#but I’m wearing a t-shirt over it and you can’t tell it’s there!!

[dinosnaurnuggets]

Ok ok ok I am SO EXCITED!!!!! I bought myself a corset for the first time and immediately tried it on and I LOVE IT!!! AAAHHHHH!!!!

[pucksandpower]

Baby Steps

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you are barely staying afloat, desperately trying to wrap your mind around your impending motherhood while juggling being a press officer for Scuderia Ferrari … Charles shows you that you don’t have to do it alone

Warnings: pregnancy, family abandonment, and harassment

You grip the edges of the trash can tightly as your stomach lurches again. The half-digested remains of your breakfast spill into the plastic liner with a sickening splatter. Straightening up slowly, you take a few deep breaths and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. The smell rising from the can makes your stomach roll threateningly once more.

Turning away quickly, you lean against the side of the Ferrari motorhome, eyes closed. The sun beats down relentlessly, and you can feel sweat beading at your hairline.

This “morning” sickness is no joke — it seems to strike at all hours of the day. You thought you had gotten away with a quick breakfast break an hour ago when Carlos was in a team briefing, but apparently not.

Footsteps on the gravel make you open your eyes. You pray it’s not a member of the press, or, god forbid, Carlos. The last thing you need is a photo of the Ferrari press officer tossing her cookies behind the paddock. But no, it’s Charles Leclerc striding towards you, his brow furrowed.

You straighten up and attempt nonchalance. “Good morning, Charles.”

He slows, glancing between you and the extremely obvious trash can of vomit. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah, fine,” you say breezily. “Just a bit of food poisoning, I think. Had a questionable chicken salad for dinner yesterday.”

You notice Charles is wearing a soft grey t-shirt and track pants, his hair damp from the shower. He must have just finished with physiotherapy. He looks so effortlessly handsome, it’s frankly unfair. You suddenly feel acutely aware of the sheen of sweat on your face and your limbs heavy with fatigue.

Charles’ face remains creased in concern. “Food poisoning? Have you been to the medical center?”

You wave a hand. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just 24 hours of hell before I’m back to normal.” You attempt a smile, but have to grab the trash can again as the smell from it hits you like a wave.

Charles springs forward and grabs your arm as you retch miserably. “Whoa, take it easy,” he says, supporting you until the heaving subsides.

You stay hunched over, breathing hard. The world is spinning a little. You hear Charles say firmly, “Okay, come with me. Let’s get you sat down.”

He keeps a hand under your arm and leads you into the blessedly cool motorhome. The rich scent of coffee fills the interior, reminding you that you haven’t managed to keep any food down today. You sink gratefully onto a padded bench at one of the tables.

Charles sits opposite you, his green eyes studying you intently. “When did the sickness start?”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. The jig is up. “About four weeks ago,” you mutter.

Understanding dawns on Charles’ face. “Oh. Oh!” His eyes flick down to your still-flat stomach. “So you’re ...”

“Pregnant. Yes.” You drop your head into your hands.

“Well, hey, congratulations,” says Charles gently. “That’s really exciting.”

You huff out something between a sob and a laugh. “Exciting? More like a nightmare!” You run your fingers back through your hair and look desperately at Charles. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even Carlos. I can’t risk anyone finding out about this. If I lose this job ...”

Charles’ brows draw together again. “Why would you lose your job? You’re Carlos’ press officer. I’m sure he’d be thrilled for you.”

You shake your head rapidly. “No, no way. I can’t take time off. The season just started! Carlos needs me, I organize everything for him. The travel, the events, the media, everything!” You bite your lip anxiously. “Maybe … maybe after the baby comes, I can figure something out. But I have to keep this quiet until then. Please.”

Charles reaches over and lays a hand on your arm. His touch is gentle but firm. “Y/N. Working yourself into the ground won’t be good for you or the baby. Have you thought about taking a sabbatical? Just a few months to rest, focus on yourself.”

Panic flares in your chest. “No! No, I can’t.” Your breathing quickens. “You don’t understand — I have no one else. No partner. No family. This job is everything. If I lose it ...” You trail off, trying to blink back the sting of tears.

Charles is silent for a long moment. Then he says, “Okay. I understand this is your decision. And I promise I won’t tell Carlos or anyone else.” He hesitates. “But Y/N, please take care of yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

You nod jerkily and avoid his earnest gaze. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet. The motorhome tilts sickeningly for a second.

Charles rises too, watching you with concern. “Will you be alright?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. You start to head deeper into the motorhome, desperate to lie down before the nausea returns.

“Y/N,” Charles calls after you softly. You pause, glancing back. “Congratulations again. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” He gives you a small, warm smile.

You swallow hard. “Thank you, Charles,” you whisper. Then you turn and continue on unsteadily, one hand braced against the wall.

You make it to the small office that passes for your private quarters on race weekends. Collapsing onto the ergonomic desk chair, you stare up at the ceiling and place a hand over your still-flat belly.

A baby.

Your baby.

Fear and wonder tangle inside you.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you know a hand is gently shaking your shoulder. You jerk awake to find Carlos standing over you, his eyebrows drawn with concern.

“Y/N? Are you ill?”

You stand up too quickly and immediately regret it as the room spins. Carlos grabs your shoulder to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you say hoarsely. “Just needed a quick nap.”

Carlos frowns, clearly unconvinced. “Charles said you were throwing up outside. That you have food poisoning?”

You make a mental note to kill Charles later. “Uh, yeah. Bad chicken salad, I think. But I’ll be okay.” You attempt a reassuring smile.

Carlos sits down on the edge of your desk, watching you closely. “Why didn’t you tell me you were unwell? You know you don’t have to worry about me, I can look after myself for one day.” His dark brown eyes are filled with worry.

Guilt twists your gut. Carlos has always been extraordinarily kind and thoughtful, a rarity in the high stakes world of Formula 1. You hate lying to him.

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just didn’t want to let you down. But you’re right, I should have said something. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head immediately. “No, don’t be sorry. Just focus on feeling better, yes? Take tomorrow off too. I order you to rest,” he adds with a small grin.

You smile weakly back. “Okay, boss.”

Carlos stands and gestures to the tiny table bolted to the wall. “I brought you some tea and crackers. Hopefully you can keep it down.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you checking on me.”

He smiles. “Of course. Feel better, Y/N.” With a last lingering look of concern, he turns and leaves you in peace.

You look at the steaming tea and crackers and feel tears prick your eyes again. Carlos is a good man. Too good, probably, for the pragmatic demands of Formula 1. You know you should tell him about the pregnancy. But the thought of losing your place here, on this team, fills you with dread.

This high stakes world of racing is all you’ve known for the past three years. You can’t imagine life outside the bubble of the paddock, away from the adrenaline and pressure. Away from the team. Away from Carlos. Away from Charles.

With a deep breath, you sit up straight and tear open the crackers. You need to think about this rationally. Maybe Charles is right and you do need to slow down eventually. But for now, for the next few months at least, you have to keep going like nothing has changed.

You place a hand on your stomach as you nibble a cracker. “It’s gonna be okay, little one,” you whisper. “We’ll figure this out.”

***

The smell of coffee turns your stomach these days, but you still make your way blearily to the breakfast buffet each morning. Carlos is an early riser, and you need to be available whenever he is ready to start the day. You scan the offerings, deciding toast is the safest option, and reach for a couple of dry slices.

“Oh, Y/N!”

You turn to see Charles holding out a pre-packaged parfait cup. “I grabbed an extra yogurt by mistake. Do you want it?”

You hesitate. Your first instinct is suspicion — this is the third time this week Charles has “accidentally” had an extra snack to offer you. But the yogurt does look appealing ...

“Sure, thanks,” you say, taking the cup from him. Charles shoots you a smile before grabbing a plate and continuing down the buffet.

You sit down next to Carlos with your toast and yogurt. He glances up from his phone. “Morning. Feeling better today?”

You nod, mouth full. In truth, the nausea has continued, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it from Carlos and powered through.

Charles joins you both a few minutes later, greeted by Carlos with a fist bump. You peel open your yogurt while half-listening to the two men discuss the upcoming practices.

The sweet, fruity parfait is cool and soothing on your sensitive stomach. You find yourself polishing it off in record time. As you scrape the last bit of yogurt from the bottom, you realize Charles is watching you.

“Good?” He asks.

You lick the plastic spoon clean before answering. “Yeah, really hit the spot, thanks.”

Charles’ eyes crinkle with a smile. “No problem. I’ll try to grab two tomorrow.”

You feel your smile grow fixed. This is getting ridiculous. Charles Leclerc does not care this much about your yogurt preferences. He’s up to something.

Over the next week, Charles’ thoughtfulness continues. A cold bottle of water when you’re looking hot and tired. A sandwich from a local bakery when you missed lunch. Your favorite chocolate bar when you mention a craving in passing. Always with an innocent smile, as if he’s not playing Superman to your pretend Lois Lane.

It all comes to a head on race day. You’re in the scorching sun on the grid, already feeling the fatigue of the hectic weekend. Carlos is doing his pre-race routine, so your attention has lapsed. Suddenly a blessedly cold bottle of water appears in front of your face. You look up to see Charles grinning down at you.

“Stay hydrated,” he says with a wink.

That does it. “Okay, enough!” You snap, smacking the water bottle away. It falls to the ground with a thud, water glugging out.

Charles’ eyes go wide with shock. “Y/N?”

Grabbing his arm, you pull Charles several steps away from eavesdropping mechanics. “Why are you doing this?” You hiss. “I don’t need you to baby me!”

“What?” Charles looks completely bewildered. “I’m just trying to help-”

“Well, stop,” you interrupt sharply. The hurt on Charles’ face makes you falter, but you press on. “I don’t need your pity. I’m fine.”

“Pity?” Charles frowns. “It’s not pity, Y/N. I care about you.” He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re always taking care of everyone around you. Now you need someone to take care of you too.”

His kind words hit you like a gut punch. Oh God, the stupid hormones! You feel hot tears spring to your eyes.

Charles’ alarmed expression softens. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you ...” He pulls you into a hug. One hand smoothes your hair while the other rubs comforting circles on your back.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmurs. You cling to him, embarrassed by your raw emotional response but unable to stop the tears.

After a minute the wave passes. You pull back, wiping your eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Nothing is wrong with you. But I understand this is a difficult time.” His expression turns serious. “If you ever need anything, please ask me. I’m here for you.”

Looking up into Charles’ earnest green eyes, you feel a rush of gratitude. Whatever awkwardness lingers between you has evaporated. Charles is a true friend.

You squeeze his hand. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Glancing around, you notice some odd looks from passing crew members. “We should probably get back to work before people think there’s a full-blown soap opera going on over here.”

Charles grins. “Agreed. But this conversation isn’t over. Dinner tonight in my room?” He raises an eyebrow.

You laugh, blinking away the last dampness from your eyes. “It’s a date.”

***

You smooth your hands down your dress as you approach Charles’ hotel suite, suddenly feeling nervous. You’ve been in drivers’ rooms countless times for work, but this feels different. More intimate.

You take a steadying breath and knock. Charles opens the door, looking unfairly handsome in a crisp button down shirt.

“Y/N! Come in.” He steps back to allow you inside.

The suite is spacious and modern, with floor to ceiling windows along one wall looking out over the glittering city. Charles leads you through the living area to a set of glass doors. “I thought we could eat out on the balcony,” he explains, opening the doors with a flourish. “The fresh air will be good for you and baby.”

You step outside and have to stifle a gasp. A small table is elegantly set for two, a vase of flowers in the center. String lights twinkle overhead. “Charles, this is beautiful!”

He looks pleased. “I’m glad you like it.” Pulling out a chair, he gestures for you to sit.

As he takes the seat opposite you, you notice several covered dishes on the table. Charles sees you looking and smiles a bit sheepishly. “I, uh, called my mother earlier.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I asked her what foods she craved when she was pregnant with me and my brother. So I ordered a bunch of that from room service, in hopes there might be something you’d like.”

A lump forms in your throat. You reach over and squeeze his hand. “Charles, that is so incredibly thoughtful.”

Pink tinges his tanned cheeks. “Of course. I want to take care of you.”

You chat comfortably over food and Charles’ excellent choice of wine for you — sparkling grape juice. He relaxes as you praise the chicken and melon he ordered.

When you sit back contentedly, Charles fixes you with a thoughtful look. “So, do you know how far along you are?”

You hesitate. “About three months now.”

He nods. “And have you been to a doctor yet?”

Your fingers find a groove in the wooden table to trace. “Not yet.” At his surprised look, you add defensively, “I’ve just been so busy with work. But I’m sure everything is fine.”

“Still, you should make an appointment soon. Just to be safe.” Charles’ tone is gentle.

You nod without meeting his eye. An uncomfortable beat passes.

“Do you ...” Charles pauses delicately. “Forgive me, but … do you know who the father is?”

Your cheeks flame. You stand abruptly, walking over to the balcony railing. After a moment Charles joins you, leaning on the rail at your side.

“I’m sorry, that was too personal,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I just ...” You glance up at him. “He’s no longer in my life.” You look away, a lump in your throat.

Charles doesn’t ask anything more, just moves closer in a gesture of silent support. You stand together breathing in the night air. The twinkling city sprawls before you. For a moment, the future doesn’t feel quite so frightening.

Eventually you stifle a yawn behind your hand. Charles glances over. “You must be exhausted. I should let you get to bed.”

You smile gratefully. He walks you to the door of the suite. Pausing, you stand on tiptoes and kiss Charles lightly on the cheek. “Thank you again for dinner. For everything.”

His eyes shine as he gazes down at you. “Of course. Sweet dreams, Y/N. And ...” He brushes a feather-light touch over your belly. “Sweet dreams to you too, little one.”

You feel your heart melt just a little. With a last smile, you head down the hall to the elevators. As the doors slide closed, you catch one last glimpse of Charles watching after you.

Back in your smaller, blander room, you change for bed in a happy haze. Sliding between cool sheets, you let out a contented sigh. Tonight was lovely. Charles’ thoughtfulness reminds you there are still good people in the world. For the first time in weeks, you feel a spark of hope.

You drift off to sleep with a hand resting gently on your belly. Everything seems less frightening now that you aren’t alone. Whatever happens next, you and your baby will get through it together.

***

The buzz of the media pen is giving you a headache today. Or maybe that’s just the pregnancy. You blink heavily, trying to focus on Carlos speaking into the microphone in front of you. You hit record on your phone as he answers the first question. It’s your job to capture every word to ensure he’s not misrepresented later.

The reporter’s voice fades in and out. You sway slightly, shaking your head. Just need some fresh air. You take a step away from the crowd, vision blurring at the edges. Dark spots dance across your eyes. The concrete floor rushes up to meet you-

“Y/N!”

Strong hands grab your shoulders, slowing your collapse. Your head spins as you try to make sense of it.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Charles’ worried face swims into view above you. You part your lips but no words come out.

There’s loud commotion around you now. You feel yourself being shifted, lifted. Snatches of Charles’ voice pierce through the fog.

“She’s pregnant ... get help ... ambulance ...”

You try to cling to consciousness but it’s like grasping at smoke. The world goes dark.

When you resurface, it’s to antiseptic white walls and a steady beeping. Hospital. An IV pulls at your arm as you shift.

“Y/N?” Charles appears at your side, relief breaking across his face. “Thank God. You’re awake.”

Before you can respond, he’s disappeared again, calling for a doctor. You try to push yourself more upright but your limbs feel like lead.

A brisk older woman in a white coat enters, glancing at the monitor beside your bed. “Good to see you awake, Miss Y/L/N. You gave us quite a scare.”

“What happened?” Your voice comes out hoarse.

“You fainted from low blood pressure. A common issue in pregnancy, but yours seems to be more severe.” The doctor flips through your chart with a frown.

Charles stands anxiously at the foot of the bed. “But she’ll be alright now?”

The doctor hesitates. “I’m recommending complete pelvic rest and limited activity for the remainder of the pregnancy. Strictly no standing or walking for prolonged periods.” She pins you with a sharp look. “And if your blood pressure drops again, we’ll have no choice but to put you on full bed rest.”

Your stomach drops through the floor. “What? No, I can’t! I have to keep working, I-”

“Y/N.” Charles’ voice stops your panicked rambling. His face is lined with concern as he takes your hand. “Your health is what matters most.”

The doctor nods briskly. “Precisely. No job is worth risking your or your baby’s safety.” With a final warning look, she departs.

The moment she leaves, you burst into tears. Harsh, gasping sobs wrack your frame. This is a disaster. Without being able to stand or walk for long stretches, you’re useless to the team. You’ll be fired for sure. And then what will you do? You have no one, no other skills-

Warm, strong arms wrap around you as you weep. Charles cradles you against his chest, making low soothing sounds.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

You clutch fistfuls of his shirt, burying your face in the soft cotton. The steady thump of his heartbeat slowly calms your hysteria.

When the tears finally subside, Charles eases you gently back against the pillows. His thumbs brush away the moisture from your cheeks.

“I know you’re scared,” he says quietly. “But I promise, I will do everything I can to help you. We are in this together now.”

His green eyes radiate such sincerity, you feel some of the panic and despair lift. You cling tightly to his hand, anchoring yourself to him like he’s a rock in a stormy sea.

***

You pick listlessly at the greyish meat and mushy vegetables on your hospital dinner tray. At least Charles had the foresight to sneak in some contraband snacks earlier — you polish off the last crumbs of the cookies he brought, wishing futilely for something more appetizing.

A knock at the door precedes Charles peeking in. “Hungry for something better than hospital food?” He holds up a paper takeout bag and shakes it enticingly.

You brighten immediately. “Charles, you’re my hero.”

He laughs and enters, pulling a table over your lap to serve as a makeshift dining surface. Soon plastic containers of pasta, salad, and fresh bread are opened, the savory scents making your mouth water.

Charles watches fondly as you tuck in. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel up to eating. But who doesn’t like Italian food?”

You make a noise of emphatic agreement through your full mouth. Charles chuckles.

When you finally surface for air, he clears his throat. “So I was thinking ...” Charles busies himself folding and refolding your napkin. “My apartment in Monaco is pretty big for just me. And it has a guest room that’s just sitting empty.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to go on.

“Well ...” Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I thought maybe when you’re discharged, you could come stay with me for a while. So I can make sure you’re not overexerting yourself.”

You frown slightly. “Oh. That’s really kind, but I’ll be fine once I’m out of here.”

“Will you?” Charles levels you with a knowing look. “No offense, but you’re not exactly the best at asking for help when you need it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but can’t really argue with that.

“Let me do this for you. For my own peace of mind too,” Charles implores gently. He takes your hand, blue eyes full of sincerity. “Please?”

Looking into his earnest face, you feel your weak resistance faltering. Still ... “I don’t want to be a burden,” you mumble half-heartedly.

Charles squeezes your hand. “You could never be. I care about you, Y/N.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “I want to take care of you and the baby.”

The warmth in his voice melts away the last of your reluctance. And honestly, the prospect of having Charles doting on you is far preferable to being alone in your small, dreary apartment.

You meet his hopeful gaze. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind, then … I accept your kind offer.”

Charles’ answering smile rivals the sun. “Yeah? Oh, that’s fantastic!” He sweeps you into an enthusiastic but gentle hug. You cling to him, feeling the nervous knot that’s been your constant companion for weeks finally start to loosen. Everything will work out.

That night as Charles is leaving, you call his name softly. He pauses, one hand on the door.

You twist your fingers in the blanket, suddenly shy. “I just wanted to say … thank you. For everything. I’ll find a way to repay you someday, I promise.”

Charles’ expression softens. He comes back and squeezes your hand. “You don’t owe me anything. Just focus on yourself and that little one.” He strokes a finger over your belly. “That’s all the repayment I need.”

With a last smile, he slips out, leaving you to fall asleep with a heart full of gratitude and growing affection for your kind rescuer.

***

You smooth your hands nervously over your dress as you approach Fred Vasseur’s office. This is it. Time to tell your boss that you’ll be leaving him in the lurch smack dab in the middle of the season.

Charles gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It will be okay. Just explain the situation.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Charles opens the door and gestures for you to enter first.

Fred rises from behind his desk, surprise flickering across his face. “Y/N, Charles. What can I do for you?” His gaze darts between you curiously.

Your mouth goes dry. Charles gently guides you to sit in one of the chairs facing Fred, taking the other himself.

“Y/N has something she needs to discuss with you,” Charles begins calmly. “I’m here for moral support.”

Fred’s eyebrows raise but he nods for you to go on. Your hands twist together in your lap.

“Well, I ...” You have to pause and swallow hard. “I recently learned that I’m pregnant. And I’ve developed some, uh, complications that mean I can’t travel or be on my feet much.”

Fred’s eyebrows climb higher. “I … see. Congratulations?” He still looks perplexed.

Charles jumps in. “What she’s trying to say is, she needs to take a leave of absence. Doctor’s orders.”

“Ah.” Understanding settles on Fred’s face. He turns back to you. “I’m very sorry to hear you’re unwell. Of course health must come first.”

You feel yourself relax slightly. “So I can take a sabbatical? My job will still be here when I’m able to return?”

“Absolutely.” Fred nods. “You’ve been invaluable to our team. Your role will be waiting whenever you’re ready.”

You could cry with relief. “Oh, thank you! That means the world.”

Fred smiles kindly. “Think nothing of it. Focus on your health and that baby. We’ll manage in the meantime.”

Charles reaches over to clasp your hand supportively. “Is there anything else she needs to know before starting her leave?”

Fred considers this. “Y/N will have full pay during sabbatical, of course. And keep me posted on any support you require — medical, household, anything at all.”

You clutch Charles’ hand, too overwhelmed to speak. He smiles. “Very generous. We appreciate that greatly.”

After finalizing a few details, you both stand. Fred comes around the desk to shake your hand. “Best of luck with everything. Let me know if you need absolutely anything.”

You whisper a heartfelt thank you before allowing Charles to guide you out. Safely in the hallway, you turn and fling your arms around him.

“Charles, thank you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

His strong arms come around you, cradling you close. “Of course, Y/N. I meant what I said — I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

You cling to each other for a long moment, his steadfast support washing away your lingering fears. As long as Charles is with you, you know everything will work out just fine.

***

You fidget in the generic mint-colored exam room, paper crinkling beneath you as you perch on the edge of the table. Charles sits in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone, the picture of calm. You wish you shared his zen attitude.

A brisk knock precedes the door swinging open. A smiling older woman enters, glancing down at her chart.

“Y/N? I’m Dr. Boucher, nice to meet you.” Her smile widens as she looks between you and Charles. “And you must be the dad! Wonderful.”

Your mouth drops open to correct her, but Charles beats you to it. “That’s right, thank you,” he says easily, standing to shake the doctor’s hand.

You snap your mouth shut, eyes widening. But the doctor has already moved on, washing her hands at the sink.

“Now then, let’s take a look at this baby, shall we?” She pats the exam table.

You lie back, hiking up your shirt to expose your belly. The cool gel makes you shiver as the doctor smears it over your skin. She places the ultrasound wand low on your abdomen and moves it slowly.

The screen blooms to life, blurred black and white shifting until a shape emerges — a tiny profile, curled arms and legs distinct. You gasp softly. There’s your baby.

Dr. Boucher smiles. “There we are. Looks to be about 16 weeks along. Growing beautifully.”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the screen. Your throat feels tight. After so many weeks of secrecy and fear, this precious little life finally seems real.

“And there’s the heartbeat.” The doctor turns up the volume, and a rapid thumping fills the room. “Nice and strong.”

Tears spill over your cheeks before you can stop them. A glance over shows Charles watching the monitor intently, green eyes shiny with emotion. He reaches for your hand, gripping tightly.

When the appointment ends, you both exit the office in a daze. As you walk down the street to Charles’ car, he turns to you.

“That was … incredible,” he says softly. “Seeing your baby for the first time ...” He trails off, at a loss for words.

You lift his hand and press a kiss to the back, hoping he understands the depth of your gratitude. Charles smiles tenderly in return.

Safely home in Charles’ plush apartment, you curl up together on the sofa with mugs of tea to continue gazing at the ultrasound photos. Charles slips an arm around your shoulders, his thumb idly stroking your arm as you chatter excitedly about preparing a nursery.

This moment, here with Charles, your child’s heartbeat still echoing in your ears … it’s the closest thing to pure joy you’ve ever known. The future finally feels bright with hope. You lean into Charles’ warmth and send up a silent prayer of thanks for this man and the new life he’s given back to you.

***

You curl deeper into the plush couch in Charles’ apartment, cradling your mug of tea. Rain patters against the windows overlooking Monaco’s glittering harbor. The cozy scene makes you feel safe enough to finally open up.

“Charles?”

He glances over from where he’s poking at the fire. “Hmm?”

You twist your fingers together nervously. “There’s more I should tell you. About how I got pregnant.”

Charles rises and comes to sit beside you, face open and attentive. Taking a deep breath, you begin.

“It happened last winter, during the off-season. I went back home to Italy for a while, to the little town outside Milan where my family lives.”

You stare into your tea, remembering. “There was a man vacationing there, from Rome. Dario. We met in a cafe and just … clicked. He was handsome, charming, a perfect gentleman.” Your lips twist wryly. “Or so I thought.”

Charles remains quiet, letting you gather the words.

“We spent every day together for two weeks. Took long walks, went on romantic dinners. When it was time for him to leave, we ...” You trail off, face warming.

“You made love,” Charles supplies gently. You nod, still not meeting his eyes.

“I thought it meant as much to him as to me. But after he went back to Rome, his texts and calls slowly stopped. And then I found out why.”

Your voice drops to a pained whisper. “He was married. His ‘business trip’ was just a chance to fool around. When his wife saw my texts on his phone … it exploded. And then my family found out about the affair.”

Finally you lift your head. Charles’ face is lined with compassion. “They disowned me. Called me a fool and a harlot. It didn’t matter that I was lied to — as far as they’re concerned, I brought shame upon our family.”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks. Charles immediately pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, crying into his shoulder as he rubs your back.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “You did nothing wrong. This Dario took advantage of you, and your family should have supported you.”

Charles holds you until the storm of tears passes. When you finally pull back, he cups your face in both hands, brushing away the lingering moisture with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says softly. “I know that wasn’t easy. You’re so incredibly strong.”

Leaning forward, he places a tender kiss on your forehead. Then his palms slide down to cradle your rounded belly.

“I’ve got you now,” Charles murmurs. “Both of you. You’ll never be alone again.”

Nestled in his lap, you close your eyes and just breathe. The remnants of hurt and betrayal wash away, replaced by the safety of Charles’ embrace. Whatever comes next, you have found your sanctuary here, with him.

***

You wander through the apartment looking for Charles, one hand braced on your lower back. Your belly has popped noticeably in the last couple weeks, throwing your balance off.

Not finding Charles in any of the usual spots, you head down the hall towards the spare bedroom. When you push open the door, your jaw drops.

The room has been completely transformed. Bright sunshine spills through the windows onto whitewashed walls. A plush rug covers the hardwood floor. In one corner sits a fully assembled crib, stuffed animals piled inside.

Charles stands back to admire his work, shirtsleeves rolled up and hair adorably mussed. He turns when you gasp softly.

“Y/N! I wanted to surprise you.” His grin falters. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? Charles, I love it!” You blink back happy tears, wandering further inside. Charles’ face lights up.

“I wasn’t sure what color to paint, so I left the walls white for now,” he explains, coming over to slip an arm around you.

You lean into him, gazing around. “It’s perfect. Our baby is so lucky to have you.”

Pink tinges Charles’ cheeks. He kisses the top of your head. “I’m the lucky one.”

You decide on a pale green for the walls. Charles immediately fetches paint supplies, but hovers anxiously as you start rolling color onto the first wall.

“Are you sure you should be doing this?” He eyes your protruding stomach. “The fumes can’t be good ...”

You wave off his concern. “I’ll be fine! Here-” You dip a roller in paint and offer it out. “Make yourself useful instead of worrying.”

Charles accepts the roller reluctantly. Soon you’re both working side by side. Charles takes on the higher parts of the walls that you can’t comfortably reach anymore.

Humming under your breath, you step back to critique your work so far. As you do, your foot catches on the paint tray and you stumble. Charles reaches out to steady you, but not before a fat drop of paint lands on his cheek.

“Oops!” You clap a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh at the green splotch on his tanned skin.

Charles narrows his eyes in mock indignation. “You think that’s funny, do you?” Before you can react, he flicks his loaded paintbrush at you, spattering your shirt.

You gasp in delighted outrage. “Oh, it is on!” Grabbing your roller, you swipe it down his arm.

Charles lets out a laugh of surprise. Soon paint is flying from both directions. You run around each other, giggling and slipping on the drops coating the floor.

Finally Charles catches you gently by the waist. You’re both absolutely covered in pale green, sides aching from laughter. Your faces are inches apart, smiles fading into something more tender.

Slowly, Charles leans in and presses his lips to yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. You melt against him, hands coming up to cradle his jaw.

When you finally part, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he confesses, a little breathless.

You smile, heart soaring. “What took you so long?”

His answering grin outshines the sun. There, surrounded by dreams of the future, you share another lingering kiss.

***

You settle back against the mountain of pillows, trying to find a comfortable position for your unwieldy body. At nearly 8 months along now, your belly feels impossibly huge. Luckily Charles’ plush bed offers plenty of space to sprawl.

Speaking of Charles, he appears in the doorway holding a bottle. “Ready for your massage?”

You eye the bottle of oil eagerly. The stretch marks crisscrossing your stomach have been itchy and tight. “Yes please.”

Charles props up pillows behind you so you’re half-reclining. Then he drizzles some of the oil into his palms, warming it up before smoothing his hands over your bump.

You sigh in bliss at his gentle but firm touch. The fragrant oil soothes and softens your irritated skin. Under Charles’ ministrations, the discomfort slowly ebbs away.

His strong hands glide over every inch, easing out the aches and pains. As Charles works, he murmurs to your belly. “There you go, little one. We’re going to make your home nice and cozy.”

Your heart clenches at the tender scene. Even after all these months of living together, it still sometimes hits you how domestic this is. Sharing a home, sharing a bed … it’s everything you secretly longed for but never expected to have. A real family.

You trail your fingers through Charles’ soft waves. His eyes lift to meet yours, soft with affection. The look on his face steals your breath — pure adoration, like you’re the most precious thing in his world.

“I love you.” The words slip out unbidden. Charles’ hands still. For a heartbeat, you’re afraid you’ve said too much.

But then he surges up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “I love you too,” Charles whispers fiercely when you finally break apart, both panting. “So much.”

He seals his words with another drugging kiss. Your hands clutch him close, heart near bursting with joy.

Suddenly Charles breaks the kiss with a gasp. His wide eyes dart down. “Did you feel that?”

You start to shake your head no, distracted by the sensation of his calloused hands massaging your belly, but then you feel it — a distinct thump against your insides. Your baby shifting and kicking.

Charles’ face lights up. “There it is again!” He laughs in wonder. “The little one is saying hello.”

Happy tears blur your vision. Charles presses a delighted kiss to your stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he whispers tenderly.

Through your tears, you smile at the man you love. The one who gave you and your child a home when you had nothing. However you got here, this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

A dull ache starts low in your back as you crawl into bed. You shift and stretch, trying to get comfortable, but can’t seem to. Charles notices your restlessness.

“Alright?” He murmurs sleepily, rolling over to rub your back.

You nod. “Yeah, just some back pain today.” Probably from lugging around this massive belly.

Charles makes soothing noises and continues massaging you until he drifts off. You finally manage to doze too.

Sometime in the night, you jerk awake. The sheets under you are soaked. For one confused moment you think you wet the bed. But then it hits you.

Your water broke.

“Charles!” You shake his shoulder urgently.

He comes awake with a snort. “Huh? What’s wrong?”

“It’s time! The baby-” You break off with a hiss as the first real contraction clenches your belly.

That wakes Charles up fully. “The baby? It’s coming?” He practically falls out of bed, all long limbs flailing.

You have to stifle an inappropriate giggle at his panic. “Yes, so we should-” Your instructions die as Charles sprints from the room. Alright then.

You shake your head in amusement and heave yourself to your feet, one hand braced on your lower back. Waddling slowly after Charles, you find him hyperactively rushing around the living room, tossing items randomly into your hospital bag.

“Okay, let’s go!” He grabs the overflowing bag and dashes out the front door. You stare after him in disbelief then lower yourself carefully onto the couch to wait.

Not thirty seconds later, Charles comes barreling back inside. “Oh God, I forgot you!”

You have to laugh at the panic on his face. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Looking marginally calmer, he helps you up, frantically gathering your bag in one hand while keeping the other wrapped around you.

You lean your weight on him during the next contraction, breathing through it. “It’s okay. But we should really go now.”

Charles practically carries you down to the garage and bundles you into his Ferrari in record time. He drives well over the speed limit, one hand clutching yours the whole way.

At the hospital, Charles refuses to leave your side even for a second. He holds the gas and air for you to breathe during contractions, whispering how strong and amazing you are.

When the time comes to push, the pain is unimaginable. You nearly give up, sobbing that you can’t do this. But Charles is there, guiding you through it, telling you that you absolutely can. And with one final scream, your son enters the world.

The shrill cry is the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Charles cuts the cord with trembling hands. Then the nurse lays your wailing, squirmy son on your chest.

You press kisses to his downy head, tears of joy streaming down your face. Charles gazes at you both with pure reverence.

“His name is Matteo Charles,” you whisper. Charles lets out a choked sob at the middle name.

Too soon, the nurses take Matteo for cleaning and checks. One asks Charles if he’d like to hold him. Charles looks to you questioningly, and you nod through your exhaustion.

Charles settles into a chair, shirtless, and Matteo is laid on his bare chest. Charles strokes a gentle finger over Matteo’s cheek, seemingly enraptured.

“Thank you,” he rasps to you. “For our beautiful boy. Thank you, mon amour.”

This is everything you never knew you needed — a family, a home, and an overflowing love you once thought would forever be lost to you. But you’ve found it now, here in this room, together.

***

The sharp cries jolt you from sleep. With a groan, you roll out of the warm circle of Charles’ arms. Your body still aches and protests as you make your way to the nursery in the dark.

Picking up little Matteo, you carry him to the rocker and situate him at your breast. He latches on eagerly, cries fading to soft snuffles.

Charles appears in the doorway, hair adorably mussed. “Everything okay?” He asks through a yawn.

“We’re good now.” You smile tiredly down at your nursing son. His downy hair and scrunched features are all you — you find yourself thankful that there is barely any indication that his biological father even participated in making him.

Charles comes to perch on the ottoman, watching Matteo. “I can’t believe he’s really here,” he murmurs. “Our son.”

Pride swells in your chest. Charles has fully embraced his role as Matteo’s father, as naturally as breathing.

When Matteo finishes eating, Charles takes him to gently pat his back while you right your nightgown. He kisses your son’s head when Matteo lets out a tiny burp.

Back in bed, you curl into Charles with Matteo nestled safely between you. Charles has a race this weekend, his first since the birth. The thought of him leaving fills you with anxiety.

In the morning, Charles confirms your fears. “I’ll just tell Fred I’m not coming this weekend,” he says casually over breakfast. “The team will manage without me. One of the reserve drivers can take over for a few days.”

Your head jerks up. “What? No, Charles, you have to race.”

“But I don’t want to leave you two!” Charles gestures helplessly to where Matteo snoozes in a bouncer.

You catch Charles’ hand. “This is your dream. Matteo and I will be right here cheering you on when you get back.”

Charles wavers. You soften your voice. “It’s only for a little while. We’ll be okay.”

Finally he nods reluctantly. You know how hard this is for him — but Charles was born to race. You won’t let him give that up.

The morning Charles is set to fly out, he clings to you and Matteo like a second skin. You practically have to peel him off at airport security.

“I’ll be back so soon,” he whispers fiercely. One last kiss, and then he’s gone.

The apartment feels empty and too quiet. But you fill the time singing and playing with Matteo, keeping yourself busy until the race.

You and Matteo cuddle close on the couch to watch Charles zoom around the track. Your heart swells with love and pride seeing your man do what he was meant to.

When Charles wins, he shouts his ecstatic thanks to you and Matteo over the team radio. The podium champagne gets sprayed directly into the camera for you.

Finally Charles is home, sweeping you and Matteo into his arms. “I love you both so much,” he murmurs in wonder. You whisper it right back, nestled safe in the arms of your little family.

***

The energy in the Albert Park paddock is electric as teams prepare for the first race of the 2025 season. You feel a thrill just being back, Matteo cooing happily in your arms. At nearly six months old now, he’s ready for his first race.

Charles bounces on his toes, unable to contain his excitement. “Are you ready to see Papa race, Matteo?” He tickles Matteo’s belly, eliciting bubbly giggles.

You head first to the Ferrari garage, where the mechanics crowd around eagerly to fawn over Matteo. Lewis gives you a careful hug, peering curiously at the baby.

“Lewis, meet Matteo,” Charles says proudly. At Lewis’ questioning look, he adds “My son.” The way he says it brooks no argument.

Lewis’ eyes widen slightly but he just smiles. “Hi Matteo!” He offers a finger for Matteo to grip.

Fred comes over next, cooing over how much Matteo has grown. You enjoy the familial atmosphere, everyone fussing over your boy. Matteo basks in the attention.

Charles takes him down to the front of the garage to watch the crews work on the cars. He points out parts of the sleek machines, explaining them seriously to Matteo as if he understands. Matteo just gazes adoringly up at his Papa.

When Charles finally straps into the car for practice, you have ear muffs ready for Matteo’s sensitive ears. Charles blows kisses to you both before pulling on his helmet. Matteo squeals and waves his little fist as the car roars out.

In the hotel that night, you set Matteo on the bed while Charles showers. Stripped down to his diaper, your son kicks his chubby legs excitedly.

Charles emerges in comfy clothes, his hair still damp, and laughs at Matteo’s antics. “Alright, my little race car driver, time for bed.”

He tickles Matteo’s tummy as he puts on a fresh diaper and snaps up his pajamas. Then Charles cradles Matteo close, humming softly as he sways back and forth to soothe him. Your heart clenches at the tender scene.

Once Matteo is deeply asleep, Charles lays him gently in the travel crib. He turns to you with a soft smile. “I can’t imagine life without him now.”

You slip your arms around Charles from behind. “He loves his Papa so much already. Your biggest fan.”

Charles covers your hands with his, gazing at Matteo. “I’m going to win tomorrow for him.”

And he does. On the podium, Charles looks down to where you cradle Matteo in one arm, and gently showers you with champagne. Matteo’s delighted laughter is the sweetest sound.

This is everything you’ve ever wanted.

***

The energetic buzz of the Italian Grand Prix washes over you as you stroll hand-in-hand with Charles, your son cradled safely in his arms. At nearly a year old now, Matteo is fascinated by the vivid colors and cacophony of sounds surrounding him.

Charles playfully bounces Matteo as you weave through the crowded walkways, pointing out the sights and sounds. “Look Matteo, there’s the cars! Vroom vroom!” Charles mimics the roar of an engine. Matteo’s delighted giggle melts your heart. You can’t help but grin, chest swelling with love and pride for your little family.

You’ve just about reached the looming Ferrari motorhome when an absolutely venomous female voice shrieks out, “You!”

Every muscle in your body instantly tenses. You freeze mid-step, heart lurching into your throat. Whipping your head around, you see an immaculately dressed woman barreling directly towards you, her face mottled an ugly shade of rage-induced crimson.

“You disgusting harlot!” The woman spits with unrestrained fury. “You filthy whore!”

Stunned, you instinctively take a faltering step backwards, nearly stumbling. Charles’ strong arm immediately wraps protectively around you and Matteo, steadying you. His body angles partly in front of yours and Matteo’s smaller form, shielding you both on pure instinct.

The deranged woman continues her tirade, advancing until she’s nearly screaming in your face. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, you reprehensible little homewrecker!”

Before you can even begin to formulate a response, a ghost from your past suddenly materializes behind the enraged woman. A man you hoped to never lay eyes on again.

His eyes blow wide at the sight of you, Charles, and the infant cradled against Charles’ chest.

The woman — his wife, you realize with dawning horror — grabs viciously onto his arm, her razor-sharp nails digging in hard enough to leave crescent-shaped gouges. “Just look at her!” She shrieks, spit flying from her mouth. “Parading that little bastard child around like it’s something to be proud of!” She violently thrusts her finger towards Matteo, still safely ensconced in Charles’ embrace.

Your son, sensing the onslaught of hostile energy, immediately begins wailing in distress. You instinctively reach out to take him from Charles, desperate to comfort your frightened boy. But Charles subtly shifts his stance, moving further out of her reach, as he focuses intently on gently bouncing and shushing Matteo in an attempt to calm him.

Matteo’s biological father simply stares, slack-jawed, at the sobbing infant. The gears visibly turn in his head. “Is that ...” he chokes out, “Is he … mine?”

“No.” Charles’ immediate response is biting and unequivocal. He clutches Matteo tighter to his chest. “Matteo is my son.” Though his voice remains steady, you can see a muscle in his jaw ticking from the effort of holding back more heated words.

But Dario clearly does not accept this response. His eyes narrow calculatingly as he continues scrutinizing the wailing baby. Behind him, his unhinged wife keeps up her tirade of slurs and accusations, whipping the gathering crowd into greater frenzy.

You feel lightheaded, paralyzed. This is a living nightmare. Distantly you are aware of camera phones pointed your way, capturing every wretched moment. Charles seems to realize the same, his handsome face darkening with rage.

With frightening efficiency, Charles strides directly over to the nearest paddock security officers and has a brief, terse exchange. Moments later, two bulky guards firmly take hold of the still-screaming woman and shellshocked man, forcefully escorting them away. The crowd reluctantly disperses, murmuring.

Charles immediately returns to envelope you and Matteo in a fiercely protective embrace. “It’s alright now, you’re both safe,” he soothes, though his rapid heartbeat belies his calm words. Matteo’s panicked sobs have faded to tiny hiccups against Charles’ neck.

The rest of the chaotic day passes in a blur. Much later, in the privacy of your hotel room, Charles reveals that he pulled every string and called in every favor necessary to have Dario and his deranged wife permanently blacklisted from all Formula 1 events.

His voice shakes with quiet rage as he describes how close security came to needing to restrain him physically.

Finally he takes your face so very gently in his hands. “I promise you, I will do anything and everything to protect our family. You and Matteo are my entire world. Nothing will ever hurt you as long as I’m breathing.”

Overwhelmed with gratitude, you collapse against his solid chest. Charles’ strong arms anchor you in place as you cling to him. He continues murmuring fervent assurances, pressing kisses to your hair.

Despite the ugliness of the day, you know with utter certainty Charles will shield you and Matteo from the darkness of your past. Your family is still perfection in your eyes.

***

“Papa, I wanna be a race car driver like you when I grow up!”

Your five-year-old son looks up at Charles with big, adoring eyes as he makes this pronouncement over breakfast one morning.

Charles freezes with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. He slowly sets it down, gazing at Matteo with surprise and pride. “You do?”

Matteo bobs his curly head eagerly. “Yeah! I wanna drive fast cars and win like you! Can you teach me?”

Charles melts, ruffling Matteo’s hair. “Of course, buddy. We’ll have to convince your maman first though.” He shoots you a meaningful look.

You shift uncertainly. Of course you want to encourage Matteo’s interests, but motorsport is dangerous ...

Charles seems to sense your hesitation. “Why don’t you think about it, mon amour? No need to decide yet.” He winks at Matteo, who grins in excitement.

Over the next few days, your two boys put on a full court press to sway you. Charles points out safety advances in karting and helps Matteo make adorable PowerPoint slides with photos of your son in race helmets. They both unleash heartbreaking puppy dog eyes.

Finally you cave. “Alright!” You laugh, holding up your hands in surrender. “You can start teaching him the basics.”

Matteo and Charles high-five so hard it makes a cracking sound. “Yesss!” Charles pumps his fists while Matteo dances in glee. Seeing their matching enthusiasm melts away the last of your reluctance. Your little daredevil was born for this.

The next weekend, Charles takes Matteo to a racetrack an hour outside the city. It’s just a small circuit, but Matteo gazes around with wide eyes, gripping Charles’ hand tightly.

Charles shows him the karts and safety gear, patiently explaining how everything works. Then it’s time. Charles helps strap Matteo into a kart made for kids, snugging his helmet gently under the chin.

“Ready, mon petit champion?”

Matteo gives him a thumbs up, practically vibrating with excitement. Charles grins and drops the visor down. “Alright! Let’s do this!”

He gives Matteo a little push to get the kart rolling onto the track. Your son quickly gets the hang of working the gas and brakes. Charles jogs alongside, gesturing and calling out instructions.

Gradually he lets Matteo take full control. Your little boy zips around the course, hair blowing out the back of his helmet. His delighted laughter echoes around the circuit.

Watching from the sidelines, Charles records it all on his phone, face alight with joy and pride. “That’s it Matteo, you’re doing amazing!” He cheers.

This is only the beginning. But seeing the utter bliss on both their faces, you know Matteo has chosen the right path. The Leclerc legacy will live on.

***

“I’m here in the pit lane with Charles Leclerc on the momentous day his son, Matteo Leclerc, makes his highly anticipated debut with Scuderia Ferrari. Charles, you must be incredibly proud right now.”

The Sky Sports reporter holds her mic out to Charles as he stands, beaming, in front of the scarlet Ferrari garage. Charles nods, looking slightly choked up.

“Incredibly proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he replies earnestly. “This has been Matteo’s dream since he was just a little boy. To see him achieve it, to be standing here watching him drive for the team I devoted my life to … it’s indescribable.”

Charles pauses, glancing over fondly at where you stand with Matteo, straightening your son’s helmet and race suit.

“His mother and I, we’ve worried and experienced every up and down along the way with him. But Matteo has worked so hard for this, never gave up even when it seemed impossible. He more than deserves today.”

The reporter smiles. “And his last name isn’t the only way he takes after you. Matteo is widely considered your protégé after you mentored him through the junior ranks.”

“I taught him everything I could,” Charles acknowledges. “But his talent and dedication are all his own. Matteo is his own man now. I can’t wait to see how high he continues to climb.”

“Any advice you’ve given him before his first race with Ferrari?”

Charles chuckles. “Just to enjoy every second. This only comes around once.” He looks off into the distance, eyes crinkling nostalgically.

“Still seems like yesterday I was in his shoes for my own Ferrari debut. I’ll never forget that feeling.”

The reporter wraps up the interview and Charles makes his way over to where you and 21-year-old Matteo are embracing. Charles’ eyes shine with unshed tears as he clasps arms with his son.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles says hoarsely. “Your mother and I both. Now go show the world what you can do.”

Matteo’s answering smile is blinding. “I’ll make you proud, Papa.”

He hugs you tight, then pulls on his helmet and strides confidently to his waiting Ferrari. The mechanics cheer as the car roars to life and Matteo peels out onto the track, on the cusp of achieving his lifelong dream.

You cling to Charles’ side, waving tearfully. “Our little boy,” you whisper in awe.

Charles wraps an arm around you, never taking his eyes off the bright red car. “He’s all grown up. But he’ll always be our son.”

No matter how high Matteo climbs, Charles knows he will always remain his sweet little boy — the bright-eyed child you and Charles raised with love.

His greatest source of pride and joy as the future beckons brightly, another generation of Leclercs carrying the hopes of Ferrari forward.

[augustinewrites]

satoru bday fic! cw: suggestive

gojo thinks he should be nominated for boyfriend of the year.

not only had he managed to get the kids to school on time, pick up the groceries, get all his reports in to principal yaga, and clean the kitchen, but he’d managed to do it all while extremely hungover on his birthday. 

he’d even managed to do it all before you’d even gotten out of bed.

he doesn’t blame you for sleeping in. the impromptu birthday party he’d thrown had left you all in quite the state by the early hours of morning. you need the re—

“satoru! could you come in here for a second?”

“coming!” he calls back, shoving the coupon that’d fallen from shoko’s birthday card into his wallet before making his way to the bedroom. “hey, let’s get some frozen yogurt when the kids get ho— holy shit.”

your face breaks out into a grin of triumph at his sudden silence. gojo’s rightfully stunned, carefully studying each bit of revealing lace and the way it sits against your body before committing it to memory. 

“is that…”

“the set you had commissioned in paris,” you hum, nonchalant as you drag your fingertips up your hip. “that’s the one.”

he takes a few slow steps toward where you are and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, arousal warming his whole body. “but you said you’d never wear it because—”

“because i was saving it for something special,” you finish, leaning up and shifting towards him. “like your birthday.” 

“well,” he sighs as you close the distance between you. “i should unwrap my gift then.”

“please try not to tear it,” you murmur as his lips brush over your pulse. “i’d very much like to wear it again, and i, oh, i saw the charge on the credit card…”

his reply is no more than a distracted hum as you shift onto his lap, allowing curious hands to explore your body and hungry lips to move against yours. 

the lace is soft on your skin, his hands eagerly working to undo the ties holding up delicate florals and sheer material. 

“satoru, i need you.” your breath is warm against his skin, exciting him more as he goes to pull off garter belt.

“uh, babe?”

“hm?”

“how do you take this off?”

_____

“well, i connected it to this piece—”

“but we can’t take this piece off unless we take this one off too. that doesn’t make any sense.” 

“i’m telling you, that’s how i put it on.”

“then why won’t it come off?”

it’s then that gojo decides custom lingerie should come with instructions. when he’d designed it, he hadn’t actually considered the logistics of this operation.

“okay,” you huff, turning around and placing your hands on his shoulders. “you’re just going to have to tear it.”

“fine by me,” he grins, slightly smug as he curls his fingers around the expensive material and tears—

the two of you scramble up when the front door slams open. it’s in that moment you realize that satoru hadn’t closed the bedroom door. 

“mom!” you hear megumi shout, his stomps echoing through the apartment. “tsumiki ate one of my snacks!”

“shit, fuck.” cursing, you grab his discarded t-shirt and slip it on before jumping into bed. satoru slips in next to you, pulling the duvet up to your chins and pressing against you from behind.

“satoru!” you hiss when you feel something poke the back of your thigh. 

“we just made out for like ten minutes,” he whispers back, only pulling you closer. “you didn’t think i’d get one?”

“put it away!”

“i could, but—”

you manage to summon one of your divine dogs in time for it push the bedroom door closed, breathing a sigh of relief when the kid’s footsteps come to a halt. 

“we’ll be out in a second!” you call, hearing their hushed argument as they trudge back to the kitchen.

“i might need more than a second…”

you hit satoru in the face with a pillow. “you’ll get the rest of your birthday gift tonight, after you drop the kids off at nanami’s.

[simpforrooster]

actually, it’s captain.

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.

t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.

Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.

Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”

You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.

“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.

“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.

And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.

“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.

Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.

But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.

You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.

Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”

Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.

“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.

“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.

“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”

At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.

“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.

Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.

Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”

“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.

You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.

“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.

“Yeah?” he murmurs back.

Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.

“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.

Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.

Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.

“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.

“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.

masterlist.

[sainns]

SIGNS OF AFFECTION.

𝓢.ㅤ the portrayal of their love for you.

OT7ㅤ୨୧ ⠀ femreader⠀ . . .ㅤ fluff, riki's lowkey a third wheel in jake's part oops, he is also a d1 complainer in his part, not proofreadㅤ2224 words

LEE HEESEUNG “baby, stay with me,” heeseung all but whines, pulling on your arm in an attempt to drag you back down to his bed. his voice is hoarse from not having spoken in a while; you had been laying together in silence, the both of you doing your own thing in each other’s space.

“hee, i have to go,” you try to free yourself from his grasp and you almost succeed but once he notices that he’s losing his grip, he tugs you towards him and wraps his arms around your waist, head resting against your stomach.

“just spend the night, i don’t think your roommate will care,”

“of course she isn’t going to care but i care. i have to go study,”

he looks up, his chin pressing against your stomach, lips forming a pout as he stares at you with a pleading expression. you can’t help but smile at him, bringing a hand up to fix his tousled hair.

you like when he gets clingy like this—he’s always clingy—it’s comforting knowing that he likes your presence as much as you do his. maybe even more, considering he’s always asking you to go over or if he can hang out at your apartment even if you don’t plan on doing anything. when you ask why or propose actually doing something he laughs you off, saying that simply sitting in the same room as you is enough for him. 

“study here,”

“i don’t have my stuff,”

“okay, study tomorrow then,” he sits up, removing his arms from around you. though, he keeps his hands on your waist, squeezing, “i wanna stay with you,”

you stare at him for a moment, acting as if you were debating on whether or not to give in. it was all for show, though; you’re going to give in to him every single time and he knows it. so a smug smile takes place on his lips, knowing that he’s won when you let out a sigh, shoving his shoulder lightly so that he could make room for you on his bed.

PARK JONGSEONG you search for jay’s warmth right when you wake up, eyebrows furrowing and lips turning downwards when you don’t find it. you open your eyes to see nothing, jay nowhere to be seen.

you lay in bed for a minute longer before deciding to get up and go look for him in your small apartment, but before you can even pull the covers away from your body, your boyfriend walks in. 

he looks like he’s been awake for a while—you can tell he took a shower by his still damp hair and he’s already dressed, wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt. he smiles at you, “hey, sleepyhead,”

“hi… you’re up early,”

“i was making you breakfast,” you feel the bed dip from his weight as he sits next to where you’re still laying, “and i cleaned the apartment a little,”

you reach over and grab his hand, placing a kiss against his knuckles, “thank you, but you didn’t have to. it’s my apartment, i can do it myself,” despite saying that, you know he’s going to ignore you, continuing on with taking care of you, your needs, and your apartment.

he hums, but doesn’t respond verbally, instead squeezing your hand in his. the two of you sit in a comfortable silence—you trying to fully wake up and him waiting for you—for what feels like forever until he finally breaks it.

“i like doing things for you, you know?”

“do you?”

“yeah, i do. you smile at his response, lifting your head to silently ask for a kiss. 

he obliges, mumbling against your lips, “you gonna get up and eat breakfast now?”

SIM JAEYUN “how do you deal with jake being on top of you constantly?”

you raise your eyebrows at riki’s question, watching as the teenager throws a piece of popcorn at your boyfriend from the other end of the couch. 

jake throws it back, “dude, i’m not on top of her,” except he is on top of you—his arms wrapped around your waist, head resting against your shoulder. 

“uh… yeah, you are,”

the boys’ argument fades into the background as you think about riki’s question. honestly, you never noticed that jake was, in fact, always ‘on top’ of you.

you don’t mind it, obviously—you enjoy it—but now that you’re thinking back on your relationship, jake really is very physically affectionate towards you. you don’t think you can recall a time where his arms weren’t wrapped around you, or his hand holding wasn’t holding yours, or he wasn’t standing so close to you that the both of you looked like you’re glued together.

“jake,” you interrupt their argument, laughing as you poke at him cheek, “maybe you should pull away before you try and defend yourself,”

he scoffs at you in faux annoyance, doing the exact opposite of what you told him to do—he pulls you closer to him, practically forcing you onto his lap. you’re sitting sideways, your head against his shoulder now.

“nope, you’re warm,”

“i don’t think it’s cold,”

“i’m cold, though,” shrugging, he places a kiss on top of your head, “also, ki, she’s on top of me, so you’re making zero sense,”

“i just watched you move her on top of you,” riki groans, throwing a pillow at the both of you, making you laugh when the two begin arguing again, the movie you had been watching long forgotten.

PARK SUNGHOON everyday you are beyond thankful for park sunghoon, whatever higher power there is must really like you to give you the opportunity of being his girlfriend.

the fact that he’ll wake up at 3:28AM just to go buy you some kind of snack or food is one of the things you love about the man, simply because you know almost nobody who would ever do that—unless their partner was pregnant—but he does. 

“i love you, by the way,” you smile, tapping your feet in excitement against the car floor, stopping when you feel sunghoon’s hand squeeze your thigh gently.

“because i’m going to go get you an ice cream?” he turns on the blinker, stopping before turning to the right, driving to a nearby convenience store where you’re planning on getting said ice cream.

“that too, but i just love you in general,”

“yeah?” he glances at you, an eyebrow raised.

“yes,”

“good,” his thumb rubbing circles against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, “i love you too, i hope you know i’d never get up this late for anyone else,”

“i hope not,” the car pulls into the convenience store’s empty—save for the singular employee’s car—parking lot, sunghoon putting the car into park. he gets out, leaving you alone in the car for a brief moment, rounding to your side and opening the door.

he leans against it, staring at you with a soft, fond smile. the look makes you nervous, your face heating up at the prolonged eye contact. it gets to be too much after a few seconds, and you reach up to cover his eyes with your hand, “okay, stop staring, you’re weird,”

he lets out a laugh, removing your hand from his eyes, “i’m weird? you’re the one who wants ice cream at three in the morning,”

“well, you still drove me here, so you’re equally as weird. you could’ve said no,”

“nope, i can’t say no to you. it’s impossible,” 

he doesn’t say anything else as he grabs your hand, helping you out of the car. you’re perfectly capable of stepping out of it yourself but you let him help you, not really thinking about it—a habit that’s formed after years of dating him. you smile to yourself, the cold air of the convenience store making you shiver while you follow behind sunghoon to the small freezer section.

KIM SEONWOO you smile when sunoo hands you a shopping bag, looking inside to see an album you’d been wanting for a while now. you’d only mentioned it to him once, an offhand statement that you moved on from immediately after saying it. you should’ve known sunoo was going to remember and buy it for you, even though you could have bought it yourself.

noticing something else in the bag, you move the album out of the way, your eyes widening in surprise when you see that he also bought you the phone charm you’d really wanted. you hadn’t been able to find it in any stores, though, and yet somehow sunoo did.

“those are the ones you wanted right?” his eyes go back and forth between you and the bag, watching your reaction, “i saw the charm and remembered you wanted it, so i got it. it was the last one,”

“mhm, it is, thank you,” you take it out, looking it over with a grin on your face, “you didn’t need to get the album, i could’ve bought it,”

he waves you off, “it’s fine. i just got it while i was there. you like them, though, right?”

“obviously, i like them,” you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, embracing him. he hugs you back, placing his hands on your waist. he can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh when you continue your sentence, “but i feel bad that you’re always wasting your money,”

“i don’t waste money, it’s for a good cause. as long as you like it, angel, then who cares. i’ll get you whatever you want, it’s not a big deal,” he pulls away from you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, pulling you into a gentle kiss.

YANG JUNGWON “you look pretty in that shirt,” jungwon says, snapping yet another photo of you since you started your clothing haul. you giggle, looking at him through your mirror—he’s looking at his phone, probably scrolling through the pictures he’s taken so far.

“you don’t have to take a picture of every outfit, won,” you turn, walking over to sit next to him on your bed, “i’ll wear them again,”

“but i like taking pictures of you,” he shows you his phone, a photo of you from earlier on his screen. you hadn’t noticed him take this one—it was while you were wearing one of the first outfits you had tried on, your face in a weird expression. you assume jungwon had taken in while you were talking and you grimace when he continues speaking, “you look pretty,”

you give him a look, “i look bad in that picture,”

your boyfriend frowns, setting his phone to the side, putting your focus back on his face rather than his phone. he narrows his eyes at you, playfully glaring, “i don’t think so, you look good in every picture,”

“no,” you scoff, “you’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,”

“no,” he mocks you, sticking his tongue out at you. you laugh at his immaturity, moving to push his shoulder but he stops you, hand gripping onto your wrist. you pause, biting your lip to keep from laughing when you notice he’s still glaring at you, “it’s because you are pretty. so pretty that i go crazy every time i see you,”

“you’re overselling it,” you look away, feeling your face heat up at his compliments. you still aren’t used to him being so… nice. not that he was ever mean, but the constant barrage of compliments the boy gives you on a daily basis is enough to make anyone nervous.

“am not,” he gives you an offended look, letting out a huff of air, “i’m just telling the truth, lovely.”

NISHIMURA RIKI you glance to your side, stifling a giggle when riki lets out a loud groan, his feet dragging against the floor as you walk into yet another store.

you’ve been shopping for the past three hours, having gone into most of the businesses at the mall. riki, despite you telling him he didn’t have to come, tagged along but he started complaining almost immediately after you exited the third store.

“you definitely don’t have enough money to buy anything else—can we go?” he squeezes your hand, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. the act almost makes you comply with his request.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come,”

you always tell him that he doesn’t have to go with you, whether it be to the mall or something else. every single time he insists, telling you that he’ll go with you so you don’t ‘feel lonely’, only for him to start complaining within five minutes of whatever it is that you’re doing. you know that it’s lighthearted, but you can’t help but (lovingly) roll your eyes at him every time he does this.

“i didn’t think we’d be here for five days,”

you scoff, bumping him with your shoulder while you card through a rack of t-shirts with your free hand, “you’re dramatic,”

“no, i’m not. my feet just hurt,”

humming, you pull out a shirt, scrutinizing it for a few moments before ultimately deciding to buy it, “go sit in the car then, babe,”

“uh, no,” he gives you a dirty look, grabbing the shirt from your hand so that he could hold it instead, “i came ‘cos i wanted to spend time with you, not the car.”

note. PHEWWWW whyd this take me a week to write bye sunoo was making me go crazy. anyways yay guess their love languages!!!! i think it's obvious but if it isn't oops + layout inspired by my fav bywons <3

[hopesworlld]

౨ৎ only you, my girl, only you, babe

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — jealous!anakin x fem!reader

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — you can't leave anakin, you just can't, he won't survive it

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 1k

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — swearing, jealous!ani, arguing, crying, using sex as a means to make up, smut ( dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, mentions of oral f receiving ) think that’s all !

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — he's so whiny, i want him

part two part three masterlist

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"baby, please, just tell me what you were doing talking to him," anakin pleaded, his face tight with tension as he followed you though your shared apartment.

"ani, he's my friend i've known him since uni," you groaned, entering your bedroom, "we literally lived together for three years why are you being like this?" you questioned, turning to face him with narrowed eyes, watching as anakin's face dropped, he pinched the bridge of his nose, glasses sliding down as he pouted at you.

“i saw how he looked at you, how he hugged you…” he said and you shook your head, frustration welling in your chest as you watched anakin’s hands twitch, lips trembling.

“oh my god, anakin, he literally just hugged me, we are good friends you are being ridiculous,” you told him, turning around and walking over to your wardrobe, pulling out some more comfortable clothes to wear around the house, you loved anakin with every fiber of your being, but you couldn’t help but feel trapped when he got like this, so possessive and needy, acting as though everyone in the world was against him.

“baby, you know i’m not mad at you,” anakin began but you span around, eyes hard and voice like ice as you spoke to him.

“you’re not?” you spat, “oh, you aren’t mad at me for absolutely nothing? well thank you, anakin, i really fucking appreciate it,” anakin’s eyes went glassy, sniffling wetly, gaze falling to his feet.

“baby, i’m sorry,” anakin whimpered, tears rolling down his golden cheeks, “please don’t be mad at me,” he begged but you simply ignored him, you felt bad, you always did when anakin cried, he was such a sensitive soul, so desperate for approval, for your love, he had never felt like enough, never felt that he deserved you and it made your heartache but you couldn't keep feeding into his jealousy.

you went about doing what you were doing, tugging your shirt off and replacing it with a soft t-shirt, an old one you had, had since you were a teenager belonging to your father, before tugging down your skirt and slipping on a pair of shorts, the motions were soothing to you as you listened to anakin cry, something to distract yourself.

“baby,” anakin whined, “don’t ignore me, please, please, talk to me,” he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, burning his wet face into your neck, “i love you, i love you so much, please don’t ignore me,” you sighed, relaxing slightly in his hold. “baby?” he whispered, planting butterfly kisses along the side of your neck, paying extra attention to your sweet spot just bellow your jaw.

“ani,” you said gently, “you can’t keep doing this,” you scolded lightly, heart clenching when anakin sniffled, clinging to you tighter, arms a secure weight around your hips.

“i know, baby, i’m so so sorry, i don’t wanna hurt you, please, just don’t leave me,” he begged and you could feel his cock hardening against your back as he began to grind on you, short little thrusts that brought a swell of heat into your stomach.

“ani,” you sighed, “i’m not gonna leave you, angel, you just need to stop getting so upset every time i talk to another guy, i only want you,” you told him and anakin melted.

“yea?” he asked you, beginning to grind against you harder, little gasps falling from his lips, “only me?” he whispered.

“yes, ani, you i promise,” you said, a small groan escaping you when anakin pressed himself harder against you, cock brushing against your clothed cunt, “fuck, ani,”

“am i making you feel good, baby? tell me, baby, do you like it?” he asked, rutting harder against you, exhaling harshly against the back of your neck, he was still whimpering, tears flooding down his cheeks as he pleaded with you.

“yes, so good, ani,” you promised him as he began to tug at your shorts with needy hands, pulling them down along with your panties exposing you cunt to the cold air, you shuddered but it wasn’t long before anakin was sinking his fingers into your sopping heat, opening you up for him. you hissed at the sensation, cocking your hips back against him.

“i’m the only one that can make you feel like this,” anakin said, “only me, promise me,” he begged, thrusting his fingers harsher, and you moaned at the stimulation tilting you head back to rest on anakin’s shoulder.

“i promise, angel, only you can make me feel this good,” you stammered out and anakin sobbed, you heard him shuffling behind you, pulling his cock free from his jeans, he hardly gave you a second to think before he was tugging his fingers from your pussy and replacing them with his cock, he didn’t give you time to adjust, thrusting into you harshly, groaning at the feeling of your cunt cleanching around his throbbing cock.

“baby, oh fuck, feel so good wrapped around me,” anakin told you, gently pressing at your back so that you were bent over, one hand secured around your waist holding you in place while the other was holding you down, you hissed at the new position, the angle allowing anakin to sink deeper into you, cock head brushing against your cervix.

“fuck, ani, just like that,” you praised and anakin’s hips jolted, “doing so good for me, just like that,” you said, eyes fluttering shut as anakin continued to fuck into you with needy whines, chasing his relief as well as yours, one of your hands fell to your clit, swirling your index finger around the bundle of nerves in a figure eight pattern, you knew anakin wouldn’t last long when he was worked up like this this and it would break him if you didn’t cum, last time that had happened he had eaten you out until you were sobbing, tears streaming down your cheeks and hips shaking with overstimulation.

“fuck, baby, so wet,” anakin said, “god, this pussy was made for me, we fit so good together,” anakin told you, “no one else could get your pussy this wet, make you feel so good,” his words were becoming mindless blabber as he drew closer to his orgasm, you could feel his cock twitching inside of you, “mine, all mine,” he said, and you nodded along, mind becoming fuzzy from pleasure.

“yours, ani, all your’s,” you promised, cunt cleanching as you drew closer, the sensation of anakin pumping deep inside if you and the stimulation on your clit enough to send you over the edge.

“yes, yes, fuck, never leave me, never ever, never,” anakin commanded though his voice was squeaky, high pitched as you felt his hips stutter, “i’m gonna cum,” he cried out.

“that’s it, come for me, ani, wanna feel you cum, angel, fill me up,” you told him breathily, thrusting you hips back to meet him and anakin was gone, his thrusts were erratic before he spilled into your pussy, filling you up with his seed. you moaned, the feeling of his hot cum flooding your insides enough to send you spiralling, a scream falling from your lips as you clenched around anakin’s cock, milking him of every last drop before going lax in his hold.

“i love you,” anakin whispered, “i love you so much,”

“i love you too, ani,” you replied, letting him tug you towards the bed, collapsing down together in a mess of limbs.

“don’t ever leave me, okay?” anakin said, and you nodded.

“never, i’m yours,” you promised.

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i kinda hate this but i wanted to write some whiny ani so hope you enjoyed !

tags: @johnbassplayercutie

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself back up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

[clumsybriar]

Ghost x Wife! Reader — My Pretty Girl

Ghost x wife! Reader

Masterlist

Notes: use of (y/n), reader is female, ghost really adores his wife, fluff.

Word count: 6,858

Warnings: some swearing and bullying.

———————————————————————————

Simon stopped in the doorway watching his wife get ready. He was awestruck by her always. She was curvy, and pretty, and her personality sold it all.

She was in his words ‘a sensitive bugger’, to which she would disagree and tell him she was in tune with her emotions and then giggle. She was so sweet and patient and was willing to try and be everyone’s friend even if she was an introvert. The deal was, they had to talk to her first.

“Pretty girl.” He uttered coming up behind her and kissing her cheek. She had her make up all done and it was natural looking. The way she liked it. Her hair was straightened and she was just trying to get dressed until Simon interrupted her.

“Si!” She whined cutely as she only had one leg in her shorts and her other one was lifted as she was trying to stick her foot in the hole. Simon had snatched it up trapping her in place.

“Don’t whine, dovie.” He smiled as he balanced her. “I love you with all my heart, I’m just showin’ it.” His deep Manchester accent boomed within the four walls surrounding them.

His words were not an understatement either. He adored her entirely, worshiped the ground she walked on. He was a man who was well in love with his wife as he should be. She was gorgeous, even if she had stretch marks, or a bigger booty, or larger breasts. How ever it was, he loved her no matter what she looked like.

“Ah, pretty girl, not this outfit.” He smiled leaving a trail of kissed down her neck to her shoulder and continuing it down her arm.

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked nervously as she looked up at Simon.

There wasn’t anything wrong with it, he loved it. Frankly he would have said that about any outfit she left the house with or were wearing around the house. Even if it was her tangled and messy bed head and a t-shirt and boxers of his. He would still slobber over it and have the same remark.

“I love it, you look so gorgeous in this outfit pretty girl.” He kissed her knuckles.

“Si-si,” she snorted. “You say that about anything I wear.”

“Can’t help it love.” He tapped her butt with his hands. “You look good in everything, and nothing at all.” He teased softly. His lips trailing down her neck again as his hands wondered her body.

“We can’t,” she out a half things frenzied attack which made up of lots of kisses and groping over her soft skin. “We said we would meet Mr. and Mrs. Price at 3:30 at the winery.” His hands still grabbed at her thighs as he tried to sneak a few subtle touches elsewhere. “And soap and a Gaz will be there with their…”

“Pay them no mind, pretty girl.” Simon hummed as he stood up straight. She was petit against him, as in he towered over her and she was just this dainty and tiny little hobbit compared to him.

“Yes lieutenant.” She giggled she was trying to fight off his large hand that gripped her in thigh still up in the air as she wanted to get dressed. He patted her butt one more time as he let her go and laid on the bed watching her as she got dressed.

“Ya’ wearin’ that devils peice of clothing?” Simon asked as he watched her turn around and change her bra. “Go no bra.” He whined slightly. It was so out of character for him to be so whiney like this, but with her he could express himself in any way. He was so comfortable with her.

“I’m wearing a bra.” She fastened the new one and made sure her breasts settled right in it. He rolled into his belly as he rested his head on his fist.

“No bra,” he grunted out.

“Yes bra!” She argued back smiling at him.

“Let me see.” He pawed at her butt. She had fasted her cargo wrap skort and turned around grabbing her crocheted black crop top that cupped around her breasts.

“Pretty lace lovie.” He referred to her bra looking the dark green and how it compared to her skin.

“Your such a tease.” She giggled.

“Can you blame me lovie.” He sat up watching her out on the crochet top. “Such a pretty girl.”

“You try to make my head big.” She hummed as she put on her sandles.

“Baby, your head ain’t ever gonna grow big enough.” He teased her some more as his hands rested on her hips. “Your a pretty girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her collar bone. “And you don’t realize it.”

“I’m not that pretty.” She said softly.

“Beg to differ.” He stood up kissing her cheek. “Dead pretty.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him softly. The two of them had been Mr. and Mrs. Riley for four years.

He met her a year prior to their marriage during a mission. She was a pretty little civilian working her ass off in a library while she tried to finish her art degree. He was a lieutenant in the SAS. And the building she was in, had a bomb located in the center.

Task force 141 had the responsibility to defuse the bomb and evacuate the building.

Ghost could remember it clear as day. He was rushing around giving orders to civilians while (y/n) was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, unsure if she should move because they could have been a threat to her safety, or if they thought she was the threat.

Needless to say, Gaz who was surprised by the lieutenants kindness in that moment with (y/n), knew he was a love sick puppy as soon as he set eyes on this little American woman.

Everytime Gaz retells the story, he always states something along the lines of ‘havin’ a hard time tellin’ who was the deer in headlights and who was the car about to run the deer over’. Soap would often talk about how everyone in the task force and who had been under Ghost’s command were jealous that she got all his soft and friendly words and they got ordered barked at them that day.

Needless to say, the universe, as cheesy as it was, had made sure their paths crossed so the two could be together.

Though everyone knew Ghost was in love when he gave her his mothers engagement ring as her own engagement ring. It was the last thing he had of his precious mother who had been tortured and killed by Roba. When they laid eyes on the gorgeous ring that had been worn by his mother many, many years ago, they knew he had found the woman he was going to settle down and come home to everyday, especially when his mother’s matching wedding band slipped on his wife’s finger during the wedding.

The wedding was truly something else, to (y/n) and Simon, it felt like a breath of fresh air finally being able to call one and another husband and wife even if they had been for months maybe even a year prior to wedding.

Simon could remember how ethereal (y/n) looked when she appeared from behind the doors. His breath had caught in his throat, and the tears had instantly welled up in his eyes. Soap had to pat his back as Simon—for the first time—had cried in front of many people.

The task force could have sworn it would have been (y/n) weeping heavily, but on that day it was Simon. And no one judged him for it, because she had for sure been the most beautiful bride, especially if you ask simon.

“Ready to go my dovie.” Simon hummed as he wore a white button down shirt and some slacks.

“Ready.” She grabbed his hand as she admired how his tattoos were on display. “You look charming.” She said softly as her eyes met his.

He could stare into those eyes for eternity.

“Mmm,” he leaned forward and kissed her. “Thank you baby.” He kissed her again. “Not as good as you, pretty girl.”

“Stop that!” She giggled as she stuck close to him.

“Never.” He hummed. Ghost had always been so playful with her, letting her see is fun side where many others didn’t get to see that from him. He always made her feel special though that was one thing for sure.

It didn’t take long for the two to arrive at the winery as they walked to the building to see Maria and John price already sipping on wine.

“What’ya want baby?” Simon asked as his hand was gently placed on her lower back.

“A sweet cider.” She said quietly as she was shooed around larger crowds.

“Mmm, want a pear apple cider?” He asked as he started a tab.

“Yeah.” She hummed as they waited. Her hands remained on his arms as she traced his tattoos. The bartender sat their drinks on the counter as they walked out the back to meet up with Maria and John.

“Well, well, well,” John stood up and shook Simon’s hand. “How’s it goin’ Simon.” The older man asked.

“Better everyday.” Simon hummed, a simple answer to how it truly was. Fantastic everyday when he was with (y/n).

Maria cooed softly at (y/n) as she was a very motherly person in general. “Oh darlin’, yer’ youth is refreshing to m’soul.” She hummed giggling as her accent was very Irsish and thick. “A wee baby’s skin isn’t as soft as yer’ skin.” She pinched (y/n)’s cheek gently. It didn’t take long for (y/n)’s cheeks to flare up in a rosy tint.

“Hi Maria.” (Y/n) greeted softly as she kissed the younger woman’s cheeks.

“Oh Simon, I imagine she’s keepin’ ya’ young as well with all her youth,” Maria teased the man. “We’re are ya’ two keepin’ the fountain of youth, Johnny and I could go for a dive.”

“Backyard.” Simon joked as he leaned down and hugged Maria as she kissed his cheeks as well as a greeting.

“Hi missy.” John hummed as he kissed your cheeks. “Keep him better behaved, he’s been causing me trouble at work.”

“I’m sorry,” (y/n) stifled a laughed as she looked up at Simon.

“Don’t you be givin’ my wife ammo.” Simon joked.

“I think your wife has plenty of ammo, me’lad.” Maria hummed. “Yer’ a soft husband, not like m’John who goes fishin’ and leave me with the screamin’ banshees.” She referred to her kids.

“Guilty as all be.” John smiled, sweet bliss for him.

They stood around and chatted as they waited for Gaz and Soap to appear. Of course (y/n) knew the two girls would be coming along as she tried to remember how to blend in so she wasn’t targeted.

“You’ll be targeted no matter what, m’girl.” Maria said softly. “Your a pretty lady, and them boys have known you for years ‘cause o’simon.” She hummed. “Pay’em no heed. If we need a break, you and I can always turn Hyde and walk in the vineyard.”

“Okay.” She said shyly. (Y/n) always felt like she dressed too kid-ish around them even if she was dressing more for her age, being 25. She sometimes believed she was too immature for Simon’s who was 32 and well prepared for life.

“Your so sweet, and so kind.” Simon whispered to her as he coddled her close to him. “So much sweetness, Dovie.”

(Y/n) flushed red and smiled up at Simon. She enjoyed his compliments but it often made her bashful.

“Ya’ look delightful, little one.” Maria smiled as she looked at your mature but youthful outfit. “Good thing Simon knows how to fight, these men would be all over ya’ if ya’ had that ring finger bare.” Maria hummed pointing at (y/n)’s ring finger smiling.

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” She brushed it off sweetly.

“I wish for your sake I could agree with ya’ but Simon’s already gave five different men the stink eye.” John chuckled lightly.

“No one fucks with my baby.” Simon said seriously.

That made (y/n) giggle as she patted Simon’s chest.

“I hope we didn’t miss the party.” Soap hummed as he walked hand and hand with his girlfriend. (Y/n) froze up a bit as she curled more into Simon taking a larger sip of her hard cider.

“Slow down.” Simon cooed softly. “No need to rush unless you would like to hug the porcelain throne tonight.”

“Sorry.” She said softly as she looked down to make sure her cleavage wasn’t too much.

Soap and Gaz were around her age, and the two were young, and they had a habit of staring, not on purpose, but because sometimes, (y/n)’s cleavage was a bit more on show depending on the shirts she wore. And she had a god given right to flaunt it. That’s what Farrah, Alex’s wife always told her when they were visiting her cousin in America. She loved her cousin's wife, finding comfort and understanding in her.

Ghost had snapped at the two before for staring, but he also couldn’t blame them. It was a good sight to see in his eyes.

“Anne, Lilliana.” Maria greeted with a polite smile.

Both women looked so elegant and wore beautiful dresses that spoke Italian villa. (Y/n) felt so out of place wearing a skort and a crop top. Too Americanized among a group of Europeans. The sharks were out today and they were gonna get her. Those sharks were named Lilliana, and Anne.

She smiled nervously saying a soft hi.

“You look so…youthful.” Lilliana said as she leaned against Gaz. (Y/n) could tell it was a forced smile and a fake compliment. They thought she looked immature.

“She looks very lovely, doesn’t she?” Maria smiled as she swooped the girl up and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “My eldest wants (y/n) to go to the boutique with her so (y/n) can help her shop for clothes.”

“Aye, the ladies can have a day out.” Soap hummed. “And us lads can go to the pub and watch footy.”

“Ya’.” Maria nodded, smiling gently. “We’ll have to plan something out.” She said softly.

Simon watched as his wife finished her cider as she looked at Anne and Lilliana’s outfits. He could see the swirling storm in her eyes comparing herself to them.

“Baby.” Simon said softly. He wished she’d understand she was breathtaking and that she shouldn’t compare herself to other women. In his eyes, until the day he dies and beyond that, he will always think she’s the most breathtaking woman. His hands gently brushed down her hair as he looked at her deep in the eyes.

He would continue to devour her with his eyes until she understood how exactly he felt.

“Yeah,” she said softly as she looked at her giant of a husband.

He felt himself melt at the sight of her looking up at him while her hand rubbed his chest gently.

“You wanna another cider?” He asked softly, his hand gently squeezing her hip.

“Yeah, I can come with you.” (Y/n) said softly as she followed him close.

His hand gently grabbed her as he guided her to the bar top again.

“How’s my pretty girl?” His voice was deep and had an edge of huskiness in it, maybe a bit breathy as well. It made (y/n) swell with love knowing that she got him worked up enough.

Her eyes glanced up at him as she smiled softly. “Better now that it’s you and me.” She said softly.

“To many people, baby?” He asked gently, looking at her with the softest eyes.

“Somewhat?” She looked away nervously. His hand rested on the thin of her back as they waited in line.

“What’s the matter?” He whispered into her ear. It was his way of saying ‘we can have a private conversation right here’.

She fiddled with his collar as she straightened it out. Her eyes glanced around nervously seeing how she wasn’t the only one dressed in the style she was, she had to remember Anna, Lilliana, and Mrs. Price were all older than her, so they would have a different fashion sense.

“Am I childish, overly youthful?” She whispered in his ears. He leaned forward as both his hands grabbed her hips tugging her closer.

He wondered what had got her thinking like that, then it dawned on him. Those two girls were always targeting you.

A month ago, (y/n) had come home crying, having gone out to lunch with the two girls and Mrs. Price, who made sure to deliver (y/n) personally at the Riley’s residence after the luncheon they had. She had been a crying mess blubbering in Simon’s arms all the while Mrs. Price was explaining to Simon what took place as she’s doing her motherly duties in soothing the younger woman.

Soap had thought it was a good idea for the two ladies to welcome the newcomers, who Gaz and Soap had started dating at the same time because the girls were best friends and they had met the two at the club.

Simon could remember Mrs. Price said that one of the newcomers had ‘accidentally’ fumbled their tea and split it all over his lovely wife. He could remember Maria quoting the air when she said accidentally with an eye roll. She knew it was on purpose. Simon knew it was on purpose.

“No dovie, you're beautiful,” he hummed. “I love ya’ just the way ya’ are.” His Manchester accent made it sound like honey. “You're dead gorgeous and I’ll tell ya’ forever until ya’ learn it.” He paused as he ordered their drinks as it was their turn after a few minutes of waiting. He had it put onto the tab he had opened earlier and would have to remember to close later. “Don’t ya’ be listening to those girls, they ain’t got nothin’ on my pretty little wife.” He smooched her cheek. “They’re jealous. Jealous of your gorgeous looks, your gorgeous attitude, your sweet like honey, pretty girl. Don’t let ‘em damper your mood.”

These were the very moments she knew she had made a good choice in marrying Simon. Because he picked up the broken pieces when she needed a bit more support. He let her cry in his arms over nothing until she was soothed and better. He held her hand as he made sweet love to her constantly praising her and making sure she was okay. He was the best husband she could have ever asked for.

“I love ya’ now pretty girl, I love ya’ forever,” he kissed her lips as she giggled softly.

“Love you too.” She hugged him as he brought her left hand to his mouth kissing her knuckles.

“You're my good girl, don’t let ‘em damper the mood tonight.” He smiled at her as the waitress brought the drinks to them, handing it off.

“Yes Si.” She nodded as she followed him back out behind tight against his side.

The night went on and very little trouble appeared.

Maria suggested (y/n) and her take a walk in the vineyard and plan a day out where the two could go with Moira—or Murray for short—and have a shopping spree.

“Ye’ boys be good, I’m takin’ m girl and chatting, don’t worry Simon, she’s with me.” Maria smiled as she put her hand on (y/n)’s waist and walked her into the growing garden of grapes.

“Hold up lassies, Anne, Liliana, go join ‘em.” Soap smiled as he waved them off. “Good fer ye’ gals to figure out their dynamics and then ye’ can have girls' nights.”

“Oh yes, join us.” Maria smiled as she held her disappointment. (Y/n) hid her face dropping as she looked at Simon who gave her a reassuring smile.

Maria would fight on his behalf.

“Let me see, Murray likes the kind of stuff yer’ wearing now. I’m my we’ babes mama, and I’m not good with her fashion even if she is a teen.” Maria laughed. “I could pick out an outfit and she’d yak and say, ‘mam it’s uglier than a tit’.”

(Y/n) giggled at Maria repeating what Murray said.

“Look, teens dress like you too.” Anne snickered and snorted with the other woman, making Maria give them a glare.

“Such…youthful…mmm…” Lilliana tapped her chin. “That’s not the word I’m looking for, more like childish outfits.” Lilliana nodded her head as she sipped her wine. “And you don’t drink wine like an adult, you drink hard cider, probably beer too.”

(Y/n) frowned as she looked ashamed.

“What are ye’ girls yapperin’ about, beer is good, hard cider is better than wine,” Maria corrected them. “And she is fashionable, and me’ daughter is 20, an adult, only 5 years younger then Mrs. Riley here.”

“25 she’s practically a baby.” Anne snorted. “Simon needs a woman, not a girl. Someone who’s mature, honey you don’t fit the bill.” (Y/n) felt that nagging feeling in the back of her head that said: ‘run…run away…no one will find you’. She was starting to think they were right, she was immature and Simon just didn’t know how to tell her that.

“Oh that man loves ya’ beyond all means, yer’ his Persephone.” Maria ignored them. “These fools are just jealous and tootin’ their own horn.”

Maria wasn’t afraid to tell people how it was. She was an outspoken woman. Mr. Price would often tell (y/n) to watch Maria and learn, body language the fact that no fucks were given when she was handling a person who pissed with her family.

Just like that one time a man said Harry sucked at footy. The wretched man said no one would want an imbecile playing footy when he didn’t know his left from his right. Maria, pounced quicker than John who sat back with a can of beer in his hands and a smirk on his face. (Y/n) could remember that one clear-as-day. Simon had leaned over and whispered to her to remind him to never oiss her off. It was terrifying for the two newlyweds nonetheless. (Y/n) was 21, and Simon was 28. The two were afraid they were gonna get a foot up their ass as well for something they did, but didn’t do.

“Let me see your gorgeous wedding rings.” Maria hummed. “He married ya’, and put those precious rings on yer’ finger cause he loves ya’ more than the world.”

Anne and Lilliana paused as they looked at the rings.

Their eyes met one and another as they smiled at each other.

‘Oh dear lord, no. God, no.’ (Y/n) thought to herself.

“Pretty ring,” Lilliana, hummed as they leaned forward. “Can we see?”

(Y/n) hesitated as she knew how important these were to Simon, in fact they were so important to her she hardly let anyone touch her hands.

She showed them from a distance but Anna quickly snatched her hand up making (y/n) squeak out.

“There my mama’s rings baby,” Simon hummed as he smiled at (y/n). “I want ya’ to wear ‘em, they’d look so pretty on your hands.” He kissed your knuckles. “Marry me, pretty girl, make me the happiest man in the whole wild world. Make my mama proud and wear her rings, please baby.” He was so sweet as he proposed to her overlooking Scotland's pretty scenery.

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Atta’ girl,” Simon lurched forward kissing her as he put the engagement ring on her finger. “Let’s keep the other one tucked away safely so when I get to see you in a pretty dress.”

“These are important to me and Simon, please just look.” She gasped as they gripped her fingers tightly.

“Now ye’ brats let her go.” Maria swatted at their hands.

They didn't let go of (y/n)’s hands and actually started to tug on her ring finger. She was trying to push their hands away as she felt her eyes well up.

“Oh she’s a crybaby too, so immature.” Anna laughed.

“Oh it’s so pretty,” Lilliana started to slip the rings off her fingers as (y/n) tried everything to stop her. Maria did as she called them a nasty word in her native tongue, and tried to get the ring back.

“Now ye’ girls need some manners.” Maria snapped at them.

“Be a shame if they got lost, he might leave you then,” Anna snorted at Lilliana’s words.

She didn’t want Simon to leave her. She didn’t want those rings to be lost. She started to cry as she shut down not knowing what to do. Her anxiety was through the roof. She glanced at Maria with pure panic.

(Y/n) felt her breath stop, her whole world stop as they tossed them behind them like they were nothing. Lilliana and Anne threw each one back like they were nothing. Like they were senseless gold or fake jewelry that would tarnish the wearer’s finger green once the coating was off of it.

Her eyes widened as she watched Maria chase after the area they went to but she couldn’t see them because they had rolled. She didn’t know what to do other than to cover her mouth and sob. “My rings.” She whispered as she saw Maria sit up straight and look at her.

The other girls walked off laughing as they went deeper in the vineyard and hadn’t been seen for the hour Maria and (y/n) were in the ground searching.

Her sobs got louder as she lost faith in finding the rings Simon had gifted her.

“Calm down m’babe, go get the boys and they can help search, go get Simon m’love.” She hushed her and pushed her up to the grounds where the boys were sitting and laughing. She had her mouth covered as she sobbed quietly trying not to gain anyone’s attention.

What if Simon left her and the girls blamed her for the lost rings.

He knew better, those two girls had caused you more trouble over their jealousy. It was just that fact that the anxiety and the fear crept up in her mind.

“Her cousin and Farah are tryin’ for a baby,” Simon hummed softly. “Been givin’ me a bit of a baby fever. Never thought I’d be one for having my own kids, but here I am. She’d look gorgeous pregnant.”

His words would have made her heart beat a bit faster if it wasn’t for the fact that her rings were missing.

“(Y/n),” Price shot forward very fatherly over the girl since she didn’t have her father or mother who had sadly passed years ago. and he was the one to walk her down the aisle with Maria. “What’s wrong?”

Her knees were dirty, and her hands looked like they were digging in dirt.

Simon was the first to bolt out of his chair as she refused to look at any of them. Concern was etched on Simon’s face as he knew when she cried there was a reason, whether it was a silly one or not, it was enough to warrant him to coddle her and figure out what was wrong.

Her eyes never left the ground even as Simon cupped her face and tugged her close.

“Baby, what’s got you upset?” He was gentle as Price was behind her shielding her from other passerbys.

She sobbed and covered her mouth as her other hand clung to Simon. She felt light headed and terrified.

She knew she just needed to spit it out. “Maria and I…” she felt a hiccup break her words as she was crying heavily. “We’ve been searching for an hour.” She sniffled as she started to hyperventilate and her words started to get jumbled.

Simon’s heart cleaned as he brushed the hair from her face.

An hour? An hour of searching for what?

He wasn’t understanding, but he knew one thing: wrapping her up in his arms and getting her to calm down was the first thing to do.

“Shh, shh,” he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Shh, love it’s okay, it’s okay.” He smiled at her softly. “Deep breaths, nice and easy for me, pretty girl.”

She did some of that but other than that she was back to babbling and trying to get her words out.

“And I can’t find it.” She sobbed her hands refusing to clutch too tightly to his white shirt, knowing she’ll get it dirty.

Simon's concern deepened as he tried to make sense of (y/n)’s words. "Can't find what, love? What are you looking for?" He continued to hold her against him, one hand gently stroking her back to try and soothe her sobs.

Then her words were finally freed up knowing she needed to convey the message Maria sent her to tell the men.

“The girls asked to see our rings, and Maria and I didn’t know they were going to rip it off my finger. It hurt and we tried to stop them, and they threw both my wedding band and engagement ring.” She sobbed. “It was your mom’s wedding band and engagement ring, I can’t find them.” She felt like bile could escape from her mouth at any second.

“They did what!” Soap looked like he was gonna have a conniption while Gaz covered his mouth as he looked apologetically to the two of them.

Simon's eyes widened in shock as he processed (y/n)’s words. The girls had stolen her rings and thrown them away? And not just any rings, but his mother's wedding band and engagement ring.

Anger boiled within him, but he forced himself to stay calm. (Y/n)’s tears and pain took priority. He held her tighter against him, his voice strained. "Those bloody girls. They’re gonna pay for this.”

“I can’t find them.” She huffed as more tears welled up in her pretty eyes.

“I’m gonna go talk to the manager and make sure they know that we have a missing engagement ring and a missing wedding band.” Price patted Simon on the back. He disappeared quickly as Simon rubbed his wife’s back trying to soothe her as he whispered to her.

“We’re gonna find them baby, I won’t stop looking until they're back in your fingers.” He kissed her cheek. “So breathe baby, we’re not leaving until they're back on your finger.”

“I’m gonna go down with Maria and start searching in the area she thinks she saw them go.” Soap said as he looked at the two of them. “We’ll find them.” He reassured the two.

“Better find them, and you better keep those rotten women away from my wife!” Simon snarled at the two men.

“Yes LT.” They saluted.

Simon stuck close to (y/n) as he tried to calm her rapid heartbeat and her fears that didn’t seem to be washing away until she saw those rings in either his hands or her own hands.

Johnny and Gaz looked in the area’s Maria had pointed to them, while her and John searched the area she swore up and down it landed at.

The doubt and fear hadn’t settled in (y/n)’s stomach, right now she wished it would go away. She was about ready to throw up all that dinner that Simon worked hard to cook her.

“We’re not gonna find them.” She felt her anxieties creep into the back of her mind.

“Baby, we’re not leavin’ until those damn things are back in that hand.” He pointed to her left hand. “I promise you that.” He cupped her face.

“But Simon,” she was exhausted. “What if…what if we don’t find them?” She fretted as she looked at her husband with tears falling down her cheek.

Simon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew how much those rings meant to his wife, and the thought of losing them was torture for him.

He knew from day one they had made her feel special, feel well loved by her husband who adored her so much. She felt like it was her fault she lost them and it was on her now that they were missing not having protected his precious rings.

He gave (y/n)’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, his voice low and reassuring. "We'll find them, love. I promise. We won't stop until we do.”

It’s all she needed to hear and take in to slowly get back to searching. It had taken him multiple times to finally get it through her head he would have those rings back as soon as he could find them.

“You gave those to me hoping I would keep them safe since they were my engagement and wedding bands but I couldn’t.” She cried softly as she searched the ground near him.

Simon's heart clenched at her words.

Yes, he had given (y/n) his mother's rings with the hope that she’d keep them safe. But he never expected her to be put in this situation. Who would? He’d never expect two girls to be that jealous and put his wife in this much emotional turmoil.

"Love, it's not your fault," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “You didn’t ask for this. Those bloody girls had no right to touch your rings. They had no right to touch you, pretty girl.” He stopped and filled her face. “And I’m gonna protect you until the day I die, and if that means tellin’ them girls off, then that’s what the hell I’ll do.”

Their hands searched the ground as their eyes looked everywhere. It wasn’t until thirty minutes later Maria bounced up with excitement and happiness.

“I found one, ye’ lads keep yer’ eyes open for the engagement ring, I found the wedding band!” She shouted happily as she rushed over to (y/n) gently placing the ring on her finger. “Sweet babe, we’ll find it, I promise.”

Simon watched as Maria comforted the woman he loved so dearly. His anger subsided momentarily, replaced by relief and gratitude to Maria for her kindness. There was truly something special about the mother of three.

"We will," he said, agreeing with Maria. His voice was more steady now. "We'll find that engagement ring, even if we have to tear this place apart."

The two of them went back to searching as they looked through the ground as thoroughly as they could.

It wasn’t until another fifteen minutes had passed after Maria came barreling with the wedding band that they had found the engagement ring.

Simon's eyes caught a glint of something shiny among the blades of grass. He crouched down, gently pushing the grass aside to get a clearer view.

His heart nearly stopped as he saw what it was—(y/n)’s engagement ring.

He had found it, he felt his heart flutter as all that stress and worry subsided and it was gone. The relief was back and he couldn’t be happier than ever to present the ring back to his precious wife who had been stressing and withering as the time went on.

"Love, come here," Simon called out, his voice calm but urgent. He motioned for her to come closer, his eyes never leaving the small glint of gold in the grass.

He plucked the object from the ground and smiled seeing the ring shine in the golden rays that were the sun's final moments before the moon came out. “Come now my pretty girl.”

As soon as (y/n) reached his side, he held up the engagement ring, showing it to her. "I found it, love. I found it."

She felt her mind go blank and her eyes well up as she let out a sob lurching forward and hugging Simon.

Simon wrapped his arms around (y/n) holding her tightly in his embrace, tears streaming down her face. He held the woman tight, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"It's alright now," he whispered, his voice soothing. "We found it, love. We found your ring." Simon carefully placed the engagement ring back on his wife’s finger, his touch gentle yet firm. As he did, he couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on her cheek as a way to reassure her everything was alright. "It suits you," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. "It always has. Looks gorgeous on my girl.”

She wiped her eyes as her hands found the back of his neck as her nails scratched into the base of his hair.

“I’m so sorry I lost it,” she murmured into his neck. “I didn’t mean to lose your mama’s ring.”

Simon gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. He wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"Don't apologize, love," he said softly. "Those girls took them without your consent. It's not your fault. And you didn't lose them—we found them.”

(Y/n) knew Ghost would defend her until his last breath, and even at that, he would transcend and defend her for beyond human measure.

“I love you,” (y/n) said softly.

Ghosts hand gently caressed her face as he wiped her tears away. “Love you too, pretty girl.” His voice was breathy and a whisper.

(Y/n) was glad she wasn’t in the mix when Ghost confronted the two girls. She could hear the words Ghost growled to them as he lectured them on proper treatment of people in general.

He sounded in that moment, more like a lieutenant than he did her husband and it was a strange thing to hear in his voice when he had always been soft and cute with her.

“He’s gonna be a good father.” Maria hummed as she stood proudly with her hands on her hips.

“Yeah he will,” (y/n) smiled as she rocked in her feet back and forth waiting for him to return to her.

When he did return, (y/n! spent the rest of the night tucked to his side constantly on the receiving end of his hushed whispers of love and adoration.

“Pretty girl,” he cooed as she looked up at him.

“Yeah?” She said softly, eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

“Ready to go home, pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on pretty girl,” he smirked at her as she knew that look. “I think I need to remind you how pretty you truly are.”

Those words were a reminder that this night could last even longer than she thought they would.

“Yeah pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

[jj-one]

STRAY KIDS + WHEN YOU’RE BUSY AND THEY CRAVE YOUR ATTENTION !

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: skz x f!reader genre/tags: smut, fluff, nipple play, fingering, exhibitionism, voyeurism, marking, sexting, sending nudes, piv, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap ur willy), masturbation, oral (f receiving), dry humping, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, spanking, there is probably more but i’m too lazy to write them all words: 4.4k

[note] if you remember seeing this before yes i’m the original author i didn’t plagiarize lol, i made a new blog and was formerly known as @milkychae but deleted a while ago. i’ll be reposting all my old deleted fics and using this as an archive !

BANG CHAN. It was finals week, aka your personal hell. You were always super nervous about tests and if you didn’t score over an 80% that may as well be a failure to you. You sighed as you opened yet another textbook to read, your dickhead professor thought it would be a good idea to pile more homework on top of the fact knowing you all needed to study. Your major was biochemical engineering so you shouldn’t have been too shocked by all this intense workload. As you were sitting on the bed you heard a noise come from the door, looking to the left of you to see Chan coming inside. You don’t really put much thought into it though since you see him literally everyday and you were just really focused on studying right now. That’s when Chan starts to come up behind you, rubbing your shoulders and planting a kiss to your cheek.

“Hiii y/n, I’m back!” He says cheerfully, “I couldn’t wait to see you baby,” he proceeds to try and pry the textbook out of your hands so you can give him your full, undivided attention but you pull it back.

“Sorry babe but I really, really need to study right now.” You tell him with an exhausted look on your face. You’ve been studying for only 2 and a half hours but it feels like the entire day.

Chan looks at you and puts his arm around you, “You look so tired sweetie, why don’t you let me give you a massage?” He asks, already starting by wrapping his hands back on your shoulders.

You loved this man dearly, he just came back home from an 8 hour shift at work but is still offering to give you massages and help you out when you’re stressed. You want to tell him no and that you seriously need to focus back on studying but the intrusive thoughts were slowly winning. Ultimately you gave in to Chan’s desires and he gave you a gentle massage. The massage started off pure at first with no intention of going any further but then his hands slipped a little too far and came in contact with your nipple. He noticed you weren’t wearing a bra underneath so he slips his hand through the opening of your t-shirt, light moans were now leaving your mouth from his touch.

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day babe,” Chan softly whispers while pinching your nipples, bringing his other hand down to your thigh and gently caressing it. Chan has always been good at being a distraction for you and his cock is definitely what you need instead of reading about the Principles and Techniques of Molecular Physics.

LEE KNOW. Saturday nights were the best, you had no work and got to do whatever you wanted for the whole day. You weren’t much of an outgoing kind of person so you chose to stay in and have your boyfriend Minho come over and be lazy with you. You were wrapped up in your cozy sherpa blanket watching your favorite kdrama season finale, you and Minho both loved kdramas but you got way too into them. Your eyes have been glued to the show since Minho got there and you only spoke about three sentences to him. He’s sitting on the couch next to you and he’s not as remotely interested in the show as you are, he keeps looking around the room and sneaking glances at you from time to time.

He can’t stop noticing how cute you look today, you were wearing very light makeup and had messy hair. He thought you looked so adorable in your current state, just in awe of your natural beauty. He wraps his arm tightly around you and tries to give you a kiss, but you quickly pull away from him so you can focus back on the TV, not trying to miss anything. Minho gets visibly upset by this, he wants to give you his affection yet you’re currently denying it. He tries one more time to kiss you but you continue to keep pulling away to watch the show. That’s when he decides he’s had enough and grabs the remote to turn off the TV, causing you to get frustrated with him.

“What the hell Minho?!” You say in confusion, you were getting so close to knowing who the girl’s father finally was.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he just starts roughly kissing you, pushing you down on the couch and hovering over your body. He pulls away leaving you breathless, then proceeds to nibble on your earlobe, dragging his tongue further down to lightly suck on your neck, touching a certain spot that makes you inhale sharply. He brings one of his hands to your stomach, rubbing it gently. Beginning to toy with the hem of your sweatpants and wants nothing more than for them to be off.

He was almost going to give in to that idea but a new one came to mind, an even more sinister thought. He grins as he continues rubbing down your thigh, you want him to wipe that smirk off his face so badly because you have no idea what he’s up to. Wondering what he could possibly be thinking about right now. Minho brings his fingers to your clothed heat, sliding them inside the sweatpants and starts rubbing your clit through your panties. You moan for him as you close your eyes, feeling the friction. You buck your hips in the air so you can feel more of him, but Minho grips your hips and holds them firmly in place.

“No, stop. No moving ‘til I say so,” Minho says sternly, giving your clothed pussy a little slap as he looks at you. “Since you’re so willing to ignore me, I get to tell you what to do from now on.”

CHANGBIN. You’ve been cleaning the entire house preparing for your parents to come over for dinner. You wanted to make sure that everything was perfectly spotless and the amount of cleaning you did today could account for your whole lifetime. You were cleaning the stove and just as you were about to grab another clean sponge you see Changbin with a whole box full of donuts from Krispy Kreme.

“How’s it goin’ babe?” Changbin asks while setting the donuts onto the table, he sees you wearing an apron and giant yellow gloves, “looks like you’ve been doing some serious, hard labor!”

“I’ve been cleaning for 5 hours now..” You say with an exhausted look on your face, “I haven’t even finished cleaning the stove yet.”

“Who cares about the stove y/n,” Changbin says, chuckling at your frustration about needing everything to be neat and tidy.

“I’m serious Binnie, I need to clean everything and make sure it’s all perfect!” You tell him while pouting.

“Why don’t you take a break babe.” He suggests out of concern, grabbing your hands to take your gloves off and sets them aside. He slowly brings your body up against the wall behind you, kissing you passionately. He must have been wanting you all day by the way he was hungrily kissing you, the man was sucking on your face for dear life, exploring the depths of your mouth as both your tongues were intertwined. He takes off your apron and grips his hands around your waist while your leg wraps around him, he held you so securely.

As things got more heated, and all your clothes were off, he aligned himself inside you. Your hands were snaked around his neck as you desperately move your hips to feel his cock, feeling every bit of his thrusts in you. Letting out a high-pitched moan as you grab a fistful of his hair and scream his name. Your legs grew weak with each and every stroke Changbin gives you, feeling like you’re going to faint. He continues pounding into you like no tomorrow and you hold tightly onto his shoulders for support. His skin was sticky and sweaty from all the work he’s putting into fucking you, his face looked super focused as he was hitting all the right spots. He was fucking all your stress away at this point and you were feeling so good. You feel yourself coming to your peak as he thrusts into your dripping heat, you’re seeing stars at this point. The harder his strokes were getting, the faster you were to reaching your climax.

“Mmm…gonna cum!” You cry out in pleasure, slowly losing your grip on him as you slip from his grasp. Changbin swiftly picks you up and pins you harder into the wall, making sure you don’t go anywhere by fully pinning his body up against yours. You feel so connected to each other in this very moment as you’re both about to cum, both letting out a string of moans in unison. You both reach your highs together, dizzy as your orgasm washes over you, feeling his cum leaking out of your cunt and dripping down to your leg. You just spent the whole day cleaning and now you have to get cleaned up before your parents come in approximately 30 minutes.

HYUNJIN. It was a long day at work, you were about 6 hours in and you already wanted to end it all. You work at a clothing store and on this particular day for some reason everyone and their mom wanted to come shopping. You’ve been working the register nonstop and you had yet to take a break, you were so busy that you forgot to even take one. You asked one of your coworkers if they could cover for you while you go on lunch and they said yes. You were so excited to finally be able to get to sit down and eat. As you sat in the break room you checked your phone for any missed messages, you see that you have a bunch of missed texts from the new guy you’re seeing. Hyunjin’s name is plastered on your phone and you check the messages straight away, eyes growing wide at what was shown before you. Hyunjin sent you a string of messages:

‘Hey y/n, what’s up?’ [1:15 pm]

‘Imyyy’ [1:25 pm]

‘Wyd? Are you at work?’ [1:42 pm]

‘Yea you’re prob at work :P’ [2:26 pm]

‘I’m a little horny lol’ [2:41 pm]

‘I want youuuu’ [3:02 pm]

He then proceeds to send you a couple shirtless pics of him in bed and a short video of him stroking his erect cock through his boxers. You quickly look around to see if anyone would be able to notice and you don’t see anyone else in the break room besides you. That’s when you open the video fully to see the rest, quickly get turned on as your wetness is only growing. You ran to the bathroom so you can send a photo back, snapping a quick pic of your boobs under your shirt and telling him how wet that video made you at work. You love that he now comes to you for when he feels needy, you like that he craves your attention while you’re gone. He sends you another message saying how much badly he wants to fuck you and he can’t to pick you up from work. You smile at that and tell him you only have 2 more hours to go.

You realize it’s time to get back to work and now all you can think about is that damn video Hyunjin sent you. The way he was stroking his cock all nice and slow made you want to be there to give him even more pleasure. You were walking around all day with wet and sticky panties since you came a little bit from fingering yourself in the bathroom to the video. You couldn’t wait to bounce on Hyunjin’s cock all night after you get off work.

HAN. This was now the fifth dress you tried on and you still haven’t figured out a style you liked yet. You were getting frustrated but you weren’t going to let your pickiness get you down from shopping. You were at the mall with your boyfriend Han and as much as he hated shopping he liked to see you try on the pretty dresses for him so it was a win-win. You go to a different store now and you check out those dresses, making a beeline for the pink ones since that was your favorite color. You check out all the various designs and ask Han which ones he liked best, he didn’t really give much input and just picked the shortest one for you.

You gave him a playful side eye and put the dresses you didn’t like back, heading over to the dressing room so you can try everything on. As you were trying on the dresses, Han was sitting on a bench outside the door, texting all his homies. He soon started to notice how long it’s taking you in there and although you were busy trying on dresses he was getting tired of sitting here and waiting for what seemed like an eternity. He sighs as he figures out what to do, but he ends up deciding to knock on your dressing room door. You don’t reply but he can hear stuff rustling from the inside so he knocks again and tells you it’s just him.

“Uh… I think I need help,” you tell him reluctantly, he’s not sure what you need help with but he comes in anyway. He sees you standing in the dressing room with your hands in the air and the dress halfway up your body, he starts to laugh at how you were stuck in it.

“This isn’t a laughing matter, please help get this damn thing off of me!” You whine, and he begins to unzip the dress from the back, releasing you from its tight grip. You feel like you can finally breathe once again and slip the dress off of you, now completely naked in front of Han. You were only wearing your skimpy g-string and you had your nipples pierced which Han loved about you. He looks you up and down, licking his lips as if he was about to destroy you. The only thought in his head right now was to kiss you, so he grabs your face and crashes his lips into yours, moving some of your hair out the way. You kiss him back but harder and even more passionately, letting him fondle your boobs and play with your piercing. As he toys with your nipples he looks at you with pure lust, his eyes were all hazy and he looked nothing but in love with you. He started kissing your chin and licked the side of your neck, making you get all wet and worked up for him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this right here baby,” you tell Han as he continues roaming all over your body.

“Doesn’t that make you wanna do it even more though?” He says mischievously, sucking on your neck and giving you small hickies. You knew the chances of getting caught were very high but at this moment, you didn’t really seem to care. All you wanted right now was Han and that’s all that was on your mind. His hands slid down between your legs, spreading your pussy lips with his fingers and coating them with your essence. Your wetness was leaking down to your thighs and it took everything in you not to scream from Han’s touch. He inserts two fingers in your tight little hole and goes in and out slowly, you press your lips together trying not to make a sound, so he covers your mouth.

“Shhh… quiet babe,” He whispers into your ear.

FELIX. It’s not secret to Felix that you were a workaholic, you often immersed yourself in your work a little too much. He knows you are an independent woman that enjoys the freedom of working but at the same time he really wishes you’d give that same energy towards him sometimes. You traveled a lot for work and although you two live together, it still puts a strain on your relationship being apart for long periods of times. Felix loves to be around his lover and the fact you are always so busy with work makes him want to shower you with even more love and affection when he sees you. You were gone on another usual business trip but this time it was for a week, that was the longest you’ve gone for work and it was driving him insane. Everyday he thought of you and he would text you little things that he saw randomly throughout the day that reminded him of you. You always appreciated how much Felix adored you and your work ethic, he loved you for you.

The day you came back home from work Felix came to you with open arms, he was more than excited to see you again and all he wanted for the past week was the attention of his beautiful lover.

“I’ve missed you so so much baby,” Felix says whilst giving you the biggest hug, his body was so warm and you melted right into him. You gave him a kiss and he moves you both over to the couch, pulling away from kissing you for a second with a weird grin plastered on his face.

“What’s with that look?” You ask, wondering what he’s thinking in that head of his.

“I got you a little something, I’ll be right back,” he quickly runs to your shared room and comes back with a black box in his hand.

“What’s this?” You ask curiously, holding the box up to examine what it could be.

“Just open it, you’ll be surprised.”

You do as you’re told and open the box, you see a purple velvet bag and you open to see what’s inside. It was a vibrator, it had multiple settings and looked very high quality and expensive. You instantly blushed as you held the item in your hand, looking up at Felix so he can explain what’s going on.

“I wanted to get something to relieve your stress..” he continues “because you’re always so busy and stuff, y’know.”

You smile at the naughty gift your boyfriend gave you, giving him another kiss and thanking him.

“Want to use it on me now?” You ask, knowing that he’ll say yes to you in a heartbeat. Felix’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store and he agrees without hesitation. He sits next to you on the couch with the toy in his hand and you’re now making out. As one thing leads to another, you end up naked lying on your back with your legs spread wide out for him. He has the toy on one of the highest settings and you’ve squirted about three times for him already.

“Come on baby, you can give me another. Just one more,” Felix says demandingly, having too much fun with this toy.

You spring your head back as you feel the toy in your soaking wet entrance, you don’t know how much more of this you can take. Your legs were violently shaking and the couch was soaked with your juices, you felt like you didn’t have anything left in you. Felix keeps fucking the toy in and out of you making you scream out for him, he palms himself through his pants as he does it.

“I never want you to be away from me again y/n,” Felix’s deep voice rasps as he pumps the toy into you deeper, “I mean it this time.”

SEUNGMIN. You were laughing hysterically as you were scrolling through TikTok, you’ve been glued to your phone for hours at this point. You showed Seungmin, who was sitting next to you on his bed yet another TikTok that he probably wouldn’t think is funny. You put the screen up to his face to show him the video and he looks but doesn’t really seem that interested. You tell him how funny you think the video is and he just shrugs his shoulders.

“You know, I’d rather have you shoved in my face rather than a phone.” Seungmin says to you.

‘Ok boomer’ you think to yourself, not wanting to actually say it incase he gets offended. You decide to just ignore his comment and go back to watching hilarious TikToks. Seungmin starts to get bored and he when he gets bored he becomes bratty. You hear him whine a little bit, looking up from your phone to see him pouting and all you want to do is give him a kiss.

“C’mere,” You command for him to come closer, he quickly does so looking like a lost puppy. He plants a chaste kiss to your lips, then begins to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. He slips a hand under your tank top and lightly squeezes your boob. You sigh as you feel him innocently brush past your nipples, then he trails some more kisses down your stomach. Once he makes his way down to your lower body, he quickly takes off your pants with ease. Teasing your clothed pussy a little bit, watching as a wet spot starts to appear from the outside, he circles your clit and starts to sniff you.

“You smell good baby,” Seungmin compliments, finally taking off your panties and tossing them somewhere on the bed. He kisses the inside of your thighs and feels the warmth of your skin on his lips. He loves every inch of you and he wants to take his time with you. Flicking his tongue on your clit and you hiss at the feeling, you want him to fuck you with his tongue. He licks a nice long stripe across your wet folds, staring up at you while doing so, your phone still in your hand the whole time. Seungmin brought his head up more to face you, “keep looking at your phone while I eat you out babe, pretend like I’m not even here.”

You comply with his instructions, continuing to watch TikToks like normal and Seungmin goes back to devouring your pussy like the good boy he is.

JEONGIN. It was a very nerve wrecking day for you, you were meeting Jeongin’s parents for the first time today. You put on your most expensive Dior perfume and prettiest heels to meet his mom since Jeongin told you she was very into fashion and can tell when girl’s wear cheap perfume. You wanted to impress this woman as much as possible since this was definitely going to be the man you wanted to marry someday. Jeongin reassures you the whole day that she was going to love you regardless,

“Even if you wore perfume from the Dollar Tree she’d still like you!” He tries to give reassurance. You don’t believe that’s true but when you get to his mom’s house you meet her and the rest of his family. His dad was super nice and everyone was very welcoming towards you. You were actually shocked by how chill and laid back everyone was, you felt bad for assuming that they would be mean to you. Jeongin’s mom was the last person you met, when you met her she came off as a little timid but then she started to warming up to you once you started having a lot of things in common.

She was really sweet and super funny, you now know why Jeongin is such a charming guy. You see Jeongin come up to you so he can pull you away from his mom for a bit but his mom brushes him off to tell him she wasn’t finished talking. He walks away with a defeated look on his face and you continue talking with his mom. When the food is ready everyone gathers at the table to eat and you sit beside Jeongin, his mom was across from you both. You were busy for most of the day talking with his family and getting to know everyone. He wanted to be with you but he couldn’t even get the chance, feeling left out in the conversation. You feel your phone vibrate from the table and you pick it up to see who it is, seeing that it’s from Jeongin but you’re confused because he’s sitting right next to you. You turn towards him to ask him why he just texted you but he puts his finger to his mouth to tell you it’s a secret. You place your phone under the table to look at the message,

‘Come meet me in the bathroom upstairs by the laundry room ;)’

You instantly blush from reading that text and try to hide your flustered expression. You look at him and nod your head to signal that you understand. Jeongin shoots his head up and tells his parents who were across the table from him that he needs to be excused to go to the bathroom. You shoot yourself in the foot thinking about what excuse you can come up with so you both don’t look sketchy.

“Sorry please excuse me I have to take this important call for my job,” you quickly say to his parents as you head over to where you’re supposed to go.

You meet Jeongin in the bathroom where he told you to and you went straight to heavily making out. He grabs your ass and spanks it lightly, “How long you think we can be in here before they start to notice?” You ask, his lips now glued to your neck.

“I dunno, I honestly don’t really give a fuck.” He says bluntly, turning you around to face the sink and the mirror, pressing his bulge against your ass. He starts grinding his dick against you slowly, kissing your neck and running his fingers down your body. He lifts up your dress and drags his cock to rub against your clothed cunt, you lowly moan his name and he smiles. He’s about to fuck you so hard against this sink all the while his parents not having a clue where you two went.

[nadvs]

bittersweet (one-shot)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary rafe both loves and hates that you’re his sister’s best friend. he gets to see you all the time, but it’s a constant reminder of what he can’t have… until one night, when his jealousy takes over and he can’t keep himself from you any longer.

» masterlist

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Rafe wonders if you know that he can hear you. It’s just false hope, but maybe you’re trying to make him jealous.

You’re in the bathroom getting ready for tonight’s party with Sarah, your pretty laugh reverberating through him as if he’s right next to you.

But he’s not. He’s never been as close to you as he would like to be.

His bedroom is right next door, where he’s sitting in bed, wasting time scrolling on his phone, eavesdropping.

“You’re lying,” Sarah says.

“I’m dead serious,” you reply. “I’ll read it to you.”

Rafe overhears you reading out a text you got from your ex last night… he loves you, he misses you, he shouldn’t have ever broken up with you.

He remembers seeing you in tears a few weeks ago when you visited his sister. Admittedly, he lingered by Sarah’s closed door, hearing you sniffle through your words about how he had dumped you out of no where.

It made his blood boil knowing someone did that to you. But like always, he pretended like you have no effect on him, later passing you by in the hallway without a single word exchanged.

“Do you think you’ll get back together with him?” Sarah asks after you finish reading the message.

“No way,” you reply. This makes Rafe’s heart feel a little lighter. Until he hears your next words. “I hope that guy I was talking to last weekend shows up tonight.”

Rafe fucking hates hearing you talking about guys you like. His crush on you is too big to not let it rattle him. And tonight, he might have to watch you flirt with someone that’s not him in his own fucking house?

He can’t take it anymore, rushing to the bathroom to see you standing by the mirror, your makeup halfway done.

“Do you have to be so loud?” Rafe snaps.

The only way he can talk to you without throwing any flags up is by being a dick. And admittedly, it kind of feels good getting his sexual frustration over you out like this, even though it’s severely misguided.

Sarah only rolls her eyes, having fully resorted to ignoring him at this point, but you smile at him in that way that makes his heart jump.

“Okay, grumpy,” you laugh. You’re in baggy sweats and big t-shirt and still manage to look fucking stunning. “You’re one to talk.”

Rafe knows you’re referring to the many fights of his that you’ve witnessed, both with his family and with people at parties.

He hates that your smile and your teasing make him want you even more.

He scowls at you but before he steps away, his eyes linger on you a little longer than you think they should. Wishful thinking, you tell yourself. You gave up on the fantasy that Rafe will look at you as anything more than his sister’s annoying best friend a long time ago.

“Sorry,” Sarah says, apologizing on behalf of her brother like always.

“Don’t worry about it,” he hears you respond. “I know what he’s like.”

Rafe shuts his door. What he’s like. You don’t fucking know what he’s like at all.

If you knew that you’re his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night, you’d realize he’s so fucking grumpy because he doesn’t get to talk to you how he wants to. Or touch you how he wants to.

He’ll have to avoid you at his party tonight. He’s not interested in seeing you flirt with some jackass.

That night, Rafe is halfway into a beer, zoning out of the conversation his friends are having around him.

You’re on the other side of the room, arm linked with Sarah’s. You’ve changed out of your comfortable clothes, wearing a dress that leaves little to the imagination. Man, what he’d do to you if he had the chance.

But he knows he doesn’t. You’ve seen him at his worst. Who in their right mind would want him?

As you chat with Sarah, your eyes drift to Rafe every so often. You can’t help it.

There’s something about his presence that’s so magnetic and dominant. And why is it when he’s wearing his hat backwards like that, your stomach does somersaults?

You need to get your mind off of him. It’s never gonna happen.

Then your eyes land on your ex-boyfriend, who just entered the room.

Rafe watches your face drop and your eyes lose their light. You turn to look at Sarah, whispering something to her, then disappear into the crowd. When he realizes your idiot of an ex just showed up, it takes everything in him not to crush the solo cup he’s holding.

He told himself he’d avoid you. He needs to keep his own promise.

Later in the night, you’re filling up your cup at the keg when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Don’t hog it,” he says, a joking tone to his voice. You turn to see your ex standing behind you. You only furrow your brows, in disbelief that he thinks he can speak to you so casually.

You don’t respond and he awkwardly shuffles in place.

“Did you get my text?” he asks.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you say. It’s been weeks, but being with him again brings it all back, the way he told you he doesn’t see a future with you anymore. Instead of sorrow, though, you just feel anger.

“Can you just… can you give me five minutes?” he asks.

“Leave me alone,” you tell him. Rafe appears behind your ex, his blue eyes fixed on you. He’s angry like he always is, his jaw clenched.

You figure he’s annoyed that you’re using the keg when he wants to top up his own drink.

“I don’t get why we can’t just-” he continues, but is interrupted.

“She said to leave her alone,” Rafe mutters. Your ex turns around to face him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks.

“This is my house.” Rafe has to duck to talk to him. The image stirs something in you. “Either stop bothering her or get the fuck out.”

Your ex turns to look at you, shaking his head in confusion.

“This your new boyfriend?” he asks, voice thick with envy.

“What? No,” you reply. The way you look almost appalled by the prospect makes Rafe feel like his heart is being wrung out.

You almost laugh. As if Rafe would want you.

Your ex turns to face Rafe again. In the tension of the moment, you feel a lump form in your throat. Anger from what your ex did to you. Embarrassment that he won’t leave you alone. Excitement that Rafe is defending you, followed by a sharp sadness that he’ll never see you the way you see him.

Rafe is about to swing at him. But then he sees the look on your face and his anger dissolves.

“Fuck off,” Rafe says sternly.

Your ex looks at you incredulously. You’re sure he knows Rafe would take him down in a second.

When he walks away, leaving you and Rafe just a foot apart, you flatten your lips as you look up at him.

“Thanks,” you say quietly. You never thought you’d thank him for anything.

Rafe’s eyes soften when he realizes your eyes are wet with the threat of tears. You feel mortified to be crying in front of him, so you leave your drink on the table behind you and brush past him, stalking upstairs to the same bathroom you did your makeup in.

Your hands grip the counter as you look at your reflection. You managed to swallow down your tears, determined to have a good night.

Three knocks thud against the door.

“Someone’s in here!” you say, weak voice echoing through the small room.

“It’s Rafe,” you hear.

Your heart leaps. What the hell could he have to say to you?

You swing open the door to meet his gaze. He’s wearing an expression you haven’t seen before.

Rafe can’t fucking take it anymore. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him, boxing you in between his body and the wall. His arms are crossed to keep himself from touching you.

“Why were you with him?” he demands.

“What?” you ask. He’s mad. Of course he’s mad. This is Rafe. Mad is his default setting.

“He’s obviously a fucking idiot,” he snaps. “And an asshole.” You’re not sure if this is some cruel display of annoyance, but you don’t have the patience for it.

Still, a part of you is buzzing to be alone with him.

“Why are you giving me shit right now?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. He brings his hand up to yours, pushing it away from your face.

It’s the first time his skin has ever touched yours.

“Why were you with him?” Rafe repeats. He’s so close to you that you can smell him. His aroma is earthy, like a comforting campfire. But nothing about him is warm. Never has been.

“How do you even know…” you mumble in confusion. You realize you have no clue how he knows that the guy he almost fought downstairs was your ex. “You don’t know anything about the situation.”

“I heard you,” he says. “I heard you crying over him. Why were you with someone who said that shit to you?”

Rafe recalls the way you told his sister that your ex called you names during your last fight. It made him sick.

You freeze for a moment. He heard you? Why the hell would he care to listen?

“Well, sorry I was being loud,” you say, still a little bitter about how he talked to you earlier tonight even though you had laughed it off in front of him. “Can you just… give me a break? It’s been a shitty night. I don’t need you judging me on top of it.”

“God, that’s…” Rafe steps back, taking off his hat just to smooth his hair back and put it back on again. “I’m not judging you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

A few heavy, tense seconds pass between you. Rafe is looking down at you, at how pretty you are, at how badly you need to be appreciated.

Then he leans down to press his lips against yours.

You were wrong. Rafe does have warmth to him. He’s nothing but warmth right now. The way his hot mouth captures yours and the way his hands cradle your cheeks fill you with need and happiness and a whirling sensation of unsteadiness.

Is this actually happening?

Rafe’s whole body buzzes when you kiss him back, your hands hooking up around his arms, palms on his shoulder blades. He’s pressed up against you, deepening the kiss, his tongue running over yours.

He wasn’t annoyed. He was jealous. You feel dizzy from the revelation.

Your back is flush against the wall, Rafe’s body curved against yours. He bites on your bottom lip for a second, sending an arousing pinch of pain through you, as if he’s punishing you for making him yearn for you.

The contradiction between your mind and your body is jarring - you thought he was annoyed by you, but he’s kissing you like he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t kiss you before.

Tasting and touching you like this makes Rafe harden, and he perches his hips back, unsure if this is too much for you. When your hands slide down to roughly pull his hips back towards you, he doesn’t need any more signals. You want him just as bad and it makes every inch of his skin burn.

Rafe shifts back, forehead pressed against yours, unable to open his eyes for a second.

“I need…” His voice is hoarse. He can’t do it like this. Not with you against a wall in the bathroom. “Let’s go to my room.”

You nod and follow him, letting him lead you onto his bed.

Your eyelashes overlap as Rafe hovers over you in his dark room, kissing you again. Tucked away from the crowds and music downstairs, all you can hear is the sounds of your lips smacking together and his fast breaths.

You spread your knees apart so he can settle between your legs. Desire consumes you as he grinds his cock against you. The sensation awakens the need you’ve had for him for so long but always told yourself you’re not allowed to feel.

You can’t help but feel a gnawing fear that this is just a meaningless encounter to him. You’re not equipped to deal with being just a piece of ass to Rafe. Sex with him will change everything. It needs to be worth it.

You gently push against his chest and worry floods through Rafe that he did something to make you uncomfortable.

He’s looking down at you in the shadows of his bedroom, his breaths shallow and fast.

“We shouldn’t…” you begin, and he nods quickly, arms straightening to sit up. Shit. He fucked up by kissing you. He’s not worth the risk to you.

But again, you pull him back in, this time with your hands cupped on his shoulders.

“Rafe, wait,” you breathe. “I’m saying… we shouldn’t if you don’t…” You take a beat to gain some courage. “I like you. For real. I’m not doing this if I’m just a hook-up to you.”

Rafe didn’t realize how heavy his heart sat in his chest until he hears you say that. He looks at you with wonder.

“You’re not just a hook-up,” he says, as if it’s obvious to you. “I like you so fucking much. I have for so long.”

“You mean it?” you ask. You realize this man has the power to break your heart.

He kisses you like you’re so damn delicate, like you could break in a second. The way you just said that, the edge and fragility of your voice, makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. You feel it, too. It’s not just him.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I mean it.”

Your lips meet again with even more heat this time. He grinds against you with more pressure than before, his erection hard and big.

The fact that you’re the reason he’s so turned on is unreal.

Rafe’s hands dip under the hemline of your dress, fingers ghosting over your thighs. You tilt your hips up off the bed to offer him the space to pull your dress up. He immediately takes the invitation, watching you in awe as the fabric slides over your chest, your shoulders, finally off your body.

His open mouth attaches to the flesh of your breast, kissing and sucking. He pulls the cup of your bra down to close his lips over your nipple. The sensation makes you tremble and moan.

Your pretty sounds are better than anything he has ever heard.

His tongue flicks and wriggles over your nipple, then he moves to your other breast, eager to give all of you the attention you deserve.

“Let me eat you out,” he stammers. “Please.”

“Yes,” you whisper.

For so long. He said that he’s liked you for so long. Your mind is rustling with excitement and disbelief, your thoughts tangling together as you think back to every time he looked at you. Every time he spoke to you.

It’s crazy to think you can now reframe all those memories, knowing what you know now.

Rafe pulls your panties down and wishes his lights weren’t off so he could see you better. But what he does see in the dimness confirms what he always knew - that every part of you is beautiful.

You feel his fingers spread you apart, the cool air pressing against your core. The image makes his stomach numb with infatuation.

“Fuck,” he says, nearly whining. “Fuck… I can’t tell you how many times I wished I could do this.”

“Me, too,” you admit breathlessly. “I never thought you… wanted me.”

“Of course I do,” he half-chuckles. He regrets ever making you feel like you’re not desirable. You’re perfect.

Rafe dips his head. You’re like sugar on his tongue. You gasp when he presses his mouth against your clit. He can’t believe how much arousal is pooling between your legs as he starts to lap at you.

“You’re so wet for me,” he praises, planting a kiss on your cunt. His tongue twists and curls and when it dips inside of you, you feel like you’re on another planet.

He readjusts his hands to spread you even wider, wanting to pamper every fucking inch of you.

You bunch his hat between your fingers and throw it off of him to feel his hair. You dreamed of touching his hair for so damn long. You can’t help but tug at his roots as he gifts you with the best feeling you’ve ever had.

The thick, wet sounds of him slurping fill you with bliss. His mouth is giving you so much damn pleasure, the same mouth that would snap at you and frown at you and make you wonder why he disliked you so much.

It was all an act. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

You felt how big he is when he was grinding against you. You need him to fuck you. Now.

“Rafe,” you moan.

“Hmm?” he says, mouth still closed around your clit, sending a vibration through you.

“Get inside me,” you whisper. “I can’t wait anymore.”

His heart is thrumming with exhilaration. He still can’t believe that you want him.

He pulls off his t-shirt and unbuttons his jeans with such fever that you smile in endearment. He’s moving like you’ll change your mind or come to your senses or something.

He sits over you on his knees, holding his cock at the base. It’s big and curved so fucking perfectly that you start to ache for him even more.

This will change everything and you’re so glad it will.

Rafe slowly drops to rest on his elbow on top of you, his other hand guiding him into your soaked entrance. You shudder in near unison as he pushes into you slowly, every inch feeling better than the last.

“Damn,” he groans, unrestrained. “You feel so fucking good.”

“What you expected?” you ask, a small hint of insecurity in your tone.

“Baby,” he laughs. The nickname makes your body tingle. “Even better.”

He pulls back slowly, then buries into you again, a deep, languid exhale leaving his lips. He ducks to kiss you as he fucks you slowly and lovingly, stretching you out, your chests pressed together.

His pace begins to quicken, the curve of his cock hitting deep inside you so perfectly.

“Can I go harder?” he asks against your mouth.

“As hard as you can,” you request. He shudders as he pulls back and slams into you with all his force. Your body jolts, his bed squeaking.

“Be mine,” he says between thrusts. “I need you to be mine.”

“I am,” you say. “I always was.”

This sends him over the edge. He’s about to cum, but he needs to get you there first.

To your disappointment, he pulls out, but when his mouth is back on you and his fingers are scissoring into you, you lift your feet off the bed and throw your head back.

Your walls start to flutter around him as you cum and he quickly shifts to stuff his cock back into you so you’ll finish around him. He feels his gut tighten and he explodes into you with a string of oh, fuck’s, your pussy squeezing around him in pulses as he spasms through his orgasm.

Rafe loves the way your arms and legs are wrapped around him. He feels so needed by you. It’s like a drug.

He collapses on top of you, holding himself up the best he can so not to crush you.

You’re both sweaty and breathless and smiling. He dips his head to press his warm cheek against yours as you remain wrapped up in each other.

“So was I,” he mutters against your ear.

“What?” you breathe, your legs numb from pleasure.

“I was always yours, too,” he says. He kisses the side of your neck, wishing he could never leave this moment. You let out a sweet laugh, squeezing his big, hard body tighter.

He’s never going to make you doubt if he really likes you ever again. He’s sure of it. He silently vows it as he kisses your neck countless more times.

inspired by this anon! if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[batterygarden]

love is in the air . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

contents: big bro! yuuta x fem & afab reader, dead dove do not eat, sex pollen, incest, virginity loss (reader), drugged sex vibes, unprotected sex w cream pies, size kink w slight pain, oral f!receiving, overstimulation, dacryphilia, 3.2 k words. hbd to my king

18+, minors dni please

When Yuuta’s teleported into his room, he’s horrified to see you already there. 

You’re wearing his clothes, as per usual, and flopped across his bed while you do your homework—likely waiting for him to get home to help you with the math. Normally, this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary; the two of you have always been close and Yuuta doesn’t mind the way you tend to loiter. The thing is, you were supposed to be out shopping with your girlfriends after class today. You’ve been talking up these plans all month–-Yuuta never imagined you’d cancel.

And here he is, high off his ass on cursed aphrodisiacs (misted straight into his lungs by some flower monster) and contemplating every forbidden fantasy in his arsenal with a newfound urgency. 

You jump nearly a foot in the air when you see him, so perfectly still and silent at first that he goes unnoticed.

“Oh my god, nii-san! You scared me!”

You don’t seem to catch how off he is yet, how labored his breaths come or how he’s covered in a sheen of sweat. He wishes you would. Maybe then the proper alarm bells would be ringing and you’d leave. 

Yuuta only backs away, shoving hair from his face while his eyes dart all over the room, anywhere to avoid drifting to your body and the way his t-shirt pools around it. 

His fatal mistake is his failure to beeline it straight out his bedroom door. In his defense, Yuuta’s thoughts are awfully foggy, and an escape route is hard to pin down, even within his moderately-sized room. Instead he trips over a book bag and lets himself tumble backwards to the floor, his katana thunking loudly when it drops from his shoulder.

His vision and hearing are a bit foggy, too, as he watches you approach him off his bed, almost appearing to move in slow motion. 

“Nii-San? What happened to you?” 

He makes a strangled sound when you reach to touch his face, leaning away from your hand. 

“Just lost my balance! I’m okay. Y’shouldn’t touch me right now.” 

Did his words come out slurred?

You frown, letting him know the fall wasn’t what you meant when you were asking, practically pinning him against the wall to feel his forehead.

“Hmm. I can’t tell if you have a fever or you’re just hot.” 

“It’s probably nothing. Was fighting a curse earlier and—achoo!“  

Yuuta turns away to sneeze just as you move your head to the side to look at him closer. He accidentally sneezes directly into your face, earning a little gasp. 

He scoots away frantically then. 

“Sorry, sorry! I don’t wanna get you sick, okay? I need to be alone. You can leave.” 

You wipe at your face, holding back a giggle at the state of him. You haven’t seen Yuuta this impaired since he had the flu when you were kids.  

“Nii-san, you need me to take care of you.” Your tone is matter of fact, but doting too. Deep down you’re relishing in this role reversal—Yuuta’s always the one looking after you, not the other way around.

He starts shaking his head, rubbing tiredly at his eyes when suddenly a wave of vertigo hits you. 

Then you’re tumbling to the floor with him. 

Your voice sounds far away when you breathe a little woah, taking longer than you should to register what’s just happened. When you do, you turn to Yuuta—a reflex whenever you’re hurt or something goes wrong—you’ve grown spoiled by his overprotective nature. So much so that even the tiniest stumbles have you expecting a warm, calloused hand beneath your elbow, lifting and steadying you. 

Yuuta takes longer than he should to come into the focus of your eyes, and when he does you find his face buried in one of his hands while his other adjusts his pants. 

“Are you okay?” He sounds breathless, making no move to touch you or help. Something is seriously up. 

“Mhm. I don’t know why I just…” You pause, almost forgetting what you’re even saying while your thoughts navigate a new fog. Suddenly you’re warm. “I dunno what came over me.” 

Yuuta only scoots a bit farther away in response, dragging himself along the wall. To you it’s almost like he’s moving in slow motion. 

“Nii-san, something is wrong. I feel wrong.”  

Yuuta’s breaths come in huffs when you drag yourself to him then, nuzzling your way between his bent legs.

“M-me too… that’s why I want you to go.”

You shake your head, staring at Yuuta while he stares back, squirming and uncomfortable under your gaze. The warmth inside you is starting to grow uncomfortable—almost painful between your legs. You wonder if this is exactly how Yuuta’s feeling before you consider the possibility that he may be even worse, having been infected with whatever strange illness this is before he even arrived. He’s really working to hold out on you—what a gentleman.  

In fact, you think, that might be the perfect word to describe your sweet big brother. Always looking out for you more than anyone else, Yuuta sets a bar for chivalry unattainable by any man who isn’t him. 

He’s always opening your doors and offering you rides. Holding your hand to cross the street, tugging you back if you try to cross without looking and, occasionally, shoving your tangled fingers in his coat pocket if it’s chilly. He always has this protective nature when other men are involved, glaring at wandering eyes and warning you of potential danger (you recall one time he tripped some guy who asked for your number as he was walking away—he was too old for you and clearly had bad intentions).

Then there’s the way he’s thoughtful. Even when you were kids, Yuuta was always getting you gifts, setting time aside from his busy schedule to play with you or take you somewhere—forging some of your favorite memories growing up. You think particularly fondly of all your old dance recitals—how yuuta would always make time to be there and give you flowers and praise (out of all the bouquets your family supplied, his were the only ones that ever earned a spot on your night stand). 

Even now you’ve got a vase of pink roses in your bedroom down the hall for passing your latest algebra test. 

Yeah, Yuuta’s a chivalrous brother to a tee. 

And the heat in your veins has you wishing he’d be anything but. 

“Y-yuuta. I need you.” Your hands reach to pull at the open buttons of his uniform, but your wrists are quickly shackled by strong hands, gentle but unyielding. 

“Do you know what you’re asking?” His voice is steady for the first time since appearing in his room, albeit a little pained. 

“Yes. Yeah I do.” 

You scoot closer, and Yuuta’s entire aura seems to change, darkening in a way that leaves goosebumps crawling across your flesh. 

Your wrists are freed but you still feel immobilized as Yuuta grabs you carefully by the neck then, tugging your face to his till his lips can capture yours for the very first time. 

You can’t deny that you’ve fantasized about kissing Yuuta, if only on the rare occasions that you loosened the reins on your self control. The kiss feels as electric and all-consuming as you’d hoped, hungry like you’re trying to swallow each other whole. His lips are a bit chapped, rougher than yours and hot in a way you’ll surely imprint into your psyche. What surprises you, though, is Yuuta’s brashness; he’s not reserved like you used to imagine he’d be if he kissed you. He’s being selfish, sucking on your lips and licking inside your mouth like you’re his—and when his teeth sink into the plump of your bottom lip you start to realize that maybe you always have been. 

Yuuta’s kiss is needy and passionate, but it clearly doesn’t sate him as rough palms travel over your body throughout, kneading your sides and your arms and your thighs till you're rearranged on top of him, straddling where he needs you most. 

You’re instinctually grinding down on him once you are, your insides painfully empty and sensitive so that the hard feeling of him through his pant fabric pressing against your clit is the most satisfying feeling you’ve ever had. He’s quickly grabbing at your hips to help push your core against him, and that angle of pressure paired with his attentive mouth against yours has you cumming in minutes, crying out into his mouth while he grips you harshly like a ragdoll, eventually mouthing at your jaw and throat so you can breathe again. It’s the kind of orgasm that has your senses short-circuiting, your vision going in and out of focus while your hearing turns fuzzy—it’s intense and euphoric. You feel drugged.

It’s unnatural how you’re instantly needy again once you come down, panting and light-headed but impatient when you scoot back to reach for his belt. Yuuta’s hand stops yours.

“Hang on—”  

“Please! Nii-san, I can’t wait, I need you—” 

“I know, let me—“ he interrupts himself to peck your lips again. You want him to never stop doing that—the satisfaction is addicting. “Let me give you head first.”

Those words knock the wind from your lungs. Because now is the first time you truly reckon with a truth you’ve been avoiding… Yuuta is experienced. You don’t know who or when (as far as you’re aware he’s never had a steady girlfriend) but the way he says those words makes it clear. Yuuta has made a woman cum. The idea brings a wave of jealousy you usually keep carefully buried—it’s an unspoken rule yuuta doesn’t mention his romantic affairs, so the reality of his sex life is something you’ve avoided. 

“I’m a virgin.” The words bubble out of you uncontrollably. Yuuta chuckles just a little before giving another quick kiss. 

“I know. That’s why I’m gonna go down on you.”

The effects of whatever aphrodisiac you’ve been exposed to clearly haven’t waned as Yuuta manhandles you into a position of his liking before he finishes his sentence—neither of you have gained the common sense necessary to move yourselves off the floor to Yuuta’s bed a yard away. Yuuta’s still the most aggressive you’ve ever felt him as he lays you down, trailing kisses and occasional bites down your skin till he makes his way to his own boxers that rest over your hips. You catch a little glare when he spots them, a week ago he told you to stop borrowing these—you’re my little sister! It’s not appropriate. 

How ironic, he doesn’t chastise you as he yanks those very same boxers down his little sister’s legs. Then he tosses them aside—not even commenting on how you got them all messy—and instantly sets to work, lapping at your pussy like a man starved.

It isn’t an experience to be taken lightly—the first lick of your brother's tongue has you moaning like a pornstar. You have to grip the roots of Yuuta’s soft hair for stability as his mouth sends electricity through your body, pleasure radiating from your cunt all throughout you till you’re not sure you know what to do with it all. Once he latches to your clit, sucking it like a pacifier while his pretty lashes blink closed in content, you can’t help but come undone again—your orgasm intense and lasting even longer than the last time—this feeling is addicting. 

Yuuta licks up as much of your release as he can when you do, then he’s quickly rising up, wiping his face with an arm before tugging off his shirt. 

You feel like the luckiest sister in the universe when you finally come back to earth to watch him, his sculpted body glistening in sweat as he reveals more and more skin—all for you. 

Yuuta’s pants are tugged off next, but not all the way. He gets impatient once they’re low enough for his cock to be freed, stroking it shamelessly, coating it in the mess he made from cumming in his pants. 

Your eyes go wide when you see his size. 

“S-sorry I know t’s a lot. Are you doing okay?” 

There’s a silent but in there, an unspoken i still need more.

You nod quickly, spreading your bent legs so he has full access—it’s true that you’ve cum hard enough twice to pass out for days, but your body is insatiable. Yuuta’s cock is what it truly wants; you won’t—can’t—rest till you get it.

Yuuta’s wasting no time—clearly as needy for you as you are for him. He’s already leaning over you, running his tip through your folds before you can find the desperate words to reply, “Need you inside me, Yuu.” 

That’s as much confirmation as Yuuta needs before he thrusts, stretching your virgin hole till it molds to fit him. There’s a pinch, a sting that pricks tears in your eyes as you accommodate his thick girth, but it’s replaced by the pure relief of him in a matter of seconds. You whine when he bottoms out, your body clenching and grinding towards him of its own volition—again, you’re insatiable. Luckily Yuuta seems to be on the same page as he quickly pulls almost completely out of you, earning a louder whine before slamming back in, hitting a deep, warm spot that has your vision blurring. 

It’s ruthless and mean the way he starts beating your cunt then—you can’t help but contrast it to the way Yuuta rocked you in his lap just a night ago to soothe you through a scary thunderstorm. This man, the one snapping his hips against your hole with bruising force and no breaks, is a different man completely.

You want to meet him halfway, to contribute to creating the absolute bliss that his cock quickly brings you, but your body can hardly keep up once Yuuta gets going. He’s so fast and strong, the most you can do is lay there and take it, clawing at his shoulders and back in a way that matches his animalistic energy. 

Maybe a minute is all it takes before your body comes undone around Yuuta’s cock. Almost too eagerly and certainly the fastest you’ve ever cum before—it would be embarrassing if it weren’t for Yuuta’s loud, wanton moan at the feel of it. 

“F-fuck your pussy’s too tight! Why does it feel so—ngh good—“ Yuuta fills you up for the first time then, flooding your insides with his creamy seed before you even finish twitching from your own release. The heat of your big brother’s cum in your tummy is irreplaceable—you fall in love with the feeling and don’t want it ever to leave. 

Luckily Yuuta’s not done, he’s still hard even after he pumps you full, and his movements don’t relent, in fact it almost feels like he’s fucking you deeper. 

“Y-yuuta it’s so much…” you manage to say through the stuffed sensation that reaches your throat.

You’re still crazy with want, you feel like you’d die if he stopped, and yet your mysterious sex-craze does nothing to counteract the overstimulation. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m really sorry I can’t stop,” Yuuta pries your weak legs up while he talks, folding you up in a mating press. You don’t have the words to reassure him that it’s fine, that you need this, because then you’re coming undone again, throbbing wildly on Yuuta’s cock while your eyes roll back in your head. Yuuta cums with you shortly after, and something in you rejoices that he’s filling you with more of himself—that he’s irreversibly spilling into your most intimate parts. 

He pulls out after that, and your legs go limp—all of you lifeless except your twitching, leaking cunt. It’s a good thing Yuuta’s still needy though, because even if your legs lack the strength to hold him, your insides are devastated by the lack of him—it’s wrong that he’s not still inside you.

“Yuuta—“ you start to protest before he’s manhandling you, dragging you till you’re half draped across his bed, shoving your school books and pencils out of the way. It’s like you’re partially standing, bent forward with your tummy against the mattress, but you let your legs dangle limply while you lay, unable to hold yourself. 

“I know pretty,” he replies, spreading your messy thighs and cunt before shoving himself back inside you, “can’t be done.” 

The sound his cock makes is obscene as it spreads you open again, paired with the whine you let out at the sensitive feeling mixed with relief. The new angle yuuta reaches makes you feel stuffed all the way to your chest. 

Yuuta doesn’t waste time before he’s pumping into you as relentlessly as before, pulling easy orgasms from you again and again till your hips are bruised from his hands and his comforter is soaked with your tears and snot and cum. 

Yuuta’s crying too by the time he cums a final time, gasping and whining while he fills you with what feels like his entire remaining life force, eventually using the last of his energy to pull out with a wince and collapse on the bed, pulling you up so you’re all the way on the bed next to him. You both lose consciousness finally. 

When Yuuta wakes he’s under unusual covers, and finds his vision illuminated by a pink night light—it takes him a minute to recognize that he’s in your room. 

But he’s still naked. He sits up with a gasp, reaching for you as the events of evening come flooding back to him, but you’re nowhere to be found—he realizes you must have coaxed him in here for some reason then left. The clock beside him reads five in the morning, but considering how early the two of you passed out the night before, it’s not surprising you’d clearly already woken. 

Yuuta sips from a cup of water on your nightstand, then finds a used bath towel you’ve got hooked on your door and wraps it around his hips, venturing dizzily out into the apartment. 

He hears the laundry machine going, and passes his room to find his bed stripped of sheets, the mess from your school supplies cleaned up.

Then he finds you in the kitchen with wet hair, clean clothes and an apron, flipping pancakes. 

You look delighted when you see him—more than usual—with a sweet smile and giant pupils. 

“Yuuta! Made you breakfast.” You say making your way to him. 

Not that Yuuta’s had much time to think on it, (he wasn’t worrying over his future when your tight pussy was milking his drugged senses yesterday, that’s for sure), but in the back of his mind, he was sure that fucking you would have irreparable effects on your relationship. You’d always love each other, of that much he was certain—you had a mutual trust in that department for sure. But he was also sure things would be awkward, maybe you’d need space at first and wouldn’t look at him the same. 

But then you hop your way over to him once he walks into the kitchen, rubbing hands up his bare chest before locking your arms behind his neck, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his lips. And it’s not just a peck, either. And the curse’s aphrodisiacs have worn off. 

And maybe, the irreparable effects from last night aren’t going to be so awkward after all. 

[writingdumpster]

secret wife

pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

warnings: none, all fluff

summary: When you go to pick up Bob at the base the dagger squad finds out that Bob's been keeping a wife from them.

word count: 1k

A/N: Thanks for 3k followers!

Bob pulled his phone out of his locker as the guys all piled into the locker room behind him. There was a text from you awaiting Bob. 

I’m waiting in the lobby for you. Don’t take too long. xoxo

“Did you guys see the hot girl in the lobby?” Coyote asked as he walked into the locker room. Bob smirked to himself as he started to take off his flight suit. 

“Who do you think she is?” Fanboy pondered. 

“I was gonna find out after we got changed,” Rooster said. 

“Don’t bother. Bet she’s a recruit’s girlfriend,” Payback suggested. 

“Who do you think?” Asked Hangman. 

“I don’t know,” Payback responded. “But I know what a woman in love looks like.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hangman teased Payback. 

“I’m married,” Payback pointed out. 

“So you tell us, but we’ve never seen your wife,” Rooster taunted. 

“Her picture is on my dash,” Payback said. 

“Could be anyone,” Fanboy joined in. 

“You’ve met her, Fanboy,” Payback said. 

“You can’t prove anything,” Fanboy teased. Bob was quietly enjoying the conversation as he grabbed the rest of his things. He slipped his bag over his shoulders and closed his locker. 

“See y’all tomorrow,” Bob said as he headed out to meet you in the lobby. When he rounded the corner his smile widened as you stood to greet him. You were wearing paint stained jeans and an old t-shirt that used to be Bob’s, but it had been years since that was true. It was yours now, just like he was. 

“You changed out of the flight suit,” you said forlornly when Bob walked up. 

“It was all sweaty, angel,” Bob told you.

“I wanted to take it off you though,” you whined. Bob gave you a cheeky grin. 

“You want me to put on the white uniform when I get home?” Bob offered. He leaned down and kissed you tenderly before you could answer. 

“The hot girl is your girlfriend?” Hangman practically shouted from behind Bob. He turned over his shoulder to see the whole squad watching the two of you. 

“Wife, actually,” Bob said. “Been meaning to introduce ya.” 

“You didn’t say you have a wife!” Phoenix exclaimed. 

“Didn’t come up,” Bob said. “We’ve only known each other for a month.” Everyone gawked at Bob, thinking a month was plenty of time to let your friends know you have a wife. 

“He likes to keep me protected from his work,” you piped in when Bob failed to explain himself. Bob wound his fingers between yours. He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

“What’s your name?” Phoenix asked. 

“Y/N,” you told her. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Phoenix murmured. You could hear in her voice that she felt betrayed by Bob. You knew he wouldn’t notice though. You wanted to stop him from hurting her more.

“I keep my ring on my dog tags,” Bob said, pulling them up from his shirt to prove it. 

“I thought it was your dad’s,” Phoenix told him. “You always talk about him.” 

“Bobby’s told me a lot about you,” you interjected. “I was hoping you would have dinner with us. I’d like to make the pilot who saved my Bobby a good meal.” Phoenix met your eye and you gave her a warm smile. She gave a tiny nod and smiled back. 

“I’d love to, ma’am,” Phoenix said. 

“I’m her wingman,” Rooster called. “Could say that I kept Bobby safe too.” Bob blushed brightly. 

“Payback and I were on the mission,” Fanboy said.

“I saved Bob’s wingman,” Hangman added. You looked up at Bob in question. 

“They know you’re the one who makes my lunches now,” Bob said. You giggled. You always made Bob his lunches. When he was deployed he didn’t get good home cooked meals, so you made sure he had them three times a day when he was home with you. 

“Well, some of you might have to sit on the couch, but I’d be happy to cook for my husband’s friends,” you said.  

“I can’t believe that baby on board has a wife and you don’t even have a girlfriend,” Hangman teased Rooster. 

“You don’t either,” Rooster spit back. 

“No woman can hold me down,” Hangman joked. 

“He’s the one your sister would like, right?” You asked, trying to keep your voice quiet. 

“You’ve got a sister?” Hangman called out. 

“Yeah,” Bob said. “And I’m quite sure she could hold you down if she wanted.” Hangman’s eyes widened. You chuckled. 

“You’re going to set him up with your sister?” Rooster complained. 

“That’s y/n’s scheme. She wants my sister to live near us,” Bob explained. 

“She’s funnier than you, Bobby,” you said. 

“You do spend a lot of time laughing at me together,” Bob teased. He didn’t really mind though. Everytime he had come home to find you and his sister in tears from laughing so hard it had made him even more sure that he’d chosen the right person to marry. 

“Well, when do I get to meet her?” Hangman asked, a wide smirk on his face. 

“I’ll have her come over for dinner with all of you,” you said. “Next Sunday at 6:00. Don’t be late,” you told them. Then you tugged on Bob’s hand, signaling you wanted to go home. 

“Bye, guys,” Bob said. “See ya in the morning.” With that he slung his arm around your shoulders and led you out of the base. 

“I can’t believe Bob didn’t tell us he has a wife,” Payback muttered. 

“I can’t believe Hangman’s the first choice for his sister,” Fanboy said. 

“Why not? You think Bob wants to be related to any of you?” Hangman asked proudly. Rooster snorted. 

“Yes. I would have thought he’d want any of us before you.”  

A/N: There is a part two of the dinner now available

[star-girl69]

Better Than Revenge

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: more jealous clarisse and this time she gets to be insane about it (I Can See You coded tbh)

a/n: soft clarisse MOVE OVER insane clarisse hiiiiiii ….anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Better Then Revenge - Taylor Swift

warnings: possessive clarisse pleek i want you i need you, violence, swearing, punching lol, men, allusions to sex and this is just pretty suggestive, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

The anniversary of Mr. D being sentenced to a life at Camp Half Blood has become his birthday over the years.

Of course, his children use that as an excuse to throw a rowdy party disguised as a simple bonfire.

Chiron turns a blind eye, as long as everyone swears to not give him any alcohol, and there’s still a modicum of responsibility among the camp population.

It’s one of the highlights of the summer, the heat from the fire, the dark night lit only by Selene, where it feels like you can do anything and get away with it.

It’s your first with Clarisse, and by the way she’s looking at you right now, you’re probably not gonna last more than an hour before you get dragged somewhere to make out. Which is not what you want.

You’re already in your outfit, the jean shorts you know she likes, the low-cut top you know she likes, leaning over in front of the mirror as you do your lipstick.

“Do you have something you want to say?”

Clarisse usually sits with you as you get ready for something, since you shamelessly take longer than her. She always calls you her prettiest girl, then expects you not to live up to it?

She doesn’t rush you. She’s never impatient. She just likes watching you, and it’s fun to put on a show.

She always looks at you, but something about the look in her eyes tonight is especially… feral.

“What’d you mean?” she says, smirking and leaning back on her elbows.

The Aphrodite cabin is a particular swirl of activity, but your little corner is just you and her. She refused to wear anything but her camp t-shirt and a pair of jeans, of course, but she looks good in anything.

“You’re looking at me like you want to pounce.”

“Took you this long to pick up on that?”

You laugh, bending over to grab a jewelry box that lives at the foot of your floor length mirror.

“Baby, let’s just stay back,” she groans.

“This is our first time going together, though. I want to go.”

“And I want to kiss you until we both pass out.”

“Oh, how romantic,” you whisper, holding earrings up to your ear. The dangly pearls look best. Some sort of dangerous thought slithers into your mind, and you turn around to face her with a slow smile.

“Oh, Gods. What?”

“If you can go an entire hour without kissing me…”

She looks up at you like you’ve just called her the worst warrior at camp.

“Then we’ll leave as soon as the hours up, and do whatever you want. But if you can’t, then we get to stay until I say so.”

She smirks. The only thing she loves more than you is competition, a challenge. You watch her eyes light up.

“I can do an hour.”

“Oh, really?”

“I have amazing self-control, actually.”

“Oh, really?” you repeat, drawing out the word.

“Really,” she says, rolling her eyes and mocking you.

She’s sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on her palms now, watching you as you step forward.

“Really,” she says again.

But her smile fades as you place your hands on her shoulders, her hands coming to your waist as you place yourself right down on her lap. She lies down and let’s you straddle her, tracing her lips with your pointer finger.

It’s so startlingly silent and tense, she can hear your breath, you can hear hers.

You squeeze her face in your hands. “Well, time to go!” you announce, climbing off of her.

“You’re a demon,” she hisses. “A witch.”

“I’m a daughter of Aphrodite,” you roll your eyes. “I prefer to be called a seductress.”

—-

The party is already buzzing when you get there, night just falling and the fire blazing high.

You wave to a few of your friends, dragging Clarisse by the hand as you lead her to the best group of chairs and benches, not too close and not too far from the fire. All of the camp counselors and the people around your age are there, drinking punch and talking amongst themselves.

You greet your half sister and head counselor of the Aphrodite cabin, Phoebe, with a kiss and a hug.

“You look so pretty, Y/N,” she smiles. “I love the pearls.”

“Thank you,” you gush. You look up to Phoebe more than you would like to admit. One day you hope to take her position, and it wouldn’t hurt to make a good impression now. “You look gorgeous.”

Clarisse’s hand falls from yours and she pushes you forward to the empty seat next to Phoebe.

You look behind you. She gives you a look that says “Are you dumb? Talk to her.”

You’re always so close to Clarisse, but she goes and sits nexts to a few of her siblings on top of a picnic table 5 feet away.

You hum and start talking to Phoebe about a few of the new arrivals about camp- you both agree one of the new boys is a son of Aphrodite, before Phoebe looks past you and cringes.

“One of the other new kids is staring at you.”

You risk a small glance.

There’s nothing special about him. Pale skin, brown hair and brown eyes. He’s not your type, to say the least, especially when you steal a look at Clarisse and find she’s already looking at you-

You stomach flips.

She taps her wrist as if there was a watch there.

“Almost halfway,” she mouths, smiling brightly.

You look pointedly back at Phoebe.

“He’s eh,” you shrug.

“If he doesn’t stop staring at us I’m gonna go insane.”

“Is he really staring?” you ask.

“Yeah. I think he thinks he’s flirting, or something? I don’t know.”

You shrug. He probably knows you’re dating Clarisse, and if he doesn’t, he probably will soon.

She bumps your shoulder.

“Any updates with Clarisse?”

You smile, playing with your fingers.

“No, not really. We’re still happy. Actually, we’re having a contest right now. If she can resist kiss me for an hour, then we’ll leave. But if she can’t, then we get to stay at the party all night.”

“Ooh, that’s evil,” she teases.

“I know, I’m having so much fun.”

You both laugh, and Phoebe opens her mouth just to close it. She fakes dropping something to lean closer to you.

“He’s coming over here.”

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter.

“Hey, ladies,” he says. His voice is deep and scratchy, like he just smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. “How y’all doin’ tonight? Enjoying the party?”

You have to stifle a laugh. Phoebe was one of the cabin leaders who helped organize the party.

“Havin’ fun,” you smile awkwardly. He stares so intensely into your eyes you have to breathe out not to laugh.

“Good, good. Either of you know where the punch station is?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, it’s right by the Apollo cabin,” Phoebe points.

He follows her finger. “Great, thanks.”

He looks at you and winks. “See you around.”

Both you and Phoebe dissolve into a fit of giggles.

—-

You make your way over to Clarisse after a second, sitting down next to her on the table. You hug your knees to your chest from where they sit on the actual bench.

“‘M cold,” you moan, rubbing your knees.

Her siblings, Carrie and Nelson are now distracted by Phoebe’s animated talking, leaving the two of you.

She wraps her arm around your shoulder, letting you lean against her.

“You wore those shorts,” she says.

“For you.”

“Oh, you’re so mean.”

“Before the challenge. And I think you mean ‘thanks for trying to make me happy, Y/N.’”

Clarisse laughs.

“Okay, pretty thing,” she mutters. “That’s what I meant.”

“Right,” you mutter, pushing yourself further against her. It’s better here, closer to the fire, but there’s still this chill in your bones.

“Stop being so close to me,” Clar mutters.

You turn to her.

“What did you just say to me?”

“It’s almost irresistible to kiss you,” she whispers. “I’m not allowed to kiss your forehead, am I?”

You put your face into her warm neck.

“Is that kissing me?” you whisper, your lips brushing her skin.

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pushing you away from her. “You’re not distracting me. I’m not losing this. One hour, then we’re going back to my cabin and staying there for a long time.”

You smile, lifting your face up from her neck to stare in her eyes. She smiles softly back at you.

“Did you see me turn around and bend over to fix my shoes?”

Her eyes blaze.

“Should have guessed that was on purpose. What’d you call yourself? A seductress? I agree.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around yourself, deciding you’ll be nice and give her a few minutes reprieve. Ares kids are always so warm, and even just being pressed slightly against her is nice.

Someone places a jacket over your shoulders. You smile, turning to Clarisse, not remembering if she had a jacket on. Did she bring one for you?

“Clar, I-”

She’s not looking at you at all. She’s staring off towards the fire, holding your hand, and you know she didn’t just give you this jacket.

Harry walks around the table, smiling.

“Looks better on you then it did me,” he says, awkwardly. “You looked cold, so…” he laughs.

Clarisse finally realizes that he’s talking to the two of you, or well, you.

“Huh?” she says, giving him a bored look. Immediately slipping back into her mean girl persona, even though she was just blushing with your face in her neck five seconds ago.

She looks at you at the corner of her eye.

You’re sitting there, frozen with his jacket over your shoulders.

“Uh…” you say, stupidly, because your mind is literally empty. What are you even supposed to do in this situation?

Clarisse grabs at the black jacket.

“She looked cold,” he says.

She finally realizes what happened.

“So, you’re hitting on my girlfriend? Right next to me?”

His smile falls. “Y-your friend, yeah-”

She rips the jacket off of you and throws it at him.

“Girlfriend,” she hisses.

“It’s not my fault,” he says, scrambling to catch his jacket, getting defensive now. He knows he fucked up, his pride is hurt. “You weren’t even touching, and she was, like, shivering-”

She stands up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“Hey, hey, Clarisse,” her sister Carrie says. “What’s going on?”

Clarisse glares at him. He starts sputtering incoherently.

Carrie raises an eyebrow towards you.

“He gave me his jacket,” you mumble, still feeling a little dazed. “Clar, c’mon, let him go.”

Carrie takes a step back. “Oh, ‘kay. I don’t care if she beats him up then,” she laughs.

“It looked like they were friends!” Harry shouts, pushing Clarisse back.

She punches him in the face.

“Clarisse!” you yell, jumping down from the table. “Don’t you dare!” you grab her arm, she’s fuming, rearing to punch him again.

A crowd has formed around you.

Harry groans and holds his bleeding nose.

“You fucking bitch,” he mutters.

“Clarisse. Clarisse, please, let’s go. Let’s just go.”

“You weren’t even that hot anyway,” he hisses.

“Don’t fucking talk about her!” she yells, jumping forward to punch him again-

“Clarisse!” you shout, not wanting her to get in trouble but you’re a second too late. Her fist flies into his cheek, but he’s prepared this time, so he takes it and counters with his own punch.

Your heart squeezes, but she blocks it, and both of their respective siblings finally jump in to hold them back.

“Oh, Gods,” you mumble, staring at his blood on the ground. At least it’s not hers. “Carrie!” you shout, giving her a pleasing look, and she nods.

“C’mon, Clarisse,” she says. “You’re very strong and tough, stop beating up the twig whose got no chance.”

It takes three of her siblings to corner her against the picnic bench.

“Giving her your fucking jacket, I should kill you!” she shouts, thrashing against her siblings hold. “She’s mine, dumbass, we’re always around each other, did you not notice?!”

“Clarisse- stop!” Carrie grunts, putting everything she has into holding her back.

“Go fuck yourself,” he groans, finally having enough common sense to cup his nose and walk away, the groups of people parting for him.

You stand there, shocked. Phoebe comes next to you.

“Oh, I love this night,” she sighs. You shoot her an unimpressed look.

After he’s gone, her siblings let a fighting Clarisse out of their holds, and she scans the crowd, but Harry really has disappeared. Her eyes find yours immediately.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, marching towards you and immediately pressing her lips against yours.

Pride is her fatal flaw. And when her ego is wounded, especially when it comes to you, she feels an inherent need to try and get it back.

She can’t beat up Harry, but showing everyone you’re hers is what you guessed she would do next.

She grabs you by the neck, the other arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you two closer together. You’re touching everywhere, kissing her is like touching her electric spear, and she finally pulls away slowly.

She can’t say that she loves you, so she just kisses your temple instead, wrapping her arm back around your shoulder.

As much as you hate violence, that was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

—-

Clarisse drags you off to her cabin.

“Oh, fuck,” she mumbles, opening the door.

“What?” you whisper, squeezing her hand.

“The contest. We should have stayed-”

You snort. “Who gives a fuck about the contest? I’ve been swayed. Let’s go make out.”

She seems a little shocked, extremely excited, and starts ushering you towards the ladder of the loft.

“Well, who am I to deny you,” she says, holding your ass as you ascend.

“Also, stop punching people.”

“That’s where I deny you.”

You make it to the top, her hands on your waist as she follows you. She’s always touching you, like she’s addicted to you. You pretend, but you’re so in love with her you genuinely think you’re gonna fall over just thinking about her sometimes.

“Clarisse, seriously. You’re gonna get in trouble one day, and-”

She spins you around and throws you back on your bed. You yelp as she climbs on top of you.

“No. Kiss now, lecture later.”

You protest, but she shuts you up by smashing her lips into yours. It’s rough, you did tease her all night, all teeth and the sounds of your roaring heartbeats.

She starts kissing down your neck, your dig your hands into your curls.

“‘She’s mine’?” you say after a second, referencing her anger-haze of a rant.

“Yes,” she says. Softly, but not sheepishly. She says it confident and proud. “You are.”

“I am,” you mutter back, having a feeling she’s gonna leave hickey’s all over you.

You do your best to flip her over, but she’s all muscle and it’s hard, so she ends up grabbing your hips and helping you.

“What?” she gasps, confused at the change of position. Not that she’s complaining, though.

“You did lose the challenge,” you tease.

She doesn’t like to admit she lost.

You hover your lips right above hers.

“Say it.”

Her fingers dig into your hips.

“I lost,” she grits. “You won.”

“I did,” you mumble, lips grazing yours, but you’re getting bored and you want to kiss her just as bad.

And you do, your hands on her face, her fingers starting to slip under your shirt. She mumbles against your lips.

“Fuck, this is so much better than revenge.”

—-

(i’m actually the funniest person alive if you couldn’t tell)

—-

clarisse: oh, so you think i cant take care of my girlfriend? because we’re not close enough? because you think she’s cold? well guess what. now i’m never letting her out of my sight again, fuckfaces

y/n: FUCK YES i mean noooooooo noooooo that’s horrible omggg

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme

@jazhandzzz @urbisexualfriend

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 2)

summary: after your next training session, you join hugh for lunch at his place. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), sensual and initmate smut (unprotected p in v sex - creampie oops, missionary, cowgirl, marking and biting, light dirty talk) no use of y/n. word count: 8.9k (i got carried away lol) a/n: this is part two to training partners. i needed more lol and i told myself that it would only be a two-parter, but i may or may not continue this with more... (let me know if i should write more parts to this story bc i'm having so much fun writing this!) again, i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman and this is purely fictional (all in my delulu mind). prev part. - next part.

It’s been a week since meeting Hugh and it’s still so surreal that you’re frequently talking to him. Or rather, he’s frequently reaching out to you whether it’s through a text message, a phone call, or FaceTime. You realize just how comfortable you are with him, how you can completely be yourself and not worry about what he thinks, because he just makes you feel like who you are as a person is enough. It’s something you haven’t felt before and there’s a part of you that tries to tell yourself that this isn’t going to be serious. You’re just going to have fun. Hugh isn’t going to want something serious, so don’t set yourself up for disappointment. 

But the more you talk to him, the more you find yourself imagining and daydreaming what it would be like to be in a fully committed relationship with him. You know it’s never going to happen, but a girl can dream, right? 

On today’s workout, you decide to wear a faded black oversized t-shirt and black spandex shorts. You put your hair into two braids and slip your shoes on. Within a few minutes, you hear a knock on your door and you bite your lower lip in anticipation. You’re excited, yet nervous, to see Hugh again. Despite the plenty of FaceTime calls over the last week, it’s just a different feeling seeing him in person. Right in front of you. Within arms reach. 

You swing your door open and look up at Hugh who’s smiling in your direction. He’s dressed in black shorts and a black fitted t-shirt that looks like it’s about to tear at the seams around his biceps. It causes you to bite your lower lip, yearning to reach out to just squeeze and–

“Good morning, love,” Hugh says with a chuckle, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Hi, good morning, sorry,” you apologize, looking down at your feet. “You wanna come on in? I’m just grabbing the rest of my things.”

“I’d love to,” Hugh responds. “But can I get a proper greeting?” 

“Oh, so me checking you out isn’t proper?”

Hugh grins. “I’d say it’s far from proper, love.” 

Your eyes narrow and then you step up to him, your arms wrapping around his frame as his long arms wrap around your waist. “Is this proper enough?” you whisper against him.

“Very proper,” he whispers, tightening his hold on you before he pulls away. “We still on for lunch after our workout?” 

You nod, leading him inside of your apartment. “Yeah, but I just realized I’m gonna be all sweaty and in your home and–”

“Pack a change of clothes. You can shower at my place.” 

You shut the door behind him and then walk into your living room with him trailing behind you, trying to bite back the excitement that settles in the pit of your stomach. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Not imposing at all. I want to spend time with you…” Hugh begins. “In a setting that’s just you and me.” 

“Okay, Hugh.” You say, turning around once he takes your wrist to spin you to face him. He brings you to his chest and uses his free hand to rest onto your hip. He looks so incredibly large in your small apartment and you can’t help but feel the butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach. Even though he looks so out of place in your apartment, it feels right having him here. With you. 

“But only if you’re okay with it,” he says, releasing his hold on your wrist to rest it on the other side of your hip. 

Slowly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer to him until your front is flush against his own. “I’m more than okay with it. I just don’t want you to think that I’m… You know…”

“I don’t,” he shakes his head. “What?” 

“That I only want you because you’re famous and you’re rich.”

“Oh, I thought those were the only two reasons.” He teases. “And because I’m old and you like older men.”

You let out a quiet laugh, gently punching his chest and his hands fall from your hips to wrap his arms instead around your waist. He holds you tightly against him and slowly dips down until his lips are mere inches from yours. “Seriously, Hugh.” 

“I know, love. Listen, I like your company. You make me laugh and it’s a while since I’ve felt this way.” Then, he brings a hand up to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, careful not to mess with your braids. “Whatever way you’ll have me, I’m fine with it.” 

“But I’m just me…” you whisper. 

“And you being you is a breath of fresh air. I like it. I like you.” 

You feel the corners of your lips turn upwards, the heat in your cheeks rising once more and you feel like you can lean in to kiss him. But you don’t. Not yet. You still have a workout to get to. 

“The Hugh Jackman likes me?” You feign a shocking expression, looking up into his eyes. 

Hugh lets out a quiet laugh and leans into bury his face against your neck, his stubble brushing against you and causing you to let out an uncontrollable giggle. “Oh, you’re ticklish, are ya?” He smirks against you, lips brushing against your neck as his stubble continues to tickle your skin.

You squirm against him, trying to pull away from him, but he just tightens his grip on you as your laughter fills your entire apartment. “Hugh!” you exclaim in between giggles, pushing against his hard chest. It’s no use though, he’s just so much stronger, so much bigger, and it isn’t until you lose your footing that he falls on his back on your couch with you on top of him that the laughter begins to die down. You pull back enough to look down at him, his hands gripping your hips as you realize that your legs had subconsciously placed themselves on either side of him. 

You’re literally straddling him and he’s staring at you with lust-filled eyes. Your core is pressed firmly against his lower half and you feel his length stir against you, hardening with each passing second. 

“Hugh…”

Your eyes deviate to his lips, watching him bite his lower lip as his fingertips dig into your hips. “Ya think we’d get in trouble if we miss our workout?” he whispers huskily. “Because I think I really like this view and I don’t wanna get up.”

Your cheeks are hot. You’re sure that he can feel the heat between your legs and you’re afraid to move because you’re sure that if you do, you’d lost all ounce of resolve and want to just pounce him because while he likes the view of you being on top of him, you absolutely love the view of him underneath you. 

“We should get up,” you mumble, though you don’t make any movements to stand up. Instead, Hugh wraps his arms around your waist as he sits up and adjusts himself on your couch until he’s sitting back against it. With each of his movements, your hips move against his, letting out a quiet whimper at the friction. 

“You really want to?” he says, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “Maybe we can…”

“Do our own version of cardio?” you tease, obviously breaking the tension as you both erupt into a fit of laughter. You wrap your arms around his shoulders loosely. “What do you say?” 

“As much as I’d love that,” Hugh chuckles. “I’d wanna take my time with you, love.” 

“Hm, then I guess we’ll have to wait.” 

“Guess so,” he says, though begins to lean in closer to you. “But can I…” Hugh begins to ask, eyes dropping to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Kiss you?”

“Such a gentleman, Hugh Jackman,” you tease. “I thought old men like to be in control and–”

“You’re a little brat,” he growls, leaning in to finally press his lips against yours. You gasp immediately, feeling one of his hands move up to cup your cheek. He wastes no time in moving his lips against your own. It’s like your breath is being taken from you with how aggressive Hugh is, nipping and biting at your lower lip. You can’t control the way you’re feeling, the way your legs want to close shut and your core yearning to squeeze around something. You let out a quiet moan and slowly roll your hips against his own, feeling his entire length press against you once more. 

When Hugh groans against your lips, it lights a fire in you. In a fleeting moment, you want to just devour him and drop to your knees in front of him so that you can hear more of his groans and grunts. You lean further into him, gasping as you feel his fingertips touch your skin. His hands move underneath your shirt and with your gasp, he uses this moment to slide his tongue past your lips. 

Suddenly, you pull away, breathing heavily with his hands still underneath your shirt and your hands gripping his. 

“We’re getting carried away,” you whisper, breathlessly. 

“Hm,” he grins, licking his lower lip. “You’re distracting,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes and slowly climb off his lap, missing the feeling of him between your legs. Your eyes dip lower and notice the slight tent in his shorts, watching as he reaches down to readjust himself. 

“I’m gonna–” you clear your throat. “I’m gonna grab my things and then we should go. Or else we’ll never leave.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Hugh grins. “But okay. We should be at the gym soon.” 

As you’re walking away, Hugh stands up and takes your hand once more. He pulls you flush against him, arms wrapping around your waist from behind as he dips down to press gentle and soft kisses along the side of your neck. “I can’t get enough of you,” he murmurs against you. 

Your eyes flutter shut, hands moving to rest over his as you lean back against him. “Hugh, now you’re the one who’s distracting.” 

“Fine, okay,” he chuckles, pulling away from you. “I’m going to wait outside because you’re a bit dangerous right now.”

“Me?!” 

“Yes, you,” Hugh laughs. “Because if I stay in your apartment another minute, I’m gonna end up taking you where you stand, love.” 

You let out a shaky breath and then nod your head, waiting for him to turn on his heel to leave your apartment. Once he does and you hear the door shut, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You bite your lower lip, bringing your fingertips to graze your lips as you think back to the very heated kiss on your couch. Oh, you won’t be looking at that couch the same way again. 

After you grab a change of clothes and put it in your duffle bag, you drape it over your shoulder and grab your phone and keys and leave your apartment. You see Hugh leaning against his car, opening the passenger door for you as he takes the bag from you. 

“Such a gentleman,” you point out. 

Hugh catches you by surprise and leans in to peck your lips. “D’ya like it?” 

“What? You being a gentleman?” 

Hugh nods. 

“I do, but I also like…” you bite your lower lip as you climb into the passenger seat. “I also like it rough.” Without allowing him to respond, you shut the door and smirk to yourself. Hugh is awakening something inside of you, something that you had suppressed for so long and it feels good to finally let loose and be yourself. It’s easy with him. 

You see him then set your bag in the trunk before he shuts it closed and then walks to the driver’s side. He climbs in and looks at you, eyes narrowed as he starts the car and buckles his seatbelt. When Hugh pulls out of your parking lot, he reaches over and rests his hand on your upper thigh, his fingers resting on the inside of your thigh. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, resting a hand over his own.

“Showing dominance,” Hugh winks. 

“Showing dominance?” you laugh quietly. “By putting your hand on my thigh?”

He nods, one hand on the steering wheel as he keeps eyes focused on the road ahead of him. He moves his hand slightly higher. His pinky moves just slightly and you feel it brush against your core, causing a quiet gasp to escape your lips. 

“Hugh!” 

“See? Dominance.” 

“You’re a tease, that’s what you are.”

Hugh then lets out a loud laugh. “Me? The tease? May I remind you what you were doing to me back at your apartment, baby?” 

Love. Baby. All of these terms of endearment are slowly breaking down your resolve. 

“Okay, okay,” you say quietly, biting your lower lip as you feel his pinky move up and down along your core. It causes your eyes to flutter shut, the light touch against you making you yearn for more. You need more. You need him. 

“I don’t know how I’m gonna get through today’s workout,” Hugh begins, stopping at a red light as he turns to look at you. He’s glad his windows are tinted, no one able to tell who he is or what he’s doing right now. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel as he turns his hand to press firmly against your clothed sex, gently using his middle finger to rub circles against your clit. “Because all I’m gonna be thinking about, baby, are the sounds you’re making and how you’re gonna feel wrapped around me.” 

You let out quiet moans as you grip his wrist, trying to push him away but he remains persistent. His touch against you becomes stronger and he pulls away only because the light turns green. Your eyes narrow in his direction and you realize that you’re almost close to the gym. When he pulls into the parking lot and puts the car in park, you reach over the console and move your hand to rest above his crotch. You hear his breath hitch in his throat as Hugh looks in your direction, biting his lower lip.

“What are you doin’?” 

“What you were doing to me,” you whisper, feeling the length of him underneath the palm of your hand. You then bring your fingertip to run across his length, feeling it begin to harden underneath your touch. “I think it’s only fair.”

His hand darts out to grab your wrist and pull it away from him, eyes narrowing as Hugh leans in. His lips are dangerously close to yours and you stare at him with a mischievous look on your face, biting your lower lip. 

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he growls. 

“You promise?” 

Hugh chuckles and leans in to peck your lips. “Oh, it’s a promise.” 

—

After another grueling workout session, you’re already drenched in sweat and making your way to Hugh’s car. While you still pushed yourself past your limits during the session, you couldn’t help but be distracted by him. Every chance he could get, he’d make sure to touch you – whether it’s a soft touch on your lower back, a gentle hand on your shoulder. Hugh wanted more of you and he could tell throughout the session that your eyes lingered on him. It excited him to know just what might happen once you both leave to go to his place. 

“You ready?” Hugh asks, motioning towards the door. You nod and walk in front of him, giving him a good view of your backside and legs and he bites his lower lip, his thoughts going back to the moment you shared on your couch. Once outside in the parking lot, Hugh gently takes your bag from you and sets it in his truck. 

“So,” he hears you say once he climbs into the driver’s side. “What will you be making me?” 

“Something healthy,” Hugh grins. “I am on a strict diet for Wolverine.”

“Okay, I can do healthy. What do you have in mind?” 

“You’re so eager,” he chuckles, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to make his way to his home. “Can’t you just be a good girl and wait and see?”

Good girl. Your eyes narrow at him and bite your lower lip. All of the nicknames he’s been given you this last week: Love. Baby. Brat. Good girl. It shoots straight to your core and you look over at him, moving your hand to rest over his forearm that’s resting against the middle console. Two can play that game, you tell yourself. 

“What if…” you whisper, running your fingertips lightly across his forearm. “What if I don’t want to be a good girl?”

That causes Hugh’s head to turn. He stops the car at a red light, knowing that you’re both only about twenty minutes away from his house. His hand grips the steering wheel as he looks down at you, noticing the look in your eyes. “Oh, you know what you’re doing, don’t you, baby?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to figure out what you’re gonna feed me.”

“Oh, I’ll feed you something, alright,” he smirks, turning his attention back on the road once the light turns green. Hugh moves his hand back to your leg, but he keeps it resting on your thigh. He knows that if he pushes this further, he’d end up pulling over on the side of the road and taking you in this car. 

After twenty minutes, he pulls into his parking garage and notices the look on your face. He can tell that you’re in shock and in awe over his house, and he knows just what you’re about to say so he reaches over to take your hand in his, lifting it to his lips. “Don’t say what you’re about to say, love.” 

“You don’t know what I’m gonna say, Hugh.” 

Hugh chuckles and pressing his lips against your knuckles. “I know you’re gonna make a comment about me being so–”

“Rich,” you finish for him. “You’re rich. I mean, look at your place and–”

Hugh shakes his head and interrupts you by pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was meant to quiet you, but instead, you take the initiative to climb over the console and straddle his lap while he’s seated in the driver’s seat. His hands move to your hips as he moves his lips slowly against your own. 

“Mmm,” you whimper against his lips, rolling your hips slowly. Your hands move to tangle in his hair as you nip and bite at his lower lip. 

Hugh growls against your lips, moving his hands to run up along your thighs and underneath your shirt. God, you make him feel like a teenager all over again because he’s throbbing almost painfully at the way your hips roll against his own. He needs to adjust himself or get some relief because he’s so hard underneath you that he has to pull away from you. 

“Here you are again,” he whispers. “Distracting me,” Hugh continues, pulling his hands away from you to rest gently on your upper thighs. 

“Okay, okay,” you giggle. “Can I shower while you make lunch?” 

“Yeah, let me show you around.” He opens the driver’s side of the door and watches you climb off his lap. Hugh adjusts himself in his shorts and then climbs out after you, walking to the trunk of his car and grabbing both of your bags. 

With his free hand, he takes yours and you can’t help but smile. You turn your hand to lace your fingers with his as he leads you into his home. You look around in awe, the white walls, high ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows make you feel incredibly small, but despite the large space that Hugh has brought you in, it feels very homey. Very comfortable. You can’t help but look around, surrounded by the amazing view of the city and the natural light coming into his home. You then quickly release his hand only to remove your shoes and he smiles at you, leaning against the wall near the stairs

“You didn’t have to take your shoes off.” 

“Are you kidding me? Look at this floor! I don’t want to get it dirty.” 

Hugh laughs and then motions towards the stairs to his left. “I can set your things in the guest bedroom and you can shower there. Or…” he says, biting his lower lip as he takes in your frame, making it very obvious that he’s checking you out. You know where his mind wanders and you stand up to rest your hands on his chest, leaning up on your toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re not gonna show me where the magic happens,” you tease with a quiet giggle. 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he replies. 

“I’m comfortable,” you answer honestly. “With you, it’s easy. I can be myself and that’s saying something.” You don’t want to get too much into detail. This is supposed to just be casual. You don’t need to tell Hugh your life story and how you came to be the way that you are. 

“Oh,” Hugh smiles. His eyes sparkle as he looks into your own and it makes your heart melt. “The feeling is mutual, actually.” He finally says. “Come on. Let’s head up.” 

You follow him up the stairs, but you’re distracted by the amount of pictures and paintings that are hung up along the wall. You want to stop and admire each one, but instead, you keep following him. Once at the top of the stairs, Hugh leads you down the hallway and opens the door. You widen your eyes at the amount of space. It looks so much bigger than your apartment and this is only a bedroom! 

“Jesus,” you whisper under your breath. 

Hugh sets both of your bags down near the bed and watches you with a small smile. You’re walking around his bedroom and he finds that he likes seeing you here. In his home. With him. He watches you walk towards the windows, arms crossing over your chest as he hears you let out a sigh. 

Slowly, Hugh walks towards you and gently wraps his arms around you from behind. He rests his head against you and places a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“What’s got you sighing, love?” he asks quietly. 

“It’s just an amazing view. I always loved seeing the city and it’s just–” you sigh. “It’s beautiful. You can see everything.”

“You should see the view of the sunset,” Hugh smiles against you. “If you want to stay, I can also make us dinner.” 

Slowly, you turn in his arms and look up at him. You feel his hands move to rest on your lower back as he pulls you flush against him. You still can’t believe you’re here with him, with Hugh Jackman. The way he’s made you feel in just a short amount of time of knowing him does scare you, but you can’t help the pull you feel towards him. 

“What’s next, Hugh? Spend the night?” you tease, bringing your hands up his arms to his shoulders, taking your time to feel the muscles underneath your fingertips. 

“Would that be a bad thing?” he says, dipping his head lower to press a light kiss on your lips. 

“I didn’t pack an overnight bag,” you smile. 

“Who says you’re gonna need the clothes?” Hugh winks, moving his hand down to grasp your backside with a firm grip. It causes you to gasp and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against his neck. 

“You’re a tease.” 

Hugh chuckles and pulls away to look down at you. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’d love it if you’d stay. At least for dinner.”

You bite your lower lip and stare up at him. You try to remind yourself that you deserve this, that you deserve something good, that you deserve him. “As long as you’re not tired of me yet, I’d love to stay.” 

“I could never,” he says with a big grin. “Okay, I’ll let you shower. I’m gonna shower in the other bathroom. Come downstairs whenever you’re done.” 

“Thank you, Hugh.” You say seriously, bringing your hand up to his cheek. You feel the stubble against your fingertips as your eyes scan his features. He leans into your touch and slowly turns his head to press a kiss into your palm. 

“It’s my pleasure, baby. I’ll see you in a bit.” Hugh places a kiss on your forehead, pulling away slowly as he looks at you with a broad smile. Then, he walks into his closet and leaves you in the bedroom as you walk over to grab your bag. You then walk inside the bathroom and shut the door behind you. If his bedroom surprised you, his bathroom was a different story. 

This doesn’t feel real. How can someone like you be here with someone like him? You wonder if this is his way of just having fun. Your trainer mentioned he was single and you assumed he was married. You would be lying if you said you never searched him on Google, but the last time you checked, he was a married man for over twenty years. Maybe this was just his way of getting back out there and that this wasn’t going to be anything serious. 

You try to tell yourself to enjoy the ride, even if it may not last long. 

“I deserve this,” you whisper to yourself. “I’m enough.” You continue to say this over and over again, trying to revert the negative thoughts that begin to creep in your mind with the negative self-talk. 

—

After thirty minutes, you step out of his bathroom dressed in casual loungewear. You didn’t know what to bring, so you opted for comfortability. You’re wearing black knit pants with a black crop top. It’s a matching lounge set and when you begin to make your way downstairs, you can hear quiet music playing in the kitchen. You’re walking barefoot, the cold tile of the floor causing your feet to wiggle at the coolness. 

When you round the corner, you see Hugh setting the table in the corner. His windows capture your attention because everywhere you look, it’s a clear view of the city. His hair is slightly damp and he’s also barefoot, dressed in a fitted black t-shirt and gray joggers. He looks so normal like this, so domesticated and unlike the persona he presents to the media. You feel lucky to get even a glimpse of this side of him. 

“Hey,” you call out, seeing him turn around to face you. He grins in your direction, his eyes taking in your frame. 

“Hey,” he replies. “You look comfy.” 

“I am comfy,” you smile, walking towards him. “It smells good.”

“Ah,” Hugh chuckles. “It’s just eggs, toast, and avocado. Strict diet,” he points out again. 

“Well, good thing I like all of those things. Thank you for making me lunch.” You’re about to sit down before Hugh pulls you into his arms. He cups your cheek with one hand while his other wraps his arm around your waist. 

“Thank you for having lunch with me.” Hugh says softly. “I really…” he sighs quietly. “I’m really enjoying the time we’re spending with each other.” 

“Me too, Hugh,” you smile, leaning against his touch. “Come on, let’s eat.” 

Hugh nods and pecks your lips and pulls away slowly. He rests his forehead against yours as he exhales a quiet breath. There’s an unspoken feeling that lingers in the air between the both of you and Hugh can’t deny it. He knows there’s an age gap, knows that his lifestyle might be completely different than what you’re used to, but he knows that he wants more of this. He wants more moments with you. 

“What?” you ask quietly. 

“Nothing, baby. Let’s eat.” Hugh then pulls away to pull out your chair. He watches you take a seat and then he moves to sit next to you, arm draping over the back of your chair. He sees you look up to stare at the view and he smiles to himself, leaning in to kiss your temple. 

Throughout lunch, you feel more and more comfortable. Your legs are curled underneath the chair as you lean against his side, resting your head against his shoulder. You can’t help but notice how much you laugh when you’re with him and how much you love seeing his smile and hearing his laugh. 

He pays close attention to you and it makes you feel seen and heard and unlike anything you’ve felt before. Even though you aren’t in a relationship with Hugh, it makes you daydream and imagine just exactly what it would be like. You know that you can get used to this, spending more and more time with him like this. In his home. In yours. You realize that you want him more permanently in your life, in whatever way that may be. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, looking up at him after you both finish eating. “What was your first impression of me?” 

Hugh arches a brow. “Honestly?” 

“Yeah, honestly.” 

Hugh turns to face you and tilts his head to the side. “Well, for one, you were on all fours so I couldn’t help but take a peek.” 

You feign a gasp and gently push against his chest. “Naughty, Hugh!” 

Hugh chuckles and shakes his head. “But I liked your honesty. I liked that you were just… You. Genuinely you. You don’t see that very often, especially not around me.”

“Oh, right. Big celebrity and all,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully. 

Hugh smiles. “Seriously. Some people just get close to you because they want something out of it. It’s hard to tell if someone is being genuine or not, but with you…” he says, beginning to trail off with a shake of his head. “I know we joke around a lot, calling me the Hugh Jackman, how famous I am, but I just feel like you see me for me. Not as the Hugh Jackman,” he chuckles. “Your honesty was refreshing. It’s like I mentioned before. You’re a breath of fresh air, baby.” 

You bite your lower lip as you listen to him talk. You feel your stomach do flips and you lean in to press a soft kiss on his lips. His hand drops to your hip as he rubs circles against you, feeling your skin against the pad of his thumb as your shirt rides up when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

“I feel comfortable around you,” you reply. “Like I can truly be myself and I haven’t had that in a very long time. I feel like I’m becoming myself again.” 

Hugh smiles, slowly pulling you onto his lap. You lean back against the table as your arms remain loosely around his shoulders as his hands rest on your hips. 

“Did something–” Hugh begins. “Happen? I remember our trainer mentioning something about negative self-talk last week…” 

You bite your lower lip. You weren’t planning on ever telling him your past relationship because you didn’t feel like you needed to. This wasn’t going to be serious… Right? 

“I just got out of a three year relationship a few months ago. I gave a lot of myself into that relationship and never got anything in return. I just–” you sigh, looking away from him. “It’s embarrassing. I just let myself go.”

Hugh sighs and hooks a finger under your chin to get you to look at him. His eyes search yours, staring deeply into you. “It’s not embarrassing. It just shows that you have a lot of love to give and he took that for granted.” 

Your eyes soften as you look at him. You never did think of it that way and you didn’t realize just how much you needed to hear that. There’s a silence that engulfs the both of you and you feel tears sting the corners of your eyes, pent up emotions threatening to spill out. 

“Oh,” he whispers, his own eyes widening slightly. “I didn’t– Baby, are you okay?” Hugh says softly, gently cupping your cheek. 

You don’t respond. Instead, you just lean in to press your lips firmly against his warm and soft lips. You feel the warmth bloom in your chest, butterflies in the pit of your stomach, and for once in a very long time, you feel whole. Not because of Hugh, but because of the words he said. 

He was right.

You did have a lot of love to give. 

“Mm, wait, wait,” Hugh says, pulling away to look at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes,” you say, almost breathlessly. “Take me to your room?” 

His eyes slightly widen, brows raising. “Oh.” Hugh says. “Oh. Yeah, come on.” He stands from his chair and takes your hand in his, helping you to stand from your own seat. You take his hand eagerly, using your free hand to hold onto his forearm as well as you allow him to lead you back up the stairs and into his room. 

You can feel the thrumming in your chest, the anticipation looming in the pit of your stomach, and you’re certainly aware of the throbbing you feel in between your legs. Hugh brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your hand before he leads you down the hall and into his room. Once inside, he shuts the door behind him and turns around to face you. 

You can see the look in his eyes. It’s filled with lust and desire, turning to a darker shade. The backs of your legs touch his mattress and he walks towards you, arms reaching out to rest on your hips as he leans down to capture your lips softly. 

“Been thinking about this, about you,” he whispers against your lips. “I don’t normally do this,” Hugh begins, pulling away to look into your eyes. 

“Do what? Have casual sex?” you tease, moving your hands up his arms and giving his biceps a gentle squeeze. 

“I wouldn’t call this casual,” Hugh points out. “At least I don’t want it to be,” he admits. “Is that okay?” 

“You know, this is a conversation people usually have after having sex.” You smile, hands moving further up his biceps to his shoulders and to the nape of his neck where you tangle your fingers in his dark hair. “But I also don’t want this to be casual either…” you whisper quietly. “And I also don’t normally do this too.” 

Hugh smiles. You can see his eyes sparkle with excitement as he snakes his arms around your frame. “We’re just stepping out of our comfort zones, aren’t we?” 

“Nothing wrong with that,” you reply, slowly sitting on the bed and pulling him on top of you. He uses one hand to rest above your head while the other remains around your waist and gently moves the both of you in the middle of the bed. It’s so large and you’re sure that it has to be an extra large king sized bed or something, because even he looks small on it. 

Slowly, Hugh moves to settle himself between your legs and smiles to himself when he looks down to see you wrap your legs around his waist. He places both of hands at either side of your head to keep himself propped up as he looks down at you, hair splayed against his white sheets, staring up at him with doe-like eyes, twinkling against the natural light that comes through his large windows. 

He says your name quietly, leaning down slowly as his lips hover against yours. “I fear if we do this, there’s no going back.” 

You nod in agreement and move your hands from the nape of his neck to cup his cheeks. “I’m okay with it. Are you?” 

Hugh nods, turning his head to kiss the inside of your palm again. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m okay with it,” he repeats. 

“Good because I’ve been wanting you since this morning and I think I’ve been a real good girl waiting so patiently for this,” you tease with a grin. 

“A good girl, huh?” Hugh grins, his eyes darkening once more. “I wonder what good girls get.” 

“A reward. Good girls get a reward.”

“Yeah, they do,” Hugh then leans in to press his lips against yours. He wastes no time in moving his lips, hands dropping to your hips. Hugh can’t help the feeling that weighs on his chest and the flutters in the pit of his stomach. He was open to dating and getting back out there after his divorce, but he didn’t think that it would happen anytime soon. He enjoys your company, enjoys the fact that you make him laugh, enjoys the way you look at him and the way you make him feel. 

You move your hands to his hair, tangling your fingers in his dark locks as he deepens the kiss even further. You part your lips, letting out a quiet gasp when you feel his tongue slide into your mouth. You buck your hips against him, feeling him press himself firmly against your core. He grunts against your lips and it reverberates in his chest, causing it to come out as a quiet growl.

Hugh moves his hands underneath your shirt, letting his hands move upwards along your sides until he realizes that you weren’t wearing a bra. He feels the center of his sweatpants get increasingly tighter and uncomfortable the more he kisses you paired with the movements of your hips. 

“You’re tellin’ me,” he mumbles, pulling back slightly to nip at your lower lip and move his lips along your jawline. “That the entire time we were eating and laughing downstairs that you weren’t wearing a bra?” Hugh’s large hands come up to cover both of your breasts underneath your shirt as he pushes his hips into you. He drags his tongue along the side of your neck, your moans and whimpers directly in his ear. 

“I told you I was comfy,” you moan, feeling the pads of his thumbs brush against your nipples. “Hugh…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the sensations of his hands, his lips, and his hardened length pressing against you becomes too much. It’s everything all at once and you try to tell yourself to take your time, to let him set the pace, but you just want to roll him over on his back and ride him like your entire life depended on it. 

“I know, baby,” he whispers, gently biting down the side of your neck and sucking on it afterwards. Hugh pulls back to look at the mark slowly appearing and he grins to himself. He isn’t usually the type of person to leave any marks, but for some reason, it excites him to know that you’ll be walking around the next few days with a reminder of today. And it’s all because of him. 

Hugh leans back on his knees and grabs the ends of your shirt to lift over your head. You raise your arms above to allow him to remove your shirt and once he does, he tosses it carelessly over his shoulder as he sees your chest fully exposed for him. 

“Fuck,” he groans. Like a man possessed, Hugh leans down and grasps your breasts in both hands. He growls to himself and leans down to wrap his lips around one nipple, feeling it harden between his lips as he sucks. He uses his other hand to caress your unattended breast and you immediately arch your back in the air, pushing your breasts further into his face. 

“Hugh,” you moan, biting your lower lip as you feel the wetness begin to build between your legs. You need some friction, you need some pressure because you’re throbbing and squeezing around nothing yet you can feel his hardened manhood right where you need him. “I need to feel you, please…” 

Hugh looks up at you and then turns his attention to the other breast, gently nipping so that he can pay equal attention to them. A few moments pass before he pulls back to lift his own shirt over his head. 

You let out a quiet gasp, looking up at him. You’ve seen pictures of him and you know that his physique isn’t something that he hides, but seeing it up close, within arms reach, it does something to you. You reach out and run your fingertips along his abdomen to his chest and back down. A blush appears along your neck and up to your cheeks as you gently tug on the waistband of his sweatpants.

“God, you are beautiful,” you blurt out. You stare into his eyes and you both let out a quiet chuckle. 

“Me?” he says, taking your hands and kissing your knuckles before he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants. Slowly, Hugh pulls your pants and your panties off your body, once more tossing the clothing across the room. You’re lying back, completely naked and exposed for him. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he finally says. Normally, you’d be very self-conscious about how you look, especially naked in front of Hugh Jackman, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel comfortable and confident. He’s truly looking at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen before. 

Then, Hugh drags his hand down the front of your chest, down to your abdomen, until it hovers between your legs. He gently parts your legs even further, giving him a clear view of your folds that glisten against the natural light. Hugh then lets his index finger run across your slit, groaning to himself when he feels your wetness coat him. He looks up at you briefly, seeing your eyes fall shut as your hands reach out to grasp the sheets. 

He smirks proudly to himself and leans over you, peppering kisses along your neck and chest and back up as he slowly slides his finger past your folds and into your hole. Hugh groans against you, feeling just how tight you feel around one finger and it excites him to know just how good it’d feel when he finally pushes his cock into you. To relieve some pressure, he uses his free hand to push down his pants and boxers, letting out a groan of relief as his cock finally springs free from its confines. 

You don’t open your eyes though, still too focused on the way his finger slowly moves in and out of your depths. You’re so wet, so warm, so tight that Hugh tries to take it slow. He then adds another finger, watching as your eyes slightly open at the second intrusion. You feel your walls stretch at his second finger and you finally look down, eyes widening even further at the sight of his length. He’s red at the tip, leaking, and throbbing. It makes your mouth water at the sight because all you want to do is drop down onto your knees and take him into your mouth. Maybe next time, you tell yourself. 

His fingers begin to move at a faster pace, the sounds of squelching echoing throughout his large bedroom. Hugh rests his forehead against yours, turning his hand so that he can rub your clit with the pad of his thumb. He knows you’re close, knows that your body is going to give way to him. He can feel you begin to tremble and he smiles. 

“You’re so wet,” he whispers against your lips. “I can feel you’re close, baby. Don’t hold back. Let go for me.” His voice is much deeper and you can’t help but nod in his direction, your arms reaching out to wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your back arches in the air. 

“Hugh!” His name escapes your lips with a loud moan, feeling your body shake as you try to ride out your climax. He doesn’t let up though, still continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a quick pace. He watches you, watches as you shut your eyes tight, mouth slightly agape, back arched as you tighten around his fingers – it’s something that Hugh will forever remember. He can feel your walls throbbing and he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, looking down at your slickness and slowly bringing it to his lips. Then, he sucks. 

Your eyes open to watch him. He’s staring at you as he licks his fingers clean of your release and it’s so dirty, so hot, that you grab his shoulders and push him onto his back. He kicks off his pants and boxers as his cock rests against his lower abdomen, throbbing painfully and impatiently. 

“You taste fuckin’ good, baby.” Hugh smirks. “Can’t wait to eat you up later.” 

You bite your lower lip and slowly straddle his lap as your eyes move across his face and down to the rest of his body. He’s so chiseled, so muscular. Your eyes deviate further down, seeing the patch of hair between his legs and then his cock. You bring your hand to your mouth and quietly spit into the pit of your palm before reaching down to slowly wrap your hand around his base, feeling the weight and warmth of it in your hand. Then, you tighten your grip and begin to pump your hand up and down. His eyes flutter at the sensation, continuous groans escaping his lips. 

He says your name in a quiet moan as you continue to move your hand along his base. Your movements begin to speed up before Hugh’s hand darts out to grab your wrist, making you cease movements altogether. 

“You keep that up and I’m not gonna last long,” Hugh admits. 

You narrow your eyes and use your thumb to run across the tip of his cock, his precum spreading over it as you hear him let out another moan. You smile to yourself and bring your thumb to your mouth, seeing it slick with his precum before you lean in and suck, your tongue darting out to wipe it from your thumb.

“Mm, you taste good too. I also can’t wait to get down on my knees and just devour you, Hugh.” That earns you a growl as he gently lifts you so that he can grab his cock in his hand to line his tip between your folds. 

“You’re naughty,” he smirks. “I like it.” Hugh moves his free hand to your hip and slowly lowers you down onto him. The tip of his cock enters you and he tries so hard not to just ram up into you because he wants more, needs more. He feels your hands rest on his chest and he flexes subconsciously as you slowly begin to lower yourself further onto his cock. Inch by inch, you feel an almost painful stretch of his cock because you know that you’re tight and you know for sure that you haven’t had anyone as big as Hugh. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, moving his hands onto your hips as you continue to lower yourself onto him until he fills you to the hilt. You’re so tight and warm and wet around him that Hugh just knows he isn’t going to last long. 

You take a moment to get used to his girth and his length. In this position, you feel him so deep within your depths. You’re so full of him and you find that you can just stay here for the rest of your days. Hugh’s eyes begin to flutter shut as you roll your hips forwards and backwards, your hands still resting on his chest. The hair at his base provides the perfect friction against your clit and you feel the tightness in the pit of your stomach begin to grow more and more prominent. 

“Hugh, oh god,” you moan aloud, continuing your movements before you begin to bounce along his length. 

Hugh growls, hands gripping your hips as his fingertips dig into your skin. He knows that’s going to leave a mark later, but he can’t help the sensation. Your walls are gripping him in a tight vice as you move along him, your walls sliding along his cock. 

“You feel amazing,” he begins, lifting his hips slowly to meet yours. Hugh groans, holding you up just slightly to give himself room to begin to thrust upwards into you. Hugh’s thrusts quicken as he watches your breasts bounce with each movement. You toss your head back as you reach back to rest your hands on his thighs and Hugh’s gaze drops down as he watches himself move in and out of your depths. He can see his cock is slick with your wetness, allowing for him to move easily within your folds. 

“Oh god, oh god,” you moan, beginning to lose your resolve. You lean forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, your chest flushed against his, face buried against the side of his neck as Hugh’s thrusts become more erratic, more rough and the sound of skin slapping against one another echoes loudly through his room. 

“Come for me, love,” he whispers into your ear. “I know you can gimme another.” 

It was all you needed to slam yourself down onto him, shaking against him as your walls tighten even further around him. Hugh has to stop himself from thrusting because he knows that if he were to continue, he’d lose it too and he wants to be on top when he does. 

You’re both breathing heavily when Hugh slowly rolls you onto your back. He leans down to peck your lips lightly, hands moving to brush your hair away from your face. Then, Hugh moves his hips against you. He pulls back to his tip before he slams himself back into you. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he whispers, seeing as your eyes begin to flutter shut. You’re already so sensitive and you don’t know if you can last any longer, but staring deeply into Hugh’s eyes as his thrusts continue forces you to hold out. You know that if you reach another orgasm that you’d be spent for the rest of the day and you’re sure Hugh knows it too. 

“Hugh,” you moan, legs wrapped loosely around his hips as he continues to thrust into you. “You feel…” your arms wrap around his shoulders as nails dig into his skin. “You feel so good.”

Hugh smirks at that and gently kisses the tip of your nose as hands drop to your hips to hold you steady against the bed. “You feel so good too, baby.” Then, Hugh feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach and he knows he’s close. His thrusts become more sloppy and his mouth is slightly agape as both of your moans mix in with one another. 

“I’m close,” he mumbles. “Where–” 

“Inside,” you reassure him. “On the pill.” 

“Are you– Fuck,” Hugh growls. “Are you sure?” 

“Come in me, Hugh.” You answer, letting out a loud moan as his thrusts continue to get more rough. He reaches down and rubs his thumb against your clit. Suddenly, you’re so very aware that you’re about to reach yet another orgasm and Hugh’s eyes stare into yours. This is your first time having sex with him and yet, it seems like he already knows so much about what gets you there. 

“Oh, Hugh… Hugh!” you exclaim, back arching as your eyes shut and your walls tighten once more around his length. 

Hugh groans and thrusts once more before he releases himself inside of you. He buries his face against the side of your neck, lazily nipping at your skin as you throb around him. Hugh then looks up at you and smiles, seeing you return one of your own. 

“I’m spent,” you chuckle. 

Hugh lets out a quiet laugh and pecks your lips lightly. “Three times, huh?” 

“Three times. That’s a first.” 

Hugh grins proudly. “That was amazing, love.” Slowly, he pulls out of you and you both let out a quiet whimper. When he pulls out of you completely, you suddenly feel less whole, less filled. He lies back next to you and pulls you into his arms, noticing the mark along your neck and the marks of his fingertips on your hips. 

“I think I made a few marks and bruises,” Hugh says. 

You arch a brow and then slowly begin to smile. You point to his shoulders and his back as you lean up to peck his lips. “I think I did too.” 

Hugh lets out a quiet laugh and shuts his eyes, feeling you snuggle further into his side. He can get used to this. He feels like you belong here with him. 

“So,” he begins. “Stay the night?” 

You look up at him and smile, leaning up on your elbow to kiss his chin. You see his eyes open to look down at you, staring at you with soft eyes. “Oh, after that? I’m definitely staying the night.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1 - @wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf - @needz1nk

[stylesispunk]

"Did the love affair maim you too"? Part iii

Joel Miller x f!reader

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Summary: Joel is trying to recover and understand his feelings for you, or It took him almost to lose you to know how important you are to him.

word count: 14k (this is what I call, the filling chapter)

warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, injuries, and mentions of death, more angst. (haha) f

a/n: Hello! Part 3 is here! Once again, I want to thank everyone who had read this story, so much love for you. I don't feel so proud about this one, this chapter is more like a filling one, the one stuck in the middle, the important things that will happen here were going to happen but not in the same way because I wrote it in a rush and after being sad because of a man. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The storm kept raging outside, with fury, while these four walls you were in were protecting you from the haunting memories on your mind.

Your heart was beating hard against your ribs; you could feel the air abandoning your lungs, and your head was spinning all over the place, trying to focus your racing thoughts on another thing but Joel.

The Joel who was standing in your living room.

The Joel who remembered your fear of storms

The Joel who had come to your house to protect you from your demons.

The Joel who was now looking at you with a glimpse of hope in his eyes, patiently waiting for you to utter a word.

“You said you would never wear that t-shirt again,” you said bitterly, your voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t quite sadness either. It was a fine line between a lingering sense of loss and longing for him.

A feeling you couldn’t let go.

Joel’s gaze flicked down to the shirt he was wearing, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I did, didn’t I?” he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I said a lot of things that morning.”

You remembered that morning all too well. It was the day everything changed—the day Joel had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded in a world gone mad. But then he got his memories back, and the man who had loved you was gone, replaced by the same cold, distant Joel who had once barely tolerated your presence.

“I said a lot of things too,” you replied, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “But none of it matters now, does it?”

Joel flinched at the bitterness in your tone, his hand rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit you had come to recognize. “It matters,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find something in the depths of your gaze. “I just… I don’t remember everything, but I remember you. I remember enough to know that I don’t want to lose you.”

The air in your lungs got stuck. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that the man who had once loved you was still in there somewhere, fighting to break free. But the wounds of his departure were still too fresh, too raw.

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the howling wind. “You don’t just get to pick up where we left off, Joel. You can’t just—”

“I know,” he cut in, his voice firm but not unkind. He took a step closer, his boots scruffing against the worn floorboards. “I know it’s not that simple. But I’m here now, and I’m not leaving. Not again. Not unless you tell me to.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. The walls around you felt like they were closing in, the memories of what you had lost pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t bear. You had built up defenses and kept people at arm’s length because losing them hurt too much. But here was Joel, standing before you, offering a glimmer of something you thought was lost forever.

“What do you want, Joel?” You said, your voice almost breaking.

Joel hesitated, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to find the right words, the ones that would make both of you go back in time to that night when you shared your “I love you” for the first time, even though you both knew it wasn't that simple. The storm outside roared on, shaking the walls, but it was the storm inside that threatened to tear you apart.

“I want…” He trailed off, running a hand through his damp hair, his brow furrowed in thought. “I want to make things right. I know I messed up; I know I hurt you—hell, I hurt myself too. But I can’t keep pretending like you don’t matter, like this—” he gestured between the two of you, “—doesn’t matter.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it harder to keep the walls up, but you couldn't just let him back in, not after everything. “You can’t just say that and expect it to fix things,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t remember, Joel. You don’t remember what we had.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t remember everything, and I don’t know if I ever will. But I remember enough to know that losing you would be the worst mistake of my life.”

You swallowed hard, the emotions welling up inside you, threatening to spill over.

“I-I- When you’re close to me, I feel like I can’t breathe.” He said emotions made his voice tremble. “All that pain I get from the migraines stops the second you’re a closer, and I didn’t know why, but my body somehow felt it. It’s like something inside my chest is aching for you.”

Joel's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his confession. The raw vulnerability in his voice was something you hadn't heard in him before, something that cut through the layers of hurt and anger you'd built up around yourself. The storm outside seemed to intensify as if echoing the turmoil within you, but all you could focus on was the man standing before you, baring his soul in a way that left you breathless.

Your heart raced as you tried to process what he was saying, the truth of his words settling deep into your bones. The walls you had put up to protect yourself, to keep him at a distance, were crumbling, and the emotions you had tried so hard to keep buried were bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t know what this is,” he continued, his voice trembling as he struggled to find the right words. “But I can’t ignore it. I’ve tried; God knows I’ve tried, but I can’t. Every time I’m near you, it’s like something inside me is telling me that I need you, that I can’t lose you again.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you bit your lip, trying to keep them at bay. You wanted to stay strong, to keep the walls up, but Joel’s words were breaking through every defense you had. His pain, his confusion, mirrored your own, and the connection between you was undeniable, even if it was tangled up in the mess of lost memories and shattered trust.

“I’m scared, Joel,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to say it out loud, to acknowledge the fear that had been gnawing at you ever since he had walked back into your life. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of losing you all over again.”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’m scared too,” he confessed, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down your cheek. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Joel continued, his voice thick with emotion. “After today, I went to my house, and I remembered kissing you. I remember your face everywhere, and it felt like my own heart feared my feelings because I know I did things wrong with you, and I don’t want this.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” you asked, feeling the tears in the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t want to love you,” he confessed.

Joel's confession hung in the air like a heavy weight, pressing down on both of you. His words were raw, laced with a vulnerability that was almost painful to witness. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally breaking free.

For a moment, you were stunned into silence, the admission cutting through you like a knife. The honesty in his voice, the fear that laced his words—it was all too much, too overwhelming.

I don’t want to love you felt like an insult being thrown at you.

You had allowed him to get closer and touch you just to be hurt by his words again.

You took a step back, pulling away from his touch as the hurt washed over you in waves. “Why would you say that?” You choked out, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. "Why did you come here to say that to me?”

Joel’s face crumpled, regret and anguish etched into his features as he saw the effect his words had on you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. But I’m scared, and I don’t know how to handle this.”

The room felt stifling, the walls closing in as the weight of his confession settled between you. You had allowed yourself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could have something good in this broken world. But now, that hope felt like it was slipping through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but the cold, harsh reality of what was happening.

“I let you in,” you whispered, the tears streaming down your face. “I let you get close, and now you’re telling me you don’t want it? That you don’t want me?”

“No,” Joel said quickly, shaking his head as he reached for you, but you took another step back, keeping the distance between you. “That’s not what I’m saying. I do want you—I want you more than anything. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what it means and of what I could lose. I’ve lost so much already, and I don’t know if I can take losing you too.”

His words tugged at your heart, but the hurt was still too fresh, too raw. “You’re hurting me right now, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling. “By telling me you don’t want to love me, you’re hurting me more.”

Joel's face twisted in anguish as he heard your words, the pain in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He took a shaky breath, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and desperation.

“I don’t know how to deal with this,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. It’s all so damn confusing, and I’m scared—scared of what loving you means, scared of what it could cost me, scared of how much I want you.”

His confession hung in the air, thick with the weight of emotions neither of you had been prepared to confront. The vulnerability in his eyes was something you had rarely seen in him, and it shook you to your core.

“I’ve spent so long keeping everyone at arm’s length,” Joel continued, his voice cracking under the strain of his emotions. “It was easier that way, safer. But you got under my skin. You made me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. And now, I don’t know what to do with all of it.”

You wanted to be angry, to lash out at him for pulling you in just to push you away, but the pain in his eyes was so real, so raw, that your anger melted away, leaving only a deep, aching sadness in its place.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The truth was, you were terrified—terrified of the feelings that were still so raw, so unresolved. Terrified of the possibility of opening yourself up again, only to be hurt even more deeply.

“I would rather lose you now than do it later,” you whispered, finally meeting his eyes. “The world we live in, the losses we’ve faced—it’s too much. And I don’t know if I can survive losing someone else again.”

Joel’s face tightened, his jaw clenching as he absorbed your words. The pain etched into his features was almost unbearable to see, a reflection of the turmoil that had been brewing between you both for so long.

“I get it,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “I’ve lost more than I ever thought I could bear too. But walking away now, pushing me out—that won’t make it hurt any less if something happens. It just means we never had a chance to try.”

You shook your head, the tears welling up in your eyes. “But what if trying just makes it worse? What if we end up hating each other even more because of it?”

Joel took a small step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “But I’d rather take that risk with you than walk away and always wonder what we could’ve had. Because whether you see it or not, you’ve already gotten under my skin. I don’t want to let you go, not when I feel like I’m just starting to remember why I care.”

Your breath hitched, his words pulling at the fragile strings of your heart. The honesty in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice—it was everything you had feared and longed for all at once.

“But what if it falls apart?” You whispered, the uncertainty trembling in your voice.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Joel said, his voice steady.

The storm outside continued to rage, the wind howling against the walls of the house, but inside, a fragile understanding was beginning to form. It wasn’t a solution; it wasn’t a cure for the pain you both carried, but it was a step—a small, tentative step towards something more.

“You treated me so badly,” you sobbed, shaking your head.

Joel's expression softened, the weight of your words pressing down on him. He knew you were right—he had treated you badly, even before everything had changed. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the mistakes he had made.

"I know," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I know I did, and I'm so damn sorry for that. I was... I was lost, and I took it out on you. I pushed you away because I was scared—scared of letting someone in, scared of getting close. But that doesn't excuse what I did. You didn’t deserve any of it."

“But you did it anyway,” you choked out, your voice breaking with the weight of your emotions. “You hurt me, Joel. You made me feel like I was nothing, like I didn’t matter.”

His hand trembled as he reached out to you, his fingers brushing against your arm in a hesitant, almost pleading gesture. “You matter more to me than you know,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I see that now, and I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I don’t know how to make up for what I did, but I want to try. I want to be better, for you and for me.”

“I didn’t choose to fall in love with you, Joel,” you shot, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. “But here we are, and it’s tearing me apart!”

The room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of your argument, the storm outside a reflection of the storm within. Neither of you wanted to back down; both were too hurt and confused to see a way forward.

“Why are you so afraid of letting me in now?” Joel asked, his voice softer but still filled with desperation. “What’s changed? What’s different to the last time?”

You hesitated, the truth clawing at your throat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. I couldn’t admit that you were terrified of losing him again, of opening yourself up only to have it all ripped away.

“What’s changed?” Joel pressed, “Tell me.”

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, the weight of everything you had been holding back finally broke through. “I’m afraid, Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m afraid that if I let myself love you again, it’s going to destroy me. And I don’t know if I can survive that. I can’t lose someone for a third time.”

Joel’s expression softened, his frustration giving way to something deeper, a sadness that mirrored your own. He reached out as if to touch you but hesitated, his hand hovering between you as if uncertain of its place.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, the weight of his own fears etched in every word. “But I’m scared too, scared of what happens if we don’t try. I know I screwed up, and I know I can’t take back what I did, but losing you without even trying? I don’t think I can live with that.”

His voice was raw, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t heard before. The storm outside seemed to still for a moment, the wind’s howl dying down as the two of you stood there, the silence between you filled with the unspoken pain and longing that had been building for weeks.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right away,” Joel continued, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I’m not asking you to forget what happened. But I am asking for a chance—a chance to prove that I’m not going to walk away again, that I’m not going to forget what you mean to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked at him. His words touched something deep inside you, a part of you that still longed for the connection you’d once shared, despite everything that had happened.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Joel,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can survive losing you a second time.”

He took a step closer, finally closing the distance between you, his hand finding yours in a tentative, gentle touch. “I’m not going to put pressure on you, okay?” he assured you. “For now, let me stay here so you don’t have to be afraid of the storm alone, okay?”

You hesitated, your emotions a tangled mess of fear, longing, and uncertainty. The storm outside was relentless, the wind howling and rain lashing against the windows, mirroring the turmoil inside you. But there was something in Joel’s voice, in the gentle way he held your hand, that made you want to believe him.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, nodding slightly. “You can stay.”

Joel’s expression softened with relief, and he gently squeezed your hand, as if to reassure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened still hanging heavy in the air. But for now, in this small, fragile moment, there was a sense of peace between you.

Joel glanced around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings before his gaze returned to you. “Where do you want me to set up?” he asked, his voice gentle, as if he didn’t want to disrupt the delicate balance of the moment.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “You can stay in the living room,” you said, gesturing toward the couch. “I’ll get some blankets for you.”

He nodded, watching as you moved to gather what he’d need. As you handed him the blankets, your fingers brushed against his, and you felt a warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill in the air.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Joel asked, his concern evident as he unfolded the blankets.

You managed a small, faint smile. “I’ll be fine,” you said, though the truth was, you weren’t entirely sure. But for now, having him close, knowing you weren’t alone in the storm, brought a small measure of comfort.

Joel settled onto the couch, arranging the blankets around him. As you turned to head back to your room, you paused, glancing back at him. He was watching you, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and something else, something deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the storm.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

Joel made his way through the snow-dusted streets of Jackson, his breath puffing out in clouds as he walked toward Lori's house. The early morning light cast long shadows, the town still quiet except for the distant sound of someone chopping wood. The air was crisp, biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the unease twisting in his gut.

He reached Lori’s door and knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness. After a moment, the door creaked open, and Lori stood there, wrapped in a thick sweater, her hair tousled from sleep.

“Joel?” she asked, surprise flickering across her face. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I needed to talk to you,” Joel said, his tone serious. He stepped inside when she gestured him in, the warmth of the house enveloping him.

Lori led him to the small living area, where a fire crackled in the hearth. She sat down on the worn couch, motioning for him to join her, but Joel remained standing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“What’s going on?” Lori asked, concern creeping into her voice as she noticed his tension.

Joel took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Lori, I need to be honest with you,” he began, his voice steady but laced with regret. “What we’ve been doing—it was never meant to be serious, and I think we both knew that.”

Lori’s expression shifted slightly, her eyes narrowing as she searched his face. “Yeah, I know. We were just having fun, keeping things casual. But why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

Joel nodded, appreciating her straightforwardness. “There is,” he admitted. “I’ve been figuring some things out, and I’ve realized that I can’t keep doing this. I’ve got someone else in my life, someone who means more to me than I even realized until recently. I need to focus on that, on her.”

Lori’s shoulders slumped slightly, and she let out a small, resigned sigh. “You’re talking about her, aren’t you? The nurse?”

Joel nodded, unable to meet her eyes for a moment. “Yeah. I need to make things right with her.”

Lori’s demeanor shifted noticeably, her smile fading into a tight, bitter expression. “So, you’re just going to walk away? After everything?”

Joel winced at the edge in her voice, sensing that this wasn’t going to go as smoothly as he had hoped. “I’m not walking away from you out of spite. I just need to make a choice, and right now, my focus has to be on fixing what I’ve broken.”

Lori crossed her arms, her eyes flashing with anger. “So, what? You think you can just come here, say a few words, and everything will be okay? You think you can just turn your back on me and expect me to be fine with it?”

Joel took a step closer, trying to keep his tone calm. “Lori, this isn’t about making you okay with it. This is about me trying to do what’s right. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear.”

Her anger flared. “Right? What’s right? You think it’s right to just discard people like they don’t matter? You think you can just decide to play at relationships and then bail when it suits you?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Joel said, his voice heavy with regret. “But I can’t keep pretending this isn’t what it is. I need to focus on the person who really matters to me.”

Lori’s face was flushed with emotion, her voice rising. “You know what, Joel? Maybe you should have thought about that before you got involved with me. Maybe you should have been honest from the start instead of playing games.”

Joel looked away, feeling the weight of her words. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I can’t change what’s happened. I can only try to make things right moving forward.”

Lori’s eyes were filled with frustration and hurt. “Yeah, well, it’s a little too late for that now. You should go.”

Joel nodded, feeling the sting of her words. “I understand. I’m sorry for everything.”

As Joel made his way back through Jackson, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in his chest. Ending things with Lori had been the right thing to do, but it also felt like one more piece of his life was falling apart. And now, all he could think about was the fragile connection he was trying to rebuild with you.

But Lori wouldn’t let things go so easily. Hurt and angry, she wasn’t ready to accept that Joel could just walk away from her.

You found yourself slipping back into old habits, avoiding Joel at every turn, retreating into your own space whenever he was near. The fragile connection you had started to rebuild felt too delicate, too vulnerable, and the fear of what it might mean was overwhelming. So, you did what you had always done when things got too close: you pushed him away.

You threw yourself into your work, taking extra shifts on the infirmary, volunteering for the more dangerous runs that others were hesitant to take. Anything to keep your mind occupied and your heart locked away. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the memory of Joel’s confession lingered, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

Every time you crossed paths with Joel, you made sure to keep the interaction as brief as possible. A curt nod, a mumbled greeting, and then you were gone before he could say anything more. You avoided the places you knew he frequented, taking different routes and making excuses to stay away from the common areas where you might run into him. You even started leaving for your shifts earlier and returning later, ensuring that you would miss him entirely.

But Joel wasn’t blind to what you were doing. He noticed the way you avoided his gaze, the way you kept your distance, and it cut him deeper than he would ever admit. The truth was, he understood why you were doing it. After everything that had happened between you—the misunderstandings, the hurt, the fear—it made sense that you would want to protect yourself.

Still, that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

As days passed, you found yourself trying to avoid Joel at all costs. You busied yourself with your duties, went out of your way to steer clear of places where you might run into him, and kept your interactions with others brief and impersonal. The emotional turmoil and the fear of vulnerability were too overwhelming for you to face him directly.

Joel, for his part, made several attempts to reach out. He tried to catch you in the common hall, to corner you in the infirmary, or to find a moment alone when you were on patrol. But every time, you were quick to deflect or disappear before he could get close.

One afternoon, as you were finishing up a shift at the infirmary, Joel appeared at the doorway. He hesitated, searching your face for any sign of recognition or willingness to talk. His heart ached at the sight of you, knowing how much he had hurt you and feeling powerless to bridge the gap between you.

You were in the middle of organizing some supplies when he cleared his throat, catching your attention. You looked up, your expression guarded.

"Hey," Joel began, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "Can we talk?"

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. "There’s nothing to talk about, Joel. Not right now."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know I’ve messed things up. I just—"

"I said no," you interrupted, trying to keep your voice steady. "I need some space."

Joel’s footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as he closed the distance between you. His presence was undeniable, and the intensity in his gaze was palpable even if you refused to meet it.

“Please,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Just a moment. I need you to hear me out.”

You could feel the weight of his words pressing against your resolve. The space you had demanded was shrinking with every step he took closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, and the air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

“You don’t understand,” Joel continued, his voice tinged with frustration and desperation. “I’m not asking for everything to be okay right now. I just need a chance to show you that I’m willing to change.”

You finally looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were filled with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve, and for a moment, you saw the man behind the mistakes—the man who was still trying to find his way back.

“Why should I believe you? You came to my house in the middle of the night, then you were nowhere to be found next morning.” You said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to remain composed. “After everything that’s happened, why should I trust that you’ll actually change?”

Joel’s expression softened, and he took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because I know I’ve hurt you, and I hate that I’ve done that. But I’m not giving up. I’m trying to be better, for myself and for you. I know it’s going to take time, but I need you to at least let me show you that I’m trying.”

The air between you was charged, the emotions swirling around like a storm ready to break. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating towards you, and despite your best efforts to hold your ground, you found yourself drawn to the intensity of the moment.

“Joel,” you began, but the words caught in your throat. The storm in your heart was a tempest of conflicting feelings, and you struggled to find a path through it.

Joel reached out slowly, his hand on your waist, sending a shiver down your spine.

Joel’s hand rested gently on your waist, and the touch was electrifying. It sent a shiver down your spine, stirring feelings that you had tried to bury beneath layers of hurt and confusion. His gaze was unwavering, filled with a depth of emotion that seemed to pierce through the storm clouded in your heart.

“I know I can’t undo the past,” Joel said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m here now, and I want to make things right. I need you to know that I’m trying, even if it’s hard to believe.”

Your breath hitched as his touch lingered, the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric of your clothes and pressing against your skin. The proximity was almost overwhelming, and you could feel the gravity of the moment pulling you closer to him.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. The memories of past pain and anger were still there, but they were overshadowed by the raw vulnerability in Joel’s eyes. His presence was a powerful force, and it was hard to ignore the way he made you feel—caught between the past and the promise of something new.

“Joel,” you whispered again, but this time your voice was filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension. “I don’t know if I can, if I’m ready.”

Joel’s eyes softened, and he took a small, hesitant step closer, his hand still resting on your waist. “You don’t have to be ready right now. I’m not asking for everything to be fixed in an instant. I just want you to know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

The sincerity in his voice and the gentle touch of his hand were almost too much to bear. You felt the walls you had built around yourself beginning to crumble, and the storm in your heart seemed to calm, if only slightly.

“I just need to figure things out,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I need time.”

Joel nodded, his expression a mix of understanding and relief. “Take all the time you need.” He assured you, “But I want to let you know I begged Tommy to put us together on patrol tomorrow.”

You looked at him, surprised by his insistence. “Why would you do that?”

Joel’s gaze was unwavering, a mix of resolve and vulnerability. “Because I want to be there for you. I want to show you that I’m committed to making things right, even if it means being there for you on patrol, even if it’s just another day together.”

His honesty was disarming, and despite the confusion and pain, you felt a flicker of warmth at his gesture. You understood his need to be close, to prove his commitment in any way he could.

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your voice tinged with both gratitude and hesitation. “But I need to make sure I’m ready. I don’t want to bring any more complications.”

Joel nodded, his eyes showing a mixture of understanding and resolve. “I get it. Just know that I’m not pushing you. I’m here to support you, however you need.”

The sincerity in his eyes and the softness of his tone made it clear that he was willing to wait, to be patient. As the moment stretched between you, the storm in your heart seemed to settle even more, leaving behind a fragile sense of calm.

With a final, gentle squeeze on your waist, Joel stepped back, giving you the space you needed. “Get some rest,” he said softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you watched him walk away, the promise of a new day together hung in the air, a delicate thread of hope amidst the lingering uncertainties. The path forward was still uncertain, but for now, there was a small but significant step towards healing and reconnection.

The days after the storm, the skies were clear, a crisp blue stretching above Jackson as you and Joel prepared for your patrol. Despite the lingering tension from the night before, there was an unspoken agreement between you to carry on as usual, to slip back into the familiar rhythm of your routine.

The morning was quiet, the only sound being the crunch of gravel underfoot as you walked side by side, your horses trailing behind you. The air was cool, the ground still damp from the storm, and the world felt strangely peaceful after the chaos of the previous night.

As you rode through the woods, the silence between you was comfortable, but as always, it didn’t take long for a familiar banter to spark up.

“You always insist on taking the longer route,” Joel grumbled, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “We could be back by lunch if we just cut through the valley.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And miss out on the view from the ridge? Not a chance. Besides, you’re always in such a hurry. What’s the rush, Joel?”

“I just don’t see the point in dragging things out when there’s work to be done,” he shot back, though there was no real heat in his voice. It was the kind of argument you had a dozen times before, more out of habit than any real disagreement.

“You need to learn to appreciate the little things,” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Like this beautiful day and the fact that we’re not freezing our asses off in a storm.”

Joel huffed, though you could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smile. “You sound like Tommy,” he muttered.

You were about to respond when your foot caught on a loose rock, sending you stumbling forward. It happened so quickly that you barely had time to react, your arms flailing as you tried to regain your balance.

But before you could hit the ground, Joel’s hand shot out, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back. The force of the movement caused you to overcompensate, and instead of falling to the ground, you ended up falling right into Joel, your chest colliding with his as you both tumbled backward.

You landed on top of him with an “oof,” your hands braced against his chest as you tried to steady yourself. For a moment, neither of you moved, the sudden closeness freezing you both in place.

Your faces were inches apart, your breath mingling with his as you looked down at him, your eyes locking. You could feel his heart pounding under your hands, the rapid thud of it mirroring your own.

The world around you seemed to fade away; the only thing you could focus on was the way his eyes searched yours, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. There was something raw and unguarded in the way he looked at you, as if he were seeing you for the first time, or maybe remembering you in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

“Careful there,” Joel said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”

His words were gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the roughness of his hands as they held you steady, and for a moment, you were lost in the sensation, in the closeness of him.

“Thanks,” you breathed, your voice just as soft. You didn’t move; you didn’t dare break the moment, but you knew you couldn’t stay like this forever.

Reluctantly, you started to pull back, but not before you saw the flicker of disappointment in Joel’s eyes. It was there for just a second, but it was enough to make your heart ache and remind you of the delicate balance you were trying to maintain.

Once you were back on your feet, you offered him a hand, helping him up. He took it, his grip firm but lingering just a moment longer than necessary, his touch sending a warm tingle through you.

“Guess I should watch where I’m going,” you said with a small, self-deprecating laugh, trying to break the tension.

Joel just nodded, his eyes still on you, something unreadable in his expression. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “You should.”

“You blushed,” Joel said softly, his voice carrying a teasing edge as he dusted off his clothes.

His words caught you off guard, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, the flush creeping up your neck as you realized he was right. You had blushed, and he had noticed.

“I did not,” you muttered, though the denial was weak, the embarrassment clear in your tone as you tried to avoid his gaze.

Joel just chuckled, the sound low and rich, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. “Sure, you didn’t,” he said, clearly unconvinced. He wasn’t about to let you off the hook that easily.

You shook your head, trying to will away the blush that you knew was only deepening with every second. “Just watch where you’re going next time,” you shot back, trying to deflect the attention from yourself.

Joel smirked, his expression softening as he looked at you with that familiar mix of amusement and affection. “You’re the one who tripped,” he reminded you, but there was no real bite to his words. If anything, he seemed almost pleased, as if the moment had lightened the tension that had been lingering between you since the night before.

You huffed in mock annoyance, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your true feelings. “Fine, you win this round,” you conceded, rolling your eyes playfully.

Joel just shook his head, still smiling as he started walking again; his pace slowed enough for you to fall in step beside him. “Don’t worry,” he said, his tone more serious now, though the warmth remained. “I’ve got your back. Always.”

His words, simple as they were, carried a weight that made your heart ache in the best way. You knew he meant it. For a mere moment of time, Joel seemed to be the one who woke up that day after his accident convinced he was going to make you fall in love with him. And though you weren’t sure what the future held, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence.

“I have to ask you something,” you began, unsure of how approaching the delicate topic you were about to dive into

“Sure.”

“When your daughter died.“

Joel’s reaction was immediate, his expression shifting from the tender warmth of a moment ago to a guarded hardness. His eyes, which had been so open and vulnerable, narrowed as he looked at you, his body tensing.

“How do you know about that?” He asked, his voice low and edged with a defensiveness you hadn’t heard from him in a long time.

You hesitated, realizing that you had touched on a wound that was still raw and still painful for him. The last thing you wanted was to push him away, especially when things had been starting to mend between you.

“Joel, I—” you began, struggling to find the right words. “You told me a while ago.”

He stayed silent, his gaze still intense, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes now—maybe fear, maybe grief. You couldn’t be sure.

“I just… I want to understand you better,” you continued, your voice softening as you tried to bridge the gap between you.

Joel’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you feared he was going to shut down completely. But then he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

“It’s not something I like to talk about,” he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “What happened to her—it broke me.” He said, walking forward.

“Did you feel like life stopped for you at that moment?” You asked, making him stop on his tracks.

Joel stopped dead in his tracks, the question hanging in the air between you like a weight that neither of you knew how to bear. His back was to you, his shoulders tense, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was going to respond or just walk away.

When he finally turned to face you, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes His eyes held a depth of pain that took your breath away.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It did.”

He looked down, as if he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze any longer, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Everything just stopped. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was like the world just shattered, and I was stuck in the middle of the wreckage, trying to find a way out, but there wasn’t one.”

You stepped closer to him, feeling the urge to close the distance between you to offer some kind of comfort, but you hesitated, unsure if he would welcome it. Instead, you just stood there, letting him speak, letting him finally give voice to the pain that had been locked inside him for so long.

“After that, nothing mattered,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “Nothing felt real. I just went through the motions and did what I had to do to survive. But there was this emptiness, this void that nothing could fill. And I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move past it.” He paused for a moment. “But then Ellie appeared, and I felt like a dad again.”

He glanced at you, searching your eyes for understanding. “It wasn’t the same, not by a long shot. But she gave me something to fight for, something to care about. I couldn’t just give up when she needed me. I had to keep going for her.”

The vulnerability in his voice was heartbreaking, and you could see how much Ellie meant to him and how she had somehow managed to pull him back from the edge. The bond they shared was unique, forged in the fires of loss and survival, and it had become a lifeline for him in ways you were only beginning to understand.

“Ellie’s special,” you said softly, not wanting to break the moment but needing to acknowledge the significance of what he was sharing with you. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Joel’s voice trembled as he spoke, the raw emotion seeping through the cracks of the façade he’d been holding onto. “Then you appeared,” he admitted, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I felt like you reminded me of the good times and of how sweet people used to be before all of this. And having to face that, it just reminded me of everything I lost.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your own heartache for him. Joel had been through so much, had lost so much, and now here he was, standing in front of you, his walls slowly crumbling as he let you see the parts of himself he kept hidden from the world.

“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” you said quietly, your voice laced with regret. “I never wanted to bring up old wounds.”

Joel shook his head, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh god, no. It’s not your fault. I was an asshole to you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just seeing someone like you, someone who still has that kindness, that light; it’s like looking at a world that doesn’t exist anymore. And it scares me.”

“Then why did you do it?” you asked, hoping that in the middle of this vulnerable side of Joel, he would be able to tell the truth. “You were nice to me at the beginning, then you were you.”

Joel’s expression faltered, and you could see the internal struggle play out across his face. He hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to protect you from the truth and the desire to finally be honest.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, a rawness that made your heart tighten in your chest.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. “I need to know why, Joel.”

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather the courage to say what needed to be said. “One night you were tipsy. Just talking. I walked you home, and then you kissed me.”

Your breath hitched; the memory completely lost to you. “I kissed you?” you repeated, the disbelief evident in your tone.

Joel nodded slowly, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you remembered. “You did. And the next day, you acted like nothing happened. Like it was just another day.”

You felt a surge of confusion and frustration. “I don’t remember that, Joel. I was probably too out of it. But why would that make you treat me the way you did?”

His jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he tried to find the right words. “Because it scared the hell out of me,” he admitted, his voice strained. “I’d been fighting these feelings for so long, trying to keep them buried, and then you kissed me, and it was like everything I’d been holding back came rushing to the surface.”

You stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “So you pushed me away,” you said, the realization dawning on you.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Joel confessed, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t want to risk losing you. But at the same time, I couldn’t just pretend like nothing had changed. So I built up walls and acted like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter. But you do matter, more than I ever let on. And I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

The anger you’d felt simmering beneath the surface began to bubble over, your emotions a tangled mess of hurt and confusion. “So all this time, you were just punishing me for something I didn’t even remember? For something that clearly didn’t mean as much to me as it did to you?”

Joel winced at your words, the guilt evident in his eyes. “I know how it sounds, and I’m sorry. I was just I was scared, alright? Scared of what I was feeling, scared of what it could mean. And I took it out on you. I’m not proud of it, but that’s the truth.”

You took a step back, needing some space to process everything. “You should have just talked to me, Joel. We could have figured this out together instead of… whatever this mess is.”

“I know,” he said, his voice filled with remorse. “I messed up. And I know it’s going to take time to fix things, if I even can. But I’m willing to try if you’ll let me.”

The storm of emotions swirling inside you made it hard to think clearly. You felt hurt, angry, and confused, but also a small part of you understood where Joel was coming from, even if you didn’t like it.

“After your accident, I took care of you, Joel, and Oh my god! You’re such a baby,” you said.

Joel blinked, taken aback by your sudden shift in tone. “What?”

“You heard me,” you replied, crossing your arms. “You’re a baby. You couldn’t handle your feelings, so you pushed me away instead of just talking to me like an adult.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his expression. “It wasn’t that simple.”

“Oh, but it was!” You cut him off, your frustration bubbling over. “I was there for you, Joel. I took care of you when you needed it, and you repay me by treating me like crap because you couldn’t deal with a stupid kiss.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance. “You’re a grown man, Joel. You’ve been through hell and back, and you let something as small as this trip you up? You’re right, you messed up. But you didn’t just mess up; you acted like a damn child.”

Joel’s defensiveness faded, replaced by a look of chagrin. “And you are mad at me still for not remembering things!”

“Oh my god, I’m not mad at you for that reason. I’m mad because of how you treated me.”

Joel looked down, the weight of your words hitting him hard. “I know. And I don’t blame you for being mad. I was wrong, and I should have handled things differently.”

You could see the regret etched into his features, but it didn’t make the sting of his actions hurt any less. “You pushed me away when I was just trying to be there for you,” you said, your voice wavering slightly as the emotions you’d been holding back started to surface. “I trusted you, and you made me feel like I did something wrong when all I wanted was to be close to you.”

You wanted to believe him, but the wall you’d built around yourself was still firmly in place. “You broke something, Joel, and I don’t know if it can be fixed,” you admitted.

Joel’s face fell, but he didn’t back down. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just… don’t give up on me yet.”

There was a long silence as you both stood there, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily between you. Finally, you nodded, though it was more out of exhaustion than anything else. “I’m not giving up,” you said quietly. “But I’m not ready to forgive you either.”

Joel nodded slowly, accepting your words for what they were a small step forward.

The tension between you and Joel was palpable as you turned to continue your walk back to Jackson. The path ahead was familiar, but it felt different now, heavy with the weight of the conversation you’d just had. Joel walked a few steps behind you, giving you the space you needed, though you could feel his presence like a shadow at your back.

The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Each step you took was a reminder of the fractured bond you were both trying to navigate. The trees around you swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling like whispers in the quiet, but the usual comfort of the forest felt distant, overshadowed by the turmoil in your heart.

As the gates of Jackson came into view, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. The town, once a place of refuge, now felt like a minefield of emotions you weren’t ready to face. You knew that when you walked through those gates, you’d have to see the people who had become your family, the ones who had seen you and Joel together, and you weren’t sure how to handle their questions or their concern.

Joel’s voice broke the silence, soft and hesitant. “We’re almost there. Do you want me to walk you the rest of the way?”

You paused, considering his offer. It was a simple question, but it carried so much more weight than either of you wanted to acknowledge. You were exhausted—physically, emotionally—and the idea of facing everyone on your own felt overwhelming. But at the same time, you weren’t sure if you could handle being so close to Joel after everything that had been said.

“I think I can manage,” you replied, your voice tinged with weariness. You turned to look at him, your expression softening just a little. “But… thank you.”

Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll be around if you need anything.”

You gave him a small, tired smile before turning back toward the gates. As you walked through them, you could feel the eyes of the guards and townspeople on you, their concern evident. You kept your head down, trying to avoid their gazes, and made your way to your quarters as quickly as possible.

Unbeknownst to you, Lori stood a short distance away, partially obscured by the shadows of a nearby building. Her eyes followed you and Joel, her expression unreadable. She had seen the two of you walking in together, though not exactly side by side, and the tension between you was obvious even from where she stood.

Lori’s heart clenched with a mixture of emotions she struggled to sort through. Anger, hurt, jealousy. They all swirled inside her, but there was something else too, something she didn’t want to admit. A pang of guilt, perhaps? She watched as Joel lingered near the gates, his gaze following you until you disappeared.

During net day, as you headed to the bar to grab something to eat for lunch, your thoughts were dancing around Joel’s words. And as if you were calling out for him, you saw him and Tommy sprinting towards you, their expressions tense and urgent.

“Hey!” Tommy called out, his voice sharp with worry. He reached you first, slightly out of breath, and placed a hand on your shoulder to steady himself. “We just got word—one of our patrol groups ran into raiders. They’re hurt, bad.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the air suddenly feeling colder around you. “Who? Where are they?” you asked, your voice shaky as fear began to creep in.

Joel was right behind Tommy, his face a mask of concern. “They’re bringing them in now. Maria sent a team to help. We need to get to the gates.”

The reality of the situation hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mind raced as you tried to process the information. “Do you know who’s hurt?” you managed to ask, even though you were dreading the answer.

Tommy shook his head. “We don’t know all the details yet. We just know they ran into trouble, and it wasn’t pretty. You should come with us.”

Without another word, the three of you started running towards the gates, your lunch forgotten. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded, fear clawing at your insides. The people of Jackson had become like family to you, and the thought of any of them being hurt—possibly worse—was unbearable.

As you neared the gates, you could see a small crowd gathering, everyone’s faces etched with worry. The gates creaked open, and you spotted the patrol group returning. The sight that met your eyes made your stomach drop.

Several members of the group were being supported by others, their clothes stained with blood and dirt. One of them was limping heavily, another clutching a makeshift bandage around their arm, and a third was barely conscious, their heads lolling to the side as they were carried in on a stretcher.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, your hand flying to your mouth in shock. You recognized some of the faces—people you’d shared meals with, worked alongside, and laughed with. Seeing them like this was like a nightmare come to life.

Joel was already moving towards the injured, his instincts kicking in. He glanced back at you, his expression a mix of determination and concern. “Come on,” he said, his voice firm. “We need to help.”

You immediately went into action, with the medical staff, two doctors, and you were there to assist and prepare the supplies you needed. The chaos of the scene was familiar, and you worked efficiently, focusing on the task at hand.

As you worked, you heard footsteps behind you and glanced up to see Joel entering the room. His face was pale, his usual confidence replaced with concern. He looked around, trying to make sense of the situation, and his eyes met yours. For a moment, you saw the same depth of emotion you had seen before, a silent understanding passing between you.

Joel approached you, his voice low. “How can I help?”

You were momentarily taken aback by the offer, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. “Just keep out of the way for now. I need to focus on these guys. They’re in bad shape.”

Joel nodded and stepped back, watching with a mix of concern and helplessness as you and the medical staff worked. The minutes ticked by as you tended to the injured, applying bandages, administering pain relief, and stabilizing their conditions. The work was intense, but you were in your element, pushing aside any personal worries for the moment.

You moved swiftly from one patient to the next, checking vitals and administering care. When you reached Ethan, one of the patrol members who had been particularly badly hurt, you could see that he was in a bad state. His face was pale, and his breathing was shallow. His eyes, once sharp and alert, now seemed distant, lost.

"Ethan," you said softly, trying to get his attention. "How are you feeling? Can you tell me what's hurting the most?"

For a moment, Ethan didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on something far away, his mind seemingly adrift. You noticed a dark, spreading stain on his arm, and upon closer inspection, you realized with a jolt that it was a bite mark. The infection was spreading, and it was clear that Ethan was in the early stages of infection.

Panic surged through you as you looked up at Ethan's face, your heart sinking. "Ethan, you’ve been bitten. We need to—"

Before you could finish, Ethan’s eyes snapped back into focus. In a sudden, violent movement, he grabbed you by the neck, his grip strong and desperate. His expression was a mix of fear and anguish, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the sheer intensity of it.

"Get away from him!" Joel’s voice cut through the chaos. He rushed forward, grabbing Ethan’s arm and pulling it away from your neck, managing to pry Ethan’s fingers loose, though Ethan struggled against him.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears and how bad you were bearing for breathing.

The sudden force of Joel’s intervention broke Ethan’s hold, and he fell back, his breath ragged and his eyes wild. The other medical staff quickly moved in to restrain him, and you stumbled back, gasping for air, your hands instinctively rubbing your neck.

Joel’s eyes were wide with a mix of fear and anger. "Are you okay?" he asked urgently, his gaze scanning your face for any signs of injury or distress.

You nodded, though your voice was shaky. "I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken."

Joel’s expression softened with relief, but the concern didn’t leave his eyes. “We need to handle this. If he’s infected.” His voice trailed off, the grim reality settling in.

The gunshot put your attention back on Ethan, who now lay motionless on the ground.

The sharp sound of the gunshot echoed through the infirmary, pulling your attention back to Ethan. His body lay motionless on the ground, a grim testament to the harsh realities of your world. The medical staff had taken the necessary precautions, but the finality of the situation was palpable.

Joel’s face was a mask of conflicted emotions, his eyes shifting from the lifeless form of Ethan to you. The weight of what had just happened hung heavily in the air, and the reality of the infection and its consequences was stark and unforgiving.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. The adrenaline was still coursing through you, making it difficult to think clearly. The reality of Ethan's fate, coupled with the close call you had just experienced, left you feeling shaken and vulnerable.

“Are you sure you’re, okay?” Joel asked again, his voice softer now but still filled with concern.

You managed a nod, though your hands were still trembling slightly. “I’m alright. Just… a little rattled.”

Joel’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his worry evident. He seemed to be grappling with his own emotions as well.

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking up at him.

Joel blinks, caught off guard by your question. He had been so focused on your well-being that it hadn’t occurred to him that you might be concerned about him too. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, though his voice was thick with emotion. But the way his hand lingered on your arm, the way his eyes softened when they met yours, told a different story.

You weren’t sure what made you do it; maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins or the rawness of the moment, but you reached up and gently touched his cheek.

Joel closed his eyes as your fingertips lightly grazed his cheek, the warmth of your touch sending a jolt through him. For a moment, the chaos of the scene around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a fragile bubble of quiet intimacy.

He opened his eyes slowly, meeting your gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he said softly, though his words lacked conviction. “I’ve seen worse.”

You nodded, understanding that while he might brush off concern for himself, the weight of the situation was affecting him deeply. “I know,” you said gently, your voice barely more than a whisper.

As the day wore on and the news of the raiders surrounding Jackson spread, the town sprang into action. The common area transformed into a hub of activity as people gathered to discuss a strategy to defend what everyone called home. The mood was tense but determined; everyone knew how critical it was to stay united and vigilant.

Tommy and Maria were at the forefront, rallying the community and coordinating efforts to ensure everyone's safety. Their voices cut through the cacophony of worried chatter as they outlined the plan.

“We need to have eyes on every approach,” Tommy said firmly. “We can’t afford to miss anything. If anyone sees anything suspicious, report it immediately.”

Maria nodded in agreement, her face a mask of resolve. “We’re going to split into groups. Some will keep watch from the perimeter; others will stay here and fortify the defenses.”

Amidst the crowd, you stepped forward, ready to volunteer for the lookout duty. “I’m in,” you said, raising your hand. “I can help keep watch.”

Joel, who had been helping with preparations, looked up sharply. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You need to stay here. It’s too dangerous out there.”

You were taken aback by his sudden, forceful objection. “Joel, I can handle it. I’ve been out there before, and I know how to stay safe.”

Joel stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of concern and frustration. “This isn’t the same as a routine patrol. The raiders are already here, and things are going to get rough. I don’t want you out there.”

“I’ve been dealing with that before,” you gritted between your teeth.

“She’s strong, but we need at least five more people,” Tommy said.

Joel's expression remained firm as he looked at you, but there was an unmistakable trace of worry in his eyes. “I get that you’ve been through a lot, but this isn’t just about being strong. It’s about the risk. I can’t—”

Tommy interjected, his voice steady but urgent. “She’s strong, Joel, but we need at least five more people out there to cover all the necessary positions. We don’t have enough eyes on the perimeter as it is.”

Maria nodded in agreement, glancing between you and Joel. “We need all the help we can get. I understand Joel’s concern, but the priority is to keep everyone safe. If you’re willing, we can use you out there.”

Joel’s gaze flickered between you and Tommy, the conflict clear on his face. He knew the stakes were high, and while his protective instincts were strong, he also recognized the necessity of having enough people on the ground.

“I don’t like it,” Joel said finally, his voice softer but still laden with concern.

Joel’s concern was palpable, but before he could say more, Lori stepped forward from the group, her expression determined. “If you’re worried about her, then let me go too,” she said firmly, her gaze meeting Joel’s.

Joel looked at Lori, surprise flickering across his face. “Lori, I—”

Lori cut him off, her tone resolute. “Look, I’ve got experience with situations like this. I’m willing to put myself out there. If it helps you feel better about her going, then let me join her.”

Maria glanced between Joel and Lori, clearly weighing the situation. “That could actually work,” she said thoughtfully. “If we have both of you out there, it might alleviate some of the pressure.”

Joel hesitated, still visibly torn. He didn’t trust Lori at all.

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Lori, his concern clearly evident. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of her going out there with you, especially given the tension between the two of you.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Joel said, his voice low but firm. “Lori, you’ve got experience, but this situation is different. It’s more dangerous than anything we’ve faced recently.”

Lori met his gaze with equal determination. “I understand your concern, Joel, but if I can help keep things under control, then I’m willing to take the risk.”

Maria, sensing the mounting tension, stepped in to medierate. “Joel, I understand your hesitation. But we need to make sure we have enough people to cover all positions. If Lori’s offering to help and she’s capable, it might be our best option.”

Joel’s eyes flickered with frustration as he glanced at you, then back at Lori. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “But both of you need to stay in touch and make sure you’re covering each other’s backs. I don’t want any risks.”

As the group readied themselves to head out, the tension was palpable. The urgency of the situation had everyone moving swiftly, but there was a lingering heaviness in the air, a mix of anxiety and unspoken feelings.

You and Joel exchanged one final, intense glance before you left. His eyes held a storm of emotions—concern, fear, and something deeper that you couldn’t quite place. It was clear he was struggling with the idea of you going out there, but he was also showing the resolve to stay behind and protect Jackson if things went wrong.

“Be careful,” Joel said, his voice soft but stern. There was a vulnerability in his tone that was almost painful to hear.

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. “I will. You too, Joel.”

With a final look, you turned and joined Tommy, Lori, and the rest of the group. As you walked away, you felt a mixture of resolve and unease. The path ahead was uncertain, and the weight of the responsibilities you carried felt heavier with each step.

The sky was darkening as you and Lori took your positions around Jackson. The sounds of the town preparing for the possible assault filled the air—voices calling out instructions, the clatter of equipment being readied, and the distant murmur of worried conversations.

Lori nodded, her expression softening slightly. “We’ll be careful. You have my word.”

You could see the weight of Joel’s concern in his posture, the way his jaw tightened and his eyes searched yours. It was clear he was still struggling with letting you go out there, but he was also facing the reality of the situation.

“Let’s get ready,” Maria said, stepping in to redirect the focus. “We’ve got to move fast if we’re going to set everything up in time.”

Joel and Tommy exchange a look from the distance. One look that said

Please protect her from all.

The group moved through the woods with tense precision. The night was dark, and the forest seemed to close in around them, the trees casting long, eerie shadows in the dim light. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig sent a jolt of anxiety through the group as they moved carefully toward their designated positions.

You were positioned with Lori and a few other members; your nerves heightened as you scanned the surrounding area. The anticipation of an attack weighed heavily on you, each sound in the forest amplified by the tension of the situation. Lori was focused, her experience evident in her movements as she checked and rechecked her gear.

Tommy, who had stayed behind for a while, was now close enough to provide support if needed but kept their distance to avoid drawing attention. His gaze was constantly shifting, his eyes searching the darkness for any signs of movement. The worry etched into his face was evident even from a distance.

As the minutes ticked by, the silence grew more oppressive, each member of the group lost in their own thoughts and preparations. The night felt endless, the anticipation building as everyone awaited the inevitable clash.

Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by the sound of distant shouts and the unmistakable noise of raiders closing in. The group’s alertness surged into action as everyone took their positions, readying themselves for the confrontation.

“Here they come!” Lori’s voice cut through the tension, her tone commanding. “Stay sharp and keep an eye on each other!”

The raiders emerged from the darkness, their figures outlined against the low light of the moon. The confrontation was chaotic and intense, the night erupting into a flurry of movement and noise. You fought with determination; every instinct heightened as you defended your position.

Despite the chaos, you could feel the presence of your allies around you; their movements synchronized as they worked together to repel the raiders. The noise of gunfire and shouts filled the air, and you found a grim sense of focus as you engaged with the attackers.

In the midst of the chaos, Lori’s actions took a dangerous turn. Amid the melee, she made a sudden, unexpected move that shifted the dynamics of the confrontation. As you and Tommy were engaged with the raiders, Lori took it upon herself to maneuver through the fray, pushing for a more aggressive stance.

“Cover me!” Lori shouted, her voice rising above the din. “I’m going to create a diversion!”

Before anyone could fully grasp her intention, Lori threw a series of flashbangs and smoke grenades into the thick of the raiders. The sudden blinding light and thick smoke created confusion among the attackers but also disrupted your group’s coordination.

The diversion had the unintended effect of drawing the raiders' focus toward the source of the commotion. The chaos escalated quickly, with the raiders now focused on the new threat and your group struggling to maintain control.

In the disarray, Lori’s actions created an opening for a smaller group of raiders to break through the defenses. The confusion spread, and it became increasingly difficult for everyone to stay organized. As the situation grew more chaotic, some members of the group started to retreat, trying to regroup and escape from the overwhelming numbers of raiders.

Tommy, realizing the deteriorating situation, shouted, “We need to fall back! Get to the rendezvous point!”

Amid the confusion, Lori’s initial strategy had backfired. She and the others began to withdraw, but in the scramble to escape, it became evident that you were separated from the rest of the group. You fought to hold your ground, but the chaos and disorganization made it nearly impossible to regroup.

In the thick of the battle, you tried to push your way toward the retreating group, but the raiders were relentless. Despite your efforts, you found yourself isolated, with the sounds of the retreating group fading into the distance. The enemy's numbers were overwhelming, and you had to take cover behind a nearby structure, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath.

The night seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited, your thoughts racing with worry about whether you’d be able to rejoin your group. The noise of the battle grew distant, replaced by the eerie silence of the aftermath.

When the group finally made it back to Jackson, the atmosphere was tense and somber. Tommy and Lori arrived, looking battered and exhausted. The sight of the raiders repelled, and the group’s narrow escape was overshadowed by the stark absence of you.

The patrol group trudged back into Jackson, their faces weary and their clothes stained with dirt and blood. They moved slowly, burdened by the weight of the day's events. As they passed through the gates, people began to gather, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

Joel was waiting anxiously at the gate, his face etched with concern. As soon as he saw Tommy and Lori, his eyes darted around, searching for you. When he saw that you were missing, his face went pale, and a deep anger began to simmer beneath the surface.

“Where is she?” Joel demanded; his voice barely controlled. His eyes locked onto Tommy with a fierce intensity. “Where the hell is she?”

Tommy's face was grim as he approached Joel. “We lost her in the chaos. Lori tried to make a diversion, and things got out of hand. We couldn’t get back to her.”

Joel’s eyes shot to Lori; his anger palpable. “A diversion? You’re telling me you put her in danger and didn’t make sure she was safe?”

Lori’s face was flushed with exhaustion and guilt. “It was a mistake, Joel. I didn’t mean for it to get out of control. We were trying to get the raiders to focus elsewhere so we could regroup.”

Joel's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. “A mistake? She’s out there alone because of you. How could you let this happen?”

Maria stepped in, trying to diffuse the escalating situation. “Joel, yelling at Lori isn’t going to help. We need to focus on finding her. We have to get a search party together and head back out.”

Joel took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t get to make that call,” he hissed, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “If anything happens to her,”

“She’ll be fine,” Lori cut him off, rolling her eyes. “You’re overreacting.”

Joel’s eyes were wild with panic and anger. “No, you don’t understand. She could be hurt, or worse. We need to get out there now!”

Tommy put a hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “We will. But we need to be smart about it. We can’t rush in without a plan. We’ll organize a search party and go as soon as we can.”

Joel shook his head, his breathing heavy and uneven. “I don’t care about plans. I’m not waiting around while she’s out there.”

But Joel wasn’t listening. He was already turning away, his mind racing with a hundred different scenarios, each worse than the last. He needed to find you to make sure you were safe. The thought of you out there, alone and vulnerable, sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Without another word, Joel stormed off towards the gates, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn’t going to wait around for someone else to bring you back. He would find you himself, no matter what it took.

Joel raced through the woods, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he searched for any sign of you. The setting sun cast long shadows over the path, and the dense trees around him made it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. But he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t. The thought of you out here alone, in danger, was enough to keep him moving, fear and adrenaline pushing him forward.

Joel refused to let himself think about the worst possibilities; he just needed to find you.

Tommy was right behind him, struggling to keep up with Joel's relentless pace. “Joel, slow down!” Tommy called out, his voice strained. “We need to do this smart. If you get hurt, we’re no good to anyone.”

Joel didn’t respond, his focus solely on finding you. He knew Tommy was right, but the fear gnawing at him made it impossible to slow down. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and every shadow that moved in the corner of his eye made his heart skip a beat.

After what it felt like hours of searching, Joel and Tommy came upon a clearing. The scene before them was chaotic—bodies of raiders lay scattered across the ground, the aftermath of a brutal fight. Blood stained the dirt, and the silence was eerie, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

When Joel reached the house, the door was ajar, creaking on its hinges as the wind pushed it back and forth. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and urgency propelling him forward. He approached cautiously, his hand gripping his revolver tightly, every nerve on edge. Behind him, Tommy moved in tandem, his rifle at the ready, the two brothers moving as one unit.

Joel nudged the door open with his foot, and it swung inward with a loud creak, revealing the scene inside. The room was a disaster—furniture overturned, broken glass scattered across the floor, and the bodies of several men lying lifeless on the ground. Bloodstains marred the walls and floor, the remnants of a violent struggle.

Tommy entered behind him, his eyes sweeping the room with a practiced intensity. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, the carnage in front of them telling a grim story.

Joel’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes searched the room, desperately looking for you among the chaos. The fear of what he might find gnawed at him, each second feeling like an eternity.

And then he saw you.

You were slumped against the far wall, your body still and pale, but you were alive. Relief surged through him, though it was tempered by the sight of your injuries. Joel rushed to your side, his revolver slipping from his grip as he knelt down next to you, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch your face.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve got you. I’m here.” He gently touched your face, his fingers brushing against your cold skin as he checked for any serious injuries.

You blinked, your eyes struggling to focus on him. “Joel?” you murmured weakly, the sound of his name on your lips a small comfort to him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? Just stay with me.”

You nodded faintly, your body leaning into his touch as if you couldn’t bear to hold yourself up any longer. “They… they ambushed us,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I tried… but there were too many.”

"Did you kill them all by yourself?" Tommy asked, his voice tinged with both awe and concern as he glanced around the room, taking in the lifeless bodies scattered across the floor.

You nodded weakly, the effort it took to do so evident in the way your body sagged against Joel’s. “I didn’t have a choice,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “They were going to… I couldn’t let them…”

Joel’s heart ached as he listened to you, the weight of what you’d been through settling heavily on his shoulders. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, the toll that the fight had taken on you, both physically and emotionally.

“You did what you had to,” Joel said, his voice steady but filled with a fierce protectiveness. “You survived, and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m sleepy, Joel,” you said, trying to close your eyes, and that’s when Joel’s breath caught in his throat. As he felt the warm, sticky blood on his hand. The sight of it. You had blood dripping from your shirt.

He pressed his hand more firmly against your wound, trying to stem the bleeding, but it was clear that you were slipping away.

Joel’s heart skipped a beat as he saw your eyelids droop, your voice growing weaker with every word. “No, no, no,” he muttered, his voice thick with panic as he gently shook you. “You have to stay awake, alright? Just keep your eyes on me.”

He quickly adjusted his grip on you, his hand moving to press against your abdomen where the blood was seeping through your clothes. The wound was worse than he had initially realized, and the sight of it made his stomach twist with fear.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his voice trembling. “I’m not losing you; you hear me?”

You tried to nod, but the pain and exhaustion were overwhelming, pulling you toward unconsciousness. “Joel… it hurts,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I know, sunshine, I know,” he said, his heart breaking at the sight of you in so much pain.

sunshine

It took him almost to lose you to remember your words.

It took him almost to lose you to remember yours I love you.

It took him almost to lose you to realize how important you were to him.

"I'm sleepy" you whispered, almost inaudible to hear.

"No, you're not," Joel said.

"Shhh.Let me sleep, Joel. Can you carry me to bed?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he struggled to keep his composure. “I’m carrying you, okay. Every single day for the rest of my life, I’ll carry you,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Baby, baby, baby,” he whispered into your hair, his tears mixing with the dirt and blood on your skin. He was terrified of how still you were in his arms, caught between life and death.

“I’ll save you like you saved me,” he vowed, his voice a desperate prayer as he held you close, willing you to stay with him, to fight, to live.

+++++++++++

I tagged everyone interested in more parts or or the ones who commented, but I couldn't tag everyone because all got mixed (again) if you don't want to be tagged you can tell me, if you want to be tagged, you can also tell me. I tried to add everyone but I don't know If I did.

💌 tags: @dreamtofus @paperstarzzz @chewie-bars @hotleaf-juice

@riedswifts @dizzyforyou @prideandaesthetic @chateaujoon

@18dmlk @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @frogjumps-world @camy-nyancat @sarahhxx03 @jasminedragoon @cuteanimalmama @eleganthottubfun @skysmiller @nana90azevedo @astralqueenoc

@missladym1981 @persephone-girl @darka-moon @beltzboys2015-blog @sptbear @joelsteinfeld @astralqueenoc @bishtrouille

@locaparapedrito @wolfbook87 @picketniffler @axelspin @pedrotease @riedswifts @mclibs23 @feliciab1990 @swornkisses @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kirsteng42 @lostfleurs

[almostfoxglove]

SIT BACK, BABY

written for @joelmillerisapunk's #PPCUBodyWorshipChallenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Frankie Morales x f!Reader BODY PART: Thighs | WORD COUNT: 4.1k CW: Smut (m!oral), pwp, drinking (not during smut), sorta sub!Frankie.

SUMMARY: You've got a crush on your neighbor across the hall and finally get the chance to show him you care.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

Your alarm clock reads 2:02 A.M. when you stir from a sweat-stained dream. 

Someone is breaking into your apartment.

Or sounds like they're trying to break in, at least. The awkward stabbing and metal scrape of disobedient picks and keys. A sudden fear cleaves through you, skull to stomach, and just like that you’re wide awake. Then you hear a familiar voice mutter, “Fucking please—”

And you sigh. You’re not in any danger.

Yellow light leaks into your apartment from the hall where you find your mountain of a neighbor slumped on his knees at your feet, one hand raised at the level of your lock, a silver key pinched between his forefinger and thumb.

He tilts his chin up, letting you glimpse beneath the brim of his navy ball cap the glassiness of his warm eyes, the flush of his cheeks. His lips part, bewildered or lost. The man looks hopelessly drunk. 

“Haanng on,” Frankie grins, squinting up at you. “You’re in my apartment?”

He drops his hand and his apartment key slips from his grasp onto the floor, unnoticed by him. You’ve lived across the hall from him for two years, steadfast in your belief that fucking anyone who lives in your building—or frankly, within a three block radius—is a hideous mistake. Has that made your hopeless crush on him any less… crushing?

Absolutely fucking not.

Now, seeing Frankie on his knees is doing something terrible to your brain. Giving it all sorts of ideas. You blame his jeans, the brawn of his thighs—how badly you’d like to sink your teeth into them surprises you.

“My apartment, actually,” you correct, lifting one finger to point over his shoulder, across the hall. Frankie turns and, sure enough, recognizes his apartment number gleaming on the door.

“Shit,” he says. You make a point of staring him dead in the eye even when you’d usually look away, just so you don’t look at his legs. The spread of his knees on the carpeted floor. 

Doe-eyed, Frankie blinks up at you—helpless as a pup—as need stirs in your stomach. The urge to hold him. To take care of him for a while.

“I’m a lil’ drunk,” he admits in a whisper, like it’s a secret, like you wouldn’t have known.

Scoffing, you shake your head. “You don’t say.”

He buries his face in his palms and groans quietly, embarrassed. “Hermosa,” he muffles, making your mouth go dry. When his hands drop, his gaze lands at your feet, rising slowly to your legs—he turns, you think, the color of a berry. Something that bursts red against your fingertips in summer.

“You’re not wearing pants,” Frankie says plainly, his eyebrows high on his head.

Shit.

You cross your arms over your chest as if that’ll hide your legs, bare beneath the t-shirt you sleep in. You can’t remember what underwear you have on, if it’s a cute pair or a laundry day pair, and pray quietly that he can’t glimpse them from where he’s sitting, though he probably can. What’s worse, though, is that you can tell Frankie’s not trying to peek. He’s looking you in the eye—respectful, it seems, even on the verge of a blackout.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you say, trying not to blush. “Y’woke me up.”

Poor, drunk Frankie’s face just folds. Devastated to have bothered you—he huffs softly, lets his eyes stutter closed, dark lashes shivering on his cheeks. It really isn’t fair, how cute he is like this. Grown, drunk men are idiots. Nuisances, at best. And yet here he is—this broad mass of a man, solid in his calm, easy way—managing to be both out of his mind and entirely endearing at the same time. It’s almost annoying, how not annoyed you are to be disturbed from a fit of slumber. You’re sort of glad.

“M’sorry,” Frankie mumbles, staring at the floor. He lifts one finger and with your breath held you watch it move slowly toward your foot until his fingertip meets your bare ankle. Softly, so softly. You hardly feel it, this small touch, his fragile apology. 

It’s like he’s trying to kill you. It’s like he knows you’ve had some stupid crush on him for two years.

“Come on,” you say, as you crouch down to retrieve his forgotten key, then his arm, warm and solid in your grasp. “Think you better get into bed.”

He giggles as he lurches to his feet, thankfully able to stand after you steady him and release the weight of his arm. Cheeks warm, you walk his key across the hall, unlock the door, and step aside for him to go in with a sweep of your hand.

“How embarrassed should I be tomorrow?” Frankie asks, coming to stand at your side to stare down the tunnel of darkness formed by his entryway.

You shrug. “Willing to bet you won’t remember this in the morning,” you say, smirk nagging at your lips as you nudge his key back into his hand.

At the contact, he turns, face shadowed by his hat and curls licking playfully beneath the brim, and though you expect him to laugh or smile there’s not a drop of humor in his expression—he looks, you think, disappointed. Like maybe he doesn’t want to forget. Squinting, you tilt your head in the direction of his apartment, but Frankie doesn’t move. He blinks drowsily at you, bottom lip pouting again.

This is probably the most you’ve ever spoken in one go.

The closest you’ve ever stood.

“Pope’s never gonna le’me live this down,” he mumbles.

You huff a short chuckle under your breath and set one hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, to urge him inside—clearly the man’s never going to go in on his own. 

“That one of your broad shouldered friends?” you tease.

Frankie only budges a step closer to the doorway, frowning as he rolls his shoulders, standing up a little straighter as if to make a point. “Yes,” he grumbles.

“Don’t worry, honey,” you tease, then drop your hand from his back. “You’re very broad, too.”

“I feel bad I woke you up,” Frankie says softly.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper, and you feel it again—that impulse to hold him, make it better. Rub his shoulders or something, just to help him relax.

“It is,” Frankie mumbles sorrily.

“Did you mean to wake me up?”

He sighs. “No.”

“Were you trying to break in, or did you get mixed up?”

“Got mixed up,” he admits quietly.

You catch his gaze and offer him a small smile. “Then I forgive you,” you say. “No harm done, seriously. You’re not the worst person to find at my door.”

This seems to settle him, at least a little, because with one final, frowning huff Frankie surrenders his guilt and nods. “Okay,” he murmurs, and time stands briefly still as he moves toward you—leaning in to graze his lips against your cheek, his stubble brushing your skin. 

You stand, statued by your surprise, unable even to breathe.

“G’night, nena.”

“Goodnight,” you choke out, grateful that in his state he doesn’t seem to register your shock or the tremble in your voice. If he weren’t drunk, you’re pretty sure that would’ve snapped you. You’d have told him right now and right here that you’ll take care of him, help him unwind a little—that you’ve wanted to touch him for two years and it hasn’t gotten any easier, orbiting him without the guts to swing yourself closer to his gravity.

But he is drunk. Three quarters out of his mind, if you had to guess, based on the clumsy muddle of his footsteps as he at last sways into his apartment, shutting the door behind him. Leaving you breathless in the hallway, alone.

In the morning, you wake to a band of sunlight searing through your curtains. You’ve slept through your alarm all the way till ten, and lift your phone to find a text waiting on your lock screen, sent two hours ago.

Think I owe you an apology, neighbor.

Groggy, you frown at the string of digits you don’t recognize until the night comes back to you, piece by piece. Your heart stutters as you sit up in bed, letting your bedsheets pool in your lap as you type out a reply.

How did you get my number?

Also, you got up at 8am?? Are you even alive?

You get a reply only minutes later, while you’re brushing your teeth.

Told the building manager that I was getting your mail and wanted to return it. Little scary how few questions they asked.

You scoff, only to have your phone ding again immediately.

Sure hope I’m alive. I have a very thoughtful neighbor to thank for getting me home safe.

You spit into the sink, then rinse your mouth, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

Thoughtful, huh?

Pretty, too. Don’t know if I’ve mentioned that yet.

Still feel bad about last night. Let me make it up to you.

No more than six hours later, you’re pulled from whatever TV show’s been rotting your brain all afternoon by a steady knock on your front door. Your skin twinkles with nerves.

You’re fully clothed this time—showered too, thankfully—and when you open the door Frankie isn’t on his knees. He’s standing, curls squashed beneath his hat, t-shirt stretched across his chest, in black athletic shorts baring him below the knee, as he holds up two plastic bags that fill the hallway with a smell you know all too well: takeout from the Chinese place you love down the road. When your eyes round at the sight, Frankie grins, letting you glimpse the dimple that winks from his cheek. 

You see, too, his exhaustion. The navy shadows bruised beneath his glassy eyes. He may be alive, but it’s painfully obvious that he must, beneath that smile, be suffering a brutal hangover. And he’s bringing you food—too generous a gesture, you think, for such a small crime.

“Hoped you might like this place,” he says.

“You really didn’t have to—” you start to say, but Frankie shakes his head before squeezing past you in the doorway to come inside.

“Only fair,” he insists, and you shut the door while he toes out of his shoes, thoughtful enough not to drag dirt into your apartment as he breezes into your kitchen like he’s done this a hundred times before. Opening the bags, cracking each container, fishing through drawers until he finds your cutlery. Domestic and entirely alien: this man you’ve known for two years who’s never entered your space, making himself at home. Trying to serve you.

Dumbstruck, you watch him, unsure what to say and the longer you do, the more the ache of him seems to radiate. You swear you see him wince when a drawer slams too hard, when he looks up accidentally into the ceiling light. With one hand, you reach out and turn the dimmer switch to soften the lights over his head, and Frankie looks up from the styrofoam containers to catch your eye. 

The grin drops from his face. “Shit—is this too much? It’s too much, isn’t it?”

Frankie wipes his hands on his thighs as he rounds the kitchen island to stand before you, dark lashes batting worriedly over his freckled cheeks as he lowers his head to meet your eye. “If you want, I can just leave you with the food. Don't wanna be here if you don't want me to be.”

A soft scoff leaves your lips, the first breath of disbelief disguised as laughter. “Frankie,” you breathe, and his chest puffs at the way you say his name. “You look like you feel like shit. Your head must be killing you. And you brought me food.”

His jaw ticks, and you wonder if he’s been looking for an excuse to talk to you, too.

“No more fussing over me,” you say, lifting your hands slowly to rest on his shoulders. 

Frankie flinches but doesn’t pull away, his warm eyes flickering between yours like he’s trying to unpuzzle you. 

“Let me help,” you say.

“Hermosa,” he murmurs, sounding winded. Desperate. He shakes his head.

With a soft grin you slip your hands down his arms—firm and hot beneath your palms—to guide him toward your couch, warmed by a box of sunlight cast through the windows. Frankie sits with a gentle sigh, biceps tensing beneath your grasp, not yet sure what to make of you. You give his arms a light squeeze, flash him a grin you hope might ease his nerves, and sink to the carpet between his knees.

Frankie’s eyes go black.

The air simmers, woozy as the space above molten tarmac in the dead of summer. It’s a kind of spell, you think. His sharpened breath. Your hands slipping easily over his bare knees. And it’s obvious: the riot of guilt surging behind his lust-blown eyes, his instinct to politely turn you down as you rub his joints softly with your thumbs.

“Don’t have to,” you tell him, careful to hold his eye so he’ll see you mean them. “But I’d like to, if you want. Could take care of you for a while.”

Frankie lets out a ragged breath, and his eyes slam shut before he drops his head on the back of your couch. “Shit—are you—shit.” He grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes, groans quietly, and from the floor you watch the way his whole body shudders as he struggles for air.

“That a yes or a no, let’s eat Chinese food?” you ask softly, hands frozen on his knees until he answers. “Either is good.”

“Shit—yes, that’s a yes,” Frankie pants, still hiding behind his hands with his head tipped back.

You lift one hand from his knee to reach for him, curling your fingertips around his forearm, pulling it away from his eyes. “Mírame,” you say, and it’s possible Frankie comes undone right then and there—chest deflating, arms slumping limp into his lap, head lolling to look down at you in disbelief.

Lips parted, his tongue slips across his bottom lip, sending a thrill through your body and a sudden stutter to your heart. But this isn’t about you; it’s about him, so you squeeze your thighs together as Frankie shifts his hips on the couch and nods shakily.

Oh, this is dangerous. How he already looks ready to fall apart beneath your hands. You might never get enough of it.

Testing the waters, you slide your hands slowly up his thighs just far enough to brush your fingertips to the hem of his shorts, the roped muscles in his legs tensing beneath your caress. “If you want me to stop, just say, okay?”

Frankie shakes his head, licks his lip again, and your eyes follow the glide of his tongue. “Not gonna want you to stop,” he breathes, as his cheek dimples with the flash of a sheepish grin.

You hum softly, shuffle closer to the couch, encouraging him to spread his legs wider with a press of your hands. “Just sit back, baby,” you murmur.

So he does. Frankie grunts as you patiently knead the mesa of his thighs—the hills of muscle bound tight beneath golden skin, so hot to the touch—and lower your lips to lay a kiss on his knee, glancing up through your lashes to gauge his reaction.

He rewards you with a needy groan that goes straight to your cunt.

You smile against his skin, let your hands wander, thumbs digging into his thighs as you work loose their knotted web. Humming, your hands slipping beneath the black curtain of his shorts to stray higher as you work, you slide the flat of your tongue up his inner thigh and Frankie’s whole body trembles.

“Fuck—nena, shit,” he pants, just before one hand bolts out to cover the crown of your head, stilling your movements. 

You take your mouth off him and look up, basking in the abyss of his dark eyes and the red of his neck. “Want me to stop?” you ask.

Immediately, Frankie’s head shakes nonono as he gathers your hair in his fist, holding it back from your face. “Que cosa mas linda. So fuckin’ pretty.”

It’s easy, but you knew it would be, watching his body twitch and melt beneath your ministrations, the caress of your attentive hands. The wet suckle of your lips and tongue rising towards his hips. Slowly, you unwind him. Let him dissolve into your couch, always with some sweet nothing on his lips that could ruin you if you let it—mierda, feels so—so fucking good, perfect hands, holy shit, tan suave.

The taste of his skin is a balm in itself, heady, a little sweat-kissed, addictive. With his shorts shoved high on his hips, you latch at the supple flesh of his inner thigh and suck, drawing a tortured whimper from Frankie as he shivers, his chest rising faster with every breath.

“Shit—por favor, please,” he begs, as the hand in your hair gently scratches your scalp. It’s so gentle you almost believe he doesn’t know he’s doing it—that touching you like this, so tenderly, so ruinously, is to Frankie instinct alone.

“So sweet to me,” you murmur against his thigh, licking the pink mark you’ve left on his skin. “So strong, so warm. Just wanna take care of you, Frankie. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Hermosa,” he groans, desperate now, his cock twitching beneath the black of his shorts.

The square of sunlight glows over you both, warming you just as much as his body. Beyond the cracked window you can hear the chirp of birds finding their way to each other, the squeal of distant traffic, the churn of wind through the alley. All of it—all that raucous city noise that used to keep you up all night—feels tranquil now. A serene soundtrack whispering below the rasps of Frankie’s pleasure.

“Wanted to for a long time,” you tell him, before latching again at the top of his other thigh, marking satin skin with a matching brand. “Wanted to touch you so bad.”

He’s gasping now, lungs desperate for air like he’s been running, and his other hand grabs hold of your shoulder to pull you closer. “Would’a—” he wheezes, and lets his head drop back against the couch again like it’s too much to look right at you. “Would’ve let you if I’d—fuck—if I’d known.”

You hum against his leg, reach both hands high enough to dig your thumbs in the crevice of his hips, and Frankie jolts, hissing a strangled fuck before settling again, more liquid than before.

Higher, your mouth climbs, desperate for more of him. Electric with the feeling of his need, the way his hands keep you near to him—thumb sweet on your shoulder, fingertips drawing little circles on your scalp. It’s possible you’ve never liked pleasuring someone so much, and you’ve liked it before. But Frankie responds to your every movement and breath, every change in pressure or place, strung taut as a bow that’s fighting not to snap.

With a final glance up at Frankie, his head hung back to unveil the gold of his throat, the stubble scattered along his jaw, you nuzzle your nose gently against his crotch and feel his cock throb, hitting your cheek.

“Baby,” he whines, hand tightening in your hair.

“I’ve got you,” you coo, and draw your own out of his shorts to hook into the waistband. “Gonna take you out now, is that okay?”

“Fuck—yes—fucking yes it’s okay,” he begs, and the light sting of his hand pulling your hair tighter paints a smile on your face. 

Slowly, you peel down his shorts and find no boxers beneath them, only the heavy length of him which bobs up against his t-shirt, thick and swollen and aching. “No underwear? Frankie,” you tease, and he chuckles hoarsely as you cast his shorts aside.

“Laundry day,” he wheezes, and you click your tongue before scooting forward until your chest presses against the cushions, framed by his legs.

He’s beautiful like this, destroyed but in the good way—dragged out of his head for a while by your dutiful hands, your thumbs digging into the meat of his thighs. His cock leaking and twitching every time the warmth of your breath fans over his soft skin.

With one hand, you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, and the whimper that leaves Frankie’s lips in reply might be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wet your tongue along his length, tasting the earth of him before wrapping your lips around his tip, trading off between suckling and licking.

The hand in your hair locks up suddenly, not moving your head but clamping down hard. You moan softly and he twitches on your tongue. Grows harder, somehow, when a moment ago you’d have thought it impossible.

“Ay,” he croaks. “Fuck—your fucking mouth, baby.”

Perhaps this is what emboldens you, makes you sloppy—just as needy as him. Drool slicking to his length as you bob, drinking in his every moan and babble. Your fist pumping what you can’t take, jaw aching around his girth. Frankie might come apart at the molecules, you think. Evanesce cell by cell, held in the heat of your mouth as you swallow around his length, forcing the head of his cock to the back of your throat.

When you gag, eyes watering, heart a hummingbird in your chest, he makes a desperate whine and his hand tenses on your shoulder. 

You’d stay here the rest of the night, if he’d let you, but he doesn’t.

Frankie thighs twitch, breaths coming faster now, shorter. Close. 

“Necesito sentirte,” he says as he squeezes your shoulder again. “Please—shit, gonna come if you don’t stop—fuck, nena, please let me feel you. Wanna feel you so fucking bad. Wanted you—fuckfuck—wanted you the day you moved in.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you see his hat has tumbled off, leaving the crown of his head a mess of flattened down curls broken up by the occasional stray, and something about how he looks in this moment, fuckedout and gone and desperate, makes you want to stay right where you are. 

Still, you hollow your cheeks as you ease off him with a wet pop, one hand pumping his thick cock while the other rubs his muscled thigh. You shake your head, bottom lip bitten. “Next time,” you promise, with a smirk rich on your lips. Then you’re on him again, throat open and accepting as he teeters on the edge of falling apart. 

“Mmmph, shit—nena, so good, oh my god,” Frankie gasps, hands back in your hair to hold it out of your way. “Gonna make me—fuck, where do I—where do you—”

He doesn’t get the rest out; the moment you slip your hand beneath his balls and sink your lips to the base of his heavy length, taking him to the hilt, Frankie comes with a sudden cry. Warmth pumps down your aching throat as he pants, fingers tangled in your hair, and you swallow it all hungrily while you moan.

He whimpers when you lift off his spent cock to look up at him with a satisfied grin. If you thought he looked ruined before, you were wrong. This is what he looks like when you’ve wrecked him. 

“Come here,” he croaks, then with a grunt Frankie yanks you off the floor and onto his lap to envelope you in his arms. You settle on his thighs, try not to swoon at his strength, and when he kisses you it isn’t at all what you’re expecting—there’s no roar, no taking, not a drop of desperation left in him at all. No, Frankie kisses you wholly, gently, all lithe tongue and sweetness and gratitude, and the longer it goes on the more you both smile, struggling to kiss around laughter and teeth.

When he pulls back, his pupils are still blown but warm too, so warm. His face and beard gilded with late afternoon light. He strokes a thumb across your cheek, then bumps his nose against yours, and you sink against his chest to chase his mouth. Before you can, Frankie's arms lock around your waist; he throws you down onto the couch, pinning you beneath him with a smug little smile.

“This time I get to taste you, hermosa,” he promises, then seals it with a kiss.

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