy swagger to his steps as he brings through the beers to put in the fridge. "You should lock it even when you're in." Authority laces his tone, as he directs his paternal instincts at you.

"Yeah, I know." You laugh, nodding along, as you're so used to the way John can't help but look out for you at every opportunity. You move on autopilot, taking the box from him and setting the beers in the fridge before taking one, uncapping it, and handing it back to him.

His gaze follows your every movement, observing you as his thoughts tick over with every passing second. "Everything okay?" He asks, seeing right through you, as he always seems capable of. The concern that's clear in his voice almost makes you flinch—you get so unused to being cared for when he's not around.

You force a tight-lipped smile onto your face as you force yourself to whisper some excuse, even if it isn't too far from the truth. "Tired, it's been a long week."

John's brows furrow momentarily, and the slightest frown plays at his lips, which you know from experience means he doesn't believe you, but he won't push it for now.

He wraps his hand around the neck of the beer, taking a deep gulp before wiping his beard with the back of his hand. "Where's James? The two of you should be cuddled up on the couch, unwinding."

"Still at work." You shrug, turning away from John to try and find something to busy yourself with—currently, wiping down the counters and loading the dishwasher.

"Guess I'll keep you company then." John chuckles, his voice soft. Despite only being here for mere moments, his quiet presence is already starting to lift your mood.

You turn to him, naturally falling into a more playful spirit as you lean over the kitchen island, pausing for a moment. "Hopefully my company won't be too much of a disappointment then."

"I don't think that's possible, love." He answers without missing a beat, his eyes serious even if the smirk on his face isn't.

John always knows how to make you feel better—you couldn't have asked for a better support system when it comes to your life with James. His mother is lovely, endlessly self-sacrificing, and sweet, but now more focused on her growing children than her adult son—especially since James never seems to appreciate her as much as he should.

She raised James without John by choice—rightly or wrongly deciding not to tell anyone who the father of her teen pregnancy was. John was leaving for the army and wanted a different life for himself than the one she and a baby could offer, so she kept the burden to herself and let him go. That's how she told it, that's how it seemed to be when James showed up at John's door over two decades later and confirmed his father had no idea he existed.

The two have been making awkward attempts to make up for lost time in the years since, with you and your unfolding relationship witness to the whole thing. James had gained another father, you had gained... a friend?

"You say that now." You wink, knowing full well that you've found ways to exhaust and annoy John Price before.

He takes another sip of his beer, longer and slower this time, as if savouring the taste. "Getting as much of you as I can before I ship out on Monday." He admits.

Your heart sinks just a little. Even though it's been years of John disappearing to god knows where, it never seems to stop causing you to worry. How would James deal with it if he never came back? How would you?

Like so many other things in your life with John, you've become practiced in the way you are around each other. Despite having a million questions, you know he can answer none of them, so each time he gets dragged off to someplace unknown, you find a silly way to get something out of him.

Last time, you asked if the nation's flag had a star in it, and it did. You could almost imagine him in a different country every day that he was away, until he came back to you both.

Today, you fell back on an old favorite. "Flip-flops or snowsuit?" You ask with a giggle.

"Ha, flip-flops." He answers quickly, confirming that wherever he's headed, it's hot weather, he drinks some more as if to silence the rest of the words on the tip of his tongue.

You know by now that John prefers the cold.

"Hopefully I'll be able to catch the kid before I go." He adds, referencing James—he always tries his best to say goodbye to you both before he goes, now he has a reason to come home.

You grit your teeth at the mention of your boyfriend, knowing you won't see much of him this weekend either. "Sunday is your best bet, he'll be hungover after the stag do he's going to tomorrow." The one he only told you about two days ago.

"Those were the days, eh." John smirks, tilting his head as if to recall a memory. As an army man, you can only imagine the shit he's gotten into with his squads, the places around the world he's gotten drunk out of his mind and done god knows what. He has so many years on James, so many stories you'd love to hear.

"Too busy playing lawn bowls with your comrades now?" You can't help but tease him as you always do, the two of you falling into your back and forth with a familiar ease.

He tuts, sending you a playful glare that forces you to ignore the way it makes you feel. "Less your lip, young lady."

You have to ignore the way that makes you feel too— fuck, you're lonely, and you need James to just fuck you already.

"Absolutely, old man." You snap back, never able to resist the urge to tease him for his age. He's only in his early 40s, hardly an old man at all, but you still love to wind him up about it.

"You're the one listening to Otis Redding." He huffs, raising a brow as if to suggest you don't have any room to mock him with your own habits.

You suppose you do listen to golden oldies, knit for fun, and prefer nights in rather than nights out.

"You're the one who bought it for me." You counter, as John had bought the vinyl for you, along with many others. If anything, he was transforming your music taste into his, one album at a time.

"That I did." He chuckles, before finishing his beer with one final swig. You're setting a fresh one down in front of him before he can even ask. "You won't drink with me?"

Perhaps he feels left out drinking alone.

You wrinkle your nose, catching a whiff of hops that makes your stomach churn. "Even you can't convince me to drink that swill, I'll grab something, though." You concede that at least, turning to reach the shelf up high to where you keep your liquor.

John is offering his bottle up as soon as the clear liquid is poured into your glass. "Cheers, love."

Your glasses clink as your eyes connect, a soft, sincere moment passing between the two of you that makes your heart beat a little faster. You were awfully fond of the older man. "To your safe return."

"I'll drink to that." He toasts, before downing half of the beer in one go. "You still owe me the dinner that you promised me last time, I'm coming back to collect."

"I actually have some I can reheat, it was for James, but since he's staying late..." You offer, your sentence trailing as you battle to keep your thoughts on the man in the room with you, rather than the one who isn't.

"Can't let your lovely cooking go to waste now, can we?" He grins, deeply pleased to be getting one of your meals.

You turn to the oven, pulling out the two plates that are still warm, food piled high on top of them. "Glad it's appreciated."

John pauses, his eyes trying to meet yours, yet you continue to avert your gaze, focusing on grabbing cutlery for you both. You said too much.

"You don't feel appreciated?" He asks, voice softer—concerned all over again.

As you sit down beside him, setting the two plates down, you struggle to meet his eye as your feelings swirl and conflict inside you. If anyone offered the perfect understanding ear, it would be John, and under any other circumstance, you'd happily tell him all about what ails you. "I don't... think it's appropriate to talk to you about my relationship troubles."

His posture stiffens, his voice hardens, and his food is temporarily forgotten as his protective instincts kick in. "But there are troubles?"

Now, you find the strength within you as you force a laugh from your throat and a spark into your eyes. "Oh no, I meant hypothetically." You joke, hoping he takes the bait.

Instead, a hand reaches out to settle on yours, warm and firm and reassuring—ebbing away at your propriety. "Love, you're a terrible liar." He whispers, yet unable to keep the smallest of smiles from tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Or you're just used to reading people for a living." You counter—after all, you tell James you're fine all the time, and he's never suspected any different.

"That too." John laughs, as he pats your hand and begins to rub circles over the back of your smaller hand with his calloused thumb. "You have to talk to someone."

There's that commanding, authoritative, caring voice again—the one that makes you relent every time he uses it on you.

"I will, just... not my boyfriend's dad." You whisper meekly, guilt stabbing through you as the words leave you.

He nods understandingly, patting one more before he pulls his hand away, and goes to twirl pasta around his fork. "Why? I might be his father but a blind man could see the way he takes you for granted."

Hearing the words out loud, verbalised by someone else—verbalised by John of all people, feels like a stab wound to the chest. You'd felt it for so long, assured yourself that you were just going crazy, ignoring the way James cares for you, assuring yourself that nothing was amiss. But John sees it too, sees it in his own son.

"Well, I don't think men who wouldn't take me for granted actually exist." You laugh bitterly, stabbing at your own plate of food before swallowing a bite—you're sure it would've tasted nicer when it was actually fresh.

John's jaw clenches, a hint of frustration passing through him as he watches you, hurting and hiding it all away. "Then you're dating the wrong men, darling. We exist."

You take a deep breath as you try to let go of the ugly feelings within you. Men like John do exist, good men, caring men.

"And yet you deprive women of your company, how cruel." Your eyes roll back sarcastically as the grin breaks out onto your face.

Any woman would be lucky to have John, but for as long as you've known him, he's kept himself to himself. Now he preaches his own virtues like you have something to look forward to, and yet men like him always seem to be out of reach.

"I'm a busy man." He shrugs, taking a bite of his food before rushing down another as gentlemanly as he can.

"And yet here you are."

He nudges you with his knee, flashing you a smile. "Spending time with my favourite girl."

It takes everything within you to remain calm and remind yourself that he doesn't see you like that. You're just his son's girlfriend, that he happens to get along with, very well.

You giggle anyway, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of his statement. "Ah, waiting for the main event."

John sets his fork down with a clatter, his attention now fully on you. "Love?"

"Yeah?" You swallow, wondering just how he's going to chastise you for your self-deprecation. If you had a pound for every time he's told you to be kinder to yourself, or gently corrected you when you make jokes at your own expense, you could probably afford to pay for the therapy you clearly desperately need.

"I didn't just come to see James." He admits, the words a quiet confession.

He's right—the two of you have become fast friends ever since your introduction, and find nothing uncomfortable in each other's company as you wait for James to come around.

You nudge his knee back, making your chair spin more than his. "You came for Otis and some lovely pasta."

"And good company, couldn't ask for a better way to spend my evening."

Your stomach flips at his words. You know he isn't flirting, but you'd be lying if you said his constant compliments didn't make you feel better than you had in ages.

Maybe you should tell him about things with you and James, maybe he would have some good insight. After all, he must have a wealth of relationship experience under his belt.

"John..." You start hesitantly.

"Bunny?" He asks, the intensity of his blue eyes firmly fixed on you—the nickname he reserved when he was feeling especially fond.

The front door all but crashes open, and a frustrated growl rings out from the hallway as keys are thrown down and shoes are kicked at the shoe rack. "Fuck, I need a drink."

James appears in the kitchen just a few seconds later, practically ripping his hair out the roots as he snarls to himself. His expression softens when he lays eyes on you and his father.

"Hi." You greet him, feeling rather apathetic at his late appearance.

"Hey babe. John." He nods, giving his father a manly slap to the back before he gets to work on tugging his tie.

"Alright son." John greets, lips quirking into a smile at his son's appearance.

James steps forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, which you receive with a forced smile and no affection of your own. Both of you are blind to the frown that flashes onto John's face.

As James pulls away, he rips his tie from his neck, bundling it up before throwing it at the hamper and turning away. "I'm heading straight for a shower, I'll be back down soon." He calls out, disappearing up the stairs two at a time.

"Yeah, see you soon." John offers, a hint of frustration to his voice—he's never been all that fond of his son's manners, as he's mentioned on numerous occasions.

The mood feels a little stifled now, as both you and John eat your meal with an uneasy silence hanging over you. You hear doors slam upstairs as James makes his way around the house, likely leaving a mess behind that you'll have to clean.

You knew why you felt worse at this moment, your opportunity to talk to someone snatched from you by his untimely appearance. He's always late home, couldn't he have been a little later?

What puzzled you was John's shift in demeanour—it didn't sit right with you. Perhaps he felt ignored by his only son, the one he'd been waiting for this entire time. It's funny, you supposed, the way you both find solace in each other over the similar treatment you get from the younger man.

"Everything okay? You've gone quiet." You ask John, it being your turn now to play the concerned friend.

You know him well enough too to know his smile right now is forced—you don't need to be a trained SAS operator to notice the way his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Fine, love, just thinking."

John was a man who could probably stand to think a little less, especially when he's at home. It's one responsibility you found yourself picking up all this time, as you tried to make his days away from war lighter.

You nudge him again, practically trying to force the playfulness into him with the push of your knee. "Well, we can't have that, can we? I hear it's dangerous."

He barks a laugh, pulled out of his glum mood, and back into the room with you. "You never fail to make me laugh, darling."

"Might be my proudest accomplishment." You giggle, feeling oh so pleased with yourself. "What would your soldiers think if they knew the fearsome Captain Price had such an atrociously bad sense of humour?"

He rolls his eyes, but that bright smile that splits his handsome face doesn't waver. "Eh, not sure if it's atrocious, most of the lads' jokes make me groan."

You roll your eyes at that comment. "Most things make you groan."

"You don't."

"Not for lack of trying."

There's a solid second of silence before you realise the heavy yet accidental innuendo in your comment. You feel your face burst into flames, mortification taking over you as you meet John's shocked expression. "I mean—"

"I know what you meant, love." His laugh warms you as he seems to take the whole thing in stride. "That blush is quite something, though."

You throw yourself into your curled-up arms, hiding away as you're unable to look John in the eye any longer. He's your boyfriend's dad, almost twice your age, and you're making jokes about him groaning. It's a tough battle to force the thoughts out of your head lest you blush any harder. "I'm gonna go stick my head in the oven."

"And ruin your pretty face?"

"You're making it worse." You whine, pushing yourself further into the safe cocoon of your arms.

"I'll stop." John laughs, hand coming to settle on your back as he soothes you. "But it's nice to have cheered you up."

"I suppose..." You sigh, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Your blush abates as the two of you continue to eat until your plates are clean.

"All done?" You ask, gesturing to where John is setting down his cutlery atop the plate.

"It was perfect. Thanks, love." He says sincerely, a hand resting on his stomach as if to add to the sincerity of the gesture.

"Anytime." You smile, taking the plates and heading over to the dishwasher. "If I'd have known you were coming, I'd have gotten dessert."

John knows you wish you would've had more notice—even if he's had to tell you many times that you don't need to clean the house and cook a three-course meal every time he happens to pop over. "Only got the marching orders this afternoon." He shrugs as if to absolve himself of any responsibility.

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?" You ask, voice quieter as you return to his side.

"A month, probably not too much longer."

A month was fairly typical. "Well, make sure you come home to us."

Come home to me, you think selfishly.

"Always, darlin'." His eyes burn with a promise, and a sense of joy at hearing those words. "Someone's gotta keep that old soul of yours company." He winks.

"So, I'll get initiated into the bowls team soon?" You wink back.

John finishes off his beer before laughing once more, the sound filling you with warmth. "Maybe you can be my pool partner."

"I can't play pool for shit, John." You whine, remembering the last time you tried to play pool and ended up injuring yourself, as well as sending balls flying all over the pub.

"Guess you're due a lesson then."

Once more, you're interrupted at the most inopportune time.

"Keeping the old man company for me?" James asks, meeting your gaze over his father's shoulder as he rubs a towel at his dripping hair.

"Somebody has to." John teases, more poking fun at himself than at anyone else, and the two of you share a laugh.

You begin to mourn the light moments you've had, as the atmosphere shifts once more at James' arrival, and you feel yourself growing tense and unsettled. You watch in silence as James looks around for the bottle opener, and you make no effort to help or tend to him.

It's John who breaks the awkward silence. "I won't stay too much longer, leave you two to enjoy your night."

You stand, the stool scraping back loudly against the floor as you do, making your hair stand on end. "Uh, actually, I think I'm gonna sleep. You should enjoy some father-son time." The smile on your face is polite and perfunctory.

"Goodnight love." John smiles, soft and genuine, as he watches you walk away.

James speaks up too, but the words barely register. "Night babe."

As you reach the threshold of the kitchen, you turn back once more—John's eyes are still on you.

"Stay safe, John."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, holding your gaze until you disappear up the stairs.

You try not to think of the look in his eyes when you fall asleep that night.

————

Time seems to go differently when John is deployed. Despite not being anything more than your boyfriend's father, you're still always filled with worry waiting to hear from him. Outside his military family, you and James were the ones waiting for him to come home with bated breath, and with John's disastrous love life, you found yourself the only woman waiting to welcome him back to civilian life.

As you stare at your inbox, waiting for anything to come through, you find your thoughts drifting easily to other things in life—to John.

You're his friend, if you can even call yourself that—but you miss him when he's gone. Back on English soil, he's visiting you and James pretty frequently, coming over for dinner or helping around the house—since James is useless with a drill.

Things are different when he's gone, though sometimes you feel like you're the only one who thinks that.

Your boyfriend doesn't worry like you do, despite being closer to the man, though James has never been the most emotional of guys to begin with.

Despite work keeping you busy, and friends inviting you out for drinks, you often find yourself waiting for a text, or anything from John—just to know he is safe.

Your phone chimes one Monday afternoon, interrupting your monotonous work day with something different. The timing makes your heart soar, as it must be from John letting you know he's back in Hereford—the notification you see instead is the end of everything as you know it.

A message request from an anonymous account: "I'm sorry for you to find out like this, but I couldn't keep the secret any longer."

Attached to the message is a series of pictures, and a video from a bar, of James entangled with another woman in a way that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. You recognised the tie, the one he'd worn for the first time only a month ago—the one he'd thrown in the laundry before rushing off to shower.

The nausea overwhelms you in an instant, sending you rushing for the bin beside your desk as the content of your stomach leaves you in harsh retches.

Everything that happens after is a blur, as your co-workers rush to your aid—your closest work friend seeing the messages on your phone as she pulls you to the bathroom, cleans you up, and makes sure you get home safe and sound.

She doesn't want to leave you alone, but you know that company right now will only make the whole thing worse. You wander around the house in a haze, tending to your chores like nothing has changed, and your world hasn't been turned upside down.

That deep, unsettled feeling you've been getting as of late? It all makes sense now—why you never truly felt at ease around the man who was supposed to love you. And yet, a part of you felt relieved. Relieved that you weren't crazy, relieved that you weren't to blame for the way things had changed lately, relieved that you finally had the chance to walk away.

You haven't stopped thinking about the text all day—wondering how the fuck you're going to confront James and not rip his head clean off of his body, how you're going to end your years-long relationship and upend because your boyfriend couldn't keep his dick to himself.

The clock on the wall ticks away, counting down the moments until he comes home from work, late as always. At least now you know why.

Your phone chimed again a while ago, probably whatever excuse he had cooked up—you hadn't even bothered picking the damn thing up to check the notification.

A knock at the door pulls you out of it all, as you move on autopilot to go answer.

Did he forget his keys? Or has he gotten himself drunk to the point he can't put them in the door anymore?

On the other side of the door isn't James, isn't your cheating, good-for-nothing boyfriend but John.

His beard untrimmed and eyes dull—the scent of cigars rolling off of him in waves. "Hello, darling girl." He says his usual, as a smile tugs at his cheeks.

"Hi." You offer in return, your voice almost completely motionless. Time seems to slow as you stare at the man before you—usually, you'd greet him with a quick hug and a bright grin, so pleased to see him safe and on your doorstep. Yet, the day's events have stolen that joy from you.

John picks up on your mood almost immediately, head tilting in concern as his eyes roam over you. "Bad time?"

"No." You shake your head as you step aside. "Come in."

John scrapes his boots against the doormat before he takes them off, along with his jacket.

"Tea." You whisper, snapping into action as you turn and head to the kitchen. You almost always make tea when he comes over—you don't even have to ask anymore.

"Thanks, love." His voice rings out after you.

Focusing on making the tea helps calm you somewhat, and you pull out two mugs to make a cup for yourself too.

How were you going to tell John? The news would ruin him. How are you going to tell John that you'll be leaving his son's life, and therefore his?

Your heart falls deeper into a pit of misery at that thought alone—the loss overwhelming you.

"James home?"

"Still at work." You whisper, not trusting yourself to speak properly without the bitterness unfurling and the truth spilling out.

John scoffs from behind you, but you know he isn't really all that bothered. "Oh, right. No heroes welcome from my lovely son then." His sarcastic words are graveled.

"Saves you from all his silly questions, I suppose." You shrug, still not turning to look John in the eye. "Though you put up with mine, so."

"Yours don't ask me to break the law." He huffs, short and sharp, before he perks up again. "Didn't actually get to bust out the flip-flops this time, though." He offers, a hint at your last conversation. The weather was milder than he expected then, you suppose he was rather pleased about that.

You let the silence settle over the two of you as you continue to make your drinks, focusing on the way the unfurls from the bag and changes the hue of the boiling water. Next is the milk, semi-skimmed because James doesn't like full fat—at least that's something that'll change for the better once you leave.

The thought makes you freeze.

"Love, what's the matter?" John's smokey voice is soft and sweet and coming closer—laced with concern.

Your chest tightens, impending doom feeling like it's right over your shoulder—everything is going to fall apart in 3. 2. 1.

The milk bottle falls free from your hands, crashing to the floor with a wet splash—the cold milk is easily ignored as a hand comes to rest at your back, pulling you away from the edge of the abyss of your pain.

"Talk to me, what's going on?" His voice is more insistent this time, but still just as concerned. He ignores the pool at both of your feet in favour of consoling you. His features are knitted together in a terrifying amount of worry that makes you crack completely.

"John." You whisper shakily, finally meeting his eyes.

His baby blues are filled to the brim with care for you, with concern and confusion and a million unanswered questions. "Yes, darling?"

"He's cheating on me."

There's a beat before John explodes. It's not the bombastic, showy anger where things get screamed—he's quiet and seething and eerie, his words spat through gritted teeth. "He's fucking what?"

Your whole body begins to shake as the truth tumbles free, solidifying itself as reality now it's spoken aloud. "He's cheating on me with one of his coworkers, Lucy."

Not that it mattered whether it was Lucy or Georgia or some girl from the club or whatever.

John stiffens—his shoulders squaring up, his jaw clenching and his body tightening like he's going to war. You've never seen John Price the soldier, but you imagine it's something like this "When's he due home?"

"I don't know." You answer honestly. You don't know, and you don't particularly care. At least you'll never have to wait for him to come home ever again.

"I'm gonna ring him—" John snarls, shoving his hand into the worn pocket of his jeans as he grabs his phone.

"Don't." Your hand shoots out to still his wrist, though you know the effort would be futile if he truly chose to ignore him. "Please."

"If only I'd have fucking raised him." John seethes before launching into action, he moves around you to grab the kitchen towel, ripping off piece after piece as it soaks up the spill. He throws the half-empty bottle into the sink, as milky white sprays up the backsplash.

"It's okay." You whisper, genuinely feeling that in a sense, it is. You've been betrayed, but at least now you'll be free.

"It's not okay." John moves to stand before you again, his arms braced on your shoulders as he looks down upon you, craning a little to get closer to your height. "Love, you're perfect, you're too lovely for him, how could he hurt you?"

"How could anyone hurt something so precious?"

"Not precious enough, clearly." You scoff, wondering where it all went wrong. Right now you felt the furthest thing from precious, from loveable and perfect and everything else John said. Fuck, you feel like you're turning him against James. "Sorry, I feel like I shouldn't be talking to you about this—"

"I'm on your side, yeah?" He interrupts you with good reason before your thoughts can spiral any further. His grip tightens a fraction as his thumbs move, slowly and reassuringly, across the bare skin of your shoulders. "He's my son, but he's a fucking bastard for this. You deserve better, love."

The sweetness in his voice makes you snap. Why wouldn't you have a man like John? So caring and kind and knowledgeable—older and experienced and so out of your reach.

"I don't—" The tears start to flow freely, as you desperately search John's eyes for answers.

"Shh, come here, I've got you." He pulls you in close, his arms wrapping around you in a warm, secure embrace. His smell surrounds you, the soothingly familiar smoke coating your skin. Lips press against your forehead delicately, as he holds you like he's holding every piece of you together, bit by bit. His body is like his presence—solid, unwavering, ever-present.

"I've got you, everything's going to be okay." He whispers, over and over and over again, chanting it like a prayer.

In his embrace, firm and reassuring, you might actually believe him.

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#captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #lmaooo here we go #such a boring first chapter tbh but you know we need the setup

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macabr3-barbi3 · 2 months

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Nothing I Can't Handle- Chapter 2 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54337009/chapters/139143145

Chapter 1!

Tags: Reader-Insert, Alastor in Rut, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, blood kink? maybe if you squint, Biting

Round 2! Who doesn't love a nice chase through the bayou?

Comments and feedback fuel my lifeforce- let me know what you think! 💕

Chapter 1 🦌 Chapter 3

When Alastor’s rut comes around the second time, you’re ready.

The first one had been… an experience. Not a bad one by any means- while sore you were thoroughly sated, Alastor having been very particular about making sure that you came just as many times as he did, if not more. By the end of the three day period you had been holed up in his room you were covered in a thin layer of sweat and various bodily fluids, the last day having been the most exhaustive. Your throat was sore from the constant noises coming from you; a headache from the dehydration of not getting enough water between rounds, though Alastor had done his best to remember to conjure a glass here and there; a variety of cuts and bruises littering your skin, a collage of delicious depravity. When Alastor had finally allowed you to leave your room, the rut having passed, you pressed on the bruises occasionally to give yourself a reminder of the time you had shared.

He acted like nothing had changed- he wasn’t actively avoiding you like he had been in the days leading up to the rut, but he just… treated you like everyone else. Which was fine. Good, even! There was no reason for anyone to suspect anything between the two of you when he did the same things to do that he did to Charlie or Vaggie. Popping up when you least expected him to, leaning into your personal space, resting an elbow on your shoulder or head when he had the angle to do so.

You weren’t foolish enough to expect that he would want to date you or anything like that- it was just a transaction to him, a way to get what he needed by giving you something that you wanted, even if you hadn’t figured out what that was yet. A physical need that had to be fulfilled or he would go back to that snarling tower of a demon that stalked the hotel and made everyone cower.

Still, when he approached you one day months after the first one to inform you that the rut would be coming again soon, you prepared yourself.

You chug water whenever you can, and make sure to eat regular meals in the days leading up to it, squirreling away whatever little snacks you could stash in your room without luring out the bugs that Nifty liked to chase- Alastor’s powers seemed to draw the line at conjuring food, so when he could tear himself from your side he would journey to the kitchen and bring you small samplings of leftovers.

You spend your evenings trying to convince Alastor to have more meat when he joins the group at dinner, to make sure he could keep his strength up as well. He raises an eyebrow at you but does as requested.

When the night comes around, Alastor finds you in the lobby and asks you in a hushed tone to meet him at his room when you retire for the evening, and your heart rate spikes in your chest when you agree. When he vanishes you sprint to your room, collecting the assortment of nuts and snack cakes and pretzels and candy that you had amassed into a bag before you make your way to his room. At this you were nervous- you’d never been inside before, the last time having been sequestered into your own bedroom. You hoped he wouldn’t mind your bringing something to eat along.

When the door swung open Alastor raised an eyebrow at the bag on your shoulder. “I hope that’s not a change of clothes,” he says as he guides you into the room with a sweep of his arm. “Because you won’t be needing them.” His tone is not salacious or flirty- a statement of fact rather than a come-on.

You place it on the table by the door as you start pulling items from it. “It’s not. I noticed, last time, that you don’t seem to be able to conjure food- I thought this might make things a little easier on both of us. If I have something to snack on I won’t drop dead of hunger and you don’t have to leave so often.”

His eye twitches as he watches you, and you second guess yourself. “I can- I can get rid of them if you want, take them back to my room-“

“Not necessary,” he says, and waves a hand; the assortment of snacks reappears on the stand next to the bed across the room. “I apologize for the pause. The part of my brain currently being overtaken by the rut did not appreciate the idea that there was something I could not successfully obtain for my… partner.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize with a blush that that sounds stupid. “Well, either way, we should be set for this time! I’ve been making sure to drink lots of water so I won’t get dehydrated, there’s some bottles in the bag as well…” You run through the various things that you had been doing to prepare for this week, and over the course of your tirade Alastor’s smile seems more and more strained. You finally stop your mouth from moving and just watch him as he watches you. “I… guess I maybe did too much, huh?”

“Not at all, dear,” he says like he’s on autopilot, and he lifts your hand to his lips to place a kiss to the back of it. “I am just… shocked, I suppose, that you’ve done so much to prepare and make this easier for the both of us when you’ve still not decided what you want for your end of the bargain.”

“Right,” you say, face flaming as you make your way past him and to the bed. You perch yourself on the edge of it. “I’ve been thinking about it, I promise!”

You totally haven’t been thinking about it. You were perfectly content to just continue helping Alastor with his ruts- to be so close to him regularly was enough for the time being. The orgasms were a huuuge plus.

He watches you with his eyes narrowed before he sighs. “If you say so, dear- do let me know when you’ve decided. In the meantime, I do have some final tasks to complete before I’m prepared to be incapacitated with you. I hadn’t expected you to meet me so soon.” He eyes you sitting on the edge of his bed and hums. “Though I must say I’m rather pleased to have you in my own territory this time, as it were. You’re free to use my space as you please while you wait for my return.” With a faint buzz of static he’s gone, and you’re left in the comfortable warmth of Alastor’s room.

You lean back into the pillows, relishing in the soft sheets beneath your skin. They were red- of course- and you let yourself spread your hands across them. They smelled of Alastor, like the woods and spices and rain on the streets when you were alive.

Speaking of Alastor’s scent, he said he was glad to have you in his area this time, and you think about when he made the initial proposition and said that he could smell other things on you- maybe it was the deer part of him wanting to make sure that you smelled like him this time, made him feel like you were properly… ‘mated.’ The thought makes you blush, but you don’t think you’re wrong.

You catch sight of the bathroom door across the room. He had said you had free reign while he was out- while you waited you could take a shower, rid yourself of the scents of the hotel, and perhaps that would put Alastor more at ease when he came back. You make your way into the generously sized room, turn the water as hot as you can get it, and wash the day off yourself.

When you come back into the main room Alastor is waiting there, and his eyes widen at the sight of you in what you assumed to be his bathrobe that you had found on the back of the door. “You’ve certainly made yourself at home, darling,” he comments, but his eyes are roving over your form from head to toe, pausing at the black A emblazoned now over your heart.

“I, uh. I thought maybe you would prefer it if I didn’t stink of the hotel when you got back,” you say. “You mentioned that last time, and with the comment about being in your territory this time I just figured, you know. A clean slate was best.” You shrug your shoulders, the silk of the robe sliding off on one side from how oversized it was on you. “Fuck-”

“Allow me.” Alastor is in front of you then, and despite the split-second thought that he would simply slide the robe off your entirely- he had said that you wouldn’t be needing clothing- he simply rights it on your frame, taking a moment to admire the A. He leans down and buries his nose in the space between your chin and shoulder, inhaling deeply. “The robe, while perhaps unintended, is a nice touch. Not only do you not smell of the hotel or its inhabitants, but you smell like me. Like mine.” He runs a hand down your arm and allows a clawed finger to drag the silk up your wrist.

“Yours,” you agree, and at his sharp intake of breath against your neck you add, “for the week! Whatever you need me to be, I will. Um. Be that. For the week.”

“Perfect,” he says, and your brain oozes with the warmth of the praise. “I actually do have a request of you this time beyond just allowing me to… have you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

You’re once again struck by your possible stupidity when it comes to this demon- blindly agreeing to the things he proposes before you really understand what comes with it. He could ask to tie you down, or if he could use his magic in some way to be involved in the proceedings. He could ask to bite you, to really chomp down like he had last time but tear flesh away instead of simply releasing you- though you do think you might draw the line there.

He eyes you through lowered lids for a moment before he steps to the side of you and gestures to the swamp that he’s got materialized in his room- it had been there since he moved in, if you went by what Vaggie said. “If you are not opposed, I would like you to run,” he says simply, reaching out to tighten the sash of the robe around your waist.

You glance into the darkness of the night that awaits at the border between there and here- where Hotel meets bayou, where reality meets… whatever that was. It had to be some kind of deer thing. “Got it. Is there a point to that? I’ll do it,” you assure him, hands raised to show that you weren’t trying to argue the point. “I’m just curious.”

He hums a bit. “Yes, I’d think so. As satisfying as it is that you so easily submit to me, the restless buck in me wishes for more of a courting, so to speak. In nature a doe will dance around the buck, out of reach for several days before allowing herself to be mated.” He flashes you a tense smile. “I think a refreshing chase through the bayou will satisfy that craving quite nicely.”

“I see.” You look back into the swamp- it’s dark, but the stars are providing a decent amount of light and there seems to be a clear path through the trees to some extent, plenty of space for you to make some distance if he gave you a head start. Were you supposed to circle back here, to the bedroom? You could tell he was a little nervous about the request, but it didn’t seem all that bad. “So that’s it- I run and you chase me?”

“Haha! What little faith you have in me, dear- you run, and I will catch you.”

His tone makes you shiver. “R-right.” You swallow hard and hold your hands into tight fists at your side. “And- what happens when you catch me?”

Alastor pats you on the head like you’ve seen him to do Charlie. “You’re a smart gal,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m sure you can figure it out during your head start- we may as well start now since you’re agreeable to the idea.” He glances at his watch before starting to remove his overcoat and roll his sleeves up to the elbow. “It’s not a terribly large area, so I believe ten seconds should be sufficient!”

“W- now? Ten seconds?”

His smile is almost bored despite the burning intent in his eyes. “Well, it’s only nine now.”

You know better than to stall any longer, and you bolt- perhaps some small blessing of magic he’s concocted, but there are no sharp sticks or rocks under your bare feet as you take off into the night, straight down the path you had noticed in the trees earlier. You stay mindful of any roots that may trip you as you run, your legs aching, heart beating faster than it ever has before, living or dead.

And yet- the thrill is exhilarating. You don’t think Alastor would actually harm you in any real way, bruises and scrapes from the last rut aside that you’re sure you’ll get a repeat of. But you could see why part of him wanted this. Craved it. A reward is better when you’ve earned it, when you’ve really worked for it.

And by the sounds of crashing trees and snapping branches that followed in your wake a few seconds later, he was certainly working for it.

You reach a clearing in the trees and turn to make a sharp right, sure that he was thinking you would continue straight on. As you do though you catch sight of the sky between the treetops- thousands of blinking stars with wisps of clouds shot throughout the deep, endless blue. It’s almost enough to make you stop and stare, take a moment to really appreciate what Alastor was capable of with this creation alone. It was breathtaking.

A whisper of movement reminds you that you aren’t alone in this astonishing dimension, and you sidestep just in time to avoid the grasp of Alastor’s claws as he reaches for you.

He looks feral - antlers extended and catching on the low hanging branches of the trees nearby, his eyes dark and crazed as he watches you take a couple steps back. “Come now, darling,” he says, and there’s red dripping from either side of his mouth. “There’s no use in that. I’ve found you.”

“Thought you said you wanted to catch me,” you snark before you can implement your brain-to-mouth filter. The adrenaline is coursing in your veins, keeping you light on your feet. “Not play hide and seek.”

Alastor laughs at you, the sound echoing through the wilderness. “How cheeky!” He stalks towards you, a pace forward for every one of yours backwards. “Rest assured, I will catch you, dear.”

You offer him your own smile, dancing backwards with every lurch. You know he could catch you easily, knew that he was just taunting you, toying with you. But God, if it wasn’t fun, even as dangerous as it was to mess with someone as powerful as Alastor. “That’s big talk for someone who still doesn’t have his hands on me yet.” You turn, to book it back into the trees in the opposite direction, knowing that you won’t get far.

You stumble. The cliche of it isn’t lost on you as you go down to your knees, and notice one of Alastor’s shadow tentacles slipping away from roughly ankle level.

You still try to escape, to draw it out just that little bit longer, twisting to one side as Alastor rushes you. All that does is get you facing upwards, the robe falling off your shoulders to drape across your collarbones before he has you pinned with a hand to each wrist.

“Well well, what do we have here?” He asks with his eyes lowered, pupils dilated as he takes you in. “It would seem that I’ve caught you.”

“You cheated,” you say breathlessly, as he slots himself between your legs, bringing your thighs up to rest on either side of his hips. “I could have kept going if you played fair.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he agrees, and then he’s trailing his lips down your neck, kissing at your shoulders and throat before he pulls the robe off of you to pool beneath your body. “You gave quite the effort- I was surprised to see you get so far with your head start. I have no doubt you could have kept the chase going a while longer.” He sighs, like the idea of not having that now was disappointing. “Another time, perhaps.” With that he releases your hands and digs his claws into your hips and grinds against you, the drag of his clothed erection against your bare sex sending sparks up your spine.

His eyes are closed, head thrown back as he groans in pleasure. His antlers, like last time, are extended to the sides, unrestrained with the openness of the space. He doesn’t seem to be as lost in it this time, perhaps because you were with him at the beginning of the rut and keeping the worst of it at bay before he had the chance to get animalistic and frustrated.

It's almost better, in a way. The last time had been fun- so much fun, you had zero complaints that you hadn’t already addressed with the supply of snacks and water sitting by the bed currently- but Alastor seems calmer in his need this time. Still at the mercy of his biology but less frantic with it, even with the chase that had led to the two of you here on the forest floor, sky full of stars above you. You would agree to nearly anything he asked of you to make things easier on him if needed.

He leans down over you, still grinding his hips while running his teeth along whatever he can reach of your body. He’s perfectly positioned for you to grab hold of his antlers again so you do so, relishing in the full body shiver that courses through him at the sensation. Using one hand to keep your lower halves pinned together, the other slides deliciously along your back to twist into your hair, pulling your mouth to his with a groan that vibrates through your being.

It would almost be unfair how aroused you were if you didn’t know that Alastor was in the same state, the drag of his length against you combined with the adrenaline of the chase leaving you slick and needy. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’s mumbling against your lips, tongue darting out with every repetition to brush along yours.

You let one of your hands slide down between your bodies like it had last time, let your trembling fingers circle the base of him and moan into his mouth at the feeling of him, hard and hot under your touch. He jerks back from you, his eyes frantic and panting through his slack jaw. “Darling, please, I can’t- can’t think if you-”

“Please,” you whine, and he flexes in your hand. “Please, Alastor, fuck-” You release your grip and roll your hips into his. “Don’t think- whatever you need, take it.”

He clenches his eyes shut, bringing his knees forward so he can rest your lower body on his thighs so he can free up the hand holding you to him. He pulls his hips back far enough to slide a finger through your wetness and into the tight clench of your body, the evidence of your arousal and how ready you are for him tearing a harsh moan from his throat. “You astonish me,” he says, and the praise winds itself around the synapses firing off in your brain as he brings his fingers to his mouth, long tongue twisting around the digits to taste you. “Delicious- you’re so lovely, I want everything .” The visual of it- this powerful demon, on his knees in the dirt with you, licking your arousal off his fingers like some delectable treat as he fights to maintain his composure, his manners- sends a pulse of want through your entire being, and not having him inside of you is no longer an option.

When he lines himself up to thrust into you you beat him to the punch, pushing your hips forward to meet him halfway, and then all the way as the move allows him to slide in to the hilt. A choked off whimper escapes you, body shivering with the force of his rutting into you. He’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, the head of his cock slamming it with every thrust, and you want to cry from the pleasure of it.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his lips still close enough to your ear that you can hear the sweet nothings that tumble from his tongue. “My mate, so sweet, so- fuck -” He falters for a moment, his hips stuttering hard into you before he comes back to himself and resumes his steady rhythm, the push and pull of his body into yours driving you to insanity. When his eyes open they are black, the little red dials of his pupils ticking steadily in time with his thrusts. His antlers are growing still, their size staggering, the dark jagged lines of them breaking up your view of the stars when you can manage to tear your eyes away from Alastor’s face. “ Mine . Say it. Tell me.” His smile is desperate, expression dazed and full of need. “You take me so well; fucking say it, I need to hear you-”

“Yours,” you cry out, your thighs tensing with the force of your rising orgasm. “Fuck, Alastor, please, yours-”

Arms wrapped possessively around you he leans back, pulling you with him to an upright position. He's still sat on his knees in the dirt, the sounds coming from where you’re joined loud and lewd in the relative silence of the bayou. He keeps you clutched to his frame, claws digging delicious lines into the canvas of your back. “Fuck,” he’s gasping into the space between you, railing harder into your body as he loses his pace, hands coming down to hold your hips stationary and fuck into you from below. “Fuck, darling, mine - ” A wrecked groan of your name is the only warning you have before he stills as far inside your warmth as he can get himself, the move dragging him against that spot inside that sends you right over the edge with him.

He doesn’t bite down as hard this time but he still sinks his teeth into your shoulder, the sharp pain of it giving an edge to your release as you shake in Alastor’s arms, a sound like a wounded animal coming from you and seeming almost at home in the darkness of the trees.

Like last time, when he removes his teeth from your skin he laps at the blood that spills from the wound. You release your grip on his antlers at last and your arms drape over his shoulders, letting your head drop forward to rest on them. He sighs contentedly into your skin, the air making your new bitemark sting. The buzzing and rustling of creatures in the trees has resumed now that you and Alastor have finished, and stands slowly to place you on your feet, pulling out of the heat of your body in the same move. Your legs are shaky but stay underneath you at least, and he watches you with narrowed eyes after tucking himself back into his slacks.

Something about his gaze on you makes you nervous, now that his mind is temporarily clear of the frantic need from his rut. You crouch down to grab the discarded silk robe, now smeared with dirt and littered with leaves and sticks from the ground. “This m-might be ruined now,” you say quietly, still a little off kilter from the force of your orgasm. You hold it out to him, and while his jaw tightens a bit he still gives you a smile.

“Not an issue, my dear,” he assures you as he plucks it from your fingers. With a wave of his hand it’s as good as new, and he gestures to you to turn so he can place it back on your shoulders, helping to ease it over your arms and tightening the sash around your waist like he had before the chase. “I rather think it suits you- for the duration of my rut, at the very least.”

You blush. “I’ll make sure to throw it on every time,” you say with a chuckle, testing the strength of your legs with a couple steps. “I think I can manage to walk this time, but I might need a little-”

“Of course.” He holds his arm out for you to grasp, the picture of a gentlemen despite the chase and rough fucking he had just given you. “I would transport us back but I’m afraid I’ve expended much of my energy in chasing you out here.” He watches you from the corner of his eyes, and part of you thinks that he just finds it satisfying to see your knees weak because of him.

You glance back at the clearing as you walk away, and you can see the glow of the stars and moon where it cuts through the trees. “That was a really pretty spot,” you tell him, and his eyebrows raise. “Seriously- that whole area is just gorgeous. Is it a deer thing? Or something from, you know. Up there?” You point skyward, hoping he’ll understand that you mean from when he was alive without having to explicitly state it.

His smile turns wistful. “A bit of both, I suppose,” he admits. “I’ve always found myself a bit more at peace among nature than anywhere else. The cacophony of living creatures, the cover of darkness for more illicit activities. It’s always brought me comfort.”

“Gives you some space for the more cervine activities too, huh? Like a nice chase through the trees.” You nudge him with your hip as the normal side of his room comes into view. “I really did make some good distance!”

Alastor smirks down at you. “You seem like you had a grand time running from me, darling. Perhaps we repeat the experiment- see how long you can evade me next time before I catch you.”

“If you can catch me without cheating I’m game,” you say, and yelp in surprise when he swipes an arm under your legs to carry you the way he had last time, depositing you onto the bed. You’re enveloped in his scent again he he lowers himself down to you, tongue trailing between the folds of the robe and descending, and before Alastor ensures that you’re so mindless with pleasure that you can’t sass him, you have the faint thought that you really should start thinking about what you want out of this deal before he asks again.

You can’t have him knowing that you’re content to keep going just like this, splayed in his bed with a sky full of stars just out of reach.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #my stuff <3

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dixons-sunshine · 3 months

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(Masterlist updated 2024/05/26)

★ You can just call me Krys.

★ I'm a woman and I go by she/her pronouns.

★ I like to read and I write stories, although I feel like they're not that good.

★ I love a lot of things, including The Walking Dead, Supernatural, Marvel, Stranger Things and a lot of other things.

★ My comfort character is Daryl Dixon.

★ My favourite seasons in The Walking Dead are seasons 2 and 6.

★ Richonne is my favourite TWD ship.

★ Snakes and spiders can go to hell.

★ I have kinemortophobia, which is ironic, considering my love for TWD.

★ Proud owner of one hyperactive, annoying, loving dog and a couple of cats who love me one minute, then hate me the next.

★ I tend to stay up late. I'm a night owl.

★ I started watching TWD for Glenn, but I stayed for Daryl.

★ Rick was the first TWD character I ever saw. Briefly saw him on screen a few years back, long before I officially started watching the show.

★ English and Math nerd.

★ I have a huge tendency to ramble, so I apologise in advance if I do.

★ I love to interact with everyone online, but I'm too awkward to reach out first.

★ I'm always down to discuss theories, headcannons or anything else. Just inbox or DM me!

★ I write whenever I have time, so I might post very frequently or every once in a while.

★ I don't tolerate any racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia, hate language, DV, etc. This blog is a safe space for everyone!

★ I edit on TikTok. My username is @/dixonssunshine.

★ I'll keep on adding as I write.

★ This does not include my stories written in 2022.

★ Fluff—❤️ Angst—💔 Smut—🔥 Suggestive—👀

The Walking Dead

ONE SHOTS:

Scooby Snacks With Your Whiskey ❤️

You Are My Sunshine ❤️

In SICKNESS And In Health ❤️

I Found You 💔❤️

Sleepy Time ❤️

Something To Prove 💔❤️

Hazelnut ❤️

Daddy's Little Girl ❤️

Night Terrors ❤️

Pregnant Pause 💔❤️

Spot Of Tea ❤️

Feel The Rhythm In Your Soul ❤️

I'm Right Here 💔❤️

Holding On To You ❤️

Just A Bad Dream 💔❤️

Two Plus Two Makes Four 💔❤️

I Never Lived For The Applause 💔❤️

Cleansing The Mind, The Soul And The Body ❤️

Just Try It ❤️

Run Away With You ❤️

Spa Day ❤️

Observe ❤️🔥

His Motorcycle Princess ❤️

That's What Makes You Beautiful 💔❤️

Sleepy Head ❤️

His Little Girl ❤️

Bloodthirsty 🔥

All The Love ❤️

Punishment Enough 💔❤️

The Importance Of Secret Keeping ❤️

HEADCANNONS:

Daryl Dixon x Pregnant!Reader headcannons ❤️

Daryl Dixon x Mom!Reader With Baby Headcannons ❤️

Daryl Dixon x Former!Celebrity!Fem!Reader Headcannons ❤️

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader—Daryl With A Kid Headcannons ❤️

Vampire!Daryl Dixon x Reader Headcannons 💔❤️

SERIES:

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU:

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams ❤️

Dyeing For The Haircut ❤️

Snitches Get Stitches ❤️💔

Third Time's Not Always The Charm ❤️

Through The Good Times And The Bad 💔❤️

Mouth To Mouth ❤️

Breathe With Me 👀💔❤️

Headcannons ❤️👀/ Part Two ❤️👀/Part Three ❤️💔

A Trip Down Memory Lane ❤️

Selfish 💔❤️

The Archer's Girl 💔❤️

Beside The River ❤️

Someone To Love ❤️

The Morning After ❤️

Yielding Isn't My Middle Name:

Chapter One ❤️💔

ONE SHOTS:

Because Of Her 💔❤️

ONE SHOTS:

The One That He Wants ❤️👀

Blade 2:

ONE SHOTS:

Stay Quiet, Pretty Boy 🔥

Apologies, Baby 💔❤️

Cuddler ❤️🔥

(More coming soon!)

★ Done with it. ★ Almost done with it. ★Working on it. ★Haven't started on it yet.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

★ Yielding Isn't My Middle Name: Chapter One—Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader.

★ Inner Fury—Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader.

★ My requests are: OPEN.

★ I'm taking requests for:

→ Daryl Dixon

→ Scud Frohmeyer

→ Rick Grimes

→ Michonne Grimes

→ Rosita Espinosa

→ Glenn Rhee

→ Carol Peletier (Platonic only.)

→ Negan Smith

★ My default is Fem!Reader. However, I'll write for any gender, skin type, culture, etc. Just specify it in your request!

★ I'll write any tropes/kinks I'm comfortable with, and if I'm not comfortable with it, I'll let you know!

★ Some tropes/kinks I'm not comfortable with writing is non-con, dub-con, incest, stepcest, pedophilia, pervert!(character), piss kinks, mommy/daddy kinks (won't write it myself, but love reading it in other fics), hardcore degradation, spanking/any bodily harm, cheating (if it's on the reader with the person I'm pairing them with), rape and abuse unless it's in the past, and fetishes, like foot fetishes for instance. There are a few others as well, but these are the main ones I don't feel comfortable writing.

★ I won't write character x character. I obviously have my favourite ships and characters I feel should get together, but I won't write for ships. It's not something I'm comfortable with. I'll include canon couples in my works, but not ships that haven't gone canon yet.

★ I'll try my best to write every request I can, but remember I have a life outside of Tumblr and it might take me a little while to get to your request.

★ Tumblr has a tendency to delete asks sometimes, so if I don't get to your request, there's a huge chance that it got deleted.

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©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#masterlist #navigation #the walking dead

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charlottecutepie · 4 months

Text

☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: Ive been thinking for a very long time whether I should publish this fic here. this is my fav fic I wrote for fnaf, I especially like the way I portrayed William here. so please, if any of you would like to see this story here, can you leave a comment? It’ll help me to understand. I’m just unsure if I should post this fic here :’’)

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 2.

Chapter 1. Thoughts

Chilly spring night. Light wind and rain. It's so fresh outside that the opposite effect appears: you feel as if you are suffocating from excess air. Outside is your favourite smell of wet grass after the rain. Light smile appears on your lips, and you carelessly go out on the porch of your house, looking at the beautiful view in front of you.

At such moments, everything around seems to be a part of you, you feel some kind of connection with nature and this world. Peace, tranquility, two things what you lack in life.

Today was a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better? Tomorrow will be the same. And when will it be better? Does this hell have an end?

Your head is filled with bad thoughts. It feels like every day is getting a little worse than the previous one. You never understood why you deserved such treatment from your father. It was as if he was doing everything so that you wouldn't feel like his daughter. He never even called you that. Something bad happened in your family every day, mom and dad always argued, and you always ran into your room in a state of panic, anxiety. What if father does something to her? That's what happened a few years ago. When you called your aunt in tears, begging her to come, because your father broke your mom's leg and beat her to a concussion. You could have been next if your aunt hadn't arrived on time. That evening, the picture of father changed dramatically in your little child's head.

“Father” means something cold, something cruel. The one who can punch, beat, shout, scream. Abuse.

You live with this thought to this day, but the only thing that has changed is that now there is no father anymore. He died a month ago, which was a shock to your whole little family. You hardly remember what happened exactly on the day of his death, but you clearly memorised your mother who cried all night because she knew well that the only one who could work to feed the family was her husband.

And now, because of this husband she cannot find a well-paid job, because he took care to provide her with a serious disability. And you're too young to work, first you must finish school and university.

Your skin was covered with goosebumps, you went back into the house. Passing by mom's room, you made sure that she was asleep and went to your own one.

Tomorrow is another day.

…

June 22.

“Y/n, breakfast is ready.” you heard mom's voice from the kitchen. Telling her you'd be coming soon, you headed to the bathroom to comb your hair and wash your face.

On the dining table you saw a plate with your favorite breakfast. Pancakes with honey, it couldn't not make you happy. You smiled and sat down opposite your mom. Woman was in a joyful mood.

“Good morning, dear, how did you sleep?” she asked gently, examining your face expression. That's how your conversation started, about everything and nothing at once. She told something about her plans for today, for a week, about her friends, about how one of them gave birth again. You just enjoyed her monologue, sometimes nodding and shaking your head. It was nice for you to see a sparkle in mom's eyes, it was something strange and unique for you, but warming soul. “I absolutely forgot that soon is your birthday!”

“Oh, really? If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have remembered…” you answered in confusion, fidgeting in your chair and twitching your leg. For some reason, the mention of your birthday made you uncomfortable. Probably because it will be your first birthday without your father. After all, when he was alive, you never really celebrated it. The maximum that was — sweets that your mother gave you in secret from him. You wonder what will happen this time?

“How are we going to celebrate?” Mom asked, smile on her face.

You looked at the floor, nervously fiddling with your shorts. You scratched your head, trying to think of something, but no idea came to mind. Your thoughts are empty again.

“It's your 18th birthday… We need to celebrate it well somehow.” for a second she paused, before looking at you with cheerful face. “Oh… Mr. Afton!”

Your eyes widened in surprise, because after the funeral, your family stopped communicating with Afton family.

“Mom, what are you up to?” you frowned. To be honest, you always got shivers running down your spine from his name, because your last meeting was at that cemetery, on the day of your father's funeral. Memories have entered your mind, forcing you to remember your last dialogue with Mr. Afton.

After the burial itself happened, you ran away from the crowd away. Your heart was racing like crazy, trying to jump out of your chest. You sat down on a wet bench, covering your face in hysterics. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto a puddle under the bench.

“Young lady,” a low-pitched male voice called you out of hysteria. “Everything is okay? You've been sitting here for hour.”

You opened your eyes and raised your head. Next to you was standing was a tall, middle-aged man with dark brown hair, dressed in black trousers and a jacket. He leaned towards you, holding an umbrella over your head. His face seemed painfully familiar, but because of the hysteria, you couldn't remember who it was.

“Oh god, Y/n? I didn't recognize you, little one. Why are you sitting here all alone?” he smiled broadly as he sat down next to you on the bench, still holding the umbrella for you. “Your mom is looking for you, she's so worried. Her beloved girl is lost.”

You recognised this man. It was none other than William Afton. One of your father's friends, he often came to visit you, and your family also visited him. You were embarrassed by ignoring his questions because you didn't know what to respond. He's been staring at your face the whole time.

“Come on, princess, I see how cold you are.” with these words, he took off his jacket, putting it on your shoulders. “I understand how hard it is for you, honey.”

You haven't received so many nicknames from any men for all your 17 years of life. Never, not once. His voice at some point began to seem more comfortable and soothing. Because of all the surging emotions, you burst into tears again in front of him, no longer hiding your face. William, not wasting a minute, threw umbrella and took you in his arms, so that your face was hidden in his chest. His cold hands stroked your hair, soothing you, calming you. It may have looked strange from out of context, but you really needed support in such hard moment.

“Don't cry, Y/n. You'll be fine, little one.” he talked and talked endlessly, but because of your own tears and sobs, you ignored everything, only burying your nose in his chest more.

“He's the owner of a pizzeria! Do you want to celebrate there? I'm sure he'll give us a discount in honor of such an event.” her smile never disappeared for a second. You were already beginning to doubt at how real her emotions were.

“Are you sure? We don't have much money anyway…”

“Never mind, I want you to finally have the best birthday, dear.” she winked and got up from the table, putting the plates and mugs in the sink.

Your lips curled at the thought of having to see William again.

#william afton smut #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #steve raglan x reader #fnaf william afton #michael afton x reader #william afton imagines #fnaf x y/n

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

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Scorpio Curse (König x F!OC)

Part 2/3 of Valkyrie

(Part 1 here)

Summary: König gets an order to make a female SpecGru sniper talk, but König doesn't want to hurt women.

Category: Smut 🔞, angst, fluff

Tags & warnings: Explicit mature content +18 audiences only, strangers to lovers (slight enemies to lovers), dubious consent, threats of rape, virgin!König, size kink, size difference, p in v, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, squirting, hugs and cuddles, super fluffy ending. König will be named in later chapters.

Part 2: Mostly König who is in desperate need of a hug (don't worry, he will get it soon enough :*)

A/N: KorTac and SpecGru are rivaling military contractors, Conor is König's superior (and a huge villain), and I just wanted to write angsty smut featuring our favourite Austrian boi.

"You should've come to me, König."

He was still here.

No one had told him to leave his stuff and sign the papers and get the fuck out.

He had been called to see the team leader, though.

Immediately.

"It's true that we don't do that shit. Especially with the SpecGru, not after everything that already went through."

He told his side of the story, and apparently, the command agreed that Conor had made a mistake.

"Your superior officer slipped, but that doesn't mean you have the right to do whatever the fuck you deem more appropriate."

The leader's cheeks were red, and his voice traveled from peaceful, tired account to a booming loud yell.

"To tell you the truth, König, you're good at what you do. But pull this kind of shit again, and the KorTac will ensure you lose your rifle for good. They'll make sure you'll get spat in the face in every fucking PMC on this fucking planet, you hear me?"

He was surprised he didn't catch spit flying right now.

"Sir."

"Now go fix that goddamn fence."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

König, former weapons sergeant of the Jagdkommando and current operator of the special forces known as KorTac, felt like a fresh recruit when he turned heel and marched from the office. He thought about asking whether the surveillance tape would be destroyed or if it was already but sensed that this was not the best moment to ask questions. The leader's tired voice followed him as he walked away with cold sweat tingling down his back.

"Jesus. Where did you even get those bolt cutters.."

He worked half a day to get it right. Repairing the fence was easy, but fixing it so that it wasn't a weak spot in the area's defense was not. He had kneeled down in this exact same spot less than 24 hours ago, with a tense, silent cargo thrown on his back in a fireman's carry.

He had yanked the door to the surveillance room open to let the men know they could get a coffee break while he watched the prisoner — only to find that there was no one there. He had been played twice the fool, and she had paid the price. He wasn't man enough to tell her it had been all in vain when he went to get her.

He certainly wasn't going to tell her that he would still do it all again.

She stayed mute the whole journey to the fence, remained quiet even when he placed her gently on the ground and showed her the hole he had made on the chain link fence for her to crawl through.

"There you go, little Walküre."

She stared at his work for a while, sniffed, then looked up at him.

"You think you can fit through that?" He asked, although he had made sure the hole was big enough for even him to go through.

"Yeah…" she uttered her first words since forever before reaching for her road to freedom. Realizing she was still tied, she pivoted back.

"My hands.." she started, but he was already kneeling on the ground with his combat knife pulled out. With utter care, he cut her loose. She caught him after it was done, and he glanced at those tiny fingers that barely reached to close around his wrists.

"Thank you."

He raised his stare, and her eyes bored into his as she ensured her words had sunk in. Then she turned, dived for the hole… but turned back again.

"König."

He had enough time to discover that the naked pain in her eyes was of the exact same kind as the agony spreading in his heart before she leaped to him, threw her arms around him — and suddenly, he was home.

"Don't get yourself killed." Her voice was a muffled sob that hit his skin through the mask as she pressed her face against his neck and squeezed him with a surprising amount of strength. Dumbfounded, he raised his arms but wasn't sure if she would welcome the touch. He didn't want her to think he would seize her just when she had been offered a way out.

"Promise that you won't get killed."

He knew that he would probably get maimed for this. At the very least, he would lose his contract. But he hadn't even thought about it when he made that hole and carried her here.

She released him and pulled back. Her eyes were pure attention, a time-halting awareness that seized him without warning. It didn't matter that he was loaded with gear, that he had a helmet and a mask on. She could see him. All of him. And she smiled.

Then she reached for his mask.

He did nothing to stop her as she grabbed the hood and started to lift it. His vision went black with the ascending cloth for the longest second…

And then he could see again — see her wide eyes roam his face. The silence was pierced by a few raindrops, the first of an impending heavy rain. They landed on his helmet and on his arm guards, specked on her cheeks as they fell from the heavy clouds above them.

"Wow," she breathed, with parted lips and eyes that sparkled.

She grabbed his helmet through the cloth and pushed both the hood and the piece of metal away. The bundle landed somewhere next to him with a soft clunk a second before her lips pressed against his.

Rain fell, and with it, the paint from around his eyes — all the black he had surrounded himself with ran down his cheeks and neck, all the way under the collar of his shirt and over his heart that thumped like a maniac. They were in a warm August shower together, and she pulled him by his neck, threatened to swallow him, and he could do nothing but melt and surrender and answer with the same gentle hunger.

Her fingers swept across his chin; they caressed his temples, brushed his scalp, and tugged at his hair, not hindered by the fact that there wasn't much to grab hold of in the classic military undercut. They slid down his neck, grabbed his tactical vest, and pulled him deeper into the kiss. She sucked his lip, kissed the raindrops away, and he was hard as a rock even in the pants that were soaked and cool.

When she relented, all too soon, he would've given everything to freeze time and stay there. Under that hail, kneeled in that mud — with her, forever.

"I can't go through that fence unless you promise me," she panted in his mouth, and every single fiber in his body told him not to promise anything. He wanted to grab her instead, take her back, tuck her somewhere safe, and keep her as his own.

"Ok," he whispered.

A gush of hot air landed on his face as she gave a short laugh.

"Ok what?" She smiled against his mouth, her teeth colliding with his lips.

"I… promise."

"'Atta boy," he felt the words before he heard them, and she kissed him once more, and he could've drowned in that kiss. In those words.

"I'll never forget this," she said, lips wet with all that rain, eyes blinking through the drops that slithered down her face and got caught in her lashes.

I'll never forget you.

"No problem."

"No problem…? God. Could you get any more charming?"

She thought he was charming…

"Just one more thing, hero."

She bit her lip, looked down on the soaked grass, then up at him, and smiled.

“What’s with the hood? I really don’t get it. You look super nice.” She winked an eye at him. And then she turned and crawled through that hole and vanished into the darkness.

He was left alone in the descending rain, and there he had remained ever since.

He was convinced he still had her scent on him. He never washed that shirt he had been wearing the day he lifted her in his lap. He tried to catch her from it, and for a few days, he thought he actually did. But then that scent became only a memory.

Nevertheless, it followed him everywhere. No one knew that he was encompassed by it. That he was shrouded with her as he walked the base or rose on the plane.

Days passed by, and he still felt her lips on his own. Her taste in his mouth. Felt her legs around him, her soft walls surrounding him.

He replayed the frenzied vision over and over again in his head to remind himself that he had truly been inside her. That he had made her produce all those sounds. Made her clench around him and smell like honeydew and summers by the lake. He realized that he had started to truly live only after he had opened the door to that bleak room full of her. And then his life froze like a movie that was pressed on an eternal pause as he saw the soles of her boots push against the muddy ground to get her through that fence and away from him.

Three weeks passed — three weeks without her.

He did his job, went on missions, and executed orders to the letter.

But mostly, he was in his thoughts.

Mostly, he thought of her.

He thought of her when he had a rifle in his hand during ops. He thought of her during briefings, when he did deadlifts, racked a barbell after bench press, or sparred with training knives.

He thought of her in showers, in the mess hall, and most of all, in bed at night when he stroked himself to a release that eased his sleep.

He had never been so virile, not even as a teen. His libido was off the roof as the only thing he could think about was how he could get to jerk himself off in the shower stall or in his bunk after the day was done. Thoughts of her were his reward, the only thing that seemed to sustain him.

She was the most radiant thing in his life: everything else had faded away, turned to gray and black. Monotone, lifeless, empty. The pain faded for a while every time he came into his fist. Then it hit him with an even more crippling force as he realized that she wasn't real; she wasn't here.

Still, he fantasized what it would be like to hold her after, how they would drift off to sleep together. He envisioned her skin, her scent, her hair. The top of her head against his chin, her little hands around his neck, her laugh, all of it.

Sometimes when he had a hard day, he fantasized how her body would press softly against his back, and she would slide an arm around him, and it would disappear beneath his shirt. Her palm would come and rest right where his heart was, and she would just hold him.

On the worst days, he cried. He thought of the bullies and what they would say and how they would laugh if they saw him now, curled up in the soiled sheets with a cock in his hand, falling asleep on a tear-soaked pillow.

After a few months, he started to dissolve.

He got reckless on the field — jumped out of the helo before it had even landed properly, was all sloppy with his cover, wasted bullets, and revealed his position for the sake of getting up close and personal, for having the satisfaction of killing his opponents with a knife or with his bare hands.

People complained. Hutch complained, Fender complained — even Zero complained.

Some said it was just good old König, that he didn't care. Medics said he had a guardian angel with him when he never got hit, got barely even scratched when at the same time, some of the best operators were severely injured.

And some saw right through it.

"He fell in love with that sniper bitch. That's what's wrong with 'im," Conor had said.

He had nearly attacked the man for what he said — what he had called her. His angel.

But he knew that's what Conor wanted: to taunt him into making a mistake that would result in his dismissal from the force. Would probably destroy his chances to continue a career anywhere in the military. And then he would quickly find himself in civilian life, where he had never quite fit into.

"Promise me you won't get killed."

He had promised her to stay alive, and he couldn't disappoint her. So it became a prayer. Every night he made an offering to her, so she would keep him safe. No bullet could touch him. He knew that somehow she could feel his longing, the love he had for her. She would protect her like the war maiden that she was. And even if he caught that bullet, he knew it would only take him to heaven. She had already carried him there.

Six months without her, and people started to fear him.

His teammates looked at him with dread as he geared up for missions with the secret knowledge that he was practically immortal. The team leader said he resembled a machine, and he took it as a compliment. Even Lieutenant kept his mouth shut and looked at him with something akin to respect.

But he got even more time off when he wanted the exact opposite. He was pretty sure that there was a note in his file now. Right after the screaming red words released a prisoner without the requisite order from a superior officer. A comment that said he was behaving wrong, that he was unstable or something. They offered him cognitive therapy, sleeping pills, meditation groups, ice baths, even acupuncture. He turned it all down, knowing that it was no use.

And so they sent him home more and more often.

It was even worse there. He never wanted the leaves, but KorTac was firm in their protocol. Contract soldiers needed time off duty to prevent "substantial impairment concerning the operator's ability to work." Even if he wanted to, he couldn't stay in the barracks and get every mission he could get his hands on.

He sat in his apartment, slept late, went for a swim, went to the gym, and came back to sit and sleep. He thought of her when he walked the streets with a hole in his chest, a hole as deep as the Mariana Trench. He saw her in all the women of the same height and weight as her. At some point, he realized he had never paid so much attention to women as he did now.

"Go get a pint and a girl, König. Just get it out of your head."

Zero meant well, but he could've punched him too for saying that.

He didn't want a girl; he wanted her.

Pint sounded good, though. He had visited the nearest pub only a few times before, but the place had only reminded him that he was not home and that pubs were different from bierstubes. But right now, he didn't want to go back to that cold, dark flat to stare at the ceiling and wait till sleep would come.

He pushed the door open and stomped his feet on the mat even though it didn't rain outside. He walked further into the dimly lit hall and saw that early evening wasn't the busiest time in this place: more than half of the tables were empty.

And then he looked for the counter and saw her.

His Kriegsmädchen was there.

His Walküre was here.

She was here and looked just the way he remembered her — no, even more luminous. Glowing.

Perhaps he had finally lost it. But he kept looking, blinking, and saw her fingertips curl around a glass, saw the hair she had tied into a high ponytail, the smile that spread across her face just before she laughed.

The angelic sound went straight between his legs and stabbed a hole in his gut, and he was bleeding — months and months of pain, right there in the hallway of a quiet pub.

She was alive and safe, laughing, and so lovely that his hands started to tremble just as they had when his bullies approached him back in school. It was odd because she was everything but. He took a step, heart thumping and palms sweating, like he was approaching an enemy he knew he had to finish with his bare hands.

He walked to the counter in the eye of a storm, and she evaded his gaze and tried to act like she didn't even notice that some man was striding toward her.

Did men approach her often?

Of course they did. And she tried to look like an immovable stone, a prey that wouldn't draw attention.

"Walküre?"

And only then did she turn her gaze, eyes filled with both fear and hope.

Her mouth opened, and she drew a sharp breath, shoulders tense. He had to fight tooth and nail to not grab her and press her against that counter or kiss her, devour her while he carried her off out that door...

"... Valkyrie?" Her friend repeated sarcastically, with a birth of a laugh on her lips, staring at him like he was a circus attraction. He didn't spare even a glance her way.

Couldn't, because he was mesmerized by the most soothing gaze in the world.

"Hi," she breathed, voice almost breaking.

His eyes went straight to her lips as she said it, the sound far too similar in his mind to the breaths that had escaped her in that dull, grey room.

She cleared her throat and swallowed.

"Kate, this is… Siegfried. A friend from my old job."

He knew he should move, look to the side, and say hello. Act normal. But he couldn't move, couldn't even blink.

She pursed her lips and looked down at her drink, at her friend, and then back up at him.

"Nice to meet you," her friend spoke, and he finally managed to turn his eyes toward her and nod slowly.

“You must be the battering ram.” She took a sip of her drink with a flash of eyebrows.

He heard a sharp inhale from beside him and only wanted to ignore everything and everyone else in the room except for the one who gasped like that.

“You know, the one they send to charge through doors?”

“Done that too.”

The friend called Kate's eyes widened from the stare he knew made most people uncomfortable.

"What are you doing here?"

His angel spoke, and he turned. She was looking even more beautiful with flushed cheeks. It was strange to see her like this: sitting gracefully on that bar stool, wearing jeans and a bit of mascara. She wasn't covered in dirt and sleepless nights and fear, and he realized that he never wanted to see her like that again. He wanted her safe and sound, and happy; even if she had come on this earth to fight, just like he, even if she was deadly with a rifle. Even if she was a more able-bodied sniper than he ever could be.

"To get a lager."

"No, I mean," she laughed, sending warmth between his legs, "Why are you here, here?"

After a blink or two, he realized she meant the town.

"I'm on leave. I live here."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "Kate, um. Would you… Would you mind if we catch up a bit?"

He saw from the corner of his eye that the woman looked him up and down, and then a smile started to creep up her face.

"You know what June, I think I'm gonna head home. You two catch up for as long as you need and I'll see ya later, ok?"

Her name was June.

Like midsummer fests and seagulls and Radler.

Honey and raindrops…

"I'll go grab a table," he declared, thinking how odd that sounded, thinking whether his English was somehow off. As if he was going to physically grab a table and raise it in the air...

Kate chuckled behind his back as he turned and headed for a darker, more private corner.

"Jesus Christ, June… I knew you did some special commando shit, but that guy is -"

"Will you keep your voice down?"

"I mean… If you catch up all night, I doubt you'll be able to walk tomorrow."

"Kate…! "

The rest of the exchange of words faded as he reached the table and adjusted the chairs to be able to sit down.

Then he noticed that he was still wearing his jacket and got up to take it off. He saw her coming with her drink in hand, and she flashed a smile at him as he threw the leather bomber across the chair next to him.

"Nice jacket."

He looked down at the dark brown leather, worn and looking mostly what people called vintage or something.

"You gonna go get that beer, sweetie?"

Sweetie.

"Ja," he nodded, turned, and marched back to the counter.

He ordered a beer, then asked what the lady over there was having.

"I think she, ah… ordered a mojito." The bartender extended his neck to the side to glance at their table. "Yeah, that's a mojito."

"One of those as well."

The man gave him a look that distinctly said You really think you're gonna get some of that? He didn't know what it was in his aura that told people he was a loser. Or a menace. And he didn't know which of those looks made the pain worse. But all of it faded instantly as she greeted him with a shy smile when he returned to the table with the drinks.

"Oh, you shouldn't have… I haven't even finished this one." She raised those lovely eyes at him, smiling, smiling… "Thank you, König."

Her fingertips brushed his as he gave it to her, the glass sweating with tiny cold drops of condensed water. She had pale pink, almost nude nail polish that made her nails look shiny and pure, her hands even more delicate. She watched as he scoured through the chairs to take a seat, pick a coaster and place his own glass on the table.

"A big one."

She then turned those playful faerie eyes on him, and he was suddenly grateful that he had picked the loose, black cargo pants to wear today… and that he was sitting.

"This is considered a small beer where I come from."

"I'm sure it is," she chuckled. The tight, white t-shirt she wore reminded him of the first time he had seen her, even though it was not one of those heavy cotton, military shirts. He grabbed the beer to do something, anything, and raised it to his lips, almost pouring the liquid all over him when he took a sip. She watched him gulp and smiled even wider. He was half hard at that point and had to spread his legs to accommodate and conceal what was happening in his pants and under the table.

"What about you, Walküre? What are you doing here?"

"I'm helping a friend -uh, Kate. She had an awful breakup."

He nodded and kept picking up his beer, drinking a small sip and trying to hit the center of the coaster as he set the glass back down.

"You're not with SpecGru anymore?"

"I signed off one week after… After. You know."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, even though he wasn't sorry at all. At least, not for the fact that she was out of harm's way.

"Nah, don't be. It was for the best. I'm able to sleep at night and everything."

She had trouble sleeping? Maybe that's why she looked even more radiant than before. She had slept well.

"I was worried about you."

"Really?" she tilted her head to the side, and her eyes started to shine even brighter.

"... that you might not find your way home."

"I'm a big girl. Trained with the Green Berets and everything.. But it warms my heart to hear that. I worried about you, too."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Sure, I mean… I was afraid you'd get into some trouble because of me."

Someone laughed at the next table, but the unexpected sound reached him through a comfortable haze; like he was sitting underwater. The battlefield wasn't nearly as distressing an environment as this peaceful pub - or any other place he rarely visited. But this time, with her, it was not too bad. His senses were blown wide, but he wasn't afraid.

"Also ja… They did yell at me."

"That's horrible. I could never yell at you."

He felt himself nearly choke on the beer, tried to breathe through his nose, and forced the liquid down with an audible gulp.

"You kept your promise," she said in a low voice, her smile fading slightly. Her eyes locked with his, and he basked in the warmth.

"Natürlich."

I prayed for you every single night, Kriegsmädchen.

She gave him a small, sad smile and looked down, swirling her ice-filled glass.

"You know I…" she started, took a breath, then another. "I've missed you, König."

He squeezed the tall glass before realizing that it might actually break at some point.

"I've missed you too, Walküre."

He looked at his beer, still halfway full, and then at the completely untouched drink he had brought her.

"You want to go to my place?"

Part 3:

#könig fanfiction #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #könig imagine #my fics #könig x oc #könig #könig x female oc

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vespidphoenix · 2 months

Text

Entirely at your service

Tag list: @fanaticsnail @turtletaubwrites @weaversofnulbundin

It's Sanji's turn to stay on the Thousand Sunny while the rest of the Straw Hats explore a new island, so he makes his way up to the crow's nest for his watch. He is pleasantly surprised in more ways than one by what, or rather who, he finds up there.

Notes: NSFW, minors begone, lots of swearing, friends to lovers, porn with feelings, idiots in love, chubby OC, some angst, lots of fluff, praise kink, breast worship, consent really is sexy, inappropriate(?) use of observation haki, etc; word count 6.3k

AN: Baby's first fan fiction! Ya girl can have a little a shameless self-insert, as a treat. I've only seen OPLA and I'm not past the East Blue in the manga/anime yet, but I've done my best to keep everything consistent with canon.

AN 2: I use French as the language of the Celestial Dragons, and both Sanji and Amy are fluent. Most of the time, I'll put the English words in brackets at the end of the paragraph, but there are some recurring phrases that I'll leave untranslated: mère bleue is 'blue mother', as in Mother Ocean; merde is 'shit'; mon amour, chérie, and ma chère are endearments

Chapter One: you are here! | Next chapter | Masterlist: coming soon

Edit: read this chapter on ao3!

(Banner courtesy of @cafekitsune)

As soon as the hatch leading to the crow’s nest clangs shut, Sanji sets his snack tray on the floor mats and collapses with a dramatic groan.

“Fuck me raw,” he sighs.

“As appealing as that sounds, that’s gonna have to wait another couple days per Chopper’s advice,” a feminine voice deadpans behind him.

Sanji sits upright with a start, nearly knocking over his water bottle. “Mère bleue!” he exclaims as he turns to face his crew mate; “for some reason I thought you were in the landing party today.”

Amy’s reply is drowned out by the pounding of Sanji’s heart when he blinks and notices just how casually she is dressed. He recognizes her sarong as a recent gift from a grateful cloth merchant—he would stand by the assertion that everything looked good on Nami, the original recipient, but he’d have to agree with her that it suited their crew’s interpreter better—and the crocheted halter top as Amy’s own handiwork. He feels a sudden itch to find out for himself just how soft a yarn she chose for this particular work of art…

For lack of a mirror, Amy could not see what her face looked like; but she imagined that if she could, her eyes would be wide and sparkling with mischief. It’s certainly the feeling she always seems to get whenever she’s face-to-face with the handsome blond before her: a grin pressing at her cheeks to escape through the seam of lips pressed together, eyelids spread as if to take in more of him.

(Sometimes, she reckons she could spread other parts of herself for that purpose, if she thought him willing to put his money where his mouth always seems to go.)

“I’m not complaining, mind you,” she continues to say, “but this is the third—no, fourth time in a row!”

Sanji gulps and shakes the slightly-glazed expression from his face. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? I was…distracted by your beauty.” He winks one piercing blue eye, and skepticism be damned, she feels heat creeping over her body and pooling between her legs.

Amy rolls her eyes and fidgets with her sarong in lieu of making a snarky comment about blindfolds.

“As I was saying while you were ogling me, I was going to be one of the landing party, but Nami insisted on having Usopp join her in mapping the island because my handwriting is so much better than his, so I should be the one to help you with inventory. She’s not wrong, per se, but this is the third or fourth time in a row this has happened, and part of me wants to call bullshit.”

“Part of you? What about the rest of you?” Sanji asks, resolutely fixing his gaze on Amy’s eyes instead of letting it drift to her bust or the soft rolls of her exposed torso.

This time it’s Amy’s turn to deliver a blush-inducing wink. “The rest of me is simply happy to be spending time with you.”

“Well, lucky for us, sweetheart, I took the liberty of doing inventory earlier this morning so that Miss Nami would have a grocery list,” Sanji replies after taking a deep breath, “so I am…entirely at your service.”

Entirely at your service. The words tickle Amy as she takes in Sanji’s shirtless form, supine once more and sporting that megawatt grin. As her gaze trickles down from his abs to those steel-hard thighs, she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed by how smug he looks; Mother Ocean knows how handsome he knows he is, how hard he’s worked to earn those well-toned—

“Have I rendered you speechless, mademoiselle?”

Sanji’s voice, sultry and teasing, interrupts her train of thought.

Entirely at your service.

Sanji knows he’s close to some sort of victory when Amy’s face flushes even more deeply and she still doesn’t answer right away. There’s something uniquely thrilling about fencing with words and looks the way Mosshead trains with Wado Ichimonji—maneuvering, testing, anticipating, parrying, scoring—and he reckons it has to do with the way both parties win something if one goes about it correctly.

He watches and sits up as Amy walks around to his front before she settles next to the tray of snacks. His heart thumps harder in his chest the same way that foolish thing does every time they’re in such close proximity, not quite touching but close enough that he wouldn’t even need to fully extend his arm were he to caress her cheek—

“You don’t need to sit up on my account, handsome. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer later, but right now maybe I’ll serve you some—how does that sound?” Amy plucks a single grape from the cluster and holds it above his mouth.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

It’s not often Sanji allows himself to contemplate what he might do with such an offer. As a child, he’d served in order to live; as an adolescent and now as an adult, he lives to serve. But sometimes it occurs to him that letting someone serve him instead can itself be an act of…well…service.

(It will take some time before he allows himself even to think the word ‘love’ in place of ‘service’, and longer still before he allows himself to speak it; but it’s there, waiting like a daffodil bulb in early March for safe conditions to bloom.)

There will be time for Sanji to unpack all of this later, when a beautiful woman is not offering him a grape that looks as sweet and delicious as the person holding it, looking at him with the inviting heat of an onsen—or perhaps it is the sort of hunger that no amount of grapes can quench but he might be able to satisfy anyway.

All Blue forbid he keep a lady waiting. He lowers himself back onto the floor mats and opens his mouth.

“Good boy,” Amy teases in her best attempt at a sultry purr, frowning when Sanji gives her a strange look and shifts uncomfortably instead of rolling his eyes. “Sorry, does my femme fatale impression need work? Too over-the-top, not campy enough, too demeaning?”

“No, that was—no, no, you’re fine,” he replies, suddenly a little breathless. “How about that grape?”

If Amy notices the hunger filling both his mind and his gym shorts, she mercifully does not comment on it.

There’s a look in Sanji’s eyes that, if she didn’t know better, Amy might call naked desire, and the idea renders her dizzy with want, or it could be dehydration—she’s not sure, not in this weather. She drops the grape in Sanji’s waiting mouth, pats his jaw, and gets up to let a breeze in through a window.

She can hear the slight frown in Sanji’s voice when he calls, “Are you alright, darling? Can I get you something to drink? I think I saw a fountain somewhere…”

“You’re not beating the waiter allegations from Zoro anytime soon, are you?” Amy chuckles, the cooler air having relieved her flustered state.

“He can call me a scullion for all I care; it’s a small price to pay to see you satisfied.” The chef curses under his breath; there are no spare cups up here, so sharing his canteen will have to suffice. He brings it to Amy with an apologetic smile.

She takes a sip and smiles gratefully, and allows her eyes once again to wander over Sanji’s chiseled body. “I have a tall glass of water to drink from, and that’s a good place to start.”

Sanji draws a sudden breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Keep talking like that, and we might not get to finish the snacks I brought up.”

A wicked grin spreads over Amy’s face, and Sanji knows he’s fallen into his own trap.

“How about I help you finish your snack, and you help me finish mine?”

He groans and tilts his head back, and the creeping heat that became smoldering want is stoked into flame by the huskiness of his voice, by the way his neck seems further exposed, there for the kissing—

“Say the word, Amy, and all of it is yours.”

Amy merely smiles. She steps past him, hooking an arm around the far side of his waist as she goes; when he spins around to face her once again, she tugs on the hand suddenly holding hers.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” she asks, nodding toward the tray.

A moment’s hesitation, and Sanji steps forward into the gap between them.

“Are you gonna call me a good boy if I do?” he asks almost under his breath, just above a whisper.

They’re standing so, so close together now, Sanji is sure Amy can feel his breath on her forehead and the place where his shorts are almost too tight to contain him—because she might have called him a tall glass of water, but to him her eyes are Dressrosi kahlua, and he is so drunk on her gaze he would confess to a lot more than his longings, just for another shot.

“I can call you anything you like,” she breathes, “when I am entirely at your service.”

Their lips meet now in a kiss that, for all the repartee and flirtation that preceded it, is gentle and unhurried, a moment to be savored. After a few moments they pull apart, all smiles, long enough for Sanji to remark:

“I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”

The pair dissolve into giggles and quick pecks as Sanji finally lays himself down beside the snacks.

To his left, recumbent and supporting herself on one arm, Amy realizes her mistake and gestures to the tray. "Would you mind passing me those?" she asks.

"I thought you were supposed to be serving me," he replied with a mock pout and still-twinkling eyes.

"I was always taught it was impolite to reach directly across someone's personal space." Amy raises an eyebrow, still looking amused.

Gently, tentatively, as if reaching out to pet a cat, Sanji places his left hand on the small of her back. The hitch in Amy's breath at his touch and the way her eyes widen send a tingling sensation down his spine, straight to his groin. He flashes her the most charming smile he can muster.

"Chérie, in case I haven't made it clear, I want you in my personal space; and unless I am reading you wrong, in which case I apologize sincerely..." He begins to remove his hand.

"No, no, keep doing that—"

(Amy almost doesn't recognize that plaintive voice as her own, but the way his broad palm spread across her back and the soothing way he moved his thumb in little circles have seared themselves into her mind like an addiction.)

Sanji, that smug, sexy bastard, grins and does as he is told.

“…if I am not mistaken, you want me in your personal space, too.”

Amy is speechless for a moment with an embarrassment she can’t quite explain, but she knows exactly how to get back at Sanji. With his hand back in its place holding her, she smiles sweetly and says:

“Thank you…”

—she moves not only to reach across him for the food, but also to straddle him entirely, which she is sure was his plan to begin with; but then she leans her head close to his, and her smile turns impish—

“…or should I say ‘good boy’?”

Pulling her waist closer with one hand and pushing himself up from the floor with the other arm, Sanji kisses Amy again, trailing along her jawline with an unmistakable urgency.

“Mon amour,” he pleads, “laisse-moi te montrer ce que tu m’inspires…” [Let me show you what you inspire in me...]

“Ho-hold on, lover boy,” Amy gasps, giving the smallest yelp when his hand squeezes a plush asscheek and presses her body against his hardness. “Don’t forget what you came here to do. We don’t—fuck—we don’t waste food.” She pushes against Sanji’s chest and hopes he can see the sympathetic reluctance in her face.

He whimpers. Sanji whimpers, and the sound of it is almost enough to break her resolve; but she knows that if he loved anything in the world more than women, it would be food alone. She presses her forehead to his and a gentle kiss to his nose.

“We don’t waste food.”

If Sanji didn’t know better, he’d think he was dreaming. If he’s dreaming, then woe betide the person who wakes him up, he thinks.

The afternoon sun backlights Amy’s head like a halo, and the breeze through the window causes her brown hair to flutter like a curtain or a sacred veil. Sanji thanks whatever deities are listening—for surely the vision above him is divine in source as well as appearance—for every person before him who fumbled their chance at the privilege that is now his. Hell if he knows what a rejected-princeling-turned-pirate-cook could possibly offer that is worthy of a goddess like this; but he would devote himself to her, be her high priest, beg her to take him as her throne—anything for the heaven in her embrace, if she would only let him.

We don’t waste food.

The reminder nudges Sanji out of his angst, and he grins. “Let’s have those snacks, then, before we get carried away and fill up on something else.”

He gives Amy one more kiss on her lips, chaste yet searing, and lets her go.

The absence of his hand on her waist feels like a loss, until she sits back to reach for the grapes and feels something pressing below her tailbone. She exchanges a knowing smile with the man pinned beneath her, handsome as a demigod.

“You know, if we share those snacks, they’ll be gone faster,” he muses, before dropping his voice even lower. “Then you and I can have our ways with each other.”

“Someone’s eager.” Amy winks and picks up a piece of bruschetta.

“Eager to please you, eager to serve you, eager to feel you in the throes of bliss—yes, I am eager, and you deserve an eager lover, Amy.”

Amy looks stunned. Sanji gestures to the bread slice in her hand.

“Mind telling me how that bruschetta tastes?” he asks. “I used a different combination of cheese and seasoning since we couldn’t find any mozzarella in the last port.”

You deserve an eager lover.

Amy knows this to be true, knows that a lack of sex is better than mediocre sex; but knowing is one thing, and hearing a would-be lover echo the sentiment is another. Not only that: Sanji says it with such conviction, as if pleading with her to believe it too. It's refreshing. Arousing.

So...maybe she leans forward a bit more than necessary when she brings a morsel to Sanji's waiting mouth, and delights in the way his noises of appreciation seem to be as much for the heft of her breasts as for the acidic tang of the diced tomatoes. Maybe she grinds her bottom on his clothed cock just a little when she reaches for another handful of grapes, and smiles with the knowledge that his moaning isn't only for the bursts of sweetness on his tongue. Maybe she is uncommonly thorough when licking the sticky tangerine juice off his fingers.

Entirely at your service.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

Swimming as their heads are with heady lust, it takes Sanji and Amy by surprise when they find the snack tray empty. They stare at it in silence for a long moment, before—

“Should I, uh—”

“That went more—”

“No, sorry, you go—”

“You go—”

Sanji sits up, laughing, and Amy kneels in front of him, head cocked to one side.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any condoms on you, or know whether Zoro keeps any up here?” Amy asks quietly.

“Hm? I think Mosshead keeps all his in his belt thing; Franky’s shooting blanks and exclusive with Miss Robin, so they don’t need any—”

“Wait, how does Franky know…”

“Apparently the Surgeon of Death also does vasectomies from time to time—wish I’d thought of that the last time we ran into them.”

“Damn. But do you have any?” Amy asks, leaning closer and poking him gently.

Sanji sighs deeply. “Don’t got any rubbers on me, but I keep some in the bunk room…”

“Hmmm, mais je ne peux plus attendre.” With her left hand on his right cheek, Amy pulls Sanji in for a lingering kiss. “J’ai besoin de toi maintenant.” [but I can't wait anymore; I need you now]

“Fuck, Amy,” Sanji groans between hungry, open-mouthed kisses, “how’m I supposed to resist you when you talk to me all sweet like that?” He slides a hand just above the waist of her sarong for emphasis, and cautiously slips a couple fingertips between fabric and skin.

Amy allows her fingernails to lightly scrape his skin as her free hand finds his spine; the hand already on his face threads through his hair. “You’re not supposed to resist me,” she murmurs into his jawline as she pulls his head back to expose his neck. “You’re supposed to forget about that snack tray, forget about our crewmates”—she places a cluster of kisses along his neck—“and enjoy some time alone with your lover—”

Your lover. The words send shivers coursing over Sanji’s skin.

“—just…enjoy yourself for a while.” She looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and allows one hand to drift down to his waistband.

“Well, when you put it like that—merde, ça me sens bien—let me at least put a towel down for us?” Sanji reluctantly extracts himself from Amy, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand when he catches a pout on her lovely face. [that feels good]

“Make it quick, mon amour…vraiment, j’ai besoin de toi…” [truly, I need you]

Sanji pulls a couple towels from a nearby rack, drapes the larger one so that it flows from the bottom step onto the floor, and sets the smaller one beside it. Approaching Amy, he holds a hand out to her with the air of a gentleman at a ball asking a lady to dance. She takes it and pulls herself up to stand in front of him.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she asks with an adoring smile.

Sanji cups her face in both of his hands and looks her in the eyes. “We can stop at any time and it won’t cause problems between us, y’know that, right? I want this to be enjoyable for both of us.”

Amy lets her eyes flick down to Sanji’s parted lips before meeting his gaze. “What would really be enjoyable right now is you kissing me…”

“So needy,” he teases, but obliges Amy anyway.

“‘Needy’? The love cook calls me ‘needy’?” she replies with mock outrage. “You’re the one who tricked me into straddling you and got so horny over a simple pet name that you reverted to Celestial!”

Sanji gives her a mischievous smile and another peck. “You stepped into the trap very willingly, though, didn’t you?” Another kiss, lingering a moment, and he adds: “And I know for a fact you loved it when I switched languages.”

“Quoi d’autre peux-tu faire avec ta langue, hmm?” Amy whispers against Sanji’s lips. [What else can you do with your tongue]

“S’il te plaît, chérie,” he whispers in kind, his fingers dancing lightly along one arm as he lifts it to his shoulder, “je peux te démontrer…” [If it please you, I can demonstrate]

Suddenly he bends down, and with a grunt he lifts Amy by her thighs, one on either side of his waist. He sets her down on the towel.

No sooner does Sanji let go of her legs than Amy is on him, gripping his face with both hands and kissing him voraciously.

“That’s so—ungh—so fucking hot, Sanji,” she moans. “Fuck, you’re strong.”

“You’re not that heavy, are you?” Sanji manages to say between kisses—not that he’s complaining. “Ten stone, twelve?”

“Fourteen last I checked,” Amy murmurs into his chin. “You’re so good at what you do, I’m always hungry for more.”

Sanji chuckles at her double entendre. “Fourteen’s nothin’, long as I let my legs do the work.”

“Definitely the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.” Amy sucks lightly at the base of Sanji’s neck, and almost erases his train of thought completely.

“Merde—since your own, of course, right?” He places his hands on her knees and ever-so-slowly moves them upward.

“Mmm, naturally,” Amy murmurs, more interested in Sanji’s collarbone.

“Are you even listening right now?” Sanji asks, grinning with amusement as he pulls away. He laughs when Amy makes a whining noise and chases him with her lips.

“Your tongue is doing way too much talking, lover boy. Starting to think maybe you’re all talk.”

Sanji narrows his eyes.

Before Amy has time even to discern anything from his smile, Sanji’s gripping the back of her head in one hand and nudging her mouth open with his tongue. His other hand slides higher along her thighs, tantalizingly close to where she suddenly realizes she needs his touch the most. She moans into Sanji’s hungry mouth, the noise sounding more like a whimper than she would have liked to admit were she clear-minded; but her senses are consumed with him, and she can’t bring herself to care. His appreciative groans are like held notes on a saxophone; he smells of musky cologne and sweat in a way that registers as the essence of virility in the back of her mind; he electrifies her skin with the slightest contact; she can taste fruit and spice on his tongue, and—

“Sanj, there’s something metal in your mouth, is that a piercing or…?”

Amy leans back to peer into Sanji’s grinning mouth, and sure enough, the frenulum is pierced with a horseshoe bar.

She puts her arms around his neck and pulls him close again. “You know, I’d heard you described as having a silver tongue,” she teases, her lips a hair’s breadth from his, “but I didn’t think Nami and Usopp were being serious.”

Sanji kisses her again, delicate and sweet like a meringue. “It’s surgical steel, love, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He chuckles and Amy rolls her eyes fondly.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your talent show?” she suggests.

“A show, hmm? I’ve never tried exhibitionism, but we can talk kinks later, sure.”

“You know what I meant!” Amy laughs, giving Sanji’s shoulder a playful backhand.

“Oh, yes, that’s right: the talent show in which I”—Sanji places one more kiss on Amy’s smiling mouth—“pleasure this lovely lady”—he whispers before kissing behind her ear and sliding his hands to the laces of her top—“with my tongue until she”—loosens the knot holding the halter-neck in place and nips an exposed shoulder, prompting her to buck against him—“begs me to make her cum on my face.” He presses his face into her cleavage, and looks up to gauge her expression. “That one?”

Amy combs a hand through Sanji’s corn-silk hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and gasps with something like awe marbled with need. His lust-darkened eyes peering up at her from between her breasts might be the most erotic thing she’s ever seen.

Entirely at your service.

You deserve an eager lover.

“Oh, Sanji…” she sighs and leans back against the bench. “Please, yes, I need it…

“…do I get to serve you after?”

The question is so airy and quiet that Sanji almost doesn’t catch it, occupied as he is with the scent of Amy’s perfume and the solemn task of unbuttoning her from the other side. “What’s that, darling?”

Amy holds his face between her hands and pets his flushed cheeks with her thumbs. “Do I get to return the favor once you’ve made good on those wonderful things you said you want to do to me?”

“You may not need to. I’m pretty, ah, worked up right now—might be that I’ll follow you over the edge when you cum for me.” Sanji kisses her palm and, taking hold of her hand, guides it along the faint trail of hair leading to where he needs her touch the most.

Amy wants to press the question further, but contents herself with pressing her hand to the bulge in Sanji’s shorts. She gasps in wonder at his size and the needy cry that pours from his lips.

“Let’s find out for sure, shall we?” She turns her back to Sanji and lifts her hair out of the way.

Seating himself on the bench beside Amy, Sanji can reach the buttons just fine, but he welcomes the chance to lavish her neck with a flurry of kisses. He smiles against her skin at her giggling, and thinks of how quickly the sound is becoming one of his favorites.

Amy’s breath, already shaking, hitches when she feels her top come loose, and again when Sanji sucks lightly on the skin joining her neck to her shoulders.

“Sanji, please…”

“Shhh, darling, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs as his hands snake over the bare skin of her waist to cover hers in the front. “Your body is so soft, so beautiful. I love it.

“Can…can I just…feel it for a moment first? Explore it, admire it for a bit before I ravish you?” Sanji continues, tracing with his fingers the places that had previously been covered.

“Just as long as your body stays on mine.” Amy sighs dreamily and leans against him, eyes closed, happy to let him fill her senses once again.

There has, historically, been precious little in Sanji’s life that could be described as soft or tender. Such is a hard-working life at sea, to say nothing of what came before his stint on the Orbit; even on such a well-appointed ship as the Thousand Sunny, piracy is piracy, and the oceans swallow the weak. So when something comes Sanji’s way that could be construed as even the vaguest promise of devotion, he has learned to seize it, to enjoy it while he can, before the Blue Mother’s waves inevitably carry it out of reach.

He does not seize Amy, for she is not a pipe dream or a fantasy: she is substantial, in multiple senses of the word, generous in the warm plushness of her body and likewise in the beauty of her soul. He paces himself, like a man who has known starvation followed by plenty; though he does have to take a steadying breath when she sets aside the bralette and turns toward him, now bare-chested. One hand goes to her heartbeat, one to her shoulder, trailing downward and leaving a tingling heat in its wake.

“I want to figure you out, chérie, before I take you apart,” Sanji rasps in Amy’s ear as he engages his haki.

Amy has a hunch she’s in for some of the best sex of her life. Not that she has a great deal of first-hand experience for the love cook to exceed—men did not often stay in her life long enough for attraction to develop—but even if Sanji is as much of a serial womanizer as Nami and Zoro make him out to be, he has already proven attentive and empathetic enough to be above average. It’s not his skill she’s worried about—

The casual flick of a thumb across a now-stiffened nipple jolts Amy back into the moment with a squeal.

“Fuck, Sanji, that feels so good, do it again…”

He obliges, of course he does, and pleasure like an electric shock goes straight to her cunt, suddenly flooded with slick. She arches her back, leaning forward into his touch; and he must have heard the needy impatience in her wordless moan, because he pulls her flush with him and nibbles her ear.

“Où d’autre, where else do you need me?” Sanji murmurs. “J’ai besoin de te plaîre…” [Where else; I need to please you]

Where doesn’t she need him? Amy wonders. “Everywhere, babe, jus’—fuck—everywhere. My neck, my hands, my tits, need you inside, everywhere.”

Sanji’s face lights up like he’s received the best news of his life, and he kisses her again.

“As my lady commands.”

As he nibbles at her ear and her neck, Amy can’t resist rolling her hips against him, flush as she is with his hardened abdomen and his cock, and spirits it feels so good—

“Amy, my love,” Sanji pleads, “I don’t want to cum yet, let me do this for you—”

“But Sanji…”

“Amy. Don’t you want me to keep my promise to you?”

He stands and pulls her up as well, and continues: “Don’t you want to find out what my tongue can do? I should think you wouldn’t want the talent show to end so early.”

“Your fingers untying my skirt are giving me a mixed signal,” Amy mutters, though her fingers digging out the knots belie the annoyance in her words.

“I’m going to have you lay back for me, darling,” Sanji says as he folds the sarong, “and I want to have a cushion for your beautiful head.” He holds the garment out to her, and he’s looking at her with such tenderness that she feels something clench in her chest. “Your comfort matters to me.”

“And you feeling good matters to me.”

“Tell you what,” Sanji offers as his hands push gently on Amy’s hips, encouraging her to sit. “I get to taste every part of you, and you get to shower me in praise and ‘good boys’ to your heart’s content. How does that sound?”

“And then I get to play with your cock?” she asks, pouting slightly but positioning herself on the towel nevertheless.

Sanji makes a choked gasp. “Merde, yes, then you can play with my cock.”

“Sounds good to me.” Amy leans back and watches as he hems her in, elbows on either side of her shoulders, powerful legs astride her own.

Sanji takes a deep breath and considers what he learns from his haki. Amy shudders almost imperceptibly with each heaving breath; her eyes, wide and dark, dart between his eyes, his lips, his chest, and occasionally his groin. Her back is arched just enough to not have the steps’ wooden lip pressing into her, or perhaps she means to draw his attention back to her sizeable breasts; and her knees are turned outward, as though readying her legs to cage his lower torso close to her own. She smells of jasmine, sweat, and the spiced tang of arousal, so much arousal.

He can’t wait to taste her. With no dissonance of thought or feeling in her aura to give him pause, the tasting begins.

He starts, quite naturally, with her mouth: lips that capture his sight whenever she has occasion to wear lipstick, staining his fantasies a pomegranate red; gasps and moans that spill from her like an overturned glass of sparkling wine; the lingering taste of sweet words and peppery olive oil on a tongue seeking out its counterpart to pull him closer. When the cruel need for oxygen forces them to pull apart, Sanji and his own clever tongue find the sensitive spot just behind Amy’s ear that he knows will make her nerves sing—

“SANJI, oh gods!” she cries, sure enough—

“Amy, chérie, would you be very offended if I were to leave a souvenir on your skin?” Sanji asks in a husky voice while he has her ear. “A mark of my passion, so to speak?”

Amy does not answer right away and her frenzied groping stills, but her embrace remains steady, which soothes his unease. She’s considering it, Sanji reminds himself.

Finally, she caresses his cheek, and he takes the chance to kiss her inner wrist. “Put them in places that can be covered with ease,” she replies decisively. “Whatever…this is”—for the first time since he found her in the crow’s nest Sanji hears a note of apprehension in her voice—“it’s our treasure, and I’d like to enjoy it that way for a bit before making it known to anyone else.

“We may be Straw Hats, but we are still pirates,” Amy continues with a smile returning to her face. “I think we’re allowed to be a little cagey about our hidden treasure.”

Whatever this is. Our hidden treasure. When he looks back on this afternoon, with Amy’s words hanging in the air between them, this won’t be the moment Sanji falls in love, much less when he recognizes his heart as belonging entirely to her; but something does shift in him, a moment he will later describe as Amy beginning to take root in his soul.

In the meantime, Sanji’s cock is twitching at the prospect of marking this woman as his, and again with the thrill of keeping a secret. “Such an angel,” he groans into her neck, “such a privilege just to touch you.”

Such a dangerous business, this whole falling-in-love thing, Amy thinks to herself. No, she’s not in love, not with one of the most notorious flirts on the Grand Line, even if he does look like he belongs on a magazine cover instead of a pirate vessel. Even if she isn’t merely imagining the heartbroken look on his face at the words ‘whatever this is’. Even if he is the most caring lover she’s ever had—because that’s just the thing: he does love generously, he loves in defiance of the sire he left behind, he loves and he loves and it would be selfish of her to want some part of it to be hers alone, wouldn’t it? No, she’s not in love with Sanji, but the cliff’s edge is right there, and the call of the void is strong.

“Chérie, have I lost you again? Is everything alright?”

Sanji’s handsome, smiling face is hovering above her chest again. Amy runs her fingers through his hair—he closes his eyes and hums at the sensation—and tucks it behind his ear.

“I was just…distracted by your beauty.” She smiles and winks.

“Using my own lines on me, are you?” Sanji growls in mock annoyance.

“What?! I’m just learning from the best.”

“Flatterer.”

“Clearly flattery works, or else you wouldn’t be straddling a mostly-naked woman right now.” Amy begins to drag one foot along Sanji’s leg for emphasis.

In lieu of an answer, he shudders and trails a finger along the side of one breast, which he lifts toward his mouth. While Amy lets her head fall back against the improvised cushion, he mouths at one pebbled areola with relish and strokes the other with a firm thumb, basking in her babbled praises over the next several minutes.

“That feels so, so good, darling, so good…

“Gods, your tongue is incredible—yes, just like that!”

“Oh, fuck—could let you do just this to me for hours…”

…and Sanji thinks, feeling the way she bucks and tenses under his caresses, he’d be willing to do it, too, his own erection be damned, if he didn’t think muscle cramps on his part would put a damper on her pleasure. If nothing else happens between him and Amy, he could at least go for months touching himself just to this memory.

Mercifully, the sound of a soft chuckle interrupts Sanji’s anxious thoughts before they have a chance to spiral. He leaves off the sucking motion of his tongue and looks into Amy’s half-lidded eyes. “Chérie?” he inquires tentatively.

She again combs his hair back with her fingers, still smiling. “It just struck me as funny, the way you looked like a boy licking his first ice cream cone of the summer.”

Sanji stares a moment before spluttering with indignation. “And what is a man supposed to look like as he is worshiping at his lady’s breasts?”

Unfortunately, this serves only to make the lady in question laugh harder, albeit with fondness, and touch her forehead to his.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It felt so good, but when I opened my eyes, there you were, swirling your tongue like you were afraid of letting your mint chocolate chip melt—”

“Melt?!” Sanji echoes, still playfully indignant. “Oh, I’ll make you melt—”

—to which end he pushes Amy back down and renews his ministrations with a vengeance, licking and sucking and nipping the sensitive buds, and tickling her sides. His hands slide lower and lower along her hips until he’s teasing the skin just above her panties; and when she makes no move to bat his hand away, he dips two fingers into the heat of her folds.

Amy never knew sex could be so fun.

Well, no, that’s not quite true; she’s long known, in an intellectual sort of way, that feeling safe and relaxed emotionally is conducive to both having fun and to having good sex. But the wisdom gleaned from others feels like an understatement compared to the euphoria and the anticipation suffusing her right now.

“You—” she pants, smiling, “you’re as good as your word, ah-aren’t you?”

Sanji releases a reddened nipple with a lewd smack. “And you, love, have been melting for a while already, haven’t you?” He runs a finger along her slit, grinning wickedly at her wetness.

“Oh fuck, Sanji, keep—keep doing that…”

“Tell me, Amy, is all of this for me?” Sanji all but purrs. Her pussy clenches at the sight of him licking her slick off of his hand and she whimpers.

A whimper is not enough for him: his fingers tease her clit, dancing around but never touching it. He flicks a nipple with his tongue. “I need words, ma chère…” he says.

Amy does not have words, though. There is nothing in Amy’s world save her body, and Sanji’s touch, and pure sensation.

“Answer me,” Sanji insists in a rumbled voice; and when he hears no answer but more wordless whimpering, he bites on Amy’s nipple and strokes her clit at the same time.

“Fuck! SANJI!” she screams, mustering the last two words in her brain as her world turns from pure sensation to white-hot ecstasy.

Likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated, especially if somehow I fucked up post formatting or my French grammar LOL

#one piece #one piece live action #black leg sanji #one piece fanfiction #one piece oc #sanji smut #sanji x oc #oc x canon #one piece smut #my fictional husband #my ocs #my fanfiction #oc: Amy Lajoie

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gglitch1dd · 25 days

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Submitted by @lemon-qu33n : Hi sorry to bother u i was just wondering if u had any fic recommendations. Ive read most of yours and i love them! I was just wondering what some of your favorite fics are?

Hey lovey!! You're not bothering me at all. TBH, I swear people maybe its you, have been asking me.

The reason why I haven't been answering is mostly because I really don't have many fic recs OR many favourites. There aren't a lot of writers that cater to my breeding kink or they aren't for the pairings that I like. I did have a few small favourites but most of them are discontinued and a lot of the bigger finished ones, sometimes I don't finish them.

I don't finish them either because the second hand embarrassment gets too big in one scene so I put it down, but I've got a few.

My number one recommendation is the most twisted story I have ever read and I love it so much. It isn't finished but the writing is exquisite and I one day wish to write a yandere/dark fic just like this. Its so disturbing and literally fear inducing, you literally feel like the reader. I love it. Hope it gets finished soon. I'm not a big fan of Katsuki but this one was delicious.

Love of a Hero by TrashPotatoes

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

being a new villain was horrible. Your team left you, and Pro hero Dynamight is hot on your trail. The only questions echoing in your mind are: What does he want? How long does he plan to keep you? And how long do you have before you break completely to his will?

2. This one was amazingly written as well. Kudos to the author!! It's a one-shot though, but honestly, it was a stroke of genius and hopefully it gets a second part to it.

What Once was Mine by Mindninjax

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader x Kirishima Eijiro

Invaders from outer space seek to take over all humans. What happens when you come face to face with the man you love after his assimilation? What happens when he finds out you've been hiding out from the invaders with his best friend who's madly in love with you? And what happens when you realize you may just have feelings for both of them?

3. This one is just pure smut heaven. Indulges the fact that Eijiro is the most HUNG person in the entire of Class A and I love it.

Bad dragon by Makoodles

Kirishima Eijiro x Reader (later chapters include Bakugou Katsuki)

Kirishima Eijirou was a perfect gentleman. He bought you flowers, he opened doors for you, he gave the sweetest goodnight kisses, he ate you out so good he had you seeing stars. You had the biggest, fattest crush on him, and you would be embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the fact that it seemed, at least for the most part, to be reciprocated. The problem was Kirishima never let you touch him.

4. This one was just really cute. I loved it. It was so sweet. fluffy and sweet.

Paws for Panic by Hero234

Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

When chaos strikes and quirks collide, one innocent collision turns pro hero Red Riot into an adorable red puppy! Little does (Y/n) know, that the newly turned pup is none other than her favorite hero, and he understands more than he lets on. Unaware of the puppy's true identity, (Y/n) spends the day pampering her fluffy victim.

5. Fans of Viking Kirishima will love this one. It was amazing and honestly touched my heart in all the right ways, sweet fluffy smut.

Consummation by tothestars00

Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

You and Kirishima have an arranged marriage, however, it is not a loveless one. Now it is the night after the ceremony. And we all know what happens on your wedding night.

6. Another self indulgent on my man Kirishima and why he's every woman's best dream. INTENSE SMUT THO.

XXL by seraphiq

Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

A giant dragon hybrid walks into your adult toy store looking for some help with a problem. A HUGE one.

But those are just like half of my few. Remember I write because sometimes I don't find what I want to read. But people write amazing things!! Pros to these writers!!<3

#submission #glitch recommendation #glitch1d questions #mha fic #mha fic recs

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munson-blurbs · 9 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Summary: You and Eddie finally get some much-needed alone time, and a confrontation at the Hawkins Preschool talent show tests your commitment to each other.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), protected p in v, fingering, oral (m! receiving), lil bit of edging, broken condom, breeding kink, mentions of Eddie's past, bullying, fighting, Jason Carver's mere existence, mostly fluff and smut before the angst of the next two chapters

WC: 9.2k

Chapter 15/20

Divider credit to @saradika Cutie pie Eddie pic credit to @/sunceddie

You wake up to an alarm set a full hour later than it typically is on a Friday morning, and the extra rest has you walking on air. Or maybe this newfound floatiness comes from knowing Eddie will be arriving soon, the two of you playing hooky from work to spend the day together. Your insides ignite with a rebellious fire, like you’re skipping class to smoke cigarettes underneath the bleachers, rather than taking a paid sick day that you’ve rightfully accrued.

Sunlight streams through the window, just a bit brighter than the usual smears of pink and orange that you normally see when you awaken. And while you still have to drag your yet-to-be-caffeinated body out of bed, the walk to the bathroom seems slightly less daunting.

You can’t let Eddie in fast enough when the intercom buzzes thirty minutes later. You were never naïve to the fact that dating a parent would mean having less privacy; what you didn’t know was how strongly you’d crave him.

Your hands are all over him the moment he steps through the door, simultaneously too much and not enough. Fingers lazily drape across the nape of his neck, and you can feel that his hair is already frizzy from the early April rain. Your breath hitches when you catch a glimpse of the burgeoning outline along the seam of his gray sweatpants.

His lips find yours easily, aiming to meet in the middle, but you press on your toes and bring your core to his. Your pajama top is thin; not sheer, but flimsy enough that he can feel the way you react to the chill of his leather jacket.

“Hello to you, too,” he murmurs with a laugh, muffled by a kiss that catches him off-guard. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab breakfast first, but—”

You shake your head, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the bedroom. “Sex first, food later.”

“Yes ma’am.” He uses his free hand to apply a quick smack to your ass, mesmerized at the way the supple flesh ripples underneath the flannel pants. Jesus, you’ve got him half-hard and you’re still in your pajamas.

He sits on the side of the bed, and you climb to straddle him, your inner thighs nudging his outer. “Been thinking about you,” you say, tugging his earlobe between your teeth.

Eddie pulls you even closer, one hand snaking up your shirt to cup your breast. He’s still cold from the rain and early morning frost, and his touch has your nipple pebbling. “What about me?”

“Well,” you trill, starting to slowly grind against the tented fabric of his pants. He exhales, a shiver of anticipation coursing through his veins. “I believe I promised my rockstar a reward for his amazing gig.” Your thoughts flit back to the night of Will’s party, when you’d snuck backstage and gotten a glimpse of him, his body pulsating with nerves that had almost immediately quelled at your touch. Another sensation had swept over him then, but that was an entirely different type of flutter.

Eddie nudges his nose against yours, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Your rockstar?” He adores the phrasing. Yours. Belonging to you. And you belong to him; he won’t ever allow you to forget it. “What kind of reward did my favorite groupie have in mind?”

You slide off of him, giggling at the pout he gives you as your body loses contact with his. “Patience, Rockstar,” you warn him, though it’s difficult to contain yourself when you’re salivating just being eye-level with his erection. Your fingers dig into his waistband, and for the second time today, you’re glad for his choice of clothing. You don’t think you could handle buttons and zippers and belt buckles. Not today.

He hisses when your palm brushes along his hardened length, stiffening even while covered by his boxer briefs. A small wet patch marks his tip, leaking precum, and you press a chaste kiss to it. Almost instantly, you feel the tendrils of his thigh hair against your bare arms as his legs reflexively snap shut like a Venus flytrap catching its prey.

“Too much?” you mumble against his happy trail. While you relish in the thought of overstimulating him, you want to keep him on edge as long as you can.

Eddie shakes his head, curls scratching against his shoulders. “Jus’ wasn’t expecting it. ‘Cause you were using your hands, but then I felt your…never mind, I’m gonna shut up now.” He settles back into the mattress and eagerly awaits your next move.

You don’t make him wait long, lips drawn to his shaft with a magnetic force. You only stop to shimmy his underwear down his legs, tossing them to the corner of the room. His cock is flush against his tummy; you catch yourself staring at the dusting of wispy curls that trail from his upper groin down to his heavy sack.

Your dominant hand wraps around the base while the other leans on his thigh for balance. You lean in and spit, letting your saliva dribble down his length before flattening your tongue to lick up the pearly bead forming at the tip. Eddie’s abdominal muscles contract and his fists clench, never taking his eyes off of the beautiful woman on her knees for him.

He lets out a soft moan as you hollow out your cheeks to take more of him into your mouth. A string of syllables that barely resemble words escapes him. “Mmm, yes, oh, sh–fucking hell–thas’ it…” He twists the bedsheets between his fingers, inhaling sharply as your tongue glides up and down his cock. “S’pretty, fuck, gorgeous girl.” He watches intently, staving off blinks so he doesn’t miss a moment of him disappearing between your lips.

He’d once thought that he could never want more than sloppy post-gig hook-ups in dive bar bathrooms with girls whose names he’d never learned, though he wouldn’t have made an effort to remember them anyway. Girls who had only offered their mouths so they could lay claim to his body; the opportunity to brag that they’d blown Eddie Munson before he got famous.

That was before you, before you’d shown him the intoxicating mixture of longing and belonging, of lust and…

You continue drawing him closer and closer to his orgasm, nose grazing his thatch of pubic hair. His hips buck slightly, but your mouth is so full of him that it threatens to evoke your gag reflex.

“Shit, ‘m sorry,” Eddie blurts out, unfurling a hand from the sheets to cup your cheek. He pulls out, allowing you to take a deep breath.

You shake your head. “I liked it,” you tease with a wicked grin, wasting no time assuming your previous position.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie throws his head back. “You like gagging on my dick? Fucking hell, babe.”

“Mhm.” The gentle vibration has him twitching, and you know he can’t last much longer. You bring your attention to his tip, sucking and giving soft kitten licks while your hand takes care of the rest of his length. He’s so painfully hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed that way long after finishing.

“Jus’…just like that. Oh, fuuuuuck,” he groans, silently calling upon every ounce of willpower in his body to keep his pelvis still so he doesn’t disturb the beautiful rhythm you’ve found. “Gonna cum…shit, baby, if you don’t want it in your mouth, you gotta stop now.”

But you do want it in your mouth, so you don’t stop, feeling warm ropes adorning your tongue just seconds later. He’s panting, chest heaving as though he was the one putting in the effort, but he still notices the way you swallow his thick load without missing a beat.

“Did you just…oh, my God. You’re perfect.” He throws his hands up in mock defeat. “I can’t…nothing I do will ever compare to you, I swear.” He motions for you to lay down next to him, and immediately climbs on top of you, the sweat from his chest transferring to your shirt. “Off,” he mumbles, pulling it over your head before you get the chance to do it yourself.

His lips swoop down to your left breast, tongue flickering over the nipple, and his dominant hand travels into your panties and expertly finds your clit. You let out a tiny whimper, barely audible over Eddie’s own grunts, finding pleasure in making you feel good.

“This body,” he mumbles, mouth still attached to your chest, “has me in a goddamn chokehold. It’s all I think about.” That isn’t quite true; he certainly spends plenty of time daydreaming of you, though it isn’t always in such compromising positions. Sometimes, you’re sleeping next to him in bed as he presses gentle kisses to the nape of your neck. Other times, he’ll be cooking dinner and picture you passing him the salt or handing him a serving spoon to dish out whatever noodle-based concoction he’s conjured up. Whatever he’s doing, he imagines you by his side.

“Can you kiss me?” Your request is timid but dripping with need.

Eddie nods, bringing himself to eye level with you and closing the gap between your faces. You taste of minty toothpaste and of him, and he curses himself for diving in headfirst without remembering to kiss you. “M sorry,” he apologizes for the second time that morning, and you forgive him with a soft bite to his lower lip.

Your arms rest on his shoulders and your legs wrap around his calf muscles, desperate to remain as close as possible at all times. No, you can’t stay like this forever, so you’ve got to make it count. “Need you inside me, Eddie.” Your voice nearly cracks, tears pricking at your lash line as the craving for him grows stronger. “Please.”

Eddie musters up a terse laugh. “Sweetheart, I just came, like, five minutes ago. You gotta give me a second to bounce back.” He lowers himself so he can whisper in your ear, “let me take care of you while we wait, hm?”

As soon as you nod, he’s yanking down your pajama pants and panties in one fluid motion. You can’t miss the way his eyes light up once you’re fully on display for him, taking in every centimeter of your body like his existence depends upon it. He starts to shimmy his way down, but your murmured “mm-mm” captures his attention.

“Still want you kissing me,” you say, gazing adoringly into his deep brown eyes. “Maybe you could just use your fingers?”

His instinct is to protest; he’s been desperate to taste you again ever since his tongue last touched the most intimate part of you, but he can’t deny you what you want. He’ll do just about anything to keep a smile on your face.

Without further hesitation, Eddie’s lips are on yours. He braces himself on his elbows as his hands cradle your cheeks. You can feel the heat of his cock, still spent and flaccid, against the top of your thigh. He shifts slightly so he can press one thick finger into your pussy, dragging in and out so deliciously that you barely notice his tongue slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss as you moan.

“Y’like that?” It’s a gratuitous question; he can feel how much you like it in the way you’re clenching around him. “Gonna make my girl feel s’good.”

“Call me your girl again,” you whine, punctuating the plea with a gentle buck of your hips.

Eddie grins, ducking his head where your neck meets your collarbone and sucking lightly. It takes every ounce of strength he possesses not to mark you. He studies the moisture left behind by his lips and wishes it was the exquisite shades of blue and indigo that form when someone’s been claimed.

He slides a second finger inside you. “My sweet girl,” he coos, just a hint of patronization laced within his deep voice, “you like being mine? Belonging to me?”

Your stomach flips at his words; a gnawing hunger for Eddie Munson. “Love it. I…I love being your girl.” You allow your mind to clear, absorbing his gaze, his touch, his skin. The graceful arch of your back beckons him to move faster, tongue peeking from between his plush lips as he concentrates on your orgasm.

Each stroke within you inches you closer to euphoria. Eddie’s thumb is pressed to your clit, cementing his determination to tip you over the edge. He hits all the right spots, committing them to memory; his own personal pathway to the heavens.

It’s your turn to grab onto the bed sheets like a lifeline as pleasure surges through you. Your lips coat his in a warm layer of “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” the praise a victory chant to him. He waits until your eyelids flutter back open and your breathing steadies before taking his fingers from your center and into his mouth, licking your release off of his skin like a delicacy.

Your body may be splayed out on the bed, but your mind is adrift; its only focus is the float down from the high Eddie’s brought you to. If it weren’t for the throbbing reminder pressed to your leg, you might float right into the atmosphere.

You summon the willpower to prop yourself up on your elbows, watching intently as he fists himself to temporarily ease the ache.

“Why’re you doing that when ‘m right here?” you mumble, wetting your lower lip with a swipe of your tongue. You can only hope that there’s some semblance of a smile in your intoxicated expression. “Unless you…prefer your hand?”

“Fuck, no,” he grumbles, curls dancing along his shoulder blades as he loosens his grasp to dig through your top drawer. He shoves aside stray prescription bottles and various knickknacks that you’ve been meaning to go through until he finds what he’s been looking for.

He snatches up the teal box and practically tears the cardboard in half trying to open it. The snake of foil packets tumbles out and he scrambles for them, but you’re faster.

Wordlessly, you rip off one packet and carefully tear off the top. Eddie hisses as you roll the condom down his hardened length, more than ready to be inside you.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, pressing your palms to his soft pecs. “‘S that okay?”

“Is that—baby, if I ever say no to that offer, there’s something seriously wrong with me,” he laughs, already laying back on the bed. His hair splays across the pillow, brown curls swirling atop the cotton pillowcase like Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

Eddie inhales sharply as you sit above him, sheathed cock pressed to your heat in anticipation. He reaches out and grabs your breasts, one in each hand, kneading them in his palms. His thumbs brush over your nipples, gauging your reaction before giving them a small pinch.

Your moan, coupled with the way you grind against him, confirms your satisfaction, but he still asks, “Y’like when I do that?”

You offer him a little smirk, cocking your brow as you cheekily reply, “You tell me.”

He doesn’t have time to respond before you lift yourself and gradually sink down onto him, soaking in every moment of the delectable stretch. Bracing yourself on his chest, you feel him bottom out so he’s filling you entirely.

“Fuck, Sweetheart.” His hands move from your chest to your hips as he helps you adjust to the newfound fullness. “So tight. Feels‘mazing.”

“Just wanna take care of you, Eds. You’re so good to me; I wanna be good to you.” You bounce up and down, moving your hips so no part of your walls remains untouched by him.

He’s mesmerized at the jiggle of your flesh as it connects with his, momentarily rendering him speechless before he regains some composure. “You are. You’re so, so good for me. Can never get enough of my girl.”

You clench around him at the title ‘my girl’, earning you a smack to your ass. The sting makes you whimper, and he swiftly delivers another.

“You’re gonna make me cum too soon,” he huffs, blown-out pupils drifting from your eyes to where your bodies are joined.

You pause your movements to lean down, allowing him impossibly deep within you. “If it’s too much,” you murmur into his ear, hoping your edge-teetering tremble is hidden enough to effectively tease him, “maybe I should just…stop.” You slide your hips forward until only his tip breaches your hole.

Eddie’s jaw drops in complete disbelief. “You…you can’t fuckin’ do that to me.” You expect him to push the rest of his cock inside you and thrust until he’s completely spent, so you’re caught off-guard when he pulls out entirely. “All fours. Now.” He emphasizes his request with another spank, this one harder than the rest.

You oblige, palms pressed into the mattress and toes curled as you await him. He taps his shaft against your bottom once, twice, three times, and then plunges into your warmth.

“Ah—fuck—Eddie!” you cry, feeling the telltale twitch that informs you he’s close. Really fucking close. And then another sensation—a soft pop.

He realizes what it is before you do. “Fuckin’ condom broke!” he grumbles, pulling out again—even more begrudgingly than before—and tossing the split rubber to the floor. He opens a new one and rolls it on with lightning speed, eager to be enveloped in you once again.

“Wish we didn’t have to use those,” you mumble, willing yourself to stay steady despite the push from his pistoning hips. “Be so much easier without them.”

Picturing you taking him raw—you wanting to take him raw—is the last straw. “Yeah? You wanna feel all of me, baby?” he growls, nearly inaudible over the sound of his pelvis colliding with your ass. “Want me blowing my load so fuckin’ deep inside you?”

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, feeling that delicate wave approaching the shoreline, desperate to crest. “That’s exactly what I want, Eddie.”

“Keep saying my name,” he orders, wrapping one arm around you so his middle finger lays on your clit. Every part he touches makes you weaker for him, scavenging for the relief of release.

“Eddie, feels s’good,” you moan, legs threatening to crumple beneath you. “No one makes me feel like this ‘cept you, fuck, Eddie!”

You finish around him, squeezing him until he’s spilling into the condom with a primal groan of your name. He stays draped over you for a beat before flopping back onto the bed.

“You are…” he turns to you and grins as he searches for the right word, “spectacular.” He gingerly removes the barrier from his dick, tying it in a knot and tossing it into the trash can next to your nightstand. “C’mere.”

You lay on his chest, the sweat cooling as it hits your cheek. “Did you work up an appetite?” you tease, kissing just below his tattoo of a demonic head, “I can grab us some cereal, or we might have some frozen Eggos I could throw in the toaster.”

Eddie smiles so wide it threatens to escape the confines of his cheeks. “Sex and breakfast? You spoil me, Sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well; we need energy to power us through round two.” You scoot upwards to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, the salt of his perspiration tangy on your lips. “Give me a few minutes, okay? Do you like syrup on your waffles?”

“And butter?” he asks with a hopeful smile, peering at you through long eyelashes that would have had you darting to Bradley’s Big Buy if you didn’t already have a stick of Land O’ Lakes in the fridge.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yes, Your Majesty,” you say, giving his bare thigh a small tap. “Would you also care for some freshly-squeezed orange juice? I can have the chef whip some up right away.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, slowly pushing himself up so he can help you in the kitchen. It dawns on him that he hasn’t felt this kind of peace after sex before; his mind has always been clouded with fears of getting too attached, of saying the wrong thing, of deluding someone into thinking he’s enough.

“God, I love you.” The words tumble out before he can stop them, and he freezes in place, one leg through his underwear. “Fuck, I mean–”

“It’s okay,” you rush to reassure him, noting the red tinge forming on the tips of his ears. “I’d say that to anyone who offered me breakfast foods, too.” You give him room to accept the out, to brush off his confession as a slip of the tongue. There’s no use in awarding merit to an accidental comment, regardless of what your skipped heartbeat tells you.

He considers it, every synapse and neuron firing at warpspeed. Maybe he could convince himself that it was an accident if it was the first time he’d felt this, the way your sunshine radiates through him and warms him from within. But that was far from the truth.

“No,” he finds himself saying, grasping onto every morsel of confidence he can find, “it’s not because of the food. I love you.”

Your voice catches in your throat. You want to believe that he’s reciprocating your feelings, but something nags at you. “Are you sure it’s not because we just had sex? Because sometimes that—”

“No,” Eddie repeats himself, unfolding the waistband of his boxer briefs and walking to you. “Because it wasn’t about sex when you calmed me down after the parent-teacher conference. It wasn’t about sex when you taught Harris how to read and bowl and be a better person than I’ll ever be. It wasn’t about sex when you cheered me on during our last gig, and it wasn’t about sex when I saw you holding Ettie.” He takes a deep breath and holds your hands as he gazes into your eyes. “And even after having sex, it isn’t about sex. It’s about you being the one for me. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips.

“I love you, too, Eddie.”

Just five words, six syllables, and he’s a goner. Seriousness melts into a sappy smile as he cradles your cheeks and presses the tip of his nose to yours. “Holy shit, we’re in love.”

You kiss him, tongue nudging his as your torsos meld together. If your stomach wasn’t gnawing for something to eat, you’d start round two right then and there.

Throwing on just a shirt and panties, you lead him into the kitchen before either of you can crawl back into bed. His hands never leave your body, snaking around your waist as you rifle through the freezer for the familiar yellow box. His head rests on your shoulder as you drop the waffles into the toaster and press the lever down.

“Eds?”

“Yes, my love?” he murmurs, pecking a soft kiss behind your ear. You both could have sworn that there was nothing better than him calling you ‘my girl,’ but you’re unashamed to stand corrected.

“Could you make yourself useful and grab some plates? Maybe get the syrup or butter?” you tease, noting the dramatic pout developing on his face. “What?”

“I’m keepin’ you warm,” he protests, sliding his hands over the cotton fabric of your faded t-shirt and grabbing your breasts. “And you’re not wearing a bra, so I gotta hold ‘em for you.”

He eventually obliges, setting two Chinette plates on the countertop and padding over to the refrigerator. He plucks the condiments from the side door and places them in the center of the table.

“Cups, too,” you remind him with a cheeky grin, pointing to a cabinet to your right. “No drinking out of the carton in my house.”

“Bossy this morning, aren’t we?”

The toaster chimes a charismatic ding! as the waffles jump out of their slots, and you carefully drop both onto one plate. “Here ya go,” you chirp, extending your arm so he can take his breakfast.

“Where’s yours?” His brows pinch together in confusion, a sly smile stretching his lips. “Don’t tell me I didn’t make you work up more of an appetite back there. Shit, shoulda had you ride me longer–”

Your hip collides with his in a purposeful shove. “I’m getting mine ready now. Go sit and eat, you horndog.”

Eddie drops the plate on the counter so quickly that the Eggos nearly fly off, pulling you from behind for a hug that squeezes all the air from your lungs. You squeal as he bites your neck and barks into it, solidifying that he has indeed earned the new nickname you’ve bestowed upon him.

He takes one of his waffles and places it on your empty plate. “We can eat together.”

You grab the orange juice from the fridge, giving the carton a shake before pouring the contents between the two glasses. It’s not until you sit down that you remember: “Oh, shit—utensils.” You start to get back up, but Eddie puts a hand out in a silent bid for you to stay seated, shuffling back to the kitchen. The drawer rattles as he pulls with just a bit too much strength, and he comes back with two knives and a single fork.

“You only got one—” you start, but he shakes his head.

“Don’t need it.” With that, he cuts off a hunk of butter and slathers it on top of his waffle, knife scraping against the little squares. He slathers every square inch in syrup, folds the waffle in half, and takes an exaggeratedly large bite.

“Eddie Munson!” you lightly chastise, still in shock at what you’ve witnessed. “Did you just eat that like a taco?”

“Sí, señorita.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Oh, my God, I’m in love with a barbarian.” You reach for the bottle of Aunt Jemima and drizzle the sticky-sweetness onto your waffle. “What else is going on with you?” you ask, cutting the food into strips and spearing it with your fork. “Work’s good?”

“Work’s great, actually.” He starts to bring the waffle to his mouth but pauses just before taking a bite. Syrup drops onto the plate with a plop. “I almost forgot to tell you! The regional manager asked me to go to this thrift market in Indianapolis in a few weeks—all on the company’s dime—and try to snag some vintage records.”

“Eds, that’s amazing!” You leap up from your chair and lean in to kiss his syrupy lips.

He licks a smudge of butter from the side of his thumb. “Oh, but that’s not even the best part,” Eddie grins triumphantly. “The market just so happens to fall during spring break, and I was hoping you could join us?” His bare foot nudges yours under the table. “That is, if you think you can survive an entire weekend running after Harris?”

Your jaw drops in mock-offense. “One of us chases after children–plural–every day. Besides,” you add, taking a swig of juice, “Harris isn’t the one I’m worried about.” You gesture at his partially-demolished breakfast. “At least when he eats like this, he has the excuse of being a child.”

His reply is a flick of his left middle finger, his right hand busy jamming the remaining waffle-taco into his mouth. “And yet,” he retorts with his mouth full, “you can’t seem to get enough.”

He’s got you there: all you’ve ever wanted is sitting in front of you now, the corners of his chocolate-brown eyes crinkling as he stands. You allow your eyes to roam his body; not with lust, but adoration. Love.

Your cheek yearns to be pressed to his chest, your hand resting where the soft pudge of his tummy barely rolls over the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs. Your legs crave the connection of intertwining with his. You need his arms, biceps strong from lugging around music equipment and holding his son, wrapped around your torso and keeping you impossibly close. Keeping you safe.

You want to spend hours asking about the stories behind the tattoos that adorn his chest, whether meaningful or the result of sheer boredom. You want to curl up on the sofa and put on a movie, absorbing none of it as you spend the entire duration lost in his lips.

The brush of his thumb against your knuckles stirs you from your roaming thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?”

Eddie sits up a bit straighter, hand never leaving yours. “Shoot.”

“Is it…” you fumble for the right words, “why are you like this now?”

“I’m sorry?” His brows knit together in obvious confusion. “Why am I like…what?”

“This,” you repeat, gesticulating at the man before you, warm and tender and completely unlike the stranger you’d hooked up with nearly eight months ago. “Why is the guy who once kicked me out of his apartment currently having breakfast with me half-naked and inviting me on a trip with his son?” Your tone is inquisitive, curious, and Eddie heaves a silent sigh of relief when he doesn’t detect a hint of judgment.

He doesn’t answer your question outright; instead, he poses his own: “Do you not believe that I love you?” He bites his lower lip, mind churning with the early memories you’d made together, the ones he wishes he could lock away and never remember.

Your heart lurches at your accidental implication. “I do! Shit, Eddie, I know you love me. And I love you, too.” You pause to lift his hand to your mouth, leaving the gentlest of kisses along his fuzzy knuckles. “I guess I just wanna know why you even let yourself love me. Why you didn’t stick to the Cat-and-Mouse. Why…why you chose me.”

He exhales, an incredulous huff of laughter passing through his lips. “You wanna know why I started only having one-night stands? Or why I stopped?”

“Both?” you try.

“So, um,” his eyes look everywhere but at you, “I never really got attention until I moved to Chicago and started playing with that band. All of a sudden, women wanna sleep with me, and I don’t have to, like, beg them.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “But they didn’t really want to fuck Eddie Munson; they just wanted to fuck the lead singer and guitarist of Hard Knox. Didn’t matter if it was me or some other random guy.

“One night, I’m…y’know…with this one girl, and I asked her to say my name.” His cheeks tinge red and he swallows hard. “And she looks at me with these wide eyes, and I realized she didn’t even fucking know it.”

“Did you know hers?” The question comes out before you can stop it, but you already know the answer.

He rubs his eyes with his whole palm. “After that, I realized that the only difference between the Eddie who got laid and the Eddie who didn’t was that no one I slept with really knew me. And if they ever figured out that I’m just this big ol’ nerd who spent high school playing Dungeons & Dragons, they’d…” He flexes his hands to make a poof! motion. “So I decided not to let them get to know me.”

“But then…”

“But then,” he acquiesces, “you show up at the bar, looking like a goddamn dream, and I put up that cocky lead singer persona on instinct. Because that’s the only version of me that women ever wanted to be with.” He sighs. “And then I let my guard down, ask you to spend the night, and I’m thinking, ‘I gotta get her outta here before she sees who I really am. Before she sees that I’m not a rockstar; I’m just a mediocre dad who sells weed to scrape by.’”

You move so quickly that you practically knock over your chair, standing behind him and wrapping your arms around the top of his chest. Your chin rests on his scalp, and he can feel the vibration in your throat as you murmur, “nothing about you is mediocre, Eddie Munson.”

He lays his head on your forearm, kissing it softly before lacing his fingers with yours. “Sometimes, I think I’m just buying time until you get sick of me.”

You shift your position so your lips can brush the side of his neck. “I didn’t fall for the guy on stage that night. I mean, yeah, you looked incredibly hot,” you tease and nip at his collarbone, “but I’m in love with Eddie Munson: the man who gets excited when his son reads a new word, who teases me for liking olives on my pizza, who knows the lyrics to every song ever made–including the ones he claims to hate.”

“Well, Eddie Munson–the real Eddie Munson–is so goddamn lucky to be loved by you.” He turns so he’s facing you, strong hands on your hips as he gazes up with starry eyes.

You cradle his cheeks, stooping down so your noses touch. “You deserve to be loved.”

“Yeah.” The word is more breath than sound. “Yeah, I think I’m finally starting to believe that.”

The remainder of your day is spent having copious amounts of sex; Eddie had insisted on ‘making up for lost time,’ taking breaks only for a quick lunch and a shower.

“Come with me to pick up Harris,” Eddie says as he wraps the bath towel around his waist. Water drips from the ends of his curls down to the dimples on his lower back. “We’re going to Jeff and Viv’s after so he can meet Baby Ettie.”

You raise your eyebrows in amusement, bending over to dry your legs. “I took a sick day today,” you remind him. “I can’t just show up there in your car, like, ‘nothing to see here!’”

“I’ll park far away,” he says with a shrug. “No biggie.” There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “I mean, I could tell Harris that Ms. Sweetheart was supposed to be with us, but she said no—”

You swat at his chest and he pulls back, feigning pain. “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

That’s how you ended up hunched over in the passenger seat of Eddie’s sedan, hiding from any passersby who could potentially recognize you. It only takes a few minutes before you hear the sound of Harris’s little voice, chewing his dad’s ear off about his day at school.

“...and then me an’ Charlie traded me snacks, an’ no one even sawed us!” He’s cackling like it’s the funniest joke. “He had my pretzels and I had his gummies, and it was so silly!”

“Gummies, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue, “well, that explains the sugar rush.” Their voices get louder as they approach the car. “By the way, Har Bear, I have a surprise for you.”

As he says it, Harris opens the back door and hops into the car, eyes widening when he sees you sitting up front. “Ms. Sweetheart!” he exclaims, bouncing into his booster seat with pure exhilaration. “What are you doing in Daddy’s car?”

“I figured I could see Baby Ettie with you guys,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, a stark contrast to the little boy practically vibrating from excitement, “if that’s okay with you.”

“Yes, yes, YES!” Harris shouts, his words aimed directly in Eddie’s ear as he tries buckling his son’s seatbelt.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he mutters, wincing as he massages the opening of his ear canal with his forefinger. “Take it down a notch, little man.” He fumbles with the belt until he hears the familiar click. He dons a deep voice to announce, “Keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times,” and Harris draws his limbs inwards with a giggle while Eddie closes his door.

“Daddy? Can we listen to music?”

“Mhm.” Eddie reaches for the radio dial, then stops. “Should we let Ms. Sweetheart choose the tape? Since she’s our special guest?” He shoots you a grin that sends a flip-flopping sensation behind your ribs.

Harris taps his finger to his chin in contemplation. “Hmm…okay! Can she pick Metallica?”

“Not quite sure that’s how it works…” Eddie scrunches up his face and scratches at his jawline.

You turn around to face the boy, whose curly hair is now identically frizzy to his father’s. “Actually, Metallica sounds great to me,” you say, adding a thumbs-up for good measure.

“Metallica it is!” Eddie pops in the cassette, the mechanical wheels whirring for a moment before Fight Fire with Fire blares through the speakers. He rests his palm on the back of your seat as he backs out of the spot, tongue poking from his lips in concentration.

Harris alternates between headbanging to the music and babbling about school throughout the drive to Jeff and Viv’s. His energy seems endless as he hops out of the car and races to their front door.

“Har, remember,” Eddie calls out, “we have to be calm and gentle around the baby. Don’t wanna scare her.”

Harris nods as Jeff opens the door. “Mini Munson!” He gives a tired smile, stifling a yawn. “Ready to meet your new cousin?” He chuckles when Harris jumps up and down and squeals. “I’ll take that as a yes. Go ‘head and sit on the couch, kiddo.”

Harris follows Jeff’s instructions, and you and Eddie trail close behind him. Jess and Robin are also there; the latter woman is currently holding Ettie, lightly rocking the newborn in her arms.

“Do you wanna hold her?” she asks Harris, who looks to you and his dad in a silent plea for permission.

“Up to you, Har,” Eddie says with an encouraging smile. “We’ll help you, if you want.”

Harris nods, shuffling so his back is pressed up against the sofa. He squirms anxiously, kicking his feet as he waits for you and his dad to join him.

Eddie sits on his right side, and you take the empty space to his left. “I’ll help you hold her head,” you promise him. “You can hold your arms out like this,” you demonstrate, resting your forearms on your lap with your palms facing the ceiling, and Harris mimics your actions. “There ya go.”

Robin carefully walks over and places Ettie in Harris’s outstretched arms, ensuring that you’re supporting the baby’s head before she fully lets go. For a few moments, Harris just stares at the little girl, seemingly unsure how to react. Finally, he softly murmurs, “she’s so little!”

“Sure is,” Eddie laughs, poking at one of her tiny toes in amazement. “Would you believe that you were even more little when you were a baby?” His grin deepens when Harris’s jaw drops in disbelief. “It’s true! You were the tiniest little thing I’ve ever seen.” As he says it, a lump forms in his throat, and he swallows it before anyone notices the catch in his voice. You don’t need to hear it, though, and you use your free hand to discreetly rub his back in silent reassurance.

Harris purses his lips as he stares at his new cousin, clearly unaffected by the anecdote. “Does she do any tricks?”

His question has the entire group stifling laughter, and Eddie turns pink with embarrassment as he quickly explains, “she’s not a dog, buddy. And she was only born a few weeks ago, so she pretty much just eats, sleeps, and poops.”

“Ew,” Harris’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the last activity, though you’re willing to bet a large sum of money that he’s made at least one poop-related joke today. “So when can I teach her how to play Legos?”

“Not for a while,” Viv admits with a kind chuckle, “but when she’s ready, I promise that we’ll let her big cousin Harris show her how it’s done.”

Her answer placates him, at least temporarily, and he cautiously brushes his forefinger against Ettie’s scalp, smoothing down her wisps of hair. You take the moment to glance over at Eddie, only to find him looking right at you.

Hi, he mouths, though there’s so much more he wishes to say. When Harris was Ettie’s age, Eddie was exhausted, overwhelmed, constantly on the brink of breaking down. He’d sworn to himself and anyone else who would listen that he’d never go through the newborn stage again, but he’s mesmerized by the sight of you and Harris cuddling a baby. He wants this, he wants this with you, sleepless nights and spit-up stained clothes no longer strong enough deterrents.

Hi, you mouth back, suppressing words that ache to spill from your lips. Your pulse quickens at the way Eddie watches his son, not with scrutiny, but with admiration and awe, as though he can’t believe he’d created such a wonderful little human. Teaching children never translated over to a desire for motherhood, but you can suddenly picture yourself helping Harris hold your baby, a baby that symbolizes the love between you and Eddie.

“They look like a little family.” Robin’s attempted whisper grabs your attention; a brief scan of the room shows that everyone else is looking at her, too. Her cheeks flush a deep red and she mutters, “sorry,” swooping in to scoop Ettie into her arms.

An awkward silence hangs in the air until Jess clears her throat. “How was work today?” she asks you, and though you don’t have an actual answer to the question, you’re grateful for the subject change.

“I took the day off,” you reply nonchalantly. “Wanted to catch up on rest, y’know…” You trail off, hoping your non-answer suffices.

“What about you, Ed?” Jeff tries.

“Oh, uh,” Eddie stammers, nervously running a hand through his hair, “I also took the day off.”

Jeff’s gaze flits between the two of you until he finally manages an elongated, “…cool.”

Luckily, Harris is oblivious to the adults’ conversation. “Uncle Jeff, are you coming to my talent show next week?”

“Talent show?” Jeff glances at Eddie with an amused smirk.

“Uh, yeah, ‘s this parent-kid thing at his school,” Eddie hurriedly explains, trying not to trip over his words. He’s still stuck on what he’s implied by admitting that he’d also called out of work. “I didn’t know how busy you’d be with Ettie—”

Viv smiles. “I think he can sneak out for an hour to see his favorite nephew.”

“Robs and I can help out here if you need,” Jess offers to her sister, “as long as Jeff brings the camcorder so we have video evidence of this performance.”

“Absolutely not.” Eddie shuts the idea down immediately, but his protest is drowned out by the sound of Harris cheering.

“Daddy and I are gonna—”

Eddie claps a ringed hand over his son’s mouth. “It’s a surprise.” He looks at you for a moment, bashfulness infiltrating his expression with a timid smile and downcast eyes, and you realize that the surprise is for you.

Harris wriggles out of Eddie’s grasp with a discontented sigh, sliding off the couch and onto thr floor. “I didn’t tell Ms. Sweetheart,” he protests, and Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose as he gathers any remaining patience.

Ettie puckers up her face and lets out a wail that seems far too big for her teeny body, but it serves as the perfect reason to leave. You hug everyone goodbye and give the cranky baby’s feet a gentle tickle before you head out the door. Harris gallops ahead, giving Eddie the opportunity to guide you with a soft press of his hand to the small of your back. Before he's fully outside, he leans in to Jeff, whispering “I told her,” ending the statement with a grin.

“My man!” Jeff grabs Eddie’s shoulder and gives it a small shake. “Let me know when to buy my tux for the wedding.”

“Jesus, you sound like Harris.”

Spending time at Hawkins Preschool outside of contracted work hours would normally be a scenario straight out of a nightmare. This afternoon; however, you’re here to see the most adorable little boy and his handsome dad perform some sort of mystery talent, which makes it all worthwhile.

The cafeteria has been transformed into an auditorium of sorts, with neat lines of metal folding chairs replacing the long tables that typically fill the space. An area at the front of the room has been sectioned off for the performances, and the entire place is abuzz with excitement about the adorableness that is about to ensue.

You spot Jeff and Wayne sitting in the third row from the back and you give them a little wave, bounding over to take the empty seat to Jeff’s left. The smile on your lips quickly transforms into a frown when you see him shake his head, placing his palm on the chair.

“I’m under strict orders to make sure you sit in the front row,” he says with a knowing smirk. He shoos you away, and you begrudgingly turn from their familiar faces, but not before catching a twinkle in Wayne’s eyes.

Soon after you find a seat close to the makeshift stage, Principal Sinclair steps up to the microphone.

“Welcome, friends and family, to our annual talent show fundraiser!” There’s a polite smattering of applause before she speaks again. “Our students—and their parents—have quite a show for you all. First up is Miss Abigail Carver and her mom, Chrissy, who will be performing a cheer routine!”

You clap as Abby and Chrissy step out, green and yellow pom-poms in hand. Your student recognizes you immediately, running over to give you a quick hug that elicits a resounding aww from the audience members. She rushes back to her spot as she and her mother cheer on the Hawkins Tigers in unison.

Next is another student of yours, Joshua Harrington. His dad hoists a Fisher Price basketball hoop and places it on the ground so the two of them can show off their “slam dunks.”

After a few more students from other classes, it’s finally the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“Please welcome Harris Munson and his dad, Eddie, who will be singing a song!”

No sooner do you call out, “Yay, Harris!” do you hear it:

“Freak.”

It’s low enough that no one else catches it; you probably wouldn’t have, either, if the culprit wasn’t sitting directly behind you. You turn around to see Jason Carver, camcorder by his side, poorly stifling a snicker.

Your hands clench, balled into fists, so tight that you feel your fingernails digging into your palms. It’s too tempting to smash his camera—no, smash his stupid face—but you inhale and then exhale for three seconds apiece. Today is about Harris and Eddie, and no overgrown bully is going to ruin that.

Still, you have to bite back a smile at the thought of Jason sporting a black eye, courtesy of the Freak’s girlfriend herself.

When Harris and Eddie take to the performance space, your anger evaporates and your heart becomes heavy with emotion. Harris is front and center, body slightly turned as he watches his dad get settled on a wooden stool and gives his acoustic guitar a tune. The boy dons a black suit that’s a size too big for him, his hands barely peeking out of the sleeves. He’s got on a tie that has to have been borrowed from an adult; you can’t imagine Eddie or Wayne wearing one, so maybe Jeff loaned it. The best part is the fedora that rests atop his messy mop of curls.

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart!” he says with a grin so wide it likely hurts his cheeks, letting out a shriek of delight when you wave. “This song is for you!”

Eddie murmurs a soft, “two, three, four,” and strums a melody that immediately has your eyes welling with tears.

“You make me feel so young,” Harris croons, mouth right up to the mic, “you make me feel so spring has sprung!”

To anyone else, it seems like a silly play on the fact that he is, in fact, young. You know it’s so much more.

“And every time I see you grin, I’m such a happy individual!”

He’s singing Frank Sinatra. He’s dressed as Frank Sinatra. And you know it had to be Eddie’s idea, considering Harris’s musical repertoire teeters between Raffi and Metallica.

He skips a few verses, and when he does, Eddie locks eyes with you and offers a tiny close-mouthed smile.

“And even when I’m old and gray I’m gonna feel the way I do today ‘Cause you make me feel so young!”

You choke down the sob that threatens to escape as they circle back to the chorus. The memory of Grandma’s final Thanksgiving, consisting of singing along to Fly Me to the Moon and sharing store-brand Oreos, soars around your mind. The way she had so easily slipped back into her old self, if only for a moment. The way Eddie had held you and kissed your scalp, protecting you from a force no one could see but everyone could feel.

“You make me feel so young You make me feel so young Ooh, you make me feel so young!”

The song ends and you leap to your feet, cheering just as loudly as you did the other night at the Hideout for Corroded Coffin. You swipe at a stray tear and force yourself to look at your boyfriend, so effortlessly beautiful in a black t-shirt and jeans.

Thank you, you mouth.

I love you, comes his silent reply.

You gaze into each other’s eyes for another beat before you feel a thud against your legs. Harris stands right before you, ignoring the way all of the other kids proceeded out the door after their performances.

“Are those happy tears?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern as he notices your stained cheeks. When you nod, still too overcome with emotion to speak aloud, his face splits into a grin. “Good.” His arms wrap around your waist in a hug that nearly has you toppling over, and you rest your hand on his upper back to steady yourself.

“Easy, Har Bear,” Eddie’s voice is strong but tender, and your entire body relaxes in his presence. You want to pull him in by his belt loops and kiss him, running your fingers through his curls until you’re both smiling too hard to continue. If only you weren’t at your place of work, if only all eyes weren’t on you, if only–

“Looks like the Freak’s got a crush.”

A smattering of the audience members laugh at this, no one more so than the instigator himself. You whirl around reflexively, eyes narrowing at the smug blonde man behind you. Eddie takes a small step forward, quietly telling Harris to go back with his friends as he zeroes in on his longtime nemesis.

He’s going to hit him, you realize, noting the subtle clench of his jaw and twitch of his flexing bicep. I have to stop him before he does something he regrets.

Eddie’s hand shoots out, grabbing Jason’s collar and pulling him in with a jolt. There’s a soft gasp from the crowd followed by silence as everyone waits for Eddie’s next move. You can hear the scraping of metal chairs on the ground as Wayne and Jeff scramble to mitigate the situation before it can escalate further.

To your surprise–and relief–Eddie doesn’t throw any punches; instead, he grits his teeth and hisses, low enough so only you and Jason can hear:

“Don’t ever talk about her again.”

He lets go with a small shove, and Jason stumbles back just as Principal Sinclair arrives to break it up. While time came to a screeching halt, the whole interaction spanned fewer than ten seconds.

Wayne and Jeff reach him first, guiding him out of the cafeteria. The older man keeps his eyes on his nephew, but Jeff shoots Jason a steely glare, insinuating that Jason had better heed Eddie’s warning if he wants to live to see his daughter go to kindergarten. You follow behind and attempt to keep your composure.

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie breathes as soon as the four of you are alone. “I shouldn’t have…I just fuckin’ hate that guy.” His eyes dance with anxiety, not sure whether to look at you, his friend, his uncle, or the ground.

You take his hands in yours, imploring him to focus on you as you reach up to brush his curls off of his face. “It’s okay–”

Eddie shakes his head. “I ruined everything. This was supposed to be about Harris, and about making you happy…” He takes a step back, rubbing his eyes with a low, exasperated, “fuck!”

“Baby–”

“I’m gonna get Harris,” Eddie starts to walk away, speaking to himself as though you hadn’t said a word, but he stops in his tracks when Wayne puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Listen to your girl,” he says simply, motioning for Jeff to come fetch Harris with him.

Eddie doesn’t dare protest, trudging back to face you. He’d fucked up royally, and he knew it. What was he thinking, putting his hands on Jason Carver in the middle of a goddamn preschool talent show?

“Eddie,” you take his hand in yours and give it a squeeze, “it’s okay. I’m not mad; I just wish he didn’t get under your skin like that.” You rub your thumb along his forefinger. “He’s not worth it, I promise.”

“I just…” Eddie mumbles, thoughts too scrambled to find the words he needs. He heaves a long sigh. “I shouldn’t have done it here.”

You can’t really argue with that; out of all of the places Eddie could fight Jason, your job wasn’t your favorite option.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You press onto your toes to whisper in his ear. “I almost did the same thing earlier today.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, nudging the toe of your shoe against his scuffed sneaker. “And I have a feeling most people in this town would agree with me.” The notion makes Eddie smile, and you continue. “Let me take you and Ol’ Brown Eyes out for ice cream to celebrate your amazing performance. Please?” You throw a puppy-dog look his way, though he needs little convincing.

Still, a nagging thought tugs at him that he has to resolve before can allow himself to relax. “There might be people there. People we know.” People like Jason Carver and Carol Perkins, he silently adds. “It’s okay if you don’t want to…we can just grab a half-gallon from Bradley’s and bring it home.”

You shake your head, effectively turning down his offer. “I’m taking my boyfriend and his adorable son to Scoops Ahoy, and the three of us are gonna split a fudge sundae,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Are you sure you’re okay with people knowing about us? Being branded ‘The Freak’s Girlfriend’? Hearing people gossip about whatever the Hawkins rumor mill has churned out?

The sensation of your lips on his tempers the overworked gear shifts in his brain. When you pull back, you’re smiling at him.

“Positive.”

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macfrog · 10 months

Text

state-of-the-art sex on fire chapter two

*chants* ceo joel ceo joel ceo joel

part 2 to you shook me all night long!!! massive credit to @whore-4-pedro again for the concept this is SO much fun. work trip coming soon babies!!! masterlist here, ao3 here 💓

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel’s had a rough week at work. you figure you know the perfect way to relieve some of his tension

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) more teasing and touching, oral (m receiving), getting handsy in public + fingering, unprotected semi-public piv sex, creampie, daddy kink, softdom!joel, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, workplace relationship

word count: 6.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

The stretch is too much; he’s all the way in down to his knuckles, curling and then uncurling his fingers deep inside you. Your hips are slowly circling by instinct, rutting against his hand as it fucks you, sending fluttery waves of pleasure all over your body. You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer. You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

The black mug. Not the one with the gold handle – that’s one of Martha’s. She doesn’t use it much – at least not as much as the one with her granddaughter’s face printed on it – but she once left you with a stack of paperwork to shred all by yourself just ‘cause you made yourself a tea in it.

No. Just plain black all over. No words, no pictures. Plain. Black.

Few spoonsful of coffee into the filter, hard granules sprinkling over the white paper. Close the lid, flick the switch, and then wait for it to brew. Once it’s done, fill the mug almost to the top – until the coffee kisses the bottom of that one chip in the ceramic. No sugar. No sweetener. No nothing.

Just plain black.

“Thanks, darlin’.” Joel takes the mug carefully from your hands as you wander over, then you perch yourself by his side on Martha’s desk. He takes a sip and nods like usual, confirming what you already know.

You make a damn good cup of coffee.

“You’re worth, what, a few hundred million? You can’t buy a better coffee machine?”

“’s wrong with that one?” he asks, mug on his bottom lip.

“Works like it’s from the eighties or something.”

Martha clears her throat behind you both. “I am gonna give you five seconds to explain what you mean by that.”

“I mean…it’s not exactly state-of-the-art, is it?”

Joel’s jaw drops dramatically. His head wobbles like it’s about to implode, hearing what you just said. “You hear that, Martha? We ain’t state-of-the-art anymore, you ‘n me. We’re older ‘n that coffee machine, you know.”

Martha’s shaking her head, clicking away at her computer.

Joel nudges your arm with a soft chuckle and you sigh, turning away to watch the four men in his office; stood an awkward distance apart, small talking, pacing, adjusting their suits. One of them is messing with some trinket on Joel’s bookshelf.

“You think they’re nervous?” you ask, and he laughs from behind you.

“I reckon they’ve a lot to be nervous about.”

“Was it that bad? On Monday?”

Joel had spent the better part of four hours locked in that conference room, right after you two – you know. He was late for lunch by the time he was ushering them out, collars loose, jackets slung over arms. It was probably a good thing you’d tired him out a little beforehand, or he’d have been way more unforgiving than he was.

Three departments in Joel’s company have gone over budget. It isn’t a huge deal. He has the money. Just, he wants the right people in charge of it, and right now…he clearly doesn’t have that. Honestly, you hate to admit it, but it makes sense. You’re kinda on Joel’s side.

He’d given them to the end of the week to come up with action plans, figure out how to undo the mess. This is the end of the week. This is supposed to be the big reveal.

Joel runs a hand through his hair, palm hooking around the back of his neck.

“Wasn’t great,” he mutters.

You knew that much. You’d asked what he wanted to eat as he passed your desk en route back to his office, and he’d waved his hand and told you to order whatever you wanted with his card. When his door closed, you glanced over to Martha, who shrugged, and went back to playing solitaire.

You figured he wasn’t down for more sex. He didn’t reappear until five o’clock, when he walked you down to the street, carrying your jacket for you, and helped you into your cab.

The elevator dings and the brass doors separate, revealing a figure behind.

George Mackley. Short. Stout. Obnoxiously bright red tie. Head of marketing.

He waddles in a hurry toward the three of you, nodding curtly to Joel as he passes. His shaking hand fumbles around the handle of the office door, which he pulls on instead of pushing, and gives an awkward chuckle before rushing inside.

“Fuckin’…finally,” Joel grunts, passing you his mug and standing up.

“Should I order my own lunch again?” you ask, looking up at the man stretching his arms out before you. Like he’s about to go in and punch sense into them all.

You’d probably love him to do that. It’d make for some great sex afterward.

“I’ll be takin’ a lunch break,” he replies, tapping your knee, “whether we’re done or not. Be out at one.”

You nod, and he stalks off to his office. His mug’s still warm in your lap. You’re still staring when he enters the room, watching how all five men immediately file into the couches across from his desk just at the sight of him. Watching how Joel’s lean figure sits back against his desk, his ankles crossed. His arms folded at his chest. His broad shoulders beneath that tight white shirt.

He has that way about him. Commanding, confident. Strong. It’s probably what convinced you to fold, if you’re honest. Sure, he’s kind, and he’s a good boss, all things considered. He’s funny. But he’s cool. It takes a lot to shake Joel.

This meeting? It’s not shaking him. He’s barely even giving these guys enough attention to sit up straight. He’s so damn breezy, so laidback that when he pushes off of his desk and stands up, you give a small gasp.

You lift his mug, drinking from the same spot his lips touched only minutes ago.

“Thought you hated black coffee,” Martha murmurs.

“Stress sipping,” you reply. “Fucking hell…”

Joel’s erratic. Waving his arms, pacing around the room. You swear the men cower as he approaches; shoulders hunched and heads low until he’s past them.

He looks…Yeah. Fuck it. He looks a little shaken.

Martha tuts. “Shouldn’t be idiots with his money.”

“He has money, though,” you offer. “Like, this ain’t that big a deal, is it? He can afford to go over budget sometimes.”

“Joel doesn’t like anyone messin’ with what’s his,” she tells you. “Doesn’t like other hands on his toys. It’s not the overspending he’s pissed about. It’s the crossin’ the line.”

Your eyebrow cocks. She can’t see your expression, and good thing, because it’d probably give you away. Doesn’t like other hands on his toys.

A flash of movement from Joel’s office drags your eyes from the dregs of his coffee back to the transparent wall between you. He’s whipping the shades closed one by one, putting a barrier between his office and the outside world.

It can’t mean anything good, right? It doesn’t look like they’re about to sit in a circle and braid each other’s hair. Sure as hell aren’t about to see Joel’s good side.

“I gotta go in,” you declare, lifting off of Martha’s desk like you’ve taken flight.

She calls your name, almost tired of your antics. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But you’re already scooping up a notepad, slipping it under your arm and fishing a pen from your desk. Already walking over to the office door, hearing the dangerous hum of Joel’s voice through the wood.

Your knuckles rap three times. You don’t wait to be called inside. Just push the handle down and slip in.

He’s stood against the frame of one of the windows, hands in his pockets. When you materialize from behind the door, his face relaxes. Brows loosen, jaw slackens. Lips almost tug into a smile.

“Sorry I’m late.” You sidle over to his desk and sit down in his chair, biting on your bottom lip, casting an unsure glance around the room.

Five pale faces turned to you. George Mackley looks like he’s about to weep.

Joel thanks you and then steps forward. “So, Ken, we were at last month’s sales.”

“Uh, yeah…” Ken draws his gaze from you when Joel moves in front of the desk. As he waltzes by, he spins slowly, giving you a look as he passes.

Kill me, he mouths, rolling his eyes. You smile, looking down at your blank notebook. You’re not here to take the fucking minutes. You know that, Joel knows that. You’re only here so he has something to keep him from losing it. Something to sit and look pretty, and calm him down.

Also: you kinda want the gossip. What the fuck did these guys do with all of Joel’s money, right?

Almost two hours in, a dozen games of tic-tac-toe against yourself, and one very crude drawing of Monday morning’s activities, Joel startles you by slamming a file down onto his glass coffee table.

“And you think that’s a solution?” he spits, voice laced with fury.

“Joel, you gotta see it from my side. I’m managing thirty people down there, it’s–”

“’n I’m managing five idiots from up here. Mackley,” he turns to the face as red as the tie below it, “you got anythin’ else for me?”

George Mackley shakes his head. His hair’s unkempt; it was gelled flat to his head when he arrived, but his hands have been through it more times than Joel’s lapped the office.

“Alright. Y’know what,” Joel seethes, backing up and motioning for them to stand, “everyone out. Meeting’s over. Go.”

“Joel–” A tall man with blue eyes stands up.

“If you ain’t about to offer me somethin’ that can fuckin’ fix this mess, then shut your mouth and get out of my office. All of you.”

The men sheepishly collect their briefcases, their documents, themselves, and stand, filing out of the door one by one. You rise from Joel’s chair, taking your notepad between your fingers, and slowly wander around the desk.

He’s standing with his head in his hands, shoulders swelling with his breathing. Does he want you to leave, too? You don’t want to rile him more; certainly don’t want to be the first face his angry self sees. But you want to make sure he’s okay. Want to check on him.

Plus, he’s kind of hot when he’s pissed.

You’re tottering toward the door when Joel drops his hands from his face, notices you, and says, plain as the coffee in his mug, “Not you.”

You turn back, pushing the door closed behind you.

“Didn’t mean to yell.”

You don’t reply. Your hand lifts to find the lock blindly behind your hip, and you click it. Now there’s nobody, no one to disturb you both. No one to walk in, no one to see.

You approach him.

He’s still talking: “Didn’t want you to have to hear all that. I spoil your morning?”

Your head shakes and you mutely take his hands, leading him around to his chair and pushing him back into it.

“Baby, what–”

You part his legs with your own, his fingers still interlocked with yours. Then you think he gets it. Understands where you’re going.

You sink to your knees between his thighs.

“They were bein’ idiots,” you say, fingers undoing his belt. “’n you didn’t spoil my mornin’. You gave me a little bit of excitement.”

Joel’s breath shudders as he watches you tug his belt through the loops of his pants and drop it to the floor. Still, he laughs, and asks, “Is that so?”

“N– Oh, fuck. Not like that. Like–” You pause, breathing out a sigh.

Yeah, okay. Like that, if you want. I’m down if you are.

His pants are open, lying loose on his hips. The waistband of his boxers visible. You hook two fingers over it and peel it down a fraction, following Joel’s happy trail as it grows thicker and darker, when he puts a hand over yours and breathes your name.

“Relax,” you mutter back, nudging his hand off of yours. “Just let me take care of you.”

His head falls against the back of his chair and his shoulders sink into the leather. You pull on the elastic and take hold of the base of his cock, already stiff, slipping it out from beneath the black cotton.

Joel’s knees fall slack when you take a hold of him. Two hands, because he’s so fucking big. Your fists pump him a few times, feeling him harden in your grasp, warm skin rock solid in your hands. You lean forward on your knees, thick bead of saliva falling from your lips onto his head, dribbling down his smooth shaft.

Joel’s watching through hooded lids. Caressing your hair, petting you. Your fingers collect your spit and drag it up and down him, and you swear he almost fucking whines.

Almost isn’t enough. You want to really hear him. So you slacken your jaw, part your lips, and slide them down, tongue flat against the underside of his length as he fills your mouth. Joel’s fist tightens, pulls harshly on your hair for just a second, until he’s breathing out again in relief, body relaxing to the feel of your wet tongue around his hard cock.

“Don’t need to – do this, babygirl.”

“Mhm,” you mumble around him.

“Fuck…” he whispers.

Your elbows are hooked over his thighs, holding yourself up in place between his legs. He tastes salty; skin warm, smooth. Your tongue flickers over his head, collecting precum, and Joel groans.

You pull off of him and lick your lips.

“What you gonna do?” you ask, fingers squeezing and dragging saliva and Joel’s arousal up and down. “About the budget stuff?”

His chest is heaving, hips lifting out of the seat almost like he’s trying to put himself back where he belongs. “What…can I do?” he asks through desperate pants. “Can’t – fuck – can’t drum sense into ‘em.”

You wrap your puffy lips around his tip, kissing it, tongue playing with him again. Swirling around, gathering him on your tastebuds. “Why don’t you cut ‘em loose, then?”

Your head dips again, lips sucking around his shaft, tongue still darting around his swollen head.

He can barely fucking answer. His eyes close over and, with a groan either side of the sentence, he replies, “’s not that easy, baby. Fuck. Keep doin’ that.”

You loosen your lips enough to let your reply pass them. Your voice is muffled, thick. “Sounds easy to me.”

“Shut up,” he grunts. “Keep fuckin’ – usin’ your tongue.”

You obey, running your tongue up and down his length and coming to rest to pay more attention to his tip.

“Yeah, just like that. Good girl.”

You hollow your cheeks and let your lips trickle up and down for a bit before releasing him with a pop. Joel’s writhing underneath you, leaning almost horizontal in his chair.

“Gonna cum, daddy?”

He nods, eyes still screwed shut. “Yeah, pretty girl. You want it down your throat again?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck – dirty girl.”

It’s all the encouragement you need. You widen your jaw, taking him in your mouth in full, until he’s choking you down to what feels like the bottom of your fucking neck. You fuck him with your throat, bobbing up and down, his fist in your hair pushing and pulling even though you don’t need him to. Your mouth meets the skin at the base of his cock over and over, dark hair brushing against your glossy lips.

Joel’s moaning each time, when his cock kisses the back of your throat, when you involuntarily choke around him, when your tongue drags along his length as he pulls you up and down. And soon his breathing loses rhythm, hips tense, and you know he’s there.

He cums, hard, at the back of your mouth. Warm release spilling out over your tongue, neatly running down your throat as you wait for him to still. His cock throbs with each shot of cum, swelling and jerking between your lips. When Joel sinks back into his chair again, you slip him out of your mouth and back under his boxershorts.

Your head lulls to the side, resting on his big thigh as you swallow him with a smile on your lips. His grip on your hair loosens, turns instead back to soft stroking, chest still panting as he comes back down. You watch him through glazed eyes; his shoulders rising and falling, breaths passing his lips like waves at the beach.

He’s twirling your hair gently around his finger, looking down at you like you’re made of twinkling gold dust.

Eventually, Joel takes a deep breath and sits up straight, beckoning you to do the same. He tucks his shirt back in, redoes his pants, then leans forward and hooks both hands under your arms, pulling you up to him.

You giggle as he lifts you onto his lap, straddling him with your knees either side of his waist. Your elbows rest on his shoulders, hands linking at the back of his neck.

His jaw turns upward, and you lower yours, your lips meeting in a soft embrace. You laugh against him, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, pushing yours into his.

“Better?” you ask once you part.

“Better, darlin’. Thank you.”

He kisses you again, a little more rushed, little less tender. Then his hands squeeze your ass and you squeal into his mouth, jumping up off of him.

You pass him his belt and lift the empty coffee mug off of his desk. “Refill?”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” he says, slipping the leather through his belt loops. His shoulders are lifted, tummy sucked in as he feeds it through. He almost looks cute.

You smile and then turn on your heels, wiping the corners of your mouth as you emerge from the office.

—————

“Is he comin’, or what?”

“Huh?”

Martha jerks her head in the direction of Joel’s office. She’s stood at your desk, hands on her hips, bag over her shoulder.

“He’s…Yeah, he said he would be. Let me go check.”

You close over the budget report file you’d been reading through and shimmy out from behind your desk, trying to amble as casually as possible over to the shuttered blinds.

You turn the handle, poking your head around the door.

He’s stood at his desk, raking a hand through his hair, top button of his shirt undone. Tie sitting loose around his collar. He spots you and gives an apologetic smile.

You comin’? you mouth.

Joel points to his phone. Some panicked voice fills the silence between you both.

“…so I gave the two of ‘em a tellin’; they shouldn’t make any more purchase orders without my permission. Without your permission, Joel, I mean…And about last month’s sales, too…”

You step over to his desk, slow, suspicious. Mischief on your mind.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

You cock your head, brows furrowing. You’d been looking forward to lunch with Joel all day; something to take his mind off the meeting this morning.

Martha had called his favorite restaurant, they’d told her they had no space, she’d mentioned it was for Mr. Miller, and a table had magically opened up. Then you’d encouraged her to ask Deb, knowing she’d inevitably ask James, her admin assistant, and, before you knew it, your small lunch was a party of five.

Worked for you. You and Joel would probably be too caught up in each other’s company to notice the rest.

Except, the way things are looking, Joel isn’t getting off this call anytime soon. Soon meaning within the next thirty seconds, given the reservation is in ten minutes.

You’re growing desperate. Running out of time, knowing if you don’t do something to shut this guy the fuck up, your little daydream of sitting side by side with Joel, so close you can feel the heat off of him, feel his chest vibrate when he talks, maybe even feel his hand trailing up your thigh…won’t come true.

“What if you just…” Your fingers walk along Joel’s desktop, heading for his phone. “…lost…connection…?”

He doesn’t say a word, but the smirk that forms across his lips grants you all the permission you need. Your fingers clutch the receiver, lifting it barely an inch, then drop it back into its cradle. The panicked voice cuts.

“Oops.” You shrug, straightening up in front of Joel.

“Oops,” he repeats, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him again. You lift your jaw to kiss him only quickly, before you’re pushing yourself off of his chest and dragging him away from his desk.

“Sorry, Ken!” you call as Joel yanks the door open, the pair of you laughing like schoolkids.

You meet the others outside the building, huddled together at the bottom of the concrete steps. Deb puts her cigarette out on top of a trashcan when you both approach.

“Well, we thought you weren’t comin’,” she utters to Joel.

He lifts his eyebrows in response, hands slipping into his pockets, and glances around the group. “We goin’?”

“Waiting for your driver, Mr. CEO.” Martha winks.

“Aha,” Joel replies, face unmoving, “funny.”

“It’s, like, two blocks, we can walk,” you say, setting off down the street. Joel’s quick to follow, strolling at your side, but there’s a chorus of groans from the rest of your party. “Come on!” you yell over your shoulder.

“We’re supposed to be dining with the head of the fuckin’ company!” Martha cries, and Deb cackles.

“I gotta live like the rest of y’all sometimes,” Joel shrugs, walking backward, “keeps my feet rooted, doesn’t it?”

“I hate you,” you mutter, and he knocks into your shoulder with his own.

The Courtyard is bright, modern, and…beige. It’s only Joel’s favorite because it was a buddy of his from grad school who opened it, but you’re the only person he’s entrusted with that information. It’s decent food – they do a great chicken risotto – and it is always busy, so Drew must be doing alright with it.

You walk under a fake ivy plant covering the entrance, past twinkling fairy lights and to a rustic wooden reception area. Some hyper server comes bounding over and introduces himself as Jake, before Martha gives the name of the reservation and he batters it into a keyboard.

“Lopez?” you ask Martha, screwing your face up.

“Yeah. Comma Jennifer. I like to make it exciting.”

“If you wanted exciting, go for Beyoncé, or something. Lopez?”

“You really think Beyoncé is gonna come eat here?”

“You really think Jennifer Lopez is?”

She bats you away, turning her attention to Deb, who finds the JLo joke hilarious. When Jake springs off, beckoning you all to follow him, Joel leans in close to you.

“She used to use Pamela Anderson. Glad she’s evolved a little.”

You snort and follow Jake toward the same table Joel always sits at: the very back of the restaurant, quieter, separated by screens of more fake greenery. Windows looking out over the busy streets. Bare lightbulbs hanging from unnecessarily long wires over the tables.

Joel pulls your chair out for you and slots in beside you, on your right. Martha, Deb, and James – who hasn’t said or done much more than chortle at anything Joel’s said – sit opposite. Jake borderline frisbees the menus at you guys and tells you to give him a shout when you’re ready to order.

You turn to Joel who shakes his head, hand cupping his chin.

The five of you scan down the menus – at least, you, Joel and Martha pretend to. You’ve been coming here regularly enough for long enough that you know what you’ll inevitably end up ordering. James is asking Deb if the steak might fill him up too much before his squash practice later on tonight when you feel a familiar heat on your leg, and look past your menu to see Joel’s hand curving around your thigh.

You hold back a smile, pretending to be really into the laminated sheet in your hands. So long as he keeps it PG, and James keeps rabbiting on about squash being good for your hand-eye co-ordination, this is fine. This is…enjoyable.

This is exactly what you fucking wanted, when you organized lunch.

But when Jake returns to collect the menus under his arm then scurries back off, and Martha and Deb start discussing some TV show they’re both hooked on, Joel’s hand begins to rake higher. Taking the hem of your skirt with it. You suck in a deep breath, pretending to watch the two women and trying your best to listen to the words they’re saying, but he’s getting dangerously close to your–

“You ever try squash, Joel?”

“Huh?” Joel’s hand halts instantly. You exhale.

James is sitting forward, elbows on the table, nodding with a perfectly innocent smile on his face. “Squash. Yeah. I play every Friday evening, straight after work. It’s fantastic for shakin’ off that week-long stress, y’know? Not that workin’ here is a stress, but sometimes it can build up, sometimes you just need something to…” He balls his fists and jerks them, gritting his teeth.

You choke on a laugh and play it off as a cough.

Joel shifts a little in his seat, his palm still clamped around the top of your thigh. “Never played squash. More of a golfing guy.”

“That what you’re gonna do this weekend? Burn off all that stress you’ve had with a round of golf?” you ask Joel, lips almost trembling with the effort it’s taking you not to burst out laughing.

“Not what I had in mind, naw,” he almost spits back.

“Well, if you ever wanna try it, you know who to call. Squash, I mean. I mean – sorry, I don’t mean call squash. I mean call me. To try squash. You won’t find a better stress reliever.”

“Thanks, James,” Joel mutters, fingers fumbling with the cutlery on the table in front of him.

You could fucking burst. No better stress reliever than squash, right Joel? Nothing like it. Not even the one sitting next to you, her thigh under your grasp. Nope.

You’re thankful when Martha calls your name and averts your attention.

“You have got to watch it. I reckon she’d really love it, right?”

Deb nods eagerly.

“What’s that?” you ask.

They both start chirping away, describing the plot of some mystery thriller. It’s hard to keep up, what with them both speaking over one another, deciding which parts are safe to tell you and No, we can’t tell her that, that’s a spoiler, which actors are in it and how many episodes it took for them to really get into it.

Not to mention Joel’s hand, which has resumed its climb up your leg.

“There are three seasons,” Martha says, finger drawing shapes on her placemat, “and do not go lookin’ online for anything, because at the end of season two, there’s a massive death, and…”

Your thighs are bare again, skirt rolled up and held at the top of your legs by Joel’s wrist. He’s squeezing as he goes, massaging, driving you fucking insane as he adds more and more pressure. Still, your legs part for him the higher he goes.

“W-what– where can I watch it?” you ask, your eyes closing over as Joel’s fingers loosen their grip.

Deb says something, but it’s muffled. Drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Joel’s right hand sits under his chin, elbow propped on the table as if he’s musing over the weather or considering what to do with his weekend.

His left moves swiftly over to run along the elastic of your panties. Sift his thumb down below them. Fingers drop to cup you over the lace fabric. Suddenly, you’re sitting upright, your arms propping on the table, then falling to your lap, then one elbow up, then both down again.

What the fuck– how the fuck do you make this look casual? Being touched by your boss at lunch, with three colleagues sat opposite you?

Joel seems to be enjoying watching you squirm. You hear him breathe a laugh into his hand, and then his fingers begin to travel even further south, moving your panties to the side to sift through your folds.

Which are, regrettably, fucking soaked.

“Hm,” you hear Joel hum, and you can’t look at him. Knowing he’s found exactly what he was looking for. Knowing he’s achieved exactly what he set out to do.

You sit stunned, staying completely still for fear you might draw attention from your company. But then he’s dipping a finger in, pushing deep inside you, and your jaw falls loose, a silent moan escaping in the form of a sigh.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Martha addresses you and Joel, “as requested, flights organized. You leave for Paris next Friday morning, fly home Monday afternoon.”

“Yep,” you reply, shuddering slightly. “Sounds good.”

You’re not fucking listening to a word she’s saying.

“Thanks, Martha,” Joel says, as casual as if he were telling her the time. Almost bored.

You drop your hand and it clamps around Joel’s wrist; you’re sure you’re scratching him, but you don’t care. Not only does he deserve it, but it’s all you can do to stop yourself from screaming out when he inserts a second finger.

You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer.

You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

It’s the last push. The last fucking shove.

Your walls clamp around his fist, your entire body screams, a scream that forcibly dies out in your throat as you lean forward and –

You slam your fist down on the tabletop, the sudden jolt of cutlery and glass making the three opposite you jump.

“Are you– what’s wrong?” Martha asks, leaning closer.

“Cr– fuck– cramp,” you mumble, eyes screwed shut, hand still gripping Joel’s wrist. He slowly drags his soaked fingers out of your tight cunt, casually maneuvering his arm back where it belongs whilst the table’s attention is still on your head and shoulders.

“Cramp?”

“My – fucking – leg. I’ll be – right back.” You’re almost hyperventilating as you shakily stand, shoving your chair back with your legs only for it to be caught by the hand Joel had inside you seconds before.

You waddle off to the front of the restaurant, nearly breaking out into a run when you reach the hallway leading to the restrooms. The door to the ladies room bursts open and you throw yourself against a sink, gripping onto the ceramic, chest heaving, shoulders hunched. Your cunt is still throbbing, waves of your orgasm slowly losing power and retreating.

You wave your hand under the faucet and cold water automatically flows, filling your cupped hands, cooling your blood, cooling your skin when you dab it onto your cheeks. You sigh with relief, leaning against the sink, catching pathetic glimpses of yourself in the mirror.

And then, the door pushes open. And his silhouette sneaks inside. He leans back against the wall, hands in his pockets. Face with a smirk you want to slap off of him.

“How’s the cramp?”

“Are you fucking–” You flick your hands toward him, splashing him with water as he throws an arm up to dodge it, laughing. That fucking laugh.

He wanders around you, looking your shaking body up and down, and comes to a halt with his chest against your back. His chin leans into your shoulder, and you look at each other in the mirror.

It takes everything in you to fight the smile growing on your lips, but when Joel mirrors it, you can’t help it.

“Fucker,” you whisper, and he kisses your shoulder. You lean back into him, ass pressing against him, feeling something you already suspected would be there.

“Feel what you did to me?” he asks, voice muffled into the cotton of your shirt.

“Mhm,” you reply, and you drop your hand to take the outline of him through his pants.

“You wanna fix it for me?”

Your head rolls back against his shoulder, smutty grin melting across your face. “Yeah, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he tells you, lips dragging across your neck, hands at his belt.

Your fingers clutch your skirt, still hiked halfway up your thighs, and pull it further. Joel’s hands replace yours on your hips and he shoves his pants apart, lining his bulge up with your core. Then his palm is at the bottom of your back, pushing you forward into position. Your knuckles whiten around the ceramic sink.

“Fuck,” you whisper when you feel his tip at your entrance. You’re already soaked through, no need for him to take his time. Not that you have time, anyway, with three coworkers out front waiting for the two of you.

Joel thrusts forward, entering you in one go, filling you up so fast you nearly double over. He keeps a tight grip on your hips, dragging you up and down the top of his cock a few times before slamming all the way into you again, eliciting a cry from your lips.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, low, dangerous. “Just gettin’ you warmed up.”

“Your hand wasn’t enough of a warmup?” you throw over your shoulder, and he takes your arms and pulls you flush against him.

“You gonna run that pretty mouth the entire time we’re in here, or you gonna let me fuck you?” he breathes around the shell of your ear.

“Both.”

You bite back a whimper when his hips buck into you painfully. A telling: don’t start.

Joel establishes a pace quick enough, both of you aware you can’t take too long in here. His grunts match the rate his body snaps against yours, your panting matches the rate you bounce up and down on him.

You’re watching the sight reflected in the mirror: Joel hooked around your shoulder, lips against your ear, whispering praises and filth, and you, leaning back against him, rutting on his hard cock with a thick smile on your lips.

“Daddy…” you whine, and Joel’s vice grip tightens even more.

“Good girl,” he pants, “so fuckin’ good for me.”

It’s not long before that heat is swirling around your core again, sparks of lightning jolting through the whirlwind of pleasure Joel’s hips create between yours. You take a hold of his arms for stability as you begin to feel your orgasm crest the horizon, knowing by the sounds he’s making in your ear that Joel isn’t far off, either.

“Cum in me,” you whimper, watching for his reaction in the mirror.

He pulls a face that’s almost…defeated. Groans like you’ve given him an impossible problem to solve.

You plead with your eyes. “Cum – in – me.”

It’s like you’re pressing on the weakest part of a porcelain vase; daring it to break. Daring it to fall apart. Joel knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s more sensible not to. But the way you look, body against his, whining and whimpering and fucking smiling right back at him – the way you feel, so warm and wet, squeezing him so tight he’s surprised he’s even lasted this long…

He can’t fucking help himself.

He moans and his hands clamp on your waist, forcing you forward as he ruts into you once, twice, three times before he’s twitching deep inside, warm seed spilling out and coating your walls. Your release floods over you, then, too, your head falling forward as your legs give for a few seconds, Joel’s grip the only thing keeping you upright.

Stars in your eyes, you pull the strength to lift your head and look at your reflection; Joel behind you, face to the ceiling as he slowly stills between your legs.

Your cunt throbs, and you move your hips back and forth gently, drawing a noise from Joel that you wish you could never stop hearing.

“Baby,” he lulls, looking down to watch as your dripping cunt rocks back and forth, taking him all and then letting him go again.

It’s a minute or so before you both return to reality. Bodies still connected, Joel places a steady kiss to your cheek. You lean into him, turning to place your lips against his. You’re both hot, sweaty, it’s probably pretty noticeable you just fucked.

And you don’t care.

Joel slips out of you and backs up, letting you fix yourself in the mirror as he stuffs himself back into his pants.

“You think you can walk back to the office?” he asks, smirking.

“Call Rand,” you reply, and his head tips back in a laugh.

He nods toward the door and the pair of you slip out discreetly, you first to check the coast is clear, and Joel right behind. You walk along the hallway, heels clicking, like you’ve just come across each other right outside the restrooms.

“Hey, Joel,” a voice says from behind you both as you wander past the bar.

“Drew,” Joel replies, and shakes the hand of a tall blonde guy in all black. His t-shirt’s so tight you can make out his pecs underneath it.

“How’s it goin’? You been in long?”

“Just waitin’ for our food,” Joel says, “it’s probably out by now.” He glances over at you and your legs clench subconsciously. He introduces you then, says, “My assistant. Best assistant I could ask for,” and your lungs close up.

Drew shakes your hand and then turns back to Joel. “Don’t go without catchin’ me, ain’t lettin’ you pay a thing. How’s business?”

Joel nods. “Good, good. We’re, uh, we’re heading out to Europe next week, so.”

“Jean-Marc?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. Place is lookin’ good, same as always.” Joel glances around, pointing randomly to the light fixture above your heads.

Drew does that thing men do when trapped in a dry conversation: folds his arms, looks to the floor, and nods some more. Waiting for Joel to say —

“Alright, well. Great seein’ you again. Thanks for lunch.”

He puts an arm around your back and guides you off back to the table.

“Nice meetin’ you.” You smile at Drew as you pass and he returns it, turning back to the bar.

Once you’re out of earshot, you look over to Joel.

“Something going on there?”

“Huh?”

You scoff. “You two couldn’t wait to be away from each other. Why’d you always come here if it’s so awkward?”

“Well, if I see ‘im, I get free food.”

You slap his arm as he pulls your chair back out for you.

“Feelin’ better?” Deb asks, pushing French fries around her plate.

You nod, pulling your seat in beside Joel, who’s still laughing at himself. As you settle, you feel the warmth he left behind spill out of you a little, pooling in your underwear. And Joel seems to notice, whether from some sexual sixth sense he has when it comes to you, or just the way you awkwardly shift in your seat. He hands you a smug smirk, nudging you with his elbow.

You narrow your eyes at him and turn back to Martha.

“So, you were saying you fixed the flights for Paris?”

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #softdom!joel miller #softdom!joel

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deathbyyoongx · 9 months

Text

everytime; chapter 6 — myg

╭ chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ...

╭ word count: 5k

╭ summary: Everyone knew Min Yoongi as the guy who wouldn't say no to a nice pair of tits. His cocky attitude and stunning looks made it hard for most girls to resist. And even though you would like to say you're not like the others in that aspect, you unfortunately happened to be his ex. But even though you despised his guts for the last 3 years or so, he somehow managed to find himself a way between your legs on one semi-drunk night.

╭ pairing: fuckboy!yoongi x ex!reader

╭ genre: smut, angst, bit of fluff, more smut

╭ warnings: enemies to fwb, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, jealous ex!jungkook, bestfriend!jimin, hate sex, yoongi has a degrading kink but so does yn, brat taming, hair pulling, spitting, slapping, hickeys, choking, unprotected sex (STAY SAFE GUYS!), creampie, praise kink, hand kink, possessive yoongi, sexual content ofc, mentions of drinking, ...

╭ author's note: this fic is inspired by the song everytime by ariana grande. I also recommend using the chrome extension InteractiveFics for a better reading experience ;)

I'm sorry my dear readers it took so long. My life has been so busy this summer, but I'll finally have some free time soon. Not fully satisfied with this chapter, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3

08/09/2023

The inevitable happened. Jungkook was standing in front of your door, right here, right now. You knew ignoring him was a bad idea and this was bound to happen from the start if you kept avoiding him. It also didn’t help that he interrupted your little self-love session which involved you pleasuring yourself by the mere thought of Min Yoongi. You’ve become your greatest self-saboteur. You just kept rethinking that night you were at his house where you were too much of a pussy to make a move. The scenario of that morning where he was just on display for you, ready for you to get rid of his morning wood. But no, you didn’t dare. The words of Yoongi just echoed through your head. ‘You’re a lot of talk when you’re drunk, but sober you’re such a pussy.’ You hated the fact he was right. But, back to Jungkook, before you were getting even more worked up.

“Look, I wasn’t planning to come over,” Jungkook said with a pleading expression, looking very apologetic about the fact he was bothering you today, making you feel even worse about ignoring him. “But I had plans with Joon and since you live right next to him, I just wanted to check on you for a second.”

No matter what happened between you and Jungkook, you could never be mad at him. You’ve known him for some time now, and you just knew how sweet that boy was. Whenever you’d text him in need, there he was. Whenever you wanted advice, a hug, or just a good laugh, there he was in front of your door. And that’s why you couldn’t break his heart again. You just knew how disappointed and heartbroken he’d become if he’d known about your little affair with Yoongi. You didn’t owe him anything, you knew that. You also knew, that the longer you postponed telling him, the worse he’d react. But every time you wanted to tell him, your heart blocked you off. “That’s sweet Jungkook, I’m fine though.”

“You've been distant, I barely hear from you anymore. Did I do something wrong?” Suddenly, you felt really bad about ignoring Jungkook as soon as he asked that.

“I know and I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy lately.” Oh, and busy you were, but for all the wrong reasons.

“With the move probably?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie, you have finally packed out all of your stuff, but it also wasn't the complete truth. But as long as you didn't lie, it didn't make you feel too bad. “Sorry if I made you think I forgot about you.”

“It's fine, u know I can't be mad at you.” Likewise. “Maybe I got too worked up over nothing.” Jungkook stayed quiet for a second. “If you want, I can ask Namjoon if you could join us. It has been a while since we’ve hung out.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Jungkook’s suggestion. “That's sweet, but I'm a bit tired.” And very horny cause you interrupted my little fantasy of Yoongi. “But I’ll text you to hang out as soon as possible, okay? I promise.” You held out your pinky finger to enhance your promise, waiting for him to link his with yours.

Jungkook smiled, teeth showing as well. You’ve been keeping promises like this ever since college. “Alright then.” He said while he linked his pinky with yours. “See you later.” After your wholesome goodbye with Jungkook, it was time to continue your sinful ‘fingerpainting’ session again if you wanted to function for the rest of the evening. Because, damn, did the idea of Yoongi drive you insane. But the moment you spread your legs again, that dreadful message of that girl popped back in your head, making you cancel all plans you had to finger yourself at the thought of that fuckboy. Remember that name Eunha? Yes, we all do. One thing led to another and now you were looking up her profile by searching through Yoongi’s followers. You hated her already. Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous, but you saw her feed was full of pictures of her and Yoongi. “Argh-“ You groaned out loud out of frustration. How could you compare to these beauties? You rarely felt insecure, but when it came to Yoongi? Damn, it’s as if confidence never crossed your path. The mere thought of Yoongi spending another night with another girl made you groan out loud out of resentment. You just kept telling yourself: ‘You know he’s a fuckboy, you shouldn’t obsess over this’. You were putting yourself in this situation. But the feeling of him wanting you just was too addictive. You couldn’t even differentiate the feeling of lust and love anymore around him. You just knew one thing for sure, you wanted him. That’s it. There was only one rational thing left to do now. Send him a nude. After some awkward posing half-naked in front of your full-body mirror, only wearing some black lace panties, you finally took a picture you were more than satisfied with. A proud smirk formed on your lips as you sent the picture to him with the caption ‘so long till Friday :(’.

Sent.

Where had your rational thinking gone whenever it came to Yoongi? You wouldn’t have done this for any other guy, but him? That man just made you do irrational things. You pulled on an oversized shirt as you just continued to scroll down Instagram, further stalking the girls that you saw tagged Yoongi in their posts. Not only the fact that there were other pretty girls that we’re fucking Yoongi was bothering you, but also the fact that it was so fucking many. This was just bound to happen. A hot successful single man in his twenties that loved to fuck around and was also good at fucking around? Of course girls would scurry to him like hungry rats. Maybe you shouldn’t think of those girls as rats, you bet they were lovely girls that, like you, couldn’t resist the charms of Mister Min Yoongi. This was your jealousy talking, but why were you so jealous…?

[21:06] Yoongi: Come over

The notification of Yoongi’s message popped up on your screen like a sign from above. You really wanted to come over, but you need to toy with him was even bigger. Plus, you were a bit irritated by scrolling through all those girls’ Instagram accounts, so no way in hell were you going to give in that easily.

[21:07] y/n: why would I head over to your house at this hour? It’s so dark out.

[21:07] Yoongi: you’re right

[21:08] Yoongi: on my way

Wait, what?!

Was he…really planning to come over? His text made you jump out of your seat and head as quickly as possible to the bathroom for a quick shower. You were all sweaty and stinky from work, no way that you could let him see or smell you like this. It took you an impressive 15 minutes to get ready, almost a new record. So there you were, casually sitting on your couch, acting as if you were not expecting anyone to ring the doorbell anytime soon.

Ding dong

An instantaneous smile formed on your lips, slapping yourself on the face to get rid of it as you jumped out of your seat. You gave yourself a last glance at the TV reflection, just to make sure you looked presentable. You fixed your hair and opened the front door, revealing a handsome-looking Yoongi, per usual. “Hi Yoon-” But the sudden feeling of his lips on yours interrupted your greeting.

He gently pushed you inside, closing the door behind him. “You’re such a tease.” He whispered in between kisses. His touch was gentle as if he was savouring every taste, this time not planning on another night of just talking. He deepened the kiss, his tongue gently teasing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. No time could be wasted as your desires had been suppressed by your cowardness last night. You needed him now. You led Yoongi to your bedroom, a trail of stumbling over one another as you just couldn’t keep your lips off of each other. It became apparent neither of you were planning to take it slow by the way you were tucking on each other’s clothing, desperate to take them off this instant. In a swift motion, Yoongi took off your shirt, making him smirk at the sight of those familiar black-laced panties. He pushed you onto the bed before taking off his shirt as well, revealing his lean body and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your eyes travelled from his face to his neck, chest, and abs until they stopped as his ever-growing erection that was desperately waiting to be released from his jeans. He noticed your staring, making him say. “This is all yours.”

He hovered over you, pushing you further on the bed as his lips followed yours. “My girl got needy for my cock, huh?”

“Just a cock, to be honest.” You were really not into the whole ‘I’m going to stroke his ego even further’, not because you didn’t want to necessarily, but because you were a whore for him putting you in your place.

“You say that, but I bet you only sent that picture to me, didn’t you?” You were quiet, which made your answer all too obvious. “That’s what I thought.” Yoongi pulled back for a second, taking his time to admire your body which he can’t seem to get enough of. The way the lingerie complimented your curves, looking too pretty to take off. “You never feel to amaze me, damn-” You felt your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment, making him smirk out of satisfaction. “Getting shy, huh? That’s how I know my girl.” He whispered in a husky tone before his lips met your neck.

Yoongi’s lips on your neck made you shiver, holding onto his shoulders for support. “No hickeys please, I have to work tomorrow.”

His hands travelled towards your core, gently rubbing against the already wet cloth in a teasing manner. “I’ll try.” He said before kissing you again, feeling him smirk against your lips. “I’m almost flattered how worked up you get from me.” He moved the slip of your panty to the side, his fingers finding their way to your soaked entrance. He glided his middle finger between your folds, using your own wetness as lubrication as he gently applied pressure on your sweet spot. A small whimper left your lips as your hands tightened themselves around Yoongi’s upper arms, making you realize how buffed he had gotten over the years. His middle and index finger hugged around your clit, slowly and teasingly circling around it, making it hard for you not to slip out a few moans. While your eyes were closed as you felt yourself getting lost in the pleasure, Yoongi's, however, were fixed on you as if he were studying you. Adjusting his every move by the way you reacted to it, unconsciously remembering how you like it. The way his hardness was pressed against his jeans made it almost seem like it was going to tear any second now, but how couldn’t he? Seeing you desperate for his touch was one of his biggest turn-ons, but there was one small thing leaving him not fully satisfied. “You can be louder than that.” Yoongi whispered in your ear, the tone of his voice low with a slight rasp. “I want to hear you.”

“I have thin walls.” You let out, gasping for air due to you covering your mouth to keep yourself down.

“Namjoon will not care.” Yoongi purred as he increased his pace, making it even harder for you to control yourself. He knew your neighbour and mutual friend liked to mess around himself, but that wasn’t the problem…

“Jungkook’s visiting him.” You said without thinking twice., almost regretting it instantly after those words spilled from your mouth.

“Uhu.” He said sternly, removing his hand from your precious core as the air was getting filled with anticipation. “In that case.” Yoongi unbuckled his belt, pulling it off his waist in a swift motion. “Give me your hands.” Without putting much thought behind it, you did as you were told as you held your hands in front of you. With a firm grip, Yoongi grabbed your wrists and started wrapping his belt around it, tying your hands to the headboard of your bed. Oh no…His fingertips were brushing down at the side of your legs, finding his way back to your most intimate area, carefully sliding down your panties. He felt empowered by your arousal, your cunt glistening from excitement. His lips followed suit, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your thighs before his tongue traced the slit of your hole. A small quiver left your lips as he pressed just the right amount of pressure on your clit, followed by short flicks. The world around you faded away as Yoongi focused solely on your pleasure, and you could tell he was trying to make a point by touching you with slow and teasing movements, making it hard for you not to whine out of sheer desperation.

“Yoongi, please-” You softly moaned, feeling rather unsatisfied by the minimum fulfillment he was giving you. Yoongi, however, did not make a sound as he continued teasing you. Every time you expected him to apply more pressure or increase the pace, he pulled his tongue back, and it almost felt as if you could feel his smirk against you. Due to Yoongi’s solution to make you unable to muffle your moans, the silence of the room was getting filled by your desperation. A whimper, a moan, and eventually a cuss in a mixture of Yoongi’s name slipped your lips. “Fuck-” The pleasure intensified, building an undeniable tension that hung in the air, aching to be released. Slow but surely, Yoongi did give in to your needs, making you want to grab onto the bed sheets but being unable to. The way his tongue rolled on your sensitive nub, not only added to your pleasure but made his even more desperate. You became a moaning frustrated mess, every flick of Yoongi’s tongue feeling like a tease. “Just make me come, please-” You cried, hopelessly waiting for your sweet release. “Please-” Tears from desperation rolled down your face in a mix with your mascara, a sight Yoongi loved to see.

Yoongi sat back up straight, wiping your wetness from his underlip. He looked at you with full earnestness, smirking at the state of your body out of amusement, a hint of sadism in his eyes. “Beg for it, tell me how much you want it.” He said in full seriousness, his eyes shimmering with pure lust and desire. His fingers were tracing the entrance from your folds, gently applying pleasure at the most sacred part. “Loud enough for me to hear it.” He smirked again.

“Yoongi-ah-“ He took your clit between his fingers again, using a quick circular motion to receive a reaction from you. “Please, please, please-” smirking at the tears mixed with your mascara rolling down your face. “I need you to make me come. You can do whatever you want with me, but just make me come.” With every move, you felt yourself growing closer, letting out another loud whine as he abruptly removed his fingers from you. You watched Yoongi lick his fingers as if you were a delicacy before he started unzipping his jeans for his own comfort. “Yoongi-” You called, rubbing your legs together to feel some sort of release.

After Yoongi took his jeans off, his boxers were the only thing away from revealing himself. “I know baby, I know.” He placed his hands on your thighs again, spreading your legs again, preventing you from continuing to self-pleasure yourself. “Does my girl want to cum?” Yoongi’s fingers softly caressed your slit, driving you even more horny and insane. A moan that sounded like a yes left your lips. “Hmh?” He teased as his fingers left again.

Feeling the absence of Yoongi’s touch was what drove you to sheer and utter desperation. “My fucking god-yes! Please, Yoongi, let me cum. I need you so badly right now.” You cried, more tears leaving your eyes. The louder your pleads got, the more satisfied he was. “Yoongi please-”

Yoongi let out an amused chuckle. “Look how desperate you are for me. What would your friends think if they heard you like this? Especially the neighbours.” He said, sure to emphasize that last part.

“I don’t care anymore, I just need you.”

“Good.” Yoongi placed your legs on his shoulders, keeping your thighs in a steady distance, his grip making it unable for you to move. His tongue tracing, what felt like love letters, on your aching clit, every flick driving you closer to your orgasm. After all that teasing, it didn’t take long for you to get there, feeling the knot in your lower body growing stronger.

“Yes, yes, oh my fuck-yes!” With an arched back and trembling legs, you finally reached your long-postponed climax, which was more intense than your body seemed to handle. And it felt as if you could feel it until the tips of your fingers, leaving your body in exhaustion. “Fuck Yoongi-“ You heavily panted, feeling his tongue still on your clit. “I’m too sensitive.” You whimpered, making him pull away.

“Awe, are you now?” He said with fake pity.

“Uhu.” You pleaded.

“Was it a bit too intense for my girl?” He asked, making you hum another ‘uhu’. “Poor thing.” He leaned in to kiss you, feeling his hand going near your back to take your bra off. “I want to see all of you.”

As you were catching your breath, heavily panting, you watched him take his briefs off which were covered in precum. “You’re doing so good, baby. Do you want the rest?” Was Yoongi’s way of asking for further consent, giving his dick a few slow strokes as he looked at you. You eagerly nodded your head, making him grin. “Of course you do.” Before he fully entered you, he traced the slit of your entrance with the tip of his dick, teasing himself before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. A drawn-out moan left his lips by the way your walls tightly hugged around him, a soft cuss slipping in between. He slowly and slightly pulled out of you, his cock glistening with the coat of your fluids around him. “I’ve missed you.” He groaned before thrusting in and out of you again. He was going rather slow as if he was savouring every thrust. “My pretty girl.” His hands were on your thighs, keeping your legs up for maximum access. You wanted to hold onto him, digging your nails into his back as your personal mark on him, but his personal handcuffs made that not an option. His thumb found your clit again, making your walls clench around him as he wanted to make you cum again. “Shit-”

“I want to touch you, please Yoongi.” You pleaded as you were tucking on your personal prison.

Heavy breaths left Yoongi’s lips. “Hmh, do you know?” He teased, that menacing smirk plastered on his face again. He slowly slid himself fully into you and you were pretty sure you could feel his tip touching the entrance of your cervix. “Shit-” After that, Yoongi increased his pace and you could already feel your legs shake. Hearing your moans as he filled you up was music to his ears. “And risking you covering your mouth again? No way. I want to hear my girl.” You wanted to tell him you’ll be a good girl and won’t do that, but he upped the pace again, making it hard for you to speak in general. Your tits were bouncing heavily on your chest, which was a beautiful sight to see for Yoongi. He quickly combed his hand through his hair, preventing his hair from blocking the sight he had in front of him. Sweat drops were forming on his forehead, making his hair damp but, fuck, did he look hot right now. Even though Yoongi was mostly focused on his pleasure as he thrust in and out of you, he made sure not to forget about you by the way his thumb was rubbing against your clit, feeling your walls clench around him as you were getting closer to your climax. Your moans were only getting louder, and in the back of your head, you knew you were going to have to explain yourself to your neighbour and friend tomorrow. “I want to feel you cum around my dick.” Yoongi groaned, his rasp indicating he was almost there. He slowed down the pace, focusing more on his finger work so you would get another round of pleasure.

“Oh god-“ You moaned as you felt another wave of ecstasy waiting for you. “Yes, yes-“ It felt as if his thumb was vibrating against your clit, your mind not fully comprehending how the fuck he did that. “I’m gonna-” But instead of the words, the loud moan that left your lips and the way your walls clenched around him, made it clear you reached your peak, making Yoongi increase his paste of fucking you.

The mixture of his postponed climax as protection of his ego and the sounds you were making, made him only seconds away of coming undone. To your surprise, he slid himself out of you, stroking himself down until you felt his cum on you, painting your whole body with it. A loud groan left his throat, head thrown back in pleasure. He stopped jerking himself off, taking a few deep breaths before looking back at you, staring like you were a masterwork. “My favourite looks so beautiful.” He smirked, kissing you softly before untying you. Your wrist hurt from the tightness of his belt, but for some reason, you really didn’t seem to mind. “Let me clean you up first.” Before Yoongi got up to go to the bathroom, he gave you one last kiss on the lips, taking his time before parting lips. You watch him leave the room, quickly finding his way to your bathroom as if he has been here before. You couldn’t sit up straight without making a mess since, yeah, you were covered in cum. It was almost impressive. Yoongi quickly came back, placing himself between your legs again for easy access. He was holding a wet towel, and when he was wiping away his hard work, you noticed he made it lukewarm just for your comfort. As he got you clean again, he leaned in to kiss you again, kissing your neck before kissing your lips. He gently cupped your face in the palm of his hand, looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes as he parted his lips with yours. “You did so good.” He whispered softly, his thumb slightly caressing your cheek.

You placed your hand on his and for some reason, your heart felt heavy. “Please stay the night.” You said with pleading eyes, making Yoongi smile softly at you.

“I had no intention of doing anything else.” He removed himself from the bed, grabbing his briefs again. “You want to wear my T-shirt?” He smiled as he put back his underwear, knowing how much you loved to sleep in them. You happily nodded, putting it on as soon as he handed it to you. Before Yoongi placed himself back next to you, he couldn’t help but notice the wall of pictures on one of y our bedroom walls. And the longer he started down that wall of pictures, the longer he kept staring at one photo in particular. “You still have that picture of us.”

You looked away from Yoongi for a second, even though you knew exactly what photo he was talking about. “Yeah, I do.” It was a selfie you had taken with him, back when the two of you were 17. You could tell you were young by the way you two looked. It just happened to be one of your favourite photos of all time. Not because of quality or how aesthetically pleasing the picture looked, but because it just locked many memories. The most beautiful memories with Yoongi to be exact. That’s when you reminisced about the time with him again. Him waiting after classes so he could walk home with you. He asked if he could do his homework at your place, even though you two did everything besides homework. And just the way he used to love you was so gentle and loving, nothing like he was now. You were his and his only. “It’s one of my favourites, actually.” You just felt a need to say that.

“One of your favourite pictures is one where I’m in the frame?” He teased as he got back in bed with you, pulling you by the waist to have you close to him. He didn’t ask because he thought you were weird for calling a photo with your ex ‘one of your favourites’, but rather out of reassurance that it really was your favourite, even though he was in it.

“Yes, it was before you were a dick” You chuckled, even though you didn’t really mean it. “I have a lot of good memories linked to you, you know. They’re not all bad.” You explained, the tone in your voice slightly saddening as memories and emotions of your breakup entered your head. “Besides, you were my favourite at some point, so it’s not that weird.” That’s when Yoongi’s words from before echoed through your head again. ‘My favourite looks beautiful’ Did he really mean that or was it just a heat of the moment kind of thing?

It was one of the few moments where Yoongi was the one who seemed to want to say something but stayed quiet instead. He seemed…conflicted. There was a brief moment when he looked happy, but then a hint of sadness waved over it. You couldn’t read his emotions and it made you frustrated. “Likewise.” That was all he said, but you knew Yoongi well enough to know that there was more on his mind.

When you woke up the next morning, a lack of a presence beside you made you wake up quicker than usual. After a few blinks, you noticed Yoongi wasn’t lying beside you. You felt your heartache, unknown why he wasn’t there. Your mind went to start thinking of the worst again, but before you could fully feel your heartbreak, you saw a little note on your bedside table. “Had an important meeting. Sorry, I couldn’t stay.” All your worries were suddenly washed over as you read the last sentence. “See you soon though :]” You felt like a teen again by the way you got so excited over a written note, making you put it in your drawer so you wouldn’t lose it. Besides Yoongi’s scent lingering throughout your apartment, you noticed an unfamiliar object lying neatly on your bedside table as well. And that’s when you realized…

Those were the panties you had lost at Hoseok’s party.

Rarely enough, you decided to have your lunch break with Jia. Usually, you would make some lame ass excuse as to why you couldn’t have your break together with her, avoiding any opportunity she could have to talk about Yoongi’s dick again. But today, you felt brave, agreeing you would eat together, making her ecstatic. “Please y/n?! You have to come!” Jia has been desperately trying to convince you to come clubbing with her for the last half hour or so. Guilt brews inside your gut as she’s unknown to the idea of Yoongi and you. How would she even react? She couldn’t be that mad since half of her friends have been sharing him. And the more you started to think about it, the more disturbed you were about that thought. “I bet you’ll love it.”

You doubted that. You enjoyed going home after a long work shift, but she does seem very persistent. Maybe you should go. “Alright…you convinced me.”

“Ugh, finally! You’ll have a great time, I promise! You can even bring your boo Jungkook” She teased before taking a big bite of your lunch, continuing to speak with a full mouth after that.

“Don’t say that-“

“If you don’t want him I sure wouldn’t mind taking a bite of that”

Jesus.

“I’ll ask him.” You smiled, making Jia hug you out of sheer happiness. You felt bad again. You knew Jia liked you, but all you could think about was Yoongi doing the things he did with you yesterday with her. It made you grow resentful towards her, even though she didn’t do anything wrong. You thought maybe, tomorrow, you wouldn’t feel like that anymore. You could see her in another light if it was just you and her and maybe some of her friends. Those friends who probably have had sex with Yoongi too though…No! You were not going to think like this! No man was going to ruin the beautiful opportunity of two women becoming friends. Especially a fuckboy like Yoongi. For a short while you thought you were above casual hookups, but lately you’ve been taking that thought into question.

Before your break was over, you texted the idea to Jungkook, hoping he’d say yes because no way were you going to survive that night without a familiar face. To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t against the idea of clubbing with you after you texted him. On the contrary, he seemed to be really excited about it, telling you he has always wanted to do something like that with you. This makes you think there must be some underlying motivation for his answer.

Or maybe you were just overthinking it?

Taglist; @flowerblu00, @brinda-9, @seokjinkismet, @sugainmybowl, @mxxxnshine @arianalilyblack

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thecapricunt1616 · 2 months

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The Bear & His Honey - Chapter 17

♡ Chapter Inspo: Too Sweet - Hozier ; "You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape."

♡ Summary: Winnie & Carmy attend one of their first full family functions as a couple, & Carm is anxious as shit that Donna will pop up.

♡ W/C: 10,217

♡ Posted Date: 04/16/2024

♡ A/N: WOW It has been a second since TB&HH got some love but we are so back!! I am actually really excited about this chapter! It is very long as you see, and It took a few times of scrapping & rewriting, and then I finally just said fuck it and did what I wanted to do LOL. I have been writing so much SydCarmy i've been achingg for some loveydovey Winnie & Carmy so here I am! As per usual requests are open for SydCarmy, CarmyxReader - anything really!

♡ Warnings for BTC: SmutSmutSmut (breeding kinks mentioned, car sex) - Swearing, Fluffy mush, Smoking cigarettes, talks of alcoholism, drinking

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

Carmen and I had made it official 3 months ago now, and we were just as happytogether and obsessed with each other as the day we’d met. Today was the day that Natalie’s younger daughter, Briana or Bee as the family lovingly calls her would be getting Christened since she was officially a year old last week.

When I returned last month from nannying in The Hamptons, Carmen had taken an entire week off permitted by Sydney being back in perfect health - and we fucked and ate and did whatever we wanted for the entire week before I had to get back to work. It was fair to say we had missed each other terribly and he’d told me I ‘wasn’t allowed to abandon him like that ever again’ even if it meant he had to pay all of my bills.

I huffed frustratedly, my fingers beginning to cramp up from trying so many times to clasp on my simplistic gold St. Christopher medallion with my long french tips that Carmen had been insisting on paying for every 2 weeks.

“Bear! I need help!” I called out to him where he was in the bathroom ‘borrowing’ my gel to relax his frizzy curls that he had no time to blowdry this morning.

“what‘sup honey?” He asked as soon as I called, coming out to the bedroom where I was stood in front of my full-length mirror struggling to clasp my jewlery.

This is how he’d been for the past 2 months or so, I call, and he answers nearly faster then I can finish my request.

It didn’t matter what he was doing, not if we were in the kitchen (he did get a bit huffy if it was extra busy, but never mean, never ever mean.) But if we were at home? It was almost scary how fast he came to my call. I had even filmed a TikTok- jokingly saying-

“My man will blindly do whatever I ask of him- watch- it’s weird as fuck- but it’s super cute. He will literally toss out whatever he’s doing and do what I say. I think he’s over in the living room drawing right now- but watch…he’s gonna shove all his colored pencils n’ shit right in his case and barrel over here like a puppy. Watch this. -” I stepped into the hallway and flipped the camera “ oh - and he’s gonna say ‘I’m sorry’ cause he wasn’t here the second I asked him.” I whispered before calling- “ LLLLOVER?! What’re y’doin’s? Mon Ours?!” (My Bear?) down the hallway. ‘Huuuh???’ he called back ‘WHAT’RE Y’DOING LOVE?’ I called louder. I heard wooden pencils tinkling together and muttered curses for a few moments before he appeared at the end of the hall, coming up to me “Wha?” he asked, “M’sorry honey- I couldn’t hear over the TV-“ “What are you doing?” I asked “Uhhh…drawing? Why?” He asked “need something?” “No” I shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “Can you put it away?” I asked. “Oh- sure gimme’ sec” he walked off to the living room for a few moments and I flipped the camera back to me, “See he just does what I ask him to do what is this?! He just listens he’s the best listener-“ I whispered being interrupted by him asking “Hey Honey? D’you mean like away away?” He called “No just put up. come here” I called and he comes back to me, kissing my head “Are Y’Hungry? D’ya need y’r water filled? What day is it again? I didn’t forget plans did I?” he checked his phone and I rolled my eyes playfully “I just wanted kisses” I puckered my lips He gratefully partook, kissing my lips before pecking all over my face. “Did you get your period and are just needy for love and kisses or Is this a test?” I hit end on the recording, embarrassed by his stupidly good intuition.

It had gotten nearly 4 million views, and he was baffled as to why - when I explained the likely reason to him, he could barely understand that a lot of boyfriends didn’t give a shit about their girlfriends needs- at least to the level he does, so the way girls were thirsting after him in my comment section was new to him, and slightly overwhelming for me because it had been weeks and likes and comments were still pouring in, and there were lots of people that knew who he was. I had gotten at least 100 comments reading ‘is that like- THE Carmen Berzatto? Just…chilling in your house?!’

It was also kind of annoying because people kept asking to see him now since they either thought he was hot or they wanted him to talk about cooking, but I’d never ask him to. He isn’t my show pony, I know he’s hot and talented and smart and amazing and my absolute everything - and I’d love nothing more than to share all of that with the people who we’re asking, but I knew for a fact he didn’t like being on camera and wouldn’t be comfortable knowing 300 thousand people were gonna be seeing it- and possibly many, many more.

He thought it was sweet and funny that after when I told him I pranked him or more specifically, giggly telling him ‘you got-got bear, I got you so good’ that me ‘pranking’ him was asking him to put away his colored pencils and kiss me for the sake of it - when in culinary school his ‘friends’ idea of a prank was to dull out all of his knives so he’d have to spend nearly the whole day resharpening them and failing an assignment because of it.

“Oh, that? Here honey gimme” he takes the ends of the dainty chain from my fingers, standing behind me and clasping it easily before adjusting the charm gently to the middle before and kissing the top of my head. “Y’nails’re too long f’that Angel” he muttered, looking at the necklace in the mirror and rubbing over my lower stomach lovingly.

He did that move a lot ever since he started getting more comfortable when we made things official. Especially when he knew I was ovulating during sex. It drove me absolutely insane - he loved to do it while saying something along the lines of;

‘Y’want me t’fuck y’full pretty girl? Yeah? You wanna show everyone y’mine honey? Who you belong to princess? Are y’gonna have my babies? Mmm? Say it— Y’love it when I fuck y’like this, like a fuckin’ cat in heat. Ye’- is that it? Are you a filthy little fuckin animal? My pretty little pet?’

While he fucked me absolutely brainless. Before I went to my nanny gig, one day he peered over my shoulder while I was reading one of my fantasy books and saw the words mating press - he was immediately interested and very shyly asked what it was, before asking me to help show him what he needed to do to help me achieve that very position.

Surprisingly- after I had explained what the position was for in the books- it was the first time he didn’t quite literally leave or get overly anxious about the thought of us having children - even if it was just purely dirty talk. He just once again made sure that I was on birth control, and from there it became one of our very favorite positions.

I’d never fucked a man before that made me promise to have his babies someday before cumming in me as deep as he could and rubbing over my extremely vacant womb due to being so pussy-drunk. All while whispering how pretty I’d be swollen with his seed- worshiping me like I’d already been carrying the child- muttering about how hot it would be if I were to be all big-bellied carrying his baby. Maybe it was his kink? Surely it was just a kink and it was the moment talking not his actual desires.

It must be- because he’d been so adamant just a few months ago that he was ‘absolutely sure’ he didn’t want children so badly we nearly got into an argument over it when I asked him to just think about it outside of the realm of me. So he likely was simply turned on by the thought of a ‘nuclear domestic life’ just like any other person is.

“Thank you, you look so nice, Bear. I can’t wait until it’s over though cause I wanna touch your hair. Can’t though cause it has all the stuff in it” I said, turning around and gently pushing back the stray sticky curl that had fallen out of place and was laying on his forehead adorably.

“Mm Church isn’t my favorite pastime cause I have to have all the bullshit on. but you look…” he takes me in slowly, his hand sliding down over the curve of my waist. “Fuckin perfect. Can’t believe y’mine baby” he leans in for a kiss “wait- this stuff, can I kiss you?” He alludes to my lipstick which was likely about the same shade of red as my cheeks now due to his compliments.

“Find out” I said and pulled him by his jacket, kissing him deeply. He hummed, squeezing my bum and pulling my hips into his, squeezing them gently.

He was always extra careful to ask when I had makeup on and was getting ready to go out, that he could kiss me without messing anything up. He would sit and watch me do my makeup when going out for girls nights, so was very understanding and appreciative of the effort and time that went into it. He would help me pick out eyeshadow colors sometimes, but his favorite part was when I did lipstick. He tells me it ‘changes everything’ which makes me giggle, because that’s exactly what my grandma says.

I pull away after a few moments, “how’s the makeup?” I tease, checking in the mirror. “Lady Gaga knows what she’s doing babe” I gently dab below my lip with my beauty blender where he had gotten some of my foundation by mistake in the heated lip to lip transaction.

“The same one that did the poker face song?” He asked and I laugh a bit

“If that’s all you know her by then we still have a lot to learn about pop culture. But yes, the Gaga baby” I fixed up my lipliner a bit and he watched me in the mirror as I meticulously did so.

“Mm I remember that and the weird meat dress. Fuck you look amazing baby here lemme see” he turns me around when I put the pencil down, gently brushing my fringe from my eyes. “You are so beautiful baby, fuckin’ breathtaking” he kissed my forehead gently.

I smiled, holding his hands in mine and squeezing gently “you look very handsome baby, so handsome” I adjusted his tie and kissed his jaw gently. My alarm went off for 6:45 signaling it was time for us to leave, the sound causing me to jump a bit before I giggle shyly “Sorry. We’d better go” I grabbed my purse, making sure I had everything i’d need for the day.

“Y’still wanna get coffee honey?” He asked as he put his dress shoes on.

I nod “yeah- if I can get these stupid shoes on with this dress in time” I sat down on the bed slipping my foot in and trying to buckle the stupid tiny buckle with my nails, they were super pretty and Carm loved the scratches he got with them, but in terms of tiny things I always found myself struggling.

“Here-“ he knelt in front of me “Hold this Honey” he hands me the hem of my dress and I pulled it up for him. He carefully adjusted the straps so they were straight, before buckling it “that good? Y’want ‘em tighter?” He asks and I shook my head

“No- no. Thank you it’s perfect baby” I offer my other foot to him and he repeated the process. “You’re the best, Carmy, really. Sorry I keep needing your help when I go out” I said, kissing his cheek gently before he got up.

“Can’t blame yourself baby those things are… ridiculous. I dunno how they’re comfortable” he outstretched his hand to help me up.

I took it and kiss his lips lovingly once he pulled me up. “They aren’t. They just look pretty” I grab my purse once more, spraying on my perfume. “Now we’re ready” I said with a smile.

We got to the church with 5 minutes to spare before the service started, so we were able to find the back row where Richie, Eva, some random blonde that I’d assumed must be Eva’s mom, Syd, Fak, Natalie, and Pete, both of them with a kid in their lap were sitting.

Sugar spotted us first “Oh! Yay! You made it sweetheart how are you? You look so beautiful” she smiled

“Oh my gosh no way you all look so cute I love her little dress ohhh my gosh Carmy look at her!” I said happily

“Yeah - Hey, Uh- Moms not-“ Carmy asked her quietly.

“Bear - “ she almost laughed “She isn’t around until she can prove to me she's sober again” she said before turning to Fak who was sat next to her. “Honey, move down please! Look at all that row sweetheart” she nudged him with her elbow.

“Hi Winnie the Pooh” Fak said, sliding down enough for Carm and I to squeeze in next to sugar.

“Hey Neil! Hope you’re well it’s nice to see you.” I sit down next to Carmy, crossing my legs.

“So is she your girlfriend yet?” He asked Carmy, nudging his shoulder gently.

Carmy sighed deeply. “Yes, yes Fak. She’s my girlfriend. And we’re at church buddy. So it’s quiet time yeah?” He asked and I couldn’t help but stifle a giggle how he took after Sugars tone with him.

“Thanks Winnie nice to see You too- Your dress is pretty” he told me and I smiled

“Aww! Thanks bestie. Love the suit you look snappy” I said and held Carmys hand, kissing it gently.

“It’s great t’see you guys!” Syd waves and I lean forward to see her better - But Carmy didn’t even say anything.

I look at him, seeing he was totally not here. “babe” I ask and he breaks his spaced out gaze on the large stained glass window up front and looked at me.

“Mm?” He looks over at me. I rubbed his hand gently.

“Everything okay sweets?” I asked softly and he nodded a bit.

“Talk ‘bout it later” he said and squeezed my hand gently.

“Okay…” I said and hooked our arms together before relacing our fingers.

I watched as he went back to staring at the same stained glass window, and resumed that way throughout the entire service unless we were participating in something.

It worried me a bit, it seemed like he was disassociating - as to avoid what I wasn’t sure.

When we got back to the car I crossed my legs, buckling my seatbelt quietly and holding my purse in my lap. “What’s goin on baby?” I asked.

He shrugged, shaking his head a bit and starting the car. “Nothin.” He said plainly

“Mmm.” I mutter. “Funny cause you said we’d talk about it later” I said casually, pulling down the visor mirror on my side, reapplying my lipliner.

“Talkin ‘bout it now. And I said- nothin” he said shortly, starting the van and backing out of the parking spot.

“Ahhh of course because saying “nothings wrong” would have been too easy so instead- you added 3 extra words to tell me we’d talk about it now?” I pushed, carefully lining below my bottom lip.

“D’you ever drop anything?” He asked, annoyance lacing his tone.

“Mmm- no. I don’t..” I grinned teasingly

“It’s none of y’fuckin concern that’s what it is.” He said, rolling the window down and lighting a cigarette as we pulled up to a stoplight.

“Ohhh! Meeeeowww!” I teased, fishing my phone out of my purse. “Someone’s in a sour mood.” I tut, “I never got the invite to your pity party- did you forget about me lovey?” I teased.

He rolled his eyes, gripping the steering wheel with his right hand. “You love pushing my fuckin’ buttons.” He muttered before taking a drag.

“I loooove it. You know, you’ve yet to rage fuck me yet. Which is surprising- you’re 90% rage, and I’ve only gotten the 10% of soft.” I said, running my hand up his thigh until I got to his bulge, slowly stroking it over in his slacks.

“You couldn’t fucking handle it.” He said, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t fuckin test me.” He grumbled, flicking my hand into my lap and hitting the gas as the light turned green.

“Oh- oh- is that a challenge, Bear. You think I can’t take you? That I - can’t take you?” I scoffed, dropping my phone in the cup holder. “I find that a little rude. Where have your manners gone?” I drag my nails over the inside of his thigh, smiling to myself as his breath hitches. I knew he was stuck in a loop about something negative- and since he didn’t want to talk about it- he likely needed to fuck about it. It was a system we’d created- kind of an unspoken one. But he would ruminate, and brood like a big baby - if I couldn’t coax it out of him with my words, he’d probably been so pent up with nowhere to put it so he needed to release all those hormones before he could get it off his tongue. He always did, after a long day the pillow talk we had would usually be intense feelings of self-doubt and fear of the restaurant failing- even though it was never close to failing. He’s worried about who knows what and needs to escape with something he has that will remain consistent, and something very accessible- and that something usually happens to be me.

“I’m fuckin driving” he said, but his growing arousal beneath my palm begged for me to continue.

“Mmhmmm? And?” I asked, gripping him firmly at the base of his cock that was prominently showing now.

“Y’fuckin- Jesus Christ” he hissed, holding the steering wheel with a white knuckle grasp. “Such a little fuckin-“ he gasped lightly as I grip him tighter.

“What” I goad. “What? Finish the sentence, Carmy.” I tease, running my thumb along the vein I’d already memorized, feeling his member jump in the grip of my hand at the action.

“Dirty fucking whore.” He hissed, cheeks pink at the admission.

I giggled. “Awww- it’s nice to finally hear you say it” I teased, dragging the edge of my nail along his rock hard head

“J-Just-” he swallowed thickly, eyes locked on the road, refusing to break to meet my gaze

“Juuuust” I goaded, adding pressure and he whimpered

“Y’re fuckin evil” he said through clenched teeth, swallowing thickly and shaking his head lightly. “I said I’m fuckin driving.” he repeated, hips involuntarily bucking up into my grasp.

“So?” I asked, gently dragging my thumb over his waistband “Did you want me to stop, Bear?” I asked and he inhaled sharply, slightly shaking his head.

“Ohhhh-oh! So you like when i’m a dirty fucking whore for you?” I questioned, my hand stilling over his goosebump-ridden skin.

“Do what y’gonna fuckin do” he muttered, swallowing thickly.

“Fine” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt and pulling my skirt up my waist, slipping my panties and nylons down in one go after kicking off my heels into the footwell of the passenger side.

“What’re you-“ he glanced over at me as I hiked my right leg up on the dashboard after pushing my seat back to lay down.

“I’m doing what I’m gonna do. You said it yourself Bear - I’m a dirty fucking whore” I responded, angling myself so he could see and spreading myself out for him “so wet for you” I said in a sultry tone, gathering the sticky slick on my middle and forefingers, before bringing it right in front of his lips.

“Don’t you love how dirty I am?” I teased, rubbing the sticky arousal on his bottom lip

He flicked his cigarette out the window and opened his mouth, taking my digits in and sucking them, humming in satisfaction at the taste “yeah I know you fucking love it. It’s why we’re perfect together you’re just as much a freak as I am” I said, pushing my fingers further and he widened his jaw wantingly.

I gasped a bit as he bit down on my fingers “Such an animal” I giggle squeezing his cheeks and rubbing my spit slicked fingers down his chin when he released me

“You really wanna go right now when I’m tellin you I’m not in a good mood?” He asked

“If you’re in the mood- I want you. Otherwise no thanks but I think you’d have said something before now” I pulled my dress out of the way of my core. “You aren’t gonna look? You always tell me how pretty I am baby” I gently spread my folds, rubbing my wet cold middle finger over my clit gently “mmm it’s so much better when you do it Carmy, don’t you wanna touch me?” I begged

He glanced over at me, tugging his lip between his teeth as he fans over my position, eyes trailing down to my pussy.. “You can come up with what we were doin’ since you wanna be so fuckin’ needy and can’t wait a few hours. Little sex demon” he said, slowing down and turning into a post office parking lot that was deserted due to it being a Sunday.

“I wouldn’t be so needy if you didn’t look so angry and your arms didn’t look so good in that jacket” I said, crawling in the back and sitting on the floor excitedly

“One second anger scares you the next it turns you on- I can’t fuckin figure you out” he said, shutting the van off and getting out of the drivers side, and quickly opening and shutting the back sliding door when he got in..

“Yelling scares me but I think being your little stress toy is sexy cause you appreciate it” I lay back when he took off his jacket, laying it down for me like a pillow.

“Whats the word?” he asked before kissing my neck with nipping, hot, wet kisses.

“First - gentle on the neck and leaving marks baby were gonna be with your family, and second orchid” I assured and he hiked up my skirt.

“Good Girl” he said and spread my legs open, his tattooed hand finding my soaked core immediately and dragging his middle and ring finger up the slick, rubbing over my clit with quick light circles making my toes curl .

I gasped, already feeling like every nerve in my body was on fire. He had managed in our times together to memorize every single thing that made me creen in pleasure. He wanted me soaked before he’d barely even touched me, because that gave him the satisfaction of having memorized my body and the way it reacts to every little possible stimulation.

“Your good girl” I breathed, tugging up my skirt higher so he can kiss over my stomach and hips how he usually did, during moments of intimacy he wanted to feel and taste every part of me I would let him - it felt more like worshiping if I was honest with myself, but when I thought about it I would get way too worked up.

“That’s right princess” he gently nips on my skin. “How could I ever be rough w’you? Mmm? When y’so fuckin sweet? And so fuckin good f’me?” He hums, settling my thighs around his hips.

I giggled, breaking up the gel in his hair as he kissed over my naval and hips, and gently massaging his scalp. His eyes fluttered shut in bliss, his kisses slowing before resting his forehead on my stomach and letting out a satisfied sigh at the action “Youre gonna have freshly fucked hair” I teased.

“Don’t care. Mm keep touchin’ me please. Fuck baby-“ he rested his chin on my flesh looking up at me “I missed y’touchin me. So bad. Just touch me however you want” he begged, causing me to smile, a warm loving blush heating my cheeks.

“You like when I touch you?” I gently caress his cheek and he leaned into it like a man starved.

“I love it. I need it baby- really. I miss it so bad when y’cant.” He took my hand, kissing my palm. “I need you” he said softly.

I swallowed hard, trying to relieve the growing lump in my throat and I cupped his cheeks lovingly. “I’m always here” I said softly and pulled him into a sweet messy wanting kiss

I wrapped my arms around his back, gently playing with the hair at the base of his neck, smiling into his lips when I felt the goosebumps adorning his neck. “The reason we’re back here is cause I need you” I said sultrily in the shell of his ear, kissing his jaw gently.

“I know ‘m sorry” he unbuttoned his pants and I cup his jaw bringing his attention back to me.

“That’s not how I meant it bear” I said softly, gently moving his hands out of the way and unzipping them for him. “I love touching you, you know what right?” I asked as I untucked his shirt, gently running my hands up his toned stomach, feeling him lightly shiver beneath me

“Uh- yeah…yeah- I do- I just sometimes feel like…I dunno. I ask f’r too much” he said quietly

I rubbed over his abs, gently squeezing his hips and trailing my palms over his ribs beneath the loose fabric. “When do you ever even ask baby? I offer. I know you like it so I do it” I pull him closer, kissing the exposed bit of chest from the top 2 buttons being opened.

“Is it weird when I do ask?” he questioned softly and I look up at him.

“No. It’s not, it’s sweet and it’s healthy, Carm. It’s good to be loved” I gently kiss his neck and he guided me to lay, pushing himself free of his boxers and slacks, and lining himself up before gently pushing in.

I moaned out, locking my legs around his waist and pulling myself closer to nudge him deeper inside, arching my hips and whining as I feel the tip of his cock right over that spongy spot that made me sob and shake with pleasure

“You are fuckin greedy t’day Jesus Christ” he breathed, holding my hips for me “so fuckin pretty” he said as he pulls out halfway before rutting into that spot and I gasp sharply

“Fuuuuck oh oh- you’re fucked” I whine to which he chuckled, a satisfied grin on his face.

“You said you could handle this babe” he reminded, pushing in deeper but slowly as to not hurt me, resting his hand at the base of my stomach. “Fuuuck I love when y’let me have y’like this baby I can get so fuckin’ deep feel this” he said, taking my hand and resting it at the base of my stomach, slowly thrusting in.

I felt the movement beneath my hand, my jaw slack and the most lewd pornographic noises coming from my chest “s-so- so big” I whined out dropping my head back in bliss and eyes fluttering shut

“That’s right baby my good fuckin’ girl- my fuckin girl. Y’take me so fuckin well princess like Y’re fuckin made for me ye? Like y’re made t’take my fuckin’ cock? Mm? Made f’me to fill with my cum?” He asked as he started the relentless pace.

I couldn’t even think - I just nod quickly in response “made f-uckkk yes- yesyesyesyes made for you I’m yours” I slurred, reaching down and rubbing my clit causing me to clench around him tightly

He grunted, looking down and watching my fingers spreading around his cock as I rubbed myself “yeah? Y’like bein’ mine? Mmm? Y’like that I fuckin own this pussy? So goddamn greedy - needin’ me t’fill you up twice already today and it's not even lunch” He thrusts harder causing my back to arch sharply

Tears were forming in the corners of my eyes now at the waves of pleasure that were so intense the air around us felt like it was crackling with electricity. I opened my eyes once more to find his gaze locked on my cunt, mesmerized by the thick white strings of arousal sticking to the base of his cock before snapping as he thrusted in and out.

“Mmm isn’t it so fucking pretty were so pretty together baby” I moved my fingers faster, sitting up on my other elbow and nearly collapsing again at the new pleasure it brought.

“Woah” he noticed, quickly wrapping an arm around my back and my head drops back to meet his gaze as he stopped thrusting

“Fuck me oh my god fuck me- I- can you please? My- my knees can’t touch the floor my thighs are too short when I’m up on your lap you’re right i’m so fucking greedy for you I need you please fill me up please claim me”” I said in a needy tone, my breath rapid and uneven.

“You are going to be the death of me” he groaned, holding the backs of my thighs and sitting me up on his hips with his palms on my ass, before leaning on the back wall of the van and thrusting up into me, hard and fast.

My eyes nearly rolled back before closing, my jaw slack with pleasure. I nodded quickly, tears spilling over my cheeks as he continued. Fireworks and stars float behind my eyes and I clutch the seat next to us with a white knuckle grasp to have some tether to my body.

“So fuckin pretty” he grunted, fucking up into me harder “y’want me to fill this pretty pussy up? Mmm? Y’want me to fuckin make sure y’drippin the rest of the day? My little whore” he kissed my neck roughly and I couldn’t even warn him before my hips were shaking and my core was squeezing and releasing around him in a way that told him I’d reached my peak.

My whole body felt waves of heat rushing through, everything felt so good it was starting to feel painful but I couldn’t ask for him to stop- I wouldn’t. I had never felt so good before, physically, mentally, emotionally. I couldn’t stop it even if I tried. The words fell out of me before I’d even registered the thought wasn’t just a thought, and was really coming out of my mouth.

“I fucking love you” I cried out. 3 months. Three. That was it. That was all I’d had of him, and I’d known I’d loved him for probably 2 of those months. And had bitten my tongue and avoided the issue and successfully evaded his weird roundabout questions that would allude to me being in love with him until now. So if he didn’t feel the same, this was all we had, and all and would ever get.

“Shit. Say it. Say it again baby been wantin’ it so fuckin’ long now” he rasped. I opened up my eyes, looking up at him to see his gaze was locked on me, like I had hung the sun in the sky just for him.

“I love you Carmen.” I said honestly and he moaned, resting his forehead on mine, looking into my eyes. I smelt his minty breath mingling with mine, hot as it fanned my lips.

“Yeah? Say it- fuck- say it one more time angel” he said, hips stuttering and thrusts becoming more sloppy.

I cupped his cheeks, feeling as if we were the only 2 people left on earth and all we had was time. “I fucking love you, bear” I said while looking into his eyes and he whined quietly, spilling into me so much that it began leaking out onto his thighs and the curve of my ass before he even pulled out and drawing me into a deep, fervent, wanting kiss, wrapping his strong arms around me and keeping his cock nestled deep inside as we exchanged hot, loving, messy kisses.

“Do you- do you really?” he asked when we pulled away to breathe, both of our chests moving up and down rapidly.

I nodded, swallowing thickly “It- It slipped out…I didn’t mean to tell you like this - I wasn’t thinking- I know it scares you- I- I wont say it again if it-” he stops me by kissing me again, slipping his tongue over mine and wrapping me in a bear hug, leaning against the door and sucking on my tongue gently.

I hum in satisfaction, closing my eyes and letting him have me. “Say it whenever you want, please” he said softly when he finally pulled away.

“You- you don’t think you can say it?” I asked, biting the inside of my lip nervously.

I had a feeling he was in love with me, but I’d been here before with someone and the L word scared them off. But the guy has been essentially living with me since we started seeing eachother - what else would that be!?

“No - No…honey thats not- I-I love you - ‘msorry, I thought you could… that you could tell what else should I do?” he asked and I smiled wide.

“Saying it was the only thing you were missing- oh and maybe coming home on time once in a while to show me you actually like being there- but nothing to be sorry for, I see you baby” I assured him, gently kissing his sticky sweaty cheek.

I felt like I was in the most beautiful dream ever, There was nothing more that I wanted than him, and this.

He buried his face in my neck, sniffling softly and remaining quiet for a few minutes, before saying “We should go home and change, theres definitely cum all over that dress” he joked. His voice sounded slightly horse, and when I sat up to look at him he quickly wiped away a tear staining his cheek.

“I love you, and you don’t have to say it all the time baby - I’ll probably say it a lot more than you cause it’s just how I am, and I know you, and how you are. You show me with your actions how much you love me, and thats what I need. I know baby, I know you love me. I can tell you love me, every day” I wiped the stray tears from his cheeks with the pads of my thumbs, gently cupping his jaw.

“How could you know if I never said it?” he asked and rested his hands on my lower back.

I took a deep breath, sighing softly as I thought with a small smile on my lips “Lets see… you always make me lunch- and dinner - you always watch shows I wanna watch, you actually listen to me when I talk about them- and notice things, and ask me questions. You always say thank you, even for small silly things like when I rub your hair, or when I make you your coffee. You compliment my crochet and costume making, and ask me about the books I read. You bring Persephone little toys and treats on the weekends when you have to hang out with her while I do inventory with Sadie. You always push yourself for me- even though I never ask you to, like bringing me flowers- or that time you bought my perfume because it was getting low and didn't say anything? You show me, Carmy. Every day, to be loved is to be seen. And you are always showing me that you see things about me that I didn’t notice you could even see because I thought I hid them well enough” I asked and he nodded a bit

“Now that you mention it… I guess I didn’t know what it meant, I knew I felt for you like- differently… then anyone before. But I felt like it would be too fair to call it love” he said and I pout a bit

“What do you mean, fair?” I asked and he rubs up my back gently with flat palms

“Fair to me. I didn’t think that something that felt so good could be love, that it was like- the universe fuckin’ w’me again. And something er someone would take you away from me as soon as I called it love” he said and I gently kiss his chin, then lips, then the tip of his nose.

“Love can be scary, I keep waiting for me to do something and you just…turn. Like- like a monster or something. But it's not to do with you- because I can’t ever see you doing that, It’s just my past relationships scarred me so deeply that I'm just waiting. Like the day I dropped the cup at the restaurant, I thought you were gonna yell at me for some reason- even though you've never yelled at me. My ex would have yelled at me for hours over that- but you didn’t. You told me it was okay, and you cleaned it up and never rubbed it in my face or anything. That healed something in me, like- i’m not so scared to make a mistake around you anymore, cause it’s happened and you reacted healthily. So every time you think I'm going to leave, and I don't- it's going to heal a small part of a fear like that in you, and make this all alot less scary. At least- that's what my therapist says” I shruged a bit.

“I’m glad it’s with you. Being in love.” he said softly, eyes fluttering shut as I gently brushed my fingers through his messy hair to look a bit more contained.

I smiled, kissing his forehead gently “I’m glad too, Bear. I wouldn’t wanna love anyone else”

“Where the fuck have you guys been? Hey sweetheart- did you go back home and change?” Richie asks as we came in the kitchen.

I was baring a bouquet of flowers and Carmy was holding a 2 bottles of wine “sorry! Yeah my heels were bugging me it’s my fault” I said giving him a hug and he kisses my cheek

“You better not be pregnant yet the holidays are the worst time - also Richie will you quiet your loud mouth I just put Bee down” Natalie says as she comes by giving me a kiss on the cheek and ruffling Carm’s hair

“Wine? Look at you Bear she’s turned you into a real adult- takin’ gifts to parties like a big boy” she teased, taking the bottles and he rolled his eyes

“She’s not pregnant and you’re not funny” he took my hand, pulling me to him and rubbing my back gently.

That was another thing- the family now saw us as the next couple to get pregnant - even though we’d hardly been together a year - Because ‘they dont want our kids to be the only cousins being left out when the girls are older, I guess maybe I should take it as a good thing and being they’ve accepted me as one of theirs

“Let’s sneak t’the backyard before they can rope me in t’somethin yeah?” He whispered in my ear

“Okay” I smiled, kissing his cheek gently and lacing our fingers together as he leads us towards the back door

“Hey! Carm I didn’t know you were coming who’s this?” An older man says and I turned around

“I didn’t know you were comin’ hey Unc- this is my girlfriend, Winnie” he said and I smiled

“Hi” I wave shyly to the older man. I’d never seen him before, Carmy did mention though he had been paying an Uncle Jimmy back for money Mikey had borrowed for the restaurant but no one else - so this must be him.

“Ahhhh okay, Hello Winnie - what a name. You are just a sweetheart, Is this one treatin’ you good? I can knock some sense into ‘em. You ever need anything you come find Jimmy okay?” he teased and I smiled a bit

“He is nothing short of lovely but I promise I’ll pass word if that ever changes and take you up on the offer” I joked and he smiled

“She’s gonna fit in just fine here, Carm. Where’d you find this one?” He asked and Carm shrugged a bit.

“Just. Around. Moms not coming is she?” Carmy asked and I looked up at him

“Who knows kid. She told me she’s off the bottle but- who knows” he said with a shrug and Carm nodded a bit.

“Don’t tell ‘em where we went, please” he opened the back door, tugging me outside and shutting it behind us.

“If my mom comes we’re leaving” he said and I crossed my arms.

“You don’t want me to meet her but you love me?” I asked and he chuckled dryly.

He hadn’t spoken much about her, the most I’d known was that she’s a raging alcoholic- had driven a car through their family home at one point, but when Natalie had her first baby she cleaned up for about 6 months, then fell off again- and has been going months in addiction, then trying to clean up for a birthday or something like this, and the cycle maintains that way.

He digs his cigarettes out of his jeans, pulling one out. “I don’t want you to meet her because I love you. Don’t pull that. Is that gonna be a fuckin’ card for you now because I was honest?” He stuck it between his lips and lit it.

I felt my stomach twist. He was already starting to fly off the handle and say things he didn’t mean. That little comment would absolutely be a deeper conversation when we did get home - because I didn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

“A card?” I scoff “what do you mean card. This isn’t a game, Carm, this is our lives, There are no cards.” I took a deep breath to try and regulate myself. “You don’t really talk about her. And I don’t want to push you- but what is it is she mean? Is it just that you think she’s gonna hate me?” I questioned and he rubbed over his forehead, exhaling smoke away from us.

“Winnie it’s not even- this isn’t even the fuckin place t’talk about it. No she’s not- she’s not fuckin mean she just has issues okay. And she - she fuckin yells it’s more for your sake, she’s all fuckin loud and I don’t want her freakin you out and - I— I just don’t want her showing up and if she does oh well, we’ll be gone before she knew we were here. I don’t even want her knowing about you. Not right now at least. Whenever we get married or whatever the fuck - sure I’ll tell ‘er, but before then she just has the potential of fucking this up” he said before taking a long drag of his cigarette.

Of course. This was all leading back to his abandonment issues. Most of the issues in our relationship related back to my anxiety around death, and his anxiety around being left alone because he’s ‘not good enough’ in his mind. We couldn’t keep basing our relationship around fears or we’d never grow- so, I pushed.

“Your mom isn’t gonna scare me away. I don’t care if she is a screamer. My mom was a screamer. Chris didn’t have to deal with it- I did. By myself. So trust that I can handle it. I don’t want you getting comfortable yelling at me because I have to live with you. But I love you, and I love everyone else we’ve met in your family, and so I’m sure I will like her if she shows up.” I said and he shook his head.

“No. No. I don’t wanna hear what she has T’say babe. Good- thank you- I’m glad - I-I’m happy you aren’t gonna fuckin leave but I don’t want to hear her fuckin mouth, Winnie. Shes gonna have somethin to say about you, about us. And I- I can’t handle it. I care about you too much and I won’t be able to keep my mouth shut and I’m gonna ruin the entire night. If she chooses me the whole night will get ruined because if she chooses me you’ll start and then she of course can’t -“ he shut his eyes, breathing deeply.

He wasn’t budging about this, or even willing to compromise with me - and his telltale signs of a panic attack started to show, quick breathing, flushed skin, scrunched brows, literally shutting himself off by squeezing his eyes shut.

“Baby” I said softly, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around his middle. “We’ll go. We’ll go.” I assured him, gently running my finger over the bulging vein in his neck with a featherlight touch. “You’re so stressed love, breathe” I rub my palm gently over his racing heart.

“This is why. I can’t even fuckin think about it Winnie, I can’t” he wrapped his arm around my waist and took another drag of his cigarette.

I had to break this thought loop he was stuck in right now. I could see the gears turning in his mind, each and every worst-case scenario playing out in great detail like a film reel. It was something that my therapist had taught me during sessions and I had eventually picked up on, and started doing it with Carm. She would ask me a random question about something I love, so Taylor Swift, or Music Festivals, or Cats, and get me really into talking about it - and all the negative thoughts just snap away.

“How many kinds of vinegar are there?” I ask and he raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“Vinegar?” He asked and I nod.

“All kinds. Well- I’ll be fair I guess cooking kinds, are there other kinds?” I gently fixed his chain to face the front.

“Anything that is a fruit vegetable or a grain can be a vinegar, honey- why are you asking me this?” He questions and I shrug.

“Because I wanna know. So ew you can make onion vinegar?” I scrunch my nose.

“Uh-“ he took a drag of his cigarette “yes babe but…who the fuck would want that?” He asked, a small hint of a smile on his lips, my trick working as it usually did.

“What about balsamic vinegar, what is that?” I asked, sticking my hand under his shirt and holding his hip, stroking little lines into his skin with the pad of my thumb.

“It’s grape juice vinegar instead of wine vinegar to put it simple” he said and I nod

“You’re smart” I said, gently kissing his jaw “so so smart. It’s sexy” I said and he gently squeezed my bum

“What’s all the interest about vinegar babe you writin’ a book?” He teased and I giggle into his skin

“You’re not stuck in a loop anymore that’s what” I kissed down his neck. “And I was thinking about it in church. I was like what is red wine vinegar. Oh yeah and what is it?” I asked and he chuckled.

“Mmm so full of questions sweetheart. They take red wine, then they ferment it, and then they add a culture-“

“A culture like yogurt?” I asked and he hummed

“A culture like yogurt, that’s right little Sous someone’s been listening when I go on about work stuff huh?” He said, patting me gently.

I smiled proudly “I love listening t’you. Okay keep going smarty sorry for interrupting” I said and he threw his cigarette butt down into the ash tray on the rail before wrapping his other arm around me and leaning against the wall.

“Well not much else princess, they just ferment it and then add the culture then they put it in a barrel to ferment” he explained and the door opened

“Bear Richie needs your help he’s fucking everything up with the lamb can you please come in?” Natalie asked

“I literally sent him a text of what to do step by step” he huffs, “You wanna do the lemon zest honey?” He asked me as we went inside

“Sure, I’ve been told I’m you’re best zester” I teased and he chuckled as he rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands

“You are my best zester and my best girl.” He kisses my temple when I come next to him at the sink to wash my hands.

𝒞𝒶𝓇𝓂'𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱.🧸

After I’d dressed the lamb and put it in the oven, I went and sat on the couch with Sadie and Winnie who were deep in conversation about something I couldn’t even pay attention to at the moment. Because Nat had pulled me aside about 25 minutes ago to tell me mom is coming, but only for dessert- and only because she’s ’on the mend again.’ Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

She’d been ‘on the mend’ and uncountable amount of times since Natalie's kids had been born. Each time was unpredictable to say the least. I had completely given up on her ever becoming fully ‘healthy’ whatever that means, a long time ago. But if she would at the very least be honest and not have to make a huge scene of being removed when she shows up drunk after she swore she would be ‘sober as a nun’ that would be at the very least more respectable.

Natalie had begged me to stay. Said I was the ‘only one she’d talk to’ which felt like bullshit- because mom and I don’t talk. She talks and I listen - and I told her if she’s drunk we’re leaving. I have a bad feeling Winnie and Mom won’t take kindly to each other especially if moms drunk. Of course that wouldn’t be Winnies fault, but the point still stood strong. Also- Syd is here, and I don’t want Syd dealing with that. So if mom does show up - which I really hoped she wouldn’t and was just trying to give Natalie some false hope she still cared about the family at all since Mike did what he did - I’m taking Winnie and Syd and getting the fuck out of here..

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by Winnie laughing loudly “Sadie you are gonna piss him off stop” she rubs my arm

“I think it’s precious baby don’t listen to them” she said and I look up at Sadie who’s showing Syd a video on her phone and she gasps before slapping her arm and laughing

“Sadie stop!!” She laughs “A) he doesn’t carry a bag B) he doesn’t have a mustache- but everything else is accurate in that” she took a sip from her wine glass

“What? Are you making fun of me?” I asked and Winnie laughed a bit, a frisky grin on her face

“What!? Never baby it’s just a silly joke how we’re like..a common match I guess. It’s only a joke” she explained and I extended my hand

“Let me see” I told Sadie and she shook her head

“You weren’t paying attention so no” she teased and I roll my eyes

“Children” but I couldn’t help but smile a bit. That was something I did around Winnie a lot. Richie was right, she is very funny, in strange ways but she is. It’s more of a childlike randomness then anything else but it tends to really draw people in. It drew me in. I still hadn’t had a chance to ruminate over what happened earlier.

I do love her. I just feel scared that I said it, that now I did there really is another shoe waiting to drop. It almost felt like another secret, because if it’s not i’m gonna be drilled with questions. Questions that I likely don’t have the answer to and won't until I talk it out with my therapist like every other fucking thing in my life. It was starting to revolve around that woman. Or thats what it felt like. I’d been seeing an individual therapist for only 2 months out of the three we’d been dating. I’d started after breaking down in Nat’s car at 3 am that one time. She’d told me she was either dragging me there, or she ‘couldn’t be around me anymore’ because it hurt her too much to see me ‘spiraling out like Michael without the drugs’ .

I’d thought she was being dramatic, sure the only reason I broke down like that was Winnie, and I refused to stop seeing her so that would no longer happen - but I also couldn’t stand not seeing and talking to Nat so often, I forgot how much i’d missed her in New York and her …. nagging. Strangely enough.

“Bear-” I felt a grab on my shoulder and see Nat standing there “Let’s go outside yeah?” she said and I nodded a bit, looking over at Winnie

“Be back in a second yeah?” I kiss her head and she nods turning back to Sadie listening to whatever story she was telling her

I shut the door behind us digging a cigarette out and lighting it. “You’re quiet tonight” she leaned against the rail and watched me.

“A lot going on in case you haven’t realized” I muttered, taking a drag and looking down the street to avert her gaze. I wasn’t gonna go into everything right now, not here - and not when mom is gonna be here who knows when because she’s said that she was coming to dessert before and then came hours before expected because she thought Nat had told her 6 when she’d really told nat 8.

“Is it…Winnie?” she asked, and I suddenly felt annoyed at the thought that anyone could ever think she did something to me to intentionally make me feel this way

“No- no. Why would it be? Its fuckin mom. Winnie was all fuckin excited to come here and be here with all of you- because i’ve told you I don’t want her around mom- so since I was told she 100% was not coming I decided - oh how fuckin nice- she talks about never havin’ a fuckin family to do shit with, and never having been to a fuckin dinner like this- and now day fuckin’ of you drop on me she’d be here. If I’d have known, I’d never have come here. I’d never have told her. Because she loves to be apart and she - she wants me to feel good about shit like this but I can’t when mom’s involved. And now - it’s gonna be a whole fucking thing t’night when we get home. And its not her fault she sees when im upset, and its not her fault she can be normal when talking about shit like this. And its not her fault were all so fucked up. So it's not Winnie- Its us. Its who we are as a fucking family unit. So thats what it is, Nat” I said and finally looked over at her.

She sighed deeply, nodding a bit. “Shes smart, Bear. And strong as any one of us, i’ve talked to her, you know? More then just once. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and you’re a good person, Carm. She’s not pestering you, she’s worried about you. But we all know how you love worrying about your own shit so much that you can’t see the people around wanting to help.” she said.

“Thats why I don’t want her around mom. Because I know she wont be able to stand her, Nat. She’s….she doesn’t let peoples shit slide. And I’m worried because I can’t control her- I- I wont. It’s one of her…rules” I sighed a bit.

“She gives you….rules?” she asked.

“Not like that- just like- ‘do this and I’ll leave you without question this is your warning’ and one of ‘em is If I ever seriously try to control how she acts around anyone were done. Which I can understand shes a girl and all that” I stomp out the burning butt under my shoe.

“See- shes smart. And It will be fine as long as Mom comes sober and stays that way. She wont start anything with anyone as long as she is. Can you just please, please do me a favor and try to keep her away from the liquor, Carm? We’re putting it away before she gets here but… She can’t be around the kids if she drinks and Bee’s been fussy and I can't let Charlie see her if she gets drunk without anyone looking. I can’t keep an eye on her, but you can! Please Carm, please” she begged.

“No- No. Fuck no, actually. Fuck that- and fuck this, Natalie. No, I’m not leaving my fucking girlfriend alone tonight, so I can chase mom around the house to make sure that she doesn’t drink. I’ve told you. I don’t want to be a part anymore of her fuckin’ bullshit! What are- are you even getting out of this, Natalie? She’s not a grandmother, she’s an extra child you bring around presenting as a fuckin’ grandmother because you want y’r fuckin’ kids to have what we didn’t even have. Newsflash, Nat- To know how to be a fuckin’ grandmother? You need to have been a mother- something she’s never been good at. I’m glad you took me out here because the last thing I needed was mom showing up - and me being expected to play fuckin’ alcoholic sitter all night. Enjoy your shit show with mom”

I turned around, opening the front door and having every urge to slam it, but holding back and shutting it calmly. I leaned against it, taking a few deep breaths and rubbing over my face. If I go in theliving room steaming, Winnie’s gonna cause a whole fucking scene trying to calm me down, well- not a scene - but she’d notice how upset I was off the bat, and then i’d make a scene trying to convince her I was fine when that was the furthest from the truth and spiral out of control when she didn’t believe me.

This was not how this night was gonna go. Not if I could do anything to help it. If Winnie wanted to do a big fucking family dinner at Nat’s or Richies, or something. Hell, I’d buy a fucking house and throw a dinner party there with everyone if it meant I kept her from being apart of this god damned dumpster fire of a situation.

“Honey” I called from the hall, trying to keep my voice even and digging my keys out of my pocket.

“Comin’!” she called from the living room, a few seconds later showing up at the end of the hall and padding over to me with her glass of wine and her regular smiley warm demenor.

“Hey baby” I tried my best to put on a small smile, “Uh- I’m sorry…I’m not feelin’ good my stomach is feelin’ pretty fucked and I have bad heartburn, we’ll come back for the next one, yeah?” I told her, wrapping my hands around her hips and pulling her closer.

“Oh no! Sweetheart, you have barely eaten today mm? That may be why your tummy is buggin’ you. Lets get you something small before dinner and you can lay down and see if it passes? If not we can go, The lamb you made is smelling so good baby I wanted to try it, I’ve never had that before” She asked sweetly, gently rubbing my chest.

Damn her always having solutions.

“No- honey… please- please? I just wanna go home and lay down and watch our shows, I can’t even hold anything down right now- can we?” I asked gently, leaning against the wall.

Before she could even answer, my entire world spin and flew off of its axis. I wanted the ground to swallow Winnie and I up and send us somewhere that was anywhere but here. The entire house silenced, other then the near bane of my existence but also the unfortunate giver of life I was currently living out. “No! NO! If my SON doesn’t want to see me, He will TELL ME WHY Natalie! He can EXPLAIN HIMSELF! I am not a child! I can HANDLE MY OWN SON YOU MY FUCKED UP LITTLE WANNABE AS MUCH AS YOU TRY TO REPLACE ME - ARE NOT HIS MOTHER!”

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡

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dbnightingale24 · 11 months

Text

A Huckleberry Is Nothing Without His Hummingbird

A Lloyd Hansen Love Story/ Final Installment to ‘It’s Ridiculous But, I’ll Always Love You’

Part 2

Part 1

I am so sorry this took so long! Life has been out of control for a while (both in good and bad ways), but it’s finally here! I truly hope you enjoy this, because I loved writing it! Thanks, as always, to @fuckingbye for the amazing moodboard! I love it and I love you! As promised, this is much happier than the last Lloyd story, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 25,445 (look at me go!)

Warnings: SMUT (Minors DNI OR I WILL SNITCH!), 18+ ONLY, Fluff, Arguing, Couples Therapy, Angst, Drinking, Smoking, Family Drama, Lloyd Hansen (cause he’s a walking warning), Violence, Murder, Degrading Kink, Rough(ish) Sex, Daddy Kink, Child Trauma, Toxic Relationship, Healthy Relationship...I think that’s it?

Song(s) Used For This Chapter: To Know Me All This Time and Still Love Me...Well, That’s A Miracle

I do not give consent/permission for works/stories to be posted anywhere else. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

“You two can’t keep going on like this,” your couples therapist sighs, as you and Lloyd both sit in silence, both of you with one leg crossed over the other. “You two have been coming here for two months, and it’s the same thing every time.”

You can hear the frustration in her tone, and it’s not like you can really blame her. You and Lloyd have been doing couple’s therapy for 2 months now, and you’re both so damn stubborn, that you both refuse to say anything. It’s not like you don’t want to say anything but, as far as you’re concerned, none of this is your fault.

“I’m not having this argument with you again, Hummingbird!” Lloyd snapped softly as you both stood in the bedroom of the hotel room: your arms folded across your chest.

“You’re acting like our family wasn’t put in danger hours ago! Do you know what this is going to do to Travis?!”

“He’s safe, you’re safe, and Denny is safe! What else do you want from me?!”

“To fucking quit!”

“I promised you that I’d stop-”

“We were still a target! Was this a joke you?” you asked, holding up your fingers that wore his hummingbird engagement ring.

“You know it wasn’t!”

“Then why can’t just pick us?! Your family!”

“I took a step back! That was me choosing you all! Just because you’re not getting everything that you want, doesn’t mean I’m not making an effort!”

“I can’t do this with you, Lloyd. Not again,” you scoffed as you ran your hands through your hair.

“You’re not fucking leave me again, Y/N!”

“You can’t-”

“I can! You think I’m letting you leave me again?! You think you can walk out of my life just as soon as I got you back in it?!”

“You never let me go, Lloyd” you scoffed, your voice rose just a bit more than you meant for it to. “You have been everything to me for forever and-”

“You’ve been everything to me-”

“I clearly haven’t! You still can’t just choose us as your top-”

“You still need to give me some space to be me, Hummingbird!” he yelled.

“This is the same shit it always is,” you scoffed as you kicked your shoes off. “God, why do you I love you? Why do I keep putting up with this shit?! I was finally fucking out-”

“Watch it, Y/N.” Lloyd warned with a growl and you rolled your eyes.

“Or what? Just what will you do?! Actually let me get shot next time?!”

Almost instantly, he had you pinned against the wall, with his hand around your throat.

“Don’t ever say something like that to me again! You fucking understand me?!”

“Why?! What’s so wrong with it?! Staying with you makes me just as good as dead anyway!”

“You don’t think I’m doing everything in my power to keep you and Travis safe?! You don’t think-” “No Lloyd! No I don’t! I don’t believe you! Not anymore! You say you love me, you want us to work through our issues, but it’s all bullshit! Make me believe you, because right now?! Right now, it’s all just bullshit to me!”

Lloyd didn’t say a word, he just crashed his lips into yours and, just like that, you were gone for him.

No, it wasn’t healthy and you both knew you were falling back into your old habits, which is why you brought up therapy. At first, Lloyd was dead set on not going.

“We don’t fucking need couples therapy,” he muttered as you started cleaning off the dinner table.

“Well, we fucking need something, because this isn’t working for me. This isn’t college, Lloyd. We can’t just fuck our feelings away and avoid the problems that are staring us in the fucking face.”

“We can work out our problems on our own!”

“Keep your fucking voice down! Travis isn’t asleep!” you snapped quietly, trying to keep your own emotions in check.

“Hummingbird-”

“I want us to go to therapy, Lloyd. You’re hellbent on keeping your stupid fucking job? Well, I’m hellbent on doing therapy,” you shrugged, leaning against the sink.

“Humming-”

“Lloyd, we do therapy or I walk. It’s that simple.”

“Don’t fucking bully-”

“I’m not bullying you into shit. You want us to work out? You wanna keep working? Then I want therapy.”

“You can’t-”

“Therapy or I fucking walk, Lloyd. I’m not going through this shit with you.”

At first, he was furious and didn’t speak to you for a week, but once he realized you weren’t backing down, he finally agreed. Denny suggested a therapist that works with the agency and that settled it.

Which is why you’re both currently sitting in the therapist’s office, stubborn and unwilling to break first.

Well, you were until now.

“Lloyd’s a selfish piece of shit, and I’m tired of it,” you shrug as Lloyd scoffs.

“I’m selfish?! You’re the one forcing me to do this shit or you’ll leave-”

“And why is that, Lloyd? Hmm? What fucking got us to this point?”

“Don’t.”

“You’re fucking job! Your son almost got killed and it’s still not enough for you to get your fucking shit together!”

“Okay, okay, lets back up for a second,” the therapist interrupts, happy to finally be getting somewhere with the two of you. “When you two talk about Lloyd going into another line of work, how do those conversations usually go?”

“He says no and that’s the end of the discussion,” you mutter.

“Bullshit! We argue, you tell me I’m an asshole, and-”

“And you keep your fucking job! I’m dramatic and whiny little bitch-”

“You’re acting like-”

“Lloyd, Travis almost died! Someone shot at us at fucking Disney! For fucks sake, you won’t even let me home school him!”

“He can’t just run away from his-”

“He’s not running away from shit, Lloyd! He’s fucking scared, he’s lonely, his friends don’t invite him over anymore, because parents aren’t too keen on their children hanging out with other kids that tend to get shot at-”

“He needs to be a man-”

“Lloyd, he is a 9 year old boy! He’s not you! He has every right to be afraid, because he’s been through hell! No one invites him to anything anymore! At least you have Denny! Travis only has us, and that’s a lonely fucking life!” you snap, wiping your eyes as you look out the window.

Lloyd’s silence lets you know that you’ve got him, and while you feel bad about hurting him, you need him to understand where you’re coming from. You need him to understand that all of this is taking a toll on both you and Travis.

“Lloyd, have you looked at all into a career where you’re not putting yourself at so much risk? Your family?”

“No, because there’s no point,” he sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Lloyd, I’m sure Denny-”

“Denny knows there’s only one job I’m suited for, and that’s why he assigned it to me in the first place. Listen, it’s not lost on anyone in this room that I’m difficult at best, but I do love both Y/N and Travis more than anything in this world. I will keep you both safe-”

“And what about when you’re not home, Lloyd? What then? Because the last time...” you trail off as your tears start to flow freely.

For fucks sake.

“Hummingbird...that wasn’t your fault-”

“I had him that weekend, Lloyd. He was my responsibility, and...we almost lost him, Lloyd. I can’t...the stress of your job always falls back on the both of us, and I could handle it before. Even after the divorce, I had no problem with making excuses, stressing myself, losing sleep...it was all doable, because Travis was safe. Now? Lloyd, it’s just too much. I’m always worried about you, but now...your enemies have no reservations about going after your family. I know how much you love your work, how proud you are, and how good you are at it, but this isn’t going to work if you keep taking and giving nothing back. That’s what killed us before and it’s what will kill us this time, if your enemies don’t first.”

“You know that I can-”

“But Lloyd, you can’t. You can’t keep us safe, that’s already been proven! I don’t blame you for Travis, I honestly don’t. However, with that being said, you’re not home all the time, and it’s only worse with your job. Whether it’s you being away, or you making more enemies...there’s just no way it works unless we get a-”

“Do not finish that statement.”

“Well, what do you expect, Lloyd?! At some point, you need to come to terms with the fact that you can’t do the job you’ve been doing, and be a family man! You have to make a choice and I don’t want that choice being something that makes you regret Travis and myself!”

“That would never happen,” he sighs, leaning back and staring at his hands. “Why can’t you just trust me? I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve never-”

“Lloyd, this has nothing to do with lack of trust. I trust you more than anyone else in the world, which is probably a horrible decision, but it’s a fact. However, another fact is that you just can’t be two places at once. You can’t protect us when you’re not home.”

“You know-”

“Don’t you dare,” you warn with a sniffle. “I never signed up for this. It was a roll that I was forced to take! I have had miscarriages, my weight has been up and down for years, I have severe panic attacks that usually end up waking me up in the middle of the night, my hair falls out from stress...Lloyd, I love you, but I shouldn’t have to take on a roll I never asked for!”

“You could’ve left!”

“I did! I left and what did you do?! Find new ways to hurt me, ruin any potential for other relationships, beg me to take you back-”

“Hummingbird, I’m trying!”

“I never said you weren’t!” you sob, wiping your eyes again.

The therapist looks from you to Lloyd, writes something down, and then sets her notepad down.

What the hell does that mean?

“Lloyd, why can’t you just walk away from the job?” she asks after a moment. “What is it that makes it so hard to leave?”

“Because he doesn’t care about anything except what he wants,” you mutter with a sniffle.

“That’s not fair,” she quickly tells you, and while you know she’s right, it doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes, “give him a chance to explain himself.”

“She knows that’s bullshit,” he mutters before taking a deep breath. “I’m good at a lot of things, it’s just something that comes to me. On the rare occasion that I’m not good at something, I work my ass off until I am. That being said, besides being Y/N’s husband and Travis’ dad, my job is what I’m the best at. Hell, it’s not like I can even say that I was the best husband, because Y/N was going through hell and I didn’t even notice. I’ll never be able to apologize enough for that, but I can do my best to protect and keep them safe. No, it’s not the most ideal job and she’s always taken issue with it, but it’s one of the few times I feel normal. Everyone knows I have a reputation for being a sociopath, even you,” he nods towards the therapist, who shrugs with a head nod in response, “but this job? It was made for me. I’m in charge, I know what to do, I know how to keep my men in check, and it helps me keep my rage at bay. Without this job, I don’t know how to be a decent husband, let alone a decent Dad. The only reason I was never kicked off the football team was because of how good I was. My coach got so many complaints about how violent I was...it’s not like Y/N didn’t know any of this. She may deny it, but I’m more than sure it’s part of why she hung around. It was fun. I was fun and I’m not stupid, I know that as you get older, the fun starts to die away and you want stability, but she never left. Even with me accepting a job with the CIA, she still accepted my proposal and married me.

I know we have Travis now, and he’s our entire universe, but I’m still the man she fell in love with in college. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, but I’ve never lied about any of it. If she could accept it then, at the beginning of our relationship, our marriage, and even when she had Travis, why not now? I know we’ve been through a lot, and I know it’s because of my job, but it’s nothing new. Yeah, it’s a lot to ask, but I’ll do anything either of them asks if I can just have this one thing,” he promises, his voice cracking slightly.

You know it’s because he’s finally coming to terms with the fact that he won’t be able to have the best of both worlds, and his heart is breaking just as much as yours is.

“We’ve reached the end of our time, but I think it’s very obvious to all of us that we’ve made progress today. I wanna give you two an assignment.”

“Fucking great,” Lloyd mutters.

“Stop it!” you snap.

“Try and go away for the weekend. Just you and Lloyd. Go away for a few days and talk. Really talk and maybe make a pro and con list about your relationship. It sounds silly, but it’ll help you both figure out if this relationship is something you should pursue or not.”

“We both want-”

“I didn’t say anything about ‘wanting’ the relationship, Lloyd. It’s obvious to anyone who looks at the two of you, that you two are deeply in love, but that doesn’t mean you two belong together. You two need to spend time alone and figure out if getting remarried is in both of your best interests. If it’s in Travis’ best interest,” she urges sincerely. “Now, our next appointment won’t be for another two weeks-”

“Two weeks?!”

“It’s not my fault that it took you two, two months to finally open up,” she snaps at him and you do nothing to hide your snicker. “We’ll meet again in two weeks, and we’ll go from there.”

“This is bullshit.”

“You really need to work on your ‘it’s all about me’ attitude, Lloyd,” she scowls. “I’ll see you two in two weeks.”

“Sounds good,” you smile at her as you and Lloyd both get up.

As you two make your way out of the building, Lloyd takes your hand in his and it just makes your heart break even more, because you know he’s trying. Hes always been trying, but you’re both coming to the painful realization that this just might be the end of the road for the both of you.

The car ride home is quiet, but Lloyd doesn’t let go of your hand for even a second. Every now and again, he gives a meaningful squeeze, but you both know it’s gonna take more than that to fix where you two are at.

“I can order dinner,” he offers as he pulls up to the house, that you occasionally call a home. “You’ve been making lunches and dinner ever day, it’s the least-”

“Travis prefers home cooked meals. After everything, it’s the least I can do to-”

“I know you’re tired, Hummingbird. You work hard and you-”

“I’m not really working hard, am I? I don’t have a job anymore-”

“It’s a suspension-”

“They fired me, Lloyd. They’re just being nice about it, because what happened on that call wasn’t actually my fault. However, the client was spooked and no one wants to work with someone who’s a risk of others getting injured or killed, so...”

“Hummingbird, I’m trying.”

“We both are, Lloyd. Just because we’re both trying and love each other, doesn’t mean-”

“But why can’t it?!”

“Because you can’t be the king of everything all the time!” you yell, your tears coming freely as you throw your hands up. “You need to control everything and I need some stability. Things aren’t going to just sort themselves out because we want them to! You think I want to break up again? You don’t think I wish that we could just magically figure this all out? I’m so madly in love with you, but I don’t love the life we live! Travis is in trouble every other day, he’s scared, the only time when we aren’t arguing is when we’re fucking...this isn’t working, but I don’t have the strength to walk away! Not again, because the problem wasn’t that we stopped being in love, the problem was your job and you inability to see past your own wants! I don’t know what to do anymore, Lloyd! Being without you is hell, but so is being with you and I just...I don’t know what to do anymore,” you sigh, wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Now, lets get inside and take care of our nine year old son, whose grounded...again.”

“Wait, what? Why?” Lloyd asks, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes.

“He got into another fight at school.”

“Jesus Christ!” Lloyd yells, getting out of the car and slamming it shut.

“Lloyd, stop it!” you yell, quickly getting out and running after him.

“No, he needs to stop with this shit! He can’t keep getting into fights! With how much money we fucking pay?!”

“Look who’s talking! Lloyd, I will handle this! Don’t go in there and-”

“TRAVIS!” he yells as soon as he steps foot in the house.

Great.

“What?” Travis scowls from the dining room table, not even bothering to look up from his book.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me! What the hell is wrong with you?! Another fight?! We just had this talk two weeks ago! Are you trying to get kicked out?!”

“I’m sure you can donate more money and fix it, just like you always do.”

“Your attitude is starting to become a real pain the ass!”

“Both of you stop it!” you yell, trying to stop the argument before it escalates any further.

“Don’t you have another job to leave for? You always have someplace to be that isn’t here with us, so why aren’t you there now?” Travis scowls, still not bothering to look up.

“THAT IS ENOUGH! THE BOTH YOU, IN THE LIVING AREA, NOW!” you yell, officially at your wits end.

Neither of them says a word, they both just roll their eyes and make their way over to the area.

God help you.

“Listen, I know this family has been through a lot, but the way the both of you speak to one another is not okay! Travis, you know good and damn well that you’re never allowed to speak to your Father like that! Lloyd! What the hell is wrong with you?! You don’t get to speak to him like that when you’re barely ever even home and you don’t know the full story! Travis didn’t even start the fight, he just finished it! He’s been getting bullied, a lot-”

“What?! Why didn’t-”

“Lloyd, you’ve been busy and haven’t had much time to talk-”

“I would’ve made time!”

“You never have before!” Travis interjects angrily.

“Travis, enough! Upstairs!”

“But Mom-”

“Go! I’ll deal with your Father, you need to go upstairs and cool off!”

Travis sucks his teeth as he gets up and makes his way up the stairs, stomping loudly, and it takes all you have in you not to yell at him.

“Something needs to be done about his fucking attitude,” Lloyd scowls and you roll your eyes as you make your way into the kitchen. “What?!”

“You were out of line, Lloyd. If I were Travis, I’d have the same fucking response.”

You grab the largest wine glass you can find and fill it, as you take your hair out of a ponytail, trying to figure out when exactly the house became a war zone.

Lloyd lets out a heavy sigh before grabbing a bottle of bourbon and a glass to go with it, before leaning against the counter top, “what happened?”

“Travis had a panic attack during his Math class. He gets skiddish when he hears loud noises, any type of a loud boom...he’s scared. The other kids know what happened, of course, so they pick on him because kids are devils. Anyway, there’s one kid in particular that keeps picking on him and he’s the one who triggered his panic attack.”

“So, some little shit triggers his panic attack and Travis gets suspended?!”

“Yeah well, Travis broke the kid’s nose and gave him a black eye.”

“Sounds like he let the kid off with a warning.”

“Lloyd.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“When? You’re never here, and when you are, you’re in a shitty mood. Every time I brought it up we ended up arguing. Big shock there.”

“That’s why you want to home school him,” he sighs rowing a hand through his hair.

“Lloyd, you’re never around. Even with you taking on desk work, you’re still gone. I can’t keep seeing him heartbroken like this. He’s gonna end up like us, for fucks sake.”

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“Lloyd, he’s not like you and me. Yes, he’s always had issues with his temper, but never like this. He’s angry all the time, and if he’s not angry, he’s upset. And if he’s not upset, he’s a recluse. That’s not our son and you know that. This isn’t his personality at all.”

“I want to fix this-”

“Then be here, Lloyd. It’s that fucking simple.”

“I don’t wanna argue, Hummingbird, alright? I’m imagining that there’s a meeting we need to go to?”

“Tomorrow at 1. I’ll let you know-”

“I’m going with you.”

“That’s definitely not a good idea,” you scoff before taking a giant sip of your wine. “I’ll handle it-”

“I’m his Father, Hummingbird. I should be there and you don’t have to keep doing all of this by yourself. You want me to be there, so I’m gonna try my hardest, okay? I know you don’t think so, but you and Travis are the center of my universe and I know...I know things have to change,” he mumbles, turning and caging you between his arms. “I’m trying, Hummingbird. We both want this-”

“Lloyd, we are both too old and I am too tired-”

“I can get this right, Hummingbird. I need to get this right,” he promises softly as he rests his forehead against yours. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Lloyd.”

“Sleep in our bed tonight,” he begs softly as his hand travels under your shirt.

“Lloyd, don’t.”

“It’s been weeks and I miss you. You know I’m sorry and how much I love you.”

“We can’t just fuck-”

“We’re not. I’m not just trying to fix what’s wrong with us with sex. I fucking miss you. I miss hearing you come alive for me, getting lost deep inside of you, “ he presses as he squeezes your hips.

“Lloyd!” you gasp, trying to keep your voice down.

Having intimate moments in random parts of the house is a lot harder when your child can make his way down the steps with ease.

“Tell me you’ll sleep in my bed tonight,” he continues to beg as he starts to kiss and suck on your neck, “our bed.”

“Huckleberry!”

“Tell me you’ll-”

“MOM!” Travis calls from the top of the steps as Lloyd backs away a little and throws his head back in frustration, “I need your help with this essay!”

“I’ll go,” Lloyd breathes as he rests his head against yours.

“No, he called for me-”

“He and I need to have a talk anyway. You stay here, think, get started on dinner...whatever you wanna do. I’ll go.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, before quickly turning and leaving, which leaves you all alone with your thoughts. You’re quick to rifle through your purse, pulling out your pack of cigarettes and a lighter, before grabbing your glass and making your way outside onto the back patio.

Taking a seat at the head of the outside dinner area, you light a cigarette and think about your relationship with Lloyd.

Both the good and the bad parts.

However, you feel the same thing you always feel when you think about the two of you (which has been a lot lately), and you come to the same conclusion every time. You can’t bring yourself to hate or regret any of it, and you can’t convince yourself that it’s truly time to call it quits. Yes, Lloyd can be a monster and hot headed but, in the spots reserved for only you and Travis (and you guess Denny), he’s the most amazing man you’ve ever met.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t turn it off, and you’ve been trying for years.

“I can tell that you’re upset with me, Hummingbird,” Lloyd chuckled as he laid down next to you on your bed.

“All the guy said was hi-”

“I didn’t like how he said it. You’re my girl and he should’ve known to keep his distance.”

“I’m not your anything. We fucked once and have been on a few dates. That doesn’t make us official.”

“You hate that you like me so much don’t you?”

“And what makes you think that I like you so fucking much?”

“Well, for starters,” he smirked as he sat up, “you’re getting worked up and that’s not like you unless you’re caught in a lie. Two, I sent those flowers to you two weeks ago, and they still look brand new. You wouldn’t care about them if they didn’t mean so much to you.”

“And how do you know so much about me?”

“Because I’ve been watching you.”

“Lloyd-”

“And you fucking like it, so don’t give me any shit. You’re not as oblivious as you like to seem. You know just as much about me as I do you. I’m territorial-”

“I’m not your fucking property, Lloyd.”

“No, you’re not property, but you are my girl.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“I know you’ve been watching the time, so I know you know it’s 1am.”

“So what?”

“So, you haven’t kicked me out, and you don’t want to kick me out, or you would have already. In fact, you haven’t even hinted at wanting me to leave.”

“Maybe I just like looking at you, Hansen,” you shrugged as you finally turned all of your attention towards him.

“Or maybe,” he smirked as he hoisted you up just a bit before forcing your legs around his waist, “you love the way I fuck you, just as much as I love fucking you.”

“I don’t love anything about you,” you moaned as ground your hips against his, clawing against his arms as you wordlessly begged for more.

“You love how I make you feel and that’s all I need for now. Until you’re ready to tell me, Hummingbird,” he mused as he ripped off your panties,

“Lloyd-”

“You tell me to stop and I will. I’m not going to take anything you’re not willing to give,” he smirked as he started stroking your clit with his thumb.

“You still hook up with other girls so I don’t know-”

“You say the word and I’ll stop. You just have to tell me how much you like me,” he teased, rubbing your clit a little faster.

You knew he had you, because no matter how hard you fought it, you really did like him. Yes, there were a million things wrong with him, but the way he treated you...

The flowers, the attention he paid to things that made you laugh and smile, the way he’d stay late with you at the library when you insisted on going over all your notes one more time even when he had an early practice or game the next day, how he’d stay on the phone with you even when you were asleep....yes, there were a lot of flaws with Lloyd Hansen, but they all seemed to melt away for you. He was notorious for treating women like trash, you’d seen him lose him temper on the field, you’d heard about the fights he’d gotten in over the smallest things. Hell, he’d just punched a guy in the face a few hours ago because he didn’t like how close a guy was standing next to you at a fucking frat party.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop being so fucking smitten with him.

“Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it,” he promised as he dipped down and kissed your hip bone.

You weren’t ready to tell him that you wanted him to be yours and yours only, so you instead you said, “make me feel better.”

You saw the flash of pain in his eyes, but he masked it well and started to kiss up your body. The kisses weren’t anything like the ones he gave you the first time you two hooked up. Granted, it had been over a month since you two fucked at the frat party held in his frat house, but you still remembered every touch and kiss like it was yesterday.

“Lloyd,” you moaned as he started to lick and suck on your hipbone.

“Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do it,” he promised before dragging his tongue up your torso. “I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“I just wanna feel you,” you whimpered, losing all resolve as you felt yourself come to life for him.

“Always in my fucking crew neck,” he growled as he sat up, taking his hoodie and throwing it to the side, “it drives me fucking insane.”

“Take it back,” you moaned, pulling it over your head, taking his lead and throwing it on the floor.

“Fuck, no bra, baby? What took you so long?”

“I just wanna feel you right now,” you begged, pulling him close and kissing him passionately.

“I’m all yours,” he husked as forced his sweatpants down, “I belong to you and you only,” he promised as he pushed himself inside of you.

“Fuck!”

“You want me to make you feel better, Hummingbird? I’ll make you feel the best you’ve ever felt,” he promised before he captured in a soul stealing kiss.

In no time at all, you were moving your hips with his, gripping his hair tight as you pulled him close with your arms.

“Tell me how much you’ve been thinking about me,” he begged as he picked up his pace, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead to yours.

“Every day and every night,” you confessed, your walls tightening around him as you tried to fight off your release.

“Best pussy I’ve ever been in, did you know that, Hummingbird? Did you know that no other pussy milks my cock like yours? No one makes me feel like you do,” he groaned before he licked the side of your cheek with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck!”

“I’d do anything to make you happy, Hummingbird. Anything to keep a smile on that gorgeous face of yours!”

“Lloyd...please!”

“Gonna fuckin’ make you mine, baby! Gonna make you happier than you’ve ever been and I’m gonna keep it that way!”

“Shit!” you cried out, toes curled and back arched at the words the words he said.

The promises he was making.

“I want you to cream on my cock, Hummingbird. I’ve been thinking about it since the last time I had you in my bed, and I need it so fucking bad,” he growled as he picked up his pace, “I fucking need you!”

“Need it! N-n-need you!”

“Fuck! C’mon, give it to me! I’ll keep you up all night, I promise!”

You couldn’t have held on if you tried. His name left your mouth like a desperate plea as you squirted hard on his cock, gripping his hair harder than you meant to.

“You’re a fucking dream,” he groaned as he filled you up.

Why couldn’t you stop your mind, body, and heart from desiring him in the worst ways?

“Don’t think about anything else right now, Hummingbird,” he cooed as he rode out your highs, “just be here with me, baby.”

You had no choice but to obey.

He was a good as his word and kept you up, being so insanely sweet and gentle with you, like he needed you to believe that this wasn’t just about the chase with you. He needed you to feel that it was more than just mind numbing fucking. You let him stay and hold you close that night, and it was the best you’d slept since the first time you two hooked up.

You like to lie to yourself and say that you don’t know why that memory holds so much weight with you, but you know it’s bullshit. Everything he said that night...everything he did...Lloyd let you know in his own way that his feelings were real, and you let yourself quietly accept that yours were real too.

You let yourself finally accept how much you truly cared about him.

Cared for him.

However, for as much as they memory warms your heart and makes you smile, the one that follows leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re ready to punch Lloyd in the dick.

“The fuck are you so mad about, Hummingbird?!” Lloyd yelled/slurred as he followed you around his frat house, drink in hand, as you stumbled around to get away from him.

“Fuck off, Hansen!”

“The fuck did I do?!”

“Besides go upstairs with half the women at this party? Nothing!”

“So you do like me,” he smirked as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to a stop.

“I fucking hate you!” you yelled, slapping him so hard he dropped his drink.

“Fucking bitch!”

“FUCK YOU!”

You two weren’t even a couple, but you were already arguing as if you two had been married for 50 years.

“Why the fuck shouldn’t I have any fun?! Huh?! You keep saying that this is nothing, so why shouldn’t have all the fun I want?!” he roared as he followed you into the kitchen.

“Ya know what, Lloyd? Fuck whoever you want! Fuck until your dick falls off! I don’t give a single fucking shit!” you yelled as you made yourself a drink.

“You clearly do if you’re yelling at me in my own goddamned frat house!”

“Oh? It’s your frat house? Did your daddy buy it for you, you spoiled fucking prince?!”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! I can’t fucking make heads or tails of you! You say you don’t want this, but you get fucking pissed-”

“Why should I give you a fucking chance, Lloyd?! You say and do all of these things, and when you don’t get immediate results, you go and fuck around! So, what exactly is my incentive to date you? Give you a chance?!”

“Fucking come off it, Y/N,” he scoffed, “don’t blame me for the fact that you’re scared! You put up walls and make things complicated-”

“Then work for it! Fucking work for it you giant fucking child! I didn’t go after you, you came after me! You want me? The fucking earn me!”

“Why should I have to earn what you so willingly gave me in this very kitchen,” he chuckled with a smug grin.

The slap you gave him after that comment was probably the hardest one you’d ever given him.

“I fucking hate you. Know that I mean that with every fiber of my being. I hate you and I don’t ever want to see you again,” you sobbed before grabbing your drink and stormed out, Tina at your heels.

Of course, Lloyd refused to leave you alone. Whether it was having the men’s quartet at your classes and singing you love songs, having dozens of flowers sent to your dorm daily, or leaving romantic love letters left at your dorm every day, Lloyd didn’t let up. He kept at everything for months until you finally agreed to go back out with him.

You’re not sure if it was sheer irritation that got you to say yes, or the fact that you just missed him, but whatever it was you took him back. For better or worse, you took him back and decided he was worth all of the hell he put you through and that it was tolerable.

That being said, that was the outlook for the rest of your relationship.

Lloyd doing whatever he needed to, to invoke some sort of emotion out of you, so that you’d just admit that he’s all you ever wanted. Yes, it was toxic and you should’ve walked away in that moment, but the man made it impossible. You’d met your match in every way possible. Knowing that should’ve been enough for you to walk away, but it wasn’t and you hate that you can’t blame that on Lloyd. Yes, there were multiple options for you to just walk away, no matter how consistent Lloyd was, but you still made the decision to stay.

Even now, you can’t blame Lloyd for all the hell you go through. You always have an out, and if Lloyd truly believed you wanted to leave, he would let you. Yes, there would be the pain of him seeing you whenever you picked up (or he dropped off) Travis, but Lloyd has always been respectable enough to give you space and/or peace. As much you’d love to put your stress and anger on him, you know you can’t. You made your own personal hell and now you have to make a choice:

Do you keep trying to create a future that will no doubt be stressful but loving and worth it in the end, or do you keep following down the a path that just leads you to stress and frustration? Only time will tell and only you will be able to decide if it’s all worth it.

But fuck it all if you don’t don’t want Lloyd to be your endgame, even if it’s not what’s best for you.

Lloyd’s P.O.V

“Trav, you and I need to have a talk,” I sigh as I take seat his computer desk.

He’s nine years old, why the hell does he have such an intense computer setup?

“Aren’t you supposed to knock before you come in? Mom knocks,” he mutters, not even bothering to look up from his book.

“She’s the nicer one.”

“Didn’t she punch my gym teacher in the face just for making a remark about my attitude when it comes to leading team sports?”

“I said she’s nicer one, not the more sane one, and put the damn book down. I’m talking to you.”

“What?”

“Watch your fucking mouth. What’s going on at school, and why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“In order for me to tell you about anything, you’d have to be here for that,” he snaps.

Ah yes, that’s why he has an insane computer setup. Guilt.

“I’m here now.”

“Good job.”

“Travis, I swear to God-”

“You’re never home, Dad! Before, you were always away on missions. Now, you don’t do missions but you’re always at work, and when you are home, you get pissed off about every little thing. If you don’t give a damn, why should I say anything?”

“That’s not true and you know it. I’m just adjusting. I know I’m not good at it, but I’m working on it.”

“Are you capable of apologizing to anyone besides Mom?

“I apologize to you when you deserve one.”

“Now seems like a pretty good time.”

“Jesus, you’re so much like your Mother sometimes. I swear that sometimes I think you two work together to drive me insane.”

“Well, I’m the one who got sent to my room, so it can’t be all that bad.”

“You owe your Mother an apology.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs.

“Sit up and tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Yeah, I don’t care. Get up and talk to me. Why didn’t you tell me you were getting bullied?”

“Didn’t we just discuss that?”

I swear he’s just like Y/N.

“Travis.”

“Some of the kids at school think it’s funny that I’m scared to go to gym class, or that I jump when a book drops, or that I have panic attacks.”

“Why the hell are youi afraid of gym class?”

“A ball bouncing off the wall? A basketball bouncing-”

“Okay okay,” I sigh, sitting back. “You can’t let the bullies win. That’s not how your Mom and I are rasinging you.”

“I fought back and got suspended and, I’m sorry, isn’t that the Hansen way?”

“Are we sure you’re only 9?”

“I learn from the best.”

“That you do. Do you want to be home schooled?”

“Not forever,” he mumbles and I roll my eyes. “What now?”

“Speak up, I’m not raising you to be shy!”

“Why isn’t Mom having this talk with me?”

“Because she’s making dinner and I’m your Father.”

“You should’ve ordered something,” he goes on, completely ignoring the part about me being his Father.

Great, my kid hates me too.

“I offered to and she said that you prefer home cooked meals.”

“It doesn’t matter, she’s stressed out. You just have to do it.”

“How do you know this?”

“When she gets really upset over the things you do, I make dinner or talk her into ordering food,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“I’m trying to do better-”

“Don’t try, Dad. Just do it. Mom is here all the time and she deals with all of it, and then has to deal with your mood swings on top of it? It’s not fair.”

“Yeah, I know,” I mutter as I get up.

“Now who isn’t speaking up?”

“Watch it,” I warn in the voice that lets him know he’s got no more buttons left to push, “and watch the swearing around your Mom. You know how much she hates it.”

“But why?”

“You’ve spent time with your grandparents, that’s not how she was raised. You’re too young to swear.”

“That’s not what you think.”

“You’re gonna swear anyway, so who gives a damn when you start? However, your Mom doesn’t like it, so cut it out.”

“I preferred when you two lived apart.”

“Well, get used to how things are now, because it’s how they’re staying.”

“Not if you keeo going on like this,” he mutters, picking up his book.

“Stop being a little shit and get ready for dinner. I’m taking everyone out.”

“Where?”

“Wherever your Mom wants. Get up and get dressed.”

Yeah, I owe him an apology, but he’s not getting one while he’s being a little shit.

It also doesn’t help that he’s right.

Trying to think of the romantic way to tell you that I’m taking you both out, I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen to see you sitting outside at the patio dinner table, smoking a cigarette and drinking wine.

How did I fuck this up again? We were doing good and then, as usual, I got in the way. I’m the one starting the arguments, I’m burying myself in an attempt to keep the bit of sanity that I have, I’m not there for Travis like I used to be...

I keep fucking it up.

You’re right: this isn’t college and we can’t go on raising Travis like this. I have to start giving and stop taking. I’m not afraid of much, but I am terrified of losing you again, and I can tell that you’re on your last leg. I’m unforgiving and an entitled asshole, and you knew that when you fell in love with me, but the charm was that I never treated you like everyone else.

Well, never to this extent.

Now, I keep taking too much and don’t even think of giving anything back, and I can’t be mad that you’re ready to call off the wedding. Hell, I haven’t even seen you look at a bridal magazine in months.

If this is gonna get better at all, it’s gonna have to start with me.

Y/N’s P.OV.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Hansen?” Tina asked as you both left the library.

“Clearly nothing,” you mumbled, annoyed with yourself for how worked up you got over him at the frat party last week.

You don’t know why you let his words get to you, because Lloyd Hansen only looks out for Lloyd Hansen. It’s all just a game to him and you knew you needed to stop believing you were any different.

“Well, if it were nothing, why the hell did you slap him so hard?”

“As if anyone needs a good reason to slap Lloyd in thr face.”

“I’m not saying it’s not long overdue, but it’s not like you at all. Plus, ever since, you’ve been getting flowers, poems sent to you, teachers seem to be more lax with you-”

“What’s done is done and Lloyd can go fuck himself. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but I’m done thinking it,” you huffed as held back your tears.

You weren’t about to cry over him again, and especially not infront of Tina. No one knows how much Lloyd means to you, and if you keep it that way, you can pretend he never meant much to you either.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Babe, what’s going on? What happened between you two?”

“You and everyone else saw what happened: he went down on me in the kitchen, he took me up to his room and fucked me until I was too tired to walk, we went on a few dates, we fucked again, and then decided to take multiple women up to his room at the frat party he invited me to, and that’s that. I don’t know, I just think it’s pretty shit to tell a person you’re no longer interested that way.”

“I mean...it’s Lloyd. It’s not like he has a decent bone in his body,” she scoffed as you two walked down your dormitry hall. “What did he tell you that made you believe-”

“Tina, can we please stop talking about...I left my door closed,” you said cautiously as your footsteps started to come slower.

“Does anyone besides either of us have a key?”

“Nope,” you sighed, cautiously pushing the door open, only to be met with complete and utter shock. “What the...”

Your dorm room was filled with pink and white peonies, your absolute favorites, and already knew who was behind it.

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? To make it worse, you could feel your heart swelling in your chesr with so much happiness, and your brain couldn’t understand why. Lloyd went out his way just to hurt you, because you wanted to be smart and take your time, so why do all of his actions mean so much?

“Of course you’re here with Tina,” Lloyd mumbled, visibly upset as he rolled his eyes, getting off of your bed.

“Lloyd-”

“Tina, get out,” he snapped at her.

“Excuse me?!”

“This talk doesn’t concern you-”

“It concerns my best friend!”

“Who isn’t you. Get out.”

“Lloyd-”

“Tina, there’s no point in going back and forth, because he’s not going to leave,” you scowled, dropping your bag before picking up one of the flowers.

Yeah, you were pissed, but the flowers were gorgeous.

“Are you sure, Y/N?”

“Yeah babe, I’ll call you later,” you smiled, wondering why the hell you weren’t telling her to stay.

You knew how things would go the second she closed the door.

“Fuck you, Hansen,” she spat before leaving and slamming the door behind her.

“How can you stand to be friends with her? She’s such a bitch.”

“Now, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

“Hummingbird-”

“What the hell do you want, Lloyd?”

“Don’t kick me out before you’ve even heard me out.”

“I don’t feel like hearing anything you have to say. You made your point perfectly clear-”

“No, I didn’t and I’m-”

“Lloyd, just go back-”

“Can you shut up and let me fucking apologize?! Jesus!” he snapped and you jumped at his tone, as well as the fact that he’d just apologized.

Lloyd Hansen never apologized to anyone for anything.

“Listen...you’re right, okay? I don’t give you any reason to believe me, so I shouldn’t be all that surprised that you don’t wanna date me. What I did last week...it was fucked up and I did it out of anger-”

“Anger? How the fuck were you angry with me?!”

“Because you wom’t just admit that you like me! I’ve laid it all out for you, I’ve made the gestures, I’ve-”

“You’ve been sleeping around, you’ve let your temper get the best of you, you’re immature-”

“You don’t need to list every flaw that I have,” he growled. “You’re right and I’m sorry-”

“Lloyd, just leave me alone, please,” you started to sob, throwing the flower down. “You make these big gestures, you say all these things, and then you fucking hurt me. I didn’t do-”

“I meant everything I said to you that night, Hummingbird,” he cooed as he slowly made his way over to you. “I want to make you happy and keep you happy forever, no one has ever made me feel like you do, and I don’t know...it scares me,” he confessed as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Lloyd, please just-”

“I’m not trying to make your life harder-I’m not!” he repeated when you scoffed, “I’m figuring this out, okay? I’ve never...I just want you and In know that you just want me.”

“I don’t know what I want,” you sobbed, finally meeting his gaze, surprised to see just how soft loving it was, and of course it made you yearn for him all that much more.

“I do, Humming. I’ve always known,” he told you breathlessly before cupped your face and kissed you as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

You weren’t surprised by how quickly you’d caved at all. Even with your brain telling you to stop, you also knew that no part of you could deny that you’d missed him. Yeah, you’d missed the sex, but you also just missed Lloyd. You missed the way he teased you about your study habits, you missed him waiting for you outside of your classes, you missed him bringing you dinner and late night snacks when he knew you were staying up too late, the late night phone calls, the personal talks...

You missed Lloyd.

You were both relentless that night, unspoken promises were made, and you let him stay over and hold you close after all was said and done. When morning came, you told him that the night before didn’t change anything and that if really wanted you, he was going to have to really earn you.

You kept the poor man at a distance for almost two months. Then, one night after a football game, everything changed and set what was to be your future in motion.

“Hummingbird, lets go. You’ve had more than enough,” he all but growled as he tried to pull you off of the bar top you were dancing on with Tina.

“Fuck off, Hansen!” you snapped, pulling your hand back as you kept dancing, still mad at him from the argument you two had before the football game.

It also didn’t help that you had 8 shots of tequila consecutively.

“I mean it, Hummingbird. Get your ass off the bar and lets go!”

“Piss off, Hansen!”

“Shut the fuck up, Tina!” he roared back.

It was truly amazing to you how much they hated each other.

You were able to resume dancing for all of 10 seconds before you felt Lloyd’s strong arm around your waist, pulling you down, “hey, let go of me!”

“Time to go back and sleep this off.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you fucking asshole!”

“Denny, get your bastard best friend in line!” Tina yelled, pout on her face at the sight of you being dragged away.

“Denny, get your dumb bitch in line!” Lloyd called back, not even bothering to look in the direction of either of them.

“Lloyd, I fucking hate you!” you screamed, still fighting against him.

“Calm the fuck down!”

“Let me go!” you yelled before spat in his face.

He had it coming for the whole damn day in your defence.

“That’s enough, Y/N!” he snapped, finally jerking you still. “I don’t give a fuck that you’re mad at me, you’re too fucking drunk and you need to lay down! We’re going back to my place, you’re sleeping it off, and that’s final!”

“Fine,” you muttered as you finally stopped the scene you were making, but being completely turned on by the way he was controlling you.

“You little bitch, you would fucking spit...stand outside the bathroom and do not move!” he commanded before shoving the bathroom door open.

“Your boyfriend seems like a real dick,” some guy smirked before he took a sip of his beer and leaned against the wall.

“That prick is not my boyfriend,” you scoffed, trying to decide if you wanted to disobey Lloyd or not.

You really wanted another drink.

“You wanna get away from him?”

“When don’t I?”

“Then lets go,” he chuckled before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out the backdoor with him.

“What the...let me go!”

What was it with guys pulling you around that night?

“C’mon, you said yourself that you wanna get away from that guy!”

“That didn’t mean I wanted to leave with you! Leave me alone!”

“Listen, I saw you dancing on the bar like a little whore-”

“It wasn’t for you! Leave me-”

“Listen, you little bitch! You’re gonna give me what I want and I’ll give you back to your slutty little friend! Now quit-”

“Let me go!” you screamed before you stomped on his foot as hard you could with your heel before elbowing him in the stomach.

“Bitch!” he yelled, doubled over in pain as you started to run off.

How was this happening to you?

You got but only so far before being tackled, “help!”

“Now, you’re gonna fucking pay! I’m gonna make sure you’re in pain for a fuckin week!” he promised as he roughly forced you onto your back, scraping your knees against the gravel in the process before he ripped open your skirt.

“Please stop!” you cried, hitting his chest as hard as you could, but it was useless. “Get off of me!”

“Shut up!”

“The woman said to get off of her!” Lloyd yelled before he kicked the guy in the face and practically sent him flying. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Lloyd asked, rage taking over his entire demeanor as he looked you over.

You couldn’t think of any response other than to shake your head ‘no’.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised before turning and facing the asshole who was trying to get back up. “Come here you piece of shit! When someone fucking says no, you fucking stop!”

You tried to tell him to stop, but you couldn’t swallow down the lump in your throat, and you couldn’t stop shaking. Lloyd was relentless as kept landing blow after blow, but making sure to keep him upright. It’s not like you had the perfect view of his face, but you could tell that he was completely unhinged. Yeah, you’d seen him lose his temper before, but never like this.

“Now, do you understand that no means no?” he growled, holding the piece of shit up by the lapel of his shirt.

“I...I won’t...I’ll never do it again,” the man sputtered out, trying to stay up right.

“I wanna believe you Lamb Chop,” he pouted, feigning sympathy, “but I’m afraid there’s only one way that I’ll believe that something like this will never happen again.”

As if it were the easiest thing in the world, Lloyd snapped the pathetic man’s neck. You didn’t gasp, but the shaking definitely stopped.

“Are you okay?” Lloyd asked again, as he made his way over to you, voice soft as if he hadn’t just killed a man.

All you did was look up at him, eyes wide with shock.

“Hummingbird, are you okay?”

You just nodded. Lloyd sighed, half in annoyance and half in sympathy. He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to his frat house, not caring at all that it was a 20 minute walk.

You were quiet for the entire walk, because what could you say? What could you do? You’d just witnessed him kill someone as it were the easiest thing in the world, and he didn’t even seem slightly bothered by it. He just held you close while you clung to him as if your life depended on it, and you both stayed like that until you reached his room.

“You need to clean yourself up,” he told you gently after he finished cleaning up the cuts on your knees.

“That...that guy-”

“Is never going to bother you again.”

“But you...he’s just laying there-”

“It’s taken care of.”

“But what if-”

“Everything is going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about. He’ll never bother you again. No one will.”

“I should go back-”

“Stay here tonight and we’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”

“Lloyd...you have to-”

“I have to make sure you’re all good, Hummingbird.”

“No. No, you need to make sure-”

“Stop it. Every thing is as it should be. Go and clean up.”

In all honesty, that should’ve been enough for you. You knew, that night, that you needed to walk away. Lloyd had murdered someone and felt absolutely no remorse over it. In fact, as you stood under the shower head that night, you were more than sure that wasn’t his first time. When you got out of the shower, you cracked the door and heard him on the phone with someone (more than likely Denny), and he was talking to them about a neat “clean up”. Yes, that night showed you the kind of man you were dealing with, and you had more than enough proof that it was time to walk away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you dried yourself off, got in bed next to him, and let him hold you close, feeling safer than you’d ever had in your life. Yeah, he’d killed a man, but he killed him for you. He’d told you time and time again that he’d do anything to keep you safe and that night he proved it. Plus, after that night, he was so insanely patient and sweet with you. For a man who had a reputation for not being able to keep his dick in his pants, he didn’t sleep around and didn’t mention anything sexual until you straddled him after an amazing football victory.

No, you can’t blame for Lloyd for much, because he’d never hidden who and how he truly was from the very beginning. You’d always known that he was hot headed, unhinged, and cruel. You’d always known that he was conniving, secretive, and was prone to violent outburst. You’d always known about every horrible thing about him, and maybe that’s why you stayed. Lloyd never seemed to give a damn about anyone or anything, but he gave a damn about you. He let you in more than he’d ever let anyone else in and it made you feel like he wasn’t lying.

When you had a chance to get out, you didn’t.

And yes: you did have an out. Lloyd backed off a lot after he murdered that asshole, because even he knew that he’d shown you the darkest side of himself. He saw the fear in your eyes that night, and he knew it would be best to back off and give you your space, but you pursued him. So yes, to an extent, this was your fault. Lloyd had always been himself and you decided to stay.

You always told yourself that he would grow out of it (which you knew was fucking stupid), and that he’d stick to the career path you two had setup. Looking back on it, maybe he just made the career path to appease you, and maybe you just wanted to live in the fucked fairy-tale just a bit longer, because somewhere deep down inside you knew.

You knew he would never be able to stick to being a football player, because he didn’t know how to listen to anyone (except maybe you), he didn’t do well in social settings unless he had to, and he always hit too damn hard on the field because of his temper and his need to lash out. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew your fairy-tale would end after college graduation. That’s why you fought with him over joining the CIA, and it’s why you knew he’d fail at it. However, you were hopeful that him getting kicked out would push him to choose another career path, but then they asked him to join the private sector and you knew you were fucked.

Yes, to an extent, you could blame yourself but that didn’t clear him of all wrong doing. You’d sacrificed so much if yourself for him and didn’t think the idea of him returning the favor was so far fetched. Fine, he had to work just like you did (especially to afford the life he wanted to live), but once you got pregnant, it should’ve been easy for him to see for himself that he needed to take a step back. It should’ve been enough for him to finally giving instead of taking.

He took you wanting him to take a step back as sign of no longer supporting him, when in fact, it was all about safety and security. For all of the flaws that it had, you loved your life and you wanted it to stay as it had become. The fact that Lloyd couldn’t see that is what triggered the arguments. Sure, you could’ve been more vocal (though you’re pretty sure you made your point pretty fucking clear), but it’s not like it was fucking rocket science. You two had a kid and safety precautions needed to be taken.

What was once a quality you adored about him, his ability and need to be stubborn and hold on to his beliefs, became a quality you hated. Still, you held on and tried to make the best of it, because you loved him with every fiber of your being. You knew the relationship was dying, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to let go. Even with the lonely nights, the brutal arguments, and the sleepless nights you couldn’t walk away.

Then he cheated, something you purposely pushed him towards, and you had an out again. Yeah, the whole process was awful and you hated it, but you told yourself it was for the best because it truly was. He needed something you could no longer offer, and you just couldn’t take feeling like another burden in his life. It was a clean break.

Except for Travis.

Despite all of the issues you and Lloyd had, you both loved Travis more than anything in the world. Lloyd was on time to pick him up whenever it was turn to have him, he stayed on him about his schoolwork and studying for any possible thing that could come up, and did his absolutebet to be every event Travis had. If you’re honest with yourself, it’s one of the reasons it was so hard for you to fall out of love with him. He was so dedicated and he loved Travis more than either ever thought possible. How could you not stay in love with him?

Still, enough damage had happened that it was easy enough for you to stay away, but it wasn’t enough to make you stop wanting and needing him.

“He was good this weekend,” Lloyd commented as Travis ran into your house.

“Did he make a fuss about the food? I know his appetite has been changing lately.”

“Yeah, since when the hell did he start liking peas?”

“That happened on Monday,” you laughed softly, “he wasn’t too fussy?”

“He gets sad sometimes, he likes having the both of us around, but I took him to the aquarium.”

“Oh God,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“What?” he laughed.

“He’s gonna beg me to take him back. He’s been obsessed with it lately.”

“I didn’t know-”

“No, it’s fine. He’s a good kid, he deserves it.”

“Mama! Dad can stay for a bit, right?!” Travis asked enthusiastically.

“Uh...it’s up to your Dad,” you smiled at Lloyd with a shrug.

“Yeah, I can hang around for bit,” he smiled to Travis.

“Great! Mom made chicken parm and salad! We can watch ‘Tombstone’!” he practically yelled before he ran towards the kitchen.

Nights like that made it easy to blur the lines, because it was so easy to fall into a routine, and fall even more in love with Lloyd. Yes, Lloyd did a lot of fucked up things, but when it came to you in Travis, he was a good man. He’d stay over, watch movies, play video games, and read him stories until he fell asleep. Those were the nights that made it hard to stay away. Yeah, you only slept with him once during the divorce, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t other fuck ups, and they weren’t even his fault.

He’d be in the middle of what his schedule looked like for the week and you’d just kiss him. You knew that you were the one who set the rules in place, but seeing him in full Dad mode made you forget for just a moment about all of the hell you two had gone through. In those moments, you remembered how things were supposed to go. You two were still so much in love and having those small moments really made you want him all that much more. You never meant for those moments to happen, especially during the holidays, but it was just so damn hard. When Lloyd Hansen wants to be, he is the most loving and caring person to exist.

Which is why you’re currently staring at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom connected to the spare bedroom, trying to decide if going to Lloyd is the best thing. You know that if you go in there, you two won’t be able to keep to your hands to yourselves and you’ll end up under his spell.

Like always.

However, you can’t stop yourself from wanting him. His touch alone is enough to bring you peace, but him being buried deep inside you...that’s heaven.

It’s home.

It’s not even about needing to be satisfied physically, it’s the fact that no one will ever understand or love you the way that Lloyd does. He gets your crude and cruel sense of humor, he knows the best and worst parts of you, and he’s the Father of your child. Your relationship with him should be perfect, but it’s a fucking shit show, and you know that. You truly do, but no matter how much you try and get your heart to remember that one simple fact, you can’t. You’ve never been able to.

Lloyd, for all of his demons and flaws, is your endgame.

So, you don’t stop yourself from throwing on one of his old and beaten up Harvard sweaters (he always wanted to get rid of them but they held too much meaning to you), and a pair of boxer shorts, and making your way to his room. You know it’s not in your best interest, but you need him.

“Hey,” you say softly, standing in the doorway and looking down at your feet, “dinner was nice...thanks. I’m happy you and Travis made up.”

“We didn’t make up,” Lloyd scoffs as he throws his phone down, “he just hates me a little less than he did when we got home before.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Lloyd.”

“He doesn’t love me.”

“Yes he does,” you sigh, making your way into his bedroom and closing the door behind you, “he just...it’s gonna take time.”

“You’re always nicer than you should be,” he chuckles humorlessly.

“Well, I do love you.”

“A love I don’t deserve.”

“That’s also true.”

“Way to twist the knife.” “You said it.”

“Hummingbird, I really want...I need us to work this out. I can’t lose you again.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Lloyd. It’s not like I’m not still wearing the ring, I’m the one who wanted therapy, I’m making the effort instead of just walking away....I do want this. I’ve wanted this ever since our first date,” you smile weakly as you take a seat on the bed you two are supposed to share. “I just can’t take the stress your job puts on this family. Our family. Travis is in a fight every other week, we’re always arguing, both and Travis and I are always anxious to leave the house, I’m back keeping a pistol both in the glove compartment and my purse-”

“I don’t know how to be apart of this world as a regular, day-to-day citizen and you know that! You’ve always known that!”

“Then why did we have a child? A child that you were barely around for when he was first born!”

“Because I wanted everything with you! I still want everything with you!”

“This was a bad idea,” you sigh as you go to getup, “I don’t wanna spend another night-”

“Don’t go,” he pleads softly as he grabs your wrist, “please don’t go.”

It’s amazing how just his touch is enough to send your mind into a fog. It’s not like you went in there with any fight to begin with, but the hold he has on your wrist is more than enough to get you to give in to what you truly want. You’re straddling him almost instantly, cupping his before you pull him into a deep and passionate kiss.

You finally feel whole again.

“I miss you,” he breathes once you two break apart.

“Miss you too, baby,” you confess, pulling back just a little before pulling his sweater off, “I hate being away from you.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he marvels as his hands trace over your body, “I still can’t believe that you’re all mine. That you fucking chose me.”

“I’ll choose you every time, Huckleberry,” you moan as he massages your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers.

Once again, it’s never been lost on you how toxic the dance you two do is. You two can’t keep trying to solve everything with sex, you two have a child who sees the toxic relationship you two have daily, and your relationship is on its last leg.

All of that being said, you can’t fucking stop, because Lloyd is everything to you. Your family is everything to you. Everything you’ve ever wanted is everything Lloyd has given to you. The sad fact of the matter is, no matter how bad things are, you know you’ll never have the strength to tell him ‘no’. Hell, even if you two do breakup again, you wouldn’t deny him access to you any time he wanted.

That’s the hardest part about being in love with a devil. They’re a million and ten things wrong with Lloyd, and he was right: you knew all this and still started on this twisted and deranged fairy-tale with him. You should be repulsed by him, and it was a lot easier to be in high school when he was a preppy asshole, but for you? For you, Lloyd would do practically anything. He’s your sweetheart, your best friend, your comedian, your knight in shining armor, and he’s the love of your life.

He’s your Huckleberry.

In a matter of moments, your boxer shorts are off and you’re on top of him, ignoring all of the voices in your head telling you that this is a horrible idea.

“Fuck,” you sigh, slowly sinking yourself down on his cock, digging your nails into his shoulder as he pulls you apart, “oh God!”

“You look so fucking beautiful when you’re on top, Hummingbird,” he growls, gripping your hips tight as you start to grind your hips against, “and this fucking pussy!”

“Lloyd,” you whimper, trying to keep quiet as you chase the high only he can give you.

“Gonna do better for you, Hummingbird...be the man you deserve,” he promises as he starts to pump up into you hard and fast.

“SHIT!”

So much for being quiet.

“C’mon Hummingbird, give me what I need,” he begs, watching you in pure awe as you try and hang on, his hands finds its way between your legs and starts massage your clit, “been way too long, Hummingbird!”

“Oh God, please...yes! YES! FUCK!” you cry out, squirting hard on his cock, almost falling forward.

At some point, some point soon, you need to look into therapy for Travis.

“All for me and we’re just getting started,” he pants with a grin before getting you on your back, “gonna make you feel so fucking good tonight,” he promises before kissing you passionately as he starts to pump into you hard and fast.

“I love...love you so much, baby,” you moan, cupping his face as you let yourself get lost in the lie all over again.

“Yeah? Show much just how much tonight,” he whispers hotly against your ear, his hands caressing your body before nipping on your earlobe.

Yes, somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that the promises that are being made in this moment won’t stand when you’re able to think clearly, but you don’t care. Right now, you just can’t. You’ve been in love with Lloyd for so long and, if all you can do is live in the make believe world of happiness you two always find a way to make for yourselves, then you’ll take it.

You’ve missed your husband, you’ve missed his touch, you’ve missed him being buried deep inside of you, and you’ve missed feeling complete. Lloyd may be a complete and total monster, but he’s the only person whose ever made you feel seen and understood. Lloyd is perfect for you, except for all of the parts of him that aren’t.

How the hell are you ever supposed to feel secure in the choice you have to make? Being with him is the most draining and exhausting thing you’ve ever done, but being without him is absolute Hell and makes you feel insanely alone and depressed. There truly feels like no right answer.

You two spend the next couple of hours professing your love to one another, getting lost in the love that you feel for one another (which started all those years ago), and promise each other that you’ll work it all out.

You truly want to believe that you two will work it all out, because you don’t know how you’re supposed to go without him again. It just doesn’t feel possible.

“I called my Mother earlier,” Lloyd sighs, getting back into bed with you after cleaning you up, “she said she’ll take Travis for the week.”

“Why is he staying with your parents?”

“Why not?”

“Cause there’s no fucking structure in your family.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Hummingbird.”

“I’m sorry, have you not met yourself?”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did.”

“After the conference, we’re gonna go away and talk this out,” he laughs, wrapping an arm around you. “We’re find a way to make this work.”

“Lloyd-”

“I can’t be without you, Hummingbird. I can’t and I won’t. We’re gonna make this work,” he promises, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you close. “We can make this work...we can be good again, Hummingbird,” he sighs, kissing the back if your neck softly.

You slowly start drifting off, feeling more relaxed and at ease then you have in weeks. You’re finally back where you belong, but you can’t stop one question from racing through your brain:

Were you two even really good to begin with?

“Mr. and Mrs Hansen,” Travis’ principle sighs, “this isn’t the first time we’ve had to talk about Travis’ behavior.”

No, you and Lloyd aren’t married again, but you’re still wearing the engagement ring, so who are you to correct her? Besides, you really do miss being Mrs. Hansen.

“You’re right, it isn’t, but Travis went to you and told you-”

“Our sweet boy has a broken nose! Your son-”

“Your son has been bullying mine for months!” you snap at Mrs. Heston, the mother of the kid Travis punched.

“So, your son had the right to respond with violence? Is that what you teach in your home?” Mr. Heston scoffs in a tone of pure disbelief.

“Better to teach our son to stand up for himself than to teach him to be a little rude little bitch,” Lloyd snarls.

“Mr. Hansen!” the principle reprimands.

“Listen,” you quickly interrupt in a weak attempt to defuse the situation, “Travis shouldn’t have hit Maxwell and he knows that, HOWEVER, Travis had come to you about it and you did nothing about it.”

“Boys will be boys, you know that,” Mrs. Heston chuckles, “he was only teasing-”

“I don’t think you would find it all that fucking funny if the shoe were on the other foot,” you snarl, quickly loosing all composure.

“No, it is by no means funny what happened to your son, and we’re truly happy he’s okay, but that doesn’t make up for him breaking our son’s nose. Your child is violent and on his way to becoming a delinquent,” Mr. Heston finishes with a huff and a nod.

You should’ve known that if you didn’t snap on one of these idiots, Lloyd would.In almost an instant, Lloyd is on the other side of the room and landing a blow to Mr. Heston’s face.

“Lloyd,” you sigh with a frustrated groan, grabbing your purse and getting up.

“You and your son a two little pieces shit,” Lloyd growls, ignoring you and the fact that hes now terrified the Hestons and the principal as he steps on the man’s chest, “and I’ll see both of you useless cum stains in hell,” he spits. “Don’t worry about Travis making up for time lost, because we’re pulling him out of this shit cage. The place is run by a bunch of morons anyway.”

“Mr. Hansen! We can work something-”

“We’re done here,” he says with a shrug before strutting out as if he hadn’t just scared the shit out of everyone with his temper.

No matter how hard he tries, they’re just some things about Lloyd Hansen that’ll never change.

“Mrs. Hansen-”

“You heard him: we’re done here,” you glare before following him out. “Lloyd-”

“Why don’t I ever fucking listen? And why the fuck don’t I ever listen?!”

“This isn’t field work, babe,” you sigh, taking your hand in his, “you can’t just hit people in the face-”

“You heard them! They weren’t taking accountability for their snot nosed little shit-”

“Lloyd, who do you thinks deals with all of this when you’re gone or too caught up with work? I know how they talk about him, how they see us, and I see the judgemental stares. I know how infuriating all of it is, but you can’t just fly off the handle because someone got under your skin.”

“Since when?”

“Since this isn’t your world. This is Travis’ world and you need to remember that your actions effect his life. Yeah, I’m happy that we’re finally pulling him out of hell hole, but he still has one or two friends. You don’t think this will get out?”

“It’s annoying...you always being right is annoying,” he sighs, finally coming to a stop, facing you, and leaning his forehead against yours as you giggle softly. “I’m sorry.”

“You know, I’m not the only one you owe an apology to.”

“Yeah, when we get back.”

“Why did you ask your Mom to take him for the week?”

“We need more than a weekend to talk this shit out, and I’m sure Travis needs a break from me and all my bullshit. My Mom adores the shit out of him and I know my Dad will keep him busy with books and sports talk.”

“There’s still no fucking structure at your parents place.”

“Next time, we’ll let him stay at your parents place,” he mumbles, “lets get out of here.”

“We to do the paperwork-”

“My assistant will take care of it. We need to get out of here before I break something.”

“You and that temper of yours,” you smirk before resuming your trip out of the building.

“It’s not like you fell in love thinking I was some fucking choir boy.”

“You are in fact correct, Huckleberry.”

“There’s my good little Hummingbird,” he coos and you start laughing.

God, please let this trip help the both of you, because you don’t know how the hell he’ll survive without you.

Or how you’ll survive without him.

The drive to wherever the hell Lloyd rented for you two is starting to feel like it’ll never end.

“Lloyd, can you please just tell me-”

“Hummingbird, stop asking.”

“We’ve been in the car for three and a half hours!”

“We’ve stopped for food and snacks-”

“That’s not the point, Lloyd! I’m tired of being in the car!”

“You weren’t this fussy when I drove you to the farm to propose to you.”

“Yes I was!”

“You were? I guess I was more nervous than I thought,” he says nonchalantly.

“Wait, you were nervous-”

“We’re here!” he announces, letting you know he won’t be diving back into that for the time being.

You begrudgingly turn attention to the windshield and gasp, “Lloyd!”

“I know this isn’t necessarily going to be fun, but I still wanted to try for you. You’ve been wanting to take a trip to the mountains for years, and I thought could at least soften some of the blows.”

“I don’t want to spend a week arguing with you, babe.”

“It’s not like I want to, and this is on me, but you’re the one who keeps saying that we have to be honest with one another about this shit. I want this to work. Us to work. So, lets rip off the band-aid.”

“Thank you, Lloyd. I love you.”

“I love you too, Hummingbird...ya know,” he starts with a mischievous grin, “we don’t have to start this thing off with an argument.”

“I swear to God,” you laugh as he unlocks the doors.

“There’s my good girl.”

The instant he’s on your side of the car, he’s opening your door, throwing you over his shoulder, and you can’t stop from giggling and kicking your legs a little as he rushes up the steps to unlock the front door. He’s quick to kick the door closed and is moving so fast that you barely get to take in the blur that is the house around you.

Well, it’s more like a mansion.

“Can’t wait to get you upstairs,” Lloyd husks as he sets you down on the kitchen counter, “I need you to make me feel better in only the way you can, and I need it now.”

“Take what you need, daddy,” you moan at the feel of his fingers skillfully undoing your jeans.

“Such a good girl,” he smirks, roughly pulling your pants off, and ripping your panties off, “you wore my favorite red lace ones? Aww, daddy will make it up to you later, sweetie. For now, daddy’s gonna abuse this this fucking body until he’s fucking satisfied, understand me?” he states firmly, sliding two fingers into your dripping cunt.

“Please,” you sigh, ecstasy taking over your body as lay back on your on your elbows, “do your worst daddy, please!”

“Daddy’s good little slut.”

“Anything for you!”

You writhe in pleasure as he starts to massage your clit, opting to take off your shirt and your bra, because you know what’s coming and you need to feel all of him when it finally gets to that point.

“Fuck! Need to...fuck!”

“Daddy didn’t say you can cum yet,” he taunts condescendingly, slapping your cunt with his other hand.

“DADDY!”

“You better not fuckin cum until I say so,” he warns, his voice menacing, only making you clench around his fingers, “been so long since you’ve been my little hasn’t it?”

“Too fucking long, daddy,” you moan as you start to massage your breasts, a silent gasp escaping your lips as you start kneading your nipples between your fingers.

“Change of plans, sweetie, you’re gonna finish off in daddy’s mouth.”

Instantly, Lloyd pulls you to the edge of the smooth marble countertop, dips down and starts sucking and pulling on your clit, and you buck your hips as you arch your back. Yeah, you two spent hours making up for lost time last night, but this is so much more different. Last night was all about apologies and making each other feel the love you’d both felt you’d been lacking, but right now? Right now is all about getting out all of those pent up feelings of anger and aggression, and not even towards each other. You haven’t forgotten that a few short hours ago, he punched a man in the face and practically stomped on his chest.

Yeah, you love the punishments he gives you, and it’s been entirely too long, but if denies you of an orgasm you may actually commit a crime.

“You’re so fucking good to me, daddy!” you whimper, eyes welling up with tears as you grip his hair and start grinding your pussy against his face. When you removes his fingers and replaces them with his tongue, you know you can’t hold on any longer, “please!”

With one hand, he grips your thigh tight, while teasing your clit with his thumb with the other, and you know he’s giving you his permission, thank God. You scream his name, gripping his hair tighter than you mean (you know he doesn’t give a shit), trying to enjoy the feel of him tongue fucking you through your high, but it isn’t enough.

You need more.

“Such a desperate, needy little thing,” he pants with a grin, clearly satisfied with his work as he stands up and looks you over, your juices shinning in his mustache.

“Daddy,” you beg pathetically, chest heaving as you prop yourself up on your shoulders, “please.”

“Please what?” he growls, unzipping his pants as he looks you over in your wrecked state, making no attempt to hide how much he wants to destroy you.

“Fuck me.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me so hard that I can’t walk, daddy. Destroy me, please!” you beg as your hand slides between your legs and you start to massage your clit. “Or do I have to remind you how to do it?”

In the blink of an eye, Lloyd pulls you off the counter, turns you around and pins your hands behind your back with one hand, forces you against the counter, and thrusts himself inside of you.

“FUCK!”

“You think you’re so fucking cute, don’t you?” he snarls as he slams into you hard and fast. “Thinking I forgot how to take care of what’s mine? Like I don’t know how the fuck to satisfy you?”

“DADDY!”

“Don’t go fucking stupid on me now, you little bitch! Answer the fucking question!”

All you can do is lull your head back as you scratch up your own wrists, getting lost in pure pleasure at feel of his breath on your neck.

Lloyd isn’t having that.

With his free hand, he grips your hair tight, pulls it tight and says, “I want a fucking answer. You get your fucking pussy eaten and forget how to respond? I asked you a fucking question!”

“Daddy!”

“Don’t tell me it’s too much for you now. Already fucked so stupid that you can’t answer a simple fucking question?” he asks, relentlessly fucking into you as he pulls your hair harder.

“I...I know you can fuck me good, daddy! I’m sorry-”

“Not yet, you little bitch!” he growls as he grips your throat. “Don’t ever make that mistake again, you understand me?!”

“Anything you say, daddy!” you sob, climax building as you try and fight off another release. “I’ll be so good for you!” “You bet your fucking ass you will be!” he growls as his grip on your neck gets tighter. “Pussy is so fucking tight...such a sweet little whore! Cum for daddy! Make a mess and cum so fucking hard for me, sweet girl!”

“FUCK!”

As you squirt hard on his cock (you’re more than sure you’ve gotten it on his pants), and your legs tremble as they struggle to hold you upright, you can’t help but wonder why Lloyd is the only person who can satisfy your needs.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises as your eyes flutter shut and you lull your head back. “Remember when we first started fucking? No one had ever been inside that tight little fucking asshole,” he taunts as his hand travels down your body, before reaching your ass and slapping it hard.

“Daddy!”

“Do you remember?”

“Fuck...yes! Yes, your cock is the only one...the only one thats been in my ass!”

“Been so long...think I might have to stretch out this tight little ass after I eat it. What do ya think, honey?”

“Please, daddy! Anything you want!” you whimper tugging at his shirt, “please!”

“What does my queen need?” he husks hotly against your ear, his grip tightening a little and you know he’s close.

“Please...take it off...wanna feel all of you!”

“Anything you want,” he promises with a grunt before forcing you to bend over the countertop, releasing your hands, taking his top off, and gripping your hips, tight. “You’re gonna cum hard for me while I fill you up, then you’re clean daddy off, and I’m gonna fuck you until I’m satisfied, you understand me, sweet girl?”

All you’re able to get out is a garbled moan as you claw at the countertop, too lost in the pleasure of him fucking you like his own personal rag doll.

“Daddy’s perfect little girl,” he chuckles darkly, “my favorite little cum slut, come on, baby, give me what I want!” he demands slamming his hips into you as he fills you to the brim.

Your brain may not be able to respond properly, but your body is on autopilot. You let out a pitiful moan as you squirt hard, laying your head against the cool marble top as your legs almost give out again.

“Always making such a pretty mess for me, baby,” he coos softly as he strokes your ass while pulling out, before slapping your it hard, “now clean me up!” he demands harshly.

What the hell were you two even supposed to be arguing about this week?

You do your best to get on your knees quickly, but the idea of functioning in any way is somewhat lost on you, and you know Lloyd loves it. Yeah, Lloyd loves when you’re a little sex vixen, but he also loves when he turns you into a puddle. The only thing that Lloyd loves more than your tears from getting lost in euphoria, is you being completely weak and a giant puddle.

He loves that, after all this time, he still makes you feel better than anyone else ever has and ever will.

“Look up at me, honey. Let me see that beautiful little face,” he demands condescendingly as he grips your face.

You can’t even begin to imagine how fucking wrecked you look. You’re more than sure your mascara is ruined, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you have a dazed and fucked out look on your face.

You look exactly the way he loves.

“My beautiful little cum dump,” he snickers, “open.”

You instantly obey and he doesn’t even give you a chance to prepare yourself for him, before he starts roughly face fucking you. The crazed look in his eyes only makes you crave him more, and the devilish smirk playing on his lips lets you know that he knows what’s going on in your brain.

“Need me to stuff that pussy with this fat cock again, Hummingbird? Make you cum until you pass out and I’m still fucking you? You miss that so much don’t you?” he teases as he grips your hair tighter.

You can only moan in response, but you know he knows that you’re agreeing with him. As much as you love Travis, things changed drastically once he was brought into the picture.

As they should have.

Yes, you and Lloyd still had what some may call ‘wild sex’ (Tina did), but you two brought it down a lot. There would be no way in hell for the two of you to explain to a three year old why Lloyd’s balls deep in your ass while you have a ball gag in your mouth, and your hands are bound behind your back.

Maybe that’s also a factor that you hadn’t thought of when it comes to the reason as to why you two fell apart.

No, you two didn’t make sex your entire relationship, but it definitely played an important part. You were just as sexual and perverse in your sexual desires as Lloyd was, and when the arguments started to become more and more, the sex became less and less. It’s not like either of you wanted it to happen, but the angrier you two got, the harder it was for you two to separate angry sex from mind-numbing, passionate sex.

Lack of conversation, lack of passion, lack of sex...all of it truly played a part in the downfall of your relationship, but you can’t focus on that right now. Not when you two have each other like this, vulnerable and out in the open like this. Yes, you two would have date nights when Travis would go and stay with his friends or his grandparents, but it wasn’t the same, because you both were waiting on him to call and ask either of you to pick him up. No, this was different because, for the first time in a long time, you two had real alone time together.

Neither of you were about to ruin it with drama that hadn’t even stared yet.

“Tell me how much you need, daddy, Hummingbird,” Lloyd moans as he continues to fuck your mouth. “You love when I fucking destroy you for anyone else?”

You don’t even make an effort to try and push him off so you can answer him. You just keep taking the assault he gives you, hoping your eyes tell him everything you need to say but can’t.

“Daddy should reward you, shouldn’t he?” he chastises as he grips your hair and forces you off his cock.

God help you.

Without any hesitation, he’s pulling you up, before picking you up and forcing your legs around his waist.

“You did so good for daddy, Hummingbird,” he praises as he thrusts himself inside of you, and you gasp at the feel of him splitting you apart all over again. “Always been such a good little whore for me, baby,” he coos as he softly drags his nose across your collar bone. “So filthy and so beautiful, and it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

“Only ever for you, daddy,” you whimper, your head lulling back as he fucks into you as if hes been without you for years.

Easily enough, he maneuvers around the house, as if hes been there a million times, as he kisses you all over, the hairs of his mustache tickling your chest lightly as you grip his hair and roll your hips against his. God, you can’t remember the last time you two were able to be so needy and desperate in the most pathetic way. Even though you two have been back together for a little over a year, you’re always the one to remind him that Travis is at the age where he can be emotionally scarred by the weird and kinky shit you two are into.

“Daddy’s gonna be nice and let you take what you want from him,” he groans as he takes a seat on the couch, licking your chest with the tip of his tongue and it sends a shiver down your spine as you feel him go deeper inside of you.

“Missed you so much,” you whimper as you start to ride him, “haven’t had you like this in forever, daddy!”

“Yeah? You missed being fucked like the little desperate whore you are?”

“You know I do!”

“My poor little sweet thing,” he coos condescendingly as you pick up your pace, his hand snaking its way around your throat and gripping it tight, “been so unsatisfied because I haven’t been able to fuck in the torture room like I did a couple of months ago?”

“DADDY!”

“Took my cock so fucking well that night, baby, remember?” he questions as he presses kisses along your neck.

There’s no way you could forget that night. Travis had gone to bed early, you and Lloyd got into a drunken argument, you told him that you two needed to take it to the basement because you both were getting too loud and you didn’t wanna wake Travis, and it turned into fucking all night in positions you hadn’t done since college.

The next day, Travis kept asking you why you were walking so slow and funny, and you lied and told him you pulled something.

“Oh, someone’s close,” Lloyd smirks, as you clench around him at just the thought of that night.

“Feels so good to be your rag doll, daddy! So happy...so happy to please you!”

“Jesus, fucking cum for me right now, Hummingbird! Fucking make a mess all over this fucking sofa!”

“Can’t...need to fucking...oh my GOD!”

“Be a good girl for daddy and fucking cum!” he demands roughly.

It’s amazing how quickly you turn into putty for this man.

“God, YES!” you scream as your release washes over.

Lloyd gives you no chance to recover as he pins you down and starts fucking into you hard and fast.

“DADDY PLEASE!”

“Such a filthy little thing,” he grunts, his pace unrelenting as you claw at his back, “creaming all over my fucking cock like a desperate little whore!”

“I’m so fucking close!”

“Yeah you fucking are, and you’re gonna fucking ruin this sofa with that sweet cream between your fucking legs!”

“Oh my...FUCK! YES, PLEASE!”

“Give it to me, Hummingbird!”

“LLOYD!” you scream as you cream hard all over his cock, more than sure you’ve followed his command of making a mess on the sofa.

“Y/N!” he growls into your neck, his release filling you up, and you can’t help but smile at the feel of it leaking out and running down your ass cheeks. You both take a moment to get yourselves together, before Lloyd asks, “you had enough, Hummingbird?”

“Not even close,” you breathe.

“That’s my girl.”

You and Lloyd stay at it for hours, he has you in every room he can find (almost as if he’s christening the house), marking each other up, degrading each other, while also building each other up, and it’s heaven. You want to stay locked in this moment for the week, but you know you two have to deal with reality at some point.

“Daddy! Please don’t stop!” you cry out as Lloyd fucks into you relentlessly from behind, as you two fuck up the pillows in the master bedroom.

“Give me that sweet cream! Be the little slut you’ve always been and make a fucking mess!”

“Can’t...so close!”

“C’mon, I know my Hummingbird can-”

“FUCK!” you scream as his hand tightens around your neck, your orgasm hitting so hard your legs almost give out.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he growls as he fills you for what feels like the millionth time. “Always such a warm fucking finish,” he breathes as he rests his head in the crook of your neck.

He rides out both of your highs before pulling out, collapsing next to you, and pulling you close. You lay your head on his chest, rest one of your hands on his pecs, and try to match his breathing.

It’s the closest you’ve felt to heaven in a long time.

“You ready to argue?” he asks once his breathing evens out.

“I guess so.”

“Lets fuckin have it out, Hummingbird.”

God help you both.

The arguments you two have in the next few days following your grand opening fuck fest are brutal to say the least.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Hummingbird,” Lloyd growled as he walked out of the kitchen and into the back patio.

“Well you’re gonna fucking hear about it! You’re the greediest son of a bitch, and I am tired of you acting like it’s everyone else with the fucking problem!”

“Hummingbird, you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve being mad about a fucking job that keeps a roof over your head-”

“I had my own fucking job that kept a roof over Travis and I’s head-”

“And where is that job now?!”

“Watch it, Hansen,” you warned, “lets not get into the fucking blame game here, because we both know it wasn’t me who lost me that fucking job!”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! You’ve always known that my job comes with a level of-”

“Oh my God! You’re a fucking sociopath that has a nice fucking government job to hide behind!”

“You know that’s not-”

“It is! Stop lying to me like I’m someone who hasn’t known the darker parts of you-”

“EXACTLY! YOU FUCKING KNEW!” he roared at you. “You’ve known since that, and I’m pretty fucking sure since before then too! I backed off and gave you a chance to leave, and you sought me out! Don’t make it seem like I dragged you into hell! You willingly came-”

“THEN WE HAD A FUCKING CHILD, LLOYD! Why is it so preposterous that I wanted you to pull back, you selfish fuck?! What the fuck did you expect me to do?! I didn’t stray from the career path, you did! And you sure as shit made sure to tell me about it after you made your choice!”

“Then why did you say ‘yes’?!”

“Because I love you, you stupid sack of shit! I love you and, I don’t know, I thought that we’d have some sort of fucking future together, because you kept talking about settling down and having a family! Then, in trying to fucking start that family with you, I had two fucking miscarriages that you couldn’t even be bothered to notice, because you were too wrapped up in yourself to even fucking notice anything! For fucks sake, did you even want Travis? Or was it just to feed into this version of yourself that you were trying to create?! Jesus, do you even fucking love him?!” you shouted, instantly regretting it.

“FUCK YOU!” he spat. “You fucking know that you and him are my entire universe-”

“THEN WHY DON’T YOU FUCKING ACT LIKE IT?!” you screamed as your tears finally started to fall. “You make us feel like the biggest burdens, when all we’re trying to do is be a part of your world-”

“MY WORLD IS TOO DARK FOR THE BOTH OF YOU!”

“THEN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU FIGHTING SO HARD TO SAVE THIS FUCKING DEAD END MARRIAGE?!” you sobbed before you stormed back into the house.

You both would take things entirely too far, holding each other accountable for every terrible crime you two had committed against each other, and wanting one another to know that neither of you was blameless in the downfall of the marriage. However Lloyd, being the secret sweetheart that he is, would make sure you two didn’t go to bed mad at one another.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed as he approached the bedroom, leaning against the door frame.

“We’re a fucking time bomb,” you sniffled with a halfhearted chuckle as you wiped your eyes.

“I constantly ask why you didn’t just leave, like I didn’t bother the fuck out of you, and that’s not fair. The moment I laid eyes on you, I needed you and I didn’t want you with anyone else. In High School, I knew I didn’t have a chance, but college? I told myself that I’d be a version of myself that you deserved. I tried to fit into a roll that I never had any business trying to to even get close to. I really want to be that guy for you, Hummingbird. The guy. My actions never follow up, and...I know it’s on me and I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did about you loving Travis. I know how much you love the both of us, it’s never been a question, and that was a low blow. I’m really sorry, Lloyd.

“I love you, Hummingbird.”

“I love you too, Huckleberry.”

“Maybe we should start leaving certain things off the table?”

“Maybe we should start learning how to control our tempers,” you giggled as he made his way into the bed room. He was slow to get to the bed, but was quick to pull you close. “I want to save this “dead end marriage”, because you and Travis are my entire life and I need to start acting like it.”

“Why is it so simple for you in these moments, but-”

“Please don’t ask, because I don’t fucking know. I really don’t, but I know that I do truly want to make this work. I know I don’t always act like it or always show it, but I fucking mean it, Hummingbird. I exist for you and Travis and you and Travis alone. I will be better, and I know I keep saying that and fucking up, but I will be.”

“Lloyd, would it be so terrible if we just walked away-”

“You know it would be. Don’t do that. Don’t ask questions-”

“We’re always hurting one another-”

“No, I’m always hurting you and lashing out at you when you rightfully get angry. Losing you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever dealt with, with almost losing Travis coming in at number one with almost dying. Being without either of you is something I can’t do.”

“Lloyd...” you trailed off with a sob.

“Hummingbird,” he cooed softly as he gripped your waist and pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him, “we can do this. You’re right when you say this isn’t college and we can’t keep going on like we have, and I know it’s on me. It’s on me and I swear I’m gonna do better. Please, just don’t give up on us. It’s a hard ask, but please.”

“Lloyd...”

“Please,” he begged softly before he started to litter the side of your neck with soft and desperate kisses. “Please.”

That’s when you were always at war with yourself. You knew what came with the soft and sweet moments: the darkness and chaos of his world. However, Lloyd is your world, and walking away isn’t as easy as everyone would like for it to be.

“How’re you?” Travis asked via FaceTime as you took a seat at the patio outside. “Where’s Dad?”

“I’m good. We both are. He’s at the grocery store.”

“Are you two coming back soon? I love Gran and Poppy, but they’re driving me crazy. I asked to go and see Nana and Pop-pop and Gran damn near threw a fit.”

“Travis!”

“Well, she did!” he huffed as he settled onto his bed. “How did you even end up with Dad? Your families are so different. You two are so different.”

“Sometimes opposites just attract,” you sighed, knowing where it was headed.

“I just don’t get it. Dad’s an asshole. He’s either here and ruining everyone’s mood, or he’s buried in work and acting like we don’t exist.”

“He’s adjusting. It’s hard, Trav. We’re all adjusting, because the life we’re trying to have now is a lot different from the one we had before.”

“Yeah, but you left him.”

“It’s not because I don’t love him anymore. Honey, we both love each other so much, and your Father would do absolutely anything for you.”

“I know,” he muttered.

“He’s trying, baby.”

“Well, he needs to try harder.”

“Travis, I know it’s hard, trust me, but you have to have patience with him. No matter what happens between he and I, he’s always going to be your Father and he thinks the world of you. Even if he doesn’t always act like it.”

“I just wish he could be normal.”

“There’s no such thing as normal, sweetie. I hate to break it to you.”

“Normal dads don’t punch other dads in the face.”

“He was being a total dick and it was more than warranted. Sometimes, your Dad shows his love with his fists.”

“But it’s a problem when I do it.”

“When you start making a living off if, maybe I’ll reconsider it,” you smiled sarcastically as you took a sip of wine. “Just...give him a chance, honey. He stopped doing field work to be closer to home and keep an eye on us, but it’s a major change for him too. It’s a major change for all of us, and we’re all doing our best.”

“I liked him a lot more when he wasn’t home.”

“Travis...please. If you only knew just how much he truly loves you.”

“What does he even do?”

“You know he works with your Godfather.”

“Doing what?”

“Things you’re not old enough to know about yet, and you don’t want to know about.”

“I’ve almost died twice-”

“And he feels terrible about that! Travis, I’ve only ever seen your Father cry once, and it was when you were fighting for your life. He still hates himself for that.”

“Mom-”

“Travis, he’s not a bad guy. He may gray the area sometimes, but when it comes to this family, he’s not a bad guy. Please.”

“I know that he loves me, and I love him. I want us all to be together, but not if he’s going to keep-”

“He’s not. Travis, I promise. He knows that things have to change and he’s determined to make those changes. Please, just be patient. I know you’ve dealt with a lot, but everyone is doing their absolute best. It’s going to get better. No matter what happens between your Father and I, things are going to get better for you.”

“Do I really get to be home schooled?”

“Yup, it was all your Dad’s doing.”

“Really?”

“Yup, he finally gets it.”

“I miss going to the aquarium with him.”

“Have you told him?”

“No.”

“Do you think you should?”

“He doesn’t seem to wanna be bothered by me.”

“Trav, he misses you too. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to spend time with you. He thinks you hate him.”

“Well, I think he doesn’t give a shit about me.”

“Travis, I swear to God-’

“Gran doesn’t care!”

“And look how your Father turned out. There’s no fucking structure in that family,” you muttered before you could stop yourself, “do NOT say that.”

“Everyone can swear except me.”

“Stop being in such a rush to grow up. It sucks,” you laughed before taking a sip of your drink.

“Can we all go to a movie or something when you two get back?”

“Funny you should ask, because your Dad got us tickets to a Patriots game next week-”

“HE DID?!”

“He thought it’d be make you happy,” he laughed softly. “He really wants to make things right, honey. I know it’s a lot and it’s not easy, but he’s trying. Just give him time, okay?”

“Fine. I guess it’s not-”

“TRAVY!” Stef, Lloyd’s Mother called and you rolled your eyes.

“I swear to God that’s the dumbest nickname ever,” you scowled.

“Why do you hate her so much?”

“I don’t hate your Grandmother, she’s just...a lot to deal with. Look at your Father.”

“You chose him.”

“That I did,” you laughed. “Go see what she wants before she has a breakdown. I love you and your dad and I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“I love you too, Mom. I can’t wait till you’re both back,” he smiled before hanging up.

For just a moment, your heart felt lighter and you were happier, but it all went away when you saw Lloyd leaning against the doorway.

“How much did you hear?” you asked softly.

“Lets go for a hike, Hummingbird,” he shrugged as he pushed himself off the door frame and slid his shoes back on.

“Lloyd-”

“It makes no sense to come all the way out here and not doing something you love. It’s been forever, c’mon.”

The drive was silent, and the hike was silent too, until you reached the waterfalls and you two took a seat.

“He hates me,” Lloyd muttered after a moment.

“Lloyd-”

“Don’t try to butter me up, Hummingbird. He hates-”

“He doesn’t hate you, Huckleberry, he just doesn’t know you. At least, not anymore. Who you were before the incident and who you are now...you’re not the same with him.”

“I don’t want him to be soft and unprotected-”

“You don’t have to be your Father, Lloyd. It’s best if you aren’t,” you chuckled humorlessly.

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Look at our family, Huckleberry. Look at us. No, your Father isn’t terrible, but he’s the farthest from the best.”

“You love me.”

“And I’m still trying to figure out why,” you smirked.

“Come here,” he encouraged with a devilish smirk.

“Lloyd-”

“Come rest in my lap, Hummingbird.”

You knew that it would only lead to trouble, but you couldn’t stop yourself as you straddled him.

“Daddy-”

“Remember the last time we were in front of a waterfall? That’s when you got pregnant with Travis.”

“Daddy-”

“Lets see if we can recreate that night...minus the bonfire,” he chuckled before he started biting sucking on your sweet spot.

Yes, a lot of days (if not all of them) had ended with sex, but it was nothing like when you two were fucking to avoid the problem at hand. You two were making love because you wanted to make up for lost time and because you both just wanted to feel close again. It feels like it’s been forever since you and Lloyd just got to hangout and you truly did miss your best friend.

“I think our son is gonna kill your parents,” you giggle as you make your way out onto the upper deck.

“Yeah, I just got off the phone with him a few minutes ago. Next time, we’ll leave him with your parents,” he mutters as he pulls you down onto his lap.

“How’d that conversation go?”

“Good. He wants to go to the aquarium when we get back. Just me and him, he thanked me for finally deciding on home schooling, and I apologized for being a complete jackass for the last few months...and before that.”

“Both my boys finally getting along again,” you sigh a small smile on your lips as you rest your head on his shoulder. “I feel bad. We should rent this house again and bring him next time. He’d love it. Like his Mother, he’d hate the drive, but he’d love it here.”

“We can bring him here whenever we want. This is our house.”

“I’m sorry, come again?! you exclaim, sitting up and looking directly at him.

“It’s ours,” he chuckles, perfect showing just a bit, “well, if you decide you want there to be an us. I had it built for you. No matter what you decide, I wanted to give you something big, and I feel like this is a good start.”

“Lloyd...”

“We’ve been together for how long and I just did this for you? I owe you so much, and I figure this was the easiest to start with.”

“Lloyd! This had to cost a fortune!”

“Don’t worry about it-”

“Oh God, who did you kill?”

“What does that mean?”

“Whenever you’ve told me not to worry about something, it’s because you killed someone.”

“Name one time-”

“The boss I had before my last one. I told you that I didn’t get the promotion, and the very next day, I had the promotion and my boss was dead.”

“He was an asshole.”

“You still killed him.”

“You let me fuck you so hard we broke the bed. You didn’t seem too torn up about it.”

“I called you a piece of shit all night,” you retort with an eye roll.

“Well, not all night. You did let stick that-”

“LLOYD!”

“I didn’t kill anyone, Jesus Christ,” he laughs, grip on you tightening a little. “Denny did.”

“Jesus!”

“It was all business related. I’m a million miles away from it. Any way, the person who needed the favor, offered Denny anything he wanted, Denny asked me what I wanted, and I said I wanted this.”

“Why did he ask you what you wanted?”

“He feels bad. He doesn’t care about much, but he cares about this family cause it’s his too, and he can’t help but feel slightly responsible for the current state we’re in.”

“Do my ears deceive me? Are Lloyd Hansen and Denny Carmichael actually...soft?” you question with a gasp, feigning surprise.

“Watch it, Hummingbird,” he warns and you flip him off.

“You don’t scare me, Hansen. My crazy can match yours.”

“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”

“You were nervous to propose to me?” you question, remembering how quickly he changed the subject once he pulled up to the house.

“Of course I was,” he scoffs as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You didn’t seem nervous.”

“Why do I feel like you wanna have a long talk about this?”

“Because you’re as smart as you are pretty,” you smile sarcastically and he rolls his eyes.

“Inside, Hummingbird. If we’re gonna talk about my fucking feelings, I’m gonna need a fucking drink.”

“That’s not a good habit,” you mumble as he picks you up and forces your legs around his waist.

“Yeah well, you have me in a rare position and that’s terrifying to me too,” he shrugs while opening the screen door, smirking as he looks down your exposed cleavage in your low-cut shirt.

“What position is that?” you giggle as he rushes down the stairs.

“The position of me giving you whatever your heart desires.”

“Except quitting,” you sigh as he places you on the kitchen counter.

“You and I both know there’s gotta be some work around from me quitting. I agree, I need to handle all of this shit better, but quit and do what, Hummingbird?”

“You could be a coach, open your own weapons store, work on the analytics team for the Patriots, work for fucking Harvard-”

“You know good and fucking well that none of those jobs will keep me and my issues at bay.”

“Lloyd-”

“Can we have one argument at a time?”

“I don’t wanna argue about this!”

“We always argue about it! This is what the hold up is with our relationship, isn’t it? You’re in love with someone who’s fucked up in multiple ways, and I won’t let you go because you and Travis are the one thing in this world that I actually give a damn about. The one thing that you can’t deal with is the job, and it’s not even because it makes you look at me in a different light. You’ve seen what I’ve done, you’ve done what I’ve done, and you get it. The issue isn’t that you hate what I do, it’s that it’s a risk a to Travis, and you hate that. You hate it because you should be repulsed by what I do and how I am, and it should’ve been enough to make you walk away years ago, but it wasn’t. Now, you have an unhinged husband and a child fighting for normalcy, and unlike me, us having a child was enough for you to realize that things needed to change.”

“Then why can’t you-”

“BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO, HUMMINGBIRD!” he shouts, and you feel his heart break at his confession. “I am not like you! I can’t just look at the fucked up shit I do and say, “it’s time to find something else.”! No, I keep thinking I can fix everything and save everyone, because I don’t know how to be normal around our son without doing all of the dark bullshit you don’t want to know about! So yes, that is where we keep getting stuck, because neither of us can find a solution!”

“Lloyd-”

“I know I’m not easiest to love, Hummingbird. I know that I’ve made all of this hard since day one, but you stayed despite all of it. You stayed and made me feel normal and safe, and how could I not fall more in love with you? Now, this is where we are, and I can’t fucking blame you, I really can’t, but I can’t let either of you go. You want me to lay all my cards on the table? There they are. I don’t know how to be the man you need me to be without this job,” he sighs before he downs his drink.

You don’t even know how to respond, because everything he said is right. You hate that you’ve always been able to stomach and look away from the shit he does, because of how he is with you. Lloyd is capable of a lot of horrible things, but for you? He’s always been your knight in shinning armor. Granted, he’s a chaotic knight and shinning armor, but he’s still yours nonetheless. The fact of the matter is, if his job wasn’t so dangerous to Travis, you’d still look the other way. You’d look the other way, pretend it was all normal and okay, and go on with your happy family.

The reality of this makes you face a harsh truth: maybe Lloyd was never the issues. Maybe its always been you.

“Why were you nervous to propose?” you ask softly, faint smile playing on your lips as you blink back your tears.

“Hummingbird-”

“Why?”

“The same I’m nervous now: you don’t need me.”

“Lloyd-”

“It’s not a slight at you, Hummingbird, it’s just a fact. You’re smart as a whip, you can get any job you want, you’re gorgeous, you’re strong...you don’t nee me. Maybe that’s what always attracted me to you, maybe it’s what made me want to be better, and maybe it’s what drives me insane. What the hell would you ever need me for? To raise a kid? Travis is clearly better off with you,” he scoffs as he pours himself a drink and pours you one of your own. “Its been clear from day one that you don’t need shit from me, and that terrified me, because I needed you. I’ve always needed you and and I always will. You’re the normal one, I’m not,” he smirks as he puts your drink down next to you before settling between your legs.

“Huckleberry...”

“I need you to reel me back in, I need you to make simple fucking meals, I need you to tell me when I’m getting too high off the ground, I need your love, I need your patience, I need to hear your laughter, I need your understanding, I need your guidance...I needed you and I’ve never needed anyone. Even now, I need you more than you’ve ever needed me-”

“I really wish you knew how much that isn’t true. Lloyd...I didn’t feel like I was alive until I started...hanging out with you,” you laugh softly. “I’m able to be such a good Mom, because I know Travis has you to fall back on, if that makes any sense. I know you’re always in his corner, wanting the best for him, and always loving him. The love I know you feel for him is what keeps me strong when I feel like I’m doing all of this wrong. You attempting to make breakfast when I’m too tired and/or worn out to do it, you taking him for an extra week when you could tell that I needed to decompress over whatever war I’d gone through with my Mother...you know me, Lloyd. You know me better than anyone else ever has, and you’ll always know me better than anyone else ever will.”

“Tell me we can make this work,” he begs softly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I really want us to, and you’re right. You’re 100% right. If Travis weren’t in the picture, I would be able to keep continuing to stomach it and look the other way, but I can’t anymore. I love him too much- “

“You don’t think I do too?!”

“I never said that. I know you do, Lloyd-”

“Then why can’t you just trust-”

“Lloyd we’ve almost lost him twice. Something’s gotta give, Huckleberry. I can’t live in the constant state of fear and anxiety. I love you, but I can’t do it anymore. It’s not fair to Travis and it’s not fair to me.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Lloyd, you always-”

“Hummingbird, I will figure this out. Just...please,” he begs softly.

You look up into his eyes and you can tell that he means everything he’s saying. There’s still a part of you that’s telling you, you two should just stop now and save each from more battle wounds, but there’s also a bigger part of you that you and Lloyd aren’t finished yet and never will be.

“Lloyd, I’m done with the arguing, the back and forth, and you’ve gotta keep your shit together around Travis. Even if you and I are having an argument.”

“I swear.”

“Lloyd, I fucking mean it. I can’t keep being the only who gives while you just take-”

“Hummingbird, I swear, shit is gonna change. But don’t...”

His heavy sigh lets you know that he’s at war with himself about what he’s going to say.

“Jesus...I love you, Y/N. I will never stop and you’re my world. You and Travis...don’t say yes to me if this isn’t what you truly want. It was different before, and I get that. What I did, what you saw me do...if you want to leave, if you don’t truly want this anymore....Hummingbird...this is your out, cause if you say you’re staying then this is it. There’s no leaving, breaking up, time apart, separating...this is it, Hummingbird. If you want to end it all for good, you need to say so now,” he tells you sincerely.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you cup his face, “that is a hell of thing for you to say to me.”

Instantly, Lloyd picking you up, forcing your legs around his waist, and running towards the stairs as you burst out laughing.

“Lloyd! I have to make dinner!” you squeal as he effortlessly runs up the steps.

“Fuck dinner, What I want is right between those fucking perfect legs of yours!”

“Lloyd!”

“We’re in for a long night, Mrs. Hansen.”

As you and Lloyd keep each other up, getting lost in each other repeatedly and almost breaking the damn bed (again), an oddly calming feeling that you’ve never with him before. Yes, you’ve been in love with him forever, but there’s always been a sense of dread and stress in the back of your mind. It’s obviously never been enough for you to walk away, but it’s been enough to always make you wonder what exactly is wrong with you to stay in a relationship a very obvious sociopath.

However, as you two finally get back into the kitchen and you start on dinner as he goes over what he wants for wedding number two, something tells you that it’s gonna work out this time. You don’t know what it is, you don’t wanna think too much on what it could be, but you’ve felt this at ease before and you know it’s gonna be okay.

For the first time in a very long time, you know things are finally go the way they’re supposed to go.

4 Months Later...

“Where is he?!” you asked frantically as you made your into the frat house, seeing two guys with bloodied (and you’re assuming broken) noses, and one guy laid out with a black eye.

“In the game room, drunk as fuck,” Denny mumbled as he gave one of the guys an ice pack.

“What the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know, Y/N. You know how he is. Lloyd is a fucking time bomb. One second, he’s fine and the next...”

“Why has no one ever fucking considered putting him on meds?!”

“I thought you met his parents three months ago?”

“Something had to trigger it though. What happened leading up to this brawl to end all brawls?” you scowled as you looked around the room.

There was one broken coffee table, multiple broken lamps, a shattered fish tank, a couple of broken chairs, a few destroyed pillows, and a broken desk.

You left him alone for two fucking days.

“I honestly don’t know. There was some fucking movie on...’Tombstone’, I think? I don’t know, it was on when I got here, anyway, there was some fucking scene with Doc Holliday in the hospital and his girl wasn’t there with him and Tim said “that goes to show that none of these bitches stick around when it gets tough.” Lloyd just lost it.”

“Fuck, I’ll take care of this-”

“Y/N, he’s not in a good mindset at all. Leave him alone.”

“I can handle him, Denny. You just make sure no one presses charges,” you told him softly before you made your way into the game room.

You took a deep breath before you closed the door behind you.

“What the fuck do you want?!” Lloyd slurred once his attention was on you, “don’t you have to go and study or some shit?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! It’s 2pm on a fucking Sunday!”

“I haven’t heard from you in two fucking days!”

“No, you haven’t seen me in two fucking days! Lloyd-”

“You’re gonna leave and I don’t need to deal with that shit, so, fuck you!”

“Lloyd, I swear to Christ-”

“You have no fucking reason to stay! Why? Because I killed some piece of shit for you?!”

“Lower your fucking voice, you idiot!” you snapped in a hushed tone as you made your way deeper into the room.

“What fucking reason do you have-”

“I just fucking told you I love you!”

“Two days ago and then you fucking disappeared on me-”

“I didn’t fucking disappear! I’m not you! I can’t just do whatever the hell I want because I’m on my parent’s money! I have to keep my grades up and study! I can’t be with you every fucking five seconds, because you need to be fucking babied!”

“You’re so full of shit!”

“Lloyd, I swear to God-”

“There’s something wrong with me, Hummingbird! What fucking reason do you have to stay with me?! What’s keeping you here?!”

“You,” you answered simply.

“Y/N-”

“Lloyd, I didn’t tell you I love you because you said it first. I said it because I meant it and I still do now. You don’t think I see the issues and the flaws? Of course I do. I saw them that night, but I still came back, didn’t I? I love you. For as flawed and fucked up as this all is, I still love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Doc Holliday’s wife-”

“It’s a fucking movie, Lloyd.”

“Based on real life!”

“Yeah, but you’re not Doc Holliday and I’m not Kate. I love you.”

“You’re gonna fucking leave.”

“Do you plan on fucking cheating on me?”

“You know that you’re the only for me.”

“Then we’ll be fine, because I feel the same about you. I love you and I’m in this. Yeah, you’re fucked up, but...I don’t know, we’ll figure it out. No one is perfect and this life isn’t some cookie cutter bullshit. I just know that how we feel about each other is real and it’s too fucking late for me to walk away because you’re unhinged.”

“Hummingbird-”

“I’m all in, Huckleberry, are you?”

“You’re just gonna push me to the side when all of this becomes too much for you.”

“That is a hell of a thing for you to say to me,” you smiled softly at him.

In no time at all, Lloyd picked up and placed you on the pool table, and kissed you passionately.

“Not here,” you giggled as he kissed down your jawline, “someone could walk in!”

“Then they’re welcome for giving them the best porno they’ll ever see,” he growled against your neck before biting down on it.

How did that whole situation feel like a lifetime ago?

“Why the hell did we invite both of our families over?” Lloyd whines as he makes his way into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you put the last layer of lasagna together.

“Because this is officially our new home, Travis has been doing really good with his homeschooling, you two have been getting along really well, we’ve been getting along really well, the wedding is back on track...I don’t know, it just felt like the thing to do,” you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“What are you not telling me, Hummingbird?”

“Now, why would you think I’m not telling you something?”

“Because I know that look and you’re keeping a secret.”

“How dare you say such a thing?”

“Hummingbird,” he growls into your neck as he grips your hips tight, “remember what happened the last time you tried to keep it a secret from me?”

“Daddy, you need to behave,” you moan, trying to ignore the arousal pooling between your legs.

“You ended up pregnant with Travis.”

“Both of our families are here, so you need to be on your best-”

“Dad,” Travis calls, clearly annoyed as he enters the kitchen.

“What,” Lloyd groans as buries his face into the crook of your neck and you start cracking up.

“Please come out here and break up this argument.”

“What the fuck-”

“Lloyd!” you snap.

“What the hell is going on out there?”

“Gran and Nana are about to kill each other.”

“Which means my Mother is about to kill your Mother,” you mumble and Lloyd scowls.

“How is it, that both of our Fathers are here, and I still have to deal with this shit?”

“This is our present for not calling off the wedding. Go handle it.”

“Yeah fine, but we’re not done talking about this,” he warns before slapping your ass, letting go of you, and making himself a drink. “You,” he shoots towards Travis, “what did you try and do to resolve the issue?”

“I asked which one of them wanted to take me to that amusement park in Paris you told me about,” Travis shrugs and you almost fell over laughing.

He’s a Hansen indeed.

“Jesus Christ, you’re coming with me to resolve this shit.”

“OH MY GOD, LLOYD!”

“He’ll be fine,” Lloyd smirks, as Travis chuckles before he walks off. “You know, this could’ve just been you, me, Travis, and Denny.”

“GO!” you scold with a laugh.

You’re quick to flip Lloyd off and laughs before walking out after Travis, and shake your head as a soft smile plays on your lips, and you resume finishing up the lasagna.

“Hummingbird,” Lloyd calls softly as he pokes his head back into the kitchen.

“Yes, Huckleberry?” you answer absentmindedly, as you open the oven.

“I love you.” Your eyes well up as you look up and meet his gaze, heart bursting at the innocent smile on his face, “I love you.”

He gives you a small wink, before going back and dealing with the chaos that is the both of your families.

Once the lasagna is in the oven, you lean back against the counter and think about that night in his frat house. The night where he was convinced that you would leave him, because there was no reason to stay, and a small smile came to your face. No, not because of how much he claimed to have needed you (in a way), but because of how far you two had come. Yeah, it’s been ugly and bumpy at times, but you two made your way back to each other.

A few weeks after you two got back, he tried to convince you that the two of you didn’t need therapy anymore, because the trip had gone so well. However, the look in your eyes let him know that he wasn’t get anywhere near close to winning that argument.

He’s gotten better at spending time with Travis, he does his best to not come home from work in a bad mood because he’s still doing paperwork (however, it’s still being worked on), he’s hands on with Travis and his school work, and he’s even started volunteering to be the coach of Travis’ football team.

You two have finally become the couple you always dreamt you’d be. You two are meant to be...for the most part.

“Someone seems pretty fucking proud of herself,” Denny chuckles as he makes his way into the kitchen, and you roll your eyes. “I just want you to know that I officially think you’re crazier than Lloyd, why the fuck would you have both you families here at the same time?”

“It just felt like it was time,” you mumble, “thanks for the house, by the way.”

“No problem. What did you feel like it was time for?”

“Denny-”

“I’m really proud of you two. Mainly, I’m proud of you for making that stubborn jackass see that it’s okay to have a soft side.”

“He’ll kill you if he ever finds out you said that. You know that right?”

“After all the shit I’ve saved his ass from, he’ll be fine. How are you managing both your families here with no wine or cigarettes?”

“Close your eyes and hold your breath long enough, it all just sounds like background noise.”

“It’s just funny to me, because the last time you did something like this-”

“MOTHER, CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” Lloyd roars, and you can already tell this is about to get ugly.

“Oh, what the fuck is it now?” you whine as you and Denny make your way outside.

The scene in front of you makes your blood boil in almost an instant. The hors d’oeuvres you made are all over the table and the ground, there are broken wine glasses, Travis is sulking at the end of the table, Lloyd is covered in wine, and they’re two broken plates on the ground.

“What the fuck is going on?!” you scream, thankful that Denny is there to hold you back from lunging at...anyone, honestly.

“Y/N, watch your mouth in front of-”

“No!” you instantly snap at your Mother, as Lloyd quickly makes his way to your side, “you all are ruining my family’s home and I want answers! What the hell is the matter with all of you?! And why didn’t you two do anything to stop it?!” you snap at both and Lloyd’s Fathers.

“She started it!” Stef, Lloyd’s Mother yells, causing your Mother to throw a fork at her in response.

“MOM!”

“Travis wanted to come and see me while you two were away, and she wouldn’t allow it!”

“You don’t let him have any fun!”

“There’s no structure in your household! Look at how your son turned out!”

“I’m sorry, doesn’t your daughter live off of my son?!”

“Sure, that’s why your son defended me instead of his own Mother!”

“Oh my GOD! THE BOTH OF YOU NEED TO SHUT UP!” you yell, contemplating throwing something at the both of them. “Travis, are you okay?”

“Just another lovely family gathering,” he mutters with a shrug, and it breaks your heart.

“Listen, I am only going to say this once, so everyone listen closely. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with everyone and, at this point, I frankly don’t give a damn. Lloyd and I have been together long enough that, whatever petty bullshit you all have against each other should be over and dealt with by now!”

“You knew what you were signing up for when we all first met for the first time,” Lloyd’s father, Robert, laughs as he picks up his scotch and takes a sip of it.

You don’t even think about it, you just take off one of your flip-flops and throw it a him, hitting him directly in the head as Lloyd tries to stifle his laughter.

“Now,” you continue as you glare at Robert, “whatever issues Lloyd and I had in the past are our issues. Whatever issues we may or may not have in the future will be ours to deal with. All of this petty arguing ends now! I put a nice fucking dinner together to announce to all of you that I’m two months pregnant, and this is how you all act?!”

“I knew you were pregnant!” Denny exclaims and you glare at him. “What? I did. That’s the only reason you would be around all of these people with a drink or cigarettes,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“Anyway,” you begin again, “YOU’RE ALL FUCKING ADULTS! GROW UP AND ACT LIKE IT!” you snip and you hear a small gasp leave Lloyd lips. “I let you all act like this when Travis was born and raised him around this, but I’m not making that mistake again! Get your shit together or forget about coming to the wedding, and forget about being apart of Travis’ and this unborn child’s life! I’m so sick and tired of having to referee grown ass people! Now, clean all of this shit up!” you snap before getting out of Lloyd’s hold and turning around and making your way back inside. “You come into our house, throw around food I took forever to make, and break our shit?! ACT LIKE YOU’VE GOT SOME DAMN SENSE!” you scream as you make your way upstairs, limping slightly since you’re only wearing one shoe.

No, you probably shouldn’t have yelled at a room of adults, but you’ve had enough. You and Lloyd have been through the lowest levels of hell and back, and are finally in a good place, and for whatever reason they can’t seem to figure their shit out.

You sit down and lay back on the bed, pulling Lloyd’s pillow close and taking in his scent, before letting out a loud sigh.

You can’t say that you’re all that surprised.

“I’m sorry, your Mom said what to Mrs. Hansen?!” Tina exclaimed as she plopped down next to you on your dorm room bed.

“Tina-”

“I’m sorry, but this is the most chaotic meeting of parents I’ve ever heard! What the fuck?!”

“God, it went so bad so fast.”

“Okay wait, start from the beginning.”

“Alright, I told my parents a week ago that Lloyd and I started dating, and my Mom was immediately pissed, because she remembered him and his family from High School, and hated them. So, she was already unwilling to give them a chance, but my Dad talked her into it. Somehow, the fact that Lloyd and his family said that it was their treat made it worse and-”

“Why didn’t you tell him no?! You know how prideful your Mother is!”

“I did, but he insisted! He really wanted to do it, because he really wanted to make a good impression on them, and he was set on it, so I didn’t really have much of a choice. Anyway, after a lot of back and forth, everyone finally agreed to give him a fair chance. So, as per their choice, we all met up at that place Toscano-”

“Harvard Square?! I’ve always wanted to go there!”

“Yeah well, it only seemed to make things worse, because the moment my Mother saw the place she rolled her eyes and scowled.”

“Ah shit.”

“Exactly. Now, in Lloyd’s defense, he really did try to make up for his parents...rudeness,” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “He just wanted to show my parents that I’m with someone who can take care of me. Anyway, the more Lloyd’s Mother drank, the more disrespectful she became. The more my Mom, the more fed up she got. Then, Lloyd’s Mom said something about how my Mom should’ve gone shopping with her for better shoes to go with her outfit, and it just...it went so bad so fast. Things were said, food was thrown, drinks were tossed, glasses got broken, and eventually the cops showed up.”

“Oh my God,” Tina gasped as she covered her mouth.

“That’s when my Mom called Lloyd’s Mom a low-class vapid baby making machine, who’s gonna end up used up and alone.”

“Holy shit!”

“God, it was so embarrassing. Lloyd paid for all the food, including what didn’t get brought out of the kitchen, and over tipped literally everyone who was working there, while his Father paid for all the damages and told him he’d pay for any upgrades they’d ever wanna make to the place. It’s amazing that we weren’t banned from the place, but I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to go back in there.”

“Jesus. What did Lloyd say?”

“Well, he screamed at both of his parents, I couldn’t even look at mine, and then he just apologized the entire time he drove us back to campus. He’s convinced I’m gonna break up with him, but I don’t know why the hell he’d wanna stay with me.”

“Well, why do you wanna stay with him? If his parents are this terrible, and he’s so terrible-”

“He’s not his parents, Tina. I don’t know, once he puts his ego aside, he’s really not that bad.”

“Babe-”

“Tina, look who you’re talking to. I know how terrible he is. How terrible he can be, but I love him. I know it’s probably not in my best interest, and there’s no way for me to try and explain it, but I’m in love with him and he’s in love with me. Maybe it’ll all fizzle out and maybe it’ll last forever, but for now, we’re determined to be together and make it work.”

“And your families?”

“We’ll figure it out along the way,” you shrugged.

You wipe your eyes at the memory, missing how simple all of it you used to be. Sometimes, you really miss Tina.

“I can hear those wheels turning a mile away,” Lloyd chuckles as he stands in the doorway. “You okay?”

“How’s your Dad?” you ask, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples.

“He’s fine. Shocked, but he’s fine. I think my parents are rightfully afraid of you.”

“It’s about fucking time,” you scoff as Lloyd takes a seat beside you on your side of the bed.

“How are you and our child?” he asks with a smirk.

“Hungry and grumpy,” you pout as you sit up. “I’m sorry, I just wanted us to have something nice. Everything’s been going so well, therapy finally feels like it’s getting us on path to a better future, the wedding is coming along great...I just wanted us to have a nice moment as a family, because it’s been so long since we’ve all been together for a good reason. Even when we had our first big dinner after Travis completed therapy, that was a shit show too. I just...I wanted something nice for a change. I made everyone’s favorite snacks, the lasagna that you and Travis love, I got everyone’s favorite drinks...just for them to shit on it like they always do. I’m sorry. Thanks for defending my Mom by the way.”

“It’s fine, and your Mom was right. My Mother was being a bitch, I’m done letting her disrespect your Mother like that. Besides, it’s honestly been long overdue for you to throw something at my Dad,” he smirks and you let out a small laugh. “I do have a surprise for you, though.”

“You kicked everyone out?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that great but,” he smiles, “I think it’s a pretty great second place. I’m going to train the new hires of the private sector.’ “...what?”

“I won’t be doing paperwork that drives me insane every fucking day, I’ll be home at a time that’ll make you happy daily, no more missions or trips, and I won’t be so damn irritable all the fucking time. Yeah, I’ll be teaching these shitheads torture on actual prisoners, but there will be no blow back. I come in, I train, I come home.”

“Lloyd, please don’t fuck with me,” you beg as your eyes start to water.

“Hummingbird, I told you that I’m gonna make changes, and I meant it. I want to give you and Travis the world, and I know that a huge part of that has to do with this damn job. No, I’m not leaving it all together, but I’m keeping all of us out of harms way.”

“Lloyd...”

“I love you, Y/N, and I’m not losing you again. I’m done being difficult, I’m done causing arguments over things that are obviously my fault, I’ll get better with controlling my temper around Travis-”

“And your language.”

“Hummingbird, it’s one or the other, I’m not perfect,” he tells knowingly and you roll your eyes. “The point is, I was serious about being and doing better for Travis. We’re going to be the family you’ve always wanted and I’m gonna do my best to keep being the man you’ve always been able to rely on. I love you,” he smiles at you.

You practically knock him over with the hug you give him, and he chuckles into the crook of your neck as he hugs you back.

“Relax you, you’re carrying my child,” he teases as you two break apart, and you flip him off before drying your eyes. “Do you know what it’s gonna be?”

“Uh huh,” you smile excitedly as you nod your head.

“Seriously? We’re having a girl?!”

“One of each, just like you’ve always wanted,” you laugh.

This time, he almost knocks you over.

“Please stop,” Travis groans as he makes his way into the bedroom, and both you and Lloyd as you break apart and look at him. “I’m gonna have a little sister?” he asks, small smile tugging at his lips as he gets on the bed from Lloyd’s side.

“That’s right, so get ready to defend her against all these little assholes running around,” Lloyd smirks and Travis laughs.

“Lloyd, at least when I’m around, please,” you whine.

“Are you sure you two are gonna be together forever this time? Cause they’re all downstairs agreeing that this isn’t gonna work, and Uncle Denny is drinking and watching sports highlights,” he sighs while laying his head on your shoulder.

“Of course those assholes want us to fall apart...again,” you scowl.

“Now who needs to watch her mouth,” Lloyd quips with a smug smirk, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Guys,” Travis groans.

“I’m positive we’re gonna stay together, Trav,” Lloyd smiles at him reassuringly.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because,” he shrugs as his gaze falls on you, “a Huckleberry is nothing without his Hummingbird.

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