#her messages and emails from that parent

[bones4thecats]

When Their S/O Meets Their Sibling(s)

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: When Their S/O Meets Their Sibling(s) Characters: Trey Clover, Jack Howl, Jamil Viper, and Rook Hunt Idea-Giver: Random Ideas

A/N: I named Rook's siblings after the pieces of a chess-game as a headcanon! (btw they’re french names)

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🧁 Trey loves his family so much, and he really wanted you to love them just as much as he did, as they’re basically his whole world

🧁 So, when he received a message from his mother stating that they would be dropping by for a couple days for a small break from the family business, much to both his joy and nervousness

🧁 He was nervous that maybe his family wouldn’t like you or you wouldn’t like his family. And if it was the latter, he really didn’t want to break your heart…

🧁 You stood beside him outside of Heartslabyul as he put his phone away, he had read a message from his father saying they had just arrived and were coming to his dorm

🧁 Gripping his hand tightly, your smile made him sigh and kiss the hand holding his with such care and devotion. You really were perfect. How could they not like you?

🧁 As he spoke to his parents as you played with his younger siblings, his sister smiling as you gave her a small rose-spun flower crown as his brother messed around with a little set of toy vehicles you had gotten for Grim to mess with while Yuu busied himself

" I must admit, Trey. I’m surprised how amazing your S/O is handling those two. " " I agree with your mother. They seem so… content with them around. Unlike their last babysitter. I’ve never seen someone so happy to leave. "

🧁 Trey stared at you with his parents and smiled gently, he even had to admit, it was surprising how good you were holding them together. Normally the person watching them would be on the couch rethinking their life-choices, but not you…

🧁 And before his family left after the two days of vacation with their son, hearing his siblings ramble about how amazing you were as they held tiny gifts you had made them, he knew you were the one

🧁 He can’t wait to see your reaction after graduation day

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🐺 He really wanted you to meet his family. To a beastman of his kind, family is everything. They raised you and gave you a chance at life for crying out loud!

🐺 His family and his are very close, and that is shown multiple times throughout your relationship. The way he would smile gently when looking at the photos on his camera roll that contained his grandparents, parents, and younger siblings made your heart swoon

🐺 Because of how close he was with you and how close he was with his family, he was very happy when the ‘Family Day’ was announced to happen

🐺 He immediately had sent an email to his parents with the note that he wanted them to meet you, who was his new S/O, and hopefully his only one

🐺 When they had arrived, their tails all wagged as they hugged, you just smiled as your family walked away to speak to another one of your close friend’s parents, who were visiting him for the next few days to help with P.E. classes while Vargas was away

🐺 His siblings had gotten bored and pulled you away from their older family members, asking you if you had anything fun to do, much to your enjoyment

" Y/N! Lookie what I made! It’s a drawing of you, grandma, grandpa, papa, mama, and big brother! " " Oh, that looks so cute, sweetie. "

🐺 Jack smiled as you gently held the drawings that his younger sister and brother made of you and his family, and once his mother and grandmother caught a glace, they couldn’t stop complimenting how good you looked alongside their son, much to his embarrassment

" You know, your son did a good job picking an S/O. " " I know. Honestly, I figured he’d go for a meat-head. Oh, how wrong was I? "

🐺 His tail wagged slightly as he overheard his grandfather and father speaking to one another, they really liked you? Now he knew for certain that you were a keeper

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🐍 Jamil did not want to deal with his sister coming to Night Raven College, since she was known to be quite hard for him to handle, especially with Kalim there

🐍 When his sister did shoot him a text saying that she was just a couple minutes from school grounds and was planning on coming over after the day was over to see her brother, he groaned and asked her not too

🐍 Unfortunately, she was very stubborn, much like her brother. Not that he admits it

🐍 She did send him a small message saying that she wanted to meet his supposed S/O as well, but he had gotten busy keeping Kalim from jumping from his balcony and onto his magic carpet, so he had no chance to actually read the message

" Y/N! It’s so good to finally meet you. Let me just say my brother doesn’t stop talking about you over summer, it’s gotten annoying. "

🐍 Jamil watched with wide eyes and flushed cheeks as his sister and Kalim began discussing how much Jamil talked about you after your first year’s summer, revealing just how much he admired you back then until current day

" Okay! Let’s not keep this going, it seems that Jamil is flustered~ " " Shut up… "

🐍 Najma smiled and pat her brother’s shoulder with a laugh as she grabbed your hand and dragged you around Scarabia as Jamil followed you, her, and Kalim

🐍 He watched as you would smile and try keeping the two energetic people calmer than usual, thank goodness you had just as much patience as him when it comes to this kind of thing

" My older brother always raves about your eyes, saying they looked like the night and day’s sky, comparing the sun to the sparkles your eyes contain. He’s so cheesy! " " Right? I heard him talk about their selflessness with so much happiness that I thought he was another person! " " Alrighty then! Let’s calm ourselves, I don’t want Jamil erupting like a volcano… " " Aw! They care so much about you, brother! How sweet. "

🐍 The blush on his cheeks erupted at how calm you acted with him, you cared about him that much? Normally whoever discusses with his sister just agree that he’s an oddball

🐍 You really are an amazing person, huh?

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🏹 Rook adores his siblings, both older and younger, very much

🏹 They are fairly similar to him when it comes to personalities, but they are quite different in their own unique ways, his oldest sibling, Leroy (King), for example loves to take photos instead of watch for a while like Rook

🏹 When he received a letter from one of his oldest younger sibling, Chevalier (Knight), saying that they were going to come by and visit him, he smiled and told you immediately, asking if you would care to meet his family

🏹 You just smiled and nodded at his enthusiasm, you knew he cared for his siblings and you very much, so you understood why he wanted you guys to meet badly

🏹 Hugging you from behind as he pressed his hat on your head to protect you from the sun’s strong rays, Rook’s signature smile seemingly was twice as large as he awaited the arrival of his multiple family members

" Rook! "

🏹 Turning around from the bench, Rook laughed with a booming sound as his three younger siblings, Chevalier, Évêque (Bishop), and Pionne (Pawn), jumped into his arms as his older ones, Leroy and Reine (Queen), stood and chuckled

🏹 Reine looked at you and pushed her hair behind her ear as he embraced you. This didn't surprise you, you predicted that all of the Hunt siblings were very affectionate and bold with their actions

" It is a delight to meet you, Y/N! Our brother sends us letters about you constantly! I must admit, it’s sweet to read how kind you are with our unique brother. "

🏹 Hearing that made your heart swoon as Rook nodded and smiled sweetly at his younger siblings, patting their heads as they showed him photos of things they had either caught or had made during the past few days

🏹 He is unique like they say, but he’s your kind of unique, and you wouldn’t change him for the world… despite Grim’s many protests while Yuu holds him back…

🏹 That cat was gonna be the death of you…

[stevieschrodinger]

TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to part Two

Steve leans against Carol's desk, "here are your messages, I fobbed off the Times interview - they're going to email you their questions instead." He's listening to Carol, but he's watching, frowning.

There's a man in his office.

"Lunch call with the Singapore office is on. Your suite for the gala is back from the dry cleaners, it's in your bathroom."

"Right, the gala," Steve answers absently. It's a corner office, lots of glass, so it's impossible to miss the man in his office. The man who is calmly, right now, looking at the framed photo Steve has of his parents. It's basically a prop, Steve never got on with them, but that is not the point. Some random guy is touching Steve's shit.

"And my nine thirty?"

"Had to move it, don't worry, they were fine about it."

"Right," Carol's leaning over the desk now, watching the man right along with Steve, "I assume that's why you had to cancel my nine thirty."

"Uh hu," she's tapping her nails on the top of the desk, and she's so fucking infuriating, if she wasn't so fucking good at her job Steve would have booted her years ago.

"You're going to make me ask aren't you??

Carol gives him a massive shit eating grin, "ask what, sir?"

"Jesus fucking christ," Steve sighs, "who is that in my office."

"Not sure," Carol shrugs, grinning because she's pleased she's being such a dick, "security brought him up," she leans over the desk, whispering like she's imparting a secret, "pretty sure they said something that sounded like FBI."

And then she sits down, tapping at her computer and painting her nails or doing whatever it is she does all day. Harassing mail boys, probably. God she's like a fucking shark, but that what Steve gets, he wanted a competent secretary, what he got was a fucking guard dog.

Steve's not complaining. He'd been weary of hiring a female Alpha and then shoving her behind a desk, but it turns out Carol is terrifyingly efficient and fucking fearless, so it's kind of a win win.

Steve stares at the man in his office for a second longer, trying to figure out what the fuck he's done. he wonders if he's somehow accidentally committed major tax fraud, or something. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the panic spiral is sitting there, looking inviting, anyway.

Steve goes into his office, and the man turns. He's tall, well built, kind of portly with age, maybe, but Steve still wouldn't fuck with the guy. He's not wearing blockers of any sort, so Steve's office now smells of strange, uninvited, Alpha. Great.

"Jim Hopper," he says, extending his hand, "FBI."

"Steve Harrington," Steve replies, even though he's certain it's pointless, this guy knows exactly who he is.

The guy is already producing paperwork as Steve takes his seat on the other side of his desk, "standard non disclosure, Mr. Harrington."

Steve gives it a once over, he's signed enough of these, and been involved with the legal team enough, that he feels confident enough. He signs it, knowing he won't get any answers until he does.

"I'll get right to it, time is tight. I've been working to dismantle an Omega trade ring for nearly eighteen months now. We're almost ready to move, teams are in place, inks drying on the warrants, cells are all picked out."

Steve nods, okay. He knew Omega trade was a thing, a barbaric, highly illegal thing. Human trafficking of the worst form, he gestures for Hopper to continue.

"If we go in now, we will likely get a few of the higher ups, we'll rescue approximately two dozen Omega, it'll be a success." Steve goes to speak, wondering what the fuck this has to do with him, Hopper waves him down, "we've been here before; I've made this mistake once before. If we don't get the people at the top, this thing will grow back in a years time. I want them all."

Steve gets that. His head is spinning a little. He knows things like this go on, you see about it on the news, but it does sound a bit...like a spy movie.

Hopper puts a photograph on Steve's desk, "you know this man?"

And Steve does. They're not what Steve would call friends; more of a good tempered rivalry. And yeah, Steve had Daddy's money, but Tommy had his Daddy's company. They came up at the same time, went after the same deals. Move in the same circles, Steve's known him for years. Steve's disliked him for years, "you're not suggesting Tommy Hagan is...the head of some sort of, human slavery outfit?" Knowing how ruthless Tommy can be, how questionable his methods are...Steve's still struggling to see him as...this.

"I'm not suggesting it. I'm telling you as fact. You've known him a long time, and we have to move fast. The charity gala tonight, you'll both be there."

"Right, sure, but I don't exactly see what I can do about this."

"Hagan moves the...high end product. Very exclusive, very expensive. They keep them at a ranch, just out of state," and that's kind of uncomfortable, because Steve's been to the ranch for a business lunch, so he knows exactly the place Hopper is talking about. And, jesus, Steve had thought at the time Tommy had a lot of Omega staff. A lot of really well behaved Omega staff - at the time, Steve thought Tommy was just being his usual dick self. Just showing off wealth. Fuck, if some of those Omega were actually, like, prisoners- "drop a hint to Hagan, tonight. Tell him you're getting itchy, fancy yourself an Omega. A traditional one, timid. Say whatever you need to say, get yourself an invite out there."

Steve takes a deep breath, nodding. He can do that. He can play that; he might have to wear blockers, his opinion of Tommy is in the gutter on a good day, never-mind this.

"That's all you need?"

Hopper shifts forward in his chair, "look, you're ideal. On the periphery, you've known each other a long time, but not well. He knows exactly the kind of clout you have, your bank balance, you're the perfect person to do this."

It's not hard to find information on Steve Harrington, he's thirty first on the Forbes 100 list, but clearly Hopper, at the very least, has taken notice.

"How do you know I'm not already involved?"

Hopper snorts, "kid. We know. Also, you just asked me that question, and your balls ain't that brassy."

Steve can't deny it, he shrugs, "so, what else?"

"Get an invite. Go there wearing a wire. Meet Tommy, pick an Omega. You'll be trusted; we will fit a listening device. Hagan's wriggled out of this sort of thing before; evidence like that, there'll be no court in the country that won't convict him."

Steve feels awkward. He knows there's a device on him somewhere; Hopper had taken his phone for ten minutes, and brought it back with a different suit jacket for him to wear.

That had been at half five this morning, standing on Steve's back porch. And as he pulls into the ranch, he has the air con on full blast because fucking hell, he's sweaty when he's nervous.

Hopper had made this sound easy; the ranch is pretty safe. Only a couple of armed guards. Plus, he's Steve Harrington; you can't just disappear a guy like Steve.

Hopper had sounded so certain, the cherry of his cigarette bright in the pre dawn mist. He'd even slapped Steve's shoulder, told him he was saving lives. Steve had felt like a fucking super hero for about twenty minutes, until reality and fucking nerves had swamped him.

But here he is, walking up the front steps to the ranch house, Tommy Hagan grinning big, "hope you brought the black card," Tommy jokes as they bro hug.

Because that's not creepy.

Tommy had given Steve a smirk at the Gala last night, was confident he had exactly what Steve was looking for. Knew, for the right price, exactly what would scratch Steve's itch. Not like he was talking about real fucking human beings or anything.

Steve's real glad he went thick on the blockers; he's certain Tommy would be choking on the scent of his disgust by now.

They bring them in during lunch. Steve sitting, eating fucking cornbread and home made slaw and he just can't. He nibbles, feeling sick with nerves. Tommy doesn't even seem to notice. Steve can't help but stare at him, someone he's known most of his life and now...he's been revealed as something vile and subhuman. Steve has to work hard to keep the disgust off his face.

Something that gets even more difficult when the Omega are brought it and lined up, all wearing the same diaphanous nightdresses regardless of gender. Every single one of them could be a contender for the most beautiful thing Steve's ever seen. Every single one of them could be a model, or something.

They're lined up in height order; the last one in, the tallest, a male Omega. He's limping.

He's leaving bloody footprints on the fancy parquet flooring.

Tommy must catch Steve's face, "the unruly ones need to be disciplined, and that one is more...difficult than most. Refuses to learn. And we don't want to damage the product anywhere that'll be visible, obviously."

Steve has to breathe through his nose so he doesn't throw up. All the Omega are wearing blockers; probably because the scent of Omega distress would be so off putting.

Tommy waves a hand, "get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug," and the Omega winces, as he turns. he's got lots of shiny dark curls. Everything about all the Omega is pristine, perfectly maintained hair, nails, flawless skin. The smear of blood on his ankle is even more stark for it, and Steve can't help but stare as the Omega gamely takes what looks like a very painful, shuffling step away again.

"Him," Steve says before he can stop himself, "I want him."

The Omega turns back, looking at Steve with huge, beautiful brown eyes. He's hopeful and fearful all at once, and it tears Steve up inside. He wants to buy all of them, get all of them out of here, but knows he can't. If he does anything to raise suspicion he could fuck the whole thing.

At least he has Hopper's word that the rest of them will be out of here by the end of today.

Tommy scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

Steve wants to swear at Tommy because they're all fucking pretty, ridiculously so, "no, he'll do."

"Oh," Tommy laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Steve is dragged into a very detailed conversation about how to move funds - from where and to where, which Steve does. It's an amount of money that under any other circumstances would make Steve's eyes water - but in the face of a human being in pain, Steve doesn't even blink.

It doesn't feel like Steve takes a breath until he's on the interstate, the Omega curled up on the seat next to him. No possessions, no clothes, no bag.

Nothing.

And that had gutted Steve as much as anything else.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," the Omega answers quietly.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie's just blinking at him.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know."

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie turns and sees the McDonald's, "oh fuck me yes," he breathes with such vehemence that Steve laughs, "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

That kills Steve's laughter stone dead.

Hopper rubs at his forehead, "you were not supposed to buy a human being."

"I know but-" Steve turns, Eddie standing behind him, which on it's own makes Steve wince. Eddie's barefoot on the asphalt, half hidden behind Steve, still wearing nothing but that scrap of white fabric. It's now a little smeared with the fry grease Eddie had shamelessly wiped off his fingers. Steve hands over his phone and the suite jacket.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out."

"He can stay with me." Steve's volunteering before he can really think it though, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off. He did just rescue this Omega after all, he's not just going to abandon him to be alone somewhere. Somewhere that might not even be safe for a lone Omega.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. It's maybe an hour and a half drive back from here, since Steve had to go out of his way for this clandestine meeting in an abandoned car lot.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?"

Eddie seems to think about it for a second, plucking at his nightshirt, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

Steve starts laughing first, then Eddie joins in.

At Eddie's request they get milkshakes on the way home.

[ellieslittlewh0re]

based on this request ♡

𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒓𝒚 - ellie williams x fem reader

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 - degradation/praise, slight dacryphilia, humiliation, public sex/masturbation (?), oral (both reader and e! receiving) fingering (reader receiving) vibrator usage (reader), dom! ellie, sub! reader, name calling (baby, slut, whore)

From anyone else's perspective, it looked like a normal family dinner. Your parents practically begged to visit your and Ellie's home, claiming it was to get a house tour of the new place, but knowing them, it was truly just an excuse to see their baby girl.

Ellie looked as relaxed as ever, making light conversations with your dotting parents, occasionally looking down at her phone that rested on her knee below the table.

No, she wasn't checking her email or responding to a text message; she was adjusting the speed of the bullet vibrator that was lodged deep inside your cunt.

You didn't talk much- you couldn't, only occasionally mumbling a short "mhm" when your parents would ask you questions.

"How's the new job going, do you like your boss okay?"

"M-mhm." You nodded absently, poking around the food on your plate with a fork, pressing your lips hard together to stop the moans building in your throat.

"Did you install those cameras yet? I really don't want anything to happen to you when your home alone, honey." Your mother asked, a sincere worry in her tone, and you couldn't fucking respond, head ditzy from the tingling inside your tummy.

Ellie eyes you from the side, her tongue poking against the inside her cheek to hide back a satisfied grin.

She placed her hand on your upper thigh, squeezing the fat dangerously close to your cunt before turning up the intensity.

You cry out, your head dropping to rest on your forearm on the table, hand squeezing the side of your chair, and your nails digging into the wood.

"What's wrong, baby? Are you sick?" Your mother practically leaps over the table, worried about the state of her only daughter.

Ellie takes this time to answer for you, her hand coming up to stroke your hair.

"Are your cramps back, baby?" She asks, sounding so sweet and concerned.

It was all bull shit.

In your mothers eyes, Ellie was the perfect angel, the only one who she trusted to take care of and love her daughter they way you deserved.

And your father?

He loved Ellie. He loved having a daughter-in-law that would work on the car with him, help him build furniture and other dirty jobs.

Oh how well Ellie had them fooled.

They didn't know her like you did; they didn't know about the positions she'd put you in, fucking you so deep and rough that it left you bedridden for the next couple of days.

You felt the bubbling, tightening feeling building in your tummy, and you were close. Your legs started to quiver, your toes curling inside your white laced socks that were propped against the legs of your chair.

"E-excuse m-me." Your breath is shaky as you stand, using the table to brace yourself before retreating down the hall, closing yourself in the bathroom.

Back at the table, Ellie excuses herself to "go check on you."

What a sweetheart.

Your hands latch onto the sides of the sink, your head dropping low between your shoulders.

You interlock your ankles, squeezing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to ease your building orgasm when Ellie enters, shutting the door and positions herself behind you.

Her fingers dig into your hips as she grinds herself against your ass. Your back arches upon instinct, feeling her crotch against you.

She uses her fingers to rid the hair that covered your neck, leaving an opening for her lips to paint the maroon-ish splotches that she loved seeing so much. She just had to mark you, let everyone know that your hers, and you didn't want it any other way.

A whine finally escapes your lips as suckled the sensitive skin, purposefully grazing the area with her teeth.

"El-Ellie.." you whined in the pretty pitch that Ellie fucking went feral over, knowing only she could get you all needy like this.

Her hand rubbed down your back and over your ass, squeezing harshly. You whine some more, feeling your lips part as she tugs at the flesh, already coated in a sticky mixture that was starting to dripple down your legs.

"Fuck- I can hear how wet you are. You poor thing." Ellie mocked, getting off by her own choice of words as she sunk her teeth into your neck once again.

A gasp leaves your mouth, pressing your back to feel her on you in any way you could. She holds you tightly, her arms enclosing around your waist, and her hand caressing over your breast. She squeezes, and draws a whine from you when she tugs at your hardened peak through the thin fabric.

You moan her name, and grind your ass against her, not really caring how pathetic you look- you just needed her to touch you.

"Pleasepleaseplease.." you begged for her help, knowing she's the only one who can fuck you the way you wanted to be fucked. The vibrator inside you was not enough by itself, only ever slightly bumping against your sweet spot.

"What baby? You want to cum, huh? Is that it? You're such a slut.. begging for me to touch you." Ellie voice oozed arousal, breathy and hungry for a taste.

She had you just where she wanted you, shaking and dumb, like putty in her hands.

She turned you around and her lips met yours, she slowly kissed you, but occasionally backed away to watch you chase her lips. She'd give you so little, her lips barely grazing yours while you went completely feral, wanting- needing to taste her.

"elliee.." you cry her name, your eyebrows knitted together, and your eyes glassed over from the tears that threatened to spill.

Ellie smiled at you, a sinister smile that made your skin erupt into goosebumps; her hand came up to your jaw, holding it in place and smushing your cheeks together.

"Use your words, baby." She pressed herself against you, completely caging you between her and the sink.

You couldn't escape even if you wanted to.

"W-wanna cum, please.." A tear slipped past your lash line, trailing down your cheek, and Ellie finally decided to take pity on you; how could she not? You're so pretty when you cry.

A guttural growl emits from Ellie's throat, and her fingers come down to the waistband of your shorts, yanking them away along with your panties.

The cool air brushed against your slick coated cunt and thighs, making you yelp upon impact.

Ellie bites down on her bottom lip upon seeing your glistening cunt, seeing how wet you were for her- how fucking wrecked you were before she even touched you.

"Fuck... all for me?" She asked rhetorically, almost to herself as she slipped a finger between your folds, just watching how your slick coated them and how your thighs shook uncontrollably.

She was calm and collected, at least that's what she wanted to portray. On the inside she was burning, and holding herself back from tearing you apart.

You on the other hand? Not so much. You felt dizzy and lightheaded, using Ellie's stature and sink to keep your knees from giving out on you.

You look up at Ellie with desperation, a half-hooded and lazy gaze and a pout on your spit coated lips, slightly parted as little breaths escape them.

She closes the empty space between your two, this time- fully kissing you the way you've been begging for, rough and messy, as her tongue explores the spongy walls of your mouth.

She moans into the kiss, impatiently tugging up your shirt by the hem and cupping your breast with her calloused fingers.

She breaks the kiss, slightly panting, and you follow her eyes. They were dark and narrowed, almost threatening, as she lowered herself to her knees.

Your jaw hung open, her eyes never leaving yours as she placed her hands in your thighs, spreading you out further before flat-lining her tongue over your core.

You moan, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you mumble curses to yourself. Her warm tongue worked skillfully over your leaking cunt, lapping up your juices without shame.

Your place your hand on her head, tightening your fingers against her skull as she flicked her tongue over your clit.

You felt your orgasm building at a rapid pace, vibrating throughout your fingers down to your toes. Ellie chuckles into you, her finger slipping inside to push the vibrator further into your pussy. You take a sharpe inhale, feeling it grind and pulsate where you needed it to, her tongue relentlessly flicking your clit.

"Fuck.. fuck- ohmygod els, m' gonna cum." You say breathless, suppressing your cries to the best of your abilities.

"gonna cum all over my mouth, huh? You like having an audience? fuckin' slut-" she growled between licks, entranced and drunk on your taste, slick running down her chin and neck.

"Fuckfuckfuck-" and just that that, you come undone, clenching and tightening as you held her in place, grinding against her tongue.

She pulls away, wiping her mouth the the back of her hand before pulling out her phone. The vibrating inside you came to a stop, her fingers grabbing the hot pink cord and carefully pulling it out of you.

You were left breathless, panting as your body started to dull. She pulled your shorts up as she stood, her hand finding your neck and squeezed it as she kissed you, her tongue swirling around yours.

You moan into her open mouth as you tasted yourself, not noticing her hand unbuckling her jeans.

Your eyebrow slightly furrow in confusion as she pulls down her pants and boxers, letting them fall to her ankles. She barely gave you any time to comprehend, her hands pushing you down to your knees by your shoulders.

"You got me all worked up, baby. You gonna put that pretty mouth of yours to use?" She questions, but not in away that sounded like you had a choice- not that you would ever pass up such an opportunity.

You swallow your tongue as you became eye level with her cunt. You look up at here through your eyelashes, lips parted in arousal upon seeing how wet she was, and it was all because of you.

Ellie would never let herself show how needy she was, instead she'd shove your face into her pussy, holding you there until you couldn't breath. You didn't even have time to tease her- to place kisses to her bundle of nerves like you wanted to. You simply stuck out your tongue as she thrusted her hips on your face, fisting your hair to the point it stung.

She grunted as she worked harder and faster against your mouth, her eyebrows pinched tighter as the sensation built in her stomach, jaw clenching and relaxing as breathy moans part her lips.

Small whimpers vibrated in her cunt from your own mouth, being turned on by your girlfriend using you like a toy to get herself off.

Your hand snakes past your waistband and your panties. You moan into her as you rub tight circles around your clit, bouncing slightly against your fingers.

The sight of you by itself was bordering porno level, and to be honest, Ellie wished she had thought of that before because she'd definitely film it and rewatch it whenever you were away from her for too long.

"You're such a whore.. m-hmm- fuck.. can't ever get enough, can you?"

You shake your head no at her in a pout, denying her words that were definitely true, after all, she knew you best.

Her hand released on your scalp, coming back to brace against the sink as her hips sputtered. Her eyes squeeze shut and her head falls back, muttering curses and shameful words as she reached her peak.

You pull away from her cunt, and rest your forehead against her thigh, too fucking brain dead to focus on anything else besides your fingers on your clit.

Split pooled from the corner of your parted lips, heavy, hallow breaths tickled Ellie skin as you cum on your fingers.

You slowly lift yourself off the tiled floor, bruises surely to appear in the following days. Ellie pulls her pants up, and buckled her belt.

Her hands meet your face, cupping it gently as her thumb wipes away the spit and cum mixture that still lingered.

She leaned down to kiss you, pulling away so her lips hovered over your ear.

"I'll deal with your parents- wait for me in the bedroom."

[sugarandspisces-writes]

Kiss It Better Pt. I

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Summary: Melissa engages in a game of kickball with her students and takes a nasty tumble. With the help of her colleagues, she makes her way to you, the school nurse.

Word Count: 4.6k

CW/TW: Mentions of hospitals and injuries

Although Melissa was a seasoned teacher, sometimes it was challenging to get into the swing of things after a nice vacation. While she was used to instructing two classes, the job still came with its fair share of tough days. The holiday break was much needed, considering it gave her time to recuperate from the first semester.

Originally, she hadn’t planned on going anywhere, and was fully content with spending two weeks at home with her feet kicked up. That was until she heard you complaining about the brutal winter weather. You weren't native to the north, and though you'd lived there for some time, you hadn't adjusted to the seasonal changes.

The more you mentioned it, the more she realized the feeling was mutual. She decided it wouldn't hurt to ring in the New Year differently, so the two of you brainstormed destinations and settled on a spur-of-the-moment trip to Florida. She had a guy who could get her discounted plane tickets and a hotel room for little to nothing. Before she knew it, she was getting sunkissed on Palm Beach. She’d be making a ton of ziti to return the favor, but the bottomless margaritas and adrenaline-filled nights at the casino were more than worth it.

It was now a week later and with her mind still on island time, she hoped for a relaxed first day back. The class was rowdy when they arrived, but that was to be expected. They were excited to be with each other after a couple of weeks away, but luckily they could themselves down without much of her guidance. So far the day was going well, and she was teaching her last morning lesson before recess.

The class was reading silently, making it the perfect time to catch up on some emails. Most of them were from parents, but she had one from Ava with the schedule of upcoming meetings for the remainder of the year. The first one was tomorrow morning meaning she had to wake up extra early.

She rolled her eyes, and the expression only intensified as she skimmed through the rest of the message. According to the principal, breakfast would be provided. However, the last time Ava promised to provide food, the “breakfast” in question was fun-sized boxes of cereal from the cafeteria. She would definitely need her extra-large Stanley Tucci mug to get through tomorrow morning.

She had one last email to read and was delighted to see your name attached to it. The message was marked as a priority, declaring the content to be urgent. It was a reminder for all teachers, asking them to collect and return the forms the students received before the break. As the school nurse, part of your job was ensuring that the kids had updated health records on file.

As for Melissa's class, just about everyone remembered to have their guardians fill out your forms, and she planned to give them to you later today. That prompted her to text you so she could see what your schedule looked like.

M: Hey, I’ll bring those forms to you during my planning period

↪ You sure? I don't mind stopping by your class later

You knew someone was bound to forget to deliver the forms, so you’d have to snag them at the end of the day.

M: I’ll bring them, hon. One less trip you’ll have to make.

Truthfully, the redhead wanted an excuse to see you, and her planning period conveniently took place when your day came to a lull.

↪ Thanks! You’re amazing!! 

Melissa’s lips curled upward at your compliment.

M: I might sit with you for a few when I come down. Is that okay?

She was considerate of your job, and no matter how much she wanted to see you during the day, she never wanted to interfere with your work.

↪ Of course that’s okay. You’re always welcome. Just let me know when you’re headed down

For the most part, your relationship was under wraps. Everyone who needed to know was informed, and everyone else was left to assume. And assume they did, because your affinity for each other was a hot topic around the school. Abbott loved to talk, but Melissa had eyes and ears all over–literally.

She’d become acquaintances with a couple members of the camera crew, and their knowledge combined with Barb’s allowed her to obtain information from virtually every square inch of the building. Just about everything that was said made its way back to the source. However, it didn’t bother either of you. If anything, it was amusing, and you found fun in keeping everyone guessing.

Engaged in her reverie, Melissa didn't notice the child standing directly beside her until the small voice spoke. “Ms. Schemmenti.”

Startled by their presence, she nearly jumped out of her seat. A hand clutched at her chest causing the young girl to laugh. “Jeez, Mya!” 

“Sorry.” She motioned toward the clock on the opposite side of the room. “Isn't it time for recess?

Melissa looked to where her student was pointing and saw it was 11:20 AM. Crap. They were supposed to be gone five minutes ago. She thanked the girl for telling her, then stood up to alert everyone else.

"Alright, my little eagles, it’s time for recess! We’re a little late because I got distracted, but you guys aren’t surprised, right?” A unison of “no” echoed around the room. “That was a rhetorical question, but thank you for the enthusiastic responses.”

She answered queries about the meaning of ‘rhetorical’, while everyone got their coats on. It was considerably cold, but not cold enough for the school to cancel outside activities. Melissa didn’t mind since this was her kid’s way of getting their energy out and she always made sure everyone had enough clothing on to protect them from the chill.

Once everyone was ready, they walked down the hall in formation. Melissa’s class was large, and while it could be hard to wrangle them all, they did a pretty good job at keeping each other in check. 

“I can’t believe we lost a whole 5 minutes,” Daniel whined from the back of the line. It was quiet, but Melissa still heard, so she slowed her steps to meet him once he strolled by.

She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry, buddy. I’ll make it up to you, okay?” When he didn’t respond she spoke again. “How about this? I’ll do a class vote, and then youse can decide what I owe you.”

Even though the boy accepted her apology, he still hung his head low. Melissa squeezed his shoulder for good measure, then let him free as they approached the doors that led outside.

“Melissa!” Janine shouted, waving the redhead over to her. “I was looking for you guys. What happened?”

“Hey, kid. I was reading emails and lost track of time.” Melissa explained as she walked over to the second grade teacher.

“I had a lot of those too! Did you see Ava sent that one email, like, three times? It was so weird,” she laughed and Melissa agreed. “I bet your kids were sad about being late, huh?”

“You shoulda seen their faces when I told them they lost some time,” Melissa shared. “I might as well have told them Santa wasn’t real.”

Janine stuck her bottom lip out in a pout, knowing the exact look Melissa was referring to. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m still getting used to the flow of things too. The first day back is always a little rocky for me.”

“I’m usually okay, but I don’t know what happened today.” Melissa shrugged, looking off into the distance (Except she knew exactly what happened, and it was you).

“Well, they seem pretty happy now that they’re out here, so that’s good,” Janine noted.

“Yeah, but I’m sure I’ll be making it up to them for the next few weeks.” Melissa sighed and Janine nodded in agreement, knowing how relentless kids could be.

“Oh, one of your students is coming over here. I spoke too soon, it looks like he has a bone to pick with you.” She nudged the woman in her side.

Melissa narrowed her eyes before turning toward the student. “Hey, Daniel. What’s up?”

“Can you please play with us?” The little boy asked politely.

She looked across the playground and saw a group of students eyeing her expectantly. She couldn’t deny that it tugged at her heartstrings to see them so eager. However, playing with them wasn’t exactly on the agenda today.

“Oh, I don’t know, hon. There isn't much time left, and I’m sure you don’t want me slowing your game down.”

“Please, we really want you to play. And you said you’d make it up to us, remember?” He reminded her. 

This wasn’t her ideal way of making it up, but when Melissa looked down at the boy’s big, hopeful eyes, she couldn’t say no. She looked toward Janine and of course, she was looking at her with just as much expectation as the kids. The next thing Melissa knew, she was involved in a lively kickball game.

“Ms. Schemmenti, Ivy’s cheating!” Tyler yelled as soon as Melissa stepped up to the makeshift base. “I caught the ball, so that means she’s out!”

“I’m not cheating! The ball slipped out of your hands, so I’m still in the game!” Ivy yelled back at him.

“Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater!” He teased. “You’re out!”

Melissa knew that it wouldn’t be an elementary school game if there wasn’t a little drama, but she had to hold her laughter back as she listened to their banter. “Okay, that’s enough, guys. Now, Tyler, tell me what happened again.”

“Ivy kicked the ball and I caught it, so that means she’s out.” He explained to her.

Instead of handling the situation herself, she decided to play the mediator. “Okay, How many people saw Tyler catch the ball?” Almost everyone raised their hand, so she turned to the girl to give her a sad smile. “Sorry, hon. You gotta follow the rules.”

“No fair!” The girl crossed her arms over her chest and began to stomp away.

Before she got far, Melissa gave the child a proposition. “Hey, how about I let you run the bases for me? That way you can stay in the game.” Quite frankly, she wasn’t in the running mood, and due to the cold, her joints were stiff. She also didn’t want the child to be in a bad mood for the rest of the day. This way, everyone got what they wanted.

“Deal!” Her mood instantly changed, and Melissa received a wide grin and a high five.

“All right, Ivy’s gonna run for me.” She announced to the group.

“I think that’s against the rules.” Someone piped up from behind her.

“Well, I’ve got a bad knee, so I ain’t running anywhere.” The teacher emphasized her point by wagging her index finger from side to side.

“Well, Ms. Schemmenti, you did say we have to follow the rules.” Ivy recited the woman's recent words.

Melissa closed her eyes and released a sigh at the girl's remark, now regretting using that exact phrase. “Alright, Alright.” The teacher relented. As much as she wanted to disagree with the girl, she was right, and it would be unfair to go against her word. “I’ll run, but go easy on me.” 

“Okay, everyone get into position!” Tyler yelled, alerting his classmates that the game was about to start. He rolled the ball down to the teacher, and the woman gave her best kick without using her full power. They were undoubtedly faster than her, but she was certainly stronger, and everyone needed a fair shot. 

She then ran to first base and was pleased with herself at how quickly she got there. She hadn’t played a game like this in a while, so it was gratifying to see that she still could. The confidence boost allowed her to make it past the next two bases. Tyler hurled the ball in an attempt to get her out, and she dodged it.

Melissa soon realized that was a mistake once she tripped. The heel of her boot got caught on an uneven patch of grass and she failed to regain balance. Her ankle rolled inward and she collapsed with a thud. A series of gasps filled the air, and within seconds she was surrounded by concerned children. They were too scared to touch her, but that didn’t stop them from getting help.

“Teacher down! Teacher down!” A shrill voice shouted at the top of their lungs.

While Melissa was thankful for the effort, she was unhappy about the attention she now received. Embarrassment was an emotion she rarely felt, but today it was warranted. Listening to her students' frantic chatter gave her something to focus on other than the blush burning her face. 

“Okay, let’s back up! Give Ms. Schemmenti some space, please!” Janine's voice of reason rang through all the chatter.

The kids inched away, but only far enough so Janine could have access. It was clear they were protective of their teacher, as they wouldn't take their eyes away for a second in case something were to happen.

Janine held her hand over her mouth as she kneeled in front of the woman. “Oh my God, Melissa! What happened? Are you okay? Can you get up?”

Once the crowd dissipated some, the woman felt she could move freely. She sat up, dusted her hands off, then brushed the debris from her clothes.

“M’fine,” she muttered in response to Janine’s frantic questioning.

“Are you sure? You fell pretty hard.” Janine noted her flushed cheeks and she could only imagine how she felt. Being that she’d embarrassed herself countless times, she had an idea, though she’d never been in this exact situation.

Melissa smoothed her hair back into place, ignoring the sympathetic look on the younger woman’s face. The expression made her want to crawl into a hole and never return. “Thank you for that riveting statement.” 

She reached out for Janine’s hand, a silent invitation for her assistance, and felt herself being tugged into an upright position. She hadn't felt it at first, but once she planted her right foot on the ground, a searing pain shot through it. Reflexively, her arm slung across the shorter woman’s shoulder to keep herself steady. She hissed, then hung her head low in an attempt to conceal the pain on her face. 

“What’s wrong?” Anxiety laced the junior teacher’s voice, but Melissa just ignored her, unable to simultaneously be in pain and answer questions. She took another step, thinking she could walk it off, but she was sorely mistaken. A groan slipped from her mouth and the sound shocked her as much as it did Janine. 

The latter's steps halted, almost causing the injured woman to topple over. “Okay, you’re obviously hurt. I think you should go see Y/N.”

At the mention of your name, the redhead straightened her posture. There was no way in hell she would go to your office and interrupt your day for something minor like this. She wasn't bleeding or dying, so she wouldn't have you fussing over her when you had students to care for. “I'll be okay. I just need to make it to my classroom.”

Janine bit the inside of her cheek, a telltale sign that her worry was increasing. “I don’t know, Melissa. I think you should let them take a look at it.” 

She tried to stand on her own to prove a point, but she simply couldn’t do it. The pain only grew with her efforts, and tears began to prick at her eyes. “Just let me sit down for a bit, okay? I’ll go see Y/N after lunch if it still hurts.”

Janine settled for the compromise and recruited a teacher to watch their kids while she got Melissa inside. It was a challenging effort, but miraculously, they made it back safely. They received a few strange looks from other staff members, but Janine warded their concerns away with a smile. Once they arrived, she helped Melissa get settled at her desk.

“Don’t worry about your class, I’ll bring them back,” Janine assured her. “Do you need anything while I’m here? I could get Barbara if she’s–”

Melissa immediately shook her head. The very last thing she needed was for Barb to find out. “That's okay.” 

Janine gave a wary look in return, as she wasn’t expecting her coworker to deny that offer. “Are you sure?”

She huffed, sick of the questions, and took a beat before answering. “Just bring my kids back, please. That’s all I need right now.”

She wasn’t in any position to argue with that, so she accepted the task. “Okay, I’ll have them back in no time.”

“Thanks, pipsqueak,” Melissa said, causing the woman to take on a disgruntled look. Though she wasn't happy about the circumstances, she switched her tone to show her true appreciation. “Really, Janine, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, happy that she could complete a good deed for the day.

Moments later, Melissa was reunited with her rambunctious class. They came pouring in, not even bothering to take their coats off as they filled the empty space around her desk. Despite the considerable change in climate, they were too invested in her situation to care. 

“We heard you fell.”

“Are the second graders in trouble?”

“Did you break your leg?!”

“Are you going to the hospital?”

“Who’s gonna take us to lunch?”

She broke her silence to address the last comment. “Really, Elijah? That’s what’s on your mind?” 

“I’m sorry, Ms. S, but I’m starving.” He rubbed his belly in broad strokes.

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna get to lunch on time.” While that was great news, it only answered one of their burning questions. They continued to stare her down and she caved at the sincerity. “I know I probably scared some of you, but I’m okay. My leg is not broken, and no, I will not be going to the hospital. Most importantly, no one is in trouble, capisce?”

When she received answers of understanding, she moved on to the next order of business. “Now, let me see who’s gonna walk youse to lunch.”

“Ms. Teagues can take us, or Mrs. Howard!” A student announced excitedly, waving in the direction of the door where both teachers were standing. However, Melissa was so focused on consoling her class and making sure they got fed, that she didn’t notice their presence.

She tried to roll toward the class phone, but it was on the opposite side of the desk. The feat was too large, so she grabbed her cell instead. She scrolled to Janine’s contact, internally swearing that this would be the last favor she asked of her. “Mrs. Howard might be busy, hon, so I think Ms. Teagues is our best bet.”

Elijah grabbed the woman’s attention again. “No, she's not. Mrs. Howard is right there.” He nodded toward the outskirts of the crowd. 

Barbara’s deep eyes shone with concern as they met Melissa’s, but the redhead could only scrunch her face in confusion. What the hell? she thought, but it all made sense once she saw Janine sporting a guilt-ridden expression.

Her lips thinned into a smile as she tried to keep her composure. “Ms. Teagues, do you mind taking them to lunch? I’d appreciate it so much.”

Janine knew what that look meant, so she was quick to speak. “Not at all! Come on guys, grab your lunches if you brought one today.” Once everyone was ready, they made a swift exit because she didn't want to face Melissa’s wrath.

As the last footsteps trickled out, quiet fell over the teachers. Barbara’s eyes never left her best friend, inspecting her from head to toe, watching as Melissa twiddled her thumbs. It irked Barb that she wasn’t paying the slightest attention and she would not tolerate being blatantly ignored. “Melissa Schemmenti! Are you going to tell me what's going on?”

Melissa proceeded to avoid eye contact. She picked up a pen along with a stack of papers as if she were about to grade them. Her petulance sent Barb over the edge. If she didn’t want to tell her, that was fine, but she was tired of this little game.

“You know, I was trying to give you a chance to tell me yourself, but it seems you would rather act like a child.” The woman smirked, knowing her next words would get a reaction. “Janine already told me what happened.”

“I told her to keep her mouth shut!” Melissa curled her hands into fists and banged them against the wood. “I’m gonna kill that girl!”

“Not with one working ankle, you won’t,” Barbara quipped.

“I'll find someone to do it for me.” She shot back, not in the mood for jokes.

Barbara just rolled her eyes, disregarding her friend's dramatic nature. “So what’s your plan? Are you going to roll around in this chair all day?”

“Just leave it alone, will you?” Melissa was getting tired of the third degree from everyone. If she wanted to sit in her room all day, why did it matter to them? It was her injury, not theirs.

“I will not leave it alone! Not until you go see Y/N.”

She looked the older woman directly in her eyes for the first time today. “I’m not goin’, Barb.”

“You will, or I’ll tell them to come to you. Better yet, I'll drag you to an urgent care.” Barbara crossed her arms and gave Melissa a daring look.

“Oh, now you’re out of your mind,” Melissa scoffed. Even though they were in her classroom, if she could get up and walk away, she’d leave Barb right there with her delusions.

The woman gasped audibly at the insinuation that she was crazy. “Trust me, you haven’t seen me out of my mind.”

“You sure? 'Cause that sounds pretty insane to me.” She twisted her pen in a circle near her head, showcasing how absurd the idea sounded.

“No, Melissa, what's insane is you sitting here with an injury, making no attempts to seek medical attention, when there's a perfectly capable nurse in the building!” Her hands moved fervently as she spoke, the pearls around her neck rattling from the action. “Since you won't go on your own, I’ll get someone to take you.” With that, she marched out of the room, having had enough of her obstinacy.

“Barb, don’t you dare!” She yelled, but there was no use as the woman was halfway down the hall due to the speed she was walking.

She groaned in frustration, not faring well with having one working foot. The dull ache was a constant reminder of what occurred, and though she knew it was in her best interest to see you, she wasn't in enough pain to seek your help. But leave it to her colleagues to put their noses into her business.

She reached for her purse and rifled through it before pulling out a compact mirror. If she was going to be seen in this state, she wanted to make sure she looked presentable. As she met her reflection, she frowned. Her hair was out of place, her eyelashes were wonky, and there were a few spots where her makeup had smudged. She fixed what she could, applying lip gloss to finish her look. As she ran a brush through her strands, footsteps approached her room.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” She threw her head back as Gregory came through her door. “Why are you here?”

Gregory almost looked as confused as her, and as he prepared to speak, Barb cut him off.

“To escort you to Y/N's office.” She smiled kindly, directing her pearly whites in Gregory's direction.

Melissa side-eyed the man, adding a mean mug to show her dismay. “But Barb, I don't need—”

“Ah, ah, no buts." She held a hand up to silence her. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go teach, but I expect you to have your injuries mended when you return.” She didn't walk away until she received final confirmation from Gregory.

“Oh, yeah, I'll make sure of it,” he promised. Though he was content with minding his business, he'd only agreed to this because Barb wouldn't take no for an answer.

Melissa sighed as the man moved to stand behind her, in preparation to wheel her out. She turned around so he could understand the grave meaning behind her words. “Just take me there. Don't ask any questions and don't tell anyone what you saw.”

“Oh, I already know how you roll.” After receiving another dirty look from the redhead, he noticed his poor choice of words. He tucked his lips into his mouth, then bowed his head before saying, “I'm sorry.”

You didn’t expect the first day back to be so crazy, but it had been jam-packed with injuries. Nose bleeds, headaches, fevers, stomach aches, you name it. You didn’t mind though because it made the day go faster. You had one more student to tend to before your break, so you decided to clean your office before their arrival. You disinfected the cots and countertops, as well as your little waiting area, and then you took inventory of your supplies and stocked up on whatever you’d need for the last half of the day.

“Hey, nurse Y/N!” Melissa’s student, Daniel, waved excitedly as he entered your office. He gave you a quick hug before retreating to his original spot.

“Hey, buddy! How was your break?” You loved hearing about what the kids did during their time off. He told you about the trip he took to visit family in New York, and how he got to spend the holidays with his grandmother who he hadn’t seen since he was a baby. He also mentioned all the good food he ate and the presents he received. “That’s awesome! It sounds like you had a great time.”

“Yeah, it was pretty great. What did you do?” The curious boy asked.

“I went to Florida,” you said casually, hoping to get a reaction out of him. When he gasped in shock, you flashed a grin in his direction.

“No way! That’s so much cooler than New York.” Daniel was infatuated with Florida, on the account of Disney World, and he made it known that he would save every penny ever given to him in hopes of being able to afford a ticket to the attraction.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t go see Mickey Mouse without you.” You knew the question was on the tip of his tongue. “But it was a pretty cool trip.”

“Ms. Schemmenti went to Florida too!” He informed you, still looking at you with stars in his eyes. 

You smiled as he told you the bits and pieces that Melissa shared with his class, minus the details of her gambling adventures. However, you weren’t sure she left out 100% of the details, because Daniel recalled her saying that she would incorporate some new card games into their math lessons to “teach them some new strategies”. Leave it to Melissa to teach her students how to outsmart each other.

“It sounds like she had a lot of fun!” You exclaimed, taking in the events as if you weren’t there to experience them firsthand. Her students were ridiculously smart, so you were ready for him to catch on to the similarities in your story, but he didn’t. 

You busied yourself with preparing his medication so he could make his way to the cafeteria. Daniel had cystic fibrosis, so he took pancreatic enzymes to aid his absorption of nutrients. He took them before every meal and snack, so he was a frequent flyer in your office. “Alright, dude, I got your pills ready. You just need to get some water.” He gladly accepted the paper cup from your hand and walked toward the water fountain. 

You looked around the room as he took his meds, and the absence of another child caught your attention. Normally, Melissa utilized the buddy system to ensure that her students made it to their destination safely. “Did you walk here by yourself?” 

“No, Ms. Teagues walked us to lunch today.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in pure confusion. “Why was Ms. Teagues taking you to lunch?”

“Ms. Schemmenti hurt herself so she couldn't take us,” he explained.

Hearing Melissa’s name in the same breath as the word ‘hurt’ made your heart rate pick up, but you kept a poker face. “Really? How’d that happen?”

A guilty expression crossed his face, and he released a deep breath before speaking. “Well, we were playing kickball during recess and she fell. It was kind of scary, but then she got up and everything was okay. At least I think she’s okay.”

“What makes you say that?” You tried to get as much information as you could before the bell rang, signaling that it was time for the younger kids’ lunch. 

“She told us she wasn’t in pain, but I don’t think that’s true.”

You hadn’t assessed the woman yet, but you agreed with his statement because you knew how Melissa was. She worked hard to keep up her tough persona, but even the students could see past it sometimes. “You guys really roughed her up out there, huh?”

The boy shrugged sheepishly. “We didn’t mean for her to get hurt. She’s one of our favorite teachers, and we just wanted to have some fun.”

You could see he truly felt bad, so you attempted to cheer him up. “It was very nice of you guys to include her. I’m sure she appreciated that.” You smiled. “Don’t feel too bad, okay?”

He nodded, and with that, the bell rang. You walked him to the exit and sent him on his way, but now without a hug goodbye. “Have a good lunch. I’ll see you later for a snack.” 

Once he made it down the hallway, you focused on the sight directly to your left: Melissa sitting in her desk chair with Gregory at her side, standing against the wall, as if he were her bodyguard (though that would be a pointless duty because everyone knew Melissa didn’t need a guard).

You motioned them into your office so they'd be out of the crossfire of hungry kids. The pair looked at you with blank faces, and you stared at them with your hands on your hips. “Well, what do we have here?”

A/N: Hey, how are ya? It’s been a while and I’ve missed writing immensely. I'm a little nervous about posting again, but I hope this was worth the wait. Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading! P.S. Special thanks to everyone who voted on the poll <3

[dead-dove-yandere]

Yandere teacher x principal reader

I had a teacher OC already but I thought he’d maybe be too similar to Dr. Hart so I was never going to write about him - thank you anon for giving me an excuse to write about him 🙌

OC Intro - Professor Moore

Tutor Yandere

Male ♡ 35 ♡ Human ♡ Teacher

TW: Stalking, obsession, implied kidnap, murder

♡ - When you hired him as the new Head English Teacher at your school, you were delighted - Professor Moore seemed perfectly qualified in every way.

♡ - He had plenty of prior experience and gleaming references, he was superbly qualified in English and, of course, he simply had the most charming manners during the interview. He was the obvious choice, and you hired him straight away.

♡ - He was popular among many of the female students, being fairly young g for a teacher as well as attractive, but you’d never admit that out loud for the sake of professionalism.

♡ - He was a joy to have in staff meetings, offering helpful suggestions to aid the students’ learning and insightful comments as to where the students were at now.

♡ - Eventually, you found yourself becoming friends with him when you both took lunch in the staff room. He was a wonderfully erudite conversationalist, and you both always learned something from each other.

♡ - That’s why it seemed so odd that such a perfect teacher suddenly started acting strangely.

♡ - You feared the worst at first, that perhaps he was somehow mistreating his students, but none of them seemed to be hurt or upset by him - on the contrary, many seemed to enjoy his class.

♡ - But he continued to act strangely. He took far more notes than was normal in staff meetings. He’d slip in and out of the staff room at random intervals and never mention where he’d been. Sometimes, there’d be strange marks on his hands or arms. He was nearly always in the school library, but when you saw him, he almost never read what you’d expect an English teacher to read, but books on all kinds of subjects; history, engineering, chemistry. Like he was studying for something of his own.

♡ - One day, you were feeling unwell with a terrible migraine. Normally, as principal, it was your job to lead assemblies, but you asked Professor Moore if he could fill in for you. He agreed far too readily.

♡ - As you sat at the back of the hall, listening to his assembly, he went on this strange speech about devotion and loyalty and how in order to get what you wanted, you had to work for it. The assembly didn’t have a core message you disagreed with - but he seemed fanatical, his voice raising with excitement and his eyes growing wide.

♡ - The other teachers exchanged confused glances.

♡ - It came to a head when, after a troublesome student was pulled into your office, her parents decided to yell at you - after all, how dare the principal accuse their precious child of misbehaving?

♡ - When they finally left your office, Professor Moore came to your office with some tissues and a shoulder to cry on. He listened sympathetically as you told him of your concerns and how the student’s parents were going to get themselves into a lot of trouble if they let their child run riot.

♡ - It wasn’t long before your prophecy inadvertently came true - you heard that the troublesome student’s parents had been found dead - leaving the poor troubled student an orphan.

♡ - It wasn’t long before Summer break began, and worried for your students’ safety, you closed the school early since the deaths seemed suspicious. You stayed behind, the last one there to lock up.

♡ - As you cleared your desk for Summer and finished an explanatory email to all the parents, you hear a soft knock on your door and Professor Moore enters with a friendly smile.

♡ - He offers you a lift home - after all, it isn’t all that safe if nearly a whole family could get killed like that, and you two are friends after all.

♡ - You nod and agree, relieved that someone you trust will make sure you get home safe and sound. You willingly follow him straight into his car.

♡ - It isn’t until Summer Holiday is over that anyone realises that you’ve gone missing.

Personality

Stern and serious, he knows that it takes hard work to get what one wants, as he endlessly reminds his students. That’s why he’ll never give up trying to get closer to his darling. He takes a far more subtle approach than most yanderes, fabricating and manipulating situations in order to have as much time as possible alone with his darling. He prefers to play the long game. Of course, that isn’t to satisfy he won’t get his hands dirty if he needs to, but he’ll clean up immaculately after himself. Not a speck of evidence shall be left behind - he’s far too experienced to make an amateur mistake like that.

The troubled student is Cayce, Dead Dove Interconnected Universe Confirmed

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

[bbanghiitomi]

THE SAME PLACE AND DIFFERENT TIME

pairing: kim minji x fem reader

trope: fish out of water! childhood friends! first love! little bit of angst! fluff!

waking up feels weird for y/n again, inside the body of a first year college student, her little young soul is stuck somewhere she doesn't want to be. peeking on the window of her colorless room, it's an ordinary sunday, clear skies with no clouds and her view is blocked by buildings. it's so boring sitting here inside her room, a bed with no presence of a certain person she longs for. there's almost no time for her, the world is too fast and there's always something to look forward for.

but lately, her days have become more boring, it feels like she's starting to lose the meaning of a secret world she used to have as a child. consumed by sadness and boredom, y/n doesn't really know what to do, she's stuck inside her dorm maybe for a few more years?

"no, i shouldn't sulk like this..." y/n mentally sighs as she stands up from her bed and walks towards her study table. she hasn't changed one bit, at least that's what she thinks, she's the same old kid who hates sitting around looking sad, someone who persists through every conflict and is spontaneous.

if minji were to see her again, would she think the same?

y/n have always wondered about that, when she thinks of minji, she starts to miss the tall girl again, like always since she left to study far from her home. y/n at first liked to believe it hasn't been that long, until maybe a few more years passed because she hopes when she comes back, minji would remember her again.

but in reality, it's been more than 2 years, 5 years to be exact... in that amount of time, how many memories did minji make without y/n? how many people did she meet?

how long did she ever think about y/n? when every hour felt like another day without warmth for y/n.

does she care for y/n anymore? the thought is extremely scary, thinking about being forgotten is scary...

y/n sits on her chair, grabbing her laptop as she opens it and looks at an email from her school, after her test, the school announces a break for the students and it's 4 weeks.

enough time to go back to gangwon province and maybe see minji again.

"no!" y/n shakes her head as she buries her face on her palms, the warmth of embarrassment spreads around her face. will she even remember me? y/n thinks to herself as she sighs, stretching her arms to her table and leaning over to it, her fingers touching the small and fuzzy bear figurine that minji have gifted her before, there's a smaller version of it, the baby bear.

back then, there really wasn't a lot to worry about, just when y/n's piano practice starts or when minji needs to go back home. back then, these feelings she had for minji were all just something to laugh about and forget tomorrow, but it turned into something bigger the longer she looks for minji.

times used to be more simple and minji used to be enough for her to reach, maybe she have wished for too much and that dream she had since she was little came true, but now y/n feels lonely.

the girl also comes across her last messages to minji, before everything went radio silent.

"sorry!" as if she have caused minji some trouble again.

"it's okay. message me again when you're free." minji sent her.

"okay!" y/n's reply and she hasn't gotten any free time ever since.

should she really come back? is the biggest question she wants to know right now, before she spends her break rotting on her bed all day long.

luckily, y/n's parents came to the rescue, they've been planning on building a small house in a small town in the province and they wanted to hear her thoughts. that means y/n can have an actual reason to go back...

on her way home in the car, y/n sits behind and listens as her parents converse. "what have our daughter been doing? we missed you so much." y/n's mother pipes in, the girl gives her mother a smile before leaning towards her mother's seat. "a lot actually, i didn't know there's a lot to do in college."

her father's laughs, shaking her head. "you'll get used to it kid, we've been living in the city for 5 years... things will get more rocky in the future." he says, y/n nods and smiles at her father. "i understand." she mutters.

her mother smiles endearingly at the interaction before looking behind her daughter who immediately meets her gaze, "don't you want to see minji?" she asks, y/n raises her brows and purses her lips before leaning back to the backseat and shrugging.

"i actually don't know if i want to..." she admits, sighing before laughing and shaking her head. "it's just that, it's been 5 years." she adds, y/n's father takes a peek at his daughter and looks at his wife before back at the road.

"didn't we talk to her family last week?" he asks, y/n's mother perks up and nods, looking at their daughter, who then gives them both a confused look.

"oh right! we missed the town so much, we decided to build a home again in the same neighborhood." y/n looks at her parents and squints her eyes at them before speaking. "okay? and what did you guys talk about?" the parents look at each other before laughing.

"a lot, about the house, the town, the city, university and you! minji said she misses you." y/n's father say and y/n cannot help the way her eyes widens. "o-oh... really?" she mutters.

her mother nods with a bright smile. "she said, you seem very busy and she was wondering why you weren't with us." y/n fixes her hair and the way she sits, before raising her index finger. "so, what do you guys plan to do there?" she asks.

her father looks straight to the road, occasionally peeking at his daughter from time to time. "well, minji's family owns a small inn, right? we can stay there for a while, talk about what we want our house to look like." he shrugs, y/n nods and gives her parents a small smile.

"i won't mind that. i wish it would look like our old house though." the girl receives nods from her parents and it didn't take them any longer until they finally arrived their old town.

standing in the middle of the street, y/n looks rather... lost? or maybe she is, the day is about to end and y/n starts to hear crickets all over the place. it's as if she's never been in this town, there's so many turns, left and right and it's making her head dizzy.

there weren't that much people too, it's like she's in a ghost town! it's not like this in the city, so bustling and loud, full of life.

and y/n starts to wonder whether she was really from this place, did she really grow up here? why does this place look so unfamiliar? just a few moments ago, y/n walked away from the inn before she could even see minji, wanting to gain enough courage to talk to the tall girl again.

and now here she is, lost in the town, not sure where to go. this moment made y/n realize she's changed, a lot... that maybe she really wasn't the same person she was before. the small y/n would never be lost like this...

still, y/n wants to find her way back home, even if she doesn't know where.

"do you still know this way?" y/n hears someone behind her and she immediately turns her body around to look at the familiar face of her childhood friend.

"m-minji..." she can only mutter, minji laughs and walks towards the girl. "why did you leave? when i went to welcome your family to the inn, you were nowhere." y/n shakes her head and puts a hand on her face and she sighs.

"i just wanted to walk around..." though, it was clearly a lie. minji nods and raises her hand as if to gesture y/n to follow. "let's go back to the inn." minji tells the girl, a very endearing and totally not charming smile on her face.

the girl nods and tucking in lost strands of her hair behind her ear before watching minji walk past her and the girl follows immediately.

minji doesn't look back but she's smiling, it's nerve-wracking, y/n doesn't know what to really say as if the words are stuck in her throat. no motivation to fight for her feelings.

"so, how's the city? i heard many great things come from there." minji starts, looking behind. the girl looks at minji and sees the smile on minji's face, her round eyes and very recognizable lips. y/n looks down with a blush on her cheeks and then back up at minji again as she laughs. "oh it's fine, i grew kind of tired of the noise and how boring the city could be." y/n answers, minji blinks twice before turning to the road again.

as they walk, they see kids frolic around the area, to the park and around some corners of the village. seeing that makes y/n reminisce about the past again, how fun and simple it was, what did change? she wonders.

"wasn't it your dream? you told me before." minji remembers that, but remembering it reminded you that you wanted that dream for your parents, because it's a big thing.

"my parents' actually, but then again, their dreams are mine." y/n sees minji nod, her back turned to y/n again as they walk and finally reach the inn. surprisingly, your parents weren't that upset, very understanding too. "thank god minji was there earlier, we knew she'd pick you up right away." y/n's father walks over to minji and pats her shoulder.

"so happy to see you again kid! i'm sure my daughter is too." minji smiles at y/n's father, nodding her head before looking at y/n, who cannot find a way to avoid the other girl. "that's great to know. have you brought your things up inside your inn already, sir?" she asks, and y/n's parents nod.

"we did! don't worry, by the way we should get going for now. we haven't gotten dinner." y/n's mother waves her hand towards minji and leaves with her husband, y/n stops walking in front of minji and looks at her parents before back at minji.

"thanks... i hope i didn't bother you." she smiles apologetically and fixes her hair, minji feels her heart beating as she looks at the girl. minji shrugs and shakes her palms that are starting to get wet. "nope, it's okay. you should get some rest now."

"okay, see you tomorrow." they stare at each other for a good 3 minutes before y/n looks away and starts walking unusually faster to their inn.

"you left the construction site?" minji asks the girl, who looks up from where she was sitting and stands up, fixing her skirt. minji's eyes went to look at y/n's skirt and immediately, like nothing happened up at y/n's eyes.

"uh huh." she says, nodding her head before laughing sheepishly. "i got bored and yeah, i want to do something else." y/n says, minji nods and puts her hands on the pocket of her pants.

"you haven't changed a bit." minji says, letting out a small chuckle. y/n look up back at her, raising an eyebrow at the tall girl. "what?" she whispers, minji walks behind a bit. "i mean, i don't think you changed at all. you're still the same girl from before." y/n feels her cheeks blaze as she nods, humming.

the playground is empty in the middle of the day, when kids are at school, just like it was before. it's almost as if it was the same place, and yes it was but... it also feels like the same time, y/n doesn't feel like she's grown any older.

yes, minji looked more mature, looked prettier, taller and her hair grew longer and more silky.

"really? i always thought i've changed a lot." y/n tells minji, she receives a smile from the other girl. "well, you looked prettier now. but other than that, you wear the same type of clothes." y/n blinks when minji says that she turned prettier... y/n blinks again and laughs sheepishly, looking down on her skirt.

"ah yeah, i feel more like myself in these." truth to be told, it's more on projection. thinking about how much she's changed mentally is tiring, it's like the life in city left her caged with nothing to do but the same thing. the only way she can relived her past self is by wearing the same clothes she used to wear.

minji looks at y/n's clothes and back the the girl's face. "it's nice. living in the city, i'm surprised you're still hesitant about your looks." minji chuckles and scratches the back of her head, y/n blinks her eyes twice and then away. "i just feel like sometimes i don't feel right in my own clothes."

"you look right, amazing even." minji shrugs before offering her hand to y/n. "it's been so long since i last saw you." minji adds, y/n stretches her arm and opens her hand to hold minji's, the texture of minji's palm never changes, despite all the work she does in their house it's still soft.

"i'm sorry if i couldn't even message you..." y/n says, recalling the times she couldn't make any time to reply or even hit minji up. minji shrugs and caress y/n's hand. "i understand, it's not easy being in college. i hope you're fine though..." y/n smiles at minji and puts another hand on their hands.

"i'm so glad to see you again, it feels so weird..." y/n purses her lips before sighing and speaking again. "it's like i'm going around chasing a bunny, then again i'm lost." minji nods, tilting her head to get a better look of your face.

"some people really don't understand the secret this world has." there's so much to do, so much to eat, so much to say, so many to love and care for. there's not enough time to do everything but the most. y/n looks up at minji as the tall girl speaks. "you told me before right? that happiness are those small things."

at the end of the day, y/n is just a crybaby.

in this bright world full of fantastic things, there's no time to feel bored.

"yeah... and we used to eat cookies, and almost i don't know what i was doing before." y/n laughs, minji looks away. there's a blooming, ticklish, funny feeling inside minji when she's here holding your hands, it's the same giddy feeling while playing stupid games before, the same feeling looking at your face but this feeling was never there for anyone else.

"you used to never think twice, no matter how crucial it is. you also used to get lost a lot too, then i'd look for you." minji says, y/n giggles and brings their hands closer to her chest. "thinking about those stuff, feels like looking at a picture book right?" y/n says, minji nods.

the skies are turning orange, and kids are running towards the playground. maybe the reason the little kid y/n was before didn't get lost because she had minji.

"you used to always get in trouble..." minji laughs and y/n shakes her head, whining. "i was just really annoying!"

it's such a ridiculous story, feels like no one will believe. seeing minji's face again, the patch of mud on the sidewalk and the kids frolicking around in their own world.

"i missed you a lot." minji speaks again, this time her voice sounded more delicate as if she meant every one of her word. it's been so long, days, weeks, months and years have passed but minji still remembers y/n.

the girl looks at minji as if she's about to cry, because those words mean a lot to her. y/n nods, letting go of minji's hand before she steps and wraps her arms around minji. "i missed you too!" y/n sobs, causing minji to laugh.

"come on, are you really just gonna weep like that?" minji teases, y/n buries her head on minji's shoulder, wiping her tears on the taller girl's shirt. "seriously..." y/n whispers.

minji pats y/n's back, an arm around the girl's waist. "ah, it's getting darker." minji mutters, y/n ignores her and sobs again. "i really think of you a lot, when i look at my last message to you... i wish i can do something about it." y/n whispers, her voice cracking every syllable.

"you know i'm not going anywhere, right?" minji whispers back, putting her hand on top of y/n's head. y/n nods, it's not about that. the girl hates the idea of being away from minji again, she's hated that idea but seeing minji again, like this... makes her hate it even more.

minji isn't leaving but minji is also not going to be there always, it's not about whether she's going to leave or not... after all those years, her little silly feelings for minji, turned into something bigger and more serious, when she yearns for minji's warmth that space inside her heart turns more shallow.

maybe, y/n is scared minji might find someone else...

"don't look for anyone else other than me..." y/n whispers, minji widens her eyes as she hears what was said. minji turns her head to take a peek of y/n's face, but all the girl did was bury her face deeper on minji's neck.

"what do you mean?" this is it. this must be really it.

y/n may feel guilty for sounding selfish admitting that she hates the idea that minji will find someone who'll love her too.

"i... i want to be honest, ever since i left i started to miss you more everyday, it feels like it was never gonna end." y/n takes a sharp breath. feeling the way her heart squeezes as if pouring out all the feelings she's harbored for minji on those years they were away from each other.

it feels like she's inside a woods, lost inside the forest with nowhere to go except the only path she can see.

"it was so long... everything feels like it's the same everyday. people around me moved on, went past and never looked back. i couldn't because i feel it too deeply, and i love too much..." y/n pulls away from minji, letting go of the tall girl... that also forced minji to let her hands off of y/n.

"i didn't want to be left alone, i didn't want to think of you with someone else!" y/n sees the way minji looks at her, the tall girl looks at the playground, the kids are all going home.

y/n puts her hand on her face, wiping her stupid tears away.

"i never looked for anyone else but you... i see you on and off on your account, it gives me hope that you're still there. we're stuck on the same memory, i think of you too a lot." minji shrugs as she speaks and reaches for y/n's hand, minji hears y/n trying to suppress her tears.

"y/n? are you serious?" minji chuckles and holds y/n's hand tighter. the girl looked confused, she tucks in strands of stray hair behind her ear. minji sighs. "i take my time to let you know i'm just here for you to lean on to, stupid messages, so short but it's alright because i know you're okay." minji continues, her other hand reaches for y/n's shoulder.

y/n was silent, she looks like she's hesitating but in reality, there's nothing but minji inside her head.

"it's because i like you!" y/n opens her mouth and stares at minji, surprised about what she had said. minji leans her head closer, seeing y/n blink her eyes and lifting her hands to cover her face.

minji hears y/n whine and she holds the girl's shoulders. "hey..."

"i don't why? we only talk through messages and they're not even that long! i've tried to hard to get rid of these feelings but it's not working! you're really the only one i want..." y/n grumbles, her voice is muffled but still audible that it makes minji smile to see how intense the girl's feelings are for her.

"i understand." minji states as she moves her hand to hold y/n's nape, pulling her closer and making the girl take her hands off of her face until their foreheads touch. minji holds y/n's waist with her other hand. "don't ever change, okay? you and your feelings, don't change." minji whispers.

y/n hears the crickets and then maybe her own heartbeat, distracted by the way minji looks at her eyes... it could be the street lamps but minji's eyes looks like she has the whole milky way galaxy in them.

minji laughs as she feels how warm y/n has gotten.

out of nowhere, the tall girl leans to kiss y/n on the lips, not that long but enough for y/n to feel it linger all over her.

the wind blows, but suddenly it's not so cold here anymore.

minji doesn't give y/n any time to react and immediately pulls her in a hug. "dummy. i love you too, okay? you're not alone." minji mutters.

y/n lowers her head, leaning on minji's shoulder and she finds herself diving in deeper in their hug. "gosh, this feels like it's not real..." y/n mutters, minji laughs again and places a kiss on y/n's cheek.

"but it is real, wanna go back to the inn?" minji asks, gently lifting y/n from the ground, causing the girl to shriek and laugh.

and it's fun like that, exploring new feelings and diving in it without thinking much. it's fun basking on its wonderful effects, how amazing love can be or just how unpredictable circumstances are sometimes.

it's another day, y/n feels like she dreams a lot now. she doesn't want to forget her dreams.

when the girl sits up, she opens her eyes and sees how blurry her vision was. the girl rubs her eyes for a few seconds, before opening them again.

she was greeted by the pink walls of her room, exactly the same copy of her childhood room but without the stains of time.

was she dreaming? y/n peeks on her window, a very sunny day with bright skies and clouds all over the blue horizon.

just an ordinary day.

y/n looks on the floor of her room, her shoes with a patch of mud on it.

thankfully, she wasn't dreaming at all.

the door of her room opens, from the shoes, y/n looks up to see minji smiling at her. "hey, it's 11am already." the girl says, y/n smiles and jumps off of her bed, running towards minji and embracing the tall girl in a hug.

"ah! thank you!" y/n rubs her cheek on minji's shoulder, humming. the tall girl looks at her girlfriend, confused. "what happened?" she asks.

y/n shakes her head and laughs. thinking that what if everything was a dream? y/n was scared that once she opens her eyes, minji will be out of reach again. but she's wrong, minji is here.

"nothing, i'm so happy you're here again! and that you wake me up before it gets late." y/n says, minji nods and pats y/n's head, sighing. "ah yeah, come on we have somewhere to go." minji pulls y/n out of her room, their laughter is heard across the corridor as they walk to the dining room.

y/n might have been lost on her way home, maybe it took her too long to find her way back... but she's back! that's all that matters, minji is with her to guide her wherever she goes, just like when they were younger.

[auteurdelabre]

A LITTLE SUN - PART FOUR Dieter x f!Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS GET OUTTA HERE OR I'M TELLIN'!)

Story Summary: As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way.

Chapter summary: The secret is out. . . And you both have to face the music.

tags: Surrogacy, Pregnancy, Body changes re: pregnancy, Mutual Pining, Idiots in love, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of Parental Death, Parental Issues, Vulnerable Dieter, Vulnerable Reader.

dividers by @silkholland

a/n: Next chapter is... gonna be a doozy.

part one / part two / part three

"Tell me it isn't true."

"Huh?"

You roll over in bed, wiping the sleep from your eyes. Your cell is firmly lodged against your ear as your mother’s frantic cry is heard on the other end. It’s early the morning after the ultrasound and you’re still reeling from everything. There are soft pings going off on your phone, but all are drowned out by your mother’s terrified voice. 

After the kiss you and Dieter had been driven back to the rental in silence, both of you processing. You were pensive, staring down at your phone reading through work emails. Dieter on the other hand was beaming, his smile never dimming.

He’d tried to talk to you when you entered into the rental but you’d made a beeline for your bedroom where you’d fallen into an unsettled sleep. And now you have your mother screaming down the line at you as you blurrily try to understand what she’s going on about.

"People haven’t stopped calling,” your mom says her voice wobbling. "I keep hanging up but now they're on the lawn!"

"Mom what are you-"

"Tell me you're not having that horrible man's baby!"

It feels like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over your head sending icy chills down your spine. You jerk up in bed, your eyed bulging.

"What did you just say?"

You pull the phone from your ear and see all the pings and alerts that haven’t stopped. While you were sleeping it turns out you have been making headlines back home in the US. TMZ is of course the one to break the news, photos of you and Dieter splashes all over the internet.

Dieter Bravo makes PA his sex slave

There you both are, standing in the parking lot of the hospital. Dieter is smiling at you sweetly, his hand splayed over your belly. Your mid laugh and the two of you appear to have eyes only for each other. 

The next shot is the kiss – the one with your hand on his neck, his hand on your belly and both of you with your eyes shut. The level of intimacy in the photo is staggering to the point that just looking at it makes your face heat. 

How did they get that shot?

“Mom, I have to go,” you tell her breathlessly, hanging up on her still shrieking voice.

"DIETER! GET THE FUCK IN HERE!"

The day is long and by the evening the two of you have turned off your phones. The pings of incoming messages and phone calls are getting to be too much. Diane has scheduled an early meeting with the two of you tomorrow to discuss further steps.

You settle into the TV room, putting on some nature documentary but neither of you is watching it. You're seated by the fire, eyes lost in the flames.

Dieter is stretched out on the sofa, one arm behind his head, the other on his belly. He looked like a lost child, dark eyes wide and unblinking. He’s run his hands through his hair so much that it’s even more wild and mussed than usual.  Eventually when the silence grows oppressive you glance over at him.

"Was Mia pissed?" 

"She hadn't replied to any of my messages." 

Good. 

You don't know where that thought comes from, but it does. A strange sense of victory threads through your body, making you tingle pleasantly. But then your eyes drift over to Dieter still looking anxiously up at the ceiling and guilt soars through you. 

"Are you upset?"

"Of course I'm upset," Dieter snaps. "I really liked her. She's funny and chill and me being a single dad didn't bug her. She wanted me."

You say nothing. You watch as he throws his arm over his eyes, mouth curling into a frown. 

"And the shitty thing is I was gonna tell her when we got back to LA," Dieter sighs. "Fuck."

"I'm sorry," you offer in a quiet voice. Dieter’s eyes are immediately on your face. He sees you turned away from him. 

"What're you sorry for?"

You can't face him. You just shrug instead, feeling the queasy sensation of sentimentality. 

"I fucked it up for you."

Dieter is off the couch and crawling over to you without thinking. His long legs carry him clumsily until he’s kneeling at your feet.

"You didn't," Dieter says with that husky earnestness you’ve come to expect from him. You don't respond and he furrows his brows. "Hey, look at me."

You shake your head. You don't want to look at him. Dieter hates talking to people without seeing their eyes, it makes him uneasy. He doesn't see the irony in him constantly wearing sunglasses. He moves his fingers to your chin, gently tilting your face in his direction. 

"You did nothing wrong," 

"I kissed you."

"You were excited."

"But I kissed you," you repeat. 

"And I kissed you," Dieter offers without thinking before stumbling over his tongue as his words finally hit his brain. "It's like the first time you were excited about the baby and I loved sharing that with you."

He holds your gaze as you hold your breath. 

"I don't regret that moment. I wouldn't change it." His hand slips from your chin to your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

His face is so close to yours you can smell the cologne he spritzed to cover up the smell of cigarettes. You can see the length of his dark eyelashes. You force your eyes not to drift to his pouty mouth. 

"Even if it fucks up everything with you and Mia?"

Dieter goes to respond to you when a loud bang sounds on the front door. The two of you break apart and Dieter groans as he stands muttering about his knees. You move to the seat by the window, not up for talking to whatever company Dieter has invited over but not wanting to be in your stuffy bedroom. 

"Mia?"

You turn as Dieter says her name. Mia shoves past Dieter into the rental without taking the time to say a word to him. Her hair is wild from the wind outside and her jacket hangs on the crooks of her elbows. Despite everything she still looks glamorous. She spies you sitting near one of the windows with wide eyes. 

"Hi," you offer weakly. 

Dieter steps forward to follow Mia towards you but you wave him away. He shifts back, hanging awkwardly by the front door as the two women in his life meet eyes. Mia is staring at you harshly, her hand going to motion towards your belly.

"It's his isn't it?" Mia demands breathlessly.

You think of denying it but you know she doesn't deserve it. You hang your head, chin touching your chest. 

"Yes."

"Fuck," Mia says shaking her head. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"You're not!" You insist, struggling to a stand. The blanket that had been draped over your belly falls to the ground. 

Mia's eyes rove your expanded stomach, noticing the pronounced swell under your tight t-shirt more easily than the last time she saw you. Her eyes widen and you feel the need to explain before she starts screaming or crying.

"It was a one night stand," you explain in a rush. 

"One where you got pregnant and are keeping the baby," Mia says flatly. "Doesn't sound like a casual one night thing to me."

"Dieter is paying me."

Mia's reaction is as expected: confused and then horrified. Her perfectly manicured nails slide over her mouth in distress. 

"What?"

"Dieter, get Mia a drink," you throw over Mia's shoulder. You need him to stop standing there staring at you like a bump on a log. You look back to Mia. "Please, just come sit down and let's talk about this." 

Dieter scrambles, knocking into one of the chairs before scampering off into the kitchen, relieved to have something to do. 

Mia looks to be debating your offer before nodding. She follows you to the large tufted chairs by the window, taking the one opposite you. 

"I don't even know why I'm here," Mia laughs ruefully, not able to meet you sympathetic gaze. "It's not like... I don't..."

She fumbles for the words that you already know and you give a chagrined smile. 

"Because you like him," you tell her.

"We barely know one another," she says to her chapped hands. “We haven’t even slept together.”

She nestles back into the chair like a delicate bird making home in a nest. Dieter rushes over with two full glasses of red wine. He presses one into Mia's hand, wincing at her cool appraisal of him. His hand extends the wineglass towards you before he realizes the faux pas. 

"Oh fuck," Dieter says wincing. "I didn't-"

"Its fine," you say rolling your eyes. "You drink it," you motion to the sofa across the room when Dieter goes to perch on the arm of your chair, "over there!"

Dieter nods, shuffling quickly away from you, the wine spilling in like drops after him like a bloody trail. He places the wineglass onto the coffee table with a quiet knock. 

You glance over Mia's body tucked tightly into the chair. She looks so haunted, so defeated that it breaks your heart. Yes, you can admit that there is a part of you that is jealous of her relationship but you know that it's just hormones. Ultimately you want Dieter happy and Mia makes him happy. 

"Mia," you say her name softly, leaning forward conspiratorially as her large eyes turn on you. "You and Dieter have a strong connection."

She gives a scoff into her wineglass. "Right."

"I've seen the two of you," you insist. "You bring out the best in him. You seem happy when you're with him."

"He makes me laugh," Mia relents. 

You try not to notice Dieter's head poking up from the couch, his eyes flitting from you to Mia and back again. 

"Don't let this," you motion to your expanded belly, "get in the way of that." 

"You say it like it's not a big deal," Mia says with a distressed laugh, her hand gesturing to your belly. "It's a child you two made together!"

"It’s a business transaction," you say firmly. "Dieter wanted to be a dad, I got pregnant, he offered to pay and I accepted. That's how non-emotional the entire thing was. I never wanted kids."

Mia twists the stem of her wineglass between her fingers anxiously. The drink sloshes against the sides hypnotically. 

"Why would you do this?" Mia finally asks you gently. "If you never wanted kids, I mean. This is a big ask."

You know she doesn't believe you and you don't know how to convince her other than giving her all the brutal facts. You exhale slowly, lips pressing together tightly. 

"Because I have significant debt," you tell her leaning back into the chair. "And when Dieter offered me a very generous payment to carry the child to term I didn't want to turn it down."

You try to sound clinical and detached as you explain this. Dieter's eyes flicked to your face when you mentioned the debt, his brows raised. Now he just continues looking uncertainly between you and Mia. 

"You're not going to want to be in this baby's life at all?" Mia asks, brow furrowed. "You're just going to go work for Dieter every day and ignore your own baby?"

The way she says this sounds judgmental. Like you're a monster for choosing this. It makes your hackles rise momentarily before you remember that she's come here to understand everything. You smooth down the pillow absently, grounding yourself.  

"I won't be working for Dieter after I give birth," you explain in a rush, avoiding the way Dieter's eyes move sharply to your face. "I'll pay off my debts and then I'm going back to school to finish my schooling. I won't even be in the same city."

You hide a wince when you see Dieter's hurt expression behind Mia's shoulder at this proclamation. You know he’d been upset when you mentioned Sacramento in passing, but now he just looks devastated.

Mia blinks rapidly, looking even more thrown then before. "You won't?"

"Nope." You shake your head before giving a tepid smile. "But that means I won't be there to get in the way either. No random run ins, no having to pretend things aren't totally fucking awkward."

Mia gives a small smile at this

“It also means that your relationship with Dieter would be public news,” you tell her quietly. “It means tabloids running things about you being a stepmom. It means a lot of unwanted attention.”

“I could give a fuck about that,” Mia says rolling her eyes. “They said I didn’t have a belly button last year. I don’t care what they print about me. I just signed an airtight three picture deal with Marvel.”

You want to laugh at how you pinned Mia as this innocent little waif who didn’t know what she was getting into. How wrong you were. She’s more shrewd and worldly than most fifty year olds you know in the business.  Suddenly your fears about her being too innocent, about her career being damaged, are pushed to the side.

But her smile drops and she jerks her head behind her to glare at a solemn looking Dieter who now stands braced against the edge of his couch. She places her empty wineglass next to her on the floor.

"You lied to me, Dee."

"I told him to," you break in before your boss can reply. "I begged him not to tell anyone. Even you."

Mia turns back around, brow raised. "Why?"

"Because I was involved in a one night stand with my boss," you say with a dejected scoff. "And I got pregnant from it. From the man the media once called Burnout Bravo. I was humiliated. I didn’t want anyone to know. My own mother didn’t even know until TMZ came out with it."

Dieter feels his heart sink as you say this. The truth that he always suspected so brutally delivered makes him feel like he's been punched in the gut. Burnout Bravo.

Mia begins twisting her fingers together nervously. "Really?"

"Really," you nod before shooting a look over at Dieter that says play along. 

"It's the truth," Dieter says hollowly. 

"So there's no feelings here?" Mia asks the both of you. 

You're the first to reply with a laugh you force from the bottom of your belly. 

"No. Never. It was a one night stand because we were drunk and because I hadn't been laid in months. That's all it was."

"Yeah," Dieter says laughing the same sharp way you do. "I don't fuck my employees. We were wasted." 

That stings. To be referred to as an employee and so carelessly. But it’s what needs to be done. The two of them fit together. You lean closer to Mia, dropping your voice so that only she can hear you.

“Mia what you two have is special,” you emphasize. “I’m not just saying that. I’ve known Dieter for years. You’re the first one I’ve really seen make him change for the better.”

Mia seems to soften at this and you watch as Mia pushes up from the chair and draws over to Dieter. He stands and she allows him to pull her into his arms. He closes his eyes as he holds her against him. She murmurs something into his neck and the moment suddenly feels incredibly intimate.

You feel your intruding on the two of them and you shuffle past them into your bedroom, closing the door quietly behind you.

Back in the kitchen Mia pulls back slightly to gaze up at Dieter.  "Do you want her, Dieter?"

"What?" Dieter blinks rapidly. "You already asked me that and-"

"And now she's not in the room with us," Mia finishes, peering into Dieter's face. "And I want your total honesty." 

Total honesty.

He can't give her that. Can't tell her how you occupy his thoughts at all times. Can't tell her that even if you weren't carrying his child he's crazy about you. Can't tell her that he's so touched that you care about him well past that of a personal assistant. Can't tell her that he's told you things no one knows because he trusts you more than anyone. 

And he can't tell her those things because he really cares for Mia, more than he ever expected to. If things continue between the two of them there's a very good chance he's going to fall in love with her because right now he's well on his way. 

He doesn't want to give her up. 

His affection for you will wane. When you leave for school he'll be able to forget you. You don't want him so why would he pin his affections on that?

He needs to move on from you. 

"No," Dieter says firmly. "It's not like that. I mean of course I care about her. She's been my assistant for years and she's carrying my kid." 

"You know that's not what I mean," Mia says flatly, her light eyes scanning his face. Dieter stares into those eyes, feeling himself melt. 

Mia is sweet and ambitious and she likes to party. She's got an edge, a relaxed way of being and she's fucking gorgeous. She's an actress so of course there's a bit of ego but that's nothing he can't handle. If anything he likes it about her. 

Mia had been so understanding, so cool. Dieter could feel himself falling harder and harder for her the longer they were together. Part of him thinks she suggested the casual nature of the relationship because that's all she thought he was capable of. She gets him in a lot of ways. 

But you’re here and you're carrying his child and even if you weren't, after breaking down the walls you keep up these past few months, Dieter doesn't know that he can stop wanting you. It doesn't make sense; you don't want him like that so why does he still desire you? 

He needs to quit it though. If he doesn't watch himself he's going to lose Mia and he doesn't want that. 

"I want you," Dieter finishes softly, cupping her cheek. 

Mia slides her manicured hand over Dieter's wrist, sighing as she looks up at him. 

"I think maybe we need to take a beat Dee."

"Huh? Why?"

Dieter can't understand what she's talking about. They're going at a glacial pace. He hasn't even taken her to bed yet. Something that would have bothered him in past relationships, but for this one just feels right.

"Because I need some time to think things over," Mia tells him gently. "This is a lot to take in."

Dieter frowns. "But, I like being with you."

"And I like being with you," Mia assures him with a smile. "But I need to wrap my head around this. I know why you did what you did, but I need to sit with it and let you know how I feel."

She’s dumping him.

Dieter isn’t an idiot. He’s done this song and dance in his time. He knows by the tentative way she meets his eyes, the way her hand stays lightly on his wrist. She’s softening the blow, he realizes.

"If that's what you want," he manages. He won’t force a woman to be with him. And despite everything he’s glad he met Mia.

"It is," Mia nods. She stands on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips, smiling as she pulls back. "I better get back to the hotel. I have an early day on set tomorrow. Not all of us were lucky enough to finish wrapping their scenes."

"The price of being the lead," Dieter grins. Mia giggles, going to pull on her jacket before giving him a brief wave.

“I’ll see you later, Dee.”

You're in bed when Mia leaves, half dozing on your side. You’ve just removed the headphones from your belly and you’re ready to fall into a hopefully long sleep. You start when the door to your room creaks opens and Dieter steps inside, creeping over to your bed.

"Hey," you whisper in the dark. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Dieter nods, unbuttoning his shirt. "We talked it out."

"Okay. Good."

The shirt is dropped to the ground, followed quickly by his jeans. Wearing only his boxers he stills, realizing he's not in his room but yours. 

"Did you... Can I sleep in here?"

"In here?" 

"Yeah," Dieter says and you can hear the insecurity there. 

"Sure," you say pulling back the covers. "If you can fit in this narrow bed with me and my stomach."

"I'll fit," Dieter grins. 

You feel him slip under the covers, shifting nearer to you until his breathing is fanning over the back of your neck.

His hand tentatively rests at your hip, tensing. He remembers last time the two of you were together in bed, you snuggling up to him, kissing his shoulder, holding him. There was nothing sexual about it, just comforting. He wants that again. 

"Would," he starts, feeling embarrassed. "Would it-"

"What?"

"Would it be okay if I held you? Not trying anything," he quickly adds which makes you smile in the dark. "I just like holding him." 

Your smile fades. He doesn't want to hold you. He wants to hold the baby.

Of course he does. 

You want to quell the beating of your heart. You want to remind yourself that this is transactional. 

But more than that you want to be held by him. 

You want to inhale the scent of his cologne and feel the ridge of his nose grazing your neck. You want to feel his hand curl against your stomach. And most of all you want to fall asleep with the man who helped you to create this life you carry.

"Yeah," you shuffle back against him. "I'm sure he misses you."

It's a silly thing to say especially since the baby doesn't even know it’s a baby yet. But Dieter grins at the comment, holding you. 

"I missed him," he murmurs, hand grazing softly against your abdomen. 

Guilt gnaws away at you though. 

"Would Mia be okay knowing you're in here?" You whisper in the darkness. "I mean, I know nothing is happening, I just mean... You know."

"Yeah. Pretty sure she dumped me." Dieter supplies.  He feels you tense in his arms, tilting your head over your shoulder to stare up at him concerned.

"What? Really?" 

"Yeah," you feel Dieter shifting behind you, his large arm coming to wrap tighter around your waist. "Says she needs time to process everything." 

“Doesn’t sound like breaking up.”

“Trust me,” Dieter sighs. “I know a break up monologue when I hear it. I’ve given enough of them.”

“Oh.”

You think on this, hand sliding under your pillow. Dieter sounds resigned, like this isn't necessarily something he wants. 

"You're okay with it, Dieter?"

"Yeah." 

"Maybe it was for the best," you offer, trying to cheer him up. "I don't know that monogamy was ever your thing." 

The moment stretches between you both, the room quiet. Dieter has found your left hand, his thumb coming to absently rub the ring you wear there. The ring he bought you that you never take off. The ring that if you knew how much it cost you would never wear for fear of losing it. He loves seeing it on your finger, knowing that something he bought you ties you to him in some way. 

"For the right person it would be," Dieter finally offers in a soft rasp. Before you can say anything he's flicking the lamp next to the bed off. 

"G'night." 

"Night."

Dieter wakes the next morning when the scent of your perfume on the pillow. He cracks his eyes open to see the bed empty and he feels a stab of disappointment. 

He showers before pulling on his clothes and robe and padding into the kitchen. You're sitting there, backlit by the sun and when you look up from your cereal bowl and cast a bright smile in his direction he feels momentarily breathless. 

You’re so fucking beautiful.

"Morning, ready for a painfully long flight home tonight?"

"Y-yeah," Dieter stammers before pouring himself a cup of the brewed coffee. 

You watch him looking anxiously around as he dumps the sugar into his brew before taking a seat opposite you. 

"So I was thinking about the Mia thing," You offer after a sip of tea. “She loves to travel right? Like, outside of work?”

“Yeah,” Dieter nods enthusiastically. "Last week she actually suggested we go on a trip together after the film wraps."

“So do it,” you insist. “Show her with action that you want and cherish her. Just the two of you somewhere romantic. Where does she like? Paris? Italy?”

“She was always talking about Prague,” Dieter offers as he recalls their times together. When they were first getting to know one another under the pretense of running lines. “She’s always wanted to go.”

“So take Mia to Prague,” you say enthusiastically as you can manage. “See the sights, stay at wonderfully fancy places, do romantic things. Prove to her that you want to be with her. Because she obviously means something to you Dieter.”

“You seem awfully concerned about my romantic life,” Dieter muses. “When did that start?”

“Contrary to what you believe, I care about you,” you say shortly. “And when I’m gone I want to make sure that things are stable. Mia is a good stabilizing force. And from what I can tell she’s a lot tougher than I gave her credit for.”

“So Prague,” Dieter echoes, thinking about your suggestion. It’s a good plan. A smart one if Mia will give him a chance to prove how much he cares about her.

“I won’t lie I’m jealous,” you smirk at your cereal bowl. "Always wanted to go there."

I'll take you. I'll take you anywhere you want to go.

Dieter shakes his head to erase this dangerous thought. 

No. No you won't, Bravo. She's leaving practically as soon as your kid is here. Stop thinking about her like that. She's your employee. 

"Well you'll have three hundred thousand dollars to play around with," Dieter says forcing a smile to his own face. 

"Two hundred," you correct through a mouthful of cereal. 

"Huh?"

"Well uh, I have to pay off my mom's mortgage. There's still about a two hundred thousand left on it. Then I have to pay off my student loans the next semesters' tuition and rent a place so... No trips to Prague for me." 

You give a little huffing laugh before going back to your cereal. Dieter takes a long sip of his coffee thinking about everything that’s gone on.

You begin to tap into your tablet, bringing up your flight details. Dieter watches you typing, transfixed by the way your fingers move, the way the ring he bought you sometimes spins on your finger. He recalls the way those same fingertips felt gripping him as he licked-

Fucking stop.

"Okay, that's done; the car will be here around three. Bags are packed, your passport is with mine," you say checking things off your list with a satisfied smile before it drops. “And our meeting with Diane is in ten.”

“Diane?”

Diane is the big guns when it comes to PR and Dieter’s career in general. Knowing that you’ve pissed her off stresses the both of you big time. And as if you’ve summoned a well organized demon the laptop chirps.

Seconds later you and Dieter sit awkwardly next to one another at the kitchen table, your laptop positioned between the two of you. A furious looking Diane is on the zoom call, her dark red brows knitted together. 

"I thought I was perfectly clear."

"You were Diane," you jump in, your cheeks red. "It's-"

"No public affection," Diane interjects. "No fraternizing with co-stars."

Dieter gives a sheepish grin at that before his eyes jot to you. You can't even look at him in the small box of the zoom meeting. You feel so foolish about all of this. All your years of professionalism, striving to have things under control and this is how it ends? A blurry snapshot of you kissing your celebrity boss?

"The baby kicked for the first time," Dieter offers quietly. "We were just really excited."

"Congrats," Diane says without a shred of conviction. "Now we have a PR nightmare that we have to spin."

“I know we screwed up, Diane, but I swear it was a heat of the moment,” you implore her. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t. As of this moment you are no longer working for Dieter Bravo.”

“Hey-“ Dieter starts but Diane is talking over him.

“You wanted to keep her on Dee, and look what happened. And now we can’t even keep you on the books because it’ll look suspicious,” Diane snaps. “You can’t be seen fucking and paying your assistant, it’ll be career suicide. I’ll have to pay her wage through a third party and I really didn’t need this headache considering I was already finished up on a plan for unveiling baby Bravo and now I have to rethink the entire thing.”

 Dieter looks over to see your head hung low, your cheeks stained red. He knows how much this is killing you. How much you prided yourself on your work acumen and professionalism. He tries to slide his hand over yours but you pull away sharply, eyes going to Diane.

“I understand, Diane. Just tell me what I need to do.”

The flight back is a strained one. Diane has booked you both first class and private pods but across the plane from one another. You don’t interact the entire flight; instead you’re left to your own thoughts as you absently stroke your stomach.

You have a few things in your favor – it was getting close to having to stop working anyway. You’re officially showing and you’re still getting paid. That money can all go to the family.

The family.

Your mother’s voice over the phone rings in your ears. The shrill terrified shout that this couldn’t be true. You’ve disappointed her. You have to explain it all to her as soon as possible. It’ll be easier to just tear the band aid off.

Dieter rests in his own private pod three whiskey’s deep, his swollen eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He’s been holding back tears all morning and now they slip down his gold cheeks in the privacy of the flight.

He doesn’t get to see you or the baby until he’s born. It’s a fucking cruelty.

“If you want her to have a normal life, Dee, you’ll stay far away from her. She needs to be seen as a surrogate only, not a romance. We can write the kiss off as a one-time thing if we find an alternative romantic partner to highlight for you.”

Of course he’d agreed immediately. He doesn’t want you or the baby stressed. It’s his own fault for wanting you so badly it aches. You promised to update the app daily, to video chat at least every other day. That had seemed fair.

But now on the way back to LA, Dieter can’t help but feel this growing pit starting in his belly. A coldness that has nothing to do with the weather. He’s not going to see you every day, won’t be able to smell your perfume, hear your voice when you sing in the shower (off-key), won’t snuggle you to him as you watch nature documentary’s. 

At least before this photo Dieter had the option of going to your house to see you in the last few months of your pregnancy, but now with the media frenzy there’s no possibility. It’ll be horrible for you and your mom.

Once he’s off the flight Dieter’s phone is buzzing. He takes it out, surprised to see that Diane has already sent him a few texts. He’s confused before he remembers that without you as his PA he’ll be receiving her messages directly.

[12:33pm] I talked to Mia’s publicist. She’s agreed to a public romance rollout this Friday. New club opening.  Confirming your availability.

Dieter glances over at you in the luggage carousel, eyes flitting from bag to bag as you wait for yours.  You look like a goddess despite your dark black clothes and oversized sunglasses. He knows you’re trying to be inconspicuous.

[12:34pm] D: I’m available.

You’ve got your luggage and Dieter scrambles to grab his own before rolling it over to you. You notice his approach and try to affect a casual attitude. Thankfully no one seems to recognize you from the photos.

“I’ll make sure you get into your taxi,” Dieter offers quietly walking alongside you, his brows raised.

“No it’s fine,” you insist, taking your rolling luggage and giving him a soft smile. “I’ll be good. I’ll head out first; hopefully if there are any paps they won’t recognize me before I’m in the cab.”

“Right.”

When you walk out of the airport you think of all the things Diane warned you about over the phone. The photographers, the yelling, the attention. You thought you were ready for it.

You were wrong.

But there are at least fifty paparazzi all hanging around like flashbulb vultures waiting to catch you both looking vulnerable. Groups of men with oversized cameras are all shouting at you, calling your name, saying things to get your attention.

"Over here! Hey, over here!"

"Have you two picked out names yet?"

“Did you put holes in the condom?”

"Do you know the gender?"

“Do you sleep with all your employers?”

"Is it twins? It looks like it could be twins."

You feel anxious tears starting at the corner of your eyes. They’re going to photograph you and you’re going to be crying. You still in the crowd, hand on your luggage strap, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

The taxi seems so far away, the lights, the sounds; the sensation of being suffocated is all you can focus on. You feel like you’re drowning. Your chin wobbles and another camera is thrust directly into your face.

One hand curls over your belly protectively before you raise the other to shield your face. You feel completely alone and vulnerable, the tears almost spilling when you feel a warm hand envelop your wrist. You glance up to see Dieter there at your side, stony faced at the paparazzi as he pulls you gently towards him.

“Give her room to breathe.”

Gratitude floods you and despite Diane’s directions to avoid each other like the plague you let him lead you towards where his private SUV waits.

His arm goes to your back, urging you to move with him. As you and Dieter shuffle through the throng of shouting people you suddenly understand why Dieter drowns himself in drugs and sex and everything else. This constant whirlwind, this unbearable attack on all sides is exhausting. Photographers, fans, cameras, eyes, shouts. It's terrifying.

"Is this the result of a one night stand?"

“Dieter have you asked for a DNA test?”

 “How old are you?”

“DIETER I LOVE YOU!”

“Did you feel pressured because Mr Bravo is your boss?”

“Can I have your autograph!?”

“What a slut!”

“What’s the sex like?”

A camera is thrust inches from your face and you give a yelp, putting up a free hand in front of you as the light flashes.

"Hey, get the fuck away from her," Dieter says placing a protective arm around your waist and sweeping you along with him. He doesn’t let you go as he herds you through the line of shouting people. Dieter’s driver is there, grabbing your bag for you and loading it into the SUV.

“Just breathe, baby,” Dieter murmurs against your temple. “I got you.”

You want to tell him that this will look bad in tomorrow’s gossip column; that even just walking side by side will create a frenzy of tabloid speculation. But you’re terrified at the mob of people and your hand clutches at the front of Dieter’s jacket as you shy away from them.  

"Are you really pregnant or is this a publicity stunt?"

"Dieter what about rumors that you've been linked recently with Mia Rowe?"

"It's it true this child might be Robert Pattinson’s?"

When the last photographer starts shouting and shoving the camera in your face again you let out a small whimper as Dieter opens the door of the SUV for you.

“Please just stop!”

Dieter hears your cry and turns to see your terrified expression before you’re burying your face in Dieter’s shoulder.

Dieter loses all rational thought. All he can focus on is the way you’re trembling in his arms, the way your hand has gone protectively over your stomach protecting his son, the child you made together.   

Before you can stop him he's reared back and kicked the photographer in the vee of his legs and the man blanches. You look on in horror at the altercation.

"Dieter!"

Flashbulbs are going off like crazy as the man groans sharply, grabbing between his legs and collapsing onto the sidewalk.

“I said stay the fuck away from her!” Dieter shouts, his cheeks red.

He pulls himself in after you, closing the door before his arms are around you, pulling you against him. The windows are tinted, but that won’t matter after that little performance out there.

“Ready to go Mister Bravo?”

“Yeah, thanks Hank.”

The car is already in motion, heading for Dieter’s place as the sound of shouts grow quieter and quieter with each passing mile. You’re still shaking, still reeling from everything that happened.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “That must have been terrifying. I’m used to it now but I remember how it used to be.”

“How do you do it?” you ask, still trembling. “They’re relentless.”

“Coke. Sex. Booze,” Dieter shrugs as if this is a natural response. “I get by. But it doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Dieter has his hand holding yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of your palm. 

“And here I thought my Mom was going to be the most stressful part of today,” you say trying to offer a weak smile.

“Is it really going to be that bad do you think?”

“Honestly yeah, I do,” you say nodding.  “She’s going to be pissed and I’m going to have to walk on eggshells until the baby is born.”

"Why don't you stay in my guest house?"

You gaze up and over at Dieter, seeing that he’s watching your face with a soft expression as the car coasts through the busy LA traffic.

"What?”

"You don't want to stay at home, I have the empty space. I don't see why that's so weird. And if I’m honest I don’t wanna be so far away from my son,” Dieter finishes lamely. “I like seeing him growing every day.”

I like seeing you every day.

He can’t admit that to you. He never will. He’ll swallow it down deep.

“I have to go home, Dieter.” You insist. “Plus, Diane would murder me. This flies in the face of everything she’s trying to cultivate for your image.”

Dieter doesn’t say anything, but he does relax back into the seat next to you.  He doesn’t release your hand, instead he maneuvers his fingers, lacing them through yours and resting them on the seat between you both.

You tell Hank your address and you take a deep breath as a short while later he rounds on your street.

Your Mom wasn’t joking.

There really are tons of people littering your normally quiet suburban neighborhood. Many with expensive looking cameras and phones. You groan as the SUV crawls by them before you insist on having the Hank drive you around the corner. The last thing you need is to be seen getting out of Dieter’s car.

Hank goes to take your bags out of the trunk and Dieter readies himself to follow you out the door.

“I’ll come-“

“No,” you insist gently. “I have to do this myself.”

He wants to deny this but he sees the seriousness of your countenance and nods. He knows you’re a strong, capable woman. But the thought of you being messed with by those paps are making his jaw clench.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him with a grin as you slip on a pair of oversized sunglasses. “Thanks to you I know how to get them to leave me alone.”

He can’t help but let out a short laugh, cut short when you close the car door. Dieter watches you take the suitcase handle from Hank and thank him before you roll it down the sidewalk and out of his life for the foreseeable future.

The first thing you notice when you get inside your house is how quiet it is.

Especially compared to the madness that is just outside your front door.  You’d successfully ignored the men and women who shouted questions at you. You were busy on the phone with the local police ensuring that your Mother’s home would no longer be swarmed. You slide your suitcase to the left of the door.

“Mom?”

She appears moments later dressed in her sweatpants and oversized sweater.  She hasn’t left the house despite it being a workday.

“Your flight was okay?”

“Uh, yep.”

“Good.”

“You didn’t go to work today?”

“Couldn’t get my car out of the driveway,” your Mom says tightly.

“I called the city when I was walking up,” you tell her, toeing off your shoes. “They’ll take care of it.”

She nods but makes no move to smile or to hug you. She’s always been an emotional woman, prone to hugs and kisses so her complete lack of anything has you on edge.

“I made pie,” she says, “come have a slice.”

You hear distant sirens outside as you follow her into the kitchen, taking your coat off before plopping into seat opposite her at the table. You don’t miss how her eyes widen at the obvious swell of your stomach.  

“So it’s true.”

You watch her cut the peach pie she’s baked noting that her fingers are trembling. You say nothing in reply, simply watching as she slides your portion and a fork to you on the plate before she looks back at your face.

“You made a child with that horrible man.”

“He’s not a horrible man,” you say, your voice coming out more caustic than expected. “You don’t know anything about him other than what the media wants you to think.”

“Oh, he’s an angel then, is that it?” your Mother gives a humorless laugh as she sits in her seat, the cheap wood creaking. “He doesn’t do drugs? Doesn’t say crazy things? Doesn’t act like a fool?”

Your mother has always ragged on Dieter through your entire employment. Most of the time you could shrug it off, ignore it or even laugh along with her. But now? After everything you’ve experienced with him you feel a strangely intense feeling of protectiveness. For the soft man that holds you in bed and buys you rings just because. For the man that listens to you talk about your Dad and shares about his mom. Hearing her deride him makes you curl your fingers around your fork in anger.

“Even if he did all those things, so what? If the worst thing you can say about Dieter Bravo is that he acts immature and says silly things and does drugs every once in a while does that really make him so horrible?”

“It makes him irresponsible,” your Mom snaps. The worst possible thing you can be in your mother’s eyes in irresponsible. “And he’s supposed to be the father of your child? Of my grandson? I’m not going to have a son in law that acts like he does.”

A son in law?

You could laugh at the thought of Dieter being a married family man. When would he have time to go on hippie retreats and have threesomes? Although considering his behavior of late perhaps that’s an unfair belief. Regardless, Dieter Bravo is not the marrying kind.

"Mom we're not getting married. Ever."

Your mom's fork clatters onto her plate, the pie forgotten.

"What? Why not?"

Fuck. This is going to hurt so much more than you thought. Hearing your Mom refer to herself as a grandmother is a new kind of pain you weren’t anticipating. You can see it there in her eyes that keep lingering on your belly – all the hopes and dreams of grandchildren running through her mind.

“We’re not in a relationship.… this isn't... I'm not keeping the baby," you finally manage to say in a thick voice.  

"What?” Your mom nearly shouts when she looks to your swollen stomach, her features contorted in horror.  "You can't just get an-"

"No, not like that. I mean, I'm giving the baby to Dieter. He's paying me to be his surrogate." 

Saying it out loud makes your heart hammer. If you thought she looked horrified at the previous comment, she looks downright disgusted now. She leans back in her chair, as if she physically cannot stand to be closer to you.

"What?"

"I'm getting paid," you explain in a rush, hoping that this will ease the pain of it. "Three hundred thousand dollars." 

You expect that this will soften the blow of the news but if anything she looks as if she’s been slapped.

“You’re… selling your baby?”

The way she says it makes your skin crawl, like you’re some backroom monster.

“It’s not like that,” you say raking your hands through your hair in frustration. “Mom, I’m not like, his Mom. I’m just carrying him. Like, remember when Liz had the surrogate? I’m like that girl they hired.”

“Liz didn’t let her husband sleep with that woman did she? They did it at the hospital, with a transfer,” Your mom peers into your face and you think you see a shadow of hope. “Is that what happened, honey? You got an embryo transfer?”

Fuck this is getting worse by the minute.

“No. We slept together. It was a mistake.”

You wince when you feel your son kick, a light flutter that has you gripping the sides of your abdomen in surprise.  Guilt immediately goes through you – can he understand what you’re saying during all of this? No, of course not, he’s a fucking fetus. And yet that doesn’t stop you from welling up.

"This is so…twisted,” your mom replies with a shake of her head. “It’s one thing to sleep with him and have his baby. But you… You’re not even going to be his mother? You’re selling him off like he’s a piece of furniture?”

A solemn quiet goes around the space and your mother drops her napkin to the table.  You take a bite of your pie, finding it bitter.

“That’s not at all what’s happening.”

"If your father was here-"

"Well he's not!" you snap out at her. “You had no one else to take care of you so I stepped up. I see how long the hours are that you work, how exhausted you are. You’re supposed to retiring at this age, not taking on double shifts. I wanted to pay off the mortgage for you. I wanted to pay for my schooling. And Dieter wanted a child, so how is this pregnancy a bad thing? We all got something out of it.”

“Got something out of it?” Your mother almost sneers. “You don’t get something out of it. You created life and now you’re selling him for profit to a man who needs help staying sober longer than a week. It’s disgusting what the two of you are doing.”

A searing pain goes through you as you sit there, the pie dry and tacky in your mouth. It hurts to swallow it down. But it hurts more to know that your sacrifice is now being thrown back into your face.

“I did this for you,” you tell her weakly.

"I never asked you to do anything for me," your mom says and now you see the shame in her eyes. The disappointment. “It’s disgraceful treating human life like a commodity. I… I can’t accept that money from you. It’s tainted.”

I did it all for nothing.

You feel numb. Your Mom has lowered her chin to her sternum and you can see fat tears slipping down her nose. She’s silent as she cries and when she does this it reminds you so much of your father’s funeral and the way she’d silently sobbed that you feel physically ill.

You can’t be in this environment. Not just because it hurts so much to have her talk to you like she has. But because you can’t spend the next several months on eggshells, high strung and anxious. You can’t do that to the life that is building itself within your womb, cell by cell. You will give your son every advantage you can.

"I can't be in this house," you say softly. "I'm sorry, mom. I... I can't."

“I think that might be for the best,” she agrees, and you notice that she can’t meet your eyes.

You move to your feet wobbling to your bedroom, closing the door gently behind you. You look at the awards on the desks, the beautiful painting you look at each morning, at the space you lived in with your Mom and Dad. You can almost hear his voice as he told he was so proud of his smart daughter and her science awards.

If you try you can remember how it felt to have him read you bedtime stories before you fell asleep in this very room. You can still smell the cinnamon bread your Mom would make you every year for your first day of school.

But then you blink and all you see is a room with a bed and a desk and some art on the walls. A past life of someone who doesn’t exist anymore.  You catch your reflection in your dresser mirror, amused to see that the woman staring back at you hasn’t been a child for a long time. She stands with a splotchy face and tired eyes, and a stomach that swells with life.

“You’re gonna be safe,” you tell the bump in the mirror.  “I promise.”

You glance out between your drawn blinds thankful to see that the group has been dispersed by local law enforcement. Good. You bring out your mobile and begin tapping out a message.

[4:31pm]:  Is that offer of staying at your place still on?

D [4:31pm]: i'll send a car

You don’t even fight him on it.

[4:32pm]: Thank you.

D [4:32pm]: u never have to thank me

You make your way to your closet where you bring out a second suitcase, filling it to the brim with everything you think you’ll need for the next little bit. Your suitcase full of clothes from your last trip is waiting for you at the front door for when you exit.

You sit on the end of your bed, waiting for the car when you feel your phone buzz at your hip.

It’s a photo from Dieter, one that makes your brows saddle. It’s of his guest house, the one he usually just keeps for out of town guests and overflow storage for his paintings and other purchases.

But you can see he’s organized it, swept the floors and set everything up nicely complete with a vase of fresh flowers from his garden sitting on the coffee table.

D [4:56pm]: ready and waiting, baby mama

Your hand is on your abdomen without thought, gently holding your son through the tendons and tissues. You give a watery smile at your screen before looking down at your belly, feeling a sense of relief bloom behind your sternum.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, little one. Your Dad is gonna take care of us.”

TAGLIST: @getitoutofmymindwrites @manuymesut @whirlwindrider29 @mostardentlypascal @lu62 @missladym1981 @heareball @sptbear @drewharrisonwriter @lizzie-cakes

[thetriumphantpanda]

Delicate - Chapter Two: Maroon

3.7k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

summary: despite some last minute reservations about meeting Joel, you throw yourself into the date, but it doesn't go according to plan.

A/N: Ahhhhh oh my God - @hellishjoel and I are so excited to bring you the second chapter of Delicate! We're having the best time with this little pairing already and we hope they manage to worm their way into your hearts just like they have with us! We're taking turns in posting the chapters of this - so please make sure you're following both of us to keep up to date!

warnings: mentions of being a single parents, rom-com vibes, foul language, a bestie who is nothing but trouble, Joel being terrible at dating in general, a lil smattering of angst, mentions of food & alcohol consumption.

There’s a flow of peace that settles across you when the door to Noah’s room clicks shut. You love him, he’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and he keeps you afloat every day, but these moments, when he’s finally asleep and you can stop thinking for a minute, are the moments you crave each day. 

You settle down on the couch, mug of tea in hand, with the TV playing quietly, just for background noise more than anything, as you pick up your phone for the first time that evening. There’s a few emails, mainly about shopping sales and holidays that you think you should book but never do - those are quickly deleted to stop any temptation of spending money on something that isn’t essential. There are a few messages from your mom, just confirming that she’ll pick Noah up from school tomorrow, what she’s planned for them to do and what she’ll feed him. You shoot a message off in reply that it all sounds good and that he’s excited for some quality time with his grandparents, because it’s true, and then you set your phone down on the coffee table and try to ignore it for a while. 

You finish your tea and queue up a few episodes of a show you’ve been meaning to catch up on - something mindless that people at work always seem to talk about. So mindless that it actually sends you to sleep. You wake with a jolt a few hours later. The house is still quiet, which means Noah hasn’t decided he’s still got too much energy and needs to burn it off by jumping on the bed or pulling some of his toys out. You sigh, checking the time to see it’s almost midnight. 

You gather your stuff, put the mug in the sink to deal with in the morning before trudging up to bed. There’s a moment at the top of the stairs, where you think it would be so easy to flop down on the bed and forgo the rest of your responsibilities, but you’ve got your mother’s voice in the back of your mind, something about wrinkles and pores and how bad it is to sleep in your makeup, so you turn left into the bathroom, cover your skin in serums and creams and then finally, just after midnight, you fall into bed. 

Knowing it’s bad to look at your phone this late at night, once you’ve set your alarm, you click open the godforsaken Hinge app that Dixie had insisted on setting you up on. So far, after six months, you’d been on a fair few first dates, three second dates and had a God awful one night stand, but nothing had been sticking, no-one seemed to be exactly what you were looking for. You’d promised her that you’d try though, so as had become a nightly ritual for you, you set about giving away your daily likes, not really paying a huge amount of attention until he pops up for you. Joel. 45. From his first profile picture, the exact kind of man you’d been searching for. Rugged, handsome, 

Of the few photos he had on his profile, he was often donning a flannel or a simple short-sleeved shirt that curved around his biceps and broad shoulders. He always wore the same tilted smile, with dazzling eyes and dark hair with licks of silver. He was a handsome lumberjack of sorts. 

He looked to be an outdoorsman, at least two of Joel’s pictures were of him hiking a trail accompanied by a young girl, surrounded by greenery and tall rocks with the sunshine peeking through the branches. His face was glowing and tan from the light, his handsomeness so natural. Beautiful, even. 

Joel’s “Typical Sunday” consisted of a black coffee in the morning, followed by making burgers on the grill for him and his family before settling down to watch a Dallas Cowboys football game. That was a typical Sunday for a man, but it showed how he liked to unwind and that he was a family man. 

First, the mention of a family, plus that beautiful young woman in almost all of Joel’s pictures - a daughter, perhaps? Older than your own boy by quite a few years. He must have been on the younger side of having children if any of these assumptions were even correct. But there was something about knowing he also had a baby to be thinking of felt familiar, comforting, as they would always come first. 

 And it turns out that talking to him is pretty easy too. He’s charming, a slight insomniac like you, and from what you can tell from the slight back and forth you managed to have before you go to sleep, able to flirt a little with you too. It’s why when he asks to take you out you say yes without hesitation, it could be fun, he could be the one, who knows? 

Mornings are always chaos. Half-eaten bowls of cereal on the table, a mug of coffee made with the best of intentions but sat to go cold, a rush of getting Noah dressed and in the car with everything he needed for school and then the annoyance of getting stuck in traffic on the way to drop him off, all coalesce to make you stressed as you help Noah out of the backseat. 

“Remember granny is picking you up this afternoon okay?” You ask, bending down to kiss his cheek as he fiddles with the straps of his backpack. 

“I know, mom.” He groans, using the back of his hand to wipe the kiss off his cheek. 

You smile, ruffle his hair a bit, because no matter how much he might protest, he will always be your baby, “Behave for her, okay?” You warn lightly with a smile, “She’ll bring you back home tomorrow.” 

Noah spots some of his friends across the playground and steps around you to make his way into school. You turn, hold your hand up in a wave and shout at him to have a good day. Noah turns, walking backwards to look at you, waving right back. 

“Have a good day, mom!” 

Underneath the way he’s growing up, he’s still the sweet little boy you knew you could raise on your own. You sit back in your car, picking your phone up to make sure you’ve got enough time to go to the store and stock up on some groceries, when you notice a notification from Hinge. It’s Joel. 

Just checking you’re still okay for tonight? 

For some reason, you sit and stare at it for a few minutes, fingers itching to type something, to confirm, but there’s that usual seed of doubt that appears after all this time that makes you want to tell him something’s come up, you’ll have to reschedule. After months and months of trying to find someone, to failed first date after failed first date, you wonder if it really is worth it, no matter how good of a match Joel Miller seems on paper. Is he really going to be worth getting dressed up for? You sigh, type out your usual message of I’m sorry, I think I might have to reschedule, when the screen is filled with the face of your best friend, trying to call you. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello sexy mama!” Dixie’s voice immediately soothes you, “How are you this fine morning?” 

“I’m okay,” You speak softly, plugging the phone into the car so you can speak to her as you drive, “Just dropped Noah off at school.” 

“How is my favourite man?” She asks. 

“Yeah, he’s good, he’s staying with my mom tonight so I think he’s just pleased to be away from me for a while.” 

“It’s like the universe read my mind!” Dixie exclaims on the other end of the phone, “Do you want to go out and get wine drunk tonight?” 

You stutter for a second, because you could, you could cancel with Joel, go out and drink cheap wine and dance with your friend, but before you can say anything, Dixie picks up on your hesitation. 

“OH MY GOD!” She all but screeches, “Do you have a hot date tonight?!” 

You grumble a little, because how is she always so attuned to you like this? 

“Yeah, although I don’t know if I’m gonna go.” 

“Why not?” 

You sigh again, “I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore?” You offer. 

“Girl, get outta here with that attitude!” She chastises, “Is he hot?” 

You grumble a little again, but you can’t deny it, Joel is hot, “Yes.” 

“Well then,” You can hear her clap her hands in the background, clearly having you on speaker so she can go about her business, “If he’s hot, then there’s no harm in it, forget me and my wine, go out, drink wine with your hot mystery stranger and get fucked, girl!” 

“Dixie!” You screech, “I’m not fucking him.” 

“Whatever you say, girl!” She shouts down the phone, “If you cancel, I’m kicking your ass, okay?” You sigh, once again, something you’re getting more and more used to these days, “Have fun and be safe!” 

And then all you can hear is the dial tone from where she’s hung up on you. You think about it all the way around the grocery store, she wouldn’t know if you did cancel, would she? But you’ve known her long enough to know she’d sniff a lie out of you in seconds. So, when you settle down at your desk, you pull out your phone and send Joel a reply to confirm the plans you made last night, and then spend the rest of the work day trying not to work yourself up about the whole thing. 

You don’t think that the anxiety of waiting for a date to show up will ever get easier. Stood just inside the doorway of the restaurant Joel had chosen, you’re chewing at the skin around your thumbnail. Did you dress right? Do you look okay? When he turns up will he look like his pictures or not? Will he lean in for a kiss on the cheek? Do you give him a hug? You’d like to think of yourself as a seasoned pro at this now, but those first few awkward moments always made you anxious - there was no second chance at first impressions. 

You needn’t have worried about Joel though. When the door opens and he stands in front of you, he is exactly the man you’d studied on that app. Taller than you, broad and big. Scruff, peppered with gray across his face, though it’s neatly kept, just like this hair, although more unruly, it’s still peppered with grays and it suits him. He’s wearing dark jeans, and a flannel that you think must be saved for best. You step closer, open your arms. Joel leans down, and does indeed press a kiss to your cheek, one of his wide palms pressed lightly on your lower back as he hugs you back a little. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel.” You smile when he pulls away. 

“You too, ma’am.” He smiles back at you, and you can tell he’s nervous. 

“What have I told you about that?” You tease as you step towards the hostess, Joel giving her his name, you hope the slight teasing will put him at ease, you remember just what it was like when you started dating for the first time, and as much as you want to have a good time, you want to make sure Joel is having a good time too. 

She picks up two menus, leads the two of you to a table at the edge of the restaurant. Joel pulls your chair out for you, pushing it gently under you as you sit down. The light is low, and there’s a thrum of chatter across the whole restaurant as you open the menu, glancing your eyes over the choices. 

“Do you want to share a bottle of wine?” You ask, finger skimming the list of wines available. 

Joel nods, “Sure thing, darlin’.” 

You smile, looking down at the menu, deciding you much prefer darling to ma’am, especially in that sweet southern drawl of his. When the waitress returns, you both order food and a bottle of wine, which is quickly brought to the table, uncorked, with the dark red liquid poured into two glasses. The waitress leaves the bottle on the table as you raise your glass, Joel following suit, clinking them together before you take a sip. 

You’re watching as he does the same, a smaller sip than you, and then watch as his nose crinkles and he coughs a little. It makes you laugh, putting your glass down to cover your mouth a little. 

“Dunno why I said yes,” He shakes his head, “Fuckin’ hate wine.” 

You can’t help but properly laugh now, hoping that it puts him a little at ease. You reach over the table, lay your hand on his wrist just a touch, “What would you prefer to drink?” 

You don’t miss the way he subtly drags his wrist back from your touch, covering it by scratching at the skin on the side of his hand, but you don’t let it bother you. You’re a touchy person, it’s what makes you feel at ease mostly, but that doesn’t mean it works for Joel, so you fold your hands back in your lap. 

“Usually beer,” He mumbles, flagging down the waitress as she walks past to ask for just that, “Or whiskey.” 

“I don’t mind a beer,” You offer, trying to make light conversation, “But whiskey makes my throat burn.” 

He doesn’t offer much of a reply apart from a short hum from his mouth, his attention moving from you to the room around you, letting the table fall into silence. You look down at your lap, trying to think of things to say whilst you wait for your food. 

“So, Sarah, right?” You ask after his daughter, it’s something the two of you have in common at least, “You must be super proud of her, medical school is incredible.” 

“Yeah,” He says simply, “She’s a very smart girl.” 

You expect him to ask after Noah, ask him a little about what he’s like, maybe what his favourite subjects are at school or whether he’s in any sports clubs or anything, but he doesn’t offer anything else to you, doesn’t ask any questions. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, saved by the waitress dropping your meals in front of you, fresh tomato pasta with chicken for you and steak and mashed potatoes with asparagus for Joel. You swirl your fork through the pasta, scooping some into your mouth as Joel cuts into his steak. Your eyes are trained on him, watching how he eats - it’s one of your big tests, table manners, and to be fair to him, he passes with flying colours - sure he eats a bit fast, but it’s nothing off-putting, and he seems to be able to use a knife and fork properly and chew with his mouth closed, which is a far cry from the last person you’d been out with. 

“You look really good tonight,” You offer, setting your fork down for a moment, “The flannel is very Texas.” 

You think in the dim light you can see him flush a little, and you’ve not said anything that isn’t true, he does look good. Fucking great actually. Joel finishes swallowing, takes a swig of his beer. 

“Thank you,” He tips his head towards you, “You look nice too,” He brings his hand up to his face to motion, “Rosy cheeks.” 

You try not to let your disappointment show, it is a compliment after all, so you put all your focus back down into your meal, the two of you finishing your food in a rather awkward silence - you willing Joel to ask you something, to start a conversation, anything really. You watch as Joel pushes the asparagus around his plate after eating two of the spears, finishing off his steak and potatoes but leaving the rest of the greens. 

When the waitress comes back to clear your plates, she asks if you’d like the dessert menu. You look to Joel, who tips his head in a way to say it’s up to you, but this has quite possibly been the most excruciating few hours of your life, so you drain your glass of wine, tip the last of the bottle into the glass and sit to wait for the bill. 

“Listen,” Joel starts, dragging your attention from the bottom of your glass to him, a look of slight regret on his face, “I ain’t too good at all this,” He tries to explain, “It’s been a long time and I’m a little rusty.” 

You kind of want to wring his ass for it a little, but underneath his apparent disinterest, you can still see the nerves of the guy who first walked through the door, and you get it, you think you’d been similar when you first started dating again, but you don’t think you’d completely lost the ability to think of a single question. 

Joel insists on paying the bill and you don’t fight him for the privilege of splitting it - you think it might upset some of that southern chivalry he has and for someone else they’ll love that. It’s a silent affair as you both stand up, gather your things. 

“How are you getting home?” Joel asks, holding the front door open for you. 

“I can just grab a cab,” You smile, “How about you?” 

He points to a truck, “Only had one so I can drive home,” He explains, “Do you mind if I wait with you for your cab?” He asks, “I’d feel better knowing you get in one safe.” 

“Of course,” You smile, “The hostess called one for me, so it shouldn’t be long.” 

There’s another lull in conversation, thankfully your cab arrives quickly, saving the silence from falling into awkwardness again. Joel beats you to the door, opening it for you. 

“I would say it’s been nice meeting you,” He speaks, “But I feel like I made this real difficult, and I’m sorry for that.” 

Going to step into the cab, you stop, leaning down to put your bag in the back seat, pausing a little before you turn back around to him, meeting his eyes. They’re striking, dark brown and beautiful, and trying to tell you just how much he knows he’s messed up. It makes your heart sink because you feel that sadness too, knowing he had so much promise, that he understood you in a way you thought other people didn’t, without even needing to talk to you, he’s a single parent, he gets it, like other people don’t. It frustrates you, makes your breath catch in your throat and your eyes glass over. 

You bring a comforting hand to his shoulder, “It’s okay,” You add a smile at the end, “It takes some time to get used to this all again, I was the same,” You look down at your shoes,  “It’ll get easier each time you do it, I promise.” 

His head dips, regret flashed across his face, like he wishes he could go back and do it all over but better this time. 

“M’sorry, again,” His tone is low, morose even, then he dips, presses a soft kiss to your cheek, “Get home safe.” 

You flop down on your bed, hand running over your face, wondering at what point it had gone wrong. He’d had so much potential, had seemed like he could be so right for you, so what went wrong? 

No sooner have you sent the ‘home safe’ message to Dixie, do you feel the soft vibrating of your phone. You answer, put the phone on loudspeaker and set it by your head. 

“So, how did it go?” 

You groan, “He had so much potential Dix,” You let out a pained noise, “I don’t know where it went wrong?!” 

“Oh honey,” She coos down the phone, aware more than anyone how much you wanted to be done with dating and finally have someone you could spend time with, “What happened?” 

“I don’t even know!” You exclaim, “Like, I could tell he was nervous, and this was his first date in years, but it was like he’d never spoken to a woman in his life, it was so hard!” 

You can hear her sucking on her teeth on the other end of the phone, “Are you being too hard on him?” She asks, “You always say the cocky men are no good because they’re rehearsed, maybe he just needs time to warm up?” 

“Dixie, I’d need a flamethrower to warm him up!” 

That gets a giggle out of her, “Mama, listen to me,” She goes into serious mode now, “Not everyone is as seasoned as you at this, and if this was his first date in years and he comes face to face with you? Of course he’s going to be nervous, you can’t write him off just for that honey.” 

That’s when your truth really hits out, “But what if I spend all that time warming him up and it’s a waste of time? He could turn out to be no good for me and then I’ve wasted so much time instead of trying to find the right person.” 

“Honey, respectfully, you’re forty, not at the end of your life, I promise that maybe spending some time trying to unravel someone a little instead of writing them off immediately might actually be worth it.” 

“I don’t know, Dix…” You trail off. 

“Just sleep on it, okay?” She offers, “See how you feel when you wake up before you send him the ‘thanks but no thanks’ message.” 

“Okay, I promise.” 

The two of your say goodbye to each other, you stay led on the bed for a while before you push yourself up, plug your phone into the charger, noticing the notification from Hinge when your screen lights up. You can see it’s Joel’s name that sits on the front screen. You sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed, weighing up whether to read it or not. Deciding that if you do read it, you’re likely to make a decision against what Dixie told you, so you leave the notification sitting there, get yourself ready for bed and then will yourself to sleep without going over every second of the date wondering what you could have done differently.

[spookysteddie]

Call It What You Want

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!reader

18+ Minors DNI

part two

cw: unsupportive parents, hint at mentally abusive mother, negative media attention, talk of sex tape, food mentions (they go on a dinner date), reader is in therapy. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I've decided to make this a series that is loosely based off of reputation by Taylor swift. It literally all came to me in a dream last night lmao. If anyone has requests for these two and wants me to create lore pleeeeaaaseee request it. This is so fun for me!

...

Do not disturb was the best thing that could’ve ever been added to phones. Specifically because, without it, you would’ve gotten less sleep than you did (thanks to Eddie). 

Your phone is filled with messages, emails from the press asking for comments and messages from your parents. You’re barely awake before checking the tabloids and, as expected, you and Eddie are the top headlines. Everyone has something to say about your escapades last night, videos of you at the concert, photos of you getting out of the car with him and videos from the club. 

Social media influencer and rockstar Eddie Muson seen out together since miss Asher confessed her love for him

Good girl y/n Asher and Bad Boy Eddie Muson spotted together 

Is y/n Asher going down a dark path?

Social Media influencer shedding her good girl image as she parties with Corroded Coffin

You knew there would be some drama associated with you partying with the band. You knew there would be fans who would be disappointed in you. You also knew there was a high possibility someone would have photos of you around little white lines, leading to some assumptions about you. 

You didn’t care. 

You check your parents texts next and your stomach drops.

Momma: What are you doing out with that man?! Do you know his reputation? 

Papa: The last thing you need is your reputation being ruined! You will ruin your future if you continue with him.

The phone is taken out of your hand before you can respond to them, Eddie locking it and placing it behind you before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving light kisses on your bare skin. 

“You shouldn’t read what those pricks have to say.” He continues to leave kisses along your skin, “most of them talk out of their asses and don’t understand.” 

He’s right, of course you know that. You’ve had the most misogynistic shit written about you that you knew they would never write about the man behind you. You could smile weird and all of a sudden you’re the biggest cunt ever. You can never win. 

You sigh, settling into his hold. It’s not that you care about your reputation, shit like that changes faster than the weather and it’s not worth it to stress about it. But also, this is your job and the last thing you need is to lose sponsorships because you’re fucking Eddie. 

“I know. It’s just annoying cause no one is writing mean shit about you. It’s always about me and my life.” 

He hums, “nothing like good old fashion misogyny.” He says it with a shit load of sarcasm, knowing misogyny is not a good thing at all. But it makes you giggle all the same. 

“Wait!” You sit up, almost smacking him in the face with your head, “the poll! I wanna see it.” 

He grins as he hands you your phone. You ignore your parents, deciding you’ll deal with them later, and open up instagram. You win by a landslide, 86% of your followers voted you as prettier. 

Eddie laughs behind you. You turn to look at him, a huge grin on your face, “you owe me a date, Munson.” 

His eyes fall to your lips, making you lean in a little closer, “hows tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect,” you whisper as you close the gap and kiss him. 

… 

You can’t avoid your parents by the time you get home. They’ve been calling you for hours (hours you spent tangled up with Eddie in his bed). You know for a fact that it’ll be worse if you continue to ignore them. 

They answer within the first ring, “About time you called us back. We’ve been calling you for hours!” 

“Yes, momma, I know. I was busy with Case and Anna.” 

You hear her exasperated sigh from your mother, “yeah? For what? Cleaning up the mess you made last night?”

You’re trying to keep your composure, not wanting to yell at your mother, no matter how many times she made you feel horrible about any little decision you made. She was still your mother. 

“Case and Anna knew about all of that. Ran it by them first like I’m supposed to do.” 

Your mothers attitude only grows, “so what they just approved of you running around with someone known to do drugs? Are you doing drugs? So help me God, y/n, if I find out your doing drugs, I will fly out th-” 

“Mom, I am not doing drugs. I went to his show, somewhere I’ve been before by the way, and then we went to a club. Which is something I do on the weekends anyway. I don’t see the big deal.” 

You hear her huff, “don’t you dare give me attitude, little girl.” You hate when she calls you that. It’s been her little tool your entire life. She's done it to make you feel small, to make you feel insignificant and, try as you might, it gets to you. 

“You better not be seen with him again, got it?” 

You can feel the anger getting to you, “mom, I am 25 years old. I don’t need you to tell me who I can and cannot date. He was very respectful actually. Didn’t pressure me to do anything. Now, I have some things to film before tonight.” You hang up before she can say anything else, throwing your phone onto your vanity and running your hands down your face.  

Hana clears her throat from where she’s leaning against the door frame. You know she heard that entire conversation. You’d told her when you got home everything, including your parents non-stop calling.

She hands you a coffee, made just how you like, “how was that?” 

You take a slow sip, savoring the sweetness, “same old mom. Thinks I’m ruining my life and my reputation.” 

“Well, do you think you’re ruining your life and reputation?” 

This is one thing you love about Hana is she doesn’t baby you. Ever. She always allows you room to feel your feelings before she gives you her opinion. But she also makes sure you are able to give a name to what you’re feeling. And right now, you’re feeling frustrated. 

“No. Hana, he was amazing. He was respectful and he always asked what I wanted. And god the sex was fantastic,” you sigh wistfully. “And we’re going out on a date tomorrow. Just him and I. And I was really excited but of course my mother likes to ruin everything.” 

Hana sits on the chair next to the vanity, taking your hand, “Listen to me, if you have a good feelin’ about it, I say go for it. I didn’t get any strange feelings or vibes last night, the opposite really. Also, fuck a reputation. Taylor Swift’s was six feet in the ground and look at her now. Do what makes you happy.” 

You can feel the tightness in your chest, backs of your eyes burning. All you can do is pull her into a bone crushing hug.

… 

You’re pretty much over your mothers comments by the next night. Of course your therapist heard all the details and said, basically, exactly what Hana did. She also told me that I am an adult and I am more than able to make my own choices when it comes to things like drugs and alcohol.

She’s right of course. 

And so, because of this realization that isn’t a realization, you keep the date with Eddie. In fact you’re more than excited to go. To see him again. You filmed all your content, posting the other nights ‘spend the day with me’ video you made.

You’ve even gained a shit ton of followers as well, most of them fans of the bands. Now, don’t get it twisted, the uptick in followers also means an uptick in hate comments and unfollows. You don’t care. Those people are entitled to follow whoever they want and the mean people clearly just have a lot going on in life. It comes with the territory. 

Eddie, however, has texted you non stop and follows every single social media account you have. Even commenting on the videos and photos you posted. That got the press talking more and birthed a shit ton more butterflies into your belly. 

Eddie didn’t give you much information on what this date would be. All he told you was to dress nice and bring a jacket because it’s ‘getting chilly and you can’t catch a cold.’ You tried explaining that’s not how colds work but he wasn’t having it. And so, you pick out one of your favorite dresses, short and black that makes your tits look killer, with stockings that snap onto a garter hidden under your dress. Of course you added a long trench coat just to keep you warm. 

Eddie picks you up at 7pm on the dot, not a second later. Again, the bar is in hell because the fact that he is on time makes you want to kick your feet like a little girl. He looks delicious, dressed in his black jeans and a black button up. He grins when you open the door, the chilly night air tickling your legs.

“Give me a spin, Miss Asher,” he smiles. 

He takes your hand, spinning you around a few times. Once semi quickly and once very slowly, drinking you in like he’s been in the desert for years. It’s kindling to the fire inside your heart, warming you from the inside out. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He kisses your cheek, never letting go of your hand. 

You can feel your entire body heat, a shudder wracking through you. “You’re beautiful too. So, so, pretty.” 

You watch a blush tinge his cheeks, “no one has ever called me pretty to my face… and meant it.” 

He opens the door to his car as he speaks, making sure you don’t hit your head getting in before running around to the other side and settling in the driver's seat.

“Well, for the record, I do mean it. I mean, who in the hell looks that gorgeous first thing in the morning?” You giggle as you say it, fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

He takes your hand, squeezing it twice, “you.” 

That makes you smile the entire way to the restaurant. 

… 

This is the most beautiful date you’ve ever been on. 

Eddie had it all planned out perfectly. There was no press standing outside, waiting to take candid shots. He rented out the entire restaurant so that there would be no interruptions, just you and him and the small waitstaff. Flowers litter the floor, a small walkway leading to the table, a bottle of your favorite wine sitting in ice. 

You smile, looking up at him with hearts in your eyes. He can feel his heart racing, scared you aren’t going to like it or it’s too much or he’s scared you away. It feels like it’s forever before you answer him. “This is beautiful, Eddie. You didn’t… you didn’t have to do all this. But it’s so appreciated.” 

He gives you a swift kiss, his heart feeling like it’s going to burst, “you deserve it. You deserve to feel appreciated and cared for.” 

“Well, that is exactly how I feel right now.”  

Eddie pulls out your chair, letting you sit before he takes his own. The candles on the table flicker, casting Eddie in the most beautiful glow ever. He’s radiant, beautiful, and you don’t know how anyone could hate him. You felt like you could see his soul when he looks at you, kind, sweet, angelic. 

The waiter interrupts your thoughts, introducing himself and pouring the wine. And once all the food is ordered, it’s just you and Eddie. Suddenly, you’re nervous. 

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” You cringe slightly at the generic question. You’d talked to him all day yesterday between filming and his studio time. Releasing a new album takes a lot of time, more time than more people would think. 

“It was good. I feel like we finally have the sound we’re going for nailed down. S’gonna be similar to what we always do, of course. But I felt like, based off the songs we wrote, we needed a more,” he sipped his wine, thinking about how to describe the sound. “... sensual sound. Sexy if you will.” 

You giggle a little, “so you basically wrote about your groupies.” You’re joking, of course, not really caring about the people who came before you. Kind of. 

He raises his brows, shaking his head, “no. I actually spent most of yesterday rewriting the songs I wrote. Not all of them, but a good few.” 

“Oh! So did you record at all yesterday?” Again, it’s a generic question, but you’re genuinely interested in the process and how his mind works. 

He nods, “we did! It’s fucking thrilling to get what’s in my brain into actual art. I can’t believe I get to do this for a job.” 

Eddie's eyes practically sparkle as he talks about how exciting his job is. You love to see it, honestly. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on stage, fans screaming and singing the songs he wrote back to him. You can imagine that’ll get someone real high. 

He interrupts your thoughts, “can I ask you a question?”

You freeze, stomach falling to your ass. It’s never good when someone starts off like that. You grab your wine trying to hide your shaking hands, “yes of course!” 

“To me, it feels like there is something missing in a few of the songs. I’m pretty sure it’s y-your voice,” his stutter makes you feel a little better inside. He’s nervous. “So I was wondering if you’d wanna record some things with me?”

“Eddie, I can’t sing.” 

He smirks because you didn’t say no. “You don’t have to. I just need your voice. For the record, when I say record some things with me I don’t mean like sex videos… unless you’re into that.” You both laugh at how ridiculous he is, but a small pulse between your thighs tells you that you might be into making a little movie for just you and him. 

“While sex videos could be fun, that shit is so scary. Anyone can hack into whatever we use and boom… careers over. As for my voice, absolutely. I’m honored actually.” And you are. To have your voice be on something forever is so fucking cool. Of course, the internet is forever, but to you, it’s different when it’s music. 

“One more question…” 

You nod, motioning for him to continue. 

“Can I use your moans in a song?” 

You nearly choke on your wine, eyes going wide. “My-my moans? Like from when we have sex?” 

“Mhm. They are so fucking beautiful, baby. As much as I want to keep every part of you for myself, your moans would fit perfectly in this one song I have.” 

You have to be 50 shades of fucked up because you’re actually fucking touched that he thinks that part of you is pretty enough to put in his music. No one has to know if they’re real or not. And you don’t even have to answer the questions if anyone asks if it’s you. 

You laugh, shaking your head, “you, Eddie Munson, are crazy. I’m here for it but do you think your fans will like it? I don’t want you to do this just because we fucked the other night. I like you and you don’t have to put my anything in songs to get me to stick around. I don’t just like you because you make music.” 

He looks a little stunned, almost like he doesn’t believe you. “I… you don’t have to lie, baby. I mean, fuck, I’m not trying to call you a liar. I just am not used to people liking me as me. Usually they just want me because then it’s like a bragging thing. Not that, that’s what you are here for. Fuck, I am really fucking this up.” He rubs the back of his neck, his other hand clenched. 

You grab that hand, forcing yours into it and rubbing your thumb on his wrist, “I understand what you mean, Eddie. I’m not offended. But I mean what I said. I’m not here to further my career. I’m here because I’ve had a sickening crush on you for years. My poor friends have had to listen to me go on and on about it.” You laugh, feeling your face heat as you confess all this to him. 

“Really?” He looks like a boy, big, brown puppy eyes staring up at you. 

You nod, “really. Hana was ready to throw me a party because I finally got a date with you.”  

He laughs, the sound loud and from his belly. 

You decide right then that you will do whatever it takes to keep him forever.

[luvhughes43]

tuition payments | hughes!sister

[luvhughes43 masterlist🌷]

request: hi!! i love your work and would like to know if you could do hughes brother x younger hughes sister as the reader, who is short money to go to college and is afraid to ask her brothers first help hut once they find out they help her out?

word count: 0.6k

with your parents' new jobs, they were off the grid for awhile while they tended to their clients and hockey prospects. you knew that in advance, which is why your parents had paid for your tuition before their schedules became busy. so when you got an email on monday saying your tuition was overdue, you were shocked to say the least. 

there was $3 000 pending in your account, which meant your scholarship hadn’t gotten cleared again. you emailed your school back immediately, asking about the money and if your credit could be used, but you didn’t get a reply. all you received were multiple OVERDUE messages, each promising to add more money as a late fee to your already high balance. 

you didn’t have enough money in your savings or chequings account to cover the remaining balance, and so you hastily picked up shifts hoping you could make enough to cover the costs. your friends downright asked why you couldn’t just ask your brothers for the money - and in truth you could, but it just felt wrong. you felt so bad for being dependant on everyone in your family, so if you could help it you would work for the tuition money.

you had almost saved enough when you got the email that your payment had gone through. you sighed in relief, thinking your credit went through but when you checked the app you saw that the remaining balance was paid via card. 

you didn’t have a second to think before a call from quinn lit up your phone. 

“hey quinny?” 

“why didn’t you tell me about your tuition?” he asks, getting straight to the point. 

“how do you know about that?” “dad told me before he went on his work trip to check your accounts and make sure everything was paid,” quinn states simply, and you wonder briefly how quinn even got into your school account before realizing your parents have your passwords. 

“oh…”

“why wouldn’t you tell us you had tuition due?” your brother asks again, this time his voice full of confusion. “like, we could’ve handled this sooner. at least you don't have any of the stupid fees,” he trails off. 

“i just,” you pause, feeling that your reasoning was stupid now that you were about to vocalize it. “i feel like i'm so dependent on you guys. i picked up a few shifts to try and make the money up but it just didn’t happen,” you sigh. 

quinns quiet on the phone and you shift uncomfortably. “you know we don’t care right?” 

“i care!” you huff before putting the call on speaker and laying down on your dorm bed. 

“i’m a millionaire,” quinn states simply. “your schooling is important. you’re not working full-time so you can focus on your studies” 

“i know but i still feel bad…”

quinn sighs, “literally don’t worry about it. nobody feels like you're dependent. you're a university student it’s normal to need help,” 

“okay…” your voice is quiet, and you feel a pang of guilt hit your chest. sometimes you just wish that you didn’t have to ask your brothers or parents for help. 

“i love you y/nny, if you need anything just call” 

“i love you too,” you reply. the siblings stay on the call for a few more minutes, just debriefing on life and the daily dramas. you always know, despite how guilty you may feel, that you’ll always have your brothers if you need help.

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Hii love<3 i hope everything is fine🫂

So the other day i accompanied my brother to pick up my niece from kindergarten and she went out with a boy was he carrying her backpack, that was nice 🥹 but i also saw my brother almost have a heart attack because she is his little girl (that was funny lmao) i thought it would be nice - fun something like that with Jack🥹🫶🏻 you can take it if you want (no pressure only yesterday i remembered it while i was reading that petition where B was talking about Patrick)

Sending you lots of love and hope you are having a good week🫶🏻🫶🏻ily😙

Hi love! Thank you so much, I am doing well and I hope you are too! This idea is so cute, thank you for sending it in!

'Are we good? I've got somewhere to be." Jack looked up from his phone at Nemo who was focused on the control board. "Your last verse was a little pitchy, wanna run it again?"

"I like pitchy, its my new sound." Jack joked as he checked the time on his phone, his leg jiggling up and down nervously.

Nemo gave Jack an incredulous look. "Man, what's going on with you? Any other time, if I called you pitchy you'd cuss me out and you've checked the time on your phone like five times in the last 10 minutes."

"He's got a date with his girl", Urban chuckled from his spot across the room. "Girl? I thought your wife was out of town", Nemo asked as he looked between the two of them. "My other girl, Liyah. Its just us this weekend so I'm gonna pick her up from pre-school and take her on a daddy-daughter date today."

A low rumble of "aws" echoed across the room, making Jack blush. "I can still take five minutes to cuss you out if ya'll don't stop", Jack warned as he got up and grabbed his things before heading out the studio, Nemo and Urban busting into laughter as soon as the door shut.

Luckily, Jack timed it just right so he was first in the carpool line with a perfect view of the door so he could see when Aaliyah came out. He answered a couple of work emails while he waited for school to end, jumping out of the car as soon as the bell rung to join the group of waiting parents. Jack rarely got a chance to pick the girls up from school, so he didn't recognize but a few parents he'd met when Aaliyah had a playdate, giving them quick waves hello.

"You must be Jack. Aaliyah talks about you all the time." Jack turned on his heels to acknowledge a voice behind him, coming into contact with a parent he knew he'd never met before. "Hi, I'm Sarah, Parker's mom." Jack took the extended handshake as he slid his phone in his back pocket. "Nice to meet you, Jack Harlow."

"Oh, I know all about you. Parker and Aaliyah have become good friends this year so I've heard all about your music career and how cool of a guy you are." Jack gave Sarah a gentle smile. "I guess paying your daughter does work after all", he said in jest, quickly backtracking when Sarah's face fell.

"I'm kidding, promise I don't pay my children to talk about my career", he bit at his bottom lip, wishing he hadn't made that joke. "Sure", she muttered, taking a step back.

Jack made a mental note to tell you to avoid Sarah in the future, quickly getting over his embarrassment as a bunch of kids came running out. He spotted Aaliyah within the busy crowd, her messy curls up in two ponytails, her face in that beautiful smile that reminded him of you. He took his eyes off of her for a second when he felt his phone buzz, checking his text messages in case it was work related.

"Daddy!" The smile that formed on Jack's face at the sound of Aaliyah's voice quickly turned into a scowl as he saw that she wasn't alone, holding the hand of a little boy her same height as they walked toward him. His breath hitched at the sight, his chest tightening as he tried to keep his composure. "Hi Daddy! Look, I colored you a picture!" She shook the pink construction paper in front of Jack, but he was to preoccupied trying to figure out who this boy was that was holding his precious baby girl's hand.

"Who's this, Liyah?" Jack dropped to his knees to be at eye level with his daughter, taking her backpack from her. "This is Parker! He's my boyfriend!" It took everything in Jack not to pass out on school grounds, his grip on her bag tightening. "Hi, Mr. Jack!", Parker answered, jumping up and down, swinging their arms between them.

"Hi, Parker", Jack mumbled, watching Sarah approach out of the corner of his eye. "Aren't they so cute? They think they're boyfriend and girlfriend", she chuckled, reaching out for Parker, who took her hand. "I wouldn't call it cute, but what do I know?", he gritted out between clenched teeth. Jack didn't mean to sound argumentative, but he sent off a pre-schooler to school this morning and he was picking up a teenager. "Alright baby, let's go." He gave Sarah a weak smile as he grabbed his daughter's hand.

"Bye Parker! I see you soon!" Aaliyah broke away from Jack to give Parker a hug before catching back up with him. "Yeah, bye Parker, see you never again." Jack mocked as they walked to the car, his face scrunched up in irritation.

****

"Baby, we need to find a new preschool for Aaliyah." Jack stroked his beard, his gaze focused on the ceiling. He had his phone rested on his chest as he laid in bed talking to you, the house quiet with Aaliyah asleep.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, even though he couldn't see you. "Like hell we do, Jack. We were on a three year waiting list for that school. What happened?"

"Parker." Jack grumbled out, making you laugh out loud. "Ah, so you finally met Parker." That made Jack quickly shoot up. "You knew about him?"

"About your three year old daughters harmless little boyfriend? Yes, yes, I did." Jack scoffed, throwing himself back down on the pillows. "I don't know about harmless, baby. They were holding hands and everything."

"Jack, please, don't start. Liyah is only three years old, she thinks she's in love with every boy she meets because that's all she knows." The only thing Brooklyn and Aaliyah knew about love at a young age was from watching you and Jack, who even so many years later were still head over heels in love with each other. It set a great example, but they were both so young and didn't understand different types of relationships yet. "She sees the way we are around each other, and thinks that how you act with people you love."

"I guess", Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair, "it just made me realize she's not my baby anymore."

"Jack, you're getting way ahead of yourself. She is only three, she still needs you for pretty much everything, and she loves you so much more than she does anyone else, including her boyfriend." You threw that in knowing that would irritate him, hearing Jack shiver over the phone. "Stop using that word, please."

"Fine", you giggled, "but you still have plenty of years before you have to worry about any real boyfriends. Plus, I'm pretty sure Parker is your biggest fan."

"What does that say about me, that my biggest fan is a toddler?", Jack asked, but you chose to ignore his quip. "So we can stay at this school?"

"Yes, we can stay at this school. We do have to avoid Parker's mom, Sarah, though." That caught your attention. "Why? I like Sarah. We're on the PTO together."

Jack let out a nervous chuckle. "She may or may not think that we pay our daughters to talk about how good of a rapper I am."

[enluv]

The Wedding Date

PAIRING! - jay park x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! - When invited to her younger sisters wedding in two weeks, Y/N L/N faces traveling alone back to Korea for the ceremony. While this seems bad enough, Heeseung, the man who left her with no explanation after four years of dating, happens to be the groom's best man. Determined to show everyone - most of all Heeseung - that her romantic life is as full and thrilling as ever, Y/N hires the ever so charming Jay Park as her date.

word count: 7.4K+!

warnings: angst, suggestive content - it’s implied and mentioned that reader & jay did the devils tango so please note this fic is16+ BUT it’s nothing crazy so just be warned, profanity, cheating, heeseung is super duper not cool in this tbh, lmk if I missed anything !!

genre(s): 16+!! - there are no descriptions of sexual acts but it is stated briefly so read at your own risk, rom-com, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, rent-a-boyfriend, & also slow burn romance but fast paced story

coco’s love note: this story is based on and inspired by the movie “the wedding date” some parts will be similar and depict similar instances while some will be different to fit the characters and the plots I’m writing for them! thank you so much & enjoy! (remember feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3)

"You are cordially invited to the wedding of Park Sunghoon and L/N Soohee to celebrate their marriage this June 30th at three o'clock.”

The words on the wedding invitation make your eyes roll, it’s laughable. Knowing neither of you had talked in almost two years it was a wonder why Soohee had chosen to invite you to her wedding. Perhaps it was your mother, she'd always wanted her two girls to get along at some point, but that was easier said then done. Or maybe it was your stepfather? He'd always said you were his favorite, maybe he'd somehow convinced her to invite you. Attending the wedding wasn't what worried you the most though, it was the thought of showing up alone.

Sure you could show up flying solo and hope no one would bat an eye, but did you really want to put yourself through that? The millions of whispers thrown at you as you walk by with no one on your arm? Absolutely not.

That's what brings you here, on a hot summers day as you read the morning paper from the patio of your home. The ads all consist of different services, some are posted for models, some plumbers, even things like babysitting, but you're on the hunt for one thing and soon enough an ad catches your eye. It’s perfect. The ad reads -

"Rent-A-Boyfriend: Are you in need of a date? Want to keep your parents off your back? Need to brag to your friends? Have to keep the relatives at bay? Well look no further! Hire me, Jay Park, profesional boyfriend. I can be anything you need me to be for any occasion! Shoot me a text at XXX-XXX-XXXX or email me at jay.park@gmail.com! Business inquiries only. Excited to date you soon!”

The ad had done its job and quickly enough you'd left Jay exactly seven different voice messages.

— YOU HAVE SEVEN VOICE MESSAGES, TO LISTEN: PLEASE PRESS NUMBER ONE.

VOICE MESSAGE #1 (9:17 PM):

"Errmmm...oh! It’s recording haha. Hello! This is Y/N L/N, umm so basically...oh um sorry I am so nervous haha. Okay so basically my name is Y/N and I need a date for my sisters wedding this month. Normally I'd have a date by now but I don't have the time to go out and date someone for two weeks and then force them to go to Korea with me ya know? So that's where I was hoping you'd come in! Oh shoot my time is running out...ummm okay give me a seco-"

VOICE MESSAGE #2 (9:23 PM):

"OH! HI! Sorry it cut me off last time haha oopsie! Anyways so basically the reason I need a date is because well basically I have this ex boyfriend his name is Heeseung and he kinda sorta dumped me like out of nowhere about two years ago. It was super sad but I was just like eh whatever dude. Then I came here to America haha not a good idea, anyways so yeah and he's gonna also be at that wedding because his best friend is actually the groom which makes him the best man and I can't-"

VOICE MESSAGE #3 (9:34 PM)

"Sorry cut off again but I can't show up alone it would be so embarrassing and we were engaged too by the way I don't know if I mentioned that already but yeah we dated for almost four years and he proposed to me and then boom just ended it so that's why I cannot by any means show up alone. Plus this is my baby sister that’s even more embarrassing, my younger sister getting married before me? Total loser moment."

VOICE MESSAGE #4 (10:45 PM):

"Sorry I forgot to give you details about the wedding lolz. It'll be in Korea, the countryside to be specific. It's on June 30th at 3pm at a wedding Chapel in the town we grew up in. We have to be there a week before. No worries though, l'II pay for our plane tickets. Since I'm the sister of the bride I have to do a lot of things with the bridal party and since you'll be my boyfriend you'd be doing things with the groomsmen. Sorry if that's too soon for you or if it doesn't work with your schedule, I'll pay you double I swear! I just really need this, need your help Jay."

VOICE MESSAGE #5 (11:38 PM):

"Um hi again, this'll be quick I promise. I just wanted you to know that if you can't do this it's okay! Thank you for your time. I really appreciate you.”

VOICE MESSAGE #6 (12:49 AM):

"Oh shit sorry this was an accidental dial. Have a good night haha! Sorry again!”

VOICE MESSAGE #7 (1:23 AM):

"Just give me a call back at XXX-XXX-XXXX if you do want to take the job and if not, no worries! I completely understand how last minute this may be. Have a good night Jay, sweet dreams."

— YOU HAVE ONE NEW VOICE MESSAGE: TO LISTEN PLEASE PRESS NUMBER ONE.

VOICE MESSAGE #1 (3:45 PM):

"Hey Y/N, this is Jay. I got your messages...all seven of them. No worries, I'd be happy to play your boyfriend at your sisters wedding, and about your ex, don’t even worry about him, we'll make sure he regrets his decision to ever leave you. You said we leave next week? Just send me the plane ticket and I'll be on that flight. See you soon Y/N, and don't worry too much, you've got this."

“Woah! Hottie in aisle three am I right?!”

“What are you talking about Sunoo, stop staring at the people riding our planes. It’s a long way back to Korea they don’t need you ogling them for all ten hours.”

“Excuse me but did you not say you’re waiting for your rent-a-boyfriend? Babes I think that’s him.” Sunoo points his perfectly manicured finger towards aisle three where a man dressed in black slacks and a white button up sits comfortably flipping through a book. His head turns up as he feels your eyes on him and a smile flashes across his face.

“Alright, go meet your hunk and sit down, we’re taking off soon anyway.”

You begrudgingly take a seat in front of him, if you’d known he’d be this attractive you’d definitely not have hired him.

“Are you Y/N L/N? Or am I completely wrong and making a fool out of myself?”

His voice is sweet, soft and husky, you turn slightly to face him and meet his soft eyes. No judgement is seen on his face.

“Hi! Yes I am Y/N, I’m assuming you’re Jay? Well you probably are haha, because I got you the seat behind me…okay so anyways hello!”

He laughs softly and nods his head, “Get some rest Y/N, we have a long week ahead of us. When we land let’s go find you a dress and talk business, that okay with you?” Your nod of confirmation has you both relaxed as you turn back around to do just as he said.

“How does this one look?”

“I think you look great in it, remember you’re beautiful and you’ve got a lot going for you. He’s gonna regret ever breaking up with you.”

“Ugh I can’t do it, I need to look good so no one asks me any kinds of questions!”

“Y/N I think you’re overthinking this a bit, just go with whichever dress makes you feel the most beautiful.”

“I think you look the best in the red one, uh personally speaking.” Jay eyes the boy cleaning the other dressing rooms and nods with a tight lipped smile.

“Hmm thanks kids, I’ll keep that in mind.” Pushing back in your eyes fall onto the hanging red dress.

“Alright so let’s talk business, we need a story. You’re the new temp at my job and we just started dating, let’s just say four months ago. You’re crazy about me and I asked you out because surprise surprise I’m also crazy about you too.”

He nods and gets up to leave the room but right as his hand reaches the doorknob you pull him back, closing the dressing room door.

“Here,” you shove an envelope into his hands, “count it. It’s six thousand even.”

Jay takes the envelope and begins putting it into his pocket but you insist he counts the money, he does so with an amused smile flashing across his face.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll pay for the expenses but if you ever want a piece of this,” he gestures to himself playfully, “we gotta talk money before anything happens.” Your scoff makes him chuckle, he’d only been kidding, he’d most definitely let you have him for free if you asked.

Jay takes in the venue of your sisters engagement party. It’s big enough to host more than fifty people, and it’s doing the job pretty well. He can tell you have a big family. From what you’d mentioned, your mom was Korean but moved to America for school and originally met your dad their but when he was out the picture she met your stepfather and the rest was history. Now your little sister, presumably the petite brunette eyeing you both now, was getting married to someone you’d both grown up with and his best man was you ex. Jay thinks your ex is a dumbass but he’s held his tongue on that thought knowing you’d probably get upset with him.

While he’d only known you for a few hours tops (not including your plane ride) he knew you were a kind person. You’d rambled to him about how you and your sister hadn’t spoke in two years yet here you were back at home to spend her wedding with her. He found it odd how you said yes to joining her bridal party activities but chose not to question you. He never understood sibling love much.

He watches as your sister runs towards you pulling you into a big hug, her smile never quite reaching her eyes but you’d never pick up on it if you weren’t paying close attention. He takes a note to ask you later why you two haven’t spoken in so long, but before he can gather his thoughts her voice breaks him out of it.

“So Y/N, who’s this? He’s cute…” her voice trails off and makes Jay internally cringe, it’s obvious she wants a reaction out of you.

He watches as you calmly turn towards him, resting an arm on his as you say, “This is Jay, he’s my boyfriend of four months. I decided I would take you up on that plus one offer!”

Momentarily your sisters eyes flash with what seems to be jealousy or maybe sadness, Jay can’t tell but he knows she looks anything but happy which is odd for someone about to marry the love of their life.

“Wow that’s great! How’d you two meet?”

“We met at work. I thought she was the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen in my life so I told her. She asked me out right after and the rest is history.” He pulls you closer and pecks your temple once he’s done answering. He knows just how to push buttons, especially with people like your sister.

At that very moment Park Sunghoon, your childhood best friend and sisters fiancé walks over pulling Soohee into a sloppy kiss, Jay notes he seems tipsy and excited about something. He watches your sisters demeanor change in an instant the minute Sunghoon walks over.

“Woah Y/N it’s been too long, I’ve missed my best friend, you have to visit more often seriously.”

“Oh I’m Park Sunghoon, Soohee’s fiancé and Y/N’s friend, we haven’t met before but I’m happy to see Y/N has someone to put a smile on her face.” His smile is captivating and contagious. Sunghoon seems like a nice enough guy in Jay’s eyes.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Jay leans over and offers a hand. “I’m Jay, Y/N’s boyfriend. She told me you invited me to join in on the groomsmen activities, thanks a lot I’m excited.”

“Of course! Any friend of hers is a friend of mine. Let me get your number and I’ll add you to the groupchat, we start soon so just be ready.” With the promise to text soon Sunghoon and Soohee are quickly whisked away leaving Jay with Y/N.

“Your sister seems…nice…”

Y/N can’t hide her laugh as she straightens her dress out, “Mhm love her to death but she can be a lot, now if you’ll excuse me I need to pee, I’ve had way too many drinks! Wait for me here.”

When exiting the bathroom you never thought you’d run into Lee Heeseung here of all places. It seemed as if lady luck was anywhere but on your side, as you watch him emerge from the door next to the same one you’d just came out of, his eyes grow wide as he spots you, quickly making his way towards you.

“Holy shit, Y/N! I was hoping I would see you here! You look beautiful as always.”

Your hearts beats as you look up towards him. It’d been almost a year since you’d last saw Lee Heeseung. He’d broken your heart in all of five minutes over the phone after spending a week in America with you. It was heart wrenching and soul crushing but you’d healed…or so you thought. Seeing Heeseung again was like ripping off a bandaid on a newly fresh wound. Heart begging to be held by him once more you knew immediately you had to find a way away from him and fast.

Thankfully just as you’d pulled away from his arms up ran your old friend Karina. She’d been someone you’d hung out with in high school and always called you up whenever you visited Seoul. Her squeals of excitement and hands pulling you into a hug helped with the longing to be next to Heeseung again. She looked towards him with hostility and popped the question right there in front of him.

“Y/N I’ve missed you so much! AH! Who’s the hottie you brought with you? Rumor has it he’s your new boyfriend…you tell me though, wanna hear it straight from the source herself.”

At this Heeseung’s head perks up from his previous gaze at the floor. He’s expecting to hear an answer, it’s obvious in the way his eyes stay on you.

“Oh. Um yeah. He’s actually my boyfriend. His name is Jay and we met at work. He’s the sweetest, you have to meet him! I’ll introduce you two soon.” Once again Karina’s squeals fill the air and Heeseung waves goodbye as she tugs you towards where Jay stands surrounded by your aunties. They seem to be enjoying the compliments he throws at them and you laugh quietly as you listen in on his conversations with them.

Jay watches as you stop to talk to someone by the doors of the bathroom, he contemplates walking over to you but decides to stop himself. He isn’t here to protect you, you can do that all on your own, he’s just here to provide some comfort in a stressful situation. His peaceful time of watching you is quickly interrupted when your aunties come over and preoccupy him. He’s done this before and is quick to play the best boyfriend he can be.

As soon as you walk over you’re pulled away by your aunties (much to his dismay) so Jay sets off to find something to keep himself busy. He soon spots the same man you were talking to earlier out on the balcony alone and decides to talk to him, he seems upset, might as well do something while you’re gone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jay asks walking over swiftly to the man and smiling down at him.

“Oh. Uh. I guess it can’t get any worse than this. There’s this girl who I care about a lot,” he pauses to look back inside and Jay follows his gazes to where you sit with your sister and friend from before and his mind begins to turn, “I guess you could say I love her but of course with my luck, she’s here with some other guy.”

Jay lets out a low whistle and begins to talk but before he can process the situation you’re asking him if he’s okay and giving him a kiss on the lips, it leaves him dazed.

“Hey Y/N.” Heeseung says once quietly.

“Hey Y/N.” He repeats, this time louder than before.

Jay has a sudden realization as he looks back up at Heeseung, this is your ex, the same ex who broke your heart and the reason you hired him to be here.

“Oh hey Hee! Jay, this is Heeseung, he’s my ex.”

“Ah that’s why you looked a bit familiar.”

“What were you two talking about?”

“We were just-” Heeseung begins to talk but Jay cuts him off.

“I was telling him how we met.”

Heeseung nods frantically and stands tall again, he nervously grabs his cup and smiles, “I should head back inside, I’ll see you two later.”

“Did you see his face? Omg he looked so freaked out!”

“Mhm, and he told me he’s still head over heels in love with a girl he cares about a lot.”

Y/N’s bright smile bubbled up a feeling in Jay’s chest, but he shook it off as quickly as it came.

“Let’s get going pretty girl, I still need to meet your parents.”

Your house is huge, and yeah sure Jay is used to big houses, he grew up comfortably so houses around him were on the bigger side, but this house - your house is massive. He’s in awe as you stumble threw the front door hand in hand. A woman who looks just like you approaches speaking so quickly that Jay misses her question, but thankfully you’re quick to answer it.

“Hi mom. This is Jay,” a silent pause ensues after you reveal who he is to her.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Jay, sorry we don’t have a spare room for you. We weren’t exactly expecting you, Y/N has never really brought you up.” Jay can tell immediately who your sister takes after.

“No worries ma’am, I can just stay with Y/N.”

“Oh sorry my mom has this thing against boys sleeping with girl-”

Your mothers scoff cuts you off, her head shaking slowly, “Nonsense Y/N, you’re an adult. I know you two sleep together it’s normal, he’ll stay with you.”

You nod back at her wide eyed, and just as you’re about to speak a man pops up next to your mother, this time Jay does know who he is. Your lock-screen holds a picture of you two at a concert and you’d pointed out exactly who your stepfather was to him immediately. He waves a quick hello at Jay and pecks your temple, but he’s quick to whisks your mother away sending you a wink. Once you’ve made it to your room it’s almost midnight and both of you are exhausted from traveling and the party.

“Y/N, I’m gonna go ahead and shower, could you hand me my shampoo? I forgot to grab it and I’m already in.”

“Huh? Oh! Shampoo right…yeah of course I’ll get it right now.” Trudging over to Jay was easy, avoiding looking at the almost see-through shower curtain covering him was completely different. He smiles once you hand over the shampoo and goes back to humming along to a song stuck in his head.

“Hey Jay, what’s your story, like how did you get into rent-a-boyfriend?” You ask him taking a seat on the lid of the toilet.

“Well I’m an only child and my parents where always busy, grew up with very little friends and I was very protected at that. I like to think I was the weird kid who ate glue…anyways once I got my much needed glow up I didn’t know what to do with myself so I just started messing around. Clubbing, drinking, sex, all of that you know. Anyways my friend Jake found rent-a-boyfriend,” he steps out of the shower and stands directly in front of you, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, “and the rest is history.” He sends you a smirk before reaching for his phone sitting next to you on the counter, giving you the perfect view of his toned chest.

“Whatever, so what you just agreed to be a fake boyfriend like that?”

“Mhm, I trust Jake with my life he’s my best friend, dude would never sign me up for something that he knew I’d hate. Now come on it’s time for bed.”

The next day wedding activities start quickly, your sister has a day planned full for the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Things ranging from kickball (which Jay seems to be very good at and just so happens to beat Heeseung’s team in) to separate bachelor and bachelorette parties.

Both parties go great, with both you and Jay enjoying yourselves equally, but if you’d asked the other you’d both say all you wanted to do was go back home and see each other. It was an odd realization knowing you’d feel better at home with Jay, a mere stranger in your eyes.

“Y/N! Ugh I’ve been looking all over for you! I missed you so much, you really suck for not visiting more. I know we’re half sisters but I love you!! I missed you so freaking much,” Soohee slurs her words into your ear as she pulls you into a suffocating hug. You nod uncomfortably and hug her back, patting her on the back as she signals the bartender for more drinks. Just from the way she stares at you, you know the night is going to be long.

On Jay’s end of things he’s forced to take home a very drunk Sunghoon, who now seems more like a friend then a stranger. Earlier he’d over heard Heeseung telling Sunghoon about how he didn’t trust him, and while normally Jay didn’t care much for how people saw him, Heeseung really irked him. Yet here he was now, helping his best friend stumble home after their night out.

“Don’t tell Heeseung I said this, but Y/N looks way more happy with you then she ever did with him. I mean don’t get me wrong he’s my best friend and I’d literally die for him but the way she smiles at you is so different from any way she’s ever looked at him. I heard you the other day, telling her she was strong and could face everyone again. I was standing next to the door you two were by, anyways yeah Heeseung would have never done that. I love that idiot to death but the second he decided to break things off with her was the second he lost a really great person. You’re lucky Jay, can you just please keep her happy?”

Jay nods at him and Sunghoon sends him a grin, he walks up the steps to his house and waves a final goodbye back to him. Sunghoon’s words play in Jay’s head like a turntable, were you really happy with him? Did he seriously make you happy? Giddiness spread through him as he made his way back to your home only a couple doors down, ready to see you for the night.

Walking back into your bedroom and seeing Jay laid out reading a book half naked was a sight you’d never get tired of. He looked up at you taking in your figure and smiled.

“How was your night pretty?” The low gruffness of his voice sent shivers down your spine as you walked closer, watching as he sat up to meet your eyes.

“Something on your mind?” He asks quietly taking your hands in his.

“I’m going to do something, and if you don’t want it just tell me no, okay?” Jay nods with curiosity in his eyes.

His eyes widen as you straddle his lap, kissing him softly. He wasn’t expecting that, but he’s not complaining, soon enough he’s kissing back and you’re both rushing to undress one another, Jay more than you.

The night ended far too quickly and as you wake up with a snug arm wrapped around you, the memories of last night come flooding back in. You’d had sex with Jay, your rented boyfriend for the week, but it seemed neither of you minded it much, both eager to be together last night. A smile forms across your face as you move to stand only to be stopped by his arm tightening around your waist.

You both stumble downstairs hand in hand, running into both your parents. Your father stares at you two and wishes you a good morning, but your mother seems to sense something is different with you both. She sets down her coffee mug and calls for your cook to make breakfast. Jay is quick to make you your morning tea. He remembers how much you hate coffee.

After the dance class your sister plans for both parties, you’re left walking around a park with Jay. He can sense something is off as you slip your hand away from his grasp.

“Y/N are you okay?”

“Do you regret last night?”

You both speak at the same time, laughing awkwardly as you gesture for one another to speak first.

“I don’t regret last night Y/N,” he pauses to grab your hand, “I actually enjoyed it very much.” His laugh fills the tension filled air between you two.

“Are you sure? I can seriously pay you if that’s what you want I mean-” a tug at your wrist stops you from finishing, Jay shakes his head at you.

“Y/N you’re a beautiful idiot,” he sighs pulling you closer, “I was joking about paying me, and if you must know I’ve never slept with a client, ever.”

“Then why did you sleep with me? Oh god did I take advantage of you in a drunken state? Oh my god Jay.”

“No you idiot, I did it because I’m attracted to you, and you’re attracted to me, we’re two consenting adults who find one another attractive so we acted on it, that’s all.”

You nod at his words, still not fully agreeing with him but there wasn’t any other explanation, you were attracted to him so just as he said, you’d acted on it, that was all.

You two spend the day getting to know one another even more, Jay tells you his likes and dislikes, mother and fathers name, how he met Jake, and more. You spend hours talking before falling asleep cuddled up on your bed, tomorrow you both had to be up early for Soohee’s final days of wedding activities, starting with a nice family get together at your parents lake house.

What happens the next day is not something Jay ever wanted to deal with. As he watches you twirl around with your friends and run through the field chasing Sunghoon surrounding the lake behind your parents house, his insides churn at the thought of what he just witnessed. Not even an hour before Jay had actually gotten your fathers approval, he sat him down and they talked for an hour, he’d told Jay the story of his first time being introduced to you as his wife’s daughter and immediately knowing you’d be someone special in his life. He recounted how not a day went by where he didn’t worry about you alone in America but when you had showed up with him, Jay, on your arm his worries dwindled at the loving looks Jay sent your way.

This was not fun anymore, the angel and devil perched on his shoulders were fighting over what to do with the information he’d learned. Either he tell you and hurt you, or he could keep it to himself and just pretend he never knew a thing. The latter sounded perfect in his mind.

“And well sometimes we find the best thing for us and you know that’s not the best thing for others, so you have to do what’s best for you as a person you know and so that’s why we as humans always pick what’s best for us, we’re pretty selfish if you think about it really.”

Looking anywhere but Heeseung you’d spotted Jay, he smiled and waved you over, quickly bidding Heeseung and his odd dialogue a goodbye you’d ran straight towards an awaiting Jay.

“You seem to be very popular today Mr.Park. First my dad and just now my mom? Something tells me they like you.”

His chuckle sends butterflies through your stomach, “Yeah they said they’re excited to welcome me to the family, something about you having a terrible ex who wasted your time for four years? Your moms words, not mine.”

“She hates his guts, glad she likes you though.”

He smiles leaning in to peck your lips, “Yeah I’m glad she likes me too, kinda plan on staying for a bit.”

“Hey lovebirds, we’re taking pictures, come here!”

The next day, is the day before the wedding and it’s just as packed as all the other days but this time it’s filled with anxiety, Soohee and Sunghoon are buzzing with anxious excitement, your parents are terrified for tomorrow and everyone is sitting anxiously awaiting to give their toast.

Soohee wanted a closed family rehearsal dinner so they’d decided today would be the day to do it.

Jay sits next to you with his left hand rubbing your thigh, he listens as your mother recounts how you and Soohee fought over a boy when you were in both in grade school, she theorizes that’s why you two have a hard time getting along. Everyone laughs at the stories spewing from both your parents, the atmosphere is almost perfect. Perfect however, does not exist within this realm of people.

“Hey babe, I’m gonna go get more wine, don’t miss me too much.” You whisper to Jay standing and walking off towards the wine cellar.

A pair of footsteps catches your attention and when you turn around you spot Heeseung.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“Heeseung, relax. It’s fine. I promise.”

“I just feel like I should tell you that, god this is so fucking hard.”

“Did you know, I actually brought Jay to make you jealous, to torture you for the week, but then I don’t know, something happened and now I’m just so freaking happy with him. He makes me so happy honestly, and if we’re being honest Hee, I am so tired of this, of me and you. I’m ready to move on for good so let’s just go back upstairs and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

The weight on your shoulders feels lifted, you’d been wanting to finally feel free from Heeseung for months now and finally you were able to do it. Finally you could be happy and be with-

“I slept with Soohee, Y/n. I slept with your sister and I think I’m in love with her. It was two years ago, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore, that’s why I broke up with you, and then after we broke up we keep sleeping with each other for a few months. We stopped because of you, we knew it was wrong.”

“Can you please say something Y/N. Please just say anything please.” His pleas pierced your ears.

The wine cellar had begun to spin, the second he’d first told you, the room went dark and you couldn’t breathe properly. What the fuck just happened. Heeseung and Soohee slept together? He had cheated on you with your sister? He was in love with her.

Walking out the cellar Heeseung followed quickly behind, soon enough you’d made it back outside to the dinning area, Karina spotted you two and smiled wide but it soon dropped at your demeanor.

“Oh my god he told you didn’t he.”

“You knew?”

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“You sound just like him.”

“I promise it’s not like that Y/N-“

“Y/N?” Soohee’s voice pierces through the air around you and you know she knows what’s happening.

“Y/N please listen to me,” she tries resting her hand on your shoulder but you push her off, “Y/N please don’t say anything to Sunghoon. Please, I’m begging you.”

Strong arms pull you into them and you’re quick to hug him back. Jay feels like a breath of fresh air in the seemingly smog filled venue.

“I can’t believe you told her!” Soohee shouts as Jay stills in your arms and your world crashes all over again.

Jay watches as you take a step away from him, pushing him towards the others who’d betrayed your trust. His heart aches at the look you send him, he knows he’s fucked up, he’s fucked up really bad.

He chases after you as you walk away from the venue, he needs to make things right.

After the talk with your dad, Jay realized he’d forgotten the sun hat you’d asked him to bring outside for you so he trudged back inside to grab it but loud arguing distracted him. Being the gentleman he was, Jake liked to call him that at least, he walked over to the room to see what was happening and standing before him he saw Soohee and Heeseung. The arguing continued as he stepped into view of them.

“I love you Soohee, I miss us, I miss you.”

“Heeseung no. I love Sunghoon, we slept together for a few months but that is all it ever was. I am getting married to Sunghoon, your best friend.”

“You don’t think I know that? It kills me to see you with him!”

Jay is left speechless, your ex Heeseung and your very own sister, had slept together. He had to get away from them both, now.

“Jay? How long have you been standing there.” Soohee’s voice broke him out his thoughts and when he looked back up Heeseung was gone.

“I don’t know what you heard but it’s in the past Jay, it’s not important anymore, please just stay out of it, it doesn’t involve you.” She pushes past him out the door he’s standing next to. Jay is left wondering what to do with the information he’s just been presented..

“You knew and you didn’t tell me? How could you do that to me Jay?”

“What did you want me to say? It’s harder than it seems Y/N.”

“You lied to me. But I guess I should have expected that since that’s what you do. That’s who you are Jay, you’re a liar.”

“Really Y/N? Should I remind you that you hired me. You hired me to be your boyfriend, you’re paying me.”

“You’re right. I paid six thousand dollars for a lie and in the end I’m the only one coming out a fucking fool.”

“Hate me all you want Y/N, but it’s time you get over this Heeseung thing, you’re dragging it out, maybe now though, once you move on from Heeseung, you can cry over our relationship long enough and let it ruin your next one too.”

“Y/N? I came to say thank you for not outing me to Sunghoon today. I’m going to tell him, I just don’t want to tell him the night before our wedding.”

“You’re smart Soohee, telling him after the wedding allows you to trap him, because you know the minute he finds out you fucked his best friend repeatedly behind his back he’ll want to leave, but he won’t be able to because he’s married to you.”

“Don’t worry Soohee, your wedding tomorrow will be perfect. I’ll smile for the camera and keep my mouth shut but after tomorrow I never want to see or speak to you again. I hope you have a happy marriage built on the lies you created. Sunghoon deserves better then you’ll ever be able to give him.” Soohee’s quiet sobs lessen as she leaves the room. Finally you had some peace.

The day of the wedding felt like a blur, you’d woken up early to get your hair and makeup done, smiling when needed and laughing at whatever the bridal party said. It felt like you were a shell of nothing in your own body. Soohee tossed glance after glance at you, looking away quickly when you’d catch her. She’d never been one to like when people were upset with her and you knew it was driving her crazy to not know what you were thinking. Truth be told at any moment you could call up Sunghoon and tell him the truth, but a voice of reason seemed to still be lingering in your mind and it made you hope she’d do the right thing, tell him before the wedding continued, yet so far it didn’t seem like she’d be doing that.

Everyone rushed around the wedding chapel to get things in order, photographers and other vendors Soohee had hired ran around finding their places to make sure the day went as planned but the nerves in her stomach just wouldn’t go away. The echo of your words rattled in her mind, would she really be trapping Sunghoon? She knew if it were her, she’d want an out. She cursed you in her head as she made the decision to do the right thing, he deserved to know at least. Hopefully he’d be able to forgive her, hopefully he still wanted her.

Jay thinks whatever god is looking down on him right now is probably laughing his ass off at his suffering. He knows he shouldn’t have snapped back at you, especially not with the state of mind you had been in. It fucking broke him to hear your sobs as he turned away from you. On top of all that, now he was just going to up and leave you. He’d bought a plane ticket back home last night after talking to Sunghoon. He didn’t spill any descriptive details, and had told him a less intense version of your fight. Sunghoon laughed in his face and told him he was just in love. Jay told him to fuck off and shut up.

As he drove down the roads of the rural Korean countryside, thoughts filled his mind. He brought the car to a stop and contemplated what to do. On one hand, he had a plane ticket and his suitcases packed to go back home right now but on the other, all he had to do was turn around, pray you’d forgive him, apologize, and admit that Sunghoon was right.

Pulling him from his thoughts was the man himself, speak of the devil and he shall appear apparently. Jay looked up to find Sunghoon chasing after a very scared looking Heeseung. Someone had finally told him then, that was good. He watched as Sunghoon tackled Heeseung and they rolled down a hill. Heeseung escaped and continued running, never looking back. Sunghoon on the other hand stopped to catch his breath, catching sight of Jay in his car. He waved him down and hopped into the seat next to him.

“I love Soohee, I really do. I’m going to forgive her, she said they slept together before we officially got together and it stopped once I asked her out. I just wanted to beat his ass because he hurt Y/N.”

Jay nodded as Sunghoon rambled on about how insane Heeseung was for ever doing what he did to you. He blamed them both but he could only poor his anger out on Heeseung right now.

“Do you think I’m crazy for taking her back? For still wanting to marry her?”

“No, you love her, anyone can see. I think she’s obviously sorry, she could have not told you and just made you marry her but she gave you a choice and came clean. When you love someone you have that kind of courage, and you let others dictate your life for you even if one of the outcomes could ruin you forever.” As Jay spoke aloud to Sunghoon reality set in, he needed to go back to you, to apologize for his mistakes, to show you he loved you and accepted you and anything you decided he was worthy of having.

“Looks like we’ve got a wedding to go back to then, and I’m out a best man so what do ya say?”

Jay smiled and nodded at Sunghoon.

“Hell yeah man, let’s go.”

Seeing you again felt surreal, it made Jay’s heart beat a million times per minute. You looked gorgeous in the bridesmaids dress Soohee had picked for you, your hair beautifully styled to perfectly match you. Jay had never felt this happy, he’d never felt so excited to do something.

As Sunghoon had ran past you, Jay jogged up to you, pulling you into a kiss, he’d been wanting to kiss you again for so long, he melted within the first second of it.

“God Y/N, you have no idea how fucking sorry I am, I love you and I should have told you about Heeseung and Soohee, I just couldn’t bring myself to break your heart. I never want to be the one to hurt you, I love you so damn much, I’d rather give you up then hurt you. I know it hasn’t been long but I feel like we’ve known each other for years. I want to take you on a date, a real one, and I want to be your boyfriend, your real boyfriend, not one you rented for a week, and I need you to know that I’ll take anything you want to give me, I didn’t mean what I said yesterday, you didn’t ruin anything. Hell I’m the one ruining things. I just need you to know I care about you.”

“I realized today that I could never do what I did without you this past week. You are quite literally the best fake boyfriend anyone could ask for. I want to have you to myself Jay, don’t want to share you with anyone else, I’m done sharing. I want you to be mine, but really mine, not for a week, for a lifetime.”

“Glad we’re on the same page beautiful. We can talk more when we have the time but right now we have to head inside, I’m sorta the best man.”

Epilogue

Jay has you pressed against his kitchen counter attacking your neck when banging on his apartment door brings you both out of the lovestruck trance you’re currently in.

“Open up you fucker!”

Jay rolls his eyes at the voice clearly recognizing it immediately, but as he goes to open the door it flies open, hitting the back wall.

“Why’d you quit rent-a-boyfriend? Bro you were literally number one! I know I said I wanted to steal it from you but I didn’t mean that way idiot.”

“You can ask her why I deleted it.” He replies, pointing towards your direction.

Now standing and properly dressed, you wave at the man before you, he seems just as confused as you are.

“Pretty girl, this is my best friend Jake, and Jake this is my girlfriend Y/N.” A smile spreads across Jake’s face and he’s quick to pull you into a hug.

“Oh dude! You should have just said that! I see why now, what a dog! She’s way to pretty for you by the way.”

“Thanks Jake, I know I am but he’s a good kisser so I keep him around.”

“I like her already! Wanna go get some lunch? On me of course to celebrate you finding a girl who actually likes you and isn’t paying you to date her.”

“Deal, but just so you know, I did pay him to date me. Not anymore though.”

Jake’s mouth hangs open as you walk past him to grab your shoes, he’s astonished that someone as gorgeous as you needed to pay for a date. Jay sends him a look and promises to explain at lunch as he chases after you.

Jake would never admit it out loud but he’s happy Jay’s finally found someone to make him happy and the smile on your faces just shows him how right you are for one another.

Three years later he’s proven right as he opens up the envelope addressed to him. It’s an invitation that reads –

“You are happily invited to the wedding of Jay Park and Y/N L/N on the 31st of October, at three o’clock. Please join them for this amazing celebration!”

coco’s love note: ahhh and that’s a wrap on the wedding date! I really hope you all enjoyed it, honestly it was really fun to write especially coming up with things to fit the characters I chose for this fic in specific :) it was hard making heeseung the bad ex but he was the perfect fit 😭 and i love jay being the ml like he’s perfect for rom-coms!! anyways, I hope you enjoyed this fic and as always, feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

[wayfaringhoax]

Riddles

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female Reader

Click here for part two

Word count: 12k+

Summary: You and Frankie become ‘friends with benefits’ until you evolve into something more. But when you can’t seem to communicate your needs, you find yourselves in uncharted territory.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact

Explicit sexual content (p in v, female receiving oral, dirty talk, semi-public sex, sexting, sending nude photos), references to sex scattered throughout, swearing, unhealthy relationships, making each other jealous, communication issues, discussions of low self-esteem, conflicted emotions, angst, possessive! Frankie, reader wears Frankie’s t-shirt, consumption of alcohol, references to religion and drugs (purely for metaphorical purposes), public discussions of sex, reader is described as having a vagina and breasts. 

This is a reader insert fic, but there are a few plot details that lean towards an OFC. Reader's mentioned as having two parents, letting their hair 'down' after work, and one of their friends is given a name. If any of these details make you uncomfortable, please refrain from reading.

New to the community, so this hasn’t been beta’d.

Been working on this for a few weeks, please let me know if you enjoy it!

Get coffee, meeting, reply to emails, meeting, lunch, marketing proposal, planning period, meeting.

As you opened your planner that morning, you were greeted by your responsibilities for the day. However, each damn meeting brought you one step closer to the end of the work day, and subsequently one step closer to leaving your office and heading to Benny’s Fight Night.

Due to your busy schedule, you hadn’t been able to make it to one of his fights for a while so you often resorted to wishing him luck via a text message. Having the chance to actually be there and support him in person was therefore a big deal for you. Plus, you’d also have the chance to grill the eldest Miller brother, having set him up on a date with your friend a few weeks ago, only to have her tell you it didn’t work out. You knew Will would be prepared for you to press him, and being as stoic as he was, you anticipated that he wouldn’t reveal much.

How many times had they reprimanded you for attempting to play matchmaker?

You couldn’t help it. It was only natural for you to want the best for them, you’d shared so much of your life with them, and they’d been by your side when it counted.

Of course, you were only a kid when you first met the Miller brothers. When your parents had befriended theirs, you were quick to latch on to them, glad to have two little friends to annoy. You often spent holidays chasing them around their home, and they enjoyed bringing their LEGO to yours, much to the dismay of your poor mother, who wasn’t prepared for how much mess they’d bring.

Sure, shit got real when you got older.

After you graduated from college, you threw yourself into work. You successfully climbed up the ranks, securing enough money to live comfortably. Though you admit, you had to sacrifice a lot in the process, regularly denying yourself the chance to be happy - to be loved - in the name of prioritising your career. 

Every time you wake up in the middle of the night, yearning for the comfort of another body, you’re reminded of the loneliness that sometimes plagues you.

Benny and Will weren’t strangers to the feeling either. You’d been around to see the darkness that followed them home from deployment. The darkness that tarnished some of their ability to accept love. The same darkness that made them hold on to you that little bit tighter, now very much acquainted with the feeling of loss.

You would never be able to understand what it was like for them. Never be able to fully comprehend the extent of their trauma. Some part of you knew that for Benny and Will, relationships weren’t as simple as they used to be.

But that didn’t stop you from trying to set them up. You appreciated that your attempts were futile, they were just gestures of good faith, really. They communicated that you cared. That you wanted them to be happy - and they saw that for what it was: their friend looking out for them.

On the other hand, Benny and Will rarely tried to set you up on dates, understanding that the guys they knew wouldn’t be the right fit for you.

Despite this, they made sure to constantly remind you that you weren’t getting laid.

An issue you were sure they’d raise again, at some point this evening.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t looking. 

Respectfully, you’d found most of the boys’ friends attractive, and perhaps, there was one man from their Delta Force squad, in particular, who’d caught your eye.

A man with a serious attachment to his baseball cap.

A man who seems burdened by his affliction, shouldering the weight of it all by himself. 

A man who was just so gorgeous, yet often chose to play it safe, hanging back when in the presence of the other boys.

Yes, Francisco Morales. Or Frankie, as the boys called him. 

You had looked at Frankie. Many times. He’d definitely caused you to lose your train of thought more than once, having been mesmerised by his features; strong yet with a particular softness. 

Whilst you acknowledged your attraction to this man, you got the sense that he wasn’t available. 

Benny had never mentioned a wife or a girlfriend when he spoke about Frankie, but you still felt as though there was some kind of invisible wall up, preventing you from getting any closer. 

Besides, you were going to support Benny tonight, not ogle his friend. You could keep it under control. 

Or at least you tried, yet the way Frankie let out a soft chuckle as Benny teased you about becoming a crazy cat lady, was testing your patience.

Now, you were avoiding his gaze, afraid of having to confront your attraction to the man across the locker room. This was proving to be quite easy, as Benny’s enquiry into your (lack of a) sex life had you staring up at the ceiling in embarrassment, hoping the ground would swallow you whole. 

“C’mon, I’m only looking out for you here. You gotta break the dry spell soon, else it’ll become even harder to get back out there.”

Benny continues his onslaught, deciding to raise the point that if he didn’t fight for a while, he’d simply have no skill when he got back in the ring.

Frustrated, you roll your eyes at his comparison before telling him, “That’s unfair, Benny.”

Santiago chooses this moment to weigh in, reassuring you, “Bonita, you could have any guy you wanted, huh? What’s stopping you?”, and before you have the chance to speak, Benny jumps in on your behalf.

“That’s what I keep telling her, but she keeps making up all these issues. Worrying too much.”

“Well these issues are real concerns for me. I don’t want a relationship right now, but one-night stands aren’t for me either. There’s too many unknowns with hookups. Do you know how many married guys take their rings off just so they can take girls home for a night?”, you tell Benny incredulously, trying to communicate the extent of your concern.

Benny senses your ire, beginning to back off slightly, yet not before proposing, “Why don’t you just get a fuck buddy? Then you can get laid all you want. Problem solved.”

Sure, the prospect was very appealing to you. Someone you could count on to give you orgasms and not have to worry about the strings attached? 

You’d sign yourself up right now. 

The problem was, where would you find such a man? You shuddered at the thought of returning to the dating apps, having had enough interesting encounters on there to put you off using them again.

Turns out Benny had his own solution to that problem, choosing this moment to turn his attention to his friend who was currently leaning against the lockers, arms folded against his chest. It was almost as though Frankie could sense what was coming next, as he retreated further back into himself, looking down at the floor in a futile attempt to avoid being targeted by his younger friend.

“Hey, Fish is right there. He’s been hard up for god knows how long now. Why don’t you scratch each other’s backs, huh?”

Right now, he was cursing himself for having one too many beers that night at Santi's house, when he’d opened up to the guys about his sexual frustration.

“Jesus Christ”, groans Frankie, his eyes looking at Benny disapprovingly.

Turns out you two did have something in common, as you both looked as though you could kill Benny with your stares. The younger Miller, however, was sporting a grin that would rival the Cheshire Cat’s, thoroughly pleased with himself.

With the attention span of an excitable puppy, Benny was quick to move on. You guess it had something to do with the way Will was looking at him, the subtle tilt of his head gesturing to Benny that he needed to get his head back in the game.

But that didn’t stop you from wanting to die of embarrassment. 

Sure, Benny had a fight to focus on, but you had to survive a couple more hours in Frankie’s presence. 

You pushed the strap of your bag further up your shoulder, hoping that having something to hold on to would quell the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. Straightening your posture, you hazard a glance over at where Frankie’s stood, only to realise he’s not there.

Pushing open the double doors, you exit the locker room and spot Frankie, way ahead of you, and his steps are somewhat urgent as he catches up to Santi.

Shrugging it off, you find your seat and wait for the fight to commence.

****

He’s struggling.

Frankie’s still reeling from Benny’s comment. He knows the only reason Benny said that was to rile you up, and he knows he shouldn’t still be thinking about it now. But he just can’t get the way you looked tonight out of his head.

He grabs himself a beer and settles onto his couch, before allowing images of you to flood his head; the late-night news report swiftly forgotten.

He imagines your hair, slightly tousled after a long day at work. It was extremely sexy, to him; the image of you letting your hair down as you leave the office. It signified you letting loose, and he could only imagine what it would be like to have you lose control around him. God, he’d give anything to run his hands through it as you looked up at him with those eyes. 

Fuck, you were gorgeous. 

Frankie’s got it bad for you. Has done for quite some time now. Ever since he was introduced to you at Benny’s birthday party last year, you had taken over all of his fantasies. Being around you consumed all of his energy, as he often fought hard enough to play it cool whenever you spoke to him; always worrying he’d scare you off with his dark wit. 

And for Benny to joke that he had a chance with you? Well, that was cruel. 

He managed to make an escape from the locker room before you noticed, latching onto Pope in an attempt to recompose himself.

You were far too good for him.

He had baggage; struggles he was still working through. 

You, on the other hand, were stable. With a successful career, a solid group of friends and a pretty house at the end of the block, you intimidated him. 

Frankie often wondered how you had spent so much of your adult life around the Millers, seen the damage that had been done to them, and yet you still had a certain innocence about you. It was like you had seen first-hand just how unforgiving the universe could be, but you still saw purpose beyond the pain.

Yep, he needed to stay away from you.

Deciding to push his demons aside for the moment, Frankie casts his mind back to the times he’d tried, and clearly failed, to put the moves on you.

There had been the brush of his hand on your waist as you walked by him in Will’s kitchen to get another beer. And the time you fell asleep on Benny’s sofa, he had shuffled closer, allowing your head to rest ever so slightly in his lap. Frankie also recalls each time he’d driven you home from the bar, only driving away when he saw you head inside. As you sat in his passenger seat, Frankie came to the conclusion that your presence was downright intoxicating. Therefore, he always volunteered to be the designated driver in the hopes he could drink up more of you.

It was getting late. Late enough that he could put all this down to being some kind of a fever dream.

Frankie’s about to head up to bed, when his phone lights up with a text message.

A text message from you.

Yeah, this was definitely feeling like a surreal experience.

He decides to bite the bullet and glances down at your message.

Hey, Frankie. Just wanna say sorry about before. We all know Benny loves to tease, but I hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable. Hopefully see you soon! x

Frankie’s not quite sure what you have to apologise for, and frankly, his attention was elsewhere; on the last four words of your text. God, he hoped to see you again.

He sends his reply swiftly.

Hey, you don’t need to be sorry. I’ve definitely had worse thrown at me by the boys. Don’t worry about it. Hope you enjoyed the fight?

Frankie knows he’s pushing his luck, but he adds that little question mark hoping you’d take the bait to talk to him for a little longer.

You reply almost instantaneously, much to Frankie’s delight.

Yeah, it was great! Once I stopped wanting to kill Benny. Until then I was kinda rooting for the other guy. Promise you won’t tell him? 

Can’t promise anything, Cariño, came Frankie’s response. 

Your humour almost seemed like flirting, and Frankie would be a fool not to try, so after hitting send, he relaxes back into the couch whilst awaiting your response.

Huh. Knew I couldn’t trust a man with the name Francisco.

Fuck. Frankie was immediately consumed by visions of you - saying his name. 

Imagining how his name would sound coming from those perfect lips of yours caused something to stir deep down in his gut. 

Get it together, Frankie. Get it together. 

He found it a little harder to type his next words.

Not many men you can trust these days. But you deserve to be with one who takes good care of you.

He hadn’t intended to get so deep so quickly, but the thought of you being hurt in the past caused an unpleasant feeling to grow in his chest. You were so beautiful, so good. You had your whole life ahead of you. Whichever asshole had broken your trust in the past didn’t deserve to be breathing right now, Frankie was certain.

You take a little longer to reply, causing Frankie to doubt himself for a moment before his phone lights up again.

Thanks, Frankie. I feel like I really needed to hear that. You deserve to be loved, too. 

The sincerity of your words almost knocked the wind right out of him. Pleasantly surprised at the turn his evening took, Frankie longed to draw more of those confessions from you. 

Pope’s right, you know. You could have any guy you wanted, Bonita. 

The Frankie who hadn’t gotten anywhere with you before was not expecting the response you gave.

Any guy, huh?

And before he has time to process your insinuation, you send another text.

Even you? 

Oh, he wasn’t prepared for you to say that. So understandably, his response is delayed.

Shit, he needs to tread carefully here, he thinks, as he eventually composes his next few words.

Cariño, you need to be careful what you say to me. I don’t do well with riddles. 

On edge, Frankie’s composure is wavering. He’s definitely not prepared when he spots an incoming call from you yet he doesn’t hesitate to pick up.

“Hi…I, uh…I don’t even know what I’m doing Frankie.”, your words are soon followed by a soft, yet nervous, laugh.

“Do you wanna come over?”

Frankie swears he hears the breath leave his lungs, before all but moaning out, “Yeah.”

“Be there in 15.”

****

Of all the things you thought you’d be doing at 2 am on a Friday night, giving Frankie directions to your house wouldn’t have been your first guess. 

What were you thinking? You became a woman possessed. The dark timbre of his voice had caused a warm, fuzzy feeling to grow in your tummy, and before you knew it, you had invited him over for a late-night booty call.

You keep your hands busy, clearing up some of the mess in your bedroom when the realisation hits you. You were going to have sex with Frankie. 

Is this really happening?

The doorbell rings and you soon realise that - yes - this does seem to be happening, and it’s happening right now.

Like the cat about to get its cream, you slink to the door to let him in. You’re hoping your face doesn’t betray your eagerness as you greet Frankie with a smile. 

He takes a moment to assess your features, apprehensive that you may have changed your mind whilst he was driving over. Finding only a hint of shyness in your otherwise confident persona, he knows he’s made the right call. Frankie needs to see you move first. He’s not going to enter your apartment until he knows you want him in there. 

Luckily for him, you turn your body to the side slightly, allowing him to see further into your apartment. You take a step back; it’s an invitation that needs no words - it simply says, chase me. See what you’ll find. 

And he does. But not before looking away from you and rolling his eyes ever so slightly. You don’t know if he’s amused or frustrated, but you know you’ve got him right where you need him when he crosses your welcome mat.

His eyes return to you, then, and he gives you an assured nod. It’s Frankie’s way of asking you what your next move is. After all, he’s on your turf right now. 

Desperate to break the silence, you tell him, “Thanks for coming, I know it’s late.”. Choosing that moment to head to your bedroom, you lead the way. Hoping. Wanting. Praying he’ll follow you.

Frankie follows. He follows you blindly - like a disciple on a mission - trusting that wherever he’ll end up, it will be worth it. 

When he reaches your doorway, he’s greeted by a sight so divine, he’s forced to rethink his stance as an agnostic. 

You’re kneeling on the bed, stretching over to switch on the light, when he admires the way your back is arched like a feline wanting to play. He sees your mischief. And, as your shoulders dip low, he becomes hung up on the view of your ass in this position. He definitely wants to play, too.

The tension gets thicker and thicker as Frankie advances forward. He wants to test the waters; see what you do next. But he also wants to dive in headfirst and lap up your sweetness like a man starved. Frankie is a man starved, and he’s losing resolve with every passing second in your presence.

Of course, he’s delighted when you turn to face him again. You kneel on the bed, right in front of him this time, sitting back on your legs with your hands behind your back. You push your chest forward and sit up tall in a way that almost short-circuits Frankie’s brain. You look so submissive; preening and proud to put your body on display for him. So eager to learn, to please him. 

He knows you’re toying with him. You look so innocent sitting like that, but Frankie also knows you’re playing naughty. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Your moxie had his cock aching in his pants. 

Cautiously, Frankie rakes his eyes over your body, trying to figure out your next move. The soft glow of light in the room gives you an advantage, however, and you manage to catch him off guard. 

He’s too focused on the way you bite your bottom lip to notice your hands on his belt buckle.

Frankie thinks you’ll unbuckle it, yet you surprise him again as you use it to pull his body flush to yours. You’re on the bed and he’s stood up, and you adore the way he’s making you feel so small and pliant right now.

Sporting a mischievous grin of his own now, Frankie moves his lips to your neck.

“Don’t thank me yet, baby. Not until you’re cumming all over my tongue.” 

How’s a girl supposed to respond to that?

By some miracle, you manage to stay upright on the bed, and you decide you need to regain control of the situation before Franke dirty-talks you to death. 

“Francisco…”, you purr devilishly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Frankie lets out a sinful groan; with just enough impatience to let you know he’s yours. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now than hanging on to every word you say. He can tell you’re being bratty. He loves it. Loves the way you’re taunting him, waiting for the moment he snaps and fucks you how you need to be fucked.

You repeat Frankie’s earlier words to you. “So…I could have any guy I wanted, huh? You really think so?”

Frankie thinks your smile looks a little bashful, for a second, before he notices the way you’re running your tongue across your bottom lip as you toy with the neck of his t-shirt. There’s a glint of something in your eyes. Your smile. That tells him he’s clueless as to the game you’re playing tonight, yet you’re definitely playing him. 

And, well, Frankie’s down for the ride. At this point, he’d promise you the world just to get a taste of the heaven between your thighs. 

Refocusing, he decides that’s what he needs to do.

“Cariño… so needy. You got my attention. All of it. No need to play up.”, says Frankie in a heady whisper.

You realise, then, that you may have underestimated the man in front of you.

But you definitely aren’t prepared for what he says next.

“On your back, baby. Panties off. Let’s see if you’re still an impatient little brat after you get your pussy eaten.”

Unable to form words, you get to the task at hand, dragging your lacy panties down your legs. You swear you can feel your skin throbbing as your hands skim your thighs. There’s nothing he could ask of you right now that would be too much, you decide, as you settle onto your back. 

He’s still fully clothed, and it’s almost like he senses your concern as he suddenly begins to undress. Starting with his t-shirt, he moves with urgency; afraid he’ll miss something if he takes his eye off you for a second. His hands reach for his belt, and you’re trying your best not to drool at the way he looks right now. Hair ruffled from your touch, chest heaving in anticipation of the pleasure you’re teasing of, and eyes glossy and wide. You’re simply mesmerised by the way this man looks when he’s affected. You’ve only ever seen him composed, playing it cool. You’ve never witnessed Frankie lose it, but you’re hoping that’s subject to change. Soon.

“Frankie…”, you beg. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby.”

Despite the way your impatience amuses Frankie, he decides he can’t wait any longer and dives down, using his hands to pry your legs open.

He nips the inside of your thigh, just far enough from where you need him to have you arching your back already; like a creature in heat.

You’re dying to express that you disapprove of his teasing, but you figure you should probably be a good girl considering he’s about to take care of you.

However, Frankie’s not done. His kisses trail higher, and as he reaches your knee, he places kisses there too, as he huffs out a demand. 

“You’re gonna be a good girl and give me all those pretty moans of yours. Take what I give you. Be grateful.” The way he emphasises those final two words tells you he’s not messing around, and you’re ashamed of the way you moan at the authority in his voice.

“Yes, baby. I’ll try to be good…. for you.”, you say. 

“Try, huh?”, is his response, as he reaches for a pillow, tapping your hip as a signal for you to lift them up. He places the pillow underneath your hips, and you’re ready to melt as he uses his thumb to rub firm circles into the spot just beneath your right breast. He applies a good amount of pressure, and all you can think about is how completely at his mercy you are right now; squirming underneath him in desperation. 

Frankie finally uses that tongue of his. But it’s not where you need it…yet. 

He draws your nipple into his mouth, sporting a smug grin as he does so. You want to scream. You can feel just how puffy and swollen your pussy is from the lack of attention it's receiving. As you feel it clench around nothing, you buck up against him whilst he continues to tease you. He’s sucking the peak into his mouth, drawing his tongue around in torturously slow circles, before releasing it with an audible pop. Frankie moves to continue his ministrations with your other breast, and in your petulance, you make the mistake of fighting him.

You hook your left leg around the back of his, trying to position your aching centre against the rough denim of his jeans; desperate for some friction.

But Frankie had been expecting you to challenge him. He’s seen your spark when you’d both been out with the other guys, it was one of the things that drew him to you in the first place. He recalls how you’d light up when you became competitive, you’d find ways to provoke your opponent yet you were able to mask it well. You’d get all giggly and cute, playing it off like you just got a bit over excited, and Santi, or whatever poor schmuck had gone up against you, would give in to you. Often letting you win. 

Well, Frankie wasn’t giving in that easily.

His hand shoots out to hold your left thigh open, whilst he uses his leg to pin down the other one; keeping you splayed out just how he wanted. You’re taken aback by his strength and you can’t deny it makes your pussy even needier. You need him, and your frustration has made you bold enough to tell him.

“Frankie, baby.”, you whine. “Need your mouth on it. On my pussy.”

He lets out a dark chuckle at that. And he decides to punish your brattiness with silence. You’re easy to read, to him, and he knows you’re liking the way he’s running his mouth whilst in your bed. But you’re reaching for too much, and he’s got to show some resistance for both of your sakes. 

Of course, Frankie would give you anything, but he’s not sure what your intentions were for inviting him into your bed. He assumes you’re after a no-strings-attached arrangement, and he’s gonna need to keep you wanting more if he’s to keep you. 

Pushing the thought aside for now, he focuses on his next move: giving you what you need. 

After what feels like a century, Frankie finally dips his head down to where you’re dripping for him. He’s sure he’s never seen a pussy so sweet and so responsive. He’s not even touched you there and he can see you clenching around nothing. 

His thick fingers part your folds and the way his breath ghosts over you has you crying out to him. 

“Ngghhh…fuck. Need it.”, you draw out in a frustrated giggle, and at this moment, Frankie thinks - no he knows - that you’ve ruined all other women for him. You sound so sexy, like a little vixen, but at the same time, there’s a sweetness about you that’s humbling.

Frankie decides he needs to reassure you. “Shhhh, Cariño. I’ve got you. You’ll get what you need.”

And you do get what you need, as Frankie forces your legs open even wider before licking a thick stripe all the way from your fluttering hole to your throbbing clit with his tongue - and the noise you make is untamed. 

He takes his time, opening you up on his tongue. He knows you need his fingers inside but he’s not sure you deserve it just yet. 

Frankie admires the way your pretty pussy is shy at first - like you - as he uses soft kitten licks to loosen you up. Your juices taste heavenly, and he laps up every ounce that flows from the core of you. Eventually, you relax into his mouth and your moans become more desperate. You need more and you communicate this by pulling Frankie in even deeper, your hands tight in his hair. 

“Jesus Christ”, he groans. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“Fingers, Frankie. I need your fingers.”, you plead, hoping he’ll take pity on you. 

And he does, by some miracle, pressing two inside you and immediately curling them up. You’re soon ready for another, and he adds a third, causing you to pout at him as your orgasm grows closer. The way you’re trying your best to ride his fingers, yet also sink further back into the bed like a pillow princess, is endearing to Frankie, as he can’t help but watch how you take him. Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. Underneath him. He needs you to come on his fingers and his tongue and he decides he can’t wait much longer.

“There you go, pretty girl. You’ve got something to clench down on. Something to cum on.”, says Frankie, and his words have your eyes rolling back. He’s got a dirty mouth and it’s doing all the right things to you.

He moves his mouth back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Applying the perfect amount of pressure, he’s got you whining out his name as you stretch your arms above your head, gripping the pillow you find there to anchor you - otherwise, you’re sure you’ll float away. 

It doesn’t take Frankie much longer to push you to the edge, and he gets a little rougher, much to your delight. You’re suddenly thankful for the pillow you’re grabbing onto, as his hands grip both of your ass cheeks, pulling your cunt up to his mouth and there’s nowhere for you to run. His grip is unrelenting; all you can do is lie there and take it as his tongue lashes against your clit. The absence of his fingers leaves you feeling empty, though you’re not complaining, as the way he’s clutching your hips allows him to really wreck you with his mouth. And what a mouth that man has. 

You’re writhing on the bed, your orgasm so close that your body’s going crazy; arching and stretching as it tries to hit that spot to send you over the edge. It comes as no surprise, however, that Frankie’s words finish you off.

“That’s it, baby. Know you need to cum. Need it so bad you’re whimpering for it.”

“Come on now, give it to me. I know you can. Cum and I’ll give you my fingers to ride it out on.”, he says, and you cum. Hard. 

“Frankie. Oh my god, Frankie”, you moan out like a madwoman and Frankie plunges his fingers back into your pussy as you cum all over his face. 

You can’t help but chase every wave of your high, and you push your cunt down on his fingers like you can’t get enough of what he’s giving you. Somehow, you’re able to remember what Frankie told you before, and you begin to chant “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” as you ride out your orgasm. 

There’s a cheeky smile playing on your lips and Frankie lets out his own throaty chuckle at your sass. And that’s when it hits him. 

One time isn’t enough. 

He can’t give you up just yet. 

****

The two of you soon get into a rhythm. 

You alternate between your place and his, spending most nights together each week. It’s after a few weeks of this routine that you realise: you’ve got yourself a ‘fuck buddy’ after all.

But you wouldn’t dream of telling Benny. Or Will. Or Santi. You weren’t ready to burst the bubble and face reality yet. You were perfectly happy indulging in each other’s bodies, sheltered from the pressures of the outside world. 

The sex is incredible. You know it, and Frankie most definitely knows it too.

You’ve come to know Frankie’s body so intimately, it sends a shiver down your spine just from thinking about it. You know what makes him tick. What makes him abandon his resolve and cum for you. You know how to draw particular sounds from him; his moans, his whimpers, his shouts, even. You had become a Frankie connoisseur in what seemed like no time.

Actually, it had only been a few weeks, yet things seemed to be moving at pace.

Having been friends before all this began, neither of you was inclined to kick the other person out after you were done rolling around in the sheets. So, naturally, then came the lingering. 

You both had taken to lingering a little while longer after the post-coital high faded. 

One time, you had hopped in the shower, and when you were done, you found Frankie on the phone to your local pizzeria. You hadn’t even questioned how he knew your order, putting it down to the fact you were friends before this. Still, it caused an unfamiliar feeling to stir in your chest, and some small part of you didn’t hate the gesture. 

You start showering together, too.

The first time it happened, you were still giggling over something Frankie had said. You’d riled him up and he’d taken you on, finding it way too easy to laugh with you. You’d been poking fun at him after he’d shared quite an embarrassing story from his days in service and he had decided to take a shower to escape your teasing. However, you didn’t want to let the moment go, just yet - so you followed him into the bathroom. 

He had just stepped under the spray of water when he heard your girlish giggle getting louder. Frankie tried his hardest to steel himself, but your happiness was infectious and he couldn’t help but be affected, dropping his head forward with a content smile as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. And since then, this became a frequent part of your routine. 

On several occasions, you slept over at Frankie’s place and he drove you to work the next day. 

You struggled with this. You weren’t going to lie. The thought of one of your colleagues spotting you, and the gossip that would ensue, concerned you. But you brushed it off each time.

After all, it meant that Frankie would take you home as well - and that came with its own benefits.

You’d gotten into the habit of getting him all worked up on those days he was due to pick you up, deciding it was fun to have him show up wrecked and so hard for you. Sometimes he drove a little faster, gripped your thigh a little tighter, and braked a little harder as he rushed to get the two of you to someplace private. Whilst other times he’d take to finding a discreet place to park his car. 

Yeah, those were the days you’d texted him something filthy.

You figured out quite early that you were both into dirty talk, but you weren’t expecting it to escalate in the way it did. 

An incident occurred at the Millers’ BBQ, where everyone in the neighbourhood appeared to be out in full force. Despite you and Frankie pledging to behave yourselves, you couldn’t help but sneak off upstairs when the moment presented itself. You had to remind yourself that Benny had probably done the same, if not much worse, in your own bathroom as you let Frankie sit you up on the counter; his broad frame crowding you against the mirror and your heels digging into his back. He had come to love when you’d communicate how much you needed him by sinking your stilettos into him like a vice. It was a kind of foreplay and he was very much here for it. 

It was at that moment when he said it, as he had you spread out on the counter in your friend’s bathroom, fucking you good. 

You could’ve blamed it on the slight buzz of alcohol running through his veins. Or the fact you had been fucking each other a lot. The latter was more rational, you realised, yet you didn’t want to dwell on how you two got to this point. The anxiety and regret would creep back in, and you were having way too much to let yourself ruin it by overthinking.

“Fuck…Cariño. Feels so good. You like that, huh?”, he said.

You’d mewled out a “Yeah”, knowing Frankie needed to hear the praise, needed you to use your words.

What followed then, was a veiled threat to your dynamic. “Yeah…”, he groaned out. “You like it, huh? Letting me fuck you like this tight little pussy is mine.”

Frankie loved the way you whined at that, and he was perfectly content to watch you go wild as you took his cock like a champion, but you were getting too loud, so he covered your mouth with his; swallowing your cries of pleasure.

You should’ve noticed then that things were changing between the two of you, but you were too far gone at the time to pay it the attention it needed.

However, Frankie had been paying close attention to you. Specifically, you in his t-shirts, wearing only your panties and pottering around his place like you belonged there. 

You were blissfully unaware of how much this particular sight drove him crazy, but each time you wore one, Frankie died a little inside. He was overcome with the need to possess you. To make you his girl, have everyone know you warmed his bed. 

This feeling also reared its head whenever you called him baby. 

He’d never been one to jump to conclusions and he was definitely not one to overestimate a woman’s feelings towards him. But, against all odds, and because this was you, Frankie found himself desperately clinging to the pet name. He latched onto the idea that, maybe, he was your man and there was nobody else. Of course, Frankie knew what he signed up for. But he could still imagine what it would be like if things were different. 

But, afraid it would scare you off, Frankie subdued these urges every time. He’d often shut down when it all got to be too much for him to contemplate, rushing to another room where he’d make himself look busy. Unfortunately, you interpreted his struggle as him being distant. Closed-off. Emotionally unavailable. And in your eyes, this was the reason why you couldn’t let yourself fall for this man.

Despite the doubts you harboured, neither of you was prepared to stop.

The pace at which things were evolving terrified you, if you were being honest. It was as though you were heading towards a cliff edge, but you had taken the scenic route. 

The views were breathtaking, so you went along for the ride; paying no mind to where you were going.

You hated being unable to control the situation and part of you wanted to turn it around and go back to when you were just friends. Back then, you didn’t owe him anything. You could control the version of yourself you presented to him. But in this arrangement, Frankie was able to catch you off guard, sometimes. When he looked at you like you hung the moon, you felt as though you could fall into him with no parachute - give him more. And that scared you.

Frankie was scared, too.

In fact, he’s worried.

You’re currently enjoying a night out with your girlfriends whilst he’s home alone with his anxiety. 

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’s itching to hear from you. You’re having fun and you don’t need him, but he can’t help but keep glancing at his phone, thinking of texting you. Truthfully, Frankie’s afraid he’ll fade into your background. Every second you spend without him - untethered - is a chance for you to find something better and leave him behind.

He wants to be missed. Needs you to miss him.

However, Frankie’s not prepared to get this deep in a text message to you, so he settles for something a bit lighter. 

Releasing a strained sigh, he decides to bite the bullet and so begins to type out a message.

Meanwhile, in the club, you’re nursing your third margarita of the evening when the text comes through. 

Luckily, you’d agreed to watch the booth whilst your friends went to the bar for more drinks, meaning you were able to take a quick peek at your phone, away from prying eyes. 

You hated the way you doted on his every word, yet still, you ran your eyes over the text a few more times than necessary.

Hope you’re having fun. You know there’s a space in my bed if you want to crash here later.

Slightly buzzed from the cocktails you’d had so far, you aren’t sure whether this new sensation you’re feeling is down to the alcohol, or something else entirely. 

Being your usual flirtatious self, your instinct is to tease Frankie a little.

Your bed? Benny usually lets me crash with him after a girls night. Why should it be your bed, Francisco? X

It’s true. Benny did always offer you a place to stay at the end of the night, but it wasn’t like that. Yet Frankie doesn’t need to know that Benny always takes the couch, letting you sleep like a baby in privacy. Besides, you think it’s fun to rile him up. After all, you’re not sure how far he’ll go, to earn your company tonight. 

He doesn’t respond for a while, and you’re tapping your nails against the back of your phone, thankful that the bar service is slow tonight, delaying your friends’ return.

Fuck…is what comes to mind when Frankie reads your message. He’s driven wild by the thought of you in another man’s bed, even if it’s his friend who he knows has only ever been platonic with you. He’s not proud of his jealousy, as he knows what he signed up for. But he can’t help himself - he needs to give you a reason to end the night in his bed. He needs something that will reassure him: he’s not losing you. Thinking on his feet, despite having spent a solid ten minutes figuring out what to say, he replies.

Come on, baby. You know I can give you what you need tonight. Not sure Benny’s going to cut it. 

Kicking himself as he reads over his words, he knows he needs to give you more, so he sends another.

You think I can’t see through your games, Cariño. When you wake up needy in the middle of the night, it’s my cock you’ll be coming on. 

Oh. He’s playing dirty, you realise. You grab your drink and take a generous taste, needing something to cool you down desperately. 

Is he jealous? Your mind is racing with the possibilities of what this could mean for your relationship. 

Panic swirls in your stomach, letting you know that you may be heading into uncharted territory here. And to make matters worse, a glance to your left alerts you to the fact your friends are on their way back to the table.

You intended to reply with something equally as dirty as what he’d been sending you, yet as you spot your friends getting closer, you freak out and lock your phone, hoping they’re tipsy enough to gloss over the way you’re breathing a little harsher, right now.

You couldn’t deny it, Frankie’s way with words had you feeling hot. Heat pools between your thighs as you dwell on the delicious implications of ending the night in his bed, but you remind yourself that you need to appear unaffected or else you’ll be subject to interrogation.

It didn’t work, judging by Cami’s expression, and you take a moment to prepare yourself for the questions. Yet, there’s a look of real understanding on your friend’s face, like she senses your inner turmoil and feels for you. She assumes you’re tearing yourself apart over something, or someone, and she’s not sure that a crowded club is the right place to bring it up. Deciding to buy you some time, Cami suggests you accompany her to the bathroom.

Shooting her a look of gratitude, you let her lead you into a cubicle, before she turns to face you whilst leaning back against the door. 

You stare up at her from where you’re perched on the toilet, and you know she’s waiting for you to fill her in.

After a few seconds, you succumb. 

“I think I’m in too deep. Shit, Cami. Things are changing, and I don’t know if I like it.”

She doesn’t need you to elaborate. She knows you’re referring to a guy, and from the sounds of it, she can assume it’s casual. Well, supposed to be casual. The way you’re frantically chewing on your lip suggests otherwise.

Always in your corner, yet still firm enough to call you out when it’s needed, Cami’s been by your side long enough to tell when a man’s made a serious impression on you. Deciding it’s time to be firm, she weighs in on the situation.

“Being comfortable has never been enough for you. Change can be good. I know you know that, babe.”, she tells you.

“Who is he?”

You figure there’s no point in delaying the inevitable, so you reveal that it’s “A friend of Benny and Will. Uh…Frankie, the pilot.”

It’s hard to miss the proud smirk that Cami gives you. “Well-played.”, she says, chuckling slightly. “And that’s who you were sexting whilst we were at the bar, right?”

You nod, feeling less overwhelmed after opening up to her.

“Are you planning on showing me, then? I can’t help you blow his mind if you don’t let me see the texts.”, she adds smugly. Instantly putting you at ease.

You don’t need to ask her how she knew you were sexting Frankie, you’re just grateful that she’s a girls’ girl through and through, and you welcome her expertise in the matter. 

Cami’s about to suggest that you send him a flirty picture, with an even flirtier caption, until you scroll further down the conversation and you notice two new messages from the man in question.

It turns out that whilst you were stewing over your lover’s salacious messages, Frankie had gone through the motions, ten times over. He thought he’d pushed you too far. Pushed you away with his jealousy. 

He let himself simmer in his frustration before concluding that your lack of a response signified rejection. Frankie knew he’d shown his hand too soon. He’d fallen at your feet like all the other men, acting like a golden retriever in the way he fought for your attention. 

But still, your rejection hurt. It hurt enough for him to become defensive, trying to regain some of the control he’d forfeited to you. He shouldn’t have said what he said, but he let his emotions get the better of him.

You can’t quite believe what you’re reading, and even Cami appears to be shocked at the words staring back at you.

I get it. You don’t owe me anything, huh?  

And after he hadn’t heard from you for fifteen minutes, he sent another text.

You should stay at Benny’s tonight. Wherever you choose to go, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of options. 

All you see is red. All you feel is the unmistakable tinge of betrayal. You hadn’t expected Frankie to jump to conclusions, and you definitely hadn’t expected your Frankie - who was always so sweet and respectful - to degrade you like this. 

Some part of your brain is able to register Cami’s words and you hear her cursing Frankie with some very colourful language. You’re left feeling blindsided, unable to process his sudden resentment towards you, but nonetheless, you can’t allow yourself to get hung up on it, not when you were surrounded by such remarkable friends. 

You switch your phone off, determined to salvage the rest of your night, before letting Cami drag you to the dancefloor for some much needed release.

It’s no surprise, then, when Frankie’s 3 am apology text fails to come through.

****

Frankie becomes an expert at jumping to conclusions when it comes to you.

After you didn’t reply to his apology, and subsequently screened all of his calls, Frankie didn’t know what else he could do. 

He couldn’t reach you and you hadn’t made an effort to contact him. Hell, he knew he’d fucked up; he shouldn’t have spoken to you in the way he did, but he’d tried to make amends and yet you didn’t seem willing to hear him out.

Frankie doesn’t see you for a while. Eight days, to be exact. 

He knows you’re alright, thank god, as he hears from Will that you’d been offered a promotion at work and that he’d taken you out to dinner to celebrate.

And yet, it doesn’t get easier, he comes to accept, and he finds himself wanting to call you on multiple occasions, and he almost does, but something always stops him in his tracks.

Unable to stop replaying your words over in his head, Frankie’s overthought and overanalysed until the point of exhaustion. You were both to blame, considering neither of you had been willing to speak about your relationship. Expectations, boundaries and outcomes had all been forgotten. You’d gotten swept up in the pleasure and failed to address these crucial concerns, and now you were both reaping what you had sewed. 

It was supposed to be casual. It was supposed to be just sex. 

That’s what Frankie told himself when Benny revealed that he had set him up on a blind date with a mutual friend. 

Neither of you had told Benny, or Will and Santi for that matter, about the two of you and Frankie couldn’t have declined the invitation without arousing suspicion from the youngest of the group. He didn’t know where he stood with you, but he wasn’t going to drop you in it with the boys. He was way too protective of you to let that happen.

So, begrudgingly, Frankie agreed to the date.

The first you heard of the date was through Instagram, and Frankie and Imelda were well into their second drink of the evening by the time you’d found out. 

Turns out, Benny had crashed it around forty-five minutes in, having gotten a text from his friend revealing he wasn’t ‘feeling it’. Taking his wingman duties seriously, Benny wasn’t prepared to let Frankie give in just yet, so had shown up in an attempt to encourage him, and to salvage what was left of the night. Benny had brought a girl friend - whom you both had met whilst at college - hoping the double date vibes would put Frankie at ease, and as she had taken to posting on her story, you were able to poke your nose in.

It wasn’t spying, and you weren’t jealous. But when Stacey posted a picture of the group, you couldn’t help but fixate on the way Frankie had his arm around his date, leaning into her ear, and it looked as though she’d caught them during an intimate moment.

Due to the angle at which the photo had been taken, you couldn’t tell whether Frankie’s lips were just hovering over her ear, or whether they were pressed tight against her skin. His baseball cap cleverly hid the majority of his face from view, but you couldn’t deny what was plain to see. And it drove you mad. Though, you knew your anger wasn’t justified.

Preparing for the worst, you conclude that Frankie’s ready to move on from you. 

You wish you could put your phone aside and let it be. You wish you didn’t care. You wish that the thought of Frankie touching another woman didn’t make you want to die, and you wish you could stop yourself from doing what you were planning to do next.

There’s a fire in your eyes and you realise that, perhaps, you are jealous, though you don’t waste time dwelling on it. If you were going to keep Frankie’s interest, you needed to do something that would throw him off balance and you needed to do it soon. And you knew just what would do the trick. 

You practically run to the bedroom, pulling out one of Frankie’s old army t-shirts that you’d snagged from his place. Getting comfy on your bed, you slip the shirt up your skin until it exposes enough skin to drive your man wild. There was no doubt about it. Frankie adored your breasts, and he also adored the way you loved to tease. You are hoping that this sexy little underboob shot would make him forget all about his date. No disrespect to her, as any woman would be crazy to turn down a date with Francisco Morales, and you feel bad - honestly, you really do. But the anxiety in your chest is pulling you towards the action. Your body’s screaming at you to do something, like it senses that it’s about to lose Frankie’s touch, for good.

You angle your phone just right, so the camera focuses on the way your breasts peek out from under his t-shirt. Whilst you make sure to get your face in the shot, too, as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and widen your eyes; looking all cute and innocent as you look up at the camera positioned above you. You know you’re anything but innocent right now, but you’re anticipating that Frankie will play right into your trap. As you have it on good authority that the man loves how you play coy, only to whine pathetically when he finally stretches you out with his cock. And by good authority, you’re referring to the way he grips your hips like your body gives him oxygen, or the way his big hands cup the back of your neck, fingers skimming over the side of your throat in a way that says, you’re staying right where I’ve got you. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you press send on the photo and you make sure to add a fitting caption. 

Your girl’s feeling a little lonely. Lucky she’s got your shirt to play in. Would be a shame for you to miss out, tonight. x

And you’ve got him. 

Hook, line and sinker; Frankie’s ready to come crawling back to you like a dog.

When he sees your name light up on his phone, notifying him that you’d sent him a photo, he needs to get somewhere private. And fast. 

He gives Imelda, as well as the other couple, some lame excuse about needing to get his jacket from the truck - just in case they decide to go somewhere with outdoor seating later on - and before he even reaches for his keys, he’s got his phone out ready. Somehow, he manages to hold off on opening your message, wanting to give you his full attention from the comfort of his driver’s seat. And he’s glad he did, as he pulls up the text and is greeted with what could only be described as a treat. Your eyes. Those lips. Your tits in… wait. Is that his shirt? Fuck, he doesn’t know where to look. His eyes rapidly move from each focal point in a frenzy to soak up everything you’d given him. You’d bestowed upon him a gift, and he needed to treasure it. Besides, he hadn’t heard from you in a while and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to touch you, or even look at you, in this way again. 

And then, he casts his eyes down to the text that follows.

Your girl’s feeling a little lonely. Lucky she’s got your shirt to play in. Would be a shame for you to miss out, tonight. x

He takes a minute to process your words, but he’s unable to move past your girl and your shirt. Did you want him dead? Surely, that was your goal in pushing those exact buttons of his. You’d seen his possessiveness, and until now, Frankie was certain it had pushed you away; overwhelmed you. Were you now encouraging it?

Not wanting to miss his chance, Frankie recomposes himself, just enough for him to be able to send a semi-coherent reply. He also texted Benny, asking him to apologise to Imelda on his behalf and tell her he had to head home, as he wasn’t feeling well. Home wasn’t on the cards tonight, however, as he geared up to head to your place. 

Don’t play too hard without me, baby. On my way over now.

Somewhere on the drive over to yours, Frankie finds himself able to reflect on your relationship. 

Relationship. That word felt foreign on his tongue, but he didn’t hate it, he realised, as he allowed himself to fantasise about a version of you two where you dated, held hands, and openly expressed your affection in front of your friends. 

You’d never given him any indication that you wanted more. Until tonight. 

Frankie’s aware that you’ve given him a crumb, and he’s already dreaming about the whole damn thing, but he can’t help himself from pushing forward.

His attraction, and his appreciation for you had grown, and he often found himself doting on the way you held your coffee in the morning like it was precious cargo, just as much as he doted on the way you went all cock-dumb in his bed after he’d worn you out for hours and hours. He’d begun to notice the little things that made you, you. And he knew he could fall in love with you. It would be so easy. 

Frankie considers how he’s probably ruined it for himself, already. He spoke to you in a derogatory way, that night you were out with the girls, and you’d somehow found out he’d been on a date with another woman. He knows that, on paper, the date isn’t something he should feel guilty for, as you two weren’t exclusive. But you were still involved and he has to admit he hasn't handled things in the best way. 

As he turns onto your street, he concludes that he wants you.

Frankie wants to be with you, and he’s willing to have you in whatever capacity you’re prepared to offer him. If you’re not ready. If you can’t give him what he needs, like the self-sabotaging martyr, he’s willing to take whatever he can get if it means he doesn’t have to give this feeling up. 

Then he’s at your door, trying his hardest to stop the tapping of his foot, which would surely give him away.

You appear from behind it, and he’s a fool not to notice the tears staining your cheeks as he makes his way past you. 

He bounds on you, the force of his kisses backing you up against the kitchen counter. And there are so many words on the tip of your tongue, but you haven’t seen this man in over a week and it’s so easy to fall back in again. 

After he’s somewhat satisfied that you’re real, and you’re here in his arms, he pulls back to address you with a needy tone of voice. One that was unfamiliar to both of you. 

“What was that, huh?” he demands. Looking anywhere but at your face, it’s no surprise that he misses the anguish that clouds your usual playful expression.

After a beat of silence, he pushes again.

“You couldn’t let me try to get over you.”, says Frankie, and this time, you notice the pain in his voice.

It’s like you’re frozen. Paralysed by the weight of everything that’s gone unsaid between you. 

Silence follows. It’s the kind of quiet before a storm, and neither of you knows what to do to protect yourselves. 

He’s holding onto your hips like they’re his altar, and he’s staring down at your body like it will lead him to enlightenment; give him the answers he needs. 

When he moves his gaze back to your face, that’s when he sees the absence of light in your eyes. You look troubled. Uncertain. And Frankie’s kicking himself for not noticing the tears that are streaking your soft skin earlier. What had happened between sending him the photo and now?

Cupping your face with a tenderness unlike the way he had just kissed you so roughly, Frankie’s at a loss for what to do. He just knows he wants to soothe the pain; your pain and his, and make it all better. 

Your silence feels like another dose of rejection, so Frankie takes a step back from you.

He’s amazed at his own courage, as he finds himself needing to communicate what he needs, right now. 

“You know what I want.”, he says.

The look in your eyes tells him you were expecting this conversation. And it crushes him, because he needs you to fight for him. But you won’t. He can see that much from your pained expression and the way your body is curling in on itself. You’re retreating.

And you are retreating. You want so badly to run to him; to hold him in your arms and promise that you’ll try, you’ll give him what he needs. 

You know you could love him right. Some mature part of you wants you to acknowledge that you are falling for him, and have been since the first night. But you’re confused, driven by heightened, raw emotion and you haven’t taken the time to process what you’re feeling for him.

His rejection still stings you, and you struggle to bounce back when you’ve been hurt. You know the adult thing to do is to talk about it - patch things up and move past it. But you’re a creature of habit and what you actually did was stew in your irrational anger, before closing yourself off to him. He’d tried to reach out and you’d crawled deeper into your pit of self-sabotage. Yeah, it wasn’t healthy and perhaps Frankie was better off without the hurt you’d most likely cause him if you gave this thing a chance to grow into something more.

A lot of self-work needed to happen before you’d be ready to let him in; let him sink deeper underneath your skin. 

So you stayed put, whilst your words failed you. 

Frankie’s eyes are raking over you so intensely, awaiting your next move, and all you can do is look anywhere but at him. 

The tension in your body has been stretched too far, and so it snaps. And you’re sure that both of you can hear the way the energy in the room shifts just like that. 

“Francisco… I -”, is all that you manage.

And Frankie feels as though he can read your mind. 

What you meant to say, he thinks, was I can’t give you what you want. 

And he gives you a moment to finish your admission. But nothing comes.

Wanting to be anywhere but here - facing your rejection, again, Frankie pivots towards the front door, ready to leave. 

“I shouldn’t have come here.”, he says.

Then as he darts towards the exit, you call out his name, and his movements still completely.

You continue. “I - … “, before releasing a sigh. 

“Frankie”, you whine, though it’s not like he’s used to hearing. It’s a broken whine, telling him all he needs to know.

You’re not ready.

“Tell me to stay. Tell me you want me.”, he pleads. 

And you think it’s kinder to let him go now. As it’s only a matter of time before you break his heart anyway. 

This arrangement was supposed to be casual. It wasn’t supposed to evolve this way, but you had both fallen in a little too deep, with too little communication. 

Fuck, he’s a good guy. Why won’t you let yourself have this? Have him? 

By now, your delicate tears have given way to distressed sobs, and you need him to walk away from you, so you can let it all out. 

After what feels like an age, Frankie leaves. He realises that he’s powerless. He’d handed over all of his control, to you, and you now held the advantage. 

As you watch the door close behind him, you release the hand that’s covering your mouth and unleash your heartache. 

****

It’s not a secret that you miss him.

Your body feels the loss, as you regress into the shell of your hurt. 

You can’t eat or sleep for the first few days, and when your appetite returns, you’re too anxious to make a run for some groceries. You’d called in sick to work, and that should’ve been a sign that Frankie meant more to you than a ‘fuck buddy’. 

You were grieving him. And as cliché as it sounds, you didn’t know what you had until it was gone. Or more so, you didn’t know that you wanted more until you had nothing.

The days that followed that fateful night in your kitchen were filled with longing. You yearned for the comfort of his body: the softness of his hair underneath your fingers, the sound of his voice over the phone, the way he held you like his favourite memory. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash his clothes that appeared in your laundry; you weren’t ready to erase his scent. It was somehow calm and untamed at the same time. Like Frankie.

You also missed the way he made you feel so needed when he’d beg for your touch.

But physical touch aside, you missed his mind, too.

You found yourself wanting to bask in his dark humour; the way he was often quiet and observant in social situations, only to cut in with something downright philosophical when it counted. Truthfully, you thought a lot about the way he’d listen, hands on his hips and mouth slightly ajar, looking like he was sizing you up, though you knew he held nothing but empathy and respect for those he cared about. 

It was down to you now. You needed to be the one to show up, for him. You needed to reach out to him, tell him what he means to you, but you were worried you’d missed your chance. That night in your kitchen couldn’t have been more poetic; he’d come running to you and it would’ve been perfect had you crashed into him with open arms and an open mind. But you didn’t. And that left you playing out scenarios in your head, thinking of all the ways you could confess the depth of your affection to your lover. 

What would he say? 

Would he take you in his arms and vow to forget the past? 

Would he be forgiving? Or would he be guarded, detached?

You imagined the latter was more likely, though you had come to accept that you were the one responsible for the limbo you were both existing in.

And of all the ways you’d imagined seeing Frankie again, you never expected it to be in the grocery store; dressed for comfort and definitely not to impress. 

He’s got a six-pack of beers in his hand as you let your eyes soak him up. He looks good, but also exhausted, and although your heart aches at the thought of him struggling, the needy part of you latches onto it as evidence of him missing you.

Frankie had once revealed that he loved sharing a bottle of wine with a woman, as he enjoyed getting comfortable enough with a partner to share the pleasant buzz it gave. And that was something you had delighted in, too, before taking it for granted. Though as you glanced back down at the beers he was holding, you were so thankful for his choice of beverage, as it signified there wasn’t someone waiting on him tonight.  

You found yourself wanting to be the one waiting on him. Being the one he came home to every night, and the thought sent a gentle thrill through your body.

So you held on tighter to your tub of ice-cream, channeling your trepidation into the object in question as it gave your hands something to do and slightly quelled the urge to reach out and touch Frankie. 

As you pluck up just enough courage to walk over to him, he reaches for a bag of chips, and you believe he's blissfully unaware of the baggage you’re bringing him. 

The distance between you is not enough, as you know you’re only a few steps away from having to confront this thing. Tail between your legs, you slowly move closer to him. 

Of course, as an ex-veteran, Frankie had clocked you before you even considered approaching him. He’s grateful for this, though, as it gave him a sliver of time to compose himself before you had eyes on his weary form. However, he can’t help but think the way you’re slinking towards him, in an attempt to appear discreet, is cute. Despite how much he wishes he could refrain from becoming even more infatuated with you.

Arguably, the anxiety in his stomach tells Frankie he’s not ready to face you. Though he doubts he could ever feel completely ready. So, at the moment when you become too close to ignore, he lifts his head, knowing his time’s up.

Words aren’t exchanged for a while. Rather, you’re preoccupied with assessing each other; devouring with your eyes what you’ve been deprived of for over a week. 

Frankie knows he can’t be the one to break the silence. It has to be you, and if he gives you this, he’ll never know whether you mean to fight for him. He needs to see you step outside your comfort zone and give him the words you’ve held hostage.

And you do, after a poignant pause. 

“Hi, uh - … you look…good, Frankie.” is all you manage to say. You find a little more confidence as you go on, and the way you breathe out his name with poise gives Frankie hope for what’s to come. 

He doesn’t think it’s the right time for him to speak, though, and he doesn’t want to spook you should you be preparing to speak candidly. So, he doesn’t say anything.

You gesture towards the beers and chips in his basket, “Oh, are you seeing the boys tonight?”

Frankie puts the basket down, then, and folds his arms over his chest. He gives you a quick shake of the head, before telling you “No.” 

He’s trying to appear unbothered, but the way his laboured breaths are visible through his chest tells you otherwise.

You’re fighting the instinct to run but you somehow manage to continue.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.”, you admit, and then you tell him, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About you. A lot.”

Frankie can’t help himself, and he jumps in, craving your honest disclosure. 

“What do you want. Really?”, he says, and he looks so tired - exhausted by your indecision, and it makes you loathe how avoidant you’ve been with him.

Oh, you think. We’re getting to this now.

“I- I’m not used to… used to letting someone in. Y-You-” and Frankie cuts you off.

“Cariño.”, he says sternly. “I need an answer.”, and he’s begging you.

“Francisco!”, you whine petulantly. And if he couldn’t see the pained expression on your face, he’d be offended. You’re conflicted, and he wants to believe that you’re trying. 

“You want me to tell you how I feel, then listen.”, you assert, before adding a softer “Please”, as you look at him like he could break your heart with any sudden moves.

“Frankie… y-you saw me, like actually took the time to learn it all. I couldn’t hide. I thought you’d find something that would make you leave me alone, and I wasn’t prepared to l-lose it.”

He leans closer, ever so slightly and it’s the encouragement you need to continue.

“Didn’t want to lose you, Frankie. You’re a good man. A man I could love, and… and I was happy but I was afraid it couldn’t last. S-so I kept going back and forth, daring you to stay. Seeing if you’d give up.”, you say, and the last five words come out sounding more uncertain than the rest.

Meanwhile, Frankie’s processing. He inhales every word out of your mouth like he’s gasping for breath. He’s needed to hear this - hear you - and it feels long overdue.

Your strength doesn’t fade, as you continue.

“I don’t know if I deserve you.”, you confess softly, before revealing, “You could be better off with someone else.”, and you can’t look him in the eye as you share such a deep-rooted insecurity with the man you’d come to adore.

It’s genuine, everything you’re saying, and Frankie sees that you’re trying, for him. He’s finding it hard not to say fuck mature communication and comfort you, knowing you could do with some physical touch to ground you. He wants to kiss you until all your worries dissipate, hating the thought that you could ever underestimate yourself in this way. If only you saw what Frankie saw when he looked at you, you’d be walking on air.

But he knows he needs to tread carefully. You’re giving him an inch, and he wants a mile, but he knows you. Knows the vulnerability you’re slowly welcoming is a lot for you, right now, and he’s appreciative regardless.

Then, you go and throw him a curveball. 

Taking a risk, you move in even closer, until your feet are practically covering his, and you’re looking up at him with an innocence and vulnerability in your eyes that you reserve for him, only.

And your voice wobbles as you say, “Shit, Frankie. I need you.”

He looks down at you and you appear so small and fragile beneath his gaze. There’s no trace of your usual playfulness or moxie on your expression. And in your voice, there’s no trace of the pretence you sometimes hide behind when forced to confront your emotions. And Frankie registers that you must really mean it this time.

He needs to believe that you mean it. That you really need him, as the alternative is something he’s not prepared to brave.

Arguably, you’ve put yourself out there this time, and Frankie would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about you reverting back to reticence, should he give you another chance. Who’s to say you’ll maintain this level of communication with him? He can’t go through this again if you aren’t truly invested in moving forward.

“Fuck, I never thought we’d be stood in a grocery store having this conversation.”, you add to ease the tension, and the way Frankie lets out a breathy chuckle tells you he’s just as grateful for the relief from the heaviness.

After a moment of intense deliberation, Frankie arrives at his choice.

He understands that acknowledgement is only the start, and he needs to see that you’re willing to commit to something more, whatever that may be.

But right there on the confectionery aisle, as the artificial lighting of the store illuminates every emotion on your face - and he sees the fear, the concern, and the tenderness that gives you away, Frankie decides that he needs you. 

And, like an addict, he swears to have you in whatever capacity he can get.

You can’t read him, and you’re on edge awaiting his response.

Then with a newfound sense of ease, Frankie picks up the six-pack from the basket beside you, as you watch his every move; afraid you’ll miss something. 

He gestures to the beers, before the slightest hint of a smirk greets you from beneath his baseball cap.

“How about we swap these for some of that wine you like? Then we can head back to my place. Talk some more.” he says.

And he knows those last three words could scare you off. 

Yet as you take his hand, pulling him over to the aisle you need, Frankie feels hopeful. 

It’s a kind of hope that simultaneously scares and excites him, and right now, he’s okay with that.

Thank you for reading! Please consider commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed it. <3

[merrycrisis-if]

So I just want to say that I'm definitely not a suspicious person sending you a suspicious link - suspicious people wouldn't say that outright, right? I just tried to send an ask, hit the character limit, then tried to send a message, and uh, hit the character limit again. Haha. Anyway, here's what Qiu has done to me: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1hcQ_-WQ635cSrgWtEWX1gz7Xv9GbzopT_A5MpvRZA64/edit?usp=sharing

THIS MESSAGE IS THE BOMB!!! I love that you created a google doc just to gush about / psychoanalyse Qiu because of Tumblr asks's character limit, that's so hilarious and amazing!!

OK, now to reply to the message :D

[Re: Qiu] ...They're NOT EVEN AN ADULT YET. It's easy to say "just give up on the only structure you've known all your life because it's toxic" but reality is not always kind; even ignoring any kind of emotional support (which we unfortunately don't really get to see one way or another. Maybe Qiu would have been better off just running off and taking a leap of faith and relying on MC but it's not wrong to feel that the unknown is far more terrifying than the known and there was no way for them to know that choosing MC would have been better. The love of her parents - in whatever form, whether or not it's actually love, is what Qiu has known for most of their life - is a constant as long as they meet expectations.

Exactly, this!! Like, we first meet Qiu when they're still very much finding themselves / figuring out what they want in life. It's definitely a 'coming-of-age' story for them — as much as it is for MC. So their relationship with MC takes place at a point where, like you mentioned, they are still a teen(!) and their parents' expectations and (conditional) love is all that they know. It's never easy to distinguish between what one's own desires, dreams etc. are, and what's simply fed to us by society, by the people we trust/care about (in Qiu's case, it's their parents).

So I think one of the greatest joys of writing Qiu (and their relationship with MC) is acknowledging the imperfection, the growth, and their initial failure to 'do right' by each other back in high school (and the potential to re-visit that and make different choices the second time around).

There are probably bits of “it would be entirely way too selfish of me to ask MC to give up on their opportunity and stay”, among other things, but I’d like to think that feelings of “I don’t deserve to ask this of MC” are also there... Asking or hoping for Qiu to ask them to stay - I get it, I really do, but there’s also a part of me that feels like god DAMN if that isn’t fair, putting the choice on Qiu... Just as Qiu could have stood up for MC, could have shouted their love for MC from the rooftops, could have asked MC to stay; MC could have CHOSEN to stay, could have CHOSEN to prioritize their relationship with Qiu. Could have written emails, snail mail, video calls, flew back for visits, could have given long distance a shot. Maybe it was just the wrong time, wrong place. Maybe back then, neither of them could have made those choices, said those things.

And you bring this up beautifully here, where I think I was really interested in portraying MC's hurt (from MC's perspective) regarding the way Qiu never fought for them, even when they were so ready to throw it all away for Qiu — but then also slowly unpeel the layers of Qiu's perspective as well, i.e. that MC expected grand gestures from Qiu, but truth is, reality was tugging them in opposite directions, and perhaps Qiu did fail to jump off a cliff the way MC wanted them to, but they both failed to try to figure out a more mundane, less grandiose way of keeping in touch, staying in each other's lives etc.

MC back then had been seeing things in a very 'black and white', 'you do or you die' kind of way (as most 'first love' stories go), but I think now that they've had years to mature / grow, there's space for both MC and Qiu to appreciate the nuances of what had happened between them, how things fell apart etc. and acknowledge that in some ways, they were each incapable of doing the things they needed from each other, but nobody was truly at fault.

Again, thanks for the lovely message <3

[saltsicklover]

Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 2 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 1 HERE, and my Master List HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt, from the lovely @inkandarsenic

Romantic Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Platonic Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Fem!Reader

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 14k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, minor character deaths, labor, loss of a child in utero, abandonment, drinking, talks of God and destiny, swearing, general military talk and lingo, descriptions of food and eating, coughing fits, talks of violence, actual violence, blood, vomit and throwing up, mention of near death experiences. ANGST

---

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. The weekend before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A cellphone is tucked between Monsoon's cheek and shoulder, the line trilling. She carries her duffle bags and kit, feeling like a battering ram as she makes her way through the crowd of people. The airport is packed and she can feel just how humid it is form how sticky she feels.

The hallways of the airport wind as she follows the crowd out of the baggage claim. The people around her move just a bit too slowly as they wheel their bags behind them, just begging for someone to trip over them if they dare pass. If there is one thing Monsoon did not miss about being at Top Gun, it's the trip in.

Fuck flying coach.

Fuck PSC Season and all of the families taking all the seats on the military flights.

Fuck the crying lady sitting next to her, who wouldn't stop sobbing at the shitty romcom she was watching, and fuck when she decided to start it over, just to watch it all over again.

But the best thing about coming back has to be seeing her surrogate father, Beau Simpson. Their relationship has only grown stronger since that night at the bar. They have spent countless meals together, drinking at bars when they are in the same place and always sending 'check in' emails. Phone calls have always been a bit dodgy between time zones and deployments.

Neither one knew exactly what they were getting into when the bond between them grew, neither really sure exactly what a parent/child relationship looks like, especially when the child is really an unrelated adult. But as the days went on, and the email chain got longer and longer, things seemed to just make sense.

The pair talked about everything, from work to dating, friendships and recipes. Cyclone opened up about June and their baby, sharing his favorite stories of their marriage. From how they started dating, to the day that June passed, Monsoon heard it all. 

Calla lilies were June's favorite, the only flowers that Beau believes should ever be given to a woman, and Monsoon smiles at the memory of her graduation from Top Gun, and the way Cyclone smiled at her with the bouquet of lilies in his lap.

When Monsoon found herself in Vermont she carved out time to visit June and Baby Boy Simpson at the cemetery. She showed up with two bouquets of calla lilies and a speech to give them. Monsoon cleaned their headstones and laid the flowers delicately across their plots, speaking to them the whole time about herself, and Cyclone, and the world they live in.

Cyclone's phone buzzed in his pocket while in a meeting. When he snuck a peak, he was met with a photo of Monsoon, a light smile adorning her face as she sits just in front of the burial plots. The message read "With Mama June and Bubba, thinking of you, Pops". Cyclone had to excuse himself from the table with tears in his eyes.

As the years went on, the surfaces in Cyclone's office slowly began to fill with more photos of the two of them. The collection of frames started out sophisticated, it really did, but as time went on, the frames became more eclectic, more fun. 

It's juxtaposes the rest of Cyclones office in a way that is almost comical. As he is shouting at someone for their latest fuck up, there are shelves full of silly frames just a few feet away. Cyclone's favorite just so happens to read "Clown College Class President" while Monsoon's favorite is one of those irregular shaped ones, with an oval opening for the photograph.

There is a photo of the two of them tucked in the cockpit of Monsoon's jet. It catches the mechanics off guard every time, but no one dare says a word about it- mostly out of fear that word would get back to Admiral. The photo depicts the two of them at one of those giant truck stops, posing with the large dinosaur sitting out front. She is sat atop of it, like a cowboy, with Cyclone leaning up against it, his shoulder near her thigh. They both wear larger than life smiles as the sun beats down on them. It was a silly thing, really. Both stuck in at little forgotten Air Base in middle America for a flight test, but the pair managed to make the best of it, remembering to take photographs as they went.

There is a postcard folded up in Cyclone's wallet. Once upon a time, it read the catchy saying "Why Not Minot?" printed across the front of it, with a cute little photo of a town square, a little forgotten town in North Dakota. It's one of those bases that people dread being stationed at, that much has always been true, but the little photo on the front of the post card sold a different tale. It wasn't the cutesy saying or the photo that made him keep it, the edges now worn and fibrous. On the back, written in neat blue ink, underneath a little blurb about how there is absolutely nothing to do in North Dakota, the sentence "I love you, Pops" sits next to a scribbly little heart.

The staticky, tolling, phoneline picks up after a few rings as Monsoon pushes around a family with one too many screaming toddlers. They have on those little backpack leashes and Monsoon almost gets close lined as a little dark haired child bursts in front of her without warning. She dodged, but she catches one of those damn rolling bags with her toe. Monsoon barely notices the glare the lady sent her way, but the lack luster wrath of a stranger isn't going to stop her.

"Hey, Kid," Cyclone greets over the line, the smile on his face evident through the sound of his voice. There is no need for an official "hello" to begin the conversation, both knowing full well that Cyclone had been watching the flight itinerary like a hawk to make sure Monsoon wasn't going to be delayed. The call upon landing is just expected at this point, though neither of them have mastered the cool,casual, its good to see you.

"I just landed," A woman walks right into one of the duffle bags hanging off of Monsoon's shoulders, throwing her completely off balance. She hikes the bag higher up on her shoulder, trying to rebalance the hefty weight she is carrying. Monsoon sways like she is at sea, attempting to get her balance back. There is something so familiar about the way she sways a bit, just like the jet carriers do as the waves bash against the metal of the hull.

"Fuck" she curses under her breath, steadying herself once again. For a Seaman, one might think Monsoon would have better balance. Cyclone rolls his eyes on the other side of the phone. "I'll be over for dinner tonight, if that's still the plan,"

"Sure is, I'm making your favorite,"

"Steak and potatoes are your favorite," Monsoon corrects.

"You can correct me without the side of guilt, you know," Cyclone is chuckling through the phone, earning him a roll of the eyes.

"I only meant to tease," There is a nonchalance to her voice, though she is the furthest thing from cool. Cyclone isn't either. His kid is coming home and they get to sit down for a meal for the first time in months and he is beyond excited.

"I'm going to drop my stuff off at my rental, then I'll be headed your way, you better be ready for me to eat enough for a small village," Monsoon heads right for the exit, ready to look for a taxi. "And Pops, maybe think about adding a-" The word "vegetable" fails to make it's way out of her mouth as Monsoon looks up as the double doors in front of her slide open. Cyclone is standing on the other side, a large sign reading "WELCOME HOME KIDDO" sits loosely in his hand, the other holds his phone up to his ear.

It's like one of those cheesy scenes from a movie, both wearing matching grins and laughing. Cyclone knew the whole thing would be a surprise; he took a leave day to make sure he would bet there to pick her up.

"Pops!" The name still makes Cyclone's heart swell, even if he had been responding to that very name for the past few years. It's funny, really, how easy it was for the pair to adjust to the name, though Monsoon waited for him to acknowledge it first before she actually said it.

The acknowledgement came from a recorded phone message, shortly after her first move after her Top Gun Graduation. Cyclone got stuck in on the highway with a dead car and no cellphone. The call came in from a payphone, an unknown number. Cyclone left a message, "Hey, kid, it's Pops, my car died and I am stranded. I could use an assist. Do you know anyone in Missouri?". That message is still saved on Monsoon's phone to this day.

"Hey, Kiddo!" And then Monsoon is stumbling closer, her bags swinging her center of gravity all over the place. He reaches a hand out to take one, ready to throw it over his shoulder, but instead, each one hits the pavement with a hard thud. Monsoon is quickly wrapping her arms around his body, one over his shoulder, one under his arm, meeting around his back and squeezing him hard.

The hug is returned in kind, both damn near trying to squeeze each other to death. It's playful, as they share "good to see you's" and "I've missed you's" .

"I hope you don't mind, Kid, but I invited another one of the recruits to dinner tonight," He speaks the words into her hair. Monsoon pulls back to look up at her Pops with furrowed brows. She doesn't have to say a thing, he already knows exactly what is going through her mind.

"I know it's unorthodox, but, Kazansky said it might be a good idea, and when the good Admiral says something like that, you set another place at the table,"

"Yeah, unorthodox is definitely a word for it," Monsoon is pulling out of Cyclone's embrace, dipping to grab her discarded bags from the pavement. Cyclone grabs one before she can, which earns him a roll of her eyes.

"Be nice, would you?"

"To you or the mystery guest?" Her words are dripping with sarcasm.

"Preferably both," Cyclone chides, poking her in the side with the welcome home sign. She swats it away with a quick hand, both laughing.

"I'll see what I can do,"

---

The sun is setting over the horizon, painting the sky orange with wisps of pink the lower it sinks behind the curve of the Earth. Monsoon is spread out on one of the lawn chairs, relaxing, well, more like waiting out her Pops' little outburst. She had opened the grill to check on the steak, making sure the edges wouldn't be too crispy, and Cyclone all but snapped the lid shut in the middle of her investigation. He banished her to the other side of the patio to wait for the food to finish cooking. Then, and only then, would she be allowed to touch the grill again.

If there is one thing to be true, Cyclone has a method when it comes to grilling. Monsoon had it all explained to her the first time he grilled for the pair of them. He has it down to a science, all from the temperature and the kind of charcoal to use, to the length of marinating time and spices to make even the worst cut of meat from the Commissary the most perfect dinner.

And Monsoon couldn't exactly tell him he was wrong. After all, every single thing Beau had ever placed in front of her tasted delicious, delectable even. Not only that, but Monsoon really couldn't have done it better if she tried. Her Pops wouldn't let her try, either, but that is beside the point.

Soon, everything is pulled off the grill and the pair are inside, Monsoon tasked with setting the table. All of the windows are open, the evening breeze cooling the inside of the house. As she places another fork down, Monsoon takes in the way the breeze dances across her skin. Goosebumps threaten to crest over her exposed arms at the chill the air carries. In that moment, she is thankful for the California air, the smell of the freshly made sides sitting in the center of the table, and the fact that she is setting the table in her Pops' house.

It has been too long since the pair got to sit together and share a meal. Cups of coffee over video chat were no where near as nice and Monsoon couldn't lie, she missed Cyclone's cooking. As she sets down the last knife, Cyclone is bounding down the stairs. His causal jeans and t-shirt have been replaced by a nice pair of brown slacks and a cream polo shirt, tucked in with a belt. He's even sporting loafers.

"Hey Pops, there is something I want to talk to you about tonight," Monsoon shouts down the hall. She tries to shake the bit of nerves rumbling through her chest like a handful of loan bees.

"Okay, kiddo," Cyclone calls back as he is rounding the corner into the kitchen, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, promise,"

"Okay," It's a simple response as he walks further into the kitchen. He pats her on the shoulder as he passes, a loving gesture.

"Got a hot date?" Monsoon chides as she looks him up and down. She sets the bundle of flatware down on the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No," Cyclone is shaking his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her words. "We are having company tonight, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, but I didn't think some random Lieutenant, that is only coming over because the good Admiral all but ordered him to, was someone worth dressing up for."

There is a shrug of her shoulders as her head sways down nonchalantly. Cyclone crosses his arms, mirroring his kid, with a stern look on his face. It's a look that Monsoon isn't used to seeing out of uniform. Maybe it should worry her, but the vein that would usually protrude from his forehead is nowhere to be seen.

"Remember, kid, you too are just 'some random Lieutenant'" Those words stir a bit of anger within Monsoon, but it dissipates as fast as it came.

"Well then, Admiral Simpson, sir," Monsoon stands up a bit straighter, dropping her hands to her sides, "Let me find something more presentable to wear for the strange man who's crashing out family dinner," She grimaces a bit, but they both laugh. Beau is just laughing, in that way that make's his whole body shake, his eyes scrunched closed while whole hearted giggles escape his lips.

"Go on, kid," He waves in the general direction of the hallway, towards the front of the house where she dropped her bags by the front door.

The zipper of her duffle bag slide open easily, the separation of the teeth vibrating her fingertips. Monsoon fishes out a sun dress and a cropped sweater, something to keep her warmer as the sun sets below the horizon. It's a nice enough combination, something that will surly look like she gives a fuck about her appearance without looking like she planned too much. Monsoon changes out of her sweat shorts and t-shirt in the half bath, emerging looking like a brand new woman, though the feeling  of the plane still lingers on her skin.

Just as she is stuffing her travel clothing back into her bag, the doorbell sounds throughout the house, the bells tolling just a bit too loud.

"Jeez, Pops, could that doorbell be any louder?" Monsoon is yelling just as she reaches for the door. She pulls it open with a swift movement, a smile on her face. Then it falls as soon as she sees who is standing on the other side of the threshold.

Clad in a button down shirt, one with a pattern that would rival any rodeo clown, with one too many buttons undone stands Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw; a man she hasn't seen since a deployment five years ago, about six months after she graduated from Top Gun.

There is a gold chain hanging around his neck. It's just long enough to graze over the tops of his collar bones. His shirt is untucked, the bottom a bit wrinkly, like he has tucked and untucked it a couple of times trying to decide which looked better. He made the wrong choice, by Monsoon's calculation, the patterned shirt covering the top of his dark khakis. He looks a bit silly, really, from the chain down to his boat shoes. The thing that catches her the most off guard though, is the fucking mustache he has decorating, no, vandalizing his upper lip.

Her own mouth hangs open just a bit, her hand tightening it's grip on the door handle. Bradley shoots her that mega wat smile, that million dollar, dentist office poster smile- the one that made her swoon all those years ago. But now, now it makes her fucking angry. Or maybe it's resentment that she feels boiling up inside of her, steaming her insides with a sort of sick feeling that she hasn't felt in years.

The last time this strange, queasy feeling flowed through her she was wrapped up in the white sheets of her mattress on an aircraft carrier, somewhere out in the pacific. Her naked body feeding off of the warmth of spot that Rooster once occupied. When she awoke, there was a feeling of contentment that spread over her skin, until she reached over to find the spot next to her cold.

Their deployment relationship ended with a fucking post it note, "Duty Calls" is all it read, scribbled down in a mess of black ink, the pen itself skipping. Hell, the pen couldn't even bother to work long enough to get a complete message through- their relationship simmered down to nothing more than steamy nights together in a twin size bunk while the ocean waves rocked against the carrier.

The contentment drained from Monsoon faster than than the anger could take over, and for a moment there was nothingness in the spaces between her ribs.

And now, Bradley fucking Bradshaw is standing on her Pops' front porch, smiling at her like nothing has ever happened between them, holding a bottle of wine, and somehow she is just supposed to let him in!

"Hello," He scratches at the back of his neck, his brows pinched together just the slightest bit. "Is this Admiral Simpson's house?"

Words are caught in the back of Monsoon's throat, each individual letter sticking her in the esophagus. Monsoon stands there looking at Bradley, each growing a bit more uncomfortable as the seconds go by. But, she is on the inside of the doorjamb, she has the upper hand. Just as she goes to slam the door in his fucking ugly mustache, Cyclone catches the door.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Beau booms, his tone friendly as he sends Monsoon a what the fuck look. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, though it does nothing to relieve the rapidly growing headache that's taking over her skull.

"Come in, come in!" Cyclone practically ushers Bradley into the house. "This is my daughter, Y/N Mitchell, she is in the new Top Gun class as well!"

Beau is doing his best to defuse the tension in the room, between Monsoon's anger, and Bradley's overall discomfort from being in an Admiral's house, the vibes are askew. Bradley crinkles his brows at the information and Beau quickly jumps in with a chuckle, "No relation, but I claim her anyway. Introduce yourself, Son,"

"Brad-"

"We already know each other,"

The pair speak at the same time. Monsoon's tone is full of distain, like the words taste bitter and unforgiving on her tongue. She pushes past Bradley's outstretched hand and past Cyclone. Bradley can't help the fact that his face twists up in confusion as he wracks his brain trying to figure out where exactly he knew her. 

The woman's definitely too upset to be a recent fling- hell, Bradley hasn't even managed to bring a girl back to his place in such a long time. Deployment really limited his prospects and she sure wasn't on the mission he just finished. 

"Please, this way," Cyclone guides Bradley back to the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine from the younger man. They follow the path Monsoon took, down the hall and back to the large kitchen. She is standing at the sink, her hands braced on the counter top.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Bradshaw. If you'll excuse me, I have to speak with my daughter for a second." Cyclone is moving before Bradley can acknowledge him. So, Bradley pretends to be very interested in the view just outside the kitchen window.

"What the hell, kid?" Cyclone carefully grabs Monsoon's elbow, leaning in just a little bit closer to fake some sort of privacy. He sets the bottle of wine on the counter. With all the tension blooming in the air around them, Cyclone decides alcohol is the last thing they need. 

"It's complicated, Pops, just leave it be, okay?" Monsoon is running a hand through her hair, a shallow attempt to ground herself. "I can play nice for one dinner,"

"What the hell happened between you two? And it's not just one dinner, it's the next few weeks."

That fact is met with a grumble from Monsoon. It took her only a few seconds to convince herself that she would be able to make it though a dinner, but the idea of having to see Bradley fucking Bradshaw every day for the foreseeable future had a mixture of nausea and frustration swirling through her. 

"Pops, trust me, this really isn't something you are going to want to hear about, nor do I feel like discussing it in your kitchen, at a whisper, while the man who doesn't even seem to fucking remember me is only a few feet away! No thank you," Monsoon pushes past Cyclone once more, picking up the bowl of salad from the kitchen island and bringing it over to the table. Cyclone is hot on her tail, speaking lowly after her.

"Y/N" That gets her to stop, Beau never uses her first name, "We are not finished discussing this,"

"After supper then," The words leave her tongue sharp, but they are met with a nod of approval. Then Cyclone is moving, ready for the night to move on as planned. 

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Cyclone is turning his attention back to their guest, a makeshift smile plastered to his face, "Please, take a seat, I am just going to grab the food off the grill,"

And then Cyclone is disappearing out the back door, leaving Monsoon and Rooster alone, the room already threatening to burst from the rapidly accumulating tension. Monsoon chances a look at Bradley as she finished setting out the flatware that had been left abandoned earlier, suddenly a little bit glad that her Pops hinted at her to change clothes. She looks good, that much she knows, if only it mattered at this point.

Maybe, if it mattered, Bradley would look at her and realize just how much he walked out on. Maybe he would see the way Cyclone cares for her, and their little family that they've created and know that he threw away his chance to be apart of it. If only he could see just how happy she is now- yet he doesn't even fucking recognize her, and that makes her heart burn like cheap kerosene. It's like gulping down saltwater, the feeling of being forgotten, drowning right out in the open for everyone to see.

As Monsoon is drowning in thoughts of Bradley, he is just trying to remember her.

Bradley takes in the slope of her nose and the freckles that are smattered across her legs. His eyes wander over the frizzy bits of her hair, down the line of her shoulder and ending at the tips of her fingers. The way that she glances at him, her face still turned down as she adjusts the table settings, strikes him as familiar- but in a far off sense of the word. Familiar in the way his own face is reminiscent of his father's. 

His father, Goose, and Maverick... Pete Mitchell... Mitchell!

"Mitchell?" Bradley breaks the silence, his gaze  a bit wider, still locked on her downturned face. Monsoon's eyes shoot up at the name, locking with his dark brown eyes. They bore into her the same way they always had and a part of her aches. 

"Are you-" The breath he sucks into his lungs burns a bit with hazy memory, "Are you Pete Michell's kid?"

An audible, pained groan leaves Monsoon's throat at the question. 

"Not anymore," Are the only words she can manage, the flames of anger licking at her legs.

"But you were, once?" There is almost a ribbon of hope laces somewhere in his tone, but Monsoon pays it no mind. She walks away from the table, keeping her back to Bradley as she attempts to calm the heat of rage that's licking at her legs. 

Why couldn't Bradley just ask her about normal things? Why aren't they talking about work, their partners, their friends. Hell, he could hit on her at this point and it would go over better. 

If he wanted to talk about Maverick- Pete Michell, there were countless times when they were tangled up together in blankets, in the dark save for the crack of light breaking into the room from under the doorway.

He could have asked as they scurried up the stairs of the carrier, their gear smacking against their chests as they ran. Bradley could have asked then, as they bounded out into the early morning, salt soaked air.

Hell, Bradley could have asked over coms, high in the air as the wind whistled past their wings. They were just test flights after all, no enemy to contend with. He could have asked her then.

But he didn't.

"That was a very long time ago," She's turning to the fridge, pulling a pitcher of lemonade out. The sigh that leaves her lips is nothing but tension attempting to escape from the confines of her chest. It doesn't work, and Bradley doesn't catch the hint to just shut the fuck up and leave it be.

"We knew each other, right? When we were kids?" The question catches Monsoon off guard, almost as much as his initial presence did. She wants to laugh, really she does, at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

He didn't remember that fact when they met on the carrier five years ago, and Monsoon tried not to let that bother her, especially when he was buried inside of her, moaning filthy things into her ear. But now? Now he remembers. But somewhere, the memory of their torrid love affair escapes the great mind of Bradley Bradshaw.

"Oh, for fucks sake,"

Though the whole thing is laughable; Bradley isn't laughing. He's holding his breath, too caught up in the scene in front of him, in the soreness of his chest and the way his heart thrums against the backside of his ribcage. 

Fuck how his chest aches. 

There is this part of his past, this piece that he once knew like the back of his hand, that's just in reach now- again, and Monsoon is laughing at him. The memory of her was erased with the sounding of artillery, the three volley's fired into the air. And now, he craves this memory like he craves the memory of his father, the pieces of his innocence having crumbling into his hands like ash.

It still stains his hands that sickly blackish gray, gritty against his skin, though he is the only one that can see it.

The sliding door opens once more and Cyclone is slipping though, holding a large platter of steak in his hand, the meat is grilled to perfection and he looks proud. Bradley looks at Monsoon with furrowed brows, questioning the words that she let slip past her lips. Cyclone steps between them, setting the plate of meat down on to the dinner table, more than enough food to go around.

"Please, Y/N, come and join us," Cyclone is pulling out a seat right next to Bradley, offering it to her. Reluctantly, she pads over, taking a seat next to Bradley who can't seem to take his eyes off of her face. He runs his hands up and down his pant legs, more out of anxiety than anything else. Cyclone takes a seat across from the pair, a tight smile on his face. 

In any other world, it may look like a child introducing their significant other to their father, the way the tension hangs in the air between the trio. Cyclone awkwardly dishes himself servings of the food before passing it to Monsoon, who does the same before placing it down next to her, leaving Bradley to fend for himself. It's petty, that's true, but to Monsoon, it's a small act of defiance. A small fuck you for not remembering her, or the nights they spent together.

The Admiral knows something is going on right under his nose, just out of his understanding. He can see it in the way Monsoon shifts awkwardly in her seat while Bradley's gaze gets overly friendly with the plate in front of him. There's a question on the tip of his tongue, "kid, is Bradley your boyfriend?" but he knows better than to ask it. As he observes longer, he takes in the way his daughter tilts her shoulders just a little further away from Bradley, the arm closest to him resting elbow down on the table. The moment Cyclone notices the unpassed dishes sitting between the pair, he just knows. 

"So," Cyclone clears his throat, "Are you two excited to be back at Top Gun?"

It's a reasonable question, very middle of the road. Monsoon opens her mouth to answer, but Bradley beats her to it.

"Yes, sir. It's good to be back stateside. Hell, it's good to be back on solid ground. I've been stuck on a carrier for the past nine months and I was beginning to lose my mind!" He's chuckling now, and Beau joins in right along side him, the deep chuckles of the men filling the air. "But you know how it can get on the carriers. It's hard to pass the time, no going to the bar with friends, no dating,"

Then, Monsoon's fork hits her plate with a metallic clank against the glass. No dating, yeah, right. Out of all of the things Monsoon pegged Bradley to be, a liar was not one of them, but then again not much could surprise her after the way he left. 

"How about you, kid?"

"To be determined, Pops," The answer is genuine, spoken through grit teeth. 

Maybe she shouldn't be so upset with Bradley's lack of remembrance for her. After all, it's not always the wrong time with the right person. Or the wrong place. Sometimes it's wrong, maybe he just didn't like her that much- more a deployment fling to get him through the lonely nights than a future. 

"Well, I am excited you're back," Cyclone returns her direction, but Monsoon just shoves a fork full of salad into her mouth.

"Sir, can I ask what exactly they called us back for? And are there more of us?" Bradley asks between bites, his fork and knife busy against his plate.

"I am not obliged to share much, but I can tell you that fifteen of you have been called back, from varying Top Gun classes." The explanation leaves something to be desired, but both recruits are nodding on the other side of the table. Bradley eats another bite of steak, complimenting Cyclone on his grilling; Monsoon is just pushing the food around on her plate with the tines of her fork. It's easier than finding the appetite that was lost somewhere between the front door and the kitchen after Bradley's arrival.

"Are you teaching us this go around, Pops?" Monsoon's question is spoken quietly, in the middle of Bradley's sentence about his own grilling technique- there is no remorse for the interruption.

At her words, Cyclone visibly stiffens, his fork stilling on his plate. Then he's setting it down, eyes still locked with his plate. With a huff and a lick of his lips he looks across the table, met with two pairs of curious eyes. He knew this was going to be hard, but he didn't expect it to be quite like this. 

"No, I'm not teaching," Cyclone takes another breathe, unsure who to make eye contact with, knowing the words he's about to say are not going to be received well, by either one of them. "We- Top Gun has decided to bring in-"

The doorbell is ringing loudly through the house, startling Cyclone in his seat. It breaks though the tension like a fucking bullet, the whole thing blasting apart on impact. The trio trade glances that last milliseconds, like someone just knows whos going to be standing on the other side of that door.

"I'll get it, Pops," Monsoon is already pushing out of her seat, placing her napkin next to her plate. She is a bit too eager to get away from the tension surrounding that table, not only from her question but from the way Bradley is basically staring out of the corner of his eye. Though she can't exactly see it happening, she can feel it- the way his eyes are boring into the side of her head, almost burning. She will take anyone being on the other side of that door if it means she doesn't have to sit in Bradley's swimming gaze any longer. 

"No, you stay, I'll get it," Cyclone corrects, "You stay and chat,"

Then, Cyclone is pushing away from the table, heading right for the front door. He gives his daughter no time to protest. Cyclone leaves the slowly rebuilding tension behind him, and Monsoon is stuck having to sit back down, next to Bradley, left to simmer in it.

"We did know each other, right?" Bradley is quick to ask the moment Cyclone rounds the corner. It's a speed he's not used to- too used to sitting and waiting for the perfect timing that just doesn't come. But this isn't something he's willing to wait on, it's just something he has to know.

"Yes, Bradley, we knew each other. But that was a long time ago," Monsoon is shrugging, avoiding his eyes. The words should have hit him harder, from the way they all but flew from her lips, but the impact is almost gentle, like the comfort of them bore the brunt of it all.

"Do you remember my father?" The question is so innocent that it almost hurts; and Monsoon knows just how much throbbing pain there is inside Bradley. After one drunken night while on the carrier, he poured his heart out about his father, about how much he missed him and how he wished- hoped that Goose would have been proud of him. Monsoon sat and listened the to the whole thing, through the tears and drunken hiccups, reassuring Bradley that Goose would be proud of him.

After all, she knewhim, even if that was a million years ago- even if Bradley didn't know it.

She knows he would have been, because Goose was a good man.

A trait that seemed to have skipped over Bradley.

Good men remember their lovers. They remember their old friends. They remember the people who showed up to their mother's funeral- and have the decency to show up to their friends' mother's funeral.  

Good men don't leave women in the dead of night, a break up message scrawled on a sticky note. They don't leave their friends to grieve alone. They don't forget. 

"Yes, I remember him," Monsoon chances a glance at Bradley, unintentionally meeting his eyes. God, he's looking at her like she holds the fucking secrets to the universe and all she can feel is a sort of twisted up sickness, like her sternum is bound together with poisoned ropes. Bradley can see the stars that cling to her fingertips, the secrets to the cosmos, but can't seem to find the words to beg for their translation.

Cyclone is walking back into the room a second later, accompanied by another set of footsteps. Neither Monsoon nor Bradley look up when they walk in, both too busy staring at each other. Bradley looks curious, Monsoon looks hurt. 

She looks away first. 

A tall blond walks in behind Cyclone, his gaze focused on a set of files in his hand. He's reading over the top file carefully, running his free hand through his cropped hair. There is a toothpick in his mouth, resting between his teeth. Dressed in his tan uniform, his biceps are straining against the cuffs.

He's a Stetson model type, clean cut and masculine. The line of his jaw accentuated by the clean lines of his uniform. His jaw ticks with frustration as his brows furrow at the paperwork. There appears to be a word on the tip of his tongue by the way the toothpick bobs between his plump lips.

"Hey, guys, sorry for that, this is-" Cyclone swings his hand, introduction interrupted by twin gasps.

"Jake?!"

"Hangman?"

Hangman isn't sure who to look at first, but his eyes meet Bradley's form first, his eyebrows knitting together at the familiar face before shooting to his hairline when his eyes land on Monsoon sitting next to Bradley.

"Y/N, Doll! What are you doing here?"

Cyclone is whipping his head around in the way he might flip a jet. And Monsoon is pushing out of her chair again, ready to round the table and throw herself into the arms of the strong, blond man who just walked in, but her eyes meet the bewildered look on Cyclone's face, causing her to halt her movements. Hangman sets the paperwork down on the kitchen island, his eyes still locked on Monsoon, that damn smirk of his playing on his lips. Monsoon can tell he is holding himself back, fully aware of exactly who's house he is standing in, and the relationship between Monsoon and the Admiral.

It's been months since they've seen each other. Their goodbyes were said on the front porch of his little rental outside of Lake Hurst. Neither of them relished being in New Jersey, but they had each other and that's all that had mattered. They fostered a brand new relationship over a year, neither of them brave enough to label the nights spent together in that house. 

Then new orders came down the pipeline, on a TS Need-To-Know. The pair were being separated with the flick of a pen. So, they labelled their year long relationship through tears standing on his stoop, the night the orders came down the channel. 

They packed Jake's small house, and Monsoon's apartment, neither one knowing just what was to come. In the name of a temporary duty station, they got storage units next to each other, the closest thing to living together they'd be able to swing. 

That was six months ago. 

Monsoon did a little time in Pensacola while Jake got sent to Oak Harbor. Thousands of miles apart, their dates turned from late night dinners to quick conversations over the phone just to hear the other's voice. 

Neither of them expected their reunion to be here, in Admiral Simpson's kitchen, with Bradley Bradshaw and the Admiral watching the whole thing, confused expressions written into their features. 

"I got recalled to Top Gun!" Monsoon giggles a bit, her gaze still trapped with Hangman's.

"Me too!" The words leave Jake's lips and the pair are smiling. It's taking everything for them to hold themselves back from embracing each other, after months apart. Then, Cyclone is clearing his throat.

"Pops," Monsoon begins, clasping her hands in front of her, "God, this is weird. Remember earlier this evening when I said I wanted to talk to you about something?"

She had fully been intending on telling her Cyclone about her relationship with Hangman, in fact, she had been working up the courage for the past few weeks. But, Jake comes with a record, a reputation, and a respect problem, things Monsoon knows her Pops won't approve of. 

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" The words are leaving Cyclone's lips almost too quick, but Monsoon is quick to reassure him that it is.

"Well, this isn't exactly how I saw this going, but, Pops, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jake Seresin," Monsoon is gesturing to Jake now, a worried smile on her face. The pair know each other, of course they do. They had met the first time Hangman went through Top Gun. Cyclone was on instructor duty and Hangman didn't take overly well to being instructed; though he did finish top of his class. 

Monsoon bobs up and down on the balls of her feet, the nervous energy flowing through her body. If she could push all the energy out of her and into the floor she would. Her soles grounding the electric current flowing through her, unapologetic and lightning hot. Monsoon would stand there in front of the three men who have played such a large roll in her life, back straight and eyes forward like the Navy trained her to do, if only she could coral that fucking energy and send it straight through the floor.

Monsoon bounces instead.

If she had the time, she could have prevented the look that crosses Cyclone's face. That look of you're not good enough for my kid that is so evident on his features. She knows that Jake saw it, clear as day from the way he almost winces. Everyone in that room knows the reputation that Hangman wears like a neon sign. The "voted biggest player" social life with the stellar callsign, the pilot known for leaving his wingman hanging, acting alone- selfish.

So much for putting off telling Cyclone; so much for easing him into the news. 

Bradley is watching the whole exchange from his seat with his eyebrows raised, like a fucking soap opera but the whole spectacle's happening in real time. He lets his eyes shift from person to person, taking it all in. Monsoon looks hopeful, though she is waiting with baited breath for her Pops to blow a fucking gasket. Jake, on the other hand, looks absolutely cool. Though he is the reason for the interruption, and for the impromptu introduction, he is impossibly collected. Then, Bradley's eyes shift to Cyclone, who has backed up a few steps. He keeps looking between Monsoon and Hangman, like he is playing some sort of invisible game of connect the dots.

Hangman and his fucking reputation are courting his daughter, and Cyclone really isn't thrilled about the news. 

Though Bradley isn't exactly thrilled to see Hangman here either, he's taking the whole thing in stride, as opposed to Cyclone, but the younger man can't exactly blame him. If it were Bradley getting this major bomb dropped on him, he wouldn't be sitting pretty, either. Bradley is bringing his glass up to his lips, his eyes still flashing between the trio.

"Monsoon-" Cyclone starts, but the sound of coughing interrupts. Bradley is coughing, choking on his water. He attempts to wave a hand, letting everyone know he's okay, but in reality, he's far from it.

Monsoon. The woman he left asleep in her bunk five years ago stands next to him now, and not only that, they fucking grew up together, at least for a little while. And she remembers his Dad, and she's Maverick's kid. And fuck, she's dating Hangman!

Things are moving just a bit too fast, and Bradley can't quite catch his breath between coughing fits. 

The glass is quickly set back onto the kitchen table, but is sent over the edge as Bradley reaches for a napkin. The glass falls in faux slow motion, the liquid flowing from the cup as it hits the hardwood, shattering like a pinprick galaxy upon the floor. Bradley, still coughing, searches the new formation of cosmos on the floor for the answer to all the mixed up bullshit he has found himself in.

"Rooster?" Monsoon pats him harshly on the back, right between his shoulder blades. Then, she is rubbing his back, her hand full of warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin burns under her touch as he struggles to return his breathing to normal. There's still a knot in the back of his throat made of unsaid words and new revelations that he can't seem to swallow down. 

"Rooster, are you okay?"

Hangman and Cyclone are quick to circle around the table, Hangman taking a knee next to Monsoon, his hand quickly finding her lower back. Cyclone is on the other side of Bradley, the glass crunching under his expensive leather loafers. Bradley is red from all the coughing, but an embarrassed blush still floods his skin from all the attention.

"Mons?" The nickname comes out all scratchy as Rooster wipes a newly formed tears from his eyes. The concerned expression morphs to hold a bit of shock before settling on some sort of mix of frustration and downright sadness. Monsoon tries to school her expression but her eyes still swim with emotion as they are locked with Bradley's.

"Yeah, Roos," Monsoon shoots his nickname right back, a confirmation that all but shakes the world around Bradley. She brings a tender hand up to squeeze his shoulder before pulling back, subconsciously leaning closer to Hangman, into the warmth of his hand on her back. She finds safety in her boyfriend's touch, the warmth of his skin pooling against her through the fabric of her dress. 

The lack of contact makes Rooster feel cold, but the feeling is short lived as Cyclone is grasping at his other shoulder. A swivel of his head and Bradley is met with the furrowed brows of the Admiral.

"Are you okay, Mr. Bradshaw?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley responds, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "I'm so sorry about the glass, please, let me clean it up,"

As Rooster stands, he is pushed back down gently by Cyclone, his hand still on the younger man's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it, please," And so Bradley is sitting again, in the center of the standing trio, feeling completely out of place. "As for the two of you, take a seat, we have some things to discuss,"

The sound of chairs being pulled out against the hard wood floor is accompanied by the intense ringing of the doorbell once again. The group look from person to person, once again looking for any clue as to who could be at the front door this time. Cyclone is padding over to the door, the crunching of glass less evident the further away her gets.

Bradley attempts to clear the lump in his throat, now without the luxury of his glass of water. Monsoon takes her untouched glass and slides it closer to Bradley, a barely there smile on her face. Her expression holds more sympathy than anything. Bradley takes the glass with both hands, a little too careful as he brings it up to his lips. 

"Let me get you a plate, okay?" Monsoon speaks to Hangman, her smile clearly wider, brighter, more full of life when it's directed his way. "Pops will give me so much grief if he comes back and that spot isn't set,"

So, Monsoon excuses herself from the table, leaving the men sitting in apprehensive silence. 

With a strong tug from Cyclone, door swings open and there is no time for a 'hello' as the man on the other side is pushing in, a wild look in his eye, a vein on his forehead bulging with frustration.

"We need to talk Simpson," The tone holds misplaced authority. Beau runs cold at the sight of Pete "Maverick" fucking Michell standing in his entryway, looking pissed off enough to catch a charge.

"That's Admiral Simpson to you Captain," Cyclone's teeth are grit so hard they might crack under the pressure of his jaw. "You cannot be here right now,"

The raised hand does nothing to stop Maverick from pushing further into the house. There's a folder in his hand, wrinkling under the closing of his fist. Sweat clings to the Admiral's brow, a vision of the crown of thorns, droplets running down the side of his face. It might as well have been blood from the way his stomach twists as Maverick steps closer to him, pushing the paperwork, right against the center of his chest.

"Do you know who got recruited for this mission, huh?" The words are dripping with venom, "Do you realize who you've chosen for this fucking death wish of a goddamn mission?"

Captain Michell's tone is all accusatory and full fury. He's pushing into Cyclone's chest harder, his knuckles white under the pressure. Cyclone grabs at the older man's wrist, his own knuckles paling as he squeezes.

"Captain, I will not repeat myself, you cannot be here,"

"Who is it, Pops?" Monsoon is calling from around the corner, her voice full of curiosity. Cyclone isn't a praying man, especially after what happened with June and their sweet baby boy, but now Cyclone is praying to every god, every deity that crosses his mind, even those who's names he cannot recall, that his daughter will not walk around the corner to see Pete Mitchell standing in his entry way.

"Nobody, kid, I'll be there in just a moment," He calls before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. He tightens his grip on Pete's wrist before he's wrenching it away from his chest. He pushes it back into Pete's own chest, leaning in close, "My daughter is not to see you here, leave. Now."

One might think Maverick would get the hint, since he pulls his hand from Cyclones grip. But then, Maverick is throwing open the file, pointing at the first page's photo. There is so much frustration in the action, it bounces between the two men like they're sounding boards, building and building.

"See this? Jake "Hangman" Seresin? You really want to send somebody in the sky who has a pension for leaving their wingman? You want to send someone into the air with a guy like him when the mission is already guaranteeing a loss of life?" 

That catches the attention of the trio in the other room. All motion stills as they strain to hear more. 

Wide mouthed, pointed tongue, Maverick is yelling without a care in the world. It doesn't matter who hears as long as Cyclone is hearing it too.

"And how about this," The paper tears as Maverick turns the page, "Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. You know about his father. You damn well know about Goose and you want to send his son to an early grave too?"

Jaws tick, fists tighten. Cyclone breathes deeply, thinking- choosing his words carefully as the older man continues to scream. It's not beautiful or noble like books would describe. There is no gift from God, no blessing, no one anointed with the ability to see into the future, to see just how this is going to play out. Instead, it's just words exchanged between mortal men, both too damn stubborn to back down with knives to each other's throats.

"And check out these two," Maverick is laughing now, leaning in closer to Cyclone, his breathe reeking of whiskey. Cyclone can see the way Maverick's eyes are bloodshot and weepy as he pushes him back. Sweat coats his skin leaving him clammy to the touch. 

"Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Robert "Bob" Floyd," Another strangled laugh escapes Captain Mitchell, "You really think this scrawny kid and a woman are up to the task at hand? Really? I can think of at least five better pilots and Wizzos who are better qualified than these two. And look! She's the pilot! Hell, I don't even know how they made it through Top Gun the first time around! The fucking Navy is getting soft."

"It's time for you to go, Captain Mitchell. Sober up. We will discuss this on Monday," Cyclone puts a hand to the older man's shoulder, attempting to usher him out without too much force. Cyclone can't risk Maverick being in his house any longer. He has already been gone too long and his guests are likely getting curious. "Time to go, Pete,"

"But, Cyclone, you haven't even heard the best part," Maverick can barely get the words out through drunken laughter. He's turning the page with clumsy fingers, the paper tearing under his touch.

The trio, Rooster, Monsoon, and Hangman round the corner as Cyclone is attempting to usher Maverick out the front door. They watch as the Maverick stumbles out of Cyclone's grip and further into the house.

"Pops?" Monsoon speaks as the strange man hits the floor, laughing as he does. The file has fallen open, scattering pictures of the newest Top Gun brain child called The Dagger Squad. They sit scattered all over the entry way like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes go to the paper that falls near her feet. 

"Well if it isn't the prodigal child," Maverick speaks, pushing himself further off the floor. "How many strings did you have to pull to get your own daughter onto the squad? Are you trying to send this kid to an early grave like the last one?"

The three Daggers stand speechless. Monsoon is quickly folded under Hangman's arm, her face pressed into his chest. Rooster stands just off to the side of them, his eyes flashing to Monsoon. 

The arguing doesn't stop.

"Shut your mouth," Cyclone spits, "You don't know a goddamn thing,"

Maverick stumbles to his feet, standing up at straight as possible to get into Cyclone's face, just to taunt the younger man.

"See, Admiral, that's not true, now is it? You and I both know that she isn't actually yours and this would be an easy way to get rid of her, right? Send her back to-"

His words are met with a swift punch to the face, the cartilage of his nose crunching under Cyclone's knuckles. The punch feels good, like it had been coming for a long, long time. Like it had been building within Beau Simpson for years, every single time Maverick missed out on a celebration of the amazing life Monsoon is leading. For every birthday, every graduation, every reenlistment and promotion ceremony, Maverick missed it all, and the rage built inside Cyclone. Now, it finally came out, popped like a Champaign cork, blood instead of the fizzy alcohol dotting itself over Cyclone's entryway.

A warm hand slips into Monsoon's; Bradley stepped closer, clutching onto her. He recognized Pete Mitchell the moment he got a clear view, both his anger and anxiety flaring. Bradley squeezed her hand once, nice and strong, before dropping it once more, stepping in front of her and Hangman.

"Captain Mitchell," Bradley begins, his voice firm, full of hurt.

The words make Monsoon's head spin. She leans away from her boyfriend's chest to get a better look at the bloody faced man and it sends a chill down her spine. Her Dad who she hasn't seen in years is now standing in a room full of people who can't fucking stand his existence. It's a fucking miracle that all he has is a bloody nose.

"Bradley," Pete spits a little bit of blood as he speaks, looking up at the younger man. He reaches a hand out, but it's dodged. "It's good to see you, son,"

"I'm not your son. It's time for you to go," Bradley is ready to grab Pete Mitchell by the collar and haul him out of the house. He's ready to throw him onto the lawn and leave him there to spit blood and sober up enough until he can walk himself home. Bradley has his own selfish reasons, his own grudge against the Captain, and now would be as good a time as any to feed into that frustration that he's been stewing in for years.

"I'm calling Admiral Kazansky," Cyclone declares to the room, then he's spinning on his heel the moment Bradley takes a step closer, clearly putting himself between Maverick and Monsoon.

The Admiral is ordering Hangman to move, to take his daughter anywhere else so that she doesn't have to see any more of the disaster that the night has turned out to be. He doesn't want her to see him throw Maverick out- hell, he didn't want her to see him punch the older man, but there's no going back in time. 

As much as Cyclone wishes he could have protected her from this, he couldn't. One can't stop a speeding bullet, as they say, and the shot had already been fired the moment he pulled open the front door. And as much as he doesn't want to, Cyclone has to trust Hangman with his daughter, he just has to, now. 

So, Hangman is all but carrying Monsoon away as she fights to stay put. She misses the order from her Pops, her blood thrumming too loudly through her ears. Hangman takes her through the house, dodging the pile of glass still glittering on the hardwood in the kitchen, hauling her out the backdoor and right to his truck. Monsoon flights the whole time, though it's unclear as to her reason to want to say behind.

The pair are pulling away from the house as Bradley and Beau are hauling Maverick out to the front lawn, his nose still pouring blood.

Jake drives in the direction of his apartment, holding onto her hand the whole time. He squeezes it reassuringly though there isn't much he can assure her of at the moment. Neither of them know what's going to come of Maverick, or of Cyclone's heated action against him. They don't know if Bradley is going to get caught in the crossfire, or if they are going to get called into the MP's office sometime in the middle of the night.

There is no clear answer, so, Hangman squeezes her hand and drives.

And drives.

And drives.

As far away as he can get from that house, that situation, the feeling in his chest spurred on by the broken look in Monsoon's eyes.

He drives until the sun crests over the horizon. Pulling off onto the side of the highway, Hangman kills the headlights, the world around them just beginning to come to life. That's when the tears come, falling fast and hard from the pools of Monsoon's eyes. Hangman just holds her there, inside of the truck.

The world around them awakens as Monsoon's falls apart, crumbling like unquenched Earth between her fingers. Maybe that's what the whole situation is, after all, how many times have the great authors related relationships to gardens, to plants, to life. Without nurture, without care and tending, the soil dries out, the plants die. The whole garden becoming a wasteland for the decaying plant matter; the soil turning to clay as the days roll on.

But isn't decay an unescapable fact of life?

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Two weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Hangman had completely expected to pretend like the whole fight at the Admiral's house didn't happen when he met up with the other recruits at the bar, save for Monsoon. He took a little too much joy ordering drinks for the team on Maverick's tab- the older man not seeming to remember him from the incident, even after Hangman sent him a wink and a "thanks, Pops,".

When Bradley strutted in like the world was full of golden promise, Hangman took it upon himself to act like it was the first time they had seen each other in years. Bradshaw was quick to get the memo: last week didn't happen.

There's no surprise that Maverick got thrown out of the Hard Deck that night, either. Hangman sure as hell wasn't expecting to be the one to throw Maverick out of the bar, but that part gave him a sense of pride that he can't quite put words to.

The feeling bloomed in his chest as he watched Maverick hit the sand. A wide smile spread across his face as he yelled for him to "come back anytime," if that meant getting more free alcohol and the chance to throw him out again. Then, as Hangman closed the doors behind him while Rooster began one hell of a rendition of "Great Balls of Fire", everything felt like it was going to be okay.

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

Tensions are high now, Hangman and Rooster's rivalry is back and stronger than ever. They have been at each other's throats since that night at the Hard Deck, though the reason wasn't the mission or the usual dick measuring contest, even if the other recruits would say that it is.

They have been battling it out over a woman. Monsoon, specifically. The team doesn't know about her involvement with Hangman, and the pair try and keep it that way. So, she sits in the back of the classroom, right behind Yale and does her best to pay attention. The mission seems more impossible by the minute, the deadline has been moved up, and nobody has been successful.

Rooster and Maverick argue about the plane vs the pilot and how he had been the only one to make it to the target, though it was a minute late.

Then, Hangman opens his fucking mouth, living up to that reputation of his. "It's no time to be thinking about the past,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rooster's expression is unreadable, though his brows twitch.

"I can't be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man!" Hangman continues through Maverick's pleas, "Or that he was the one flying when-"

Rooster is out of his seat in a matter of seconds, launching himself at his fellow Lieutenant. Hangman took it too far this time. Rooster gets one good push in before the rest of the squad are separating the two hot headed men from each other, everyone yelling for the fighting to stop.

Everyone but Monsoon, who sits in the back staring at the fight in front of her and can't seem to make herself move.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, hey, I'm cool, I'm cool," Hangman reassures, pulling out of the arms of his teammates.

"He's not cut out for this mission, you know it... You know I'm right." He gets up into Bradley's face, a fucking smirk on his lips. The others are still holding Bradley back as he calms down, but it's that fucking smirk that spurs him on.

Bob's hands slip from Rooster's shoulders as he gets into Hangman's face. "You think you can talk shit about my family when it's your girl that's got the most fucked up situation of all," Bradley keeps his eyes trained on Hangman, but the blonde's eyes tick to the side, in the direction of Monsoon, who is still in her seat. It's Bob who notices the way Hangman's eyes shift, and he's the first person to look in Monsoon's direction. Then, Bob's nudging Phoenix. 

They watch as Monsoon tenses in her seat, her jaw ticking. Her hands grip the arms of her chair, knuckles white. Then, Bob and Phoenix turn their attention back to the men as the screaming match continues. 

"I'm not the one who broke up with her on a goddamn post-it note, Rooster," Hangman points out with a raise of his brows, that stupid little smirk still evident on his lips. Rooster is bringing his hands up to his temples, his expression scrunched.

"You son of a bitch," Rooster is cursing at him through grit teeth, his voice low.

The crowd of Aviators are still gathered around the two men watching them fight, Maverick's eyes flicking between them as words are exchanged. His mind flashes back to two weeks ago, when he broke down the Admiral's door and saw them standing there with Cyclone. He suddenly flashes his eyes back to Monsoon, only to be met with her piercing glare.

"What? Was taking her father for yourself not good enough for you? Did you have to break her heart too?" Hangman questions, watching as Bradley's face contorts, "You're just pissed because not only could you not keep your shit Rio of a father around, you couldn't keep the girl, either,"

"That's enough!" Monsoon shouts, her eyes finally leaving Maverick. The Daggers' eyes are locked on Monsoon at the back of the makeshift classroom, anger evident on her features. Then, with her hands firmly planted on the table in front of her, she is pushing up from her seat.

"Seresin," Monsoon begins, turning her eyes to him, "First, you will not speak about my uncle that way. Goose was a good man and a damn good Rio. Uncle Nicky would have moved the fucking Earth for Bradley, or for Maverick, or for me and my Mama, don't you dare think anything different."

Monsoon is moving closer to the group now, taking each step slowly, methodical as her words. There is a large, yellow envelope tucked under her arm as she approaches. She had been sitting with that envelope since their first class, no one having even the slightest idea what's tucked inside.

"Secondly, Rooster, my relationship with Jake is not your business, not now, not ever. What we had was over the moment you wrote that post-it and walked out the door. You didn't even remember the fact that we grew up together, for fucks sake. I get it, I was your little deployment fling, and that's all. Now, you get to live with the fact that's all I'll ever be. Hangman put you in your place, now say in it."

The crowd is too stunned to speak, but there is a rumble of laughter that escapes Maverick. He doesn't even try to hide it, thinking the tension in the air would be enough to cover it. But then, Monsoon is turning her pointed gaze to him.

"Finally, Captain Mitchell," There is a sick little smirk on her lips as she says his name, "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. After all, Bradley had to get his pension for forgetting women from somebody."

Monsoon is standing toe to toe with Maverick now, eyes locked in on his, "After all, I've been in this class for what, two weeks, and I know you have had the roster for longer than that, considering that little stunt you pulled at my Pop's house. You think it's funny to forget someone when your own flesh and blood is standing right in front of you?"

Maverick furrows his brow, head cocking to the side. Monsoon can practically see the gears turning in his head with the way his eyes move across her features. She breathes deeply a couple of times, letting his mind piece the puzzle together.

"I asked you a question, but go ahead, take your time," Monsoon leans in just a fraction further, "After all, I'm told I look more like my mother, anyway," Wide eyes from the man in front of her stir out a strangled giggle from her chest.

"Wha- bu-" Maverick flounders, his mouth opening and closing, no words forming on his lips.

"Hi, Dad," The name is said with so much venom as she pushes the envelope against his chest with enough force to make him stumble. Monsoon doesn't wait for him to recover before she is turning to walk down the aisle of the makeshift classroom, paying no attention to the stares, the eyes burning holes into the back of her head. Instead she focuses on the momentary feeling of lightness that washes over her as she leaves the hanger.

It isn't until Monsoon rounds the corner that the tears begin pricking at her eyes. She takes off running as soon as the first one hits her cheek, the only thing she can hear over the rushing of blood in her ears is the thunking of her heavy boots on the pavement.

The Daggers stand looking at Maverick. He's holding the envelope to his chest, unsure of the emotions wracking though his body. Then, with a quick hand, he's crudely tearing at the envelope. The contents pour out over the floor of the hanger, looking just like that night at Admiral Simpson's house. Maverick tries to push that thought from his mind as his eyes focus in on the papers covering the floor.

Birthday Cards. Children's birthday cards.

The same ones he wrote to her for her first ten birthdays. He can't even get himself to bend down to pick one up, his neck aching from the way he stares down at them. He notices the little circles of wrinkled paper from long dried tears and his heart fucking breaks. 

The image of Monsoon at four, at seven, that he can see clearly in his mind, but there's a gap missing. Still, Maverick imagines her sitting and rereading the cards at seventeen, at twenty-two, crying over them and the father she could barely remember. Tears prick at Mavericks eyes and he lets them, making no attempt to wipe them away. 

It doesn't take long for the Daggers to figure out that the pile of cards is noticeably small, no more than nine or ten cards on the ground, though no one is near brave enough to say anything.

Moments like this remind Maverick he's still just a mere man. No matter how many records he breaks, aircrafts he tests, or brushes with death he encounters, Maverick is nothing more than a man with a skill set. He has flaws. He makes mistakes. 

That fact is almost too much for him to take. 

The memory of Goose flashes through his mind, the moments leading up to the failed ejection birth the feeling of ocean water weighing down his flight suit, soaking into the padding of his helmet as the water washes over them. So much blood where there should be none. And then Maverick is thinking about cleaning the scraped knees of his daughter, the blood bubbling up through the road rash. The tears, then, were hers as she begged, "Daddy, not the ouch-y cleaner, I don't like it,". But Maverick cleaned her wounds with the alcohol anyway, only to end up holding her against his chest in the same way he would hold Goose in less than a year. 

Maverick's mind is a patchwork quilt of shit memories; stuck reliving them all, fragment by fragment. 

"Class dismissed," Maverick manages, his eyes still glued to the floor. The sounds of fourteen pairs of boots, first loud then quieter as they go, leave the hanger, leaving him standing there, looking at the past he threw away illustrated simply in faded and forgotten birthday cards.

The hands of the clock circle once before Maverick moves. He walks right over the pile, his boots leaving angry, dark tread marks across the colorful paper. He doesn't look back once, not at the pile of cards, not at the hanger, not at the base. 

He drives straight for the Hard Deck. It's the only thing he can think to do, and after all, maybe Penny has some sort of advice. She's the only person he actually knows with a kid- a daughter.

Maverick only makes it half way before he has to pull over. Quickly, he throws himself off his bike, his knees hitting the dirt as he empties the contents of his stomach. As a pilot, he should have a stronger stomach than this, but a choice he made almost eighteen years ago is coming back to haunt him. 

He can still see Monsoon's eyes in the forefront of his mind. They haven't changed a bit from when she was a kid, Maverick realizes, as he's sat back on his haunches trying not to puke again. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the feeling of his swirling stomach. 

Maybe he should have stuck around, or at least circled back when he wasn't on deployment. After all, Maria left messages on his machine for almost two years after he up and left. It started with her begging to call which slowly turned into begging him to at least send a fucking birthday card. So he did. 

Then, she stopped calling, and he stopped writing. Monsoon grew up. 

It would be so easy to blame Maria. When she stopped calling, he stopped remembering. Between deployments and missions, flight tests and ceremonies, Maverick could pretend that it all got lost in the shuffle. But then, he remembers Maria and the way she always seemed to flawlessly manage her Naval carrier with raising their daughter, how she could juggle it all without his help when he was deployed and it was all okay. At least that's what he told himself. 

So, he thought if she could do it alone already, no harm could come from putting in for extra duty. That turned into extra deployments, more time away from home. He knew it was all a lie, but he had to tell himself something to justify it. 

It did get easier after a while, as his daughter slowly slipped to the back of his mind. It wasn't until one day, six years after he left that the realization hit him. Maverick hadn't thought of his daughter in months. He should have felt more guilty; he drank himself sick at the thought.

Two years later Maverick didn't even realize he missed her eighteenth birthday. 

Or her twenty-first. 

Over the years he convinced himself he did the right thing. That part of his past became a distant memory that he told himself he didn't miss. Maverick would be lying to himself if he still believed that to be true in this moment, sat on the side of the road after having been faced with the consequences of his long forgotten actions. 

Maverick kept one constant reminder playing on repeat in his mind all those years, You can't be a bad father if you aren't there to be one at all. 

And for the first time since he walked out, Maverick thinks he may have been wrong. 

He sits on the side of the road until the sun sets, stewing in his misery. When he manages to pull himself back up onto his bike, he heads for home, knowing that if Penny knew the whole story he would be on the outs with her, too. And so, he drives slowly, back to an empty house, wishing for the first time in years that it wouldn't be empty when he got there. 

---

When Monsoon finally reached Cyclone's office, eight blocks from the hanger, she almost collapsed in the entryway of the building. But, she pushed through the crowd, ignoring the calls of his assistant who insisted that Cyclone could not be interrupted while he was in a meeting. Monsoon couldn't find it in herself to care. 

When she pushes the door to his office open, she is met with three pairs of eyes. Iceman, Warlock, and Cyclone's eyes meet her frame. She is breathing heavy from the mix of running and sobbing, though it's unclear as to which is causing the redness in her cheeks. 

"Excuse me, recruit, but you can't-" Warlock starts, closing the file sitting in his lap. There is an edge to his tone, not taking too kindly to being interrupted. 

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Cyclone is cutting off Warlock without a second thought. The moment he moves out from behind his desk, Monsoon is throwing herself into his arms, her barely contained tears now overflowing. Without a second thought, Cyclone is folding her into his arms, doing his best to hold her shaking form. 

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her," Cyclone's assistant huffs, running a hand through his hair. Cyclone waves the younger man off, the door closing behind him with a click. Then, Cyclone is wrapping his daughter tighter in his arms, one hand coming up to rub between her shoulders while the other is wrapped securely around her waist. 

"I'm sorry, gentleman, but the meeting will have to be continued another time," Cyclone speaks, his tone clear, unwavering. Warlock shakes his head but gets up to leave anyway. Iceman follows after him, nodding a sort of good luck to his fellow Admiral before closing the door behind him. 

"Tell me what's wrong, kid," Cyclone is pulling back, his hands squeezing at her shoulders. Monsoon is rubbing at her cheeks, smearing her tears over the expanse of her face. It's the same ugly cry she had when they first met, and the connection make's Cyclone's heart twist. 

"I-" She starts, sentence interrupted by a hiccupping gasp, "Everything is falling apart," 

Monsoon tries to wipe at her face again with her hands, but Cyclone plunges a hand into his pocket only to offer her a green pocket hanky a second later. She takes it with unsteady fingers, her heart still thrumming a mile a minute. 

"Hangman and Rooster got in a fight in class. Jake said a shitty thing about my uncle Nicky, Goose, you know?" 

"Bradley shoved Jake, which isn't exactly a surprise, but then he told everyone that my family situation is all kinds of fucked up, which it is, but it's nobody else's business. God, Pops, I know now that I made a mistake when I started seeing Rooster while we were on deployment together, but God, that was five years ago! It's in the past!"

Cyclone nods at her, listening intently while trying to keep calm. So much new information is being thrown at him with each sentence that leaves her lips and it makes him angry. 

"Worst of all, though," Monsoon wipes at her nose with the hanky, "Maverick knows,"

"He knows?" 

"I told him," She confirms with a whimper and a nod, not daring to meet Cyclone's eyes. If she managed to meet them, she would have been met with nothing but rage boiling behind his irises, red hot flames behind the dark brown of his eyes. 

"I had to, everything was already coming out anyway," She laments. 

"What did he have to say for himself?" The question is asked through grit teeth as he pulls her body tighter against his, a move meant to feel protective but does nothing to quell the flames burning Cyclone from the inside out. All Monsoon can do is shake her head "no" as she sobs against the denseness of his chest. 

"I'm gonna kill him" is all Cyclone can think as he rests his chin against her hair. His jaw ticks as the flaming feeling overtakes his body. If he could, he would strip Maverick of every single one of his achievements, his medals, his rank. He would cut the older man down so far that he was nothing more than a civilian with a dishonorable discharge. 

But he can't.

So instead, he holds his daughter as she cries. He lets her tears soak the tan fabric of his uniform top, the buttons scraping against her skin. He rubs her back and whispers into her hair, promises that everything will be okay. 

---

Somewhere in the Pacific. The Uranium Mission. Three weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad. 

Moments after the Uranium mission is completed, the team piled on the aircraft carrier, all grateful to be alive. Monsoon and Hangman got sent up to shoot down the enemy aircraft, saving Maverick and Rooster. The whole thing left nothing but swirls of confusion and gratitude in Monsoon's heart. 

On one hand, she is so thankful that everyone made it back home. There will be no funerals, no folded flags and no Taps to be played. Instead there will be celebrations, beer and cheering and one too many speeches for a job well done. The whole thing should be liberating as their impending doom has been starved off for the time being, however there is still a feeling of anxiety sitting heaving in her chest.  

Now, Monsoon is stuck watching the pair climb out of the museum piece that they managed to land on the carrier. The wind is whipping past them as she watches the team embrace the two men. Her strangled feelings clog her chest as she makes her way into the fray, first approaching Bradley. 

"Glad to have you back on the ground," Monsoon shouts over the crowd.

"It's good to be back, even if it's not quite the ground," Bradley attempts to joke, "But seriously, we owe everything to you and Hangman," 

"Nobody left behind," Monsoon holds her hand out to Bradley, a gesture of good will. 

"Nobody left behind," Rooster echoes, taking her hand in his own. 

As they shake hands, a sort of understanding forms between them. They share a look, one that reads no hard feelings and Bradley almost tears up. Then, they are pulling back from each other, sharing one last smile. 

Monsoon watches Bradley disappear into the crowd, his tall frame quickly swallowed up by the sea of uniforms. She catches him shake hands with Hangman a moment later, the scene bringing a small smile to her lips. 

Then, Maverick catches her eye, standing a few yards away. There are tears shining in his eyes, but he makes no effort to move forward. They share eye contact for a moment as people move between them. Monsoon offers him a half smile, her brows lifted just slightly. Before Maverick can return it, she nods at him. He nods back, then it's his turn to watch her disappear into the crowd.

It's not quite an understanding, but maybe it's a truce.

At the risk of breaking her own heart, Monsoon chances a look over her shoulder. She watches as Maverick pulls Bradley into a hug, or maybe it's the other way around, it's hard to tell with the swarming of bodies. Either way, the pair wear bright smiles as they embrace and Monsoon doesn't even try to fight off the tears that make their way to her eyes. They aren't tears of anger, no, they are tears of gratitude. Grateful that they all get to live another day, grateful that Maverick and Bradley are giving each other a second chance, and grateful that there isn't a looming cloud hanging over her head anymore. 

She no longer has to wonder about her father, because now she knows he's exactly where he is supposed to be, and both of their lives are better for it. Instead, she has Cyclone, the best father she could have ever asked for, and that is more than enough. 

Cyclone breaks through the crowd, pulling his daughter into his arms, more than thankful for her safe return. He shouts at her, over the crowd, about how well she did and how happy he is that she made it back. The pair hold each other tight for another few moments, neither ready to let go. 

Maverick takes one more look at Monsoon, who's now folded into Cyclone's arms. It's an unfamiliar sight but not an unwelcomed one, for Maverick. One thing's for sure, she is exactly like her Pops- disciplined and talented in the cockpit of a jet. Even more, though, beyond being a good aviator, she is a good person and that's something that Maverick can't regret. 

---

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. One year after the completion of the Uranium Mission and the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A year later, Cyclone and Monsoon find themselves sitting in The Flight Line Bar, her hand thrust out in front of her, ring glittering under the amber lights. 

"You're going to give me away at my wedding, right?" There is a sort of apprehension to her voice as she sips on her beer. 

"It would be my honor, kid," Cyclone slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her sideways into him. He holds her there for a second before letting her sit back upright, a large smile on her lips. 

"Y/N Seresin has a good ring to it," Cyclone adds, bringing his beer up to his lips. 

"About that," Monsoon starts, causing the Admiral to set his beer down, "Jake and I had a conversation, and we thought that having two Aviators in the same squad with the same last name would get confusing, so it's going to be Y/N Simpson, if that's okay with you,"

The Admiral's eyes flood with tears before he can say a single word. They quickly spill down his cheeks and all he can do is look at his daughter, tears of her own overtaking her eyes. 

"I take that as a "yes"?" Monsoon chuckles, wiping her eyes with a shitty bar napkin. 

"Of course it's a yes, kid," Cyclone grabs her hand, holding it on top of the bar. 

The pair sit, hand in hand , tears still wet on their faces and all Cyclone can think about is how fucking lucky he got, how blessed his life is. He finally has a daughter who is happy and in love, a daughter that he will get to walk down the aisle on the most important day of her life. 

When he chances a glance over to her, Cyclone can see the frizz of her hair highlighted by the neon sign buzzing behind her, her cheeks bright red. For a moment, he can see June in the roundness of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Cyclone thinks back to all those years ago, when he and Monsoon first met sitting in this same bar, but he doesn't entertain the memory very long, after all, he has so much to look forward to. So instead, he squeezed her hand. 

"I love you, kid," Beau tells her earnestly, smiling though a few stray tears. 

"I love you too, Pops," Monsoon returns, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Now and always," 

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for blocking my suicidal friend?

TW for suicidal ideation, mental health.I know this sounds bad but hear me out.

I (25F/NB) met F(26M) in January 2017, a few months after I started university through a mutual friend, and we quickly hit it off. We started dating a few months later. We split near the end of 2021, but aside from a few awkward months right after the split, we've stayed friends. We've both seriously dated other people: F had a girlfriend, A(mid-20s F), for a little under a year, and I've been dating my boyfriend, H (30M), for about 9 months.

Throughout the time we were dating, F and I had a few problems. Money was a big one: he would borrow money a lot and not always pay it back (either when he said he would or at all). He currently owes me about £8000 that he borrowed for uni. For most of the time since he borrowed it he hasn't been in work, so I haven't been pushing the matter. One of the last straws for our relationship was when he bought a brand new PS5 and lied to me about it when he had recently borrowed money from me.

The other big one was his mental health. F has been dealing with poor mental health for about as long as I've known him, but he refuses to do anything about it. He often talks about how much he hates his life and how he should just kill himself. He often punched himself in the head or punched walls when he was upset, but he refused to admit that this behaviour was unhealthy. He wouldn't go see a therapist or doctor, or speak to anyone except me. Once, when I was visiting family, he became upset about something and I was worried he would hurt himself, so I asked a mutual friend to check on him. He refused to let the friend in, and got very angry with me.I wanted to break up with him sooner but he'd often tell me I was the only good thing in his life, and I was scared he'd kill himself if I left him. We eventually broke up near the end of 2021. Fast forward to this summer. In August, A broke up with F and F had to move back in with his abusive parents. He initially asked to stay with me but I said no (I live in a tiny flat, I can't afford to financially support another person and to be honest I'm just not comfortable with it). I later changed my mind and offered him my sofa when I realised how bad the abuse was, but he declined.

Also in August, I found out my grandmother was dying. I went to see her with my sister and brother-in-law, and the same day received a message from F venting about his life. I replied with: "Hey I'm kind of dealing with something right now can you talk to someone else? I don't really have the emotional bandwidth rn"When he asked what was up, I told him my grandmother was dying. He expressed his sympathies, and told me that his stuff could wait. He sent me the following message four hours later: "I think I'm going to kill myself""I've totally ruined my life, I've got nothing except daily torture from my parents". Again, this is four hours after I'd explicitly told him I don't have the capacity for it. I spoke to my sister and brother-in-law (28F and 30M) about it and they both said I should block him.

In September I started a new job (I recently qualified as a teacher) which has been very challenging, exhausting and intense. My grandmother died at the end of September, so the past few months have been hard for me. He knows all this, but he keeps sending me all these messages about how much he hates his life and how he should just kill himself.

Early October, I was added to a group chat between A, F's ex, and a mutual friend Z. A told us that F had sent her an email that was essentially a suicide note. I called F and made sure he was okay, and passed that along to the group chat. F was angry that, as he perceived it, we'd been talking about him behind his back. He didn't speak to me for a day or so but quickly went back to normal.

At the end of October, the day before my grandmother's funeral, I woke up to a message that was essentially a suicide note. This was not the first time this had happened. I had a panic attack, though I'm not sure whether that was due to the message or imminent funeral. I send him some messages saying that I didn't want to receive these kind of messages unless it was actually something I could help with, that he wasn't respecting my boundaries and that the friendship had become entirely one sided. I told him that I didn't want to block him but I would. He seemed to accept that, but this morning I woke up to another suicide note message. After verifying that he was still alive (he is), I started writing this ask. I feel bad, but I'm so tired of doing all the emotional labour. I have my own shit to deal with and i'm not his therapist. WIBTA if I blocked him?

What are these acronyms?