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thatlittlered · 4 months

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would've, could've, should've | aaron hotchner

warning(s): one whole curse word, smoking, stunning amount of fluff and a little bit of action

GIF by @littlecarmine

part one

part two

author's note: Sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it! I also want to thank the sweet anon for the ask with the Robert Siken poem, which I included here. Next part will be straight-up filthy smut, so stay tuned, fellow sluts.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

You don’t see much of each other for the next couple of days. Aaron is on autopilot, avoiding any chance to be alone with you. The rest of the team unknowingly act as a buffer and all he has to do is not look at you during work hours, keep the door to his office shut to not hear your laughter.

It’s a relief when you and Morgan are called to testify in court for a case. You’re somewhere far away for the day, where he knows you’re safe and he can go back to pretending nothing has changed.

The problems start when he’s not being kept busy.

How much paperwork can one person do?

The stars align oddly in his favor and he’s into calls or meetings until long after everyone else has gone home. When ten pm rolls around, he finally calls it quits but sees no point in leaving in a hurry. It’s past Jack’s bed time, it’d be cruel to wake him up now and carry him back home when tomorrow’s Sunday. If all goes well, he can pick him in the morning and they’ll get to spend the day together.

His finger is hovering over Jessica’s number when he spots your name in his call logs. It’s silly and childish, but he hasn’t thought of you in a couple of hours and God.

Deep down, he knows he’s been incredibly unfair to you. He had to. Had to tell himself it was something outside of him causing him torment. An obstacle to overcome, a distraction to ignore. He had to act as if you were forcing your way into his life in order to be able to put up walls, but what have you really done except exist near him? He is the one to blame for allowing it to grow beneath his skin; succumbing to his need for some sort of intimacy when he could have -should have- nipped this at the bud a very long time ago. He recognized it within himself the other day, when he realized he could have -should have- kissed you.

But nothing is healed with a kiss. Only new grievances arise.

It’s where you go from there that matters and he finds himself unable to guide or be guided.

Where do you go from here?

When he decides to feed his insomnia with a cup of late-night coffee, he is yet again reminded of you. So, he calls, but you don’t answer and he pours another, completely indifferent to the idea of sleep.

It’s getting too late to be here, even by his standards. He tries calling again, but, no answer. He gathers his stuff to leave and there is a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach when he settles inside the car. It’s only eleven and you always say you never sleep this early.

Another call, this time to Emily, who miraculously, picks up.

“Hello? Hotch?”

There is a deafening buzz in the background; loud voices and music blasting.

Aaron apologizes for the late hour and tries to be discreet when he asks about you. Says he needs to go over something about a case file but you won’t answer his calls and he got worried.

“Yeah, she’s fine, she’s right here with me, but it’s a little hard to get her right now. Is it urgent?”

“Uh, no, don’t bother her. Is everyone else there too?”

“Not everyone, just the two of us, Garcia and Morgan. Do you need them as well?”

You didn’t invite him, why would you? He would have never said yes.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sir, I can’t make out much with all this noise. We’re at the ‘Matter’ if you need us. I’ll tell the guys to call you as soon as they can, okay? Have a good night.”

So, he drives two miles a little before midnight to come sit outside ‘Matter’, which is apparently a very busy nightclub downtown, half a mile away from the nearest parking spot he could find.

He doesn’t really know why he came.

He can’t come in and join you. Can’t ask for you.

They probably wouldn’t even let him in while dressed like this.

It’s very unclear what the next step is.

He knows it’s pointless to call you again when you’re probably too busy dancing and drinking with a great many people who are not him. Morgan has some trouble keeping his hands to himself when he drinks.

He sits on the curb of the street, cracks open the pack of cigarettes he snack out of the car’s glove compartment, always hidden below the insurance papers. Astoundingly loud music plays every time the doors to the club open and people come out stumbling, kissing sloppily and dragging each other away.

He just wants to see you and put this horrible feeling inside him to rest.

“No fucking way.”

He jolts at the sound of your voice and throws away the cigarette, putting it out with his shoe before he turns to see you standing outside the club. You approach timidly until you can be sure it’s him and when you step closer to the streetlight, he can really see you. The clothes you could never wear to work, the shoes you apparently spend all your money on. You’re beautiful.

He can’t possibly move until you’re sat beside him. For the first time in what seems like forever, now that he’s grown so used to it, you keep a very respectable distance between your bodies.

“You didn’t have to throw it away; I already saw you and,” you pick up the abandoned carton from the sidewalk and almost laugh at how immaculate it looks just having been opened, ��I have so many questions. Since when do you smoke?”

His voice is quiet, unamused.

“Almost never.”

You look at him curiously and he thinks you would make a great interrogator simply by the way you make everyone around you spill their souls out if it will satisfy you.

“Sometimes when I’m very stressed.”

You hum, “I never would have guessed that.”

He laughs to himself and looks at his hands.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of things that are not typical of me lately.”

You help yourself to a cigarette and he cups his hand over yours when the breeze makes it too hard to light up.

“Is that because of me? Am I a bad influence?”

“No. It’s me, I’m the common denominator.”

You hum again and smile at him teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Breakthrough.”

“So, this is what therapy is like?”

He wants to thank you, for always trying to make things as easy as possible for him. You open the door and difficult as it may seem, all he really has to do is walk through it.

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t smoke in session.”

“Oh good.”

You’re sitting closer again and Aaron doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think either of you moved. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, glances at you only from the corner of his eye. Your perfume mingles with the smoke of the cigarette and it’s all a haze to him.

“Why are you not inside?”

“I needed a breath; it was very loud and packed in there… and I finally saw your calls.”

He hums, unable to find anything else to say.

“Why are you here?

“I don’t know.”

He knows that is not a good enough of an answer.

“I always have this terrible feeling that something is going to happen to you.”

Your shoulder touches his and he can admire the smoothness of it, focus on each mark there to avoid the dreaded eye contact.

“Do you think that fear is reasonable, or is it rooted in something else?’

His eyes shut tightly, “Don’t do that, please. Don’t talk to me like I’m a subject.”

“You use your ‘agent tone’ all the time outside of work.”

His voice deepens, “I am aware.”

Heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry I did all that and then backed out at the last minute.”

“It’s alright. I think I knew you would.”

“See, that’s even worse.”

You look at his suit, the wrinkles that have formed in the shirt underneath from the hours of wear.

“Did you come here straight from the office?”

A sigh, “Yeah.”

You nod your head in understanding and move to put out what’s left of the cigarette.

“I’m alright. I’ve got the others too; they’ll take me home. You can relax now.”

“I don’t think I ever can.”

You don’t know what to say really. If what he needs is time, you can give it, but he seems undecided as well when he picks up your hand.

“I think I’m scared of what will happen once the line is crossed.”

A confession.

That, you did not expect.

“Aside from the complications at work, I just,” his hand rubs gently on the spot your watch has left its mark, “I have proved time and time again that I can’t handle any relationship beyond professionalism and once we stop being just colleagues, I will lose you completely from my life.”

“Do you think that line has not been crossed already?”

He laughs quietly.

You can both feel the bouncer looking at you and Aaron is suddenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now.

“I guess it has.”

You’re both quiet for a little while.

“I have to go back inside now, or they’ll start getting worried.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but no words leave his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them you were here.”

That hurt. You know it, but what else was there to say?

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll know.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before you leave and he’s left staring while you go back inside.

-.-.-

A little past two, the girls drop you off in a shared cub before going their separate ways and you rush to your apartment building, only to find Aaron waiting there.

“Well, you certainly have a thing for sitting on curbs.”

He looks tired, so tired, and alone in the empty street. It’s very hard to maintain your position when he always looks this beaten down in his most tender moments. You wish to care for him, love him back into happiness but that wouldn’t be fair.

Still, you can’t help but go to him and he is relieved that you sit closer this time.

“Have you been waiting here this whole time?”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

You softly take his right hand to look at his watch. His body relaxes at the touch.

“Huh.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, but I’m a little more drunk than the last time you saw me.”

Your skin glows under the soft moonlight and he notices.

It is technically tomorrow now.

“How drunk?”

His face moves closer and you can’t help but shiver at the sudden change. His breath is warm on your face. The words come out in a whisper.

“Not that much.”

That’s all it takes.

His lips press against yours once… then twice and then… he doesn’t stop.

You always thought he’d be one to kiss carefully and with absolute purpose, just like he does everything else, but he kisses like a man on fire. He seeks to quench something deep inside of him and you provide happily. The remnants of your lip gloss tingle on his mouth, as if kissing you alone is not enough of an awakening.

It’s becoming increasingly hard to keep up with breathing when he envelops you so, and cages you in the pleasant whirl of his scent. When you break away for breath, he’s quick to capture you once more. His hands come to your face to keep you there until he’s had enough, but how he can he ever have enough of you?

He only lets you go because he has to. You’re both practically panting and he can’t decide what to do. He wants to kiss you, look at you, touch you, but it cannot all be done at once. When your own hand comes to his face just below his jawline, he melts under the touch. His eyes are sunken, his body is begging for rest, but it would not come without you.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

His voice is low and breathy when he nods.

“Yeah…”

-.-.-

You walk upstairs, hand in hand, and Aaron can see your own exhaustion is taking over. Something started with that first touch. Your bodies wish only to find comfort near each other.

His breath is warm on your neck while you open the door, his hands softly placed on your waist with the excuse of keeping you steady. When you move to take off your shoes, he is behind you again, as if tied to you with invisible thread, and holds you gently by the elbow when he sees you struggling.

You’re suddenly very aware he is in your house again. Touching you.

“Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head no, but you’re too focused on the way his hand moves languidly up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

He is so caring. So soft below the austere guise.

“I just need to take a shower,” you almost stumble backward and he thinks it’s the alcohol, but it might just be the feeling of his hands on your face, “I must have fifty different people’s sweat on me right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

His voice is soft – tired.

You turn on the lights for him in the living room and he gives a half-smile when you check on him again.

“I won’t be long.”

Once left alone, he gets to look around your house. He sees your carefully assorted nick-knacks and smiles at the framed pictures all over your bookshelves. He can’t help but notice you’ve chosen one, if not the only, photo of the team that he’s also part of.

He is important to you too.

He can see you in every corner of the room, in the books you buy and the realistic-looking-but-admittedly-fake plants sprinkled here and there for a lack of time to take care of any real ones. He can even see you in the soft material of the couch when he sits and lets his cheek touch the fabric. He has been here before in a dream, with your head in his lap.

The room is awfully quiet save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of running water in the background. For a man that’s usually so good at sitting alone with his thoughts, he suddenly can’t stand it.

He knocks gently on the bathroom door and opens it slowly, only to be hit with the dizzying cloud of warm steam. Your head peeks behind the shower curtain and he can tell you got tired of standing and sat in the tub instead.

“Is it okay if I sit in here with you?”

You thought he’d sit on the toilet seat, but he crawls to the edge of the tub and sits on the bathmat with his back to you.

How close is close enough?

Now that he’s ventured, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied.

So, he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the, now warm, porcelain.

“Aaron.”

He doesn’t know if he actually fell asleep, but the water is now turned off and you’re looking at him. He realizes now, for the first time, that you’re naked behind him. Your hair and eyelashes are angelically wet, the sheen of water on your flushed skin is divine. He knows that you’d be warm if he touched you now.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

You smile at him -siren- and your hand grabs a handful of his shirt, staining it with water that reaches his body underneath and makes him shiver. You kiss him with plump wet lips and he reaches for you. His hand entangles in your hair until you’re both practically pulling at each other.

A less enamored man would have broken away just to sneak a peek at your bare skin, but he won’t. He is respectful even now, even like this.

“I should have kissed you the other day. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

It’s a whisper when his mouth leaves yours, but you catch it.

You hum, eyes glossy, “Would've, could've, should’ve.”

What matters is now.

He kisses you again – just one more time. You both feel like giddy, lovesick children.

“Can you hand me my bathrobe?”

The bathrobe is also impossibly soft to the touch and when you emerge clad in it, he thinks he’d like to hold you. The spell of the warm steam is broken outside, however, and being so close to your naked body suddenly becomes very serious.

You let him sit in your bed, still fully clothed, save for his suit jacket, and he closes his eyes again. The comforter underneath is lovely.

Is everything in this house soft?

Is this what it feels like to be loved by you?

You disappear inside the walk-in closet and reappear, now properly dressed in your pajamas. The bed dips when you sit next to him and he turns to you completely.

“I have a T-shirt you can sleep in, don’t know about pants though.”

Please. Just be here, with him.

He watches you leave, but it’s not long before you return with the aforementioned shirt. You laugh when he finally realizes he’ll have to sleep in his boxers.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you.”

He throws a teasing look, but can’t possibly come up with a clever answer right now.

“I’ll go dry my hair and you can get dressed, alright?”

You are so gentle with your guidance that it makes him feel like a helpless child, but there’s a hidden relief at that. It’s nice; being cared for like this and there is something to be said about parallels, with you going now to do as you had done a week and a half ago in a Florida hotel and him waiting for you – on your bed.

It’s the same, but it’s different.

He hangs his work clothes carefully on the chair in the corner of your room and goes to sit on the bed, but feels too uncomfortable to climb under the covers. He knows you’d find his duality funny; how he goes from hungrily kissing you to being too embarrassed to join you in bed, even if it’s only for sleep.

You notice his stiffness when you come back in the room, but don’t say anything. It’s not exactly easy for you either, you’re just better at hiding it than he is. You choose to lead by example instead and turn off the lights before reaching for the one on your nightstand and climbing inside your bedding.

He only speaks to deflect attention from him again, “You have a TV in your room.”

“Jealous?”

He turns to look at you and you’re perched up on the plump pillows, smiling at him. Your hand reaches for his own over the comforter and you gently pull him to you.

He comes, of course.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He joins you with his back on the pillows and his shoulder touching yours, but he’s still too stiff.

“What do you watch?”

“Mostly reruns of sitcoms-,” he laughs at that, “-Seinfeld.”

“Isn’t that show a thousand years old?

“You would know.”

He laughs again and you can almost make out a wounded pout on his face, but a kiss is enough of a cure. His shoulders relax and he gives in to the warmth and softness; be it the bed or you next to him. You can tell he’s barely managing to stay awake, but he still can’t let go completely. His head slumps backward again.

“Can we turn it on?”

You find the courage to caress his hair, admiring the softness of it and the discreet sprinkle of grey that you can only see up close.

“If you want.”

The quiet humming of the television and your breath in his ear, putting his mind to ease, are enough for him to finally sleep and you’re not long behind. His head is turned to the side where you are, hand tightly holding yours.

Later in the night, when you stir in your sleep, he pulls you further into him – wraps his arm around you completely and doesn’t let go.

next part

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #thomas gibson

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gh0stsp1d3r · 7 months

Note

Hiii!! I was wondering if you could do a Luke x f.reader who is a daughter of Hephaestus and basically she’s jealous of the the Aphrodite girls and how Luke seems to take a liking to one of them, and so f.reader tries to change herself a bit to get Luke to notice her but instead one of Apollo son’s does and luke gets jealous. 🫣👀

𝒴ℴ𝓊’𝓇ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒽ℯ𝓇

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

I made this longer than it had to be. 😭 so sorry.

Warnings: jealousy, some angst

You watched him pass by. Your best friend, the boy you’ve had a crush on since you saw him at the camp years ago. When he was just a small, scared, confused little boy.

Usually, he would give you a smile and sit with you. Not today. He was talking with one of the other counselors, one of the Aphrodite girls.

The Aphrodite girls. Most of them were kind, loving. They were beautiful. And you were stuck forging swords, which you loved. But you felt a pang in your heart as you watched him sit down with her instead. She laughed with him about Gods know what.

You stared at them from afar, eating your food as your friends and siblings talked amongst themselves. You would get his attention again. You were determined to.

You watched over the younger campers, watching them as they hammered and drilled. Your arms were folded, calling out some people and helping them, correcting them.

“It’s good. But it’s dull. Make it less curved , and sharper.” You spoke when one of them handed you a sword they had made. You smiled at them and they nodded, wiping the sweat from their forehead and going back to their station.

“Hey.” Someone said from behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder making you jump slightly. You whipped around, your eyes meeting those brown ones that you knew too well.

“Hi.” You replied, swallowing the lump in your throat and turning back to the kids, facing away from him. The Aphrodite girl.

“Are you alright..?” He asked you, noticing how you seemed off.

“I’m fine.” You said simply, his hand left your shoulder and he frowned.

“I was just wondering if tomorrow you wanted to go to that party at the lake with me. Like… 6?”

You smiled to yourself, covering your face so he couldn’t see and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’ll see you later.” He said, a small smile on his own face as he walked away.

Your sibling came up to you, a smirk on her face. “If you don’t just ask him out already…”

“Shut up.” You playfully hit her in the arm, rolling your eyes at the girl.

After watching the kids, you took a shower, and sighed as you flopped down onto your bed, tired from the day. It was dark out, and late.

You fell asleep quickly, and woke up to your sibling shouting something in your face.

“What? What’s wrong?” You grumbled, turning to the side and shutting your eyes again.

“Wake up! You’re gonna be late.”

“Late for what?”

“You’re checking the cabins today, with Luke, remember?”

“Oh. Shit,” you mumbled, sitting up and stretching. You got up, put on some baggier clothes when you had a thought.

That Aphrodite girl.

You would be with Luke for about an hour, why not try to make yourself look presentable? You thought.

You did your hair, brushed your teeth, then grabbing some moisturizer and putting it on your face. You put mascara on, even grabbed a thing of lip gloss, putting it in on and then in your pocket.

You changed your clothes, taking off your hoodie and putting your camp half blood shirt, which you were supposed to have on while checking the rooms.

You looked through your closet, and ended up with a pair of flared jeans instead of the baggy cargos you usually wore when you were with the kids at the work station. You put on a pair of boots that matched and you looked at yourself in a dirty mirror.

You shrugged, and left the cabin. You would be able to show off more, at the party.

You grabbed your clipboard and paper, going up to Luke now.

“You’re late. I already checked mines and Athena’s.”

“Oh yeah? Did yours get a 4 again?” You joked.

“No… we got a 5.” He said. “Which still isn’t good but…”

“That’s shocking.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. He noticed something different about you. He looked closely at your face as you both walked to the other cabin.

“Are you… wearing mascara?” He said after realizing it. Your pants were different too. He noticed it all.

“Yeah… why?”

“Nothing. Just never seen you do that.” Something was wrong, he knew it. Something in his chest says that something was wrong. You’d told him once you don’t wear that much because your face gets dirty anyways, after forging and even just watching over them.

You shrugged and you both acted like nothing was wrong. Then after a while of checking it was time to head to the Aphrodite ones, the last cabin.

You tensed, and of course, Luke being the most observant, noticed when he looked at you. He put a hand on your shoulder, not knowing what was wrong but trying to bring some comfort anyways.

“Okay.” He breathed out, knocking on the door. All the Aphrodite girls were on their beds, waiting patiently. It was perfect, nothing spilled or a clutter.

The girl you saw Luke with yesterday waved to him. He waved back, giving a small smile. You tried to ignore the tears that started welling in your eyes.

Why were you so jealous?

“It’s a 10.” You spoke up, voice cracking slightly.

He nodded in agreement. You just left the cabin in a rush, you ignored everyone around you as you headed to your cabin.

Why couldn’t he look at you instead?

You took off your camp shirt, looking through your side in the closet once more. Nothing. There was nothing that could catch his attention in there. It was all dirtied, old, worn-out t-shirts. The party was soon.

"You need help?" Thank the Gods for your sisters.

They all got the best shirts they had. Crop tops, tank tops, baby tees, all of it. The boys ignored it, sitting on their beds and talking.

One that caught your eye was a pink cropped long sleeved shirt, it hugged your body when you put it on, showing your curves. The girls squealed when you came out, they all complimented you.

"I have the best mini skirt for that." One of them said, you quirked an eyebrow.

She handed it to you, and you went back into the bathroom.

"It's adorable!" she said.

It wasn't you, though. It didn't feel right. You just put on a smile as you headed outside.

"I'll kill him if he does anything." One of your brothers mumbled under his breath.

"Stop being overprotective, Alex." One of your siblings rolled her eyes.

It felt odd walking out like that, but you held your head high. Luke was going to walk past, thinking you were just one of the aphrodite girls until he saw your face.

"Y/N?" he asked, he was shocked.

"The one and only." You stopped walking, he stood in front of you.

"You look..."

You were nervous to hear his next words.

"different."

You just nodded. "It's a party, Castellan.

"Sorry. Just not used to it. Shall we go, madam?" he asked, faking a posh accent at the last sentence, his arm extended.

"We shall." You said with the same accent, smile on your face, locking your arm with his as you both walked to the lake.

About an hour or two later you were standing by the lake, your feet dipping into the water as you stared out. He had been talking with the Aphrodite girl again.

Why not you?

You didn’t hear the Apollo kid behind you until he sat next to you, two drinks in his hand.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hi.” Not turning to look at him.

“I was just over there, and I thought you were really… gorgeous.” He said, looking you up and down. “Would you want this?” He asked, handing you a drink. You hesitated but took it.

But he’s not Luke.

You turned now to give him a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“What’s your name?”

You told him your name and he told you his.

“Oscar. After Oscar Wilde.” He said, a small laugh escaping him. You smiled and nodded.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

“I was with a friend but…” you shrugged.

It was soon that Luke had overheard a conversation with some of Oscar’s friends.

“Nah, he’s not here, he’s trying to take some girl to his cabin. Think her name is like, y/n? Some Hephaestus girl.”

Luke glanced over there when he heard that. You were talking with the boy. Oh he was going to kill this guy.

He walked over, fuming as he neared him.

“Luke?” You asked, furrowing an eyebrow as he walked over. Oscar turned around too now, his face flushed as he realized Luke was coming for him.

Luke grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, whispering something in his ear as you tried to get him off.

“Don’t ever come near her again.” Is what he said, dropping him onto the floor, he ran away and back to his friends. Everyone was watching you guys now.

“What?” Luke shouted to them. They quickly turned around.

“Luke, what the hell was that for?!”

“He was trying to…” he began to speak, his anger faded off once he saw the look on your face.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, not sure what else to say.

“Luke, what is wrong?” You asked him. “Did I do something?” Your voice cracked, your eyes welling up again. His own eyes were glossy now.

“No. You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why do you keep leaving me for that Aphrodite girl?”

The truth comes out. He stares at you, confused for a moment.

“Aphrodesia?”

You nodded.

“I… is that why you…?”

“Yes! Luke…”

“I was hanging out with her because I had no clue how to ask you out.” He said with his voice slightly raised, you stood there, feeling guilty.

“Oh.”

“She was telling me how to, giving me ideas. But now I see that I should have just asked.” His words were quiet now.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“I’m sorry. And the reason for.. that whole thing.” He motioned to the party. “Was that I got jealous. I got jealous, and then I overheard some of his friends saying how he was planning on taking you back to his cabin.”

“I guess we both got jealous.” You said with a small laugh, he smiled and nodded.

“Can I still go out with you?”

You nodded with a smile. “I’d like that.”

—

“You did look gorgeous tonight.” He told you as he walked you back to your cabin. “But I like you no matter what you wear. You’re gorgeous either way.”

“Thank you.” You said, laughing. “It did feel kind of weird. I don’t think I like it.” You were now in front of your cabin, holding his hand in yours.

You both gazed into each others eyes, when he suddenly spoke up.

“Can I kiss you?”

You were shocked by his question. You didn’t answer and he began to apologize before you cut him off, crashing your lips into his. His hands went straight to your waist.

“You wanna know something?” He asked once your lips left his, voice a whisper.

“Hmm..?” You whispered back.

“You’re better than any of the Aphrodite kids.”

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #pjo disney+#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

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cry4mina · 4 months

Text

What You Need

(Pole!Dancing Momo x fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.4K

Light Angst/Smut

Summary: Momo has been locked in her studio for a week and a half despite your want for her attention. Little do you know, she’s been preparing a surprise for you.

TW: THIS IS MOSTLY FUCKING! Pole dancing, stripping, praise kink, Momo is a bottom (whaaaaaat), face fucking, fingering, and I’m unsure if i missed anything so just be aware of the sex.

A/N: The brain rot was real yall. A thank u to the secret contributor whomst helped me articulate words lmao anyway, DMs and asks are always open! Pls drink water and have a lovely day!

—

A long sigh leaves your lips while you lay down on the couch and scroll through your phone, switching between the same three apps before you huff again. You’re at home and so is Momo but she’s locked herself in her studio…again. Just like she had for the last week and a half.

Rolling over to one side and opening your messages, only to stare at the one you sent Momo an hour beforehand.

You: I miss you [9:45pm]

You: Can you come upstairs soon? :( [9:45pm]

Of course she didn’t reply. Scoffing in annoyance, you stand. Making your way to your shared bedroom and stripping down to just underwear on the way. Throwing your clothes in the laundry hamper, you stare into space. Bringing your hand up for a moment to wipe the sleep out of your eye momentarily.

It had been 3 hours since you’d seen her. Coming home in a whirlwind, throwing all her stuff to the ground before she kissed you and sped off to the basement studio. With no response to your previous message, you decide to send another.

You: I’m going to bed…let me know when you have time for me, I guess. [10:46pm]

A little passive aggressive for you, sure, but she knew how you’d been feeling. A conversation was had a few days ago about how you felt like she had been held up in the studio and not really spending time with you outside of coming to bed at 3am only to wake up at 8am and leave for her schedule. She said she understood and assured you it would all be worth it in the end…but you missed her.

Slipping into one of her oversized shirts that smelled like her with only panties on underneath, you wash your face and brush your teeth when your phone vibrates on the counter.

Mo: Please don’t go to sleep yet! [10:51pm]

Mo: I have something I want to show you! [10:51pm]

Mo: Give me 10 minutes and then come down to the studio, okay? I love you. [10:52pm]

Spitting the sweet minty toothpaste out and rolling your eyes, you start your skin care routine. Washing your face, dabbing on serums, the whole nine before you head through the living room. Passing the kitchen and head down the steps to the door of the soundproof room added on to the original house after purchase.

This wasn’t a space you ever felt like was yours so you rarely went inside. You remember her having it built into the house before you both moved in together. Only having seen it one time, to view the finished product all decorated and sparkling new.

Momo, of course, stayed with you when the construction workers were in and out of her house for the better part of 4 months. Sleeping in the same bed every night, cooking dinner together, date nights more frequently, having the dogs around, it was all such a dream that strengthened the already strong relationship.

The day the room passed inspection, she took the dogs and went home, worried about being in your space for that long. Not wanting to be a bother. She was always so kind and respectful but the silence of the house without their presence didn’t feel right. Momo called you right as you went to call her that night.

“Hey, uhm…I know it’s late but…I can’t fall asleep…the bed seems too…”

“Empty?”

“You feel it too?…Hey, would you- uhm… Do you want to com-”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” interrupting the sentence before she could finish, beaming at the thought of sleeping next to her another night.

She asked you the next morning while you were tangled in the sheets, cuddling, if you wanted to move in together. You agreed with no hesitation.

Nothing compared to waking up to her everyday. You were missing that part the most as you reminisce on the memories. Sure, it hadn't been that long of a time, but the person who couldn’t fall asleep without you (and the person you couldn’t sleep without) was apparently too wrapped up in whatever was in that studio to be bothered to come to bed. Or hang out on the couch. Or spend any quality time with you.

Even with this, you respected her space. Trying not to be intrusive with her busyness and not going into the studio unless you were invited.

A little intimidated by the unfamiliarity of the room, you turn the knob and quietly take a step before closing the door lightly behind you. The walls are covered in white sheets, opening the space up, with the exception of a few mirrors that were strategically placed along the curtains.

Oak hardwood flooring really brought the brightness of the room together. A small couch and a chair sitting right in front of a silver pole that is bolted into the ground and ceiling beam.

Oh.

Blush covers your cheeks when you realize the purpose of that pole. Walking over to it and grabbing with your hand, you swing around on it, trying to hold your weight up to see how many times you can spin.

A small giggle can be heard through the sheets as Momo reveals herself from behind the curtain. Momo always admired your playfulness. Being able to match her energy was one of the many reasons she fell in love with you in the first place.

You hear the sound of heels against the flooring when you stop yourself from using the pole as a jungle gym, whipping your head towards the noise to see your loving girlfriend…in black thigh high pleasures with clear heels and soles and a black lace lingerie set you had never seen before.

Breath leaves your lungs immediately, you can’t help but gawk at her. Almost drooling, taking in her figure, eyes tracing every single part of her frame, up and then down and back up again. Forgetting to blink completely, absolutely overwhelmed with lust.

Momo smirks at you, running her hands through her hair and letting it fall back into place, slightly lifting her head to expose her neck a little more causing even more of a reaction between your legs.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Sashaying towards you, hips fully swinging as she approaches. She wraps her arms strategically on your torso, pressing her body into you. Melting together seamlessly even with the drastic height difference, your hands around the back of her neck when she leans down into you, bringing her lips close to your ear.

“So, you just want some quality time then?” muttered through the tension created in mere seconds. The act sends the warmest chill down your spine and a trickle of neediness onto the fabric of your underwear.

Nodding your head softly and biting your lower lip, any frustration you had disappeared in that moment with the way she guided you back towards the chair. Using her legs to ease you backwards, still holding onto your waist before gently pushing you into the seat she placed right in front of her stage.

Eye level with her waistband, you stare shamelessly at her abs, leaning into press your lips lightly on her stomach while looking up at her, eye dilating as you feel the goosebumps on her skin rise and her breath to cease.

A long exhale and a shutter as she lays her palm flat on your chest, pushing you back against the chair hard enough for the front legs of it to lift a few centimeters off the ground. A warning to let her continue with her plan.

She towers over you, hair framing her face casting the most delicate shadows. She unlocks her phone, swiping up and tapping a few times before tossing it onto the couch that’s against the back wall of the room.

The lights dim and music played low enough to hear the sound of her heels clicking against the wood. The song was hazy, alluring, and unfamiliar, not that you paid any mind to it at all. You are focusing solely on Hirai Momo, who is preparing to give you the show of a lifetime.

Your show.

All for you.

Momo takes a few languid steps around the pole, circling it enough to gain a little momentum before lifting herself up and using her weight to rotate the pole, showing off a variety of different poses as she watches your reactions, giggling at the way you gripped the arms of the chair in desperation.

Pulling herself up and holding onto the metal with her thighs and a single hand, she spins slowly while leaning back, letting her fingers trail between her tits. She falls into her well practiced routine. Her grace and agility intertwining and creating this seductively sensual display of pure strength had you absolutely weak.

Of course, you were very familiar with her body, but you had no idea that this was something she even had interest in utilizing all that muscle for.

A surprise indeed.

Your soft, fluffy, bottom girlfriend was using her body to dance for you in a way you never thought she would. Swinging herself in a way so calculated and so suggestive that it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.

It’s almost as if she’s grinding against the pole to taunt you. You’re staring at her attentively, burning holes into her flesh with every second your eyes lay on her. Dripping and clenching around nothing, shifting yourself in your seat to grind down a little and feel some form of stimulation.

The temperature rises within you, leaning back into the chair again to watch your girlfriend closely and see every muscle shifting and flexing. Her arms tensing through her movements makes your mouth and pussy drool for her in tandem.

Momo makes eye contact with you while upside down, legs holding her up on the pole. She slides down quickly, stopping herself before she hits the floor. Momo pulls herself up, swinging her legs around, you hear her knees clammer against the hardwood.

Breath hitching at the intimate display, clenching around nothing as she crawls towards you. So many filthy, vile thoughts race through your mind as her hands slither up your thighs, tracing the hem of your underwear, just to tease.

Gulping harshly as she uses your thighs to lift herself into a standing position. She places a finger under your chin and lifts it so your eyes connect again, lust blown eyes seer your vision. Canceling out everything but her.

Momo leans down teasingly close to your lips. Mouth chasing after hers in an attempt to meld together in an act of desperation. She’s sure to pull away but continues to stay close enough to keep you in her grasp. That devilish smirk paints itself on her face before she turns around, exposing her bare ass to you through her thong.

Oh, fuck.

Momo lowers herself onto your lap, slowly rolling her hips to the rhythm of the song. Your hands have a mind of their own, traveling up to her hips, taking in the texture of the lace and how it hugged her skin so perfectly.

A soft moan can be heard over the song playing. Momo’s hands fly to the thin arms of the chair to keep her level, rutting her hips a little harder onto you.

She lifts herself off you slowly, turning around to place her hands on the arms of the chair again, leaning over you as her arms squeeze her breast together with a very specific intention in mind.

Momo strategically places one of her legs between your knees before you go to cross them. She knew you'd have a hard time keeping still through her choreography. She wanted your face covered desperation and you dripping out of pure need for her touch. Completely at her mercy.

“You should take these off” hooking her fingers into your waistband to let you know it wasn’t a request. Sliding your underwear off hastily, tossing them out of view and finally connecting your lips.

Hungrily reaching out for her, practically losing yourself in her, your movements mirror each other's passion. Lips fused together, erratically fumbling through the open mouthed kissing and steamy lap dance.

Momo tries to kneel down in front of you, catching her before her knee can hit the ground and tugging her thong down to her ankles.

“I was enjoying that lap dance…” purred into her mouth.

“Maybe you should…keep going”

She kicks off her underwear and straddles your thigh letting you feel how much she wanted this. How much she wanted you.

This might have been her stage, but this was your show.

Her hands creep around your shoulders, pulling you tightly into her chest. The familiar scent of peaches and vanilla slowly eases any unwelcome tension. Your hands are on her hips when you pull her closer. Dragging her wet pussy across your thigh as you flex and coerce a groan from her.

“What was that?” teasingly inquiring, pushing her back just to slide her forward again. This time, a little rougher than before.

Momo clutches herself to you, resting her head on your shoulder while you set the pace for her to continue on. She whimpers into you, continuing to rut her hips on you while you mess with the clasp attached to her bra, undoing it quickly to expose her chest.

“Fuck, please…” whispered, removing the last of her lace leaving her in only those black thigh high pleasers.

Laying perfectly placed kisses down her neck until you reach her chest, taking one of her nipples in your mouth, rolling it around and flicking it with your tongue. Being unable to remove your hands from her, sliding one around her lower back and the other reaching for the boob that has had no attention, completely immersing her in your touch.

Music still haunts the background as Momo’s slick saturates your thigh, feeling it drip down the sides of your leg makes the knot in your stomach build. You wanted her so badly, you needed her, and craved the closeness she was finally giving to after what felt like years.

Removing your mouth from her nipple with a pop and ravenously bringing your lips up to hers, returning to the deep depths of lust that both of you were submerged in.

Scooting her backwards off your knee, you place a hand on her inner thigh, giving her the signal to spread her legs apart enough to straddle you. Lips never parting each other, tongues still intertwined through the waltz done out of pure need.

Her hand weaves through your hair on the back of your head, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip before playfully tugging on it and letting go. The pressure of her teeth causes you to moan, cunt dripping onto the chair the heated moment was taking place in.

“How badly do you want it, baby?” Momo’s hips buck at the question, you already know the answer but watching her squirm and beg for it was a delicacy on its own.

“Please…I need you. Please. Touch me.” desperately whimpered between her ragged breathing.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” You’re trying to play it off collected, even with a flushed face and the light movement of your own hips against hers.

Running your hands up her thighs, she leans into you exposing her neck. A silent ask. Open mouth kisses trailed up from her collar bone to her jaw. She’s panting at the gliding of your hands, up and down her thighs in deliberately slow, steady movements. Allowing your hands to dip between her legs and graze over her cunt.

An intense gasp is let out from her perfectly plump lips.

“There! Touch me there. Please, baby…I- I need to f- fuck -feel you”

“Good girl. You’re always so perfect for me.” a drop of her slick falling onto the chair into the puddle of your own as your hand approached her core.

Middling finger sliding up and down her absolutely soaked slit, just to tease her. Being sure to put the slightest pressure on her entrance and eliciting the most vile sound from her. She immediately tries to slam herself down on your fingers.

“Inside…I need you inside…fuck, baby, please!” her hands grip your face, fingers tightening around your lower jaw. Panting as she forces eye contact.

“Look at what you do to me, darling…oh, fuck” losing the grip on your chin and letting her hand trail down your chest, tugging in the sweater chasing your hand with her hips.

“Can’t you feel how much I want you?” mouths connecting passionately through the begary displayed.

Momo’s nails dig into your shoulders through the fabric of her stolen sweater when your teeth find her neck, biting down and entering soaking pussy with a single finger. Palm against her clit so she has something to grind into as you curl your fingers up, hitting her g-spot perfectly.

“Fuck…f- feels so g-good…need -oh my god- more…” jerking her hips to get more stimulation.

Pulling out momentarily to add another finger, she grabs your shoulders harder, using your palm to accentuate the build up of her orgasm.

Bites and hickeys lay across her chest which is heaving unevenly, spilling grunts and groans at the touch of your finger tips. Wetness coats your entire hand, continuing to thrust into her while using your hips as leverage to hit just a little deeper into her.

“I’m gonna cum! -Fuck, please-...c- can I cum?” Panted through her whines. She starts losing control of her movements, attempting to keep herself off the edge until you say that it’s time for her to release.

“Princess, you want to cum?” whispered softly to her, slowing your strokes with each word stated.

“And what if I’m not done with you?” removing your hand from inside of her.

Lifting her while holding her thighs, she crosses her legs around you. Making out while you turn, placing her down lovingly in the chair that she had originally set up for you. kneeling down in front of her.

Momo is half awestruck and half feral when she sees you rip her sweater off you, leaving you both completely naked. You yank her to the edge of the seat and bury your fingers deep inside her cunt again with no warning.

Moaning into the air, lifting her legs on your shoulders, the latex grips against your skin, almost anchoring her in place. Your mouth travels up her thighs with soft gentle pecks and light bites. Momo’s inner thighs coated in the dew drops of yearning, humming into the love bites as your tongue dances to sample her flavor before devouring her.

One long lick up her pussy before immediately attacking her clit. Her hands fly up and grip your hair, the overstimulation causing sweet moans and curses to reverberate off the walls.

“Right there right there right there, please -fuck- oh my god” her hips gyrating into your mouth, the neediness becoming more aggressive, returning to the edge of ecstasy.

“Tell me, princess. Does my good girl want to cum for me?.” Locking you into place with her legs and pulling you closer to her.

“Please, fuck, right fucking there unghh” the wet squelching sounds her pussy was making for you had you close to cumming untouched, knot tighten at every pump into her.

Her body tenses underneath you, grip tightening in your hair while she writhes under your touch. Unwilling to let go of her, you keep curling your fingers and refuse to stop your tongue from spiraling around her now very sensitive clit.

Momo’s face is beat red, hair sticking to her neck and forehead and panting in patterns that mimic hyperventilation. She pushes your forehead from her before finally relaxing her body into the chair.

A smile creeps across your face, being sure she’s watching you lick the remnants of her cum off your fingers. You shimmy her legs off your shoulders and the sound her heels hitting the floor almost startles her out of her post-orgasm haze.

“You’re such a good girl for me, baby.” lovingly placing a hand on her cheek before standing and taking a step towards where the pile of clothes was. A tightness encompasses your wrist, pulling you back to Momo.

The devilish glint in her eyes catches you off guard. Squatting down next to her as she still catches her breath, you take her hand and sweep a piece of hair off her forehead.

“You doing okay, honey? Do you need anything?” All she can do is smile through her breathless state.

“That was not how I planned this!” chuckling and fixating on your naked figure crouching next to her.

“Stand up.” halfway barked at you.

Not being one to usually take demands, you stay right where you are. Momo glares into your soul, unable to make you do what you’re told. She rolls her eyes and with a pensive face, rethinks her approach.

Watching the light bulb go off in her head was almost perplexing. What was she going to do? Her pupils dilate as she slinks to the floor next to you. She positions herself on her knees facing you.

“Use my face, baby” sticking her tongue out and angling her head up.

You slingshot up so fast you almost fall over. Catching your balance quickly enough for her not to notice and position your cunt right above her tongue.

So this is how she can get you to listen to her?

She takes the moments to lick the slick off your thighs, trailing her tongue up before laying it flat across your aching core.

Momo grabs your hand and places it on the back half of her head. You weave your fingers into her hair and use her in any way you want.

“Fuck” leaves your lips. Smearing your slick across her mouth like you’ve never had her tongue on you. Frivolously using her like your own personal toy.

She moans into you, vibrations sending you into a spiral of pleasure. Hips grinding harder down onto her warm tongue, you are unable to keep yourself together for longer than a few seconds, untethering completely into a lust driven state.

Feral was an understatement. The ache in your stomach clenching tight for so long and threatening to release every time you skim across her lips.

Momo’s hands grip your hips enough to stop you, a hand slipping between your legs. Her mouth attaches to your clit and her tongue starts circling. Two fingers easily penetrate you, adding another form of pleasure into the already passionate moment.

“Oh my fucking god…Momo, fuck” whimpering down at her.

Arrogant glimmer in her eyes sparkle while the pattern of circles spirals on, fingers curling up and quicken in pace.

Dripping down her chin and hands, you’ve lost all control. Euphoria creeps in, sprinkling tiny bursts of heat through your skin.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum…hmmmph- oh shit, I’m gonna fucking cum!”

A flash of warmth throughout your body as you clench around her fingers, aggressively thrusting your hips. Muscles tensing involuntarily, moaning loudly and holding your breath as you cum into your girlfriend's mouth.

Gasping for air and trying to keep your balance was challenging. Struggling to keep your legs locked as she continued to lick and suck, no matter how sensitive you already were.

Wet fingers come behind your thighs to keep you up and stable, nail gripping you as she locks you into place above her. A devious look smeared across her face with your cum, continuing to harshly suck and lick into you.

The overstimulation is causing an erratic need to keep going, almost painful, twitching at every pass of her tongue.

“Hurts so good” hissed between the heavy breathing and groans of ecstasy.

Momo aggressively slurps and siphons every ounce of tension out of you. Forcefully eating her dessert while it gripped her hair and praised her. Smiling into your cunt as she ripped another aggressive orgasm from your body.

Trembling above her as she holds you up, she’s smitten with herself as you twitch and convulse by her hands and mouth.

Reaching around and sliding the chair behind you before you fall down. The powerful jolt of endorphins she coaxed out of you reeling throughout your body once more, sending you backwards into the chair as you heaved and tried to regulate your breathing.

A grin crawls across Momo’s beautiful face gazing up at you. Zippers unzipping and the clunk of heavy shoes against wood snap you back from the fucked out daze you were in.

Sighing heavily, craning your neck over to see her standing next to you with her hand out towards you.

“Time for bed?” Questioning while closing her fist and opening it again, to non verbally ask for your hand.

A soft smile paints itself on your face, lazily throwing your hand into hers before closing your eyes again.

“Did I wear you out? Come on, baby.” Tugging your arm playfully and giggling at how successful her plan was.

Groaning as she pulls, you stand up and take a step, legs still shaking from exhaustion. Smooth soft skin hits your calf and your lower back as you’re picked up bridal style.

Nuzzling into her neck as she carried you out of the studio and to your shared bedroom. Laying you down in your spot on the bed and tucking you in before taking a half a step away.

Whining out to her without opening your eyes, you put your arms up for her to crawl into. A fluttery laugh is heard from the end of the bed when you feel the covers shift again.

A warmth fills your chest and sinks you into such a relaxed state as Momo crawls over top of you, finding her place by your side and cuddling into you. Her arm around your torso and her nose buried into your neck.

“I love you, y/n. I’m sorry if I’ve been absent these past few days…I just wanted to surprise you.” A hint of sadness in her tone takes you a little off guard. She would never intentionally make you feel ignored or unimportant.

“I love you too, honey. I was grateful for that surprise. Please do that whenever you want!” Reassuring her that everything was just fine and you two were perfect, as usual.

You feel her smiling into your skin before she pecks your neck softly a few times before snuggling into you further. Her deep even breaths followed shortly as she lulled into a peaceful sleep, with you not too far behind.

#hirai momo x fem!reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #kpop x reader #twice smut #kpop imagines #wlw #hirai momo x reader #momo imagines #momo smut #momo fluff #momo x reader #momo angst #momo thoughts #hirai momo #momo x fem!reader #twice momo #momo

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wuishu · 3 months

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Hamzah the fantastic yapping about his girlfriend: compilation

Not a lot of people know about Hamzah’s relationship, but once he has a chance to talk about you, he will not shy away from talking about you. Fans could not help but make videos of them as tiktok clips or compilation videos on youtube.

There is no denying that he is head over heels for you, but some moments top others. The most popular one was a YouTube compilation named “Hamzah Being in Love: compilation”

The first clip was in an OOC podcast, where they talk about the most efficient thing: buying food outside or cooking food at home.

“No, 'cause my girlfriend always cooks food for us,” Hamzah says, as he's holding his mic, and Martin nods “I guess cooking food is good.”

“Of course, when you have a great cook at home.”

Martin smiles as he can see Hamzah being passionate about this topic, “I’ll give you and Mandy some of Y/n amazing cooking. If there's any left, though.”

“Cause sometimes I just finish them all,” he replied, “One of the best foods I've eaten was made by Y/n, God, now I'm missing her cooking.”

“I miss you, babe,” he said, looking at the camera as Martin laughed, folding like a plastic chair. Hamzah smiling.

The second clip was of Fortnite gameplay in the slushy noobz youtube channel. They were playing the game, and when Hamzah could hear the door slowly swing open, his gaze was on the door. He sees his girlfriend slowly trying to find something.

He could hear Martin trying to get a backup while he gets tag teamed, “Hi, what are you trying to find?” Hamzah said, as his Fortnite character was on all fours, leaving Martin defending himself

“Dude?!”

“I got it.” Your voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough to pick up from the mic, “Okay, I love you,” Hamzah said, Martin clutched the three v one fight, and he sighed loudly, snapping Hamzah out of his long stare

“Dude, what happened?” he said. Martin's face turned sour as he scratched his head, indicating he was irritated. “You are what happened.”

The next one was one of Hamzah’s old livestreams, where he was just talking to his chat, trying to pass the time. He got a donation asking what he would do this weekend

“Ahh, well, I'm gonna hang out with my girlfriend since she will be coming back to her hometown. Might as well show her around until she has to leave.” people are curious, asking if they can see her.

He wasn't hesitant and called you on the phone, “baby, people want to see you; can you come here?” and without a minute, you can see his girlfriend popping, waving to chat as a greeting

You can see the messages scrolling quickly as they compliment you. You smiled, “There she is, my beautiful other half.”

The next clip shown was Martin and Hamzah playing FNAF, It was getting dark, and they didn't know how many hours they wasted while they played the game.

Hamzah showed his phone to show what time it was, and his wallpaper was you standing up, flash on while you were holding his hand, “It’s 9:45, I'm getting sick of this game”

Martin nodded but continued to control and run. “If they keep doing this to us, then… developers. Get ready for my fist.”

He sighed as he shifted in his seat to get comfortable. He kissed his phone screen as Martin looked at his antics and asked, “What was that?”

“Missing her right now-” and suddenly got jump scared by Monty; they jumped out of their seats. They nervously laugh.

The video transitioned to another OOC podcast clip, but instead of just Martin and Hamzah, you and Mandy were in it. You were sitting next to Hamzah, and Mandy was sitting next to Martin, so they were still in the frame. Since they didn't expect you to join them, you shared the microphone with Hamzah.

The four were talking about who always wakes up early in the morning and how late one wakes up. “Sometimes I wake her up since she works at dentistry so she gotta be extra early, and I cook her food because she always says she doesn't like the food near their clinic.”

He handed the microphone to you and said, “Yeah, 'cause the food there just doesn't hit right like you're cooking.”

“You like my cooking?” he curiously said, as you nodded and got the microphone, “Of course, I especially like the notes you put on my lunchbox. Always a cliché quote like ‘love you to the moon and back’ or ‘I think you're tooth cute’ and it's so cute.”

He grinned and looked at you. “Glad you like them.”

“Isn't it funny how both of our girlfriends are health professionals, while we are… just influencers?” Martin said as he was racking his brain up.

The last clip was another bake-off, and you finally cave into their pleas to be there, and for the first time, the place they use is in Hamzah's kitchen.

The measuring cup and ingredients were on the island table, big bowls were laid as they were mixing their batter, and you pre-heated the oven.

“You don't have to over-mix it, Martin. Now you won't have stiff peaks!” you said as you looked at Martin’s bowl. He was making meringue for his spin-off lemon meringue pie but instead of lemon, it was a simple blueberry pie with meringue.

“I’m sorry! I did not know!” He said as he raised both his hands like he was at gunpoint. Hamzah noticed your face was sweating, and your hair was sticking to it. He grabbed a piece of tissue paper and wiped your face while you were talking to Martin.

“Yeah, I need that cinnamon.” You knead your dough for the cinnamon rolls you were going to make. Hamzah decided to pull you away from the table so that he could tie your hair.

“Hold still,” you said, lowering a bit so he could tie your hair properly. “Thank you, babe”

You kissed his cheek, leaving your preferred glossy lip tint print on his face. He smiled like he had won the lottery. “You're welcome!”

“Now I feel like I'm the third wheel right now, jeez,” Martin pipped, as you smiled and continued to knead the dough. “You do this all the time, Hamzah?”

“Yeah, when we do it in the back-” the clip cut off, and they continued to do what they were doing. Let's just say that Hamzah did not wipe his face for the entire video.

(I'M BACK! I love Hamzah sm, and I'd totally do a part two of this if ya'll guys want!!)

#hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah imagines

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thewritingrowlet · 2 months

Text

The Outing Trip pt. 4, ft. tripleS Dahyun

tags: throatfuck, creampie, first time anal, daddy kink, rough

length: 13k+

author's note: @octoberautumnbox wrote a Dahyun fic recently, and it motivated me to do the same. In this finale of The Outing Trip, Dahyun takes all the spotlight, just like I promised some time ago—hope you like this one <3

“Girls, wake up, please”, you poke their exposed cheeks, “we have to leave soon”. Xinyu and Nakyoung open their eyes at nearly the same time. “Good morning”, Xinyu softly says, “what time is it?”. You quickly glance at the clock, “uh, just over 5 am”. Xinyu taps Nakyoung’s arm then points at you, “take care of him, Naky-yah”. Nakyoung, in her half-awake state, nods and gets off the bed. Your jaw drops in shock when you see Nakyoung get on her knees in front of you, “yo, what are you doing?”. “Xinyu said you like morning blowjob“, Nakyoung lets out a yawn, “give me your cock, please”. You put a palm on Nakyoung’s forehead when she leans forward, “no, I don’t consent. Besides, I already gave you my cock a few hours ago—let’s just wake up regularly, okay?”.

You lift Nakyoung up and place her back in bed with Xinyu, who immediately scoots over and hugs her. “If you two don’t get ready in time, I’m leaving you here”, you leave for the bathroom after delivering a kind warning to the sleepy cuties. As you’re standing under the shower, your brain wants to recap today’s events. First and foremost, Xinyu found out about your little affair with Dahyun and slapped you for it. You were so damn lucky that Xinyu was willing to forgive you. “Fuck, I almost lost everything”, you sigh, “play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Jung Jisung”. The second thing was arguably bigger than the first, as Nakyoung let you get in her ass; something that Xinyu has never done before, “I wonder what Xinyu thought about that”. Lastly, the latest turn of your relationship: you have Nakyoung, who has now reached the peak of her third wheel duties and become your side chick.

When you get out of the bathroom, you’re met with the sight of Xinyu on top of Nakyoung, kissing her passionately. “Girls, please”, you roll your eyes, “we’ll have plenty of time for this at home”. Xinyu gets off Nakyoung and pecks you on the lips, “I love you so much, oppa”. “I love you more, Xinyu-yah”, you reply to her. You then walk towards Nakyoung and peck her forehead, “I love you as well, Nakyoung-ah”. “Love is in the air—how cool is that?”, Xinyu exclaims. You push Xinyu towards the bathroom, “take a shower and be quick about it, ‘kay?”.

You sit on the bed next to Nakyoung, who’s smiling rather sexily for some reason, “I feel like we have things to talk about”. “If it’s not about sex, I don’t want to hear it”, Nakyoung deflects. You wanted to talk about this whole love triangle thing, but it’s not exactly related to sex, so you decide to keep it for later.

“Babe, look”, you nudge Xinyu’s arm and point at the sight in front of you, “that’s quite the welcoming party, no?”. Xinyu squints as she tries to make out who those people are, “that’s… Yooyeon-unnie and Jungwoo-oppa—who is that girl holding his hand?”. “I feel like I’ve seen her before, but I don’t know who that is”, you say. Xinyu lets out a laugh, “what are they even doing, oppa?”. You lean to whisper in her ear, “I’m more concerned about Nakyoung-ie. How will she react to seeing Jungwoo and this girl holding hands?”. Xinyu’s grin disappears as the realization hits, “oh, yeah, you’re right—I’ll keep an eye on her, oppa”.

The bus rolls into a stop, and the co-driver opens the doors for you and the others to get off. You understand that these people are desperate to get home, so you let them get off first while you and your girlfriends stay behind. As you wait for your turn with Xinyu, you see Chaeyeon walking in front of Dahyun, the latter covering her head with the hood of her sweater. “Oppa, unnie, we’ll be leaving first”, Chaeyeon waves with a smile, “see you guys soon!”. You and Xinyu smile at them and wave back. “We’ll see you soon, Chaeyeon-ah”, you choose to not say Dahyun’s name, considering that Xinyu’s wounds are still very fresh—it doesn’t feel right to ignore her, though.

You look behind you and see that everyone has gotten off, which means that it’s now your turn. “Let’s go, baby”, you take Xinyu’s hand and pull her onto her feet, and at the same time, you gesture to Nakyoung to follow you. “Let’s not say anything about our situation, okay?”, you whisper to Nakyoung and Xinyu.

Everyone waves at you as soon as you step outside. You give each person present a high five, including Jungwoo’s new girl. “Jisung-ah, this is Suyeon. Babe, this is my president, Jung Jisung”, he introduces you to her. “Ah, they’re dating”, you quickly glance at Nakyoung and see that she has her resting face on. “You look familiar—we’ve met before, haven’t we?”, you say to her. Suyeon confirms your suspicion and says that you interviewed her when she tried to join the council. “Can I ask how you are nowadays? Jungwoo told me about your misfortunes”. Suyeon and Jungwoo look at each other lovingly, so you estimate that everything is going well for them. “No one will hurt her ever again”, Jungwoo says with a beaming smile.

You invite your friends to get congee for breakfast, but only Yooyeon agrees to go—Jungwoo says that he’s promised Suyeon that they’ll visit Suyeon’s parents today. “Safe travels!”, you part with them and lead the three girls to your car. “I hope this thing didn’t die”, you press the ignition button while pressing down on the clutch pedal with a foot, “come on, Jennie; I need you right now”. As if hearing your pleas, your car roars to life after a few seconds. “Ah, very good, Jennie”, you praise your car, “c’mon, girls; aren’t you hungry?”

“Hello, welcome to Congee Club. A table for 4, I assume?”, a staff greets you as you enter the congee place. “Yes, please”, you follow the staff to your table, “do you have anything else other than congee, by any chance?”. The staff hands you a menu sheet, and you see that they also offer a different type of noodles; “we can put the same toppings on the noodles”, the staff adds. You look at your friends and collect their orders: Yooyeon wants congee with shredded braised chicken, Nakyoung wants congee and quail eggs, and finally, Xinyu wants the same thing you’re getting, which is noodles with extra boiled chicken on the side. The shop gives out complimentary hot tea, so you don’t need to worry about the drinks. “Alright, they’ll be out soon”, the staff takes the menu sheet with her and leaves your table.

“They’re dating, aren’t they”, Nakyoung says, seemingly unhappy about Jungwoo and Suyeon, “fuck!”. Nakyoung’s curse was loud enough for other patrons to hear, thus turning their heads to look at you. You offer those you can see a smile to defuse the situation, and at the same time, you pinch Nakyoung’s thigh. “Keep it down, Naky-yah—goodness me”, you scold her. “But Jungwoo-oppa should’ve been mine, oppa”, Nakyoung complains, “now I won’t have a chance to be with him”. You want to say “well, you have me”, but you decide against it and say something else. “First of all, it was you who decided to dip”, you put up your fingers as you narrate your thoughts, “secondly, there are plenty of fish in the sea; you’ll find someone else”. Your words aren’t exactly the most comforting, but you’d like to think that they’re what Nakyoung needs to hear right now. “Fuck you, oppa—respectfully”, she says to you with a pout.

Seeing that you and Nakyoung are done talking, Yooyeon takes her turn to speak with you. “How was the trip, Jisung-ah? Did you manage to, y’know, talk to her?”, Yooyeon makes quotation marks with her fingers. “I mean, yeah, but it wasn’t exactly fruitful”, you summarize, “basically Xinyu found out about me and Dahyun-ie and slapped me for it”. Her eyes widen as she looks at you and Xinyu, “but you didn’t break up, did you?”. You shake your head, “no, Xinyu was kind enough to forgive me. I also promised her to never do such thing again”. Xinyu moves her hands closer to yours, indirectly asking you to hold them, so you do just that. “I love you, baby, and I’m sorry for everything”, you say to Xinyu, earning a warm smile from her and Yooyeon. “I don’t know who I’d side with if you broke up, honestly—it’s not even my relationship haha”, Yooyeon chuckles, amused with herself.

“Oh, hey, it’s here”, you point at the staff, who is carrying a tray full of food in her hands. “Thank you very much!”, you take the bowls from her hands to help distribute food to your friends. Xinyu gestures to Nakyoung to swap seats with her so that she can sit next to you, and you help them by moving their bowls accordingly. Xinyu wraps an arm around yours and leans against your shoulder, “feed me, oppa”. “Sure, baby”. You move her congee closer to you and sprinkle some pepper into it, just the way she likes it. “Choo-choo”, you guide a spoonful of congee towards her mouth, and she welcomes you in with a smile. “Everything is better when you’re with me, oppa”, she says, letting out a happy hum after. All the while you’re taking care of Xinyu, Yooyeon is looking at you, but she quickly looks away when you make eye contact with her.

“Hah, finally—home sweet home”, you punch in your passcode and enter your apartment with Xinyu. She puts down her duffel bag at the doorway and runs towards the bedroom, leaving the door open for you. “You alright, baby?”, you lean against the door frame and observe your girlfriend, “do you need anything?”. “I need—“, a big yawn cuts her off, “I need you right here, oppa”.

Right before you get in bed, Xinyu stops you and asks you to help her undress. “Are we having sex?”, you ask to make sure. “No—well, not yet at least”, she throws her clothes onto the floor, “I just want to feel your skin on mine”. Since her intentions have been made clear, you take off your clothes. You don’t just toss them away, though—you fold them tidily, and you do the same for Xinyu’s. “Ah, sorry about that��, Xinyu grins sheepishly as she watches you fold her clothes.

You quickly look at the clock, “ah, 10 am; plenty of time to chill”. Xinyu opens her arms, “come here, daddy”. You get on the bed while letting out a sigh, “you can’t just call me that—now I have a boner, thanks to you”. She covers her mouth to hide her giggles, “do you want help with that?”. You pinch her exposed nipple, earning a yelp and a slap on the wrist from her. “I want you tonight, Xinyu-yah; I’ll empty my tank for you”, you say to her. “Just tonight?”, Xinyu puts on a dramatic pout, “what about tomorrow? Are you bored of me?”. You pull her into your arms and tangle your legs with hers. “How can I get bored of you, baby? I love you so much and you always love me back”. Xinyu lets out a squeal, “I can’t with you, oppa”.

“Babe, I’m sorry for bringing this up right now”, you start cautiously, “I want to make it right with Dahyun-ie and salvage whatever relationship I have with her”. “And how do you want to do that, oppa?”. “That’s a good question, actually”, you scratch your forehead in confusion, “any ideas?”. “Maybe you can spend a day with her, oppa”, she suggests, “tell her I’m away or something like that. I’ll stay at home while you, uh, conduct your business”. You ask her if it’s okay to spend next weekend with Dahyun, to which she says yes—one condition, though; “if you’re having sex with her, you must wear protection; you can only have raw sex with me”. You agree with her terms and thank her for letting you talk about this. “You don’t have to thank me, oppa. I’m just trying to help”, she says, pecking your chest after. You start feeling emotional, but you hold your tears in for now, “I’m so thankful for you, baby. I’m so sorry for cheating on you”.

Well, here it is, Saturday morning on the following weekend. Dahyun has managed to avoid you the whole week, but today, you hope that you’ll be able to catch her. It is still pretty early, and Xinyu is still sleeping—wouldn’t want to leave without saying bye to Xinyu, would you?

You look around the apartment to find something to do to kill some time, and your brain suggests cleaning the apartment. “Well, let’s clean this place, shall we?”. First, you plan out the route: you want to start by mopping the floor and vacuuming the sofa, then wipe the kitchen counter and dining table with wet cloth, and finally, you’ll end the, erm, shift by cleaning the bathroom. “That is a sound plan”, you say to yourself.

Before you start mopping the floor, you grab the vacuum cleaner and use it to pick up fallen hair and the like so that it doesn’t get dragged around by the wet mop. You run the long nozzle of the vacuum cleaner under the sofa and TV shelf, since it’s most likely where dust ends up. Once that’s done, you dump the vacuum cleaner into the bin to be thrown out later.

You then make your way towards the laundry area where you keep the mop and bucket and take them to the bathroom. After filling the bucket with water mixed with some mopping solution, you’re now ready to mop the floor. You start from the window of the living room and snake your way through, reaching under the sofa and TV shelf to make sure that you don’t miss a spot.

When you go back to the bathroom to rinse the mop and change the water, you hear a thumping sound coming from the living room, so you check it out; you see Xinyu squirming around on the floor in front of the bedroom while rubbing her butt, seemingly in discomfort. “Did you slip, baby?”, you lift her and place her on the sofa, “sorry about that, baby”. “Aaaaah, oppaaaaa”, Xinyu whines, “I didn’t know it was weeeet”. You laugh at her, “just stay here, okay? I’ll get back to you after I’m done”.

Now that Xinyu’s comfortably lying on the sofa, you resume your work and mop the bedroom floor. “Might as well make the bed while I’m here”. You pull the sheets around until they’re straight and tidy up the pillows and blanket before running your mop around the bedroom floor. “What the fuck—is this cum?”, you bend forward and take a closer look at the persistent stain in front of the bed. You run your mop aggressively over the stain, but you can still see the outline of it. “Ah, fuck it; I’ve got bigger fish to fry”.

“Oppa”, Xinyu calls out to you when she sees you coming out from the bedroom, “can I help with anything?”. You carefully tippy-toe towards her and join her on the sofa. “Just sit still and look pretty, please”, you peck her cheek, “are you okay? Does your butt still hurt?”. Xinyu shakes her head, “no, it was more embarrassing than painful”. “Yeah, well, you should’ve paid more attention”, you tease her, earning a pinch on the cheeks from her.

“Babe, can you clean the kitchen, please? I’m going to clean the bathroom”, you ask for her help. Xinyu taps her chin, “and what do I get for helping you, oppa?”. You replicate her gesture and tap your chin, “hmm, what do you want?”. “I want your cum”, she says with a smile, “ah, actually, you’re going to be fucking Dahyun-ie a lot so I guess you should save your load for her”. You don’t know how to react to that, so you opt to stay silent, just to be safe. “Alright, fine. I’ll help you”, she jumps off the sofa, “you owe me pizza and pasta, oppa”. That, you know how to react to. “Alright, cool. Let’s meet here again after we’re both done”.

You’ve breezed through your task, and you assume Xinyu has too. “Babe?”, you call out to her from the bathroom, “you want to shower, or no?”. “One second!”, you hear a reply from her. You hear her rapid steps, and soon, she appears at the door of the bathroom. “Shower! Shower!”, she exclaims as she starts undressing. “You thought I wanted to shower together?”, you say to her in a flat voice, teasing her. “You didn’t? Oh, sorry”, Xinyu turns around and makes to leave the bathroom. You reach for her wrist and stop her, “I was just kidding, baby; of course I wanted to shower with you”. “That’s what I thought”, she comes in for a quick kiss, “I’d like to have a load, oppa”. She did say that you should save it for Dahyun, but you don’t have the heart to decline her claim to your first load—she is your girlfriend, not Dahyun. “Of course, baby”.

“I hope one day we have a bathtub, oppa”, she says, seemingly out of nowhere, “I’d love to have sex in a tub”. “I mean, we can move to an apartment that has one”, you shrug, “do you want to?”. Xinyu didn’t expect such an answer, as she was only yapping mindlessly. “M-maybe next semester, oppa”.

You ask her to sit on the toilet and kneel in front of her, just like you usually do. “Okay, then”, you start, “you said you want my first load? How do you want it?”. “Fuck me and cum inside; just like how we do it best”. You exchange smiles with Xinyu before getting down to business. She grabs your chin and invites you for a warm kiss, to which you respond warmly by, well, kissing her.

“I wish I knew other ways to show my love other than saying I love you”, Xinyu pouts, feeling stumped. “You don’t need to worry about that, baby; I’ll never get tired of hearing you say it”, you assure her. You’re flustered when you see her shed a tear. “Y’know, my ex used to make me feel like I was always lacking, and now, you always make me feel like I’m the best girl there is—God, if only you know how grateful I am for you, oppa”, she adds as more tears escape her eyes. “I don’t think we can have sex in this mood—why did she bring up her ex, though?”, you think, and you’re most likely correct. Xinyu needs comfort more than she does cum—no big deal, though; it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve been blue-balled (if you even can call it that). “Babe, I’ll help you shower and then we can cuddle, okay? Let’s keep the sex for next time”.

Xinyu plants her head on your chest, her favorite resting spot. “What time are you leaving, by the way?”, she asks. “I think I’ll have better chances to see her if I go to her restaurant”, you eye the clock on the wall, “I’ll probably leave in 2 hours”. Xinyu only lets out a hum, thus making you curious about her feelings. “How do I say this, oppa”, she sighs, “I don’t feel as hurt any more about the fact that you cheated on me”. “Really?”, you’re surprised to hear that, so you ask her to elaborate. “I mean, my ex also cheated on me, so I understand why someone would do such thing—never expected that you’d be like him, though”, she chuckles at the end.

You’re somewhat offended to hear Xinyu clump you up with her ex, but you literally did the same thing he did. “Like I said, the plan is to see Dahyun-ie and part ways with her, like, properly”, you remind her, “will you let me do that?”. “Sure”, says Xinyu, “just make sure you make the right impressions. I don’t want Dahyun-ie to think that I hate her, because I don’t”.

You were briefed by Xinyu before you left; she told you to get a bar of her favorite chocolate and a bag of Doritos to give to Dahyun as a little present. She also told you to give Dahyun this letter that she has written when you leave on Sunday. You didn’t expect Xinyu to take this sort of stance, but she probably only wants to help make sure everything ends well and everyone gets to be happy.

Xinyu’s words of “make sure you make the right impressions” keep repeating in your head as you’re walking towards Dahyun’s restaurant. You can’t believe your luck; Dahyun is attending the cashier. “Hello, welcome to—“, she’s surprised to see you, “o-oh, he-hello, oppa”. “Hi”, you show her a calm smile, “how are you, Dahyun-ah?”. Dahyun declines you the opportunity to have a conversation, shaking her head and re-focusing on the POS tablet in front of her. “What can I get you today?”, she asks, not looking at you. “One double smash burger and fries, and one iced lychee tea, please”. “Sure, please wait”.

Waiting is what you’re doing right now. You have no one else to talk to because your friends aren’t here with you—that guy with the headphones sitting at the other table probably wouldn’t appreciate you disturbing his lunch. “I probably should text Xinyu”, you think, so you pull out your phone and string together a message for her. Xinyu is probably asleep right now; it says that she was last online around 30 minutes ago, which is right after you left the apartment. The image of your sleeping girlfriend makes you feel sleepy yourself, and this restaurant table looks very comfortable to sleep on right now. You cover your mouth as you yawn; “surely Dahyun-ie will wake me up, right?”.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sleeping on the table, but it for sure still doesn’t feel enough. In your sleep, you can feel someone running their hand softly on the back of your head—not sure why your brain wants you to open your eyes, though. “Hm?”, you mumble as you open your eyes, “oh, hi”. “Hi, oppa”, Dahyun greets you in the gentlest voice you’ve ever heard from her, “tired?”. Well, yes, you are tired; “I spent the whole morning cleaning the apartment, Dahyun-ah”. She points at the tray full of food in front of you, “well, I have just the thing for you, oppa”.

Dahyun starts walking away from your table when she sees that you’re fully awake, but you stop her in her tracks by grabbing her wrist. “Please, sit with me”, you gesture to the empty seat next to you, “I want to talk”. She hesitates at first, but she eventually takes a seat next to you. “Oppa”, she says, her voice tiny, “I’m sorry”. “No, no, no—I’m sorry”, you slowly reach for her hands, “I’m the one who fucked up”. Dahyun stays silent momentarily before replying to you. “Do you like me, though, oppa? Do you think that I’m attractive?”, she asks. “I mean, yeah—have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?”, you think that it’s obvious, “you are attractive”. Dahyun smiles slightly and thanks you for the praise. “Go eat, oppa; nothing else is worse than cold fries—I won’t leave”, she says. You put a fry in your mouth and start chewing. “This isn’t regular fries, is it? What is this taste?”, you wonder. Dahyun tells you that she asked the cook to add a seasoning mix that she has come up with. You then take a fry and bring it towards her mouth, “have a bite, sweetie”. She holds your wrist while she takes the fry with her teeth—you’re surprised when she pecks your hand after; “thank you, oppa”. You take a moment to smile at her before turning your attention back to your food—it’s all about making the right impressions today.

Aside from the occasional hums of enjoyment, you’re quiet when eating. “You like it, oppa?”, she asks the obvious. “Of course I do, sweetie”, you state the obvious. You expect her to tell you off for calling her by a pet name, but she doesn’t seem to be mad about it. “I have a feeling that you’re trying to get in my pants, oppa”, she chuckles, “are you?”. The unexpectedness makes you cough a few times. “I mean, I’m simply trying to part ways with you properly. If I need to get in your pants for that, I’ll gladly do so”, you whisper to her. Sometimes you feel like you’re being too honest with people, and today is one of those times.

Dahyun taps your thigh a few times as she stands up from her seat, indicating that she wants you to follow her. She then takes you to the empty office where she kissed you last time. “I imagine Xinyu-unnie won’t like this”, she says as she closes the door behind you. You chuckle in response, “well, this was her idea”.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“What did she say?”

“I told her that I wanted to make it right with you, and she suggested that I spend this weekend with you; we can do whatever we want.”

“Cool—very cool.”

Dahyun plants her hands on your chest as she gets on her toes to kiss you. “That’s your teaser, oppa”, she says, “let’s go back; you still need to finish your food”. You stop Dahyun from turning around by holding her wrist again—there’s something about you and holding girls by their wrists. “Not so fast, cutie”. You lift her up by her thighs and come in for a deep kiss. “I’m sorry for hurting you”, you say softly, “I should’ve realized earlier that I could never cater to two hearts at the same time”. Dahyun shows you a gentle smile, “Trust me, I’m not hurt, oppa. I was more concerned about you and the unnie than myself”.

The selflessness is touching, you must admit, but it doesn’t change the fact that you cheated on Xinyu with Dahyun. “Why did you avoid me last week, then?”, you ask. “You literally go everywhere with your girlfriend, oppa; I didn’t want to risk getting slapped or yelled at in public”, she defends herself. You tell her that she doesn’t need to worry since Xinyu would never do such thing. “No, no, no”, she wiggles a finger in front of your face, “she slapped me at the resort when she found out about us”. Xinyu never told you about it, presumably because she’s embarrassed with herself for being violent. “I’ll ask her about it”. Dahyun wiggles her finger again, “no, there’s no need for that; as far as I’m concerned, I deserved it”.

Dahyun taps your forearms to signal you that she wants to be let down, so you gently lower her to her feet. “Eat your food, oppa”, she says, “you don’t want to make me throw it out, do you?”. No, you don’t. Wasting food is not a good thing—wait, hold on, let’s tease her a bit. “That burger isn’t the only thing I’m eating today, cutie”. “Oh my God, oppa, what the fuck are you saying”, she fans her red cheeks with her hands, “come on, let’s go back”. That’s as good of a reaction as you can get from someone who isn’t your girlfriend. Not only that, but you also did no buildup prior to the dirty talk—guess Dahyun is more perverted than you know.

“Hey, dude, don’t you have a girlfriend already?”. The guy from the other table surprises you as soon as you leave the office room with Dahyun. “Excuse me?”, you ask, unsure of his intentions—just in case he tries anything stupid, you move Dahyun until she’s hidden behind you. “You. Have. A. Girlfriend”, he repeats, emphasizing each word, “why are you still trying to get into my Dahyun-ie’s pants?”. You quickly look over your shoulder and see that Dahyun is shaking her head—even if you’re clueless as to who he is and what his relationship is with her, you can tell that she doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“Alright, let’s—yo, yo, relax, man!“. You’re not sure why the guy thinks that it’s a good idea to reach for Dahyun, but you’re certainly not a fan of it. “Move!”, the guy yells at you, “she’s mine, not yours!”. “Not with that attitude, bro”, you plant your hands on his chest as you try to maintain some distance between Dahyun and this guy—what is his name, anyway. The guy finally realizes that his arms (that are built like shoestring fries) can’t compete with yours, so he gives up trying to push you and retreats. “Fuck you!”, he spits at the floor in front of you and leaves the restaurant, not forgetting to grab his belongings on his way out.

You grab some napkins from the register area and use them to wipe his spit off the floor, ignoring the nastiness of it. “Thank you, oppa”, Dahyun kneels in front of you and helps you wipe the floor, “that guy has been trying so hard to get close to me this past week”.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“What’s his name?”

“Park Jaewon.”

“Is he from the university?”

Dahyun nods, “I heard that he used to have a crush on Xinyu-unnie, but obviously you got to her first”

“Not to be mean, but I don’t think Xinyu would’ve fallen for him”, you sigh, “how did you know him?”

“Well, he slipped a note with his name and phone number written on it between some cash a few days ago.”

You stand up and look at his table, which he left dirty, “I’ll help you clean that up”. Dahyun grabs your wrist to stop you (the same way you did hers), “no, just go back to your table, please. I’ll take care of this”. You try insisting, but she insists harder, so you do as she asks and go back to your table to finish your food. It doesn’t feel right to just sit back and watch someone clean things up, though.

Dahyun joins you at your table after putting away the empty plate and cup, and you can see that her mood is worse than it was prior to the incident. “You alright, sweetie?”, you try to gauge her mood, “can I do something for you?”. She leans against your shoulder and lets out a sigh, “I really want to be in your arms right now, oppa—you said we can do anything we want, right?”. “Yeah, we can”, you take a sip of your tea, “you don’t live with your parents, do you?”. Dahyun shakes her head, “no, but we need to wait until my mom comes before we go—she should be here soon”.

You and Dahyun wait for Mrs. Seo by exchanging stories from your pasts. She tells you about this guy who fell for her after hearing her sing and how he recommended her to audition to become an idol. “He was so confident that I’d make it, even if I wasn’t the least bit confident about my skills”, she says, enjoying reminiscing about the memory, “I hope he’s doing well, wherever he is now”. You ask if she dated him, and she said yes; they were each other’s first time. “That’s touching”, you smile, “can I ask why you two broke up?”. “I was a fool, oppa”, Dahyun’s smile gradually disappears, “I told him that I was bored of our relationship, even though he had been very kind and loving to me”.

You never dated anyone before Xinyu, and you wonder if boredom is a real threat to relationships. You can only hope that she will never get tired of you, because you’re certainly not ready to see her leave you out of boredom. “Why are you quiet, oppa?”, Dahyun asks, saving you from drowning in your own thoughts. “Sorry, cutie—I was just thinking about Xinyu”. “Tell me something about the both of you, oppa”, Dahyun requests, curious about your life.

“Xinyu is… my everything”, you give her the most honest answer possible, “I know I cheated on her and that’s fucked up, but I really mean it”. Dahyun asks you to continue, so you continue. “I’m not going to deny how attractive she is, but for me, she’s way more than looks and curves; she has been the best girlfriend that I could ever ask for”. She nods at you, seemingly in approval of your impressions of your girlfriend.

“Do you see a future with her, oppa?”

“Yes”, you barely hesitate, “yes, I do.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Do you see a future with me? Do you think I have a chance to be with you, oppa?”

You try your hardest to crank the gears in your brain to answer her question, and you think that you have one—well, here goes nothing:

“I mean, there’s always a chance for someone to be with someone.”

You’re not sure if the answer is satisfactory (or if it makes sense), but Dahyun nods anyway, so it probably is. “Here’s my advice, oppa: sometimes you need to not be so open to opportunities or possibilities—did you not learn anything from our little adventure?”. That is a great line, and you did not expect her to say something like that. You scratch your temple in cluelessness, “I don’t know what to say, Dahyun-ah”. Heh, not even the narrator knows what to say—that was quite the advice, Seo Dahyun.

Shortly after, salvation comes to your aid in the shape of Mrs. Seo, who is seemingly in a good mood. Her gaze lands at you and Dahyun, so you stand up and promptly bow in respect. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Seo. Have you been well?”, you ask. “Ah, hi, Jisung-ah”, she waves at you, “I’ve been superb—thanks for asking!”. Dahyun taps your thigh, signaling to you that the two of you can now leave the restaurant. “Mrs. Seo, I’d like to go out with Dahyun-ie tonight. Is that okay?”, you ask, trying to be polite. “Dahyun-ie is old enough to make her own decisions, so you should ask her first—if she’s okay with it, then so am I”, she replies.

You quickly look at Dahyun, and she looks right back at you. “Right”, you clear your throat, “we’ll be leaving then. Have a good day, madam”. Dahyun is smart enough to not hold your hand when you’re still inside the restaurant and wait until you’re out of her mom’s sight. “You’re funny, oppa”, she comments, “is that how you ask for permission to go out with a girl?”. “I mean, I was just trying to be polite”, you defend yourself, “come on, cookie; I think we have somewhere to be”.

Dahyun says that she needs to make a quick stop at a convenient store first, so you drive towards the closest one, which is about 5 minutes away from the restaurant. “Wait here”, she says as she gets out of the car. Dahyun’s short stature disappears behind the store’s shelves, so you can’t tell what she’s getting. You’re reminded, however, that you’re supposed to give some things to her, courtesy of Xinyu. You reach towards the floor of the middle row, and you can feel that the plastic bag is there, “oh, nice, I didn’t forget to bring it”.

Dahyun doesn’t take too long to return, as she opens the front passenger door after a few minutes. “Alright, we can go to our apartment, oppa”, she says. “Our?”, you make sure you didn’t mishear. “Oh, sorry—I meant my apartment”, she corrects herself, letting out a chuckle at the end, “I’ll show you the way”.

Dahyun sang during the whole ride, thus making the trip feel very short, and now you find yourself sitting in the parking lot of her building. “I believe you’d like to come up with me”, she says. Well, yes, you would; you didn’t come here just to drive away again right after. You offer her your hand, and she holds it without thinking twice. “I have a feeling that today will be the last time I get to spend time with you like this”, she says, her tone that of… sadness? “Cutie, you’re the one who told me to not be so open to all possibilities”, you try to reason with her. “I know”, she sounds defeated right now, “come on, let’s get to my apartment now”.

You find yourself standing in front of her unit after a short walk, and Dahyun uses her other hand to unlock her door for the two of you. “Welcome, oppa”. You enter her apartment and take a look around, “so clean, Dahyun-ah”. “It’s not hard to keep it clean when you don’t have too many things to begin with”, she moves to stand in front of you, “so, what do you want to do now?”.

“Allow me to do this one last time, sweetie”. You bend down slightly and give her a fleeting kiss. “Wait”, she gasps, “please, one more time”. She gets on her tippy toes while her arms wrap around your nape, “please, one more time, oppa”. She’s asking very nicely, so you reward her with a kiss that’s deeper than last time. “I wish you were mine, oppa”, she says, her eyes glassy from unreleased tears, “I love you, Jung Jisung”. You wonder if you should say it back, considering the circumstances and all that. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”, Dahyun protests, “you had no problem saying it back at the resort”. “Sorry”, you inhale deeply as you prepare, “I love you too, Seo Dahyun”. You see that the dams in her eyes have broken, thus releasing tears onto her cheeks. “Thank you, oppa”, she says, “I’m thankful for you, even if you were never really mine”.

Dahyun lets go of you and walks towards her bedroom. “Have a seat, oppa. I’ll be right back”. You sit down on the sofa and lean back as you start re-considering if this peace-making thing is a good idea or not. “Fuck, what if this doesn’t work?”, you palm your forehead, feeling stressed and concerned, “God, help me, please”.

She comes out of her bedroom after a short while, and you see that she has changed into a tight-fit shirt and a short skirt that barely covers half her thighs. She moves to kneel in front of you and plants her hands on your thighs. “What are you doing, cutie?”, you ask, trying to not have a boner. “Seducing you”, she licks her upper lip sexily, “I want to get in your pants, the same way you want to get in mine, you cheater”. “That’s very sudden”, you blink your eyes rapidly in confusion, “why the, uh, office look, then?”. “Don’t think that I never notice how you drool every time Xinyu-unnie wears a shirt”. “Fuck, she knows it—Xinyu is crazy hot in a shirt, too”, you think to yourself.

Your silence confirms that Dahyun is right, hence the giggles. She teases you further by unbuttoning the first few buttons of her shirt, thus exposing more of her chest. “Who’s hotter, oppa: me or your girlfriend?”, she leans forward just enough for you to be able to see her cleavage. You can come up with an answer by comparing each other’s assets, but at the same time, you feel like that’s a waste of time—it’s not like Dahyun will tell Xinyu your answer, is it—so to answer her question: “you’re so fucking hot, Dahyun-ah; I like your proportions”. You don’t care if that sounds weird or stupid; you’re here to do whatever you can to make her happy, so that you’ll feel less guilty about all of this.

Dahyun keeps the smile on her face as she maintains eye contact with you. “Oppa, thank you for liking me”, her voice changes from seductive to cute, “let me do something for you, oppa—let me make you happy”. She digs for your belt and unbuckles it before zipping your jeans down, eager to reach your cock. You notice that she’s struggling to pull your jeans down, so you help her by pulling them down together with your boxers.

“Oppa, you’re bigger than my ex, now that I think about it—you’re long even if you’re not hard”, Dahyun chuckles as she strokes your cock to peak hardness. You’re not sure if you want to be compared to someone by penis size, but it fuels your ego, nonetheless. “Who’s better at sex: me or him?”, you give her a taste of her own medicine. “He liked vanilla more than anything else, so in terms of variety, you’re better than him”, she reminisces. She gives you a peck on the underside of your cock, “my fucking God, I love worshipping big cocks”.

She wants to take you in her mouth, but before she has the chance to do so, you halt her and lift her chin, making her look at you. “Yes, oppa?”, she shows you a very beautiful smile—one that you hope was yours. “Wait, no, I already have Xinyu—not this shit again”. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, “this is very likely our last time doing this, baby; let’s make it a memorable one”. Dahyun leans against your hand, which you notice can fit perfectly in a handful, “you’re such a good boyfriend, oppa—you’re even going out of your way to make it up to me”. You caress her cheek gently, enjoying the softness. “I want to make everyone happy, Dahyun-ah, and I don’t care if it’s stupid or a waste of time”, you say to her. “Maybe not everyone, oppa; you just need a handful of people in your life”, she smiles, “I hope you don’t disappear from my life, because I don’t want to give up on us just yet”.

You realize that you’re back in square one again; Dahyun wants you and hopes to be with you, but you can’t hurt Xinyu for the second time. “One thing at a time, Jung Jisung—one thing at a time. Just look at the girl in front of you and don’t worry about anything else”, says the voice in your head. “Alright, baby”, you give Dahyun a quick peck on the forehead, “do what you want to me”.

After being shown the green light, Dahyun parts her lips and puts your tip in her mouth, and you can’t help but to throw your head back. “That’s so good”, you chirp, “fuck, baby, you’re great at this”. You hear some lewd sound coming from her but pay no mind to it; she’s probably trying to get used to your girth stretching her jaws. With a grunt that’s barely audible, she starts going down on your shaft, slowly but determinedly. You encourage her by placing your hand on the back of her head and petting her gently. You let out a moan after a particular move from her; “fuck, that’s good, baby”.

You know that she’s capable of taking your whole length, so the fact that she’s only taking half of it isn’t exactly satisfactory for you—you are naughty like that. With your palm already sitting on the back of her head, you hold it firmly and pull her towards you, forcing your cock deeper into her mouth, and possibly, her throat. The lewd sounds she’s making right now are music to your ears, making you more eager to reach her throat. “I know you can do it, baby”, you grit your teeth and thrust forward, “oh, fuck—come on, baby”.

Dahyun taps your butt rapidly, indicating that she needs a break, so you retreat from her throat and lean back on the sofa again. “Fuck, oppa”, she coughs a few times, “oh, God, I love it”. “I’m sorry for not asking earlier, baby, so I’ll ask now: do you want it rough?”, you ask in a gentle voice. “Isn’t that obvious already?”, she looks at you with signs of lust drunkenness on her face, “you can be as rough as you want, daddy”.

Well, there it is, the daddy kink that you know and love—there’s something about that word used in a sexual context that arouses you beyond help. You help Dahyun stand up and carry her to her bedroom. “No man has ever been to this bedroom, oppa”, she giggles, “even if I’m not a virgin, I can still have my firsts with you”. “That’s cute, baby”, you comment.

You stop in front of her bed and gently lower her. “For future reference, baby, there are two things that I like seeing girls wear: a sleeveless top, and a shirt”, you say. “I figured, since unnie wears those two things a lot—oh, it’s called a blouse, by the way”, she giggles, “come on, fuck my face again”. You figure that she was the naughty one in her past relationship, because no previously innocent girl would say such thing to her man; “heh, no wonder she was bored of her ex”, you think. While you’re busy thinking, Dahyun has put herself in a position where her head hangs off the edge while the rest of her body is lying flat in bed. “Should be easier to fuck my throat in this position, oppa”, she says, “please, in here”.

“Just so we’re clear, I won’t stop for anything”, you warn her with your cock in hand and ready to go. “I don’t—ghlk”, the sound Dahyun makes when your cock interrupts her speech fuels the fire of lust in your head. “Touch yourself—if you don’t cum with me, I’m taking your ass”. You don’t exactly intend to take her ass, but the threat itself is usually enough to make a girl do as you say—look, Dahyun is touching herself over her panties. “Aren’t you a good girl”, you praise her, “I’ll start now”.

You hold her plump tits and use them as handles while you move your hips back and forth. “Oh, fuck”, you groan; the way her lips wrap perfectly around your cock makes for a really good stimulation for you. You see the way her throat bulges when your cock is fully lodged in there—not even Xinyu has done this with you. “Keep comparing her to your girlfriend, that’ll do you good”, the voice in your head says. You put a palm on her neck and squeeze gently every time it bulges, earning all kinds of sounds from Dahyun. “You’re really good, baby—hah, fuck”, you praise her with heavy breaths.

You’re almost ashamed that you’re already so close to your orgasm, but this is just too good. You let go of her breasts and fix your hands on the bed instead, getting ready to fuck her throat harder and faster. “Be good, baby; I’m so close”. She’s been very good for the last few minutes, but it doesn’t hurt to remind her. You lean forward just a little bit and start fucking her properly, not caring about her well-being. You’re too busy abusing her throat that you don’t notice that Dahyun is no longer touching herself even though her hand is still placed over her pussy. With a grunt and a curse, you blow a load deep in her throat, possibly sending it straight to her stomach. You close your eyes and savor the high of your orgasm while your cock is still lodged in Dahyun’s airway. That is, until you feel weak taps on your thighs, as Dahyun is desperate for air. “You want to breathe, baby?”, you tease, and you see her nod slightly, “one sec, okay?”. You retreat slowly from her throat, and you see that her makeup is now ruined, and her face has spit and tears all over it. “You look beautiful”, you chuckle, “good job, baby”.

She gathers the last bit of her strength and reaches her arms out to you. You’re not sure what she exactly wants, but you take her hand anyway and help her move into a better position. “You… you used me”, she says, her voice feeble, “you fucking used me, and I fucking loved it, daddy”. “You’re so fucking naughty, Dahyun-ah—no wonder your vanilla-loving ex bored you”, you shake your head, amused by her craziness. “I wish he was as naughty as you are, daddy—fuck, I can’t breathe”, she rolls around as she tries to get as much air as possible.

While she’s busy trying to get herself together, you decide to see if she did cum with you as you commanded. You hike up her skirt and see that it’s not too drenched, just some leaky wetness decorating it.

“You didn’t cum, did you?”

“I-I didn’t”

“Have you always been this disobedient?”

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you cum?”

“Because I want you in my ass, daddy.”

Fuck: that’s one more girl who offers you her ass. Again, once again, Xinyu has never done this with you. You pull her into a sitting position in front of you and hold her shoulders. “How sure are you?”, you ask. “One. Million. Fucking. Percent”, she smirks, “I know the unnie is too scared to take you in the ass, so do it to me, daddy”.

“Fine—do you have lube?”

“In the wardrobe, in the bag from the convenience store”

Aha, so that’s why she wanted to make a stop at one earlier.

“You didn’t expect it, did you, daddy?”

You walk towards her wardrobe and see the bag sitting on a rack, next to some panties and bras. You fish the lube out of the bag and right before you close the wardrobe, your eyes land on some ties that are sitting on a lower rack. “Should be able to have fun with this”, you grab one and close the wardrobe behind you.

“Hands”, you say, and Dahyun crosses her hands behind her back. You tie her wrists together firmly and tell her to lie down on the bed while you slather lube on your cock. “This is my first time, daddy”, she reveals, and you almost drop the bottle due to the shock. “Are you sure you want to give it to me?”, you look at Dahyun, who now has her ass in the air. “Think of it as my commitment to never give up on chasing you, no matter how long it’ll take”. You’re not entirely sure why she’s so hell-bent on being with you, and a part of you thinks that she wants to be with someone who’s comparable to her ex, who she has described as someone who is kind and loving, just like you are.

“Fine”. You continue coating your cock with lube so that you won’t hurt her too much. You then move behind her and untie her hands. “Oppa? You okay?”, she asks, unsure of your intentions. “It’s not right to do it like this on your first time, baby”, you put on a gentle smile, “on your back, please; I want to see you”.

Dahyun rolls onto her back and spreads her arms and legs, hoping that you’ll fill the space with your body. “You’re so kind, daddy”, she pecks you on the lips once, “I swear to God, unnie is so lucky to have you”. You want to say that you’re the lucky one, but you don’t feel like talking about your and Xinyu’s relationship with Dahyun, especially when you’re about to fuck her ass. Dahyun airs her annoyance for not getting an answer, but you ignore her, opting to start unbuttoning her blouse instead. “O-oh”, her cheeks start turning red, “y-yes, you can do that, I guess”.

“Take a look at yourself in the mirror and tell me what you see”, you command her. The mirror is right in front of the bed, so Dahyun doesn’t need to get off the bed to look at it. She eyes herself from top to bottom and lets out a wow; “I can see why you like seeing girls in a blouse, daddy—fuck, I look so hot like this”. You chuckle, “told ‘ya”.

You pull her backwards gently by her shoulder until she’s lying flat on the bed again. “One last time: are you sure you want to get fucked in the ass?”, you make sure she hasn’t changed her mind. “Take me, daddy”, she guides your hands towards her skirt, indirectly giving you the green light, “even if you can’t be mine, you’ll be the only person to be in my ass”. “Sweetheart, you deserve to be with someone who loves you and you only—I’m not the perfect guy that you think I am; trust me”, you start pulling her skirt down by the waistband, “that being said, let’s make this a memorable one, hey?”.

Your hands coincidentally land on her thighs, and only now do you notice how soft they are. She starts moaning when you run your hands back and forth on her thighs. “You like my thighs, daddy?”. “They’re so soft, baby”, you pinch them lightly, “they feel perfect in my hands”. “I don’t know—oh, fuck, what are you doing, daddy”, Dahyun’s words are cut off when you touch her pussy over the wet panties, “am I not so perfect for you, daddy? Oh, fuck, I’m so wet”.

You ask if you can pull down her panties, and she gives you permission with a nod. “You’re really wet, aren’t you, baby?”, you tease her by putting a finger on her nub and pressing down on it, “you’re wet for your senior’s boyfriend”. “Oh, oh, God—y-you’re supposed to be mine, not hers!”, Dahyun screams when she feels more stimulation on her nub, “oh, please, just fuck me already”.

You move to sit in between her legs and aim your cock at… which entrance? “She wanted me to take her ass, but fuck, her pussy is so tempting right now”, you try to quickly come to a decision, “ah, fuck it; pussy first, ass later”. You guide your cock towards her pussy and go deep right away, earning a long and loud moan from Dahyun. “Oh, fuck, daddy”, her breathing is irregular thanks to your cock that’s stretching her, “w-why not my ass? FUCK!”. She lets out a scream when she feels you hitting her deepest spots. “Your pussy is too good to miss out on, baby”, you say, and you wonder if that was too vulgar a sentence—perhaps misogynistic, even.

You fall forwards onto her body without letting up your pace, eager to bust again. “Let’s go, baby”, your breathing is becoming irregular too, “hah, fuck, you’re so good—how are you so good”. Dahyun doesn’t need to answer that—it’s not like she can, anyway; she’s too busy moaning and screaming. “Oppa, I—”, she interrupts herself with a scream when your cock hits a particular spot, “fuck, please let me cum with you”.

You know how you can help her achieve that: by putting her in a mating press—your favorite position to fuck Xinyu in. She appears to know what to do, as shown by how she’s holding her legs back to give you all the space you need. “Yes, daddy, yes”, she approves of your actions, “please, I’m so close, daddy”. You don’t know how close you are, but that’s of little importance right now; you’re trying to send Dahyun flying across the finish line. “Cum for me, baby—be a good girl for me”, you say with troubled breaths.

It's as if your words had control over her body; she announces that she’s about to explode shortly after you told her to cum and be a good girl. Unlike at the resort, she can scream to her heart’s content now (fuck the neighbors, by the way). You retreat from her warmth while her orgasm takes her to the 7th floor of the sky. You lie next to her and pet her head gently, throwing praises at her as you do.

“Wait here, okay? I have some stuff for you”. You get off the bed and get dressed; you want to give Xinyu’s parcel to Dahyun now, just in case you forget tomorrow. When you walk out of her unit, you see one of her neighbors—a female, a bit older than you probably—standing in front of her door, as if waiting for you. “Ah, you must be Dahyun-ie’s new boyfriend”, she says, “please keep it down, okay? It’s been a long week, and I want to rest”. “I’m sorry, miss; we’ll keep it in mind”, you smile and bow in respect before continuing your way to your car—a part of your brain wonders if the lady heard Dahyun say “daddy”, and the probability of it makes your cheeks turn red.

You quickly fetch the parcel and some water bottles and make your way back to Dahyun’s unit. You saw her unlock the door, so you know what her passcode is. “0, 8, 0, 1, 0, 3”, you mumble as you press each number, and the lock unlatches right after, “right, cool”. You put the bag on the sofa before checking up on her—you also make the time to check your phone, in case Xinyu texted or something, and apparently there’s none. “I wonder what’s going on in your head, sweetie”, you say to yourself, letting out a sigh after, “right, need to tend to Dahyun-ie”.

You open the bedroom door and find her asleep, still naked and sweaty. You walk back to the sofa and grab some water for her. “Sweetie”, you poke her tummy to wake her up, “I have some water for you”. “I’m tired, oppa”, she says in a weak voice. You help her sit and guide the bottle to her mouth, and she parts her lips slightly to let water into her mouth. “Why are you not naked, oppa? Are we done? Do you not want to cum?”, she fires a barrage of questions at you.

“You’re tired, though.”

“No, I’m not”

“Oh, please, you were literally sleeping.”

“No, I wasn’t. I was just waiting for you to come back from God-knows-where.”

You realize you can’t defeat her when she’s this insistent; “okay, fine—how do you want me now?”

“I should be asking that question—how do you want me, oppa?”

You flip her over and drag her by the legs until she’s bent over the edge of the bed. “Do you mind if I do it in this position?". “Not at all”, she says, “fuck me again, oppa”. As you’re getting undressed, you’re reminded of your little meeting with her neighbor. “Sweetie, the lady next door heard us—she told us to keep it down”, you forward the message to Dahyun. “Lady next door? Haseul-unnie?”, she laughs, “as if she doesn’t get loud every time her fiancé is banging her in the ass”. You’re perplexed, “how do you know she was taking him in the ass?”. “How can I not?”, she says, “she keeps screaming you’re in my ass every single time they have anal”.

Well, shit, now you’re not sure if your boner is from imagining Miss Haseul taking her fiancé in the ass or if it’s from Dahyun bending over in front of you, but since you can’t fuck Miss Haseul, you’ll use it to fuck Dahyun instead. You clear your throat and shake your head to get your focus back. You then hold your cock in one hand and hold Dahyun’s waist in the other. “Are we ready?”, you ask, and she hums in response.

Dahyun jolts at the first contact; “gently, please; I’m sensitive”. You nod—even though she can’t really see you—and slowly ease your way into her pussy until you’re fully enveloped by her, earning soft moans from her at the end. “So big, so big”, she mindlessly chants, “how are you so big, oppa?”. “Dad’s genes”, you grit your teeth thanks to how tight Dahyun feels post-orgasm, “fuck, I can’t take this anymore”.

With the way she’s gripping you, you just want to keep pounding away until you bust—speaking of busting, you haven’t asked where she wants your cum, so you take the chance to do so now. “I’m fertile”, is the answer you get, and as amazing as it is to cum inside, cumming inside a fertile girl doesn’t sound like the best idea right now, so you take a mental note to pull out when it’s time to bust.

You close your eyes and slap her butt a few times before slamming into her with all your might. “Fuck, I’m close”, you announce. You’re shocked when you hear Dahyun scream from the top of her lungs, so you open your eyes and make out of the situation: she’s putting her index finger in her ass while your hips are crashing into her butt cheeks. “Here, I’ll help”, you coat your index finger with your spit and shove it into her rear, stretching it further. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”, she can only scream out profanities as you’re stimulating her in two holes at once, and you must admit, this is very naughty and arousing at the same time.

You want to increase the chance of having Dahyun cum with you, so you snake your other hand around her thighs and start rubbing her nub recklessly while still fucking her ass with your finger—fingers, rather; you’re forcing your middle finger into her rear. “Fuck, that hurts so good—please, more”, she says, her voice weak from exhaustion—perhaps overstimulation, too. You’re given the idea to spread your two fingers, the same way you’d spread them when fingering a girl’s pussy. “IT HURTS, OPPA! IT HURTS!”, she reacts the exact way you hoped. “If you can’t—oh, fuck—if you can’t take this, you can’t take my penis”, you say while your fingers are still making scissoring motions in her ass.

You almost failed to notice that you’re about to cum because you were so busy playing with Dahyun’s asshole—luckily for you, however, your brain manages to remind you in time. You retreat from her pussy and her ass while yelling out a profanity, and true enough, you start spurting cum all over her butt cheeks, some of them dripping down her thighs. While all of this is happening, she’s squirting like a fountain and her legs are shaking. With the last bit of your energy, you help her get comfortable and join her in bed after for a quick cuddle.

“We’re done, baby”, you say after getting yourself together, “we can rest now”. You can feel how fast Dahyun’s heart is beating and how sweaty she is on your skin, and you’d like to think that this is a sign of a job well done. “I-I’m tired”, she weakly says, “you used me like I was a cheap slut”. Truthfully, that doesn’t sound like a good thing, but she says that it is—she was trying to imply how rough you were. “Y-you haven’t fucked my ass y-yet”, she unnecessarily reminds you. “With—hah, fuck—with the way you reacted to my fingers, I’m not putting my penis in there”, you deflect, “let’s just rest for now, please”.

Bzzt bzzt

In your sleep, you hear your phone, that’s sitting on the bedside table, vibrating, so you grab it. The way your phone lights up in the dark bedroom makes you squint, but you manage to see that it’s Xinyu—she’s calling you in the middle of the night, presumably because she can’t sleep. You carefully move Dahyun off your body and sneak out of the bedroom to pick up the call.

“Hello, this is Jung Jisung.”

“Hello, this is Zhou Xinyu.”

“Are you okay, baby?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I can’t sleep, oppa. It feels weird to not have you in bed with me.”

“I’m sorry, baby”

“I’m starting to regret suggesting you this idea, actually—when are you coming home, oppa?”

You move your phone from your ear so that you can see the time: 01:10, it says.

“Probably in a few hours, babe”

“Ugh, fine”, Xinyu airs her annoyance, “I won’t sleep until you’re here.”

“No, please don’t do that”, you air your disapproval, “please try to sleep, baby—look, I’ll come home before 9.”

“Don’t worry about me, oppa. I’ll just turn on my laptop and study or something—you should go back to Dahyun-ie.”

You’re starting to feel really bad, but your sleepover at Dahyun’s place isn’t quite done yet. “Is that Xinyu-unnie?”, Dahyun’s voice startles you. “Oh my God, fuck”, you sigh, “yes, this is Xinyu—babe, Dahyun-ie is here”. Xinyu asks you to put her on speaker, so you do so.

“Unnie, hello”

“Hi, Dahyun-ah. How are you?”

“I’m tired, unnie”

“Did oppa fuck you too hard?”

Dahyun looks at you as she tries to come up with an answer.

“K-kind of.”

You hear Xinyu laugh over the phone, probably amused with you and Dahyun.

“Well, I’m glad, because otherwise all of this is a waste. Anyway, I’ll go now—I’ll find something to do.”

“You should try going to sleep, baby”, you say to Xinyu, hoping that she’ll listen to you.

“No you, no sleep”, Xinyu says, “Dahyun-ah, ask oppa about a peace package—I have some stuff for you. Goodbye, you two.”

Xinyu hangs up the phone right after, leaving you with Dahyun in the dim living room, in the middle of the night. “What peace package, oppa?”, she asks. You point at the plastic bag on the other side of the sofa and tell her to open it. “What is—oh my God, chocolate? Chips? These are my favorites, oppa”, she digs through the bag and sees the small, folded piece of paper sitting in the bottom, “what is this?”. She unfolds the paper and starts reading its content out loud.

“Dear Seo Dahyun

This is Zhou Xinyu, the girlfriend of Jung Jisung.

First, I want to make it clear that I don’t hate you. I understand why you fell in love with my boyfriend, and while I can’t let you steal him from me, I’m letting him see you one last time so that the two of you can “break up” properly.

Now, I’m sure you understand why I don’t want to lose my boyfriend; the things that made you fall in love with him are the same ones that make me keen on keeping him mine.

Lastly, I’d like to apologize for slapping you at the resort. I was just so angry to hear that the two of you had been fooling around behind me. Once again, I do not hate you. I’ve forgiven you the same way I’ve forgiven my boyfriend.

With love,

Xinyu”

Dahyun folds the paper into its previous shape and puts it back in the bag. “How kind”, she says, “yeah, thanks, unnie—thank you as well, oppa”. She takes your hand and pulls, signaling to you to stand up, so you do so, and she wraps her arms around your body. “I love you so much, oppa”, she softly says, “can we go back to bed? We still have time until you need to go home”.

You climb onto the bed, and Dahyun climbs onto your body. “Oppa”, she taps your chest lightly, “I don’t want to go to work tomorrow—I mean, today”. You were about to ask, “what work”, but you’re promptly reminded that her parents run a restaurant, and just like them, she can’t really take a break. “Okay, so?”. “Please fuck me again so that I can tell my parents that I’m tired, because I will be”. She moves to sit on your lap and starts stroking you to get you hard. “Please, oppa. One more round”, she sounds very desperate, “this will be our last, I promise”. You sigh, “okay, fine; one more time”.

Dahyun lifts her butt off your lap and guides your cock into her pussy, moaning softly as she does. “Your girlfriend is so lucky, oppa; she gets to get fucked by this big cock of yours all the time—oh, fuck, yes”, she says. “We always say that—oh, fuck”, you’re cut off when she rolls her hips, the same way Xinyu usually does it, “we’re lucky to be with each other—oh, fuck, you’re so good at this”. “S-stop thinking about her, oppa”, she protests, and you want to remind her that she was the one who brought it up, but that’ll probably kill the mood, so you zip it and just enjoy the moment.

As she’s bouncing up and down on your cock, you notice how her tits are also bouncing, as if teasing you. You move your hands from her waist and put it on her tits, playing with them to your heart’s content. Dahyun approves of this, placing her hands over yours, “you like them, oppa? You like how perfect they are for you?”. You really want to put them in your mouth, so you move to sit and bend forward until your mouth can reach them. “Oh, yes, daddy”, the daddy kink makes a return when you start sucking on her tits, “just stay with me and don’t come back to your girlfriend at this point”. You think that it’s just heat-of-the-moment thing, so you let it pass; you don’t want to keep bringing up the same thing repeatedly.

“Oh, fuck”, Dahyun stops abruptly after a few minutes, the exhaustion apparent on her face, “I’m tired, daddy; fuck me, please”. Fucking her from below is exhausting, and you know you’ll run out of energy before she can cum, so you ask her to get off and bend over the edge of the bed like earlier.

Once she’s comfortable with her position, you stand behind her and take a good look at her curves—fuck, that butt looks very plump and tasty. You gather your might and spank her hard, earning a scream of pain and surprise. “Oh, that hurts, daddy”, she whines, rubbing the spot you slapped to cope with the pain. Seeing that she’s distracted, you take other hand and slap the other butt cheek, thus earning another scream. “Fuck, that hurts, daddy—please, it hurts”, she whines again.

You commit yourself to not think too much this time, since it’ll be the last time you’re doing this. Dahyun has proved to be able to take minimal intrusion in the rear, so you slather spit on your index and middle finger and slowly ease them into her ass. “Fuck! Fuck!”, she lets out screams due to the stimulation. You use your free hand to press down on the back of her head, “quiet, you—remember what your neighbor said”. “Y-yes, daddy”, her voice is muffled, but it’s still loud enough for you to hear.

“Fuck, where is the lube?”, you look around the dark bedroom for the white bottle, “ah, shit, it’s behind me”. “One second, baby”, you move into a position that allows you to reach it, barely able to grab it. The sound of the cap snapping open doesn’t seem to reach her ears, as she’s still letting out moans and grunts from the ass play. You slather lube recklessly all over your cock and throw the bottle onto the bed after. Dahyun lets out a sigh of relief when you remove your fingers from her rear—if only she knew what’s coming next. With your lubed-up cock in hand, you spread her butt and guide your cock towards her rear. She lets out a surprised gasp when she feels the tip of your cock on her entrance, “are you going to fuck my ass, daddy? Are you going to pop my last cherry?”. Without saying a word, you move your hips forward and force your way into her ass, and Dahyun can’t do anything else aside from pressing her face into the bed. The tightness makes you grit your teeth, “you’ve never put anything in here, have you? Fuck, you’re so tight, baby”.

You lean forward and plant your hands in the bed, eager to fuck Dahyun’s ass into the morning. “Remember: don’t be too loud”, you remind her. “Y-yes, daddy—OH, FUCK!”. Well, there she goes, screaming from the top of her lungs when your cock is fully in her ass—so much for “keeping it down”. You slowly move your cock back and forth in her ass until you think that she’s gotten used to it, because even if you’re impatient, you don’t want to hurt her more than this.

“Nghh, nghh”, is all the sound that she makes as your cock hits the deepest points of her ass with every pump. “You’re doing great, baby”, you praise her, “fuck, you’re doing so fucking great”. “I’m yours, I’m yours”, she chants softly, “fuck my ass, daddy; make it hurt”. You retreat as far back as you can without pulling out and slam roughly into her ass in one go, earning another scream of pain. “Oh, please, make it hurt, daddy”, she eggs you on. “Bet”.

You straighten your back again because you figure that you’ll be able to thrust harder like this. You match the rhythm of your spanks with your thrusts, making sure that she’s well-stimulated. “Daddy, daddy”, she asks for your attention, “you’re stretching my ass, daddy”. Well, yes, you can see that, but it’s fine; sometimes—if not most of the time—stating the obvious during sex is good.

Taking someone in the ass from behind (especially during your first time) proves to be difficult, and Dahyun is learning that first-hand. She can’t control how hard and deep you’re fucking her, as she’s just stuck lying in bed as you’re stretching her ass with your shaft. “Fuck, it hurts—it hurts so fucking bad”, the thought runs in her head endlessly as you pump her ass (seemingly) endlessly, “c’mon, Seo Dahyun, you can do this—make him happy”. When there is will, there is way; Dahyun, to your surprise, starts fucking herself on your cock, matching the timing with your thrusts.

“FUUUUCK! OH, OH, FUCK! IT HURTS! DADDY, PLEASE!”, she’s no longer holding in her screams, and you’re starting to feel concerned. You pull your cock out of her ass and move to soothe her, feeling apologetic. “I’m sorry, baby—fuck, I’m so sorry”, you softly run a palm up and down her back, “we can stop right here, baby”. You help her get on the bed, and she instantly squirms around while palming her asshole, seemingly in so much pain.

This is the problem with having little experience, because you’re now clueless as to how you can help her cope with the pain. “Daddy, it hurts”, tears start flowing out of her eyes and onto her cheeks, “it hurts so much, daddy”. “Fuck, I’m so sorry for that, baby”, you pull her in for a hug, feeling very regretful—sure, it was her idea and all that, but considering that: (a) a penis doesn’t belong in someone’s ass, (b) it was her first time, and (c) you were doing it rough, the burden of guilt is equally heavy—if not heavier—on you. “Did-did you like that, though? Y’know, taking my cherry?”, she still has the energy to think about your pleasure—how touching. Truthfully, you’re not sure what to say to that, but she probably wants to hear you say yes, so you say yes; “I did, baby; you’re so fucking amazing”. “I-I’m glad—oh, fuck, my ass is on fire”, she replies, still rubbing her ass with her palm.

“Huh? What time is it?”

The sun is up, its light filling the bedroom where you and Dahyun are in. You look to your left and see that she’s still sleeping peacefully, and you’re reminded of the situation before you fell asleep with her. You spread her butt cheeks gently and check on her asshole. “Doesn’t seem to be wounded or anything—fuck, I hope she’s fine”, you think to yourself as you inspect the result of your, uh, work.

You get off the bed and grab your phone to see the time; 8:20, it says—only a bit more to go before you can go home to your girlfriend. Your brain wants to get a shower, and you almost forgot that this isn’t your apartment. “Oh, fuck, need to wake her up”. You poke her cheek repeatedly to wake her up, and you see that she’s gradually opening her eyes. “Good morning, baby”, you greet her with a smile and cheek rubs, “do you want to shower?”. She nods slightly, “help me shower, oppa”.

You carry her in your arms and walk towards the bathroom with her—oh, hey, she has a bathtub. You open the toilet and make her sit on it. “Are you okay? Is your butt still in pain?”, you ask while kneeling in front of her, concerned about her well-being. She shakes her head, “I think I’m fine, oppa—fuck, you were going crazy last night”. “Well, it was more like this morning but yes”, you try to make a little joke, “I’m so sorry for that, baby”. She shakes her head again, “no, you don’t have to; I offered you my ass and you took it—the responsibility is mine as much as it is yours”.

You give her a peck before standing up and observing the layout of the bathroom; there’s a shower on the wall above the bathtub. “How do you usually shower, baby?”, you ask. She tells you that she usually just stands up in the bathtub under the shower and lets water run all over her body. “Let’s use the bathtub today, oppa”, she suggests, so you plug the drain and let water the tub for a few minutes.

You kneel in front of her again and show her a smile, “hi, baby.”

“Hi, oppa”, she returns the smile twice as sweetly to you, “you’re having a boner.”

“Yes, I can feel that—just my morning wood; no big deal.”

“What about my first time having anal, oppa? Is that a big deal, or no?”

“Of course, baby; every first time is a big deal.”

“Maybe I’ll start training my ass after this. I want to be able to take guys in the ass.”

“I mean, your body, your choice—but I’d say don’t do it too often; just the thought of you forcing things up your ass makes my heart ache.”

“Says you, who literally fucked my ass”, she chuckles, “but sure, I get your point. You’re such a sweet guy, oppa.”

Dahyun comes in for a kiss, and you welcome her warmly. “Even if I can’t have you for now, oppa, I will always be ready for you to come running to me”, she says with hopefulness in her voice. “I’m not cheating on Xinyu ever again, but yes, I get your point”, you say with a smile, hoping that it sounds rational to her.

Dahyun sees that the tub is decently filled with water, so she tells you to add some body wash into it and mix it around. “Let’s have a bath, oppa”, she says. You lift her and gently place her in the bathtub before joining her in it. “Let me take care of you, oppa”. She moves to sit on your lap and takes you in her pussy for a quick morning sex. “Fuck, it’s way easier to have normal sex”, she says between moans. “It was your idea to have anal sex, baby”, you remind her, “you’re such a crazy girl”. “I know—now quiet, please; I want to ride you”.

Now that the both of you are fully dressed, you’re now ready to say goodbye to her. You ask her to sit on the sofa and get on one knee in front of her. “Baby, listen to me, please”, you hold her hand and call her by a pet name one last time, “thank you for loving me, seriously. I know that we can’t be together for now, but I can feel how sincere your love is. You really deserve to be with someone who loves you unconditionally”. Dahyun accepts your kind words with a precious smile. “Thank you for everything, oppa. If you’re really not meant for me, then I hope that one day I’ll find someone like you”, she says, her eyes glassy. “No, baby; you deserve someone that’s better than me”.

You get on your feet, and Dahyun does the same. She wraps an arm around yours as you make towards her front door. “Can I walk with you to your car, oppa?”, she asks. “You don’t have to, baby—you should just rest”, you stop at the doorway and look at her, “goodbye, Dahyun-ah. It’s been such a pleasure”. “Goodbye, oppa. I’ll see you around”, she replies. You come in for a quick kiss before walking out of her apartment and closing the door behind you.

As soon as you enter your apartment, you see that Xinyu is sleeping at the dinner table. She hears your footsteps and starts opening her eyes slowly. “Welcome home, cheater”, she says weakly, “now I can finally sleep in peace”. You know what she means, and you lift her from her seat and carry her to the bedroom. You gently lower her onto the bed before reaching for the AC remote. She’ll be sleeping through the afternoon, so in case it gets hot, you turn on the AC for her. “Good morning, oppa”, she says, “how was it?”. “I’d like to think that it was successful”, you pull her into your arms, “she’s fine, I’m fine, and you’re fine”. “Did you—”, a yawn cuts her off, “did you cum in her?”. “No, I didn’t”, you say, “she said she was fertile, and I didn’t want to risk getting her pregnant”. “Good thinking”, Xinyu pecks your cheek, “okay, I’ll sleep now—see you in a few hours, oppa”.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #triples smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #smut #male reader smut

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 6 months

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Graphic depictions of illness; allusions to major medical procedure; accidental violence (m on f); allusions to child abuse

A/N: Finally. I make no excuses and a lot of apologies. Daryl is going through it right now but it's not just my normal whump. Reader gets to find herself again. I say that as vaguely as possible but you'll see at the end and in coming chapters.

A day and a half. A full fucking thirty six hours. The group still hadn’t returned. While it was logical to be concerned for their safety, you just couldn’t seem to look any further than the man on the bed no more than a foot in front of you. His fever raged and his breathing deteriorated, shallow rattles and painful fits of coughing. Still, those were less distressing than the moments he would wake, not remembering where or when he was.

During one such episode, you had been a peer from school. An innocent girl who had followed him home one day to catch crawdads in the creek behind his house. His one friend that he had to hide in the crawlspace until he could get his father to beat on him instead of looking for you. He didn’t have any friends. You were special, he said. The bruises were worth it.

Of all the ways to get Daryl to talk about what had happened to him, this wasn’t what you had expected.

To make matters worse, he had become violent, waking in a rage that no one could understand. He was swinging punches and trying to leave the bed, Lori holding you away from him while Hershel of all people tried to subdue him alone. It was the grating of his own voice against his throat that had brought on the coughing, the force of which had eventually tired him out.

You had appreciated the concern but had asked Lori not to come between you and Daryl again. Though she had retreated in a huff, Carol later assured you that she was only concerned for the safety of you and the baby. She wasn’t angry and she wasn’t judging Daryl for something over which he had no control.

Things were quiet at the moment. You hummed and carded your fingers through the archer’s hair. He had been sleeping without interruption for a little over an hour, but his breaths were seeming even more labored.

You were beyond exhausted. Two or three hours of sleep, barely eating between bouts of nausea, you were nearly to the point of being confined to that sickbed right alongside Daryl.

“How’re the patients?”

You didn’t lift your head, only your eyes. “Baby and I are fine. Daryl sounds worse than when you were here earlier.”

“Let’s take a look at you two and then I’ll examine Daryl.”

There was no point in arguing. You didn’t have the energy. Sitting up straight in the chair, your back protested from the time spent bowed over the edge of the mattress, but you continued the journey to relax against the backrest. Your hand never released Daryl’s.

Hershel motioned toward your sweater in a silent request for permission and received a mumbled knock yourself out in reply. Baby Dixon was still for the moment after hours of kicking and rolling and seemingly trying to fit a foot between your ribs. The veterinarian smiled gently upon removing the stethoscope and rolling down your sweater. You were grateful for the small gesture, likely would have left it up if he hadn’t taken the initiative.

“Heartbeat’s strong. Seems to be doing just fine according to my limited knowledge. You really should get some rest yourself. Eat something, drink more.” His stethoscope was already nearing Daryl’s chest when you noticed it; the twitch of a hand before fingers curled into a fist.

“Daryl, no!” You weren’t meaning to hurt the old man, inwardly wincing when you heard the thud of his body hit the floor. You were just quick enough to shove him out of the way, Daryl’s fist barely grazing your cheek instead. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s Y/N. You’re sick.” You kept your voice soft, right next to his ear, holding him firmly in a way he couldn’t escape in his weakened state.

“Hershel! Y/N!” Carol and Lori burst into the room, Beth just behind them. You heard the girl begin to cry and tend to her father but the other two were quiet.

“Where—dunno—can’t think—”

“I know, Daryl. It’s the fever.” He was coughing into your shoulder, his skin hot and dry where it touched yours. “You’re safe. I’m here. Thumper’s here.” The archer made a sound in his throat and by some miracle, you knew what it meant. Otherwise keeping your hold on him, you fumbled for his hand and pressed it firmly to the side of your belly. “Feel that? You woke them up too.” Your lip was wobbling, your voice threatening to do the same. “They just want their daddy to rest now so they can too. How ‘bout it, hmm?”

You pulled back slowly, steeling yourself for whatever it was you would see in his eyes. You almost whimpered when there was nothing short of exhausted recognition.

“D’I hurt—”

Your cheek burned and felt wet, but you shook your head. No, you wouldn’t tell him while he was like that. “I tripped. Face-planted. You definitely would have laughed.” He didn’t believe you, that much was obvious, but thank heavens for Thumper and a well placed punt straight to Daryl’s palm. His reaction was sluggish, head bowing to watch his hand rub circles over that spot.

“Hey, kid. Go—easy on—your mama.”

“How about you go easy on their mama too and drink some water for me?” With your hand behind his head, you slowly guided him to his mountain of pillows. “Just a bit, okay?” He gave no answer. His palm continued to caress your bump. You wondered if he would still be so affectionate once he realized you weren’t alone in the room.

With one hand raising his head slightly, the other tipped the cup to lips. He didn’t drink as much as you’d hoped but it was something. His eyes were closed but his fingers remained steady, curling and straightening over where you could feel the ripples of movement. It was as if they could sense one another. Daryl was calm, only the cough moving him at all. The baby’s movements were gentle waves below his hand.

You didn’t dare move, allowing him the comfort he likely didn’t even know he was seeking. If you were being honest, you were relaxing a little as well. With a sigh, both tired and contented, you slouched but stayed next to him.

“Is he okay?” You asked, finally rolling your head toward the others. Beth and Carol were getting Hershel to his feet, Lori pacing behind them with an expression you just didn’t like.

“I’m perfectly fine.” The man answered for himself, patting Beth’s hand so that she would release him.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, risking placing your hand over Daryl’s. When his fingers went still, you gently guided his palm back and forth over your belly.

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. I should have been more—”

“He’s going to seriously hurt one of us.” Lori interjected, continuing her pacing. You shot her a warning look, eyes narrowing when she shook her head. “I understand this is out of his control, but this is Daryl and out of all of us, he’s hardwired for violence.”

“Lori, you should go.” You spoke quietly, not willing to disrupt any rest the archer might be getting. You could only pray that he hadn’t heard her careless comment.

“We should just take shifts to come check in on him. You could rest and eat, we’d probably hear him cou—”

“Are you seriously suggesting I leave him alone up here?” Where the anger was coming from, you had no idea. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the concern for Daryl that was constantly eating at you. It hardly mattered, you’d made it clear that she was crossing a line. Your tone was dripping with venom. “Carol.” You beckoned, eyes remaining on Rick’s wife. “Please, take Lori downstairs before I say or do something I would definitely regret.”

“Come on, Lori.” You heard Carol say quietly, a heated glare continuing between you and the other woman as she was led from the room. Once the door closed, your anger dissolved as quickly as it had materialized. “Beth—Hershel, you know—”

“We know he’d never hurt any of us on purpose.” The girl said in that sweet southern tone of hers. “You neither.”

“Having two expectant mothers in one room with enough charged energy was just asking for an explosion of some sort. Now don’t you stress yourself over it any further.” As he neared, Hershel squeezed your shoulder. “Think you might be able to keep him from becoming agitated long enough for me to take a listen?” He lifted the stethoscope.

You nodded with a sniffle, wiping away a tear. “Yeah. If you can go around, I have an idea.” The old man rounded the bed while you crawled up beside Daryl, gently pulling him onto his side and against your chest. Once situated, you pulled his hand back onto your belly, and though he didn’t move it, you felt him relax a little further into you. “Daryl.” You whispered into his hair. “Hershel’s gonna listen to your lungs. The stethoscope is gonna be cold but your skin is hot from the fever. I’m right here. And it’s just Hershel.”

You carded your fingers through his hair while Beth leaned over you to clean the cut on your cheek, hands just as gentle as her father’s. There wasn’t so much as a flinch when the cold instrument pressed against the archer’s back. You paid attention to the his reactions—or lack thereof—but you also watched Hershel and the way his expression fell. It was then you knew he would tell you nothing good.

“His right lung is full of fluid. It’s hindering his ability to breathe normally. The cough is still productive?” You nodded slowly. “May I see?” Well, that was disgusting but Beth carefully pinched one edge of a cloth and carried it to Hershel. You didn’t care to have that ick on your fingers.

Your attention turned back to Daryl, his weight heavy on your side, chest rattling, cheeks flushed, and lips pale. When would the group be back? Were they okay? Should you plan to leave?

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You didn’t look up from stroking the archer’s cheek until your name was said again. The expression you were met with was grim. You had your concerns about the pink frothy liquid that accompanied the mucus. Fuck. You should have told Hershel immediately. “What is it?”

“If I don’t do something about the fluid in his lung, it is possible he may—for lack of a better term—drown.”

“When they get back—” He cut you off with a shake of his head.

“This can’t wait that long. We don’t know if—we’re not sure when they’ll return. I need to see if I have anything that I can use. What we were able to grab from the farm was extremely limited and even that has been cut in half with being on the road.” Hershel was mentally running through inventory as he began to leave the room with his daughter in tow, turning but not meeting your eyes. “I’ll need him awake for this.”

Start waking him up now. That’s what he meant. You were horrified. You had no idea how to thoroughly explain to Daryl what was going to happen, because you didn’t know. Why did he need to be awake? ‘Oh, you’re going to drown slowly if we don’t do this now.’ How badly would it hurt?

“There’s a—time an’ place—to be pullin’ on—a man’s hair an’ this—ain’t it.”

You sputtered out apologies and let go immediately. “I didn’t even realize—I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t even looking at you, half lidded eyes blinking slowly and staring toward the wall. Your tight grip returned but this time on his bicep, pulling him more snugly into your side but easing when he buried his face against your sweater to cough. Gross, but what could you do? “Daryl. Do you think you could try to—”

“Heard the—the old man. M’awake.”

The two of you laid in silence, not necessarily uncomfortable but with the looming fear of what was to come and if could even possibly help him. Your fingers ran a trail up and down his arm while his hand splayed out over your belly, eventually sliding around to your side to shift you toward him. Face to face, you could now clearly see the exhaustion, the way the illness was slowly tearing him down, and the resignation in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” The words slipped from your tongue unbidden, and though his expression didn’t change, he brought a fiercely trembling hand to your cheek, hot against your skin.

“Me too.” The admission shocked you to your core. Daryl always strived to be strong for everyone. Hell, it was what led him to his current position in the first place, trudging on while ill just to make sure you and the group—mostly you—were fed. “Didn’t fall.” His thumb barely brushed the bruised cut on your cheek. “M’so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He opened his mouth, presumably to speak but quickly turned his face into the pillow to cough harshly, the force rocking his body hard enough to jar your own. You twisted to reach for a cloth, shushing him when his hold grew tighter, openly displaying his discontent at the thought of you moving away.

With gentle swipes, you wiped his face and then the pillow, folding the fabric before laying it above your heads for easy access.

“I don’t wanna do this without you. Thumper needs their daddy. And,” you swallowed, face crumbling and tears stinging your waterline, “I need their daddy too.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Why the hell was he comforting you when he was the one being ravaged by an illness that would have been easily remedied in the old world? You really were weak, dependent. Where was the headstrong woman that had shown no fear on her own during the first days of the turn? “Stop—stop lookin’ at me—like m’already dead.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling away abruptly to cover a fit of barking coughs that left him groaning, face lined with pain while he gasped and heaved to catch his breath.

You had no chance to offer him any sort of comfort before there came a knock and Hershel entered, Carol at his heels. “We have what we need. Well, what can be used in place of what we need.” He held some sort of thin tubing, a syringe, and a plastic mixing bowl, while Carol carried a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, some gauze, tape, and a knife. Even with your wide eyes displaying a naked fear, Daryl never turned to look. “Is he awake?”

“Get it—get on with it.” He grumbled, weak but to the point.

Hershel merely shook his head with that fond smile he had developed toward your group since the farm. “Carol, could you sanitize the knife?” Seeing her pour a portion of the liquid over the blade made your stomach turn, or maybe it was your own illness rearing its ugly head to take advantage of your weakened state. Regardless, you looked away, finding Daryl’s eyes on your own. “First, I’ll need to find the right spot. You’ll have to be completely still for this, son.”

“Yeah, okay. Got—got it.” The archer wheezed. In your peripheral, you could see the veterinarian’s arm moving, pressing and counting the ribs in search of the correct site. Daryl was rigid, his eyes squinted but remaining open and focused on you with the occasional flitting down to where your swollen belly pressed against him. His hand fisted into the fabric of your sweater on your hip.

“Okay, I’m going to—”

“Just do—just do it for christ sake.”

The old man was still behind him for a moment, long enough to draw your gaze to his. He nodded, a silent request for you to do what you could to keep Daryl still and compliant. Drawing your eyes back to the dull blue that was watching you with such intensity that you felt crushed under the weight, well, that must have been enough for Hershel to continue.

Daryl made a noise in the back of his throat, the slightest spasm of pain indicating that the knife had pierced his skin. Hershel and Carol were moving behind Daryl, communicating through whispers and gestures while you felt Daryl’s arm begin to shake, your sweater pulling tight against your body.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good, Daryl.”

His eyes suddenly clamped shut, your sweater rising away from your hip when he twisted his fist. The seconds felt like minutes that felt like hours of watching him tremble with fever, weakness, and restraint. Finally, there came the blessed sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the plastic bowl.

“Catheter is in place as best I can tell. We’re getting fluid. Don’t hold your breath, son. Nice and slow.”

You could tell he was trying, each breath a wheeze laced with pain. Slowly, you moved your hand from his arm to his face, just brushing your fingers over the stubble on his cheek. “We need to start thinking of names, you know. Thumper is cute but the baby isn’t a rabbit even though they feel like one sometimes.” Daryl’s eyes opened, tears pricking at the pinched corners. You knew he couldn’t answer you and so did he, probably couldn’t even if he tried. “I try to picture what they may look like. I hope they look like you, big blue eyes and maybe even a permanent scowl so that when they smile, it’ll be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen.” You thumbed away a tear that escaped down across the bridge of his nose toward the other eye.

When his throat spasmed, you thought maybe he was going to be sick but then he began to cough, loud and agonizing and dry. Your wide eyes found Hershel’s, the calm in the old man’s gaze fizzling out your terror.

“It’s okay. Just keep him still. The coughing forces out more fluid. It’s almost over.”

As painful as it was for Daryl, it was agonizing for you to watch him suffer with no way to help him. “It’s almost done. You’re doing great. Stay still and stay awake. Can you look at me?” He answered with the smallest of nods, an almost imperceptible movement. Carol moved closer to Hershel. It was torture to not know what they were doing out of your sight but at the same time, an immense relief. The zip of tape being pulled and torn was surely a sign of the procedure coming to an end.

But it was when Daryl drew in the deepest breath you had heard in two days that you felt yourself relax, truly and utterly just drain of tension, placing your forehead against his. “It’s over. Just rest now.” You focused on his even breaths, just the slightest wheeze, the barely audible rattle. He was limp against you, his hand still tangled in your sweater but no longer holding on. The archer was exhausted and sleep had claimed him almost instantly.

“Hershel?” You need not ask anything. He knew.

“It won’t last long, but it buys us some time. The incision was deep but small. I will examine him in a little while, make sure it stays clean. In the meantime, listen for any struggles with breathing. Let him rest.”

You nodded, your forehead brushing against Daryl’s. The used supplies had been gathered and the old man had already made his way downstairs. You caught Carol’s eye as she started to close the door.

“An hour.” You stated flatly.

“What?” The other woman stepped back into the room, her brow drawn.

“I’m giving them one hour. If they’re not back, I want the list and I’m going. There won’t be a discussion.” No room for argument. “You sit with him while I’m gone. You’re the only other person he really trusts.” She looked as if she might object, but when her shoulders relaxed, you knew you’d won. With a nod, she left the room.

Without Daryl’s desperate attempts to breathe, it was so quiet, a sound you welcomed and reveled in so deeply. Hershel had opened a doorway and you’d be damned if you’d let it close. Moving your arm below his to wrap around him, low on his back to avoid the incision, you used the leverage to pull yourself as close to him as you could with baby Dixon barring the way. The archer didn’t stir. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you felt the fever still burning hot, only fueling your determination to get what he needed if the group failed to return.

“I don’t care what you say or what you think. I don’t care why you think I shouldn’t.” You spoke softly, a near whisper. “I love you. And I am not losing you.”

Of course you had fallen asleep. Daryl was resting comfortably, albeit still feverish. You were cozy beside him. You felt safe while simultaneously feeling like you were guarding him. It had been more than an hour, that much was certain. Hershel hadn’t given a timeframe regarding how long the treatment would help Daryl and you were taking no chances. It was time to take things into your own hands.

As fate would have it, just as you began to disentangle yourself from Daryl, there were frantic footsteps on the stairs. Fuck. Daryl was too weak to move if walkers had wandered into the area. The door burst open without a knock, revealing a breathless blonde teenager wearing a brilliant smile.

“They’re back!”

You stared. It was all you could do, your voice had seemingly decided it was in just as much shock as you were. Besides, she had already disappeared, leaving the door wide open. A sob worked its way up your throat but you blocked it with your teeth, looking down at Daryl as he slept.

He would be okay.

The glare you had fixed on Hershel settled the maybe you should wait outside argument rather quickly. You weren’t leaving Daryl to be manhandled should he wake up confused.

A herd had blocked their direct path back. Of course one had. Because the world was cruel and unforgiving and the dead were always hungry and always looking for a life to take.

Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were bringing up supplies while Maggie assisted her father with Daryl’s care. An IV was started immediately, after carefully searching for the perfect vein due to his state of dehydration. They didn’t have the cannulas to waste. Fluids were started right along with a bag of something called Azithromycin—an antibiotic, Hershel had said. They had scored several bags of each, along with a few other things that could be used for injuries or illnesses. But when they brought up the oxygen tanks, you could have sobbed.

The nasal cannula placement was what finally woke Daryl, bloodshot eyes scanning the room before you saw the first signs of panic. “Ssh. It’s okay.” You slid your hand under his and squeezed his fingers softly. “They’re back. Just let Hershal do his thing, okay? And then I’ll chase them all out. I promise.”

You were so relieved to see his usual scowl shift into place, even if it was somewhat diminished. “Fine.” He rasped.

“Good. Now, since I have your attention—don’t touch that—” you swatted his hand away from the cannula, “take these pills.” Hershel wanted around the clock alternation of acetaminophen and ibuprofen every four hours to get the fever under control.

With an utterance of something containing the word bossy he let you place the pills on his palm and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry while you sat there offering a glass of water. There was a look shared between you that would have been amusing had either you had the energy to laugh. “Thanks.” He whispered, his hand shaking when he accepted the water. He only took a couple of sips but you wouldn’t hound him just yet. The fluids were going and he likely would take a while to feel like doing much of anything.

“We’ve done everything we can do for now. Just need to keep an eye on those bags and hang new ones when they’re empty. Keep giving the fever reducers and, son, try to drink when you feel like. The sooner you’re taking in fluids on your own, the better.”

“Leave that oxygen right where it is too.” Maggie added in a no-nonsense tone.

Daryl’s nod was sluggish, his chin almost staying on his chest during the gesture. The commotion, everyone moving, even while he did nothing more than take a couple of pills, had left him running on fumes. As promised, you were up, hand on your lower back to rub away the ache there as you used the other to shoo everyone out of the room.

Absolutely nothing was stopping you from crawling under those sheets with him and sleeping for four glorious hours. You had asked Carol to keep an eye on that. Thank heavens he was lying in the middle of the bed. The side with the IV needed to be avoided.

Actually lying down with the intention to sleep, knowing Daryl was receiving the help he needed, you were just done for, already drifting off and somewhere between awake and asleep when you felt Daryl’s knuckles brush against yours. You took his hand without a second thought.

“Are you sure about this?” Carol asked, standing with you in the doorway of the bedroom. She was nervously glancing back and forth between you and Daryl. Aside from a few bouts of those harsh, barking coughs, he had slept the entire four hours and barely woke enough to choke down the pills before being pulled right back under.

“I’m sure.” You secured your knife in the sheath on your thigh and wiggled Daryl’s gun holster a little to the side so it wasn’t gouging into the bottom of your belly. Your rifle was long gone and you weren’t about to alert anyone else to your plans by choosing a different weapon. So with both your bag and Daryl’s crossbow on your back, you were ready to head out.

“You don’t have anything to prove, Y/N. We’ve lived off less. There’s a little jerky left and we have some cans—”

“I’ll be fine, Carol. I’m only going to be a few hours and hunt small game. If I happen across a doe that I can lift, I’ll take that chance, otherwise, it’ll be squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, or opossums. Yum.”

“What do I tell him if he wakes up and asks for you?” She shifted nervously.

“The truth. We don’t lie. If he tries to come after me, knock him out or barricade the door.”

She followed you to the top of the stairs but not down, staying close to Daryl as she had promised. “You really don’t need to go.”

“I do. I’m the only other hunter in this group. I won’t have him trying to go out sooner than he’s ready to make sure there’s enough.” You paused on the bottom step, staring at the door and then toward the kitchen where everyone else was gathered. Chewing your bottom lip, you climbed up two more so she could hear you without alerting the rest. “If I’m not back before his next dose, I’m headed west. That’s where they can look.”

Carol looked so stricken and unsure so you offered her a smile, as she always did for you. Finally, she conceded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon angst #daryl angst #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #pregnant!reader #sick!daryl dixon

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 2) / Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 16.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: part two!! thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the sweet, lovely feedback i got on part one, i was so happy you enjoyed the opening chapter!! this part gives some more backstory on reader+bradley, and i hope you like it just as much as you did the first! once more i'd love to hear your thoughts, thank you to everyone who said something wonderful and kind about the first part, it meant a lot to me. <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Instead of your alarm, you wake up to a call from Carole. It’s 7:29, and when you raise the phone to your ear, your voice is gruff and achy with sleep.

“Hello?”

It feels just like yesterday. Yesterday, that comes flooding back to you in a barrage of awful memories. All that’s changed is the bed you’re in; you’re still alone. You almost miss Carole’s response because you’re slowly taking in everything that hits you like an anvil from above, but you catch the last word and can discern her meaning.

“-visit?”

“Yeah,” You rub your eyes, feeling tears already gathered there; a great way to start your morning.

“Yeah, I’ll visit,” You confirm, and your alarm buzzes against your head. You hastily shut it off and yawn, only inducing more tears and sighing as you speak again, “I’m gonna run to the store real quick, get some stuff for cookies. He convinced me to sneak them in.”

“That boy,” Carole huffs, and even half-asleep, you hear her voice laced with fondness for her son, “Alright honey. How y’doin’?”

“Um,” You ponder, truly unsure as your fingers pick at a stray thread on the blanket; you’d been meaning to replace it for months. “Okay. Not okay, but not- not as bad as yesterday. I think-” You swallow, throat convulsing, “I think I love lying to him if it means I have him back.”

She’s silent for a moment, letting your words sink into your own brain. You feel guilty for them, just like you feel guilty for leading Bradley on, pretending nothing is wrong when your entire lives have fallen apart. But she eventually responds with all of the kindness and love she has inside of her, which is a lot.

“I know, baby. And it’s okay, it’ll get better. It’ll turn out right.”

“I hope so,” You breathe shakily, wishing either her or your boyfriend (pretend boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?) were there to rub soothing circles into your back.

“I know so.” She promises, and she’s never promised something she couldn’t guarantee. You hope this isn’t her first strike, because her never-ending optimism miraculously lifts your dreary spirits until your chest doesn’t ache with a sob begging to break free. “Alright, baby doll, I’ll let’cha get to baking. I’m gonna see if they’ll let me sneak in early, I- Oh! Nurse,” She calls away from the phone, and you hear her move on the other end, no doubt chasing down a poor nurse that doesn’t want to get fired for letting her in before visiting hours. You hang up the call with a snort, fond of how her fierce love for those around her hasn’t faded in all the time you’ve known her.

Pulling yourself out of bed is hard, but you do it for Bradley. You’re sluggish as you traipse to the bathroom, using deodorant in place of a shower and brushing your hair back into a ponytail. Showers are for people who have the luxury of time, you need to bake fast, and get over there to see if Bradley wakes up remembering anything new- er, old. You hope that he doesn’t, and then you hope that doesn’t make you a bad person.

One of the things you love about the place you’d shared with Bradley is that it’s close to a shopping center with a grocery store. It means that you walk to the supermarket, sandals on your feet and ratty, day-old clothes still on. No one seems to mind when you grab a basket looking like you’ve risen from the dead, and you collect the ingredients for Bradley’s favorite cookies with a skillful, experienced hand. You haven’t paid for anything by card in a while, you’d used emergency cash for the motel, and you wonder if you’ve been locked out of your joint bank account. Probably not; if the state of Bradley’s place had been any indication, he wants you back. But you’re cautious using the card anyways, in case a big red screen comes to life on the monitor in front of you and tells you you’re a terrible girlfriend. Almost a terrible wife.

You’re glad that you don’t run into any of your neighbors on the walk back home, because you don’t want to explain why you look the way you do, nor do you want to burst into tears when they ask where Bradley and his car are. You keep your head down and avoid the trike on the front walkway, ducking back into the house without being spotted.

Firing up the oven feels heavenly, maybe because you’ve been eating scraps of motel food for two weeks. It reminds you of all the times you’ve baked with Bradley, or, more like the times you’ve baked while Bradley steals pinches of sugar from the bowl or tries to lick the beater when there’s raw egg in the mixture, resulting in more batter in his mustache than in his mouth while you try wrestling the spatula out of his grip.

You go through the oatmeal raisin motions absentmindedly; a master at your craft. It frees up brainpower to reminisce, and you sort through a mental file cabinet to find your favorite memory of baking with Bradley.

“I want to try the vanilla,” Bradley reaches for the teaspoon in your hands, and you jerk it away, thankful that it isn’t full of the brown liquid yet.

“Absolutely not,” You laugh, “Brad, it’s gross by itself. It’s like eating straight cocoa powder, it’s meant to be mixed in with something.”

He pouts, he actually pouts, a man of 36. The expression has his mustache hanging over his lower lip and you can’t help but giggle at it, leaning in to kiss the prickly hair on his face.

“You’ll have a cookie to eat soon,” You promise him, dumping a teaspoon of vanilla extract into the mixing bowl. He plays satisfied with your answer, but when you turn your back to fold the mixture in on itself with a spatula, you hear rustling behind you, then the click of a cap, and a muffled gag.

“I told you,” Your voice is sing-song-y, and you turn amusedly to watch Bradley duck under the sink’s faucet, rinsing his mouth out of the bitter taste. He’s scowling when he comes back up for air, water dripping from his mustache as he crosses his arms.

“I thought it would be good.” He mutters, and you nod, humming as a bit of batter smears over your thumb from the spatula.

“That’s because you didn’t listen to me,” You lament, “I know everything, Brad. You should just listen to me, always.”

“Oh yeah? Alright, share some wisdom with me, Almighty One,” He teases, pushing off of the counter to join you at your own, “What should I do?”

He moves with his arms crossed, standing just close enough that you know the only answer you can give.

“Mm,” You pretend to deliberate, really leaning into it with a few contemplative taps at your chin, “Kiss me.”

He gasps dramatically, which is the way that he does most things, “Excellent idea. You really do know everything.”

“Mhm,” You nod, craning your neck up as Bradley leans down to kiss you, “I told you. Listen to me all the time.”

“I will,” He promises, “Quick, tell me we should have sex.”

“Bradley!” You gawp, an incredulous laugh oozing out from your chest, leaving behind a snail trail of joy, “You’re insatiable! We’ve already gone twice today.”

“Mm, can’t help it,” He tsks, backing you into the counter and kissing you once more. His lips press firmly to yours, his hands at your waist caging you into his embrace, “Honey, you taste much sweeter than that vanilla shit.”

When you come to, you’re putting the cookies in the oven. You’re alarmed at how zoned out you’d been, but evidently you hadn’t burned the place down, and you shut the oven door, setting a timer on the microwave. You tackle the dishes next, using the time that the cookies bake to tidy up your work station. The dough comes easily off of the mixing bowl and the melted butter drips over your fingers before you scrub it away, still slightly warm from the microwave. There’s only a few plates in the sink that you hadn’t dirtied, and you wonder if Bradley had washed and dried dishes while you were away. Or maybe this was it, four plates of food in two weeks. You’d been treating yourself that way, but it’s heartbreaking to know Bradley had, too.

You try warding off your incoming bout of sniffles by retreating back to your bedroom, choosing a new outfit to wear to the hospital. If you show up in the same thing, Bradley might worry about you, and you don’t want him thinking you were too sluggish to pull yourself together for him. You’re hurt, wounded and scarred with lashes over your heart, but he’s the one with the broken ribs and the lost memories, so you need to play the part of the strong one; the uninjured one.

He can’t know you’re hurting in case he asks why.

Your shower is quick, and you try not to think about Bradley in case you succumb to the urge to cry. Of course, it’s impossible to chase the thoughts from your head, and the feeling of your fingers scratching shampoo through your scalp turns into the feeling of Bradley’s. The hand that slides down your side suddenly isn’t your own anymore, it’s a memory of his. A ghost of him, a whisper against your skin of ‘I promise, baby. You won't lose me’.

You hope more than anything that promise stays true.

You get yourself ready to go with more zeal than you’ve felt in the past two weeks. You’re taking the bus today, to cut down on gas money, and you’re sure you’ll spend the whole time worrying. You’re nervous about seeing Bradley, but it’s a few minutes past eight-thirty and you’re sure if he’d regained his memories, Carole would have notified you. Beyond the nerves you’re almost excited to pretend to be his girlfriend again, excited to live in the fantasy life you’ve created to preserve his peace of mind. You never thought you’d love to lie to him.

You’re much more put together today when you greet the receptionist, and you're not sure you could forget the way to his room if you tried. There’s a bag of the oatmeal raisin cookies hidden in your purse and you slip into the room just as a doctor leans over him to take his temperature.

You adore the way Bradley smiles at you. His eyes meet yours as you stand in the doorway, previously cautious and now elated that he seems to like you still. His face lights up and he calls, ‘Baby,’ alerting the nurse to your presence.

“Miss Mitchell!” The woman greets you, the one who’d brought Bradley’s dinner last night.

“Hi,” You gush, a laugh bubbling up in your chest that’s made of pure elation. It’s a sickly sweet sound, one that you thought you’d never be able to make again after leaving Bradley. You rush to kiss him when the nurse leans away, scribbling down his temperature on his chart.

He lifts his hand to cup your cheek when you kiss him and the tears that line your eyes are happy ones; there’s still time. There’s still time to soak in his love before he remembers, there’s still time to lose yourself in this fantasy.

You take a moment to breathe after the kiss, doing so against his lips. He does the same, and you bask in each other’s presence, noses brushing and foreheads pressed together. Skin-on-skin, love-on-love.

“His heartbeat really did speed up,” Carole marvels, and you scramble to greet her, guilty that she’d slipped your mind in the rush of emotions you felt.

“Hi! Hi, sorry,” You stammer, wrapping her in a hug while she waves away your apologies.

“No worries, baby!” She squeezes your shoulders, beaming at you. You’re sure she’s thrilled you showed up, and you know Bradley is too from the way he grabs for your hand when you sit by his bed. He’s always been a touchy guy, his hands are never idle, but he’s never been quite this clingy before. It’s good, it helps ground you, and it’s what you need after a two-week bender in a motel.

“Brad,” You coo, unable to resist kissing him again when he turns his head to face you in the bed. He looks more comfortable today than he had yesterday, no more breathing tube or pale skin. There’s dark circles under his eyes, but you’re sure he’s still shaken up from the crash, and you’ll make sure he gets to sleep nice and early tonight.

If you’re able to.

Once you’ve kissed him you dot smaller ones across his face, heart soaring at the gentle laughter that spills from his lips as you do so. You kiss his nose, his cheeks, his chin, the space beside his eyes that’s wrinkled from years of laughter, and when his pretty brown eyes flutter shut, you go for the eyelids, too. You savor each one because you know it could be your last, and when he strokes the back of his hand along your cheek, you lean into the touch.

“Pretty girl,” He hums, and you feel your cheeks get hot. Newly showered, you felt more put-together than you’d been before, but you’d spent the past two weeks in a pigsty of your own creation, so the compliment means more than he knows.

Apparently, he feels your cheeks grow hot, too. His fingers pick up on the warmth and he laughs again, this time only a normal amount of raspiness clinging to the sound., He’s hyper-affectionate, taking his chance to dot kisses over your features for a change. The giddiness in your chest as his lips press to your skin, mustache prickling it, makes it feel like your heart will burst. You feel undeserving as he showers you with the affection you’ve missed so much, but you’re greedy so you take it anyways, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Carole was taking pictures of you in secret.

“I have some good news,” The nurse reports, and you turn at her voice. She’s angled towards Carole, obviously having meant to leave you and Bradley be in your couple’s reverie, but when she notices that she has your attention too, she speaks to the group.

“Nothing abnormal was documented during your stay here,” She reads off of her chart, “It’s just the concussion and the broken ribs, which is remarkable for the accident you were in. You’re very lucky, Mr. Bradshaw. There was some smoke inhalation from the crash site but that’s not a major issue anymore, and if everything remains stable until dinnertime, you can go home tonight.”

“Oh!” Carole squeals, clapping delicately with her hands in her lap, “That’s fantastic!’

Bradley seems equally pleased, smiling wide, and it takes a lot of willpower to mirror his expression. He knocks his nose into your cheek and you feel his grin against your jaw, so you bring a hand up to scrub through the hair at the back of his neck.

“That’s great,” You conclude weakly, blaming the lull in your voice on being so close to Bradley and not wanting to talk too loud. Carole eyes you nervously, though, trying to mask the worry in her eyes with a smile.

“You should still rest,” The nurse advises, “Those ribs won’t be healed for close to a month, maybe more. And you can sleep through most of the concussion, too. What’s good about going home is it’ll be familiar to you, and it might help trigger those memories you’ve lost. They’re still not back?”

“Nope,” Bradley shakes his head, keeping it pressed to yours, “I got nothin’.”

“Alright,” The nurse hums sympathetically, tucking the chart into a cubby by the door, “We’ll bring lunch at around one, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Thank you!” Carole calls after the nurse as she leaves, then she stands in her flowy skirt, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

“Miss Y/N,” She beams, “Bradley’s already had his breakfast. Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no,” You shake your head, “Not yet. Are you going to get something?”

“I am,” She nods, shouldering her purse, “Would you like some hospital pancakes, baby doll?”

“Here,” You stand, but Bradley grabs your hand, keeping you close to his bedside, “I can-”

“You can sit down,” Carole narrows her eyes at you, teasingly menacing, “Sit your butt back in that chair and be with your boyfriend, honey! I can manage two to-go boxes.”

“Thank you,” You gush, settling back into your seat and squeezing Bradley’s hand. He doesn’t let up on his heavy grip until you’re planted in your seat, and even when he does loosen his fingers he still holds you. Carole winks at you when you leave, and Bradley’s attention is solely on you the second the door shuts.

“Y/N,” He murmurs, and sometimes you forget your name isn’t baby or honey around him. You turn, now a little more nervous to be there now that your buffer is gone.

His big brown eyes are oozing their signature sweetness, a golden glint in them under the lights of the hospital room. He looks healthier now, even though you know his ribs hurt, and you’re oh-so-happy to have your Bradley back.

“I missed you,” You confess, and his face breaks into a grin. He nods, leaning up to kiss you, and you close the gap so that he doesn’t have to strain his probably sore muscles.

“I missed you, too,” He breathes, and you kiss him over and over and over again until you think you might be stealing the breath from his lungs. You let up, if only to keep him healthy, otherwise you’d never stop.

“I wasn’t sure when you were coming,” His lips close momentarily around your lower one while yours frame his top in a sweet peck.

“The cookies needed time to bake,” You lament, your mouth slightly dewy from his kiss, “Sorry, babe. I would have come faster, I- I should have gotten up earlier, but-”

“You’re here now,” He cuts off your worries, the heated skin of his face pressing against yours like he’s trying to stick to you, “That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah?” You hum dazedly, drunk on his love, “What about the cookies, do those matter?”

His eyes widen in consideration and he tilts his head to the side, mouth scrunching in a thoughtful frown, “Yeah, those matter too. Oatmeal raisin?”

“Oatmeal raisin,” You promise, digging through your purse, “Are you still on the hospital diet?”

“Honey,” He declares, sounding like his father's son as pride prickles his mustache, “I’d eat your cookies even if they killed me. Lay one on me, sugar.”

You snort at his cocky drawl, withdrawing a cookie from the bag in your purse. You break a piece off, hand-feeding him like his arms are still weak.

“Speaking of sugar,” You muse, stealing a bite of the treat for yourself and speaking with it pinched between your teeth, “I was thinking about baking together earlier. It was awful being alone, there was no one to eat the sugar out of the bowl.”

“Or drink the vanilla extract,” He cracks, and you laugh with glee.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking of!” You gush, taking his hand once more and squeezing it, “You gagged.”

“I don’t know! I just thought it’d taste good! I love vanilla,” He laments, only fuelling more laughter from you.

“Yeah, well you got a lot of it,” You chuckle, “Anyways, it was weird not having you there. I had to do the dishes all by myself.”

“Poor baby,” He croons, half sincere and half teasing. He strokes a hand down your cheek that you yearn to kiss, but it goes by too fast, “How’d you manage?”

“I thought about you,” You confess, and some of that amusement in his eyes dims, giving way to complete and total admiration.

“Yeah?” He breathes, incredulous like he's twelve and he can’t believe his crush actually likes him. He’s always had that sort of puppyish aura about him, like you’re not just his girlfriend, you’re his best friend, and he’s always happy you’re along for the ride. It’s probably why he holds your hand so frequently, like he is now.

“Yeah,” You nod, flipping his palm in yours and tracing over the lines etched into it, “It’s not home there without you, Brad.”

“We go back tonight,” He smiles, keeping his voice low so that it doesn’t shatter the serenity around you, “Together.” You notice a sheen of tears over his eyes and you fall in love with him all over again, unable to hold yourself back from admiring how much he loves you. You really, really don’t know how you fucked this up.

“Yeah,” You croak, smiling weakly down at his hand instead of into his eyes, “Together.”

“Breakfast,” Carole sings, propping the door open with her foot as she steps inside. Your heads turn in sync, and you see her holding two plates, both covered with plastic lids. “Miss Y/N, three pancakes for you, and there’s syrup for days.”

“Thank you,” You rush to help her, and some piece of your heart stays in Bradley’s palm when you drop it. You suspect you won’t get it back unless he forgives you eventually, or maybe he’ll keep it even if he does. You trust him with it, he’ll take care of it.

You wish you'd offered him and his heart the same courtesy.

Carole hands you your breakfast and takes a seat on Bradley’s opposite side, caging him in between his two girls.

“You want some, baby?” Carole croons at Bradley, but he shakes his head.

“No thanks, ma,” He clears his throat, turning to face you with a puppy-eyed look that he’s had mastered since age three, “But I would love another bite of cookie?”

“Oh, take it,” You grumble, handing over the baked good for Bradley to devour, “But if your blood sugar rises, or something, it’s not my fault.”

“Won’t tell a soul,” Bradley promises, a mouthful of oatmeal raisin already impairing his speech, “Thanks, honey.”

“Mm-hm,” You nod, your mouth similarly stuffed with food. The pancakes are good, considering they came from a cafeteria that also serves tuna and jell-o.

“Y/N, baby,” Carole calls just as much sugar in her voice as is in her breakfast, “Pass me that syrup?”

She’s asking for a container you’ve got in your hand, half-empty. She doesn’t want to open a new one and waste the contents, so you pass it over, but a drizzle drips off of the side and lands on Bradley’s chin.

He rears his head back as it falls, but he can’t burrow far enough into the pillow to dodge it. You squeal through your mouthful, swallowing quickly and painfully to rush out an apology you’re sure he doesn’t care about receiving.

“Sorry, Brad.” You curse your clumsiness, grabbing for a napkin but getting a better idea instead. You stand and lean over him to kiss the syrup off of his chin, feeling his face split into a grin while your lips are still attached to it. You can't keep a smile off of your face either, licking your lips clean of the stickiness.

“Cuties!” Carole giggles, just as giddy of a grin on her face as is on yours and Bradley’s. You’re sure she’s ecstatic to see you getting along so well, glad to know your acting isn’t just that.

“I was telling Bradley earlier,” You speak disjointedly through a mouthful of syrupy pancakes, “When I was baking his cookies, I was thinking about the times we’ve baked together. Wanna tell’er what you did, Brad?”

“Oh,” He groans, “No. Not fair, baby, I’m bed-ridden. I’m dying,” He sticks a protective hand over his ribs, now magically unable to lift his head from the pillow, “You can’t tell embarrassing stories of me to my mom.”

“I didn’t! I offered you the chance to tell it,” You roll your eyes, wary as you hear a nurse pass by the door. Bradley’s cookie is in plain sight, and he stuffs it into his mouth for safekeeping as the footsteps pass. No one comes in, though, and he struggles to finish his mouthful.

“Oh,” Carol gushes, “Somebody tell me! I wanna know, y’know I love teasin’ you, Brad.”

“Mom!’ He gawps through a mouthful of oatmeal, “Rude!”

“What’s rude is talkin’ with your mouth full,” Carole scolds, swatting him on the shoulder, “Swallow first, mister.”

“He ate-” You start, but Bradley lunges for you with impressive agility, twisting his torso to the side to clamp a hand over your mouth. You laugh, long and loud and brash while Bradley tries to muffle it. In his haste to silence you he tries saying ‘No!’ but he’s still got a mouthful of cookie, and the crumbs that don’t get caught in his mustache rain over your legs.

You’re still laughing. It’s messy, it’s gross, there’s half-chewed cookie on your lap, but Bradley’s holding you close, his strong arms around your head while he keeps a tight grip on your mouth. He’s laughing too, chest shaking as he tries powering through the mouthful of food that he’s got. Finally he swallows, but he doesn’t let go, only blows fruitlessly at the crumbs littering your pants.

“I’m sorry,” He pants, short of breath from chuckling, “If you hadn’t been so hellbent on embarrassing me, I wouldn’t have spewed raisins into your pancakes.”

“Gross! Okay!” You laugh uncontrollably into his palm between giggles, kissing at the skin there, “Okay. You win.”

He lets up only when you stop struggling, letting yourself sink into his embrace no matter how uncomfortable. A thought prods at the back of your mind like a lightning rod, sending a jolt of pain down your spine when it reminds you that this isn’t real. But you push it away, you don’t let it paralyze you, and your smile never falls.

“I’m sorry,” You hum to Bradley, while Carole watches you with amusement dancing in her pretty eyes, as well as in her movie star smile, “I just thought your mom would have liked to hear. That’s all.”

“She would,” Bradley nods, leaning back in his bed, finally at ease, “That’s why you can’t tell her.”

“You’re no fun,” She groans, and you finish up the last of your pancakes, gathering all of the trash (and cookie crumbs) to put them in the can. You have to let go of Bradley’s hand to make it across the room but when you’re by the door you stay there, your boyfriend’s eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You reach for the doorknob, then, while he can't reach you, “Carole, he ate vanilla extract.”

The nurse down the hall gives you a strange look as you rush to shut the door on both Bradley’s indignant shout and Carole’s gleeful giggles.

“Does he need help?” He looks at you skeptically, and you shake your head.

“We’re teasing him,” You brush the nurse’s concerns away, “Where’s the gift shop?”

True to your word, you stop by the bathroom, but your real destination is the gift shop. There’s a stuffed bear inside with fur the exact caramel shade of Bradley’s hair, and you only wish it had a mustache. Otherwise, it’s identical, flight gear on and aviators over its eyes.

“Hi,” You greet the cashier at the counter, handing over the bear and a book you plan on reading to him in your downtime, “Just these.”

While she rings up your purchase you hear the sliding doors behind you open, and you turn to see your dad and Nick enter. Their faces light up at the sight of you, and when the cashier gives you back the bear, you show it off to them.

“Just gotta get it a mustache,” Nick tugs softly on one of the bear’s ears, “Now that’s a good lookin’ bear!”

“I was gonna get’im a movie to watch,” Your dad beelines for the DVDs, but you pull him back.

“Dad,” You murmur, walking him and Nick towards the door, “He can just use his phone. Everything here is way too expensive.” You throw a kind smile at the cashier like you hadn’t just insulted her trade, “Thank you!”, and lead the way back to Bradley’s room.

The elevator ride almost goes sour when Nick tries pushing all of the buttons at once. You’re not sure how Carole has survived living with him for this long, but you swat his hands away with an incredulous shout.

“Don’t! I wanna get these back to him,” You beg, bear and book in hand, “I’ll bet he’s so bored.”

“You seen him already?” Your dad raises a brow, and you nod.

“Carole’s there, too,” You hum, “We just finished breakfast.”

“Does he ‘member anything new?” Goose asks, and that little lightning rod comes back, tazing your brain, burning one word into the matter there; liar, liar, liar. All of a sudden the elevator is too small, and you’d rather be anywhere but.

“Nope,” You shake your head, turning to face the doors of the elevator that ding, “Nothing.”

“Bradley!” Nick cheers, seeing his son alive and well, “Made it through the night?”

“Barely. Spent more time on my phone than I did asleep,” Bradley scoffs, and your heart skips a beat, not in a good way. Again you wonder if he’s found mystifying evidence of your breakup, an unfollow on instagram or a deletion of date nights from the calendar.

You’re sure he would have brought something up if he was confused, but you’re sneaking around, and it makes you paranoid enough to believe everything will fall apart at a moment’s notice. You have no peace, not when Bradley isn’t holding you.

“Well you’re going home tonight,” Carole reminds him, stroking over his cheek fondly, “You’ll get some good rest there, Brad.”

“Hey, alright!” Your dad whoops, “They’re cuttin’ you loose?”

“After dinner,” Bradley nods, “They said if nothing weird happens I can leave.”

“Congrats, Brad.” Nick claps him on the shoulder, standing in front of the seat you’d abandoned to go get his gifts.

His gifts!

You fumble with the bag in your hands, pulling the bear out first and passing it over.

“Oh, baby,” Bradley laughs, admiring its miniscule flight gear, “Bear’s almost as handsome as me.”

“Nah, a little more.” Pete squints at it, “It doesn't have that ugly mustache.”

“Hey!”, Father and son rage in unison, and Nick slaps your dad’s arm hard enough for Bradley, too.

“Uh, Carole,” You murmur, but the soft sound catches Bradley’s attention anyways. He’s drawn to you like a fly to honey, stuck in every last drop of your sweetness.

“I need to ask your mom a favor,” You smile down at Bradley, brushing hair away from his eyes, “Can we slip out?”

“Okay,” He hums skeptically, “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” You drag your voice out dramatically, leaning down to peck at his forehead. His skin is warm to the touch, and feels comforting against your lips.

“We’ll keep’im busy,” Nick declares, taking the book that you hand him, “Want me to read to you, Brad?”

“No.”

“Too bad! Ooh, Little Women. Wanna do voices with me, Mav?”

You and Carole step out before Nick or your dad could pull out any high-pitched giggles, and Bradley’s mom looks at you worriedly.

“What is it, baby doll?”

“I need help,” You confess, “If Bradley’s coming home tonight, he’s gonna notice a hell of a lot of stuff missing from our place. I just took everything I could grab and I ran,” You recall, dry swallowing at the thought of the boxes piled into your motel room, “I can’t put everything back by myself, and I- I don’t want to force you to help, but my dad and NIck can’t know, and-”

“Slow down, sugar,” She hums, reaching out to rub a soothing hand up and down your arm, “I’ll help you. What do we got, clothes and shoes?”

“And books, and toiletries, and... puzzles.” You concede drearily.

“Baby,” Carole arches a brow, looking almost sympathetically at you, “You brought puzzles with you?”

“I thought I’d be bored!” You reason, shoulders stiff to your ears, “But I haven’t had much of an appetite for puzzling.”

“Alright, I’ll help you,” She promises, “How long are we gonna need, honey?”

“A few hours,” You shrug, “We can carpool to base, I’ll pick up his Bronco, and we can head to the motel I’ve been at to get my stuff. We’ll need the extra space in the back of his car.”

“Okay! Okay,” Carole gushes, and you think she’s almost a little exhilarated by this spy operative, “Let’s stay for lunch, then we’ll go. We’ll say- uh, the house needs cleaning!”

‘Perfect,” You rub at your temples, “Thanks, Carole. And- and we’ll buy party decorations,” You snap your fingers, “I told him we were out here talking about a surprise, so we’ll throw a little welcome home thing tomorrow, have cake or something. That’s our alibi.”

“Got it! I’m off to the bathroom,” She heads down the hallway, “Get back in there!”

“-told you, I’m Jo!” Your dad is standing squared to Nick, eyes narrowed and shoulders tight, “It’s not fair that you get to be everyone!”

“Well if you did the voices right, I wouldn’t have to take over everything,” Nick huffs, “Tell’im Brad, that was a shitty Beth impression!”

“Both of you suck,” Bradley drawls, his eyes tracking you intently as you slip back into the room, “Baby, you okay?”

You shake off any residual nerves from your scheming with Carole, nodding as light-heartedly as you can, “Yeah! Yeah, Brad,” You take your seat beside him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight, “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you. He's always good at reading you, and everything about you right now is a lie. You smile at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, but he doesn’t react like you want him to, he still doesn’t believe you. He studies you when you pull away, and you laugh in defeat, “I promise, I’m just exhausted from all of this. But that shouldn’t matter, I wasn’t the one whose jet crashed! As soon as we get you home I’ll be fine.”

That seems to work, clearing away the worry swirling in Bradley’s honey-colored eyes. He nods, smiling softly, “Yeah, me too.”

He takes your hand, and you’re starting to wonder how you’d ever survived without holding his. You hadn’t held hands this frequently even when you’d been together, not that Bradley knows there’s a difference. Your heart aches for the man beside you, how shaken up he must be to cling to you like a lost puppy.

While Nick and Pete argue you feel Bradley’s fingers slip from yours, and it’s such an unexpected motion that you turn to watch him. He’s looking intently at your hand, though there's an absent-minded air about him, and your stomach drops when he ghosts his rough thumb gently over your ring finger.

“Brad?” You murmur, trying to keep from choking up, “‘Love you.”

He smiles, eyes trained back on yours and full of tenderness, “Love you too, sweetheart. Where’s my mom?”

“Bathroom,” You drop your eyes down to his hands, studying his own bare ring finger. You hope you get to see it decorated one day.

“Do you want me to read to you?” You look back up at him, your nose nearly bumping his cheek. Nick has left the book on the side table near the foot of Bradley’s bed in order to gesture with both hands, and you’re sure they wouldn’t notice if you lit it on fire where it sat.

“I’d love for you to read to me,” Bradley laughs breathily, “I haven’t been hearing your voice much lately. Not like I used to.”

“I know,” You lament, hoping your voice doesn’t tremble. You know he means unobscured, private, without beeping in the background and the ever-present threat of a nurse coming in to kick you out, but you hadn’t heard Bradley’s voice in weeks, so you understand the internal yearning.

“Come here,” Bradley suggests when you fetch the book, offering up the right side of his bed. It’s small, nothing you wouldn’t attempt at home but something you don’t want to risk in the hospital.

“No, it’s okay, Brad.” You shake your head, trying to pat the blankets down around him but he doesn’t let you, reaching for your thigh.

“No, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You insist, standing when he tries dragging you into the bed with him, “It’s okay, Brad, let’s just sit. We can be closer when we’re home, but for now I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He looks crushed. Really, truly crushed, his brown eyes holding such a vulnerable look in them that you feel like you’ve just punted a puppy across a football field.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” You repeat, swallowing thickly as tears prick at your eyes. You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’m scared, Bradley.”

You’re scared about more than just that. You haven’t held him in weeks, nor has he held you. You’re afraid that you might never recover from this, but if he wraps his arms around you, buries his face in your hair and holds you close, you know you never will. You’ll spend the rest of your days living in regret, and your self-preservation instinct is kicking in again.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bradley murmurs, though he doesn’t need to be quiet now that Nick and your dad have stopped bickering. They’re stealing sneaky glances at the two of you, acting like their sunglasses stop them from being noticed even though their heads are turned towards you.

His words strike something within you that he didn’t mean for them to. He’s spoken unknowingly to your outstanding promise with yourself, that you won’t run away because something is scary. And your promise to Carole, as well, that you’ll make her son feel loved before he remembers that love wasn’t enough to make you stay.

“Bradley,” You breathe, book in one hand as you use the other to stroke through his hair. You’re standing at his bedside and he takes advantage of your proximity, sitting up and off of his pillows to lean his head against your stomach.

You’re glad he can’t see your face, because tears rush from your eyes in seconds. He’s a sweet man whose brain operates on love first, and thought second, so when he hooks his arms around your waist and nestles his face into your tummy, you know it’s his instinct to hold you.

At the sight of your tears the other men in the room decide to take their leave, smiling sadly at you while you comb your fingers through Bradley’s hair.

“We’ll give you some time,” Your dad whispers, but Bradley can hear just fine, “Bye, honey.”

You aren’t able to offer them a wave in response, but they know you appreciate it.

Once more the sterile hospital room is inhabited by only you and Bradley. Souls intertwined, tangled in some places and parallel in others, you hold him, stroking through his hair and praying he never picks his face up out of your stomach. There’s snot threatening to run down your lip but you don’t dare sniffle at the thought of ruining the moment, keeping your chest deathly still where it yearns to shake with sobs.

“I love you,” You whimper, dropping the book to cage his head to your belly, “I love you, Bradley, I- I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He speaks into your stomach, and the sound vibrates through your body, warming you with a tingly sensation like the one you’d gotten from your very first kiss with Bradley.

You’re sure he knows you’re crying now, now that your voice drips with tears and your hands shake in his scalp. He doesn't break away, though, only tugs you closer, keeping his face nestled to your body as he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap. You’re mindful of his broken ribs, but there’s nothing wrong with his thighs, so when you land on top of them, you let yourself rest there.

Bradley’s wormed his nose against your cheek, no longer snug in your stomach but flush to your face instead. He holds you like he used to, before you spooked and ran, before he fell out of the sky in a blaze of flames, before anything in your life was complicated. He holds you like he held you when you were just Y/N and Bradley, cradling your face to his chest and tucking his chin over your head.

“You’re hurting, too,” He murmurs, rocking you ever-so-slightly back and forth as you sit sideways on his lap. He keeps you tucked to his chest, smooths your hair with one hand and holds your waist with the other.

“I’m the one that went down but you’re the one who got that phone call,” He moves his hand from your hair to your back, scratching aimlessly there, “You’re allowed to be upset over that. You don’t have to pretend like nothing is wrong just because I’m in the hospital. I don’t want you to pretend to be strong if it’s only gonna make you weaker. Talk to me, honey, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t!” You wail, clutching his hospital gown and praying you aren’t hurting his ribs, “Bradley, I- I can’t tell you. I can’t do that to you, not here, not now. I’m scared,” You weep, “I’m really scared, Bradley.”

“Don’t be. You’re okay,” He promises, pecking a soft kiss against the crown of your head, “Baby, you’re safe with me. You don’t have to be scared of anything. Of talking, or feeling, or hurting. That’s what I’m here for, angel, to talk with you, to feel with you, to hurt with you. That’s what love is, honey, and I love you, you know I do.”

His voice wobbles slightly on the last fragment of his sentence, and you don’t think you can handle seeing him cry. You’re terrified out of your mind, but determined just the same not to run, and it’s stuck you in this awful paralyzed state. All you can do is hold Bradley, all you can do is let him hold you, and hope that his memories never return.

“I don’t want to stress you out,” You mourn, picking your head up from his chest to press it to his face instead. You want to fuse yourself to him, so that he couldn’t cast you away if he tried.

“I’m stressed about whatever you’re not telling me,” He laughs sadly, a soft huff of air from his chest, “Baby, it makes me stressed knowing you’re shutting yourself in like this. Knowing there’s stuff going on up here that you don’t want to talk to me about.”

He taps your head, then smooths his hand down the nape of your neck to rub at your back.

“Tell me,” He begs, voice raw with despair, “Please, angel, tell me what you’re feeling.”

You owe him the truth. Concealing the truth was one thing. Sneaking around, covering up behind his back so that he didn’t notice anything peculiar was a preventative measure. But now he’s asked for your honesty, now it’ll be lying if you don’t tell him. Now you’ll be lying to him, really and truly lying to him, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You choose honor this time, sniffling hard and bracing your hand on his chest so that you can look him in the eyes if you feel brave enough.

“Bradley,” Your words roll off of your tongue with the weight of steel, and you have to force them out of your throat to get them to go at all, “I want to be honest with you. But I’m scared-” Your face crumples, and you fight to right it, “But- but that’s not fair to you. It’s not fair for me to shut you out, You’re right, you-” You falter, the pitch of your voice wobbly as you take a deep breath, “You love me. And I know I can be honest with you.”

“You can,” Bradley promises, stroking his knuckles over your cheek. He stares into your eyes, and you stare into his only to get a last glimpse of their sweet honey-like hue.

“You should know,” You drop your eyes, unable to confess while looking into his, “I love you, Bradley. I always have, and I always will.”

“I love you, too,” He promises, “Now what’s the matter, honey?”

“It’s-”

“Mr. Bradshaw?” A nurse steps into the room, and instantly the moment is shattered. There’s no picking up the pieces, no glue in the world strong enough to repair the bravery you’d mustered up to be honest with Bradley.

He looks annoyed at her interruption, something you know he wouldn’t normally feel towards anyone doing their job, but he refrains from snapping at her.

“Yes?”

“We need to run some vital tests. Blood sugar, heart rate, breathing, the like. After they’re cleared, we’ll know if you can return home or not.”

From his hold on you, you gather that there’s nothing Bradley would rather do less in the world than let you go, and there’s nothing you’d rather do less than let him, but you peel away from him reluctantly, standing where you’d been tucked into his lap. He settles back against his pillows that you’re sure are cold now, and you tuck the blanket beneath his thigh to keep him warm.

He ducks his gaze and you see tears lining his eyes that you want to wipe away, but he grabs for your hand again, and you hope that’s enough for him.

The nurse pokes and prods at him, reads machines and scribbles their information down, and the door opens once again before she’s done conducting her tests. Carole, Nick, and Pete step back through the doors, smiling sheepishly at you. You have a sneaking suspicion that Nick and your dad had held Carole off from coming back to the room while you spoke, which you’re grateful for. You just wish you'd had a little more time.

“Alright,” The nurse claps, smiling cheerily like she hadn’t just shattered your moment, “You are in good shape, Mr. Bradshaw. Your blood sugar is a little high,” She notes with a furrowed brow, and you shoot a knowing glance at Bradley, “But everything else seems right. Your ribs should heal within a few weeks time, and once you get back home and see familiar surroundings, your memories should return. All you need to do is rest, once I get these processed and signed off by the doctor, you’ll be good to go!”

“Thank you,” Carole gushes, while Bradley just nods with a tight smile on his face, jaw tight in irritation at the four unwanted parties in the room.

“Goin’ home, big guy.” Nick grins at Bradley as the nurse makes her leave. He claps his son on the leg and this time Carole doesn’t intervene, “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

“Shower,” Bradley rasps, “There’s ash in my hair.”

“Not anymore,” You showcase your hands, dust and ash clinging to the spaces between your fingers from when you’d run them through Bradley’s hair.

He laughs at the sight, “Still. The second thing on my list is sleep, and I don’t want to get anything on the sheets.”

“Good plan,” Carole beams at her son, hooking her arm around yours, “Baby, we should head out. We’ve got lots to do for this surprise of yours,” She gloats at Bradley, then turns back to you, “But you should wash your hands first, honey.”

“Okay,” You nod, eager to get out of a situation you’d been so courageous in only minutes before, “I’ll- um, get my stuff.”

You bend towards your purse, taking the bag of cookies out, “If your blood sugar rises and lands you in here for another night,” You warn, “I’m never making these again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bradley nods, but your dad is the one to take the bag, not him.

“Don’t steal them,” You narrow your eyes at your dad and Nick, “And don’t get caught feeding him any. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am!” They echo Bradley, standing at attention. You scoff, turning back to Bradley and leaning down to meet him where he lays back on his pillows.

“I love you,” You hum, and he’s already reaching out for you before you can touch him. He sits upright, grabbing for your hands and tilting his face upwards to beg for a kiss.

“I love you, too,” He mumbles, speaking lowly against your lips as you kiss him. When you pull away he wants more, keeping your hands firmly in his grip when you try to leave.

“Bradley,” You let out a soft laugh, but you kiss him again anyways, knowing he’s still reeling from being a second away from finding out the truth, the extent of which he’s not prepared for.

“It’s okay,” You whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead to his, “We’ll talk later.”

”Yeah,” He nods, arching up into your embrace even though he knows he has to let you leave.

He calls out again before you leave, “Love you!” And you repeat it with a sad smile on your face, letting Carole take your hand while Nick and your dad sit at Bradley’s bedside. The last you see of him is his fading grin as you wave goodbye before the door shuts, and you’re in the hallway.

“Something happened in there,” She gushes, misplaced excitement shining from her eyes like a sunbeam, “I just know it! He was all lovey-dovey when you left, even moreso than usual. He really didn’t want you to go, angel.”

“I almost told him,” You mutter as Carole leads you to the elevator, nerves churning your stomach.

“What?” Her smile drops in surprise, and she stomps to a halt on the tiled floor. She presses the button, and when the elevator dings she ushers you inside.

“He asked me to be honest with him,” You recall, sick at the thought of how close you’d been to losing him, “And- and he was holding me, Carole, like he used to. And I couldn’t help it, I just- I wanted to tell him everything, I couldn’t stand lying to him and pretending nothing was wrong. But I- I don’t know if I can do that again. I don’t know if I can tell him the truth. I tried, and we got interrupted, I mean- isn’t that a sigh? Some sort of clue left by the universe to tell me to wait a little longer?”

“Baby I don’t think the universe is sendin’ you clues,” Carole looks sympathetically at you, “I think you’re lookin’ for reasons to run away again. I know I’m the one that told you to pretend, but that boy can read you like a book, and if he’s catchin’ on, maybe you ‘oughta give it up. I saw him in there, honey.” The door dings and slides open, and she takes your hand to lead you outside, “There’s nothin’ he wouldn’t forgive you for. He was clinging onto you like a leech, and I think he’d understand you were scared. Might not like it, but he’d understand.”

“He keeps saying that I’ll never lose him, or- or that he loves me, or that I can tell him what’s bothering me,” You gesture with your free hand as you walk to the parking lot, “And- and it feels so perfect! Like he knows exactly what I need to hear. Like I could tell him and nothing would change. But everything would change, and- and I don’t want that,” You suppress a sob as you reach Nick and Carole’s car, pulling open the door to the passenger’s side.

She stashes her purse by your feet, stuffing the key into the ignition, “Baby, everything’s already changed. He just doesn’t know that. But he will soon, and once he does, he’s gonna realize why you’ve been acting so weird. If you were pullin’ it off, I’d say keep going. If he wasn’t asking questions, you could keep this up, ‘cause you’d be doing him a favor. That was the whole point, baby, to let him down nice and easy, give him a bit of time to adjust to the crash before confessing about the breakup. But I should’ve known he’d realize you were lyin' to him,” She scoffs, checking her mirrors, “That boy would notice you’d changed your haircut from just your voice on the phone. He knows you too well, honey, and if he’s askin’ all the right questions and you’re giving him all the wrong answers, that’s gonna stress him out. And that’s doing the opposite of what we want. If this is just gonna make things worse, I say tell him. But-” She backs out of the spot, en route to base to fetch his car, “Not yet. Wait until you’re home. Then he’s in a familiar environment, you can kneel by the bedside and grovel if you want,” She waves a hand in the air, “Just be honest with him baby, if it’s what he’s askin’ for.”

She barely lets you mull her words over before she starts again, “I think it’s a good time. You told me that when you left, you wish you hadn’t. And you’ve spent the last two days showing that to him, even if he doesn’t know that’s what you’re doing. He knows you love him, and I think he’ll forgive you if you confess that you were just scared of losing him. ‘Cause you can’t fake love like that, honey.” She eyes you through the mirror, “You can pretend y’all never broke up, but the way you love him, that’s not pretend, and he knows that.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” You sniffle, “If he doesn’t know by then. I- I know I have to, even if it’s scary.”

“Atta girl,” She gushes, nearly flooring it at a green light in her excitement, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Don’t be,” You grumble, ‘Not yet. Not until I do it.”

“I know you will,” She decides, “You’ve never lied to me before.”

“Actually,” You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, “I have, once.”

She narrows her eyes, gives you a sideways glance as she makes a turn, “Oh, really? And when was that?”

“Uh, when we were in high school, I told you Bradley and I were staying at my place while my dad was gone,” Your face twists into an involuntary smile at the memory, “We went to Vegas.”

“What?” She shrieks, almost stomping on the breaks, “Vegas?”

“It was just for a night! And we didn’t gamble,” You scoff, “They wouldn’t let us into any casinos.”

“Ooh, you two,” She seethes, but it’s happened so long ago that she can’t be mad, not really, “Surprised y’all didn’t get married down there.”

“Actually,” You laugh, “We tried. But you weren’t there to sign off on it, and we were only 17.”

She shares a laugh with you at the memory, pulling into the security checkpoint outside of the naval base. You have to pass your ID over her, and you explain that you’re just picking up your partner’s car. They let you in, but you don’t think they like your presence very much, so you get the car and go as quickly as you can.

“It’s the motel just off the freeway,” You gesture in the direction of the place you’ve been staying, “We’ll load up the Bronco and meet back at our place.”

“See you there, babydoll,” Carole grins, already headed for the exit.

You roll up your window just as your phone buzzes, and you put the call on speaker while your phone balances on the cupholder.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Bradley’s voice bleeds through the crackly speakers. Then, like an attached toddler their first night away from mom, “I miss you.”

It’s just what you need to hear after your gut-wrenching conversation with Carole, and you croon while waving to the security officers on the way out, “I miss you too, Brad. I picked up your car. Didn’t want her sitting all alone on base.”

“Thanks, babe,” You can hear the grin in his voice, “Is my mom still with you?”

“No, she’s driving herself,” You merge lanes, brain on autopilot as you head for the motel, “And don’t ask what we’re doing, it’s a surprise.”

He scoffs; you’ve caught him, “Fine. They gave me lunch. It’s the same as yesterday.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, feeling more at home in Bradley’s Bronco than you had in your half-empty house, “I’ll make you something good for breakfast tomorrow, baby. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, bacon, fruit, whatever you want to eat.”

He takes a pause, then, “I have something inappropriate to say. But your dad’s still here, so I can’t.”

You let out a bark of bewildered laughter, especially when you can hear your dad’s voice in the background as he groans.

“I get the idea,” You promise him, and you hear Bradley huff a soft laugh into the speaker. You almost want to record the call, just to keep the sound forever.

“When are you guys coming back?”

“I don’t know, Brad,” You lament, tailing Carole as she heads for the freeway exit, “Hopefully before dinner. But if not, I’ll definitely be there when you get discharged, and I can drive you home.”

“And we can shower,” Bradley adds on to your sentence, eliciting another disgruntled sound from your dad, “And sleep.”

“And we can shower and sleep,” You promise, chest feeling light at the night’s plan. You’re pulling into the motel parking lot now, the dingy sign colored more in spiderwebs than in neon.

“I’ve gotta go, Brad.” You put the car in park, grabbing your phone and switching speaker off, “I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He’s hesitant to answer, and you wish you didn’t have to hang up. You know he’s still uneasy about the way that your talk ended earlier, but he finally speaks up, “Alright. Love you, too.”

“So much,” You hum, “Love you so much.”

“So much,” He agrees, more of that audible grin in his voice, “See you later, angel.”

“See ‘ya,” You hum, and it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would to hang up, not after that.

Carole’s standing ready at the strip of doors, and you pull the small, rusty key out of your pocket. There’s nearly ten boxes stacked in your room, and you prop the door open with one as you gather anything that isn’t packed away.

You haven’t changed clothes much since being there, nor have you been keeping up with your hygiene as well as you should be, so the clean-up process feels like a day's worth, not two week’s worth. But you’re thankful for the easy pickup as you load it into a half-empty box, hauling it out the door and to the Bronco.

Packing the boxes goes fast when you work with Carole. It had been much more of a struggle to cart two at a time from your place to the motel room, but with a little maneuvering, all nine boxes fit snugly between her car and yours.

“Alright,” You dust off your hands, picking at the edge of your nail, “You ready?”

“Actually, you go home,” She decides, “And I’ll go to the party supply store. I’ll pick up some ‘Welcome Home’ stuff, and when I get back I’ll help you with the rest of the boxes, and we can set up together.”

“Perfect,” You heave a sigh of relief, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Of course, baby!” She seems to have a never-ending supply of optimism, one that you’re thankful for because you seem to harbor the opposite.

Hauling your boxes back into the house is unexpectedly the easy part. What’s harder is putting everything back, filling in the gaps in the bookshelf with your own volumes, stuffing the dresser with the clothes you’d chosen to take with you.

When Carole gets back you’re dragging your thumb over the shirt you’d taken off of your pillow, ready to fold it and destroy the evidence of its association with your two-week disappearance. She peeks into the bedroom, expecting to find you hard at work organizing your novels, and instead sees you sitting on the bed looking like you’re going to puke.

“Baby,” She hums, “What’s the matter?”

“He put this over my pillow,” You sniffle, staring down forlornly at the object that had offered comfort to Bradley when you hadn’t, “He slept with it.”

“Oh, baby,” Carole whispers, standing behind you and rubbing your shoulders, “He loves you. Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you think it means everything’ll turn out okay?”

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

For the first time, you say it out loud. You’ve insinuated it, sure, thought about it, but you’ve never said it yet. Not out loud. You voice the fear that’s been bouncing around like a balloon in your head, popping it and feeling the aftershocks flow through you.

She’s quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say any more than you do. But she bends down, wraps her arms around your shoulders and hums, “He will, baby. He’s been sleepin’ with your shirt this whole time, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t miss you.”

“But even if he misses me, I still hurt him,” You sniffle, “I- I left, is missing me enough for him to want me back in his life? What if I went too far? What if we can’t come back from this? What if I lose him forever, Carole?”

“He kept my ring.” She murmurs, her voice the calm to your storm.

“What?”

“He kept it. Even though it wasn’t on your finger, he didn’t give it back to me. And he wouldn’t dare give that to anyone else, Y/N. It’s your ring, he knows it. That’s why he kept it, ‘cause he still wanted you to have it. He loves you even if you did hurt him, baby,” She sniffles, and you feel bad that you’ve made her cry, “That’s what love is. Sometimes you hurt each other, but if it’s love you find your way back. And what you’ve got is the strongest love I’ve ever seen.”

Your silence is enough of a reply, and you’re glad because it’s all you can muster. You can’t find the words to thank her, to tell her you hope she’s right, to beg to whatever deity exists for mercy. All you can say is, “I don’t wanna take it off,” As you stroke a finger down the shirt over your pillow.

“Wear it,” She suggests, pulling at the sweatshirt you’re wearing, “Put that on underneath it, baby. He won’t notice, and you can have it on you as a reminder that he misses you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to tell him.”

“Okay,” You sniff, a stray tear drying sticky on your cheek as you stand. She turns you around and pulls you into a real hug, and you let her squeeze you before going to the bathroom to change.

The shirt smells like Bradley now that he’s slept with it for two weeks. You’re sure you’re just immune to your own scent, and that he could still find traces of it to lull him to sleep at night, but wearing it now feels just as comforting as you bet it felt for him to sleep with it.

When you wander out of the bedroom you find Carole in the living room. She’s standing on your coffee table with her right leg, and her left is on the arm of the couch. She’s pinning a banner to the wall, ‘Welcome Home Bradley!’.

“Hey honey!” She beams at the sight of you in your shirt, you’d forgone the jacket to not overheat while moving things around.

“Do you need help?” You watch her drive a pin into the wall with her thumb, and she shakes her head as she reaches down for another one, “No, I’ve got this. You just take care of your boxes, I can handle the party.”

“Yeah, you get the fun part,” You tease, and she laughs.

“Darlin’, I wasn’t the one to take my puzzles and run. Now go put ‘em back, I’m sure they’re the first things Brad’ll notice are missing when he gets home.”

You head back into the bedroom without any complaints. It’s hard to put everything back. No, it’s nice to put everything back. What’s hard is pretending it was never gone in the first place; what’s hard is lying.

You slide a lone book into its place on the shelf, one last spot left beside a photo album. Your fingers brush over a gemstone on the cover and you tug at the hefty spine, catching the jam-packed book before it can fall.

“Wow,” You breathe, barely aware that you’re speaking out loud. The cover showcases Bradley pressed up against the hospital’s nursery glass, peering in on a very sleepy baby you snoozing in her bassinet with Carole holding him up. You’d been born shortly after Bradley, not even a year, and he’d been very excited to meet his new best friend at the hospital.

A flip to the first page finds you in your dad’s old apartment, sleeping in your crib while Bradley’s hand wraps around the bars he’d pulled himself up on. Then the next page showcases a photo of him in the crib, curled up in the space by your feet while you sleep peacefully in your own spot.

You take the photo out of its sleeve, flipping it over to read the inscription you know by heart on the back: Bradley’s attached to Y/N at the hip. Won’t sleep anywhere else.

The next photos are more of the same. Bradley holding you on the couch, a gummy grin on his face at the baby in his arms. His hands barely bigger than yours, handing you a toy fighter jet. Tummy time on a play mat, where he’s holding a rattle just out of reach to get you to crawl like he’d seen your parents do. A shot of you tugging on his wispy hair, then a shot of Nick dragging a crying Bradley into his lap while your dad holds your previously clenched fist open. They tell their own story.

You’d been fated best friends from the start, but as you age in the photos, your relationship changes. All of a sudden there’s puppy love in your gaze when you reach your tween years, braces in your mouth and hearts in your eyes. There’s a picture of Bradley teaching you how to skateboard, and you're holding his hands for dear life. You distinctly remember a fiery flush to your cheeks in that moment, and you’re glad the camera hadn’t captured it. There’s New Year’s Eve in your matching pajamas, you cradled in Bradley’s arms like they’d make you pose every year since you’d come into the world. It was cute when you were kids, then it was embarrassing when you were teenagers, and now it’s cute again. In the photo you’re looking at you can’t be more than fourteen, and you know the second the shutter clicked on the camera, you’d scrambled out of his arms like they were burning you.

You flip through more pages, watching your relationship blossom from friends into lovers. All of a sudden you’re holding hands, you’re matching outfits, and you’re kissing when you think no one is looking. Then there’s the famous picture of Bradley on his 18th birthday, glaring at the camera with a box of condoms in his hands, courtesy of his dad. Funnily enough, your dad shares Bradley’s expression in the background. The inscription on the back of that one reads: Just making sure he’s safe! Don’t want any grandkids, not while I’m still in my glory days - Goose.

That New Year’s Eve photo is special. It’s you still cradled in Bradley’s arms like always, but you’ve leaned up to kiss him, and he’s leaned down to kiss you. You distinctly remember it being the first time you’d willingly kissed on camera in front of your parents, and the giddy smiles you’d forced into makeshift puckers are clear as day in the photo.

The matching pajama sets you’ve outgrown together are all stored in a box marked ‘sentimental’, not one that you’d taken with you when you’d left. You have a current pair, red and black buffalo print bottoms with fuzzy black tops, and you plan on asking Bradley to wear them tonight.

You haven’t noticed, but a smile has grown on your face, etching itself into your features as you relive your love story. You flip through family vacations, holidays, birthdays, sports games, barbecues, a million family events that Bradley joined you at. There’s never any of you apart, even though he’d been moved around for his career, because no one has ever thought to take a picture of one of you without the other. There’s no Y/N in this book, there’s no Bradley, there’s only Y/N and Bradley, and that’s what you want to be for the rest of your life. You want to fill out the rest of this book with aging photos, clearer in quality while the old ones yellow. You want to stuff this book until the bindings rip, you want to look back through it one day in a rocking chair beside one of Bradley’s own, faces wrinkled and hair grayed. Your story can’t end here.

Your phone buzzes on the bed, and you drop the photo album there while you check your message. No surprise, it’s from Bradley.

- The doctor signed off, I can go home after dinner, which shouldn’t be too much longer. How’s it going over there?

That’s great! You type back, biting a smile off of your face as you respond. It’s residual from looking through the photos, but you have to remember, you’re not there yet. It’s going good. Your mom is scary agile.

- What’s she doing?

Can’t tell you ;)

- Damn! Thought I had you there. Your dad’s eating one of my cookies :(

Tell him I said to leave you alone!

- He says you’re not the boss of him.

Tell him your mom said to leave you alone.

- He says she’s not the boss of him.

Tell your dad to tell him to leave you alone. She’s his boss.

- My dad’s eating one too :(

Those assholes! I’ll make you more, baby ❤

- I love you best. ❤

I love you too baby ❤

The lingering fear of a breakup - a real one this time, one that doesn't rewind itself amidst burning jet fuel - is stuck in the back of your mind, and you suspect it will be until you finally confess. But the photo album and Bradley’s messages have combined to lift your spirits, and filing your shoes back into their places doesn’t weigh you down as much as you suspected it would. You try to make them look haphazard, jumbling them with Bradley’s and turning a few of them upside down. You two are notorious for having out of control shoe collections, Bradley’s sneakers and your own shoes constantly tumbling out of the closet like a cartoon.

By the time the sun starts setting early on your California dream you’re nearly done, there’s just a few last garments to slip into your closet. You do so while wrestling with the clothes that are already in there, a hefty collection that leaves little room for the dress you’re trying to wedge inside. Nevertheless, a too-full closet is better than a half-empty one.

“Sugar?” Carole calls from down the hallway, hopefully not precariously balanced on any furniture this time, “Nick says they’re just serving Brad his dinner.”

You finally manage to set the clothes right on their hangers, panting slightly as you withdraw from the closet, “Okay! I’m almost done. We have a lot of clothes.”

She laughs, “Yes you do! You should eat somethin’ before we leave.”

“There’s no food here,” You sigh, “The fridge is empty. I’ll have to go shopping later. I’ll just stop for fast food on the way.”

“Party’s all set up,” Carole nods, jerking her head back towards the hallway, “If you keep the lights off in the living room tonight, he won’t see it until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Are you coming over to celebrate?”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ for breakfast,” Carole nods, “We can bring food?”

You laugh huffily, “I wasn’t kidding about there being nothing in the fridge. Anything’s appreciated, thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, baby,” She beams, but reconsiders with a slightly furrowed brow, “Although, I hope this is the only time.”

“Me too,” You scoff, “Alright, let’s head back.”

True to your word, you pull through a fast-food drive-thru on the way back to the hospital. Carole knows Nick’s order, and you know your dad’s, hopeful that they’ll be tired of hospital cuisine and yearning for a burger instead.

However, when you get there, they’re waiting in the lobby, Bradley sat between them. You hadn’t realized how early they were letting him out, and Carole takes the bag of food from you so that you can properly hug Bradley. He stands the moment he sees you, eyes pooling with such urgency as he tries to respect the no-running rule of the hospital. You struggle just the same, and the moment you’re within arms reach of each other, tears start flowing. Bradley yanks you into his chest, almost tipping you forwards and himself backwards with the momentum of his hug. His chin nestles straight over your shoulder, as does yours to his, and it’s the kind of hug you get from him after a long deployment, maybe even more desperate now. His breathing is ragged beside your ear, but not from his medical conditions, from the desperation clogging his lungs. His fist is tight in the back of your sweatshirt but the fabric is loose on you, and it’s not a tight enough hold for him. His fingers scrabble for the shirt beneath the hoodie, gripping onto both garments and keeping you closer than you ever thought you could be with Bradley. Your hands immediately encircle his shoulders, and your fingers find purchase against the baby hairs at the back of his neck. You scratch through the ones at his nape, hearing him sniffle sharply where his chin rests on your shoulder. The hand that isn’t fisted in your clothes is tight to your hip, gripping you so hard that you can feel his nails through the jeans you’re wearing. It’s not painful, it’s just firm, and its strength is reassuring. It’s grounding to hug Bradley again, unobscured by breathing tubes, hospital beds, or prying nurses.

You hear someone’s phone camera sound off, but you’re far from discouraging it. In fact, you’re going to ask whoever it was to send you the photo later. The hug turns into an embrace, one where you sway lightly from side to side, anything that isn’t you or Bradley fading into the background. Your eyes are screwed shut but tears still cascade down your cheeks, melancholy waterfalls that drip off of the curve of your chin and stain Bradley’s t-shirt. He’s dressed in what he’d been wearing beneath his flight suit, the material thankfully not ripped or burnt thanks to the coveralls. You take the lead, pulling back, but he keeps the same level of contact with you. When your chin slips from his shoulder he grabs your face instead, using it to keep you pressed tight to his body. His eyes are teary themselves, streaks of the shimmery stuff down his cheeks and probably in his mustache, too.

“Hi,” You croak, smiling giddily through your tears.

He smiles, though the chubbing of his cheeks nudges a few more tears out of his eyes, “Hi.”

You smear them away with the palm of your hand, and use your thumb to rid him of the ones clinging to his undereyes. His hands are on your cheeks, too, and he tries mirroring your ministrations, but his thumbs are too shaky to do so. For fear of poking your eyes out, he clamps his hands over your cheeks again, content with holding you while your tears run over the hills and valleys of his fingers.

“You’re standing,” You marvel, ‘I thought you’d be in a wheelchair.”

“It hurts a little bit,” Bradley admits with a slight grimace, and you back away like you’ve been struck. He doesn’t let you get far at all, dropping your face to tug you back by your waist, “-but I’d rather break another rib than let you go.”

“Sap,” You accuse, and Bradley laughs.

His lips twist into a sheepish smile, “Maybe. You can be my tree. I’m stuck on you.”

You sniffle, brow furrowing, “Huh? ‘Cause of the sap thing?”

“Yeah,” He laughs, “Isn’t that what it means? Sticky and sweet like tree sap?”

“I don’t know,” You breathe bashfully, your voice rife with part confusion and part sheepishness, “I guess that makes sense. But I’ve never been called a tree before.”

“I’ll work on my flirting,” He promises, stroking his thumbs up and down your sides in soft, soothing motions, “Can we go home now?”

You nod, “You should hug your mom first.” Only then does Bradley remember that you’re not the only other person in the room, turning in your grip to see your mini crowd of adoring onlookers.

He chuckles, “Sorry. Hi, mom.”

“Hi baby,” She gushes, letting him squeeze her in a hug. He’s much more gentle with her, out of longing for you, not disrespect.

Nick reaches over to ruffle his hair and your dad nudges you sideways, “Happy to have him back?”

“Yeah,” You gush, a breathless whisper, “Nervous, though,” You admit, “What if he slips in the shower, or something? Or- or some freak accident happens and he doesn’t wake up?”

“He will,” Your dad slings an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close by your shoulders, “He’ll be alright, kid. And hopefully by tomorrow he’ll remember everything, maybe look at some pictures tonight to jog his memory. Show him stuff you took of these past few weeks, the places you went or the food you ate.”

You don’t have any pictures of your pitiful motel room, nor the candy bars you’d raided the minifridge for, but you wouldn’t show them to Bradley if you did.

You nod, breaking away when Bradley searches for you after his hug with Carole, “Thanks, dad.”

“You gonna be okay getting settled tonight, Brad?” Nick asks, already bringing a french fry to his mouth from the bag in his hand. Your dad has your food as well as his own, and you take your bag back from him as Bradley nods.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks, guys.”

Everyone says their hasty goodbyes, and your hug with Carole lasts a second longer than you hope anyone notices.

“Tell him.” She whispers against your ear, the words a feather light breath, “He loves you.”

“I’ll feed you in the car,” Bradley grabs the bag of food from your hand when you nudge him towards the exit, “Can I have fries?”

“You’ve been on a diet of chicken and potatoes for two days,” You take the hand that he offers you, curling your fingers around his, “You can have the whole burger if you want, Brad.”

Bradley stops short in front of the bronco when he sees it, “There she is!”

“She’s here,” You laugh, “Perfect condition. The air freshener’s still good.”

“Poor baby,” He heads for the passenger’s seat, swiping a hand over the hood of the car on his way, “She probably thought we forgot about her.”

He settles comfortably in the passenger’s seat, though you’re sure it feels awkward to be there in his own car. He throws his head back against the seat and sighs, long and loud, a noise he would have made fun of his dad for making mere years ago.

“Comfy?” You glance sideways at him, your food in his lap while he rests against the seat. He nods, reaching for the bag as you start up the engine.

“Here baby,” He calls, popping two fries in front of your mouth just before you turn out of the parking lot, “Fries.”

You carefully bite them out of his hand, tipping your head back to get them fully into your mouth. You mumble ‘thanks’ through them, and you’re not sure if he can make out what you’re saying, but you hope it’s obvious.

“I can’t wait to get in bed,” He groans, “I know it’s only been a few days, but I can’t remember being there for three weeks.”

“It’s cold without you,” You hum forlornly, checking your blind spot before merging, your hands stiff on the wheel. Your words leave more of an aftertaste on your tongue than the fries do, and it’s an unpleasant one. They mean more than you let on, and your brain is clouded thick with the worry of sleeping in a cold bed for the rest of your life.

There’s a moment of silence that Bradley lets follow your words, then he promises, “I’ll be there tonight. And every night after that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Burger?”

He laughs, leaning in his seat when you turn, “Burger.”

He holds the food up to your mouth, letting you take a bite that smears sauce over your mouth. He takes a napkin, cleaning up after you and dabbing all of the mess away. You’re absolutely certain that if you weren’t on the road, he would have kissed it off. You make a mental note to eat just as messily when you get home, for experimental purposes.

“Can I have a bite?” He asks tentatively, and you turn at a red light to smile and nod.

“‘Course, Brad. I meant it, if you want it you can have the whole thing.”

“I don’t want you to go hungry,” He hums, taking a chunk to the left of your bite mark, “Thanks, babe. Fuck, that's good.”

“Did they finish your cookies?” You exit the freeway, muscle memory guiding you home.

Bradley speaks through a mouthful of burger, unpleasant to hear but somehow endearingly domestic, like he’s not worried about looking handsome for you. “Yeah. I got one more, but they mowed through the rest.”

“Those bitches,” You hiss, and he laughs, “Okay, we’ll bake tomorrow. But I’m keeping the vanilla away from you.”

He scoffs, “Always with the vanilla. I drank it one time!”

“One time is enough for a lifetime ban!” You insist, turning onto your street, “Okay, you shower and I’ll eat, then we can get into bed.”

“Sounds good,” He drawls, stuffing your food back into its bag and swapping it to you for the keys, “I’ll be quick in the shower.”

“No rush,” You croon, holding the hand that he offers you as you take on the front walkway together, “Don’t hurt yourself because you’re too eager to get into bed. It’ll be there even if you take your time.”

You’re bound for the kitchen and Bradley the bedroom, but you remember you have to keep the lights off so that he doesn’t see your decorations. You send him off with a kiss at the hallway, intent on watching him leave before setting up at the table.

“Goodbye,” You hum, standing with your lips puckered in the doorway of the hall, “If you need help, just yell for me.”

“Will do,” He nods, puckering his own lips and pressing them to yours with a cartoonish smack! You watch his ginger walk towards the bedroom, his hips off balance as his ribs ache in his chest.

Once you’re in the clear you flick the kitchen light on, choosing to stand at the counter instead of dirty the table. You busy yourself with your phone, tapping on an impatient text from Carole: ‘Have you told him yet?’

Not yet. You write back, munching on a french fry, Not in the car. He didn’t ask, either.

- Don’t lose your nerve, you can almost hear the critical tone of her voice just by reading her message, The longer you lie, the more he’ll worry about you.

I know. I’ll tell him.

- ❤️

“Babe?” You hear Bradley call over the stream of the shower, “Babe!”

You abandon the last few fries in the container, stuffing your phone into your pocket to rush to his aide. Horror flashes through your mind, visions of Bradley bleeding down the drain or hunched over in pain.

All you see when you burst into the bathroom is him looking like a puppy in the rain, a pitiful pout on his face as water runs down his face and through his mustache.

“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.”

You can’t help but coo, “Oh, baby. Lemme help you.”

“Thanks,” He mumbles, “I already have the shampoo.”

True to his word, there’s shampoo smeared over his hands. Apparently he’d tried his best, but couldn’t move well enough with his broken ribs. You try not to laugh at his misfortune, especially because he’s in pain, but he’s just too cute to ignore. You try to muscle down the thought that this might be the last time you ever shower with Bradley, even if you’re not really in the water with him. You wet your hands, then wipe the shampoo off of his palms, reaching for his scalp.

“I’m sorry I’m making you stand in front of me naked and we’re not having sex,” Bradley huffs, “Believe me, if I thought I could, I’d be jumping you right about now.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, muffling the sound into Bradley’s forehead that you kiss chastely, “We should hold off on sex, at least until your ribs are healed.

Or until you know the truth.

“They don’t hurt too bad now,” Bradley muses, “But when I raised my arms to shampoo, it was really bad.”

“I’ll reach for things for you,” You promise, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. It knocks loose leftover ash from his accident, and it flows down the drain in a swirl of gray bubbles.

“Oh, fuck,” For not having sex, Bradley’s making some awfully pornographic sounds, “That feels good.”

“I’ll bet,” you hum, “Can’t imagine having ash in my hair for that long.”

“It’s not pleasant. Oh god, babe,” He groans, “Hurry up and rinse it out, I’m gonna fall asleep standing up.”

“Okay! Okay,” You laugh, scrubbing in one last circle at the nape of his neck then reaching for the showerhead, “Have you washed your body already?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs, letting the water flow through his hair and rinse the shampoo out, “Oh my god, this is what heaven feels like.”

“Come on,” You smile, reaching for a towel, “Do you need help drying off?”

“You just wanna feel up my thighs,” Bradley accuses, and you laugh good-naturedly.

“Nope. Ass.” You admit, “But if you can do it yourself, then go ahead.”

“No!” He catches you as you stuff the towel to his chest, pulling you back towards the shower, “Uh, I need help. I think you should wipe down my very toned chest and my tight butt.”

“Oh, really? That’s what you’re having trouble with?” You snicker, and Bradley nods proudly.

“Yep. Can’t get my hands over my shredded back either, such a shame.”

“Alright, you flirt,” You scoff, “Turn around.”

You start on his back, and of course, it’s very fit. It’s nothing you haven’t touched before, in fact, you’re surprised there’s no scars there from your fingernails, but this is more intimate, more romantic, more sweet. This is love, not lust. You scrub the towel over his skin, wiping the water droplets away and rubbing into his tight muscles. You take extra care to dry off the small of his back, smoothing the towel down over his ass, too. Despite his earlier cheekiness, he doesn’t make any comments while you’re working. You wrap the towel around his thighs, pressing a kiss to his hip as you bend down to dry his calves off. He stands still to let you get his ankles dry, and you tap his foot to turn him around.

Now he’s looking down at you as you towel off his calves again, getting any splotches of water you may have missed before. You dry out the soft tuft of hair at his groin and move to his chest before you can tempt yourself, not wanting your first sexual encounter after a life-threatening plane crash to be a blowjob up against the shower wall. Especially not before you tell him the truth.

Now that you’re on your feet you’re face-to-face, though yours is bent slightly to track any water droplets you might have missed on his shoulders. You towel off his underarms carefully, making sure not to aggravate his muscles that are already bleeding pain through his gut. You swipe the towel over his neck, and in doing so, you’ve set your hand just below his chin. It’s as natural as breathing to slide it up his jaw, and he’s already staring at you, breath shaky as you return his gaze.

He moves first, but you take his cue right away. He leans in to kiss you and you’re happy to press your mouth to his own, not caring that there’s a drop of water leftover between his fingers that transfers to your skin when he cups your face.

“Baby,” He whimpers, desperate and longing, “I- I missed you.”

There’s tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and you manage a sad smile when you wipe them away, “Why, silly? I was only gone for a few hours.”

“I know. I just- I’m real shaken up,” He admits, “I- I don’t even remember the crash and that’s the scary part. I almost died and I’ve got no clue what happened. I feel lost, like- like I’m still stalling or something, just waiting to crash.”

“I’m so sorry,” You croon through your own tears, “Brad, that must be so scary, I- I can’t even imagine.”

“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.”

“Sweetheart,” You coo, equally endeared and saddened by his sudden panic, “We're not at the hospital anymore, there's no visiting hours. Why would I leave? We're home, we’re gonna get changed, and then we’re gonna go to sleep. You’re safe now, okay?”

“Okay,” He nods, voice a mere whisper, “Okay, let’s sleep.”

“Clothes first,” You remind him through a cheeky grin, and the expression scrunches your tear-stained cheeks, cracking the stiffened substance, “We’re sleeping.”

“Alright, alright,” He laughs as you poke at his bare chest, “Will you help me? I managed to bend over and slide my t-shirt off but I don’t think putting something on will be as easy.”

“Mhm. I was hoping,” You reach for the sets of matching pajamas, holding them up enticingly, “You’d match with me?”

He laughs, the sound thick and genuine in his bruised chest, “Of course. I won’t look as good as you, though.”

“Yeah, my mustache is better,” You sigh, scratching a nail over your upper lip that’s morphing into a grin. You whirl on him with his shirt, helping ease his arms into the fabric and stretching the neck hole over his head so that he doesn’t have to bend down. All in all, it works, even if the neckline is a little stretched. He doesn’t need help with his pants, but you feel compelled to do it anyways, sliding his boxers and then the soft material up his legs and tying it tight at the waistband.

“Thanks, honey.” He murmurs, bending at the waist and sitting on his side of the bed, “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Lay down,” You push against his chest, helping him recline against his pillows, “I’ll be right back, B.”

You change quickly, too eager to crawl into bed beside Bradley to care that you’ve left one bite of burger and a few lone fries on the counter. Ants be damned, you’ll clean up tomorrow. When you emerge from the closet you wriggle happily beneath the covers next to Bradley, flicking the light by the doorway off so that all that’s left is your bedside lamp.

When you settle on your pillow he’s already looking at you, and the tip of his nose bumps your own. You melt into a girlish giggle, something that a teenager would produce after a particularly bad pickup line and a single red rose.

“Hi,” You gush, overjoyed to have him so close again. You kiss his nose in your fervent enthusiasm, and he smiles sleepily against his pillow.

“Hi,” He hums, reaching for your waist and pulling you close, “C’mere.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” You stiffen, but he molds your body to his anyways, “Brad, be careful.”

“I will be! I said it before, you can’t break me. Just let me hold you.”

You croon a sad sound as he wraps you in his arms, a sound of longing, of adoration, of grief. He clocks it as sweetness, though, and holds you close. Your face is buried in his chest and you feel his lips move against your scalp when he speaks.

“Y/N,” He starts, and your heart rate spikes at just your name, “About earlier-”

“Tomorrow.” You blurt, anguish rising in your chest, “Brad, can we- can we talk tomorrow? I’m not trying to hide from you,” You promise, but you’re nestled into his chest and muffling your voice, “I trust you with the way that I'm feeling, I just- I just want to sleep. I want to breathe for a minute. And we can talk tomorrow, is that okay?”

He takes a moment to deliberate, really, truly thinking about it. While he does so, your hands tighten in his shirt, desperately clinging to him. But eventually he nods, disjointedly so into the crown of your head, “Okay.” His hands tighten around your waist as he speaks, and you melt into his embrace, scooting impossibly closer. “Okay, honey, we’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.”

Settling into his embrace has never been so easy. Since the moment you'd been in them for the first time only hours old in the hospital, you’d known his arms were made for holding you. They’ve been yours for as long as you can remember, even longer than that according to the photo album you’d skimmed through earlier. Bradley had been the third person to hold you, second only to your parents. Sure, he couldn’t remember it either, and Nick and Carole were probably doing most of the work keeping you balanced in his little lap, but the point is, he was made for holding you, and you were made for being held by him. Your face tucks so naturally under the curve of his chin and your lips press even easier to his throat, kissing at his voice that you love so much. It comes out to thank you for the adoration in a gentle hum, one that thrums against your lips.

His hands revel in their access to the extent of your back, brushing and roving and stroking over every inch of the space he’s granted. It’s ticklish but you don’t dare squirm, letting his fingers send miniscule bolts of electricity through your skin.

“I love you,” He reminds you as he holds you close, the sleepiness fogging his brain clear as day in his voice, “I really, really do.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You promise, kissing up his chin to his lips. The pecks you plant there are short, sweet, and chaste, but when you’re done laying them over his face you decide that you want to fall asleep facing him, not hidden away in his chest. Sure, it’s warm and safe there, but you can’t drift off to his sweet face if you can’t see it.

Your solution is to plop your head back onto your pillow, throwing a leg over his waist to keep yourself close. His eyes are droopy, and hold all of the tender sweetness of the puppies he so often resembles. He’s clearly exhausted, and your own eyes slip shut at the sight of his struggling to stay open.

“Night, Brad.” You yawn, settling against your pillow with the tip of your nose brushing his own, “Welcome home.”

“Night, baby. Love you,” He gushes, as if you hadn’t just exchanged the words seconds prior. But it feels good, it feels right, so you say it back.

“Love you, too.” You use the last of your energy to reciprocate, sleep taking hold of you in its comforting embrace. You slip away like sand into unconsciousness, all of your thoughts about love, and life, and Bradley, and none of the horrific possibility of his memories returning. Nothing’s going to ruin this moment for you, not now.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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fr0stf4ll · 1 month

Text

Forge of starlight - Part 6

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 7.7k

warning; /

notes; Pretty big chapter again today, i hope that you guys will like it. I'm wondering if you guys would like me to do open request for azriel or other characters of the ACOTAR universe ? bisous bisous and see you tomorrowwwww //>_<//

here is the link for part 5 or part 7

The first light of dawn didn't had yet to touch the sky when you quietly slipped out of bed, the soft creak of the wooden floorboards barely audible in the stillness of the early morning. The house was cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from the faint, silvery glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. You moved with practiced ease, pulling on your training clothes—a simple but sturdy outfit made for movement and endurance.

Once dressed, you padded softly to Alex’s room, where the young boy was still deeply asleep, sprawled across his bed with one arm hanging off the side. His peaceful expression made you pause for a moment, a soft smile tugging at your lips. But as much as you hated to wake him, you knew it was time to start the day.

Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake. “Alex, it’s time to get up,” you whispered.

A soft growl emanated from under the covers as Alex buried his face deeper into his pillow, clearly not ready to leave the comfort of his bed. “Just five more minutes, Nana,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “You know we can’t be late for training. Come on, up you get.”

With a reluctant groan, Alex slowly peeled himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. His hair was a wild mess, sticking out in all directions, and he blinked blearily at you, still half-asleep. “Why do we have to train so early?” he grumbled, though there was no real bite in his words.

“Because,” you said with a smile, “this is the best time of day. The city’s quiet, the air is fresh, and it’s just us and the forest. You’ll feel better once we’re out there.”

Alex sighed, but he nodded, already moving to get dressed. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

Within a few minutes, the two of you were ready, your footsteps silent as you slipped out of the house and into the cool pre-dawn air. The sky above was still mostly dark, with only the faintest hint of light on the horizon where the sun would soon rise. The streets of Velaris were quiet, the city still asleep, and the world felt hushed and peaceful as you made your way towards the forest.

As you approached the gates of Velaris, you spotted the familiar figures of the guards stationed there, keeping watch over the entrance to the city. These were the same guards you saw every morning on your way to the clearing, and over time, you had come to know them well.

“Morning, Y/N! Alex!” one of the guards called out with a friendly wave as you approached. He was a tall, broad-shouldered male with a beard that always seemed to be impeccably groomed, despite the early hour. His name was Rylan, and he had a reputation for being one of the friendliest guards in Velaris.

“Morning, Rylan,” you greeted with a smile. “Quiet night?”

“Quiet as can be,” Rylan replied with a grin. “Though I’m not sure how you two manage to get up this early nearly every day. I’m just glad I’m the one on watch and not the one doing all that training.”

Alex, still rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes, gave Rylan a small wave. “Morning, Rylan. You should join us one day. Nana’s training is tough, but it’s fun.”

Rylan chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll leave the tough stuff to you young folks. Besides, someone’s got to keep watch while you’re out there.”

Another guard, a younger male named Darian, leaned over with a teasing grin. “Don’t let him fool you, Alex. Rylan here used to be quite the fighter back in his day. He’s just gotten soft with all these night shifts.”

Rylan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Says the one who can barely lift a sword without complaining about his back.”

You laughed, enjoying the banter between the two guards. “Maybe we should all train together sometime. Keep everyone sharp.”

Rylan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll think about it. But for now, you two should get going. The forest awaits.”

You nodded, giving them both a wave as you and Alex continued on your way, the guards’ laughter fading into the background as you left the city behind and entered the forest.

The path through the trees was familiar, one you had walked countless times before. The forest was alive with the sounds of nature—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant call of birds just beginning to wake, and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the earthy scent of the woods, and you felt yourself relax as you breathed it in.

Alex, now fully awake, walked beside you, his earlier grumpiness replaced by the quiet focus that always came with these early morning sessions. “Do you think we’ll see any animals today?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he didn’t want to disturb the peace of the forest.

“Maybe,” you replied with a smile. “The forest is full of life at this time of day. If we’re lucky, we might catch a glimpse of a deer or two.”

The clearing came into view a few minutes later, a peaceful spot nestled deep within the trees. It was a place of quiet solitude, far enough from the city that you could train in peace, but close enough that you could return quickly if needed. The ground was soft and even, covered in a thin layer of grass, and the trees around the perimeter provided a natural barrier, shielding you from prying eyes.

As you stepped into the clearing, the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, casting the forest in a soft, golden glow. The sky above was slowly transitioning from deep blue to shades of pink and orange, and the beauty of the scene was enough to take your breath away.

Alex, standing beside you, let out a small sigh of contentment. “I guess you’re right, Nana. This really is the best time of day.”

You smiled down at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I knew you’d come around. Now, let’s get to work. We’ve got a lot to do before the sun fully rises.”

With that, the two of you began your morning routine, the clearing filled with the sounds of training—sharp breaths, the swish of weapons through the air, and the quiet, steady rhythm of feet moving across the ground. The world around you was waking up, but in that moment, it was just you, Alex, and the peaceful solitude of the forest, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

The clearing was bathed in the soft, golden light of the early morning as you and Alex moved through your training routine. The air was cool, refreshing, and filled with the scent of damp earth and pine, a perfect setting for the physical exertion that awaited you both.

You began with the basics, going through a series of warm-up exercises to get the blood flowing and muscles ready. Alex mirrored your movements, his focus sharp and determined despite the early hour. He had come a long way since you first started training him, his small frame now stronger and more agile with each passing day.

Once the warm-up was complete, you moved on to sword training. You handed Alex a wooden practice sword, and together, you began a series of drills, the rhythmic clashing of wood echoing through the clearing.

“Remember to keep your guard up,” you instructed, your voice calm but firm as you parried his strikes. “You’re doing well, but don’t let your focus slip.”

Alex nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted his stance and brought his sword up to block your next move. The two of you moved in a synchronized dance, your swords connecting and separating with precise, practiced movements. After a few more exchanges, you could see that Alex was getting into the rhythm, his confidence growing with each successful block and strike.

“Good,” you said, stepping back to give him space. “Now, let’s try something different.”

You set the wooden swords aside and walked over to a small area of the clearing where you had set up a simple target—a wooden post with a painted bullseye on it. You handed Alex a bow and a quiver of arrows, watching as he adjusted his grip on the bowstring.

“Archery is about precision and control,” you explained, demonstrating the proper stance and how to draw the bow. “You need to find your center, steady your breathing, and focus on the target. Don’t rush the shot; let the arrow fly naturally.”

Alex nodded, following your instructions carefully as he nocked an arrow and pulled back the string. You could see the determination in his eyes, the way he focused entirely on the target in front of him.

“Relax your shoulders a bit,” you advised, moving behind him to gently adjust his stance. “And keep your wrist steady. There you go—now, when you’re ready, release.”

He did as you instructed, and the arrow flew from the bow with a satisfying twang, embedding itself in the outer ring of the target. Alex’s face lit up with a mixture of surprise and pride at his success.

“Nice shot!” you praised, giving him an encouraging smile. “You’re getting the hang of it. Let’s try a few more, and focus on refining your technique.”

As Alex continued to practice, you took the opportunity to stretch, easing your muscles after the earlier sword drills. You moved through a series of stretches, leaning into each one with practiced ease. As you stretched your legs, your body moving into a graceful split, you kept an eye on Alex, offering tips and guidance as he shot arrow after arrow.

“Remember to keep your core engaged,” you advised, your voice calm as you reached forward, your fingertips grazing the ground. “It’ll help you stay steady. And don’t forget to follow through with your shot. Let the energy flow all the way from your feet to your fingertips.”

Alex, now fully immersed in his practice, nodded at your words, making the small adjustments you suggested. His shots grew more consistent, each one landing closer to the center of the target as he honed his technique.

After several rounds of archery practice, Alex finally lowered the bow, breathing heavily but with a satisfied smile on his face. He had clearly made progress, and it showed in the way he carried himself—more confident, more self-assured.

You finished your stretches and stood, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension. “Great job, Alex. You’re improving with every shot.”

He beamed at your praise, though he still looked a little unsure. “Thanks, Nana. But I think I still need more practice.”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair as you often did. “We all do. But that’s what training is for. You’ve done well today.”

Feeling the morning wear on and satisfied with the training session, you led Alex in a series of cool-down stretches, guiding him through each movement to prevent stiffness and ensure his muscles recovered properly. He followed your lead, the two of you moving in sync as the morning light grew stronger, casting long shadows across the clearing.

As the session came to a close, you both stood in the clearing, the sounds of the forest waking up around you. Alex stretched his arms above his head, a yawn escaping him as the exertion of the morning began to catch up with him.

“That was a good session,” he said, his voice a mix of tiredness and satisfaction.

You nodded, glancing up at the sky where the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, bathing the world in a soft, golden light. “It was. But now, I think it’s time we head back home and get some breakfast. What do you think?”

Alex grinned, his earlier grumpiness forgotten. “Definitely. I’m starving.”

With that, the two of you made your way back through the forest, the familiar path leading you back toward the city of Velaris. As you walked, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. The morning had been well spent, and as you returned home with Alex by your side, you knew you were ready to face whatever the day had in store.

After finishing your morning training, you and Alex returned to the house, the warmth of the interior a welcome contrast to the cool, crisp air outside. The shop could wait for a little while longer; right now, breakfast was calling, and you both needed to refuel after the exertion of the morning.

As you moved through the house, you could hear the soft sounds of Alex humming a tune to himself as he washed up, clearly in high spirits after the training session. You took the opportunity to freshen up as well, quickly washing away the sweat and dirt from the morning’s exercises. Once you were both clean and dressed in more comfortable clothes, you headed to the kitchen together to prepare breakfast.

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aromas of freshly brewed tea, warm bread, and sizzling eggs. Alex had insisted on helping, and you were more than happy to let him. He was getting quite skilled at cooking, and you enjoyed the quiet moments you spent together, preparing meals and chatting about whatever came to mind.

With breakfast ready, you both carried the plates to the living room, settling down on the couch with your food. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and you felt a sense of contentment as you began to eat.

But it wasn’t long before Alex’s curiosity got the better of him. As he took a bite of his toast, he shot you a mischievous look, his eyes gleaming with barely-contained excitement.

“So, Nana,” he began, his tone teasing, “what’s this I hear about you having dinner with Azriel tonight?”

You paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow at him. “And where exactly did you hear that?”

Alex shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but his grin gave him away. “Oh, you know, just some rumours going around… mostly from you and him talking last night. So, is it true? Are you going on a date with him?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, shaking your head in amusement. “Yes, Alex, it’s true. Azriel asked me to have dinner with him tonight.”

Alex’s grin widened, and he waggled his eyebrows in a way that was clearly meant to be playful. “Ooooh, a date with the Spymaster! Sounds serious, Nana. You must really like him.”

You felt a warmth rise to your cheeks, but you kept your tone light. “I do like him, Alex. He’s… different from anyone I’ve met before. But it’s just dinner. No need to get too carried away.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex said, his tone clearly teasing. “Just dinner. Sure. But you know, Nana, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just dinner to him.”

You took a sip of your tea, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at your lips. “And how exactly does he look at me, Mr. Expert?”

Alex leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms with a smug expression. “Like you’re the most important person in the world. Like he’d do anything for you. I mean, I’m just a kid, but even I can tell when someone’s got it bad.”

You chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. But seriously, Nana, I’m happy for you. Azriel’s a good guy, and I think you two would be great together.”

You smiled softly at his words, feeling a swell of affection for the boy who had become like family to you. “Thanks, Alex. That means a lot to me.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth of the morning and the simple pleasure of each other’s company. The teasing might have been playful, but there was a truth to it that you couldn’t deny. Azriel was special, and the thought of spending more time with him, of exploring whatever was growing between you, filled you with both excitement and a little bit of nervousness.

As you finished your breakfast, Alex gave you one last grin. “Just promise me one thing, Nana.”

“What’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you and Azriel do end up together, you’ve got to let me be the one to give the toast at your wedding.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head at his cheekiness. “Alright, Alex, you’ve got yourself a deal. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“Deal,” he said with a wink, clearly satisfied with himself.

With breakfast finished, you both got up to clear the table, the lighthearted mood lingering in the air. As you moved about the house, preparing for the day ahead, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation building. Tonight’s dinner with Azriel was going to be special—you could feel it. And whatever the future held, you knew you were ready to face it, with Alex by your side and, perhaps, Azriel as well.

The day had settled into a comfortable rhythm as you and Alex worked quietly in the shop. The clinking of metal and the gentle hum of the forge created a soothing background noise as you focused on your tasks. You were working on a set of generic weapons to display in the shop—well-crafted swords and daggers that could be sold to walk-in customers. Alex was nearby, organising the shelves and occasionally asking you questions about the different weapons you had made.

The morning had passed without incident, the shop quiet but steady with the occasional customer coming in to browse. It was a typical day in Velaris, and you found yourself enjoying the calm after a busy few weeks.

Just as you were finishing up the polishing of a particularly intricate dagger, the soft chime of the bell above the shop door rang out, signaling the arrival of a new customer. You glanced up, expecting to see a familiar face, but instead, a stranger stepped into the shop.

The man was dressed in a dark, hooded cloak that obscured much of his face, only his sharp, calculating eyes visible beneath the shadow of the hood. He moved with a quiet grace, his footsteps almost silent as he approached the counter where Alex was standing.

“Good day,” Alex greeted the man with his usual cheerful demeanor. “Can I help you with something?”

The man’s eyes flickered over the various weapons displayed around the shop, but he made no move to examine any of them. Instead, he reached into his cloak and produced a sealed letter, placing it on the counter with a deliberate motion.

“I have a request,” the man said, his voice low and measured. “Everything you need to know is in this letter.”

Alex looked at the letter with curiosity before glancing back up at the man. “We usually discuss orders in person. Can you give me a bit more detail about what you’re looking for?”

The man’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The details are all in the letter. The payment will be made upon delivery of the weapon.”

Alex frowned, clearly not satisfied with the vague response. “We typically work on a two-payment basis—half upfront, half upon delivery. It ensures that the materials and work are covered.”

The man didn’t respond to Alex’s statement. Instead, he simply pushed the letter closer to him, a silent insistence that the terms would be followed as written.

You had been listening from the back of the shop, where you were tending to the forge, but the strange exchange piqued your interest. Wiping your hands on a cloth, you stepped out from behind the counter and approached the mysterious customer, giving him a polite but curious look.

“Is there a problem?” you asked, your tone calm but with a slight edge of authority. You had dealt with difficult customers before, but there was something different about this one—something that put you on alert.

The man turned his attention to you, his gaze briefly scanning you as if assessing your worth. “No problem,” he said smoothly. “As I told the boy, everything you need to know is in the letter. The weapon must be crafted according to the specifications provided, and the payment will be made in full upon delivery.”

You exchanged a glance with Alex, who still looked uncertain, but you decided to take the letter and see for yourself what was so important. You picked up the sealed envelope, feeling the weight of it in your hand, and nodded to the man.

“Alright,” you said, your tone firm. “I’ll take a look at the request. But you should know that we don’t usually proceed without a down payment. It ensures that both parties are committed to the transaction.”

The man’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “You’ll find the payment terms satisfactory once the weapon is delivered. The craftsmanship you’re known for will be well-compensated.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the shop, leaving the door to swing shut behind him with a soft click. You watched him go, a strange feeling settling in your gut. There was something off about the entire interaction, and you couldn’t shake the unease that lingered in the air.

Alex looked up at you, his brow furrowed. “That was… weird, right?”

You nodded slowly, still holding the letter in your hand. “Definitely weird. Let’s see what this is all about.”

Carefully, you broke the seal on the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. The parchment was of high quality, and the handwriting was elegant, almost too perfect. As you read through the contents, your unease grew.

The letter detailed a request for a weapon that was unlike any you had crafted before. It was to be a blade of ancient design, infused with a specific type of magic that was rarely practiced anymore. The materials required were rare and dangerous to obtain, including a metal that was said to only be found in the darkest parts of the continent. The weapon needed to be completed within a week—an almost impossible deadline given the complexity of the work.

You frowned as you read further, noting the vague references to the purpose of the weapon. The client mentioned only that it was intended for use against a formidable enemy, but there were no specifics given. The secrecy and urgency of the request set off alarm bells in your mind.

“This doesn’t feel right,” you muttered, half to yourself and half to Alex, who had moved closer to read over your shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“The materials, the timeline, the secrecy… it’s all too much,” you replied, folding the letter and setting it down on the counter. “And the fact that he refuses to pay upfront is another red flag. Something about this feels… dangerous.”

Alex nodded, his expression serious. “So, what do we do? Are we going to take the order?”

You hesitated, torn between your curiosity and your instincts. The challenge of crafting such a weapon was undeniably intriguing, but the risks were high, and you didn’t like the idea of being drawn into something you didn’t fully understand.

“I’m not sure yet,” you said finally. “I need to think about it. Maybe do some research on the materials and the magic involved. But I’m not making any decisions until I know more.”

Alex nodded, trusting your judgment. “Alright. Just… be careful, Nana. This feels like it could be bigger than we realize.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, though the unease still lingered in your chest. “I will, Alex. Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out together.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the forge, the mysterious letter still weighing heavily on your mind. Whatever this order was, it had the potential to change everything—and not necessarily for the better.

——

The evening was drawing closer, and you found yourself in your apartment, standing in front of the mirror with a growing sense of frustration. You had been rifling through your wardrobe for what felt like an eternity, trying to find the perfect outfit for your date with Azriel. The more you looked, the more you second-guessed yourself, and now your room was strewn with discarded clothes, each one deemed "not quite right."

Alex was sitting on the edge of your bed, watching you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Stellan, your loyal white direwolf, was lying at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes following your every move with what seemed like a judgmental gaze.

You held up a tunic in front of the mirror, frowning at your reflection. "What do you think of this one?" you asked, turning slightly to get a better look.

Alex rolled his eyes dramatically, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nana, aren't you like, over a hundred years old? And you're struggling to pick an outfit for a date? Seriously?"

You shot him a playful glare through the mirror. "Age has nothing to do with it, thank you very much. And picking the right outfit is important!"

Alex snorted, leaning back on his hands. "Uh-huh. Sure. But honestly, you look good in everything. I don't think Azriel's going to care what you wear."

You sighed, tossing the tunic onto the growing pile of rejected clothes. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to impress anyone."

Alex grinned, clearly enjoying the role reversal. "Oh, come on, Nana. It's just a date. You should be more worried about what you're going to say, not what you're going to wear."

You turned to face him, hands on your hips. "And what exactly do you suggest I say, oh wise one?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I dunno. Maybe start with 'Hey, Azriel, nice wings. Wanna fly me to the moon?'"

You burst out laughing, shaking your head at his antics. "I think I'll pass on that one."

Stellan, sensing that this was a lighter moment, let out a low huff, almost as if he was agreeing with Alex. The wolf’s eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement, and you could have sworn he was judging your fashion choices just as much as Alex was.

You sighed again and picked up a different top, this one more form-fitting. You held it up in front of the mirror, trying to gauge if it was too casual or too dressy.

Alex’s eyes narrowed as he examined the outfit with a critical eye. “Are your boobs bigger?” he asked, completely deadpan.

Your eyes widened, and you turned to him in mock horror. “What? Do I look like I’ve gained weight?”

Alex’s expression quickly shifted to one of concern as he realized his joke had backfired. “No, no! I didn’t mean that! You’re not fat, Nana, I promise!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered reaction, shaking your head as you tossed the shirt aside. “I’m just messing with you, Alex. Relax.”

He let out a sigh of relief, clearly relieved that you weren’t upset. “You had me worried for a second there.”

You smiled warmly at him, ruffling his hair as you walked past him to grab another option from the wardrobe. “You’re sweet, Alex. But seriously, does this look okay?”

You were dressed in a deep, midnight blue tunic that fell gracefully to mid-thigh, the intricate silver embroidery along the edges mimicking the swirling patterns of wind and shadows, reminiscent of the Night Court itself. The sleeves were fitted, flaring slightly at the wrists, ending in cuffs adorned with the same silver embroidery. Beneath the tunic, you wore black, form-fitting trousers that allowed for ease of movement, and knee-high boots made of soft, supple leather, both practical and stylish. A delicate silver chain belt sat low on your hips, catching the light with each movement.

To combat the winter chill, you had chosen a warm, dark jacket to wear over your tunic. The jacket was made of a rich, dark material, lined with soft fur along the collar and cuffs, providing both warmth and a touch of luxury. It complemented the rest of your outfit perfectly, giving you a regal yet grounded appearance.

Alex, who had been observing your preparations with a mix of amusement and interest, gave you an approving nod as you fastened the jacket. "Now that's what I’m talking about, Nana. You look amazing. Azriel’s going to be speechless."

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the jacket. “Thanks, Alex. I think this is the one.”

Stellan, your ever-faithful direwolf, gave a low, approving rumble as if to agree. His dark eyes gleamed in the dim light of the room, his presence a comforting constant.

Just as you finished getting ready, there was a soft knock on the door. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing who it was. Alex, ever the eager one, darted to the door with a mischievous grin on his face.

“I’ll get it!” he called out, clearly excited to greet your guest.

You watched as Alex opened the door, revealing Azriel standing there, but tonight he looked different. Gone were his usual fighting leathers, replaced with something more relaxed yet still undeniably stylish. He wore a tailored, dark grey tunic with subtle silver accents that highlighted his broad shoulders, paired with black trousers that fit him perfectly. A deep, rich cloak hung loosely around his shoulders, the fabric swaying gently as he moved. The entire look was casual yet elegant, perfectly suited for a night out in Velaris.

Alex, not missing a beat, looked up at Azriel with a teasing grin. “Wow, you clean up nice, Azriel. Ready to take Nana out for the night?”

Azriel chuckled, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips. “I think so, Alex. And you, Y/N…” His eyes softened as they took in your appearance. “You look stunning.”

A blush crept up your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Azriel. You look quite handsome yourself.”

Alex, always quick with a quip, shot you a look that clearly said, “Told you so,” before turning back to Azriel. “Make sure she has fun, okay? And don’t worry about me—I’ll be just fine.”

You ruffled Alex’s hair affectionately, laughing at his antics. “There’s food on the counter if you get hungry, and Stellan will keep you company. Stay safe at home, alright?”

Alex grinned, giving you a mock salute. “Aye-aye, Captain. You two have fun.”

With a final glance at Alex and Stellan, you stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you. Azriel offered you his arm, which you took with a grateful smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in his presence.

As you walked down the quiet streets of Velaris, the cold winter air nipping at your cheeks, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation. The stars above twinkled brightly, reflecting off the river as you made your way to your destination.

Azriel’s presence beside you was steady and reassuring, and as you walked together, he glanced over at you with a soft smile. “I’m glad you agreed to this, Y/N. Tonight feels… special.”

You returned his smile, feeling the truth in his words. “It does. I’m looking forward to it.”

The walk through Velaris was quiet and peaceful, with only the soft murmur of the city and the gentle rush of the Sidra River accompanying your steps. Azriel led you through winding streets, each more charming than the last, until you arrived at your destination—a small, secluded restaurant nestled at the edge of the city, overlooking the river.

The restaurant was a hidden gem, its entrance tucked between two tall buildings, with a beautifully carved wooden sign hanging above the door. Soft, golden light spilled from the windows, casting a warm glow onto the cobblestone street outside. As Azriel opened the door for you, you were greeted by the cozy, intimate atmosphere inside. The interior was all dark wood and rich, deep colors, with low-hanging chandeliers that gave off a soft, inviting light. The tables were set with fine linens and polished silver, each one adorned with a small vase of fresh flowers.

Azriel guided you to a corner table near a large window that offered a stunning view of the river, its waters shimmering under the starlit sky. The space was quiet, the other patrons speaking in hushed tones, as if respecting the privacy of each table.

“This place is beautiful,” you remarked, taking in the ambiance as you settled into your seat.

Azriel smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorite places in the city—a bit of a hidden secret.”

You glanced around, noting the small details that made the place feel special—the soft music playing in the background, the delicate scent of the flowers, the way the light flickered gently from the candles on the tables. It was clear that Azriel had chosen this place with care, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture made your heart warm.

As you both perused the menu, the conversation flowed easily, beginning with the lighter topics of the day. After placing your orders, you found yourself curious about Azriel’s childhood, a side of him that you had never truly explored before.

“So,” you began with a playful smile, “tell me, what was it like growing up with Rhysand and Cassian? I imagine the three of you must have gotten into quite a bit of trouble.”

Azriel chuckled, a soft, genuine sound that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You could say that. Rhysand was always the leader, even back then, and Cassian… well, he was always looking for the next adventure. I was the quiet one, trying to keep them out of too much trouble, but somehow, I always ended up in the thick of it with them.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “Any stories you’re willing to share?”

Azriel thought for a moment, a distant look in his eyes as he recalled memories from long ago. “There was this one time when we were barely teenagers. Rhys had this idea to sneak into the Night Court’s library after hours. There was this old, restricted section that we weren’t supposed to go near, full of ancient texts and magical tomes.”

You smiled, already picturing the scene. “Let me guess, Rhys wanted to read something forbidden?”

“Of course,” Azriel replied, his tone amused. “He convinced Cassian and me to come along, promising it would be worth it. We managed to sneak past the guards, and Rhys found a book he’d been eyeing for months. But as soon as he opened it, a magical trap triggered. The entire library lit up, alarms blaring. We barely made it out before the guards arrived.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m surprised you didn’t get caught.”

“Oh, we did,” Azriel admitted with a grin. “And we were punished accordingly. But Rhys, being Rhys, somehow talked our way out of the worst of it. He’s always had a way with words.”

You could see the fondness in Azriel’s eyes as he spoke of his friends, the bonds they had formed over the years clearly unbreakable. It was a side of him you hadn’t seen often—relaxed, open, and willing to share pieces of himself that he usually kept hidden.

“And what about you?” Azriel asked, turning the conversation back to you. “What was your childhood like? I know you traveled a lot with your master, but there must have been some interesting moments along the way.”

You took a sip of your wine, considering how to answer. “It was… different. My master was strict, but he cared for me in his own way. I learned a lot from him, not just about blacksmithing, but about the world. We traveled to so many places, each with its own challenges and adventures. I suppose I grew up faster than most.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “You must have seen and experienced so much. It’s no wonder you’re as skilled as you are.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his words. “I suppose I have. But I’ve always felt like there’s more to learn, more to explore. That’s what keeps me going.”

The conversation continued, flowing effortlessly as the night went on. The food arrived, each dish more delicious than the last, and you both took your time savoring the meal, the comfortable silence between you punctuated by occasional remarks about the flavors and presentation.

Eventually, as the meal began to wind down, Azriel leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on you with a mix of curiosity and concern. “So, how are things at the shop? It seems like you’ve been busy lately.”

You nodded, setting down your fork. “Busy is an understatement. We’ve had a lot of orders coming in, which is great, but it’s been a bit overwhelming at times.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed slightly. “Anything in particular causing the stress?”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to share the details of the strange order you had received that morning. “Actually, there was something unusual that came in today. A man came by with a sealed letter, requesting a weapon that’s… well, different from anything I’ve crafted before. The whole thing felt off, to be honest. He didn’t want to discuss the details in person, just handed over the letter and left.”

Azriel’s curiosity was piqued, his expression serious now. “What kind of weapon did he request?”

You described the contents of the letter, the specific materials required, the urgency of the timeline, and the vagueness of the client’s instructions. As you spoke, Azriel’s frown deepened, his concern evident.

“That does sound strange,” he said after a moment. “And dangerous. You’re right to be cautious.”

You nodded, grateful for his validation. “I’m not sure what to make of it. I’ve been debating whether to take the order at all. It feels like there’s more to this than I’m being told.”

Azriel leaned forward slightly, his tone gentle but firm. “I think you’re right to be wary. Whoever this client is, they might be hiding something. If you’re going to proceed with this, you should be prepared for anything.”

You appreciated his concern, and the protectiveness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll show you the letter when we head back. Maybe you can help me figure out what to do next.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze steady. “I’d like that. We’ll look at it together.”

The seriousness of the conversation lingered for a moment, but Azriel was quick to steer the topic back to something lighter, easing the tension and bringing back the relaxed atmosphere.

The dinner stretched on into the night, with more laughter, shared stories, and the easy comfort of each other's company. The restaurant had thinned out as other patrons gradually departed, leaving the two of you in a peaceful, intimate silence. It felt as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the rest of Velaris fading into the background.

When the time finally came to leave, Azriel stood and helped you into your jacket, the warmth of his hands lingering on your shoulders. As you stepped out into the cold night air, he reached for your hand without hesitation, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, as if they were always meant to be there.

The two of you walked side by side through the quiet streets of Velaris, the city bathed in the soft, silver light of the moon. The stars twinkled brightly above, casting a gentle glow over the cobblestones, and the distant sound of the Sidra River added a soothing backdrop to the night.

The winter air was crisp, and when a particularly cold breeze swept through, Azriel instinctively drew you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to shield you from the chill. You welcomed the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm against your side.

As you walked, your thumb gently caressed the back of his hand, feeling the roughness of the scarred skin beneath your touch. You noticed how his breath hitched slightly, and when you glanced up at him, you saw something flicker in his eyes—a mix of surprise and something deeper, something tender.

Azriel’s hands had always been a point of insecurity for him, scarred from countless battles and years of wielding shadows and steel. But you had never once questioned them, never looked at them with anything other than acceptance. In fact, you had always found them strong, capable, and a part of who he was—someone you respected and cared for deeply.

The simple act of you caressing his hand, without hesitation or judgment, made Azriel’s heart flutter in a way he wasn’t entirely prepared for. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the way you saw him—not as the scarred, hardened warrior, but as someone worthy of affection and tenderness.

He glanced down at you, his gaze softening as he spoke. “You never asked about my hands.”

You looked up at him, your expression gentle. “There’s nothing to ask. They’re a part of you, Azriel. And I’ve never seen them as anything but… you.”

His heart swelled at your words, and he tightened his grip on your hand slightly, as if anchoring himself to the moment. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled up at him, your thumb still brushing gently against his skin. “Always.”

The two of you continued walking, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as the night unfolded around you. The streets of Velaris were nearly empty, the city’s usual hustle and bustle replaced by the peaceful quiet of the late hour. The stars above seemed to shine even brighter, casting a silvery glow over everything and creating an almost magical atmosphere.

As you walked, you found yourself asking a question that had been on your mind. “Azriel, what do you think life will be like for you in the next few years?”

He paused, considering your question as he looked up at the night sky. “Honestly? I think it’ll be much the same as it is now. My duties as the Spymaster of the Night Court will keep me busy—there’s always something to uncover, some threat to deal with. And, of course, Cassian will never stop making jokes at my expense.”

You chuckled at that, picturing the constant banter between Azriel and Cassian. “I’m sure he keeps things interesting.”

Azriel smiled, his gaze shifting back to you. “He does. But… I think I’m starting to appreciate the moments of peace more, the times when I can step back and just… be.”

“And what about you?” he asked, his tone curious. “What do you see in the next few years?”

You took a moment to think about it, your eyes drifting to the beautiful city around you. “I think I’ll stay in Velaris for a long time. Alex and I have built something special here, and I want to see it grow. The shop is doing well, and I’d like to keep developing it, maybe even expand one day. Stellan will keep us company, of course.”

Azriel nodded, listening intently. “That sounds… peaceful. It suits you.”

You smiled softly, feeling a sense of contentment in the vision you were painting. But as you walked, the conversation took a natural pause, and you both found yourselves stopping, turning to face each other in the quiet street.

There was something unspoken hanging in the air, a tension that had been building throughout the night, and it felt like the moment to address it had finally arrived. You met Azriel’s gaze, your heart pounding softly in your chest as you spoke.

“Whatever happens in the next few years,” you began, your voice steady but soft, “I hope that… we’ll be close. That we’ll be linked somehow.”

Azriel’s expression softened, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Linked, huh? I like the sound of that.”

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the moon and stars. The night was stunningly beautiful, the kind of night that seemed to embody everything the Night Court stood for—mystery, beauty, and an underlying power that was impossible to ignore.

Azriel’s hand came up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your breath catch. He leaned in slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away, but you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was gentle at first, a sweet exploration of new territory. But as you responded, as you pressed closer to him, it deepened, growing more intense, more urgent. His hand slid into your hair, pulling you closer still, and you melted into him, letting the warmth of his embrace and the passion of the moment wash over you.

By the time you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. The world seemed to have stopped around you, leaving just the two of you in the stillness of the night.

Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, his breath warm against your lips. “Y/N…”

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him. “Yes, Azriel?”

He didn’t say anything else, just leaned in to kiss you again, his lips claiming yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. And in that moment, under the stars of Velaris, you knew that this was just the beginning of something truly extraordinary.

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#a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar #acotar x you #cassian #rhysand acotar #rhysand

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notroosterbradshaw · 10 months

Text

about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised.

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand...

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening.

Ahh, sisters.

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock.

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before.

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly.

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.”

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours."

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today."

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly.

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy."

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time.

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…”

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole.

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world.

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.”

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled.

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times.

The one per cent, he’s told you once before.

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable).

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again.

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound."

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him.

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious.

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.”

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.”

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him.

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it.

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip.

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?”

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.”

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time.

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging.

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start.

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up.

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were.

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come.

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts.

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him.

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it.

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too.

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no.

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frost-queen · 6 months

Text

Coming down sick (Daughter!R & The Warrens)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

The tv was playing as you were all gathered around it. Your parents in one sofa, your dad’s arm over hers. You sat in the other sofa with a blanket over you. You pulled it tighter around you, letting out a shiver. It alerted your mom Lorraine. – “Are you cold honey?” – she questioned. Ed looked around, trying to feel the temperature for himself. – “It is rather warm in the room.” – he stated lowering his hand once more.

“Just a cold shiver.” – you responded, not sure what it was. – “Okay.” – Lorraine answered turning her attention to the tv once more. You snuggled under your blanket to keep as much of your own body heat as close as possible. After half an hour or so, you started to feel sleepy. Your eyes almost falling shut. Blinking rapidly, you sat yourself better.

It made your dad look briefly at you, reposition yourself. You couldn’t understand as you felt wide awake an hour ago. Not long your eyelids started to fall shut. You let them close for a second, before waking yourself up. Flashing your eyes back open to focus on the tv. You hid a yawn by moving your blanket in front of your mouth. Lorraine laughed at something on the tv.

Overcome with exhaustion, you were debating to give in to it or not. It was just 8pm. Barely any time to go to sleep, unless you were a child. For a brief moment, you were wide awake. Only for the exhaustion to kick in double. This time you yawned loud, body shivering. – “That boring?” – Ed joked pointing with the remote to the tv. You shook your head. – “Just a bit tired.” – you responded.

“Do you need some Camille tea?” – Lorraine suggested. You politely shook your head. – “No thank you mom. I think I’m just going to head upstairs. Occupy myself a bit to get this out of my body.” – you went on, pulling the blanket from you. – “Okay.” – Lorraine spoke watching you get up. You went over to them, bending over to give them a kiss on their cheek.

“Night mom.” – you said receiving a kiss on your forehead in return. – “Night dad.” – you then spoke, leaving a kiss on his cheek. Ed drew a cross on your forehead for protection. Something he had done since you were born. It was a habit now. – “Night darling.” – he answered.

You left the room, heading upstairs. Hearing the last of your father chuckle at something on tv. Getting up the stairs, you started to notice just how exhausted your limbs were. Feet barely wanting to move. Your knees buckled as you needed to clamp onto the railing to stay upright. Panting loud, you had no idea what your body was experiencing.

With a lot of effort you, made your way up. Everything felt sore. Groaning soft, you barely had the strength to brush your teeth, but you did anyways. Entering your room, you wondered what to do to occupy yourself. To get yourself to wake up again. Nothing came to mind or seemed to tiring to put the energy into it.

With a soft groan, you let yourself fall onto your bed, face forwards. Your mind told you to get back up, but your body wouldn’t budge. Instead they kept laying stubbornly still. Exhaling loud, your eyes closed as your world turned blank.

Lorraine and Ed silently went up the stairs. – “I’ll just check up on our girl.” – Lorraine said standing in the corridor upstairs. Ed nodded heading for the bathroom. Lorraine knocked gentle on your door. – “Y/n, your dad and I are going to bed. You should too…” – she said upon entering.

She frowned seeing you lay down on your bed, the lights still on. Lorraine approached the bed. – “You must’ve been really tired.” – she whispered, lifting your legs up to move them under the blanket. She then pushed your body a bit, to get you to lay in a more comfortable way. She tugged you in, leaving one last kiss on your head.

Flashing the lights out, she left your room. She joined Ed in the bathroom. – “Already fast asleep.” – she told him. He hummed soft with his toothbrush in his mouth. They went to their bedroom. The Warren’s house falling silent.

Around 3 pm you woke up. Your sleep interrupted by own doing. Your mind simply let you know to open your eyes. Groaning soft, you sat up, rubbing your eye. Then the soreness came. A pain moving through your limbs. They shuddered as you shivered. Despite it being blazing hot under the covers, were you cold.

You had to lay down again, not sure what was happening. Touching your forehead, you felt that it was warm. Rather hot. Wrapping the covers around you, you tried to close your eyes once more. It was no use as the bothering in your body was ever present. Tiredness expressed in your limbs as everything felt too exhausting.

Even your limbs resting felt tiring. Touching your forehead again, you knew you were coming down with a fever. Exhaling deep, you rolled over. Eyes wide open as you couldn’t catch any sleep. Staring at your wall, you watched the hours tick by till morning hit.

You heard your parent’s bedroom door open. They were awake. You barely had it in you to get up. Stomach hurting now as well. Since you’ve been awake for several hours now, your stomach interpreted it into I need food. There was no denying it now. You were sick. Groaning loud, you rolled over to the other side. You knew your parents had an important interview. One they couldn’t miss.

You didn’t want to be the reason for them missing the interview. There was only one option left. You needed to lie. There was a knock on the door. – “Honey time to wake up.” – it was your dad, speaking through the door. – “Okay.” – you answered. You waited for his footsteps to die out before leaving your room. Rushing into the bathroom. You almost freaked out at the state of you.

The lack of sleep wasn’t glorifying with the illness. You looked even worse. Splashing some water in your face, you hoped to wake up more. When it appeared presentable enough, you got dressed and went downstairs. Your muscles aching with sore and tiredness. Every step, every movement felt like taking up too much energy.

“Morning Y/n darling.” – Lorraine said baking some eggs. – “Morning my girl.” – Ed spoke whilst setting the table. Normally you’d help him out, but today it felt too exhausting. You sat down, trying to look alive as possible. Lorraine quirked her eyebrow up, eyeing her husband at your unusual behaviour. Ed shrugged it off, thinking it probably just wasn’t your day. – “So honey, you know mom and I have that interview today right.” – Ed began.

You forced a smile, knowing it damn too well. – “You’ll have to eat lunch alone. Don’t worry we’ll be back around 5.” – he explained coming to sit down as well. Lorraine hummed loud to agree. – “Okay…” – you responded softly. – “It is only for a couple of hours.” – Lorraine said, setting the pan down. She moved over to you, kissing your head before you could keep her at bay.

Her eyes widened slightly, moving your head back, pressing her hand against your forehead to feel. – “Mom.” – you groaned out, pushing her hand away. – “Y/n feels hot.” – she expressed wanting to feel again. You slapped her hand away. – “I’m fine. Just go do your interview.” – you answered a bit bitsy.

“Y/n?” – Ed said confused to from where your sudden behaviour came. – “What’s wrong?” – he asked. – “Nothing.” – you replied. Lorraine surprise attacked you, pressing her hand against your forehead again. – “You’re burning up. Are you coming down with a fever?” – she called out worried. – “That’s it, we’ll post-pone the interview.” – Ed declared. – “No!” – you blurted out. – “Y/n…” – Lorraine looked worriedly at you. – “It’s just an interview.” – she explained.

“A really important one. Me being sick isn’t a reason for you to stay home.” – you ratted yourself out with your own stupidness. Sighed soft, there was no lying about it anymore. – “Were you feeling like this since last night?” – Lorraine wanted to know. You nodded as she tilted her head to the side. – “Y/n darling why didn’t you say anything.” – she asked. – “Because you had that interview.” – you explained. Ed got up, going round the table. – “Nothing is more important than our girl.” – he wrapped his arms around you.

Lorraine joined, giving you a good squeeze. – “Ed, post-pone the interview.” – Lorraine ordered. Ed nodded, already heading over to the phone. She took your hand, pulling you up. – “We are going to take care of our daughter.” – she said. She helped you back upstairs, tugging you back in. Ed came running up the stairs with some medicine.

Lorraine accepted it, assisting you to some medicine. – “You’ll feel better and be able to get some sleep.” – she said. Ed laid his hand on her shoulder. – “We’ll be right here.” – he spoke. You smiled at your parents before laying your head down and trying to catch in on that sleep.

---------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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justwritedreams · 4 months

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Uncle Marcus | Mark Lee

Domestic!Mark x Reader Genre: pure fluff Word count: 751 Warnings: mention of wisdom tooth removal Note: This is all for myself while I recover, would I like Mark to be my nephew's uncle? Yes definitely🤧

⪢ NCT Masterlist

Y/N heard her nephew's voice sing through the house, humming her name and she just smiled lightly, as much as she could at that moment and adjusted herself better in bed knowing that the two and a half year old baby would come running at any moment. “Uncle Marcus arrived!” the little boy announced at the door of his aunt's room and she held back her laughter with her hand over her mouth, already imagining her boyfriend's face. A few seconds passed before she saw her boyfriend's familiar face pass through the doorway in a kind of shock and disappointment upon hearing the wrong name, he was holding the small hand of Y/N's nephew who was bringing him to her room. "Hey love." Mark approached the bed and gave Y/N a quick kiss on the forehead. "How are you?" “Swollen.” she pointed to her left cheek and saw Mark laugh lightly as he looked at her. Her face was actually slightly more swollen compared to the other side but that was expected, considering that removing the tooth would do just that. “Any pain?” he asked worriedly and she shook her head. “I just feel sleepy.” she replied, lying down on the bed again. She still felt the anesthesia in her mouth, it had only been two hours since she had her wisdom teeth removed so the effects were still there. “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” he assured and approached to give her a light peck, both Y/N and her nephew laughed. The nephew for finding the scene amusing and Y/N for feeling just one side of Mark's mouth press against hers. "What?" He laughed awkwardly. “I don’t feel anything on that side.” She explained, pointing to her own mouth and he laughed along. “Rest, okay?” he asked and she nodded. “Your nephew and I have a lot to play with.” Y/N admired her boyfriend holding her nephew in his arms, the little boy loved Mark and tired the boy until he himself fell asleep but it was a great battle because Y/N's nephew always fell asleep first. She just watched the two leave the room as her eyes grew heavier and heavier and she gave in to sleep.

[…]

Y/N started to wake up to the sound of the guitar chords, it was familiar, Mark tried to teach her nephew to play the guitar from an early age and the little one always had fun with the instrument, more hitting his own hand than playing the strings but he liked the songs and Mark singing for him. Just like Y/N, who didn't move to avoid attracting attention, she just watched her boyfriend and nephew sitting on the floor in their own little world. She enjoyed watching the interaction between the two, the two favorite people in her life adored each other and she couldn't feel happier. “Listen, grandpa and grandma are here.” Mark announced to the little one that clapped his hands and got up quickly, with the help of the older one and ran out of the room, Mark followed him a little late and came back a while later. “I didn’t see you woke up.” he said to his girlfriend as soon as he saw her eyes open, he sat next to her on the bed and took his hand to caress her back. “He adores you, you know?” Mark smiled widely, he also liked him as if he were his own nephew. And in fact he felt like it was. “He just needs to learn to say my name correctly, right.” Y/N laughed at Mark's disappointed expression. “One day I’m Marcus, the next Maku, he’s even said Mork.” “Will you believe me if I tell you that when you’re not here he says your name right?” Mark looked at her in disbelief. “I feel defeated.” He threw himself on the bed next to Y/N who stroked his hair lightly as he made himself better on the bed. “You’re his favorite uncle.” Y/N remembered and he nodded. “And he’s my favorite nephew.” Y/N laughed. “Because he’s the only one.” They both laughed and Mark turned to face her. “Thank you for coming today.” He moved closer to kiss the tip of her nose. “I said I would come and take care of you. Your parents have a child to look after and so do I.” Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Okay, Uncle Marcus.”

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reputationmunson · 1 year

Text

Crossing Lines | S.H x fem!reader

part one | part two | part 3 | part 4

series summary: Steve isn’t your biggest fan, so why does he ask you to be his date to a wedding? | enemies to lovers, fake dating

chapter summary: time to meet the family!

content: you and steve go shopping, meeting his family, mentions of drinking, food mention, swearing, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, a little surprise at the end ;)

word count: 4.7k

The piercing ring of the phone wakes Steve from his deep sleep and putting a pillow over his head doesn’t drown out the sound even a little bit. He begrudgingly throws his blanket and grumbles obscenities until he reaches the phone.

“Hello?” he answers with an abrasive tone. “Good morning to you too, sunshine” your voice sounds way too happy for someone who’s awake this early. “y/n? Why the hell are you calling me this early?”

“Do you always talk to your girlfriends like this? No wonder you’re still single.’’ you tease and he lets out an overdramatic, loud sigh. “Get to the point it’s too early for this”

“It’s almost ten in the morning that isn’t exactly the break of dawn, but anyways, I need to know if you work today”

“Yeah, I do” he lies. “Liar! I already asked Robin and she told me that you’re off today” he can practically hear your ‘know-it-all-’ smirk over the phone. “I’m five seconds away from hanging up”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties in a twist. We need to go shopping today” you tell him and he scoffs at your words “We? Why do I need to go?”

“You said all expenses paid and I need new clothes for our couples getaway, therefore, you’re going shopping with me”

“It’s not a couple’s gateway” is all he says. “That’s all semantics, Stevie”

“Do you even know what semantics means?” he asks “do you?” you reply, turning the tables. His lips purse while he tries to thinks of an answer. He’s got nothing. “Whatever. I’ll pick you up in an hour” he hands up before giving you a chance to gloat.

Steve shows up to your house an hour and a half later and he expects nothing less than you reprimanding him for it. You walk outside wearing a dress that might be a bad idea for a breezy day like today, but it’s still a pretty dress. He tells himself that only the dress looks pretty, not the person wearing it. Your sparkly lip gloss that anyone from a mile away can see, looks pretty too, but not because it’s on your lips. He can just appreciate a nice gloss, that’s it.

“Thirty minutes late, mister. That isn’t very ‘boyfriend’ of you” you say as soon as you get into the car. “How about a ‘thank you’ for picking you up? That isn’t very ‘girlfriend’ of you” he rebuttals.

“Hush, I’m the perfect girlfriend. Can I play some music?” you ask and he turns the radio on. “Oh, I love this song!” you cheer when you change the station and ‘We Belong’ by Pat Benatar comes on. “Of course you do” he says and you roll your eyes at him while turning up the radio. In all honesty, he likes this song, but he’ll never admit that out loud.

You sing every word, not too loudly, but loud enough that Steve can hear. Your singing isn’t horrible, but he knows every time he hears this song he’s going to associate it with you. “Why are you always so grouchy? You constantly have a look on your face like someone put salt in your sugar shaker”

“Thanks for putting off your concert long enough to ask me that” he turns the radio down until there's almost no music and you turn it back up a smidge. “See! You’re a total butthead” you argue. “Butthead? Are we five?”

“That’s such a butthead response”

“Then how about we don’t talk for the rest of the car ride? Kay?” he impolitely suggests and you cross your arms. “Fine”

“Fine”

So you sit in silence for the rest of the time you’re in the car, aside from your soft singing. It drives Steve insane.

The mall was quite busy for a Tuesday and it takes Steve three loops around the parking lot to find a decent spot.

“I told you to just park in the back. We could’ve saved so much time”

“What did I say about not talking while we’re in the car?” he asks, rhetorically. You quickly step out of the car and repeat yourself “I told you to just park in the back. We could’ve saved so much time. I’m not in the car, so you can’t get mad at me! C’mon, let's go!”

Steve sighs before taking the keys out of the ignition and following behind you. Once you reach the entrance you hold your hand out to him. He looks down at your hand and back up at you “What’s that?”

“It’s a hand, Steve. Ya know, most people have one attached to the end of their arm and-”

“What do you want me to do with your hand, smartass’’ he cuts you off. “We’re supposed to be getting used to acting like a couple, so hold my hand” your hand is still held out and you shake it in front of him. “Nope. No way” he pushes your hand but you reach it out again. “Stop being a butthead, yes I said it again because you’re acting like a five year old”

He reluctantly takes your hand and your fingers lace together. “Wow, look at that. You didn’t even burst into flames” you taunt. He doesn’t hate it as much as he thought it would. Your hands are soft and he notices that your nails match the color of your dress. It’s kind of cute.

Steve tries to shield his face with his hand and you laugh at him. “That’s not gonna work. People come from all over to see that head of hair, so they’ll be able to tell that it’s you holding my hand. I hope you’ll be able to survive this tragic event”

He removes his hand from his face “People do not come from all over just to see my hair.” he grumbles. “It’s called a joke, Steve. Since I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile whenever I’m around then I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t know that”

“Let’s just get this over with. Where are we going first?” you drag him to the first store and Steve is convinced everyone is staring at him while he holds your hand. (literally no one is giving either of you a second glance).

“Hold this for me, baby” you hand him a sundress and he grimaces at the nickname “Is holding hands not enough? You gotta call me ‘baby’ too?” he complains. “Get used to it, baby”

After only ten minutes in the store, Steve has a stack of clothes piled in his arms. “Are you really buying all of this?” he asks. “I’m not buying anything, you are, but I have to try it on first and you have to give me your opinion”

“My opinion is that you’re going to look horrible in all of it”

“You say that now, but you’ve never seen me in this shade of pink” you point to one of the dresses in his hand that isn’t holding yours. “I’ve seen you in every shade of every color. Your closet looks like a box of crayons exploded”

“You remember what colors I have in my wardrobe? Sounds like you’re a bit obsessed with me”

“In your dreams…babe? Ugh that sounded weird. Can you try this shit on now? My arm is about to fall off” He whines. “Yeah, I wouldn't want you to break a nail. Wait outside the dressing room so I can show you how it looks” you tell him. “Can’t wait” he replies, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

Steve checks his watch every thirty seconds because how long does it take to try on one dress?

“Spend your whole life waitin’ on your woman, don’t ya?” an older gentleman asks him. “Uh, yeah. I guess so” chuckles. “My wife, Ethel, over there” he points in the direction of where his wife stands “always takes her sweet time. After forty years of marriage I’m still always waitin’ on her, but she still looks so damn beautiful that it’s worth it”

“Harold, leave the poor boy alone, honey” His wife says when she wanders over to her husband. “No, I don’t mind. I’m just waiting for my girl to show me her new dress” Steve says. He said ‘my girl’ so naturally he didn’t even realize it until he finished his sentence.

“Steve, what do you think- oh, hi!” you greet the couple and introduce yourself. “That’s a beautiful dress, don’t ya think Steve?” Harold asks him. “y-yeah. You look great, sweetheart” he smiles. You do look great. The color of the dress compliments your skin tone perfectly and makes your eyes pop.

“How long have you two been together?” Ethel asks. “Five months” you both say at the same time. “Oh, young love. It’s truly a wonderful thing. I feel like I’m looking in a mirror from forty years ago” She expresses and puts her hand over her heart. “We’ll let you kids get back to it. Enjoy the rest of your day” Harold says. “Thank you, you too!” you respond before they walk away.

“So, um, tell me what you really thing about this dress”

“I think it looks great” he replies. “Really? No snarky comment? Did that old couple make you go all soft on me, Harrington?”

“Not in a million years. Go try the other shit on I don’t wanna be here all day” he carps. “Okay, I’m going, but don’t fall in love with me after seeing how good I look in this next one!” yeah, right he thinks.

After a fashion show and a dent in his bank account, you finally leave the store. Most of your outfits were casual, but cute and preppy enough to impress his family. You even found a dress to wear to the wedding. “I have to get a new bathing suit. Or three new bathing suits” you announce as you walk past a store with all the summer essentials. “Three? For what reason?”

“You said your family members are all staying in lake houses and I need to be prepared. I’m also assuming this fancy hotel we’re staying in has a pool” you explain. “Oh, and how come we aren’t staying in a lake house?” you wonder. “My parents weren’t gonna rent a house for just me. I even told them I was bringing my “girlfriend”, but we’re still staying in a hotel twenty minutes away from everyone” he answers. “Oh no, we’re staying in an expensive hotel with all the amenities we could ever need. Should I bring a survival kit?” you gibe.

“Just go get your swimsuits and don’t make me watch you model them” he pleads. “Why? Scared you’ll like what you see?” Yes, he thinks to himself. “Nope. Just starving. I’m gonna go grab something from the food court” he says before scurrying off.

“Hey, can I get two soft pretzels and two lemonades, please?”

“Steve Harrington?” He hears a woman's voice and turns around. “It’s me! Beth!”

“Beth, hi!” He greets. Steve went on a date with Beth a few months ago and she never called him back. He actually really liked her, too. Until she ditched him for her new boyfriend.

“How are you? Hungry?” She asks when she she's the two pretzels and drinks in his hand. “Oh, um, ones for me and ones for my… girlfriend. She’s shopping right now- oh look, there she is! Baby, I’m over here!” he waves to get your attention.

“Aw, you got me something? You’re so sweet, Stevie” you kiss his cheek and it takes everything in him to not act weirded out. “Babe, this is Beth. Beth this is my girl, y/n”

“Nice to meet you, y/n. It was good to see you, Steve” she says and saunters off. “Did you really have to kiss my cheek?” he wipes your lipgloss off of his face. “Give me a soft pretzel and I’ll do just about anything”

“Gross” he mutters, “Are you done shopping yet?” he groans. “Yes, I’m done. Thanks again for the pretzel. That was actually really nice” you smile at him. “Don’t thank me yet. I poisoned it” he jokes and you chuckle. “Thank god. Then I wouldn’t have to spend three whole days with you”

“Well, actually, we have to go up thursday” he tells you and you stop in your tracks. “Thursday? That's in two days and I have so much to do!” you exclaim. “You’ll just have to get it done a day early. It’s the least you can do after I bought you this pretzel”

“You’re impossible”

“And you’re welcome for the delicious treat and all the clothes”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just take me home, please”

“Gladly”

By the time Thursday rolls around, you’re already exhausted from this weekend before it’s even started. You spent your entire day yesterday doing laundry, going to the store for travel things, packing, and mentally preparing yourself for being Steve’s “girlfriend”.

It wasn’t that pretending to be his significant other was going to be the worst thing in the world. He’s attractive and you’ve heard his personality is alright, you’ve just yet to meet that version of Steve, but you worried it would be awkward.

There’s no way you have any amount of chemistry with Steve that makes it convincing that you two are in love. He scowls at any pet name you give him, he practically freezes any time you touch him, and you’re pretty sure he’d slip into a coma if he was actually nice to you.

The sound of Steve honking his horn pulls you from your anxious thoughts. He can’t even come up and knock on your door. God forbid he helps you carry any of your luggage. He did pop the trunk for you, though, so that’s something at least.

“Is your arm broken?” you ask, sitting down in the passenger seat. “No?” he replies, confused. “I just figured since you didn’t help me carry a single thing that-”

“You’re bitching already? It hasn’t even been five minutes that must be a new record”

“your hair looks flat today” you insult and he glares at you “you do know i have traits other than my hair, right?”

“yeah, I know. just don’t care enough, is all” you state, looking at your manicure like his existence is irrelevant to you. “Right, okay. Let’s just not kill each other until we get there”

“Only if you promise to buy me snacks at the gas station” you bargain “Fine. Whatever you want”

You fell asleep halfway through the car ride and have woken up once. For some reason, Steve can’t stop himself from glancing over you. Your head is resting on the window, your lips are slightly parted, and if he didn’t already know you, he’d think you actually look kind of sweet.

“Hey” he whispers and gently shakes your shoulder to wake you up. You grunt in response and he shakes your shoulder a little more. “Wake up, we’re almost at my parents lake house” he says and you jolt awake. “We’re stopping there first? I’m not prepared for that!” you exclaim and flip down the visor mirror to make yourself look presentable.

“They said they have a surprise for us and they’re looking forward to meeting you. It’ll be fine” he puts his hand on your thigh for a split second then quickly pulls it back. “And here we are” he announces when he pulls into the driveway. It’s more of a lake mansion than a lake house, but you didn’t expect anything less. Steve opens the passenger side door for you just in case anyone is watching. He can tell you’re nervous about meeting his parents. You’ve been fiddling with the hem of your top and the look on your face isn’t exactly hiding any of your emotions.

Steve grabs your hand and you’re taken by surprise. He’s touching you without acting like there’s a gun to his head. “Ready to meet the parents?” he asks, giving your hand a squeeze “As ready as I’ll ever be”

He knocks on the door and your leg bounces, anxiously. “Hey, stop worrying. They’ll love you. Most people think you’re great. Apart from me, obviously” he jests and you snicker. You know it isn’t a big deal if his parents don’t like you. You two aren’t actually together and there's a high chance you’ll never see them again, but you have this irritating need for people’s approval. Which is a bit ironic considering your hand is currently being held by the one person who has a huge issue with you.

“Steve, honey! We’re so glad you’re here!” his mom exclaims before hugging him. “You must be y/n! It’s so nice to meet you!” she hugs you next. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Harrington”

“Oh, please, call me Joanne. Come in, I’ll get your father. George, Steve and his girlfriend are here!” she shouts when you all walk inside.

Steves’ father emerges from the back porch of the house and it’s like Steve twenty-five years from now walked in from the future. “Now, what’s someone as pretty as you doing with my son? Did you pay her Steve?” he jokes, but he has no idea how close he is to being correct. “Thanks, dad, good to see you too.” Steve grumbles. “Don’t get too upset, I know how sensitive you can be. I’m George, it’s a pleasure to meet you” he extends his hand and you shake it. “It’s great to meet you. I’m y/n”

“You’re much nicer than most girls my son dates. There was one girl-”

“Anyways, mom said you had a surprise for us” Steve interrupts his dad. “Yes, we do!” his mom says and hands Steve a key. “What’s this?” he asks as he holds the key. “Well, your father and I thought it might be romantic if you two had your own house and you’d be much closer to the family. It’s just right up the road and we cancelled your hotel reservation.”

“That’s so kind of you, Mrs. Harr- Joanne. You didn’t have to do that” you thank her and she beams at your appreciation. “Honey, we’re just so grateful that Steve has found someone that he clearly loves. You should’ve heard how he spoke about you on the phone” She tells you and Steve’s face turns beet red when you turn to look at him. “Uh, yeah, thank you. We should probably go check this out, yeah?’’ he asks and you nod.

“Once you freshen up, don’t forget we’re having dinner here tonight!” Joanne reminds the both of you before saying your goodbyes. Your nerves come back when you think about meeting the rest of his family.

“So… what did you say about me on the phone?” you ask once you both step outside. “I don’t even remember. I didn’t really say much” he lies, but he doesn’t want you to know just in case you get the wrong impression that he might not dislike you as much as you think he does. “Keep your secrets, then. Let's go check out our house!” you squeal and run to the car.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so cute!” you say as you pull into the driveway. The house is smaller than the others, but the ideal size for two people. There’s a porch that overlooks the lake with two rocking chairs and a coffee table. It’s perfect for watching the sun rise and set.

It does make you a little sad that if you weren’t here, Steve would be all alone in a hotel while the rest of his family was within walking distance. Why wouldn’t he stay with his parents? or another family member? “Did you hear me?” he asks, bringing you back from all the questioning going on in your mind.“No, sorry. What did ya say?”

“I asked if you’re ready to go inside. I’ll help you with your bags this time”

“Yeah, thanks.” you grin and get out of the car.

The inside of the house is as beautiful as the outside. It’s cozy and inviting. If Steve was your boyfriend, it would be very romantic. “So, only one bedroom I suppose,” Steve speaks up. “I’ll take the couch” he volunteers.

“Steve, I can already tell you’re too tall for that couch. I’ll take it”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind”

“Or we could be adults and share the bed? It’s big enough that you won’t even come close to touching me” you assure him. “If you wanted to sleep next to me, all you had to do was ask” he smirks and your nose scrunches in disgust. “Shut up, I’m trying to be nice to you”

“Let’s unpack before we have to go to dinner. Are you nervous about meeting everyone else?” he asks as you throw your luggage on the bed so you can unpack your bags. “Yeah, I guess. Is there anything I should know?” you question. “Not really. My parents seemed to like you, so they’ve probably already put in a good word.”

The rest of the time you spend unpacking and getting ready is spent in silence. It isn’t either an awkward or comfortable silence. It’s like neither of you are there, not acknowledging each other unless absolutely necessary.

You and Steve decide to walk to his parents since it’s such a pleasant evening. The sound of the lake is peaceful and the moonlight illuminates your surroundings so perfectly that it makes the street lamps needless. “It really is lovely out here” you say and Steve hums in agreement. “Are you nervous, Steve? About seeing your family? You ask and he lets out a sigh that he’s been holding in for a while. “Kind of, but they’re probably gonna be more focused on you”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you offer and he shakes his head. “Nah, that’s alright. We’re almost there anyway” When you walk through the door of the house, Steve places his hand on the small of your back. Only for appearances, clearly. “We’re here” he announces and his family comes over to greet you.

“You must be y/n! I’m Linda, Steve’s aunt. We’ve heard many great things about you!” You make your way through all introductions followed by a million it’s nice to meet you too’s. His family is bigger than you expected and you can definitely tell that they have money just by looking at them.

You’re finally offered a glass of wine and happily accept. “Here, Steve, it’s an old-fashioned. The real man's drink” His father hands him a glass and he has to stop himself from chugging it.

“We are all dying to know how you two met” Steve’s aunt says to you once you and Steve are in the kitchen. It seems like everyone is gathered in the kitchen to hear the story. Steve looks a little lost so you decide you’ll take the lead on this one.

“Well, we met through mutual friends and Steve was terrible at attempting to flirt with me. I thought he was just so cute and one night I got stood up on a blind date and Steve came to my rescue and the rest is history” you wrap your arm around his back and his arm wraps around your shoulder. He can’t believe how quickly you came up with that. Your story is met with many ‘aws’ and Steve mouths a ‘thank you’ when no one is looking.

“I like your dress’’ you hear a small voice come from behind you and you turn around to see the most adorable toddler with pigtails. “Thank you, sweetie. I like your hair” you bend down to eye level with her. “I’m y/n. What’s your name?”. “Penelope. I’m this many” She holds up three fingers and you smile. “Do y’wanna color with me?” she asks and you follow her to the table she was coloring at.

“Are you married to Steve?”

“Nope, not married, but I am his girlfriend” it still feels weird to say that. “Okay. You can use my crayons”

Steve watched this interaction from the kitchen. He thinks the drink is already starting to go to his head because he thinks it's absolutely adorable. You’re a natural with kids and with his family. He can’t tell if it’s all part of the act or if you are actually this amazing.

Dinner goes smoothly with the help of several alcoholic beverages. Steve’s hand has been on your thigh throughout the entire meal and he didn’t act bothered by it at all. Maybe his acting skills aren’t so abysmal after all.

“Can I help you wash up?” you ask his mom as she cleans up the kitchen. “That would be wonderful, dear.”

“Penelope adores you, by the way. She’s always been a little shy and she warmed up to you just like that.” She tells you. “She’s a sweet kid. I was like that when I was younger. Shy, I mean. Guess I still am” a small chuckle escapes your throat. “Well, no worries about that. The family loves you” She assures you and you give her a kind smile.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks you. “Go on, I’ll make George help with cleanup” His mom hugs you both and his hand holds yours as you say your goodbyes to everyone.

“That wine got to me, I think. I feel all warm and fuzzy” you say with a giggle. Steve still hasn’t let go of your hand even though you're halfway back to the house by now. “I know what you mean. You were great, by the way. Pretty sure they’re convinced we’re in love.”

“Wow, you’re complimenting me? You must definitely be tipsy” you laugh. “And you’re still holding my hand so you’re absolutely toasted” he quips. “m’not. I just might fall over if you let go” so he doesn’t let go, not until you’re both inside the bedroom.

Once you both climb into bed, there’s more than a respectable distance between you and Steve. For some reason, a strange thought crosses your mind and you have the biggest urge to bring it up. “Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?”

“I thought of something we haven’t practiced yet and it’s kinda weird, but hear me out”

“Okay…I’m listening” he says, sounding a little suspicious. “Do you think it’ll be weird if we don’t kiss? Nothing crazy just a couple pecks here and there” he sits up and turns on the bedside table lamp. “You wanna makeout in front of my family?”

“No! Of course not. I said peck” he doesn’t respond and you’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life.

“Okay. Yeah, we probably should practice it. Ya know, just to be convincing” he finally speaks up. “Yeah. Just to be convincing.” you both sit up and scoot closer to each other. “Wait! Can you turn off the light?” you request and he quickly turns off the light.

You feel Steve’s hand resting on your cheek and your heart thumps in your chest out of nerves, not anything else, that’s for sure. “Ready?” he asks “Ready”

His lips brush yours and linger for a few seconds before he places his lips on yours in a proper kiss. It’s a simple kiss. There’s no tongue, obviously, and it feels like it’s over before it's even started.

“Wait, sorry. Let me try again” he says. He kisses you again and it’s still simple, but this time your lips move together in a harmonious agreement. His body moves closer to yours and you feel yourself slipping away, like you’ve forgotten that you’re kissing Steve Harrington. Someone that you aren’t supposed to be kissing.

He pulls back as he feels that the kiss might grow more intense. You’re left breathless and stunned, but Steve doesn’t seem to be as affected as you are, but he is. His palms are sweaty and his heart feels like it might jump out of his throat. He nonchalantly rolls over back to his side while you stay in the same position, staring at his silhouette.

“Goodnight, y/n”

“y-yeah, goodnight”

a/n: IT’LL GET JUCIER SOON I PROMISE

taglist: @freezaz123 @lovelyimpossibleobservation @johnricharddeacy @mjtalksaboutanything @nix-rose-q @eternallyvenus (i hope i didn't miss anyone!)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fic

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petertingle-yipyip · 1 year

Text

THREE EMPTY WORDS - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: Matt x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 3,230

Summary (Request): a request like fingers crossed where matty and reader are married and when elektra enters wounded she's sleeping and doesn't realise the situation, so half groggy wifey goes and asks him to sleep. he obviously says no, so she walks away upset.. then stick asks him if he would leave the reader for elektra and he says yes. reader obviously hears this (somehow he doesn't know) but what he does hear is her heart snap in two because of how heartbroken. then he ends up apologising and idk how but its a happy ending

You pushed your laptop away and rubbed your eyes, closing them tightly when you realized just how dry they were. They burned slightly and you knew it was time for bed. You shut your device after saving your lesson plans and tucked it into your bag on the floor. You wandered through the living room for one final check that your boyfriend hadn’t collapsed on the couch before you headed to bed.

It was a few hours later when the commotion started. The loud crashing from your living room woke you with a start, jumping hard enough to nearly fall off the bed. You sat up with eyes squinting through the bright living room lights to see the familiar silhouette of an unmasked Matt, accompanied by an older figure and a limp body.

You fought your way out of the blankets and shuffled across the room to get to the door. The lights were still too bright so you covered your eyes with one hand while holding the door with the other.

“Matty? Is that you?” You asked, the sleep in your voice obviously.

“Yeah.” He answered in a rush. “It’s me, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. Go back to bed, alright? I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, a heavy yawn sneaking through. “Are you coming?”

“Not right now. I need a few minutes but I’ll be there. Just.. Please.”

“Okay.” You shrugged and shuffled back, eyes closed as you dropped back into bed.

After a short amount of tossing and turning, you woke to a loud yank of the dresser drawer. You sat up and pushed yourself against the headboard, eyes still closed as your hands dropped into your lap. Matt was muttering to himself as he fought out of his suit, the heavy protective material getting slammed against the floor.

“What time is it?” You mumbled, blinking quickly to try and acclimate to the light. “What’s wrong, Matty?”

“It’s nothing, Y/N.” He answered, relatively sharply but maybe he was just tired. “I didn’t mean to wake you again.”

“It’s fine… Should I be worried?”

He finally turned to face you and you noticed his hands were covered in dried blood and they were trembling. You swung your legs around and got up, intending to go to his side but he was quick to meet you and turn you around so your back was towards the living room.

“Matt.” You said quizzically, though there was a firmness that demanded an answer. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a mess out there right now, okay?” He sighed. His eyes closed and he dropped his forehead against yours while his hands moved up and down your arms gently. “I’m gonna handle it and then I’ll be right there in bed with you.”

“You promise?”

He gave a small chuckle before planting a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“I promise.”

“Go on then.” You plopped yourself on the bed again. “Go be a hero… I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You laid on your side as you watched him go back into the living room. He hesitated at the doors and your brows furrowed, though you said nothing. You saw his shoulders drop and heard the faint sigh before he turned away and closed the doors the majority of the way.

You quickly realized you weren’t going to be able to fall back asleep anytime soon so you crawled to the edge of the bed. You leaned forward in an effort to peek through the small opening and saw a woman on the couch, eyes closed with Matt at her side. Out of curiosity, you pushed the blanket to the floor and slid down on top of it. When there was no reaction from Matt, you continued forward until you were at the doors.

Elektra.

How long had she been back? Was she okay?

“Matty.” The old man said. You angled yourself to see him and you could only assume it was the old man who had trained Matt when he was younger. “You know you can’t have both.”

“What?” Matt asked quickly, and you had a similar but quieter reaction. “What are you talking about?”

“Look at yourself, kid. You got your girl in the room, sleeping alone, because you’re here with her.”

“She could die, Stick. I just want to make sure she’s alright.”

“There’s nothing you can do for Ellie right now.” Stick said simply. “As much as I disagree with the soft life you built here…” He sighed and turned towards the bedroom. You froze, as if you’d been caught, but then you remembered he was also blind. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know you were there. “Would you leave it all?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What’s her name? Y/N?”

“Don’t talk about her.” Matt said protectively. “What are you getting at?”

“Let’s say, hypothetically, it’s between Ellie here and that little firecracker in the bedroom… Who do you pick?”

“I’m not gonna play your game.”

“That’s an answer on its own.” He shrugged.

“Shut up, Stick.”

“All I’m saying is that-“

“I don’t care.” Matt cut in sharply. “I don’t care what you have to say about my life or the way I’m living it, alright? She knows what I do is dangerous and she’s fine with it. She knows that I love her and I do this to make sure she’s safe. She gets it, all of it.”

“Does she?” Stick countered calmly. “Does she know about Ellie?”

Matt was quiet.

“She doesn’t.” The old man said quietly. “And you really think she’ll stay once she knows?”

“It doesn’t matter… She doesn’t need to know.”

“Intersting..”

“What are you looking for, Stick? You want some confession about how I feel?”

“I want you to stop lying to yourself, Kid. And stop lying to that girl.” He pointed towards you in the bedroom.

“I’m not lying.” Matt scoffed.

“Okay… So who’s it gonna be?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Ellie or Y/N?”

“That’s my wife, Stick.”

“Just answer the question!”

“Elektra!” Matt yelled suddenly and you felt your stomach twist.

Without much thought you pushed the doors open roughly, earning a quick head turn from Matt and a smirk crossed Stick’s features that made you feel sick. Why he intended on pushing Matt to give an answer, you had no idea. But he did, and Matt gave the exact opposite answer you expected.

“Y/N? You okay?” Matt asked carefully, a small tilt to his head as he listened in to whatever tell your body was giving him. “Your heart’s racing.”

“Yeah..” You said tightly. “Just need the bathroom.”

You hurried into the room and locked the door behind yourself. You leaned against the sink, taking a minute to stare at the tears welling up in your eyes. You felt sick, a twisted knot growing in your stomach. It felt as if it was swelling, crushing your lungs and cramming itself into your throat to the point where it was hard to breathe. Your knees fell weak and you let yourself drop the ground, head in hands as the tears began to fall. You kept quiet to try and hear what Matt said next.

“That wasn’t fair.” Matt said angrily. “You tricked me.”

“Did I?” Stick answered sarcastically. “Did I trick you?”

“Yes, you did.”

“The only person that tricked you is you. Come on, Matty. No one forced you to say Ellie’s name.”

“And no one asked you to come here and start problems. You knew she was listening and you wanted to see if you could play some sick game with her. You don’t even know her!”

“I know that you don’t need her.”

“Get out.”

“All of this over some girl. Wake up, kid!”

“Stop talking about my wife that she’s just some girl.”

“She won’t stick around after that.”

“Get out of my apartment or I will throw your ass out.”

With quiet screams, knees pulled to your chest and arms wrapped around them, you sobbed on the bathroom floor.

Your eyes were closed tightly and your shoulders shook as your lungs fought to fill with air. You turned your head to let the small whine of a sound get muffled by your shoulder while your nose ran and leaked onto your shirt. Your hands gripped your legs tightly and our nails dug into the tender flesh, serving as a physical source of your emotional pain.

You had always known Matt had a soft spot for his old college girlfriend. She was the first person that made Matt feel alive, that didn’t treat him as a porcelain doll. She challenged him and adored him for all he was. Like he said, she understood all of it. But to hear him confess that he’d still choose her over you, after everything you’ve helped him through, it felt like a deep cut to your soul.

“Sweetheart?” Matt asked from the other side of the door as he knocked lightly. “You alright in there?”

You shook your head quickly, despite the fact that he wouldn’t know, but had no voice to offer a response. You knew if you tried to say anything, you’d fall into another fit of sobs.

“Y/N, I can’t tell if you answered… Please talk to me, or open the door.”

“Go away.” You said quietly, a voice hardly above a whisper.

“No.” He said before a small shuffle and his voice came from a lower angle for his next sentence. “Not until you tell me.”

You rolled your eyes and slammed your fist against the door. You assumed it would’ve hit just about where he was so maybe he would get the hint that you didn’t want him around.

He didn’t.

“You heard what Stick said, didn’t you?” He asked gently.

“The important part is I heard what you said, Matt.” You managed, your voice weak rather than sharp.

“What I… Y/N, sweetie, you know I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m crying my eyes out because I know what you meant.” You offered sarcastically. “Just leave me alone.”

“I’m not gonna let you stay in the bathroom all night. Unless you plan to sleep in the bathtub, you have to come out at some point, my love.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was in town?”

“I didn’t think it would matter… It wasn’t supposed to come to this. It was supposed to be something quick, one-and-done. I never planned on her being here this long.”

“Is that supposed to make it okay?” You sniffled. “Things didn’t go to plan so you continue to hide it? You lied to me, Matt. So many times… I thought you were just out doing Daredevil things but you were going on little vigilante dates with her.”

“Dates? No, no, Y/N, nothing was ever a date.��

“That night you left in your work suit and came back in a tux?” You challenged.

“That..” He said slowly as he searched for a way to explain it. Now you were starting to grow angry, hearing him try to justify what he was doing rather than admit he was wrong. “Wasn’t a date. It was just us-”

“It was you two, getting dressed up and going out.”

“We needed to get into the gala to take a leger. That’s it.”

“If that was it, it should’ve been done. But it wasn’t, was it?”

“No…”

“No, you continued to see her and continued to lie to me and all of your friends... Does she even know that we're married?”

“Yes.” He answered quickly. “Yes, of course she knows. I’d never try to keep you a secret.”

“No, but you’ll keep secrets from me.”

“I thought it would be quick.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved yourself to your feet. You yanked the door open and pushed forward, nearly tripping over Matt, who was still sitting on the floor. You let out a ragged breath as a poor attempt to control your boiling anger but with every hasty step across your living room, every time your peripherals caught sight of Matt’s unconscious ex-lover on your couch, you felt that anger seer through every nerve in your body.

Every inch of your skin tingled and your muscles burned. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wanted to scream, to hit something, to throw something. You wanted to cry, to run, and just be alone. But where would you go? It was late. Your friends were likely asleep. You had no escape at the moment, so instead of letting it cook you from the inside out, you directed your anger at the only person you thought would deserve it.

Well, maybe not deserve it, but the only person who could take it.

“I never wanted to lie to you or- or keep anything from you.” Matt tried and all you could respond with was a scoff. You knew the second you let your brain send words to your tongue, they’d flow from your mouth. They’d grow and burn and creep like lava, thick and heavy and painful. So you pressed your lips together and shook your head, letting out sharp exhales through your nose as your angry pacing continued.

“Please, Y/N, you have to believe me.” He nearly begged.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You asked through gritted teeth, digging nails into your palms so roughly it sent a sting through your hand. “Or was she always going to be your little secret?”

“I never meant to -”

“That doesn't make it any better!” You shouted, throwing your arm widely to gesture to the woman on your now bloodied couch. “You can’t justify this! There’s no scenario or circumstances that make this okay! Do you get that?”

“I know but-”

“Then there is no but!” You continued to scream.

You didn’t care if the neighbors heard. You didn’t care if the whole city heard you. You didn't care if your volume woke Elektra or even woke the dead. You were absolutely livid now that the sadness had worn off. You were initially hurt that he had admitted to preferring Elektra to you, but at the end of the night, Matt came home to you. Matt spent his nights with you. He trusted all of his secrets to you. Elektra may have had his heart in the beginning but he was yours now. You wouldn’t let that go, nor would you ever let her think otherwise.

“I have to find out by accident that my husband is running around town, ditching work, for his ex from college. How do you think that makes me feel? How does that make our marriage look?” You continued, unleashing any thought your brain conjured.

But at that moment, with the notorious neon shining through the living room windows, you refused to let anything slide. You refused to let Matt think he could keep such a secret, especially one with such heavy implications, from you when he had told you - quite literally - everything else.

“How can I make this up to you?” He asked gently, walking to your side and gently reaching for your balled-up hands.

You yanked them from his grip and shoved him instead. He nodded slightly and let you push him again. And again. And again. You reached to do it again but that time, he caught your wrists. You pulled away slightly but he refused to let you go, offering a pointed expression instead.

“Let me go, Matt.” You said firmly.

“No.” He said with a slight shake of his head. “Not until you answer me.”

“You didn’t owe me this explanation. Why would I owe you an answer?” You shot back sharply.

“Because I love you… Because you mean everything to me and I’m not going to lose you because of something stupid that I said.”

“Those three empty words will only make this worse. Say them again and I will throw all of your shit out of that window.”

“Empty?” His brows raised and he let your hands go. He scoffed slightly with a nod as he took a few steps away. “Empty words, huh?”

“What would you call them?” You countered, though seeing the hurt expression seemed to sap the anger from your bones.

You started to feel bad… But didn’t you want to hurt him? Make him feel the way you had, just moments before?

“I won’t keep saying those ‘three empty words’ but I am gonna say something else.” Matt said carefully, as if he had decided to choose his words more intently. “Will you hear me out now?”

“If something doesn’t change, we’ll just keep sinking further.” You warned hesitantly, more scared that you had gone too far than that Matt would cross a line. Granted, he had crossed one already but you had gotten over him hiding Daredevil from you so you figured you’d get over the whole Elektra issue with some time. But maybe you had screwed yourself out of that chance.

“I’m running out of things to say to you to get you to believe me.” He confessed, dropping into one of the armchairs out of defeat. “Just tell me this isn’t broken.”

“You tell me.” You shrugged.

“I’m trying.” He laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. It was a sound of stress, desperation even.

“Are you?” You challenged mindlessly, not even realizing you had said it until you watched Matt’s expression change.

“You, Y/N, are the most important person in my life. I could lose… I could lose everything, but as long as I have you… I can do anything as long as you’re with me.”

“Then why is she here?” You insisted, pointing at her with every word.

“Where else were we supposed to take her?” He asked in quiet resignation. “I couldn’t just leave her to die in that place.”

“Fine.” You gave up, rubbing your hands down your face as the sleep pushed your anger away and took its place across your body, making it grow three times as heavy. “Okay.”

“Don’t do that.” Matt shook his head. “Don’t just conceed.”

“I don’t wanna fight anymore.” You admitted through a yawn. “We’re tired.” You reasoned. “We can’t take it anymore… Let’s just get some sleep. And deal with this tomorrow, probably after we both get off work.”

“Y/N.”

“Matthew.”

“Look, before you go to bed, can I say one more thing?” He jumped to his feet and came to stand in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

“Yeah, just make it quick.” You shrugged.

He placed your hands over the center of his chest, allowing you to feel his pulse thump steadily under your fingers. His hands stayed over yours and you had to bite down the smile as you looked up at him. You felt the subtle movement of his fingers, ensuring that the wedding ring was still on your finger. His head was tilted towards you and he wore the smallest of smiles when he found it, which would seem normal at any other time.

“You mean everything to me, my love… I never meant to hurt you and I’ll do whatever I can to prove that to you. I’d hate to lose you over something like this.”

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 months

Text

Procedure Part 2

Part One | Masterlist | Next Part

Notes: Alright so it's gonna be three parts not two but that is IT

Also I'm posting from mobile so if the title looks janky, that's why

Length: 6.1K

Warnings: Light angst, tons of fluff, I know I said this chapter would have explicit content but I felt that I needed to shore up my narrative bridge I'm SORRY next one I promise

Summary: You hadn’t bothered with dating apps in so long, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. At best, it could push you out of this mental rut and get you back into a flirty mood. At worst, it could scare you off from dating again for god knows how long. It wasn’t as if Ben had ruined you for other men. And there were plenty of fish in the sea, weren’t there?

“Is she still asleep?”

“Yeah, she’s out like a light.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben sighed. You could practically see him hunched over his desk, scrubbing his hand across his eyes.

The call to come and pick up Olivia had come at midnight. You’d only been in bed for half an hour, and you’d spent that half hour scrolling through your phone. Seeing Ben’s name pop up on your screen had been like a jumpscare, and you hadn’t hesitated to pick up.

He had sounded so disappointed and worn over the phone, half-grumbles and apologies of, “Late call,” and, “Only one on duty,” and, “I wouldn’t ask, but it’s an emergency.”

Your reassurances had fallen on deaf ears for the first round of explanations, but when you’d managed to break through to him, you’d told him that it was no problem, that you’d be over. You’d realized on the drive over that it wouldn’t be as simple as packing Olivia into the car and bringing her home. She was already asleep, and you knew from bitter, bitter experience that waking her up and shuffling her to another location would mean a sleepless night for the both of you.

Finding yourself alone in Borracho’s apartment was so strange. You’d been there dozens of times, sure, but it was usually for a couple of minutes at a time to pick Olivia up or drop her off. You were a little stunned at how neat it was, but at least he was keeping it clean for Olivia. Ben had always been so busy, and between his mess, your mess, and the baby’s mess when she was small, your home together had always felt so overcrowded with stuff in a way that was impossible to get a handle on.

You’d expected to have to neaten up, but there were just a handful of dishes in the sink and a basket of unfolded laundry.

“It’s okay, honestly,” You insisted, slouching back against the arm of his couch. “Worse comes to worse, Liv wakes up to seeing me here and we have a repeat of that time she thought she’d teleported in her sleep.”

Borracho’s chuckle made you smile. He had been in such a state when you’d arrived up, phone buzzing in his pocket and jacket in his hand as he’d rushed to get out the door.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” He added.

“All good.”

“Stay out of my fridge.”

“I can’t even have a snack?”

“You know what I mean. Don’t start expiration date hunting.”

“I feel like you saying that means that you know you have something in there that wouldn’t meet my standards.”

“Cabinet snacks only. I’m instating that rule.”

“I hear you, but with respect, I will at least grab a beer.”

“I’m gonna get back to it here.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“...Ben.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t stress. It’s one in the morning and I have nowhere to go.”

“Not for the streets?”

“Oh my—Hang up and go solve crime shit, Magalon.”

“Alright,” He laughed. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye.”

You pulled the phone back from your ear, shaking your head as you looked around the living room. You could watch some tv, go back to scrolling on your phone…Or do Ben’s dishes and fold his laundry to later distract from the fact that you had definitely gone through his fridge for expired food.

You could not remember the last time you were awoken by another person in a way that wasn’t Olivia jumping on your bed, or poking you in the cheek and asking if she could watch Paw Patrol while she had her breakfast.

The feeling of a broad, warm hand smoothing over your arm made you stir, your brow furrowing as you twisted your head toward the touch.

“C’mon, up,” Borracho murmured. “You keep sleeping like this and you’re gonna have the worst crick in your neck.”

You pulled in a deep breath, rolling onto your back and yawning widely as you squinted against the lamp light.

“Hey,” You mumbled. “You just get in?”

“Couple minutes ago. Stuck my head in to see Liv, she’s still KO’d.”

“Mm, good. Everything okay with the—” You yawned again, “The case?”

“Good enough as it can be for now. Zapata was able to come in, take over.”

“Time is it?”

“Almost three.”

“Damn,” You mumbled.

“Sorry—”

“Dude, stop apologizing,” You nudged him lightly with your knee. “It’s your job.”

“I know, but…”

You tipped your head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly as you took in his frown. “What is it?”

“This was supposed to be your night off.”

You smiled a bit at his insistence before you pushed yourself up. “We’re parents, Ben. We don’t really get nights off. Nights away, maybe. It’s alright. It’s never gonna be perfect, but this isn’t bad. I promise.”

Borracho nodded, casting a sidelong glance and smiling softly.

“Good.”

“Good,” You parroted before reaching up and pinching his cheek. “Quit frowning.” You stretched, pushing yourself up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Whaddayou mean?” Borracho frowned. “You’re heading out? You have any idea what time it is?”

“Two minutes past when I asked you what time it was?”

“Just stay here. I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m not kicking you out of bed, Ben.”

“No, just grab one of my shirts and—”

“You have Olivia all day tomorrow. You need your sleep as much as I do—More, even.”

Borracho was quiet for a moment, seeming to weigh his options before he shrugged and stood.

“Alright.”

“Great. So—”

“We’ll share.”

“Goodnight—What?”

“Bed’s big enough,” He shrugged. “Go on, get ready. I’m gonna have some water and wind down—Be in in a bit.”

“...You sure?”

“I’m the reason you’re here. Let Liv be the reason you stay.” His eyes searched your face, and you fought to keep it neutral as your heart ticked up in your chest. “I will feel better knowing you’re safe and not driving right after you got up.”

“Yes, but think of how rested I—” You stopped, face pinching as you swallowed a yawn. Borracho gave a slow, unimpressed nod before tipping his head down the hall.

“Go on.”

You hesitated for a second before you took a step back, hands raised in surrender. “I know better than to argue with you when you’re in detective mode.”

You heard him huff a soft laugh as you turned, heading down the hall. You glanced back toward him, relieved to see that he’d turned away before you headed into his room. You closed the door behind yourself, flicked your light on, and for a few moments you just let yourself…Look, and smell.

The bed sheets were a set from the old place—dark grey, with mismatched grey and blue pillow cases. The scent of his deodorant and cologne, the mingle of yuzu and bergamot and wintergreen…You pushed off of the door, sighing. At least you’d done your skincare and everything at home, no need to worry about the fact that you had none of your stuff there. You rifled around in his dresser for an old shirt and a pair of his boxers, changing as hurriedly as possible on the off-chance he came in sooner than you expected.

You climbed into bed, drawing the sheets up around your chest and rolling onto your side. Was this your side of the bed? Had this been your side of the bed when the two of you were together? It must’ve been, right? Why else would you have picked it now?

You glanced back as you heard the door open slightly, offering a soft, “You’re good,” before he opened the door the rest of the way. You settled back down, resting your head on the pillow and listening to him shuffle around.

You remembered the feeling of this, but it seemed a world away now. He wasn’t slamming drawers shut, and you weren’t sighing loudly in the hope of speeding him along to get him to shut the light off. The bed dipping behind you made your stomach swoop, and you forced yourself to take a quiet, steadying breath as he shut the light off. You let your ears hone in on the hum of the AC, the odd shush of a passing car on the road.

“...You still awake?” Ben murmured.

“Yeah.”

“You did the dishes.”

“Mhm.”

“Folded my laundry, too.”

“Idle hands are the devil’s, you know. Blah blah blah.”

“Mm…You threw out my mustard, didn’t you.”

“You’re lucky that’s all I threw out.”

Waking up to an empty bed wasn’t anything new, and waking up in those sheets was a little unfamiliar—but opening your eyes and seeing a mahogany dresser and not your window was jarring. You drew in a deep breath as you steadied yourself, listening closely. It didn’t take long for you to catch on the soft clink of dishes down the hall, and the sound of Spongebob and your daughter’s giggling.

You pushed yourself up, taking up your phone and eyeing the time. Nearly 9—shit. Why hadn’t Ben woken you up? You swung your legs out of bed, pushing yourself up with a wide yawn. You could smell coffee, and for as much as you should just get dressed and run out, that was absolutely your first priority.

“There you are.”

You fought back an eye roll in favor of taking hold of the mug of coffee Ben held out to you.

“Saying ‘there are you are’ as the person who didn’t wake me up is incredibly bold of you,” You grumbled, slouching back against the counter.

“Mommy!”

“Good morning, bug,” You smiled, resting your hand on Olivia’s head as she barrelled into your side, nearly sending the coffee sloshing over the sides of the mug. “You sleep okay?”

“Uh-huh. But I had a dream aboudda bear.”

“A bear?” You gasped. “Was it really big and scary?”

“Yeah!”

“Did you get away?”

“Yeah!”

“Phew!” You sighed, pretending to swipe a bead of sweat away from your forehead. “Thank goodness.”

“Mom?"

“Yes, bug.”

“Did you sleep over here, too?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but found yourself stalling for one. “Uh…” You turned to look at Borracho, brow furrowing—only to see your expression mirrored.

“Livvy, why don’t you go get dressed,” He suggested, “We’ll get breakfast at the diner.”

“Can I get pancakes?”

“Of course.”

“With ice cream?” Olivia looked between the two of you with beseeching eyes, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. There was no other way to get her out of the room for the two of you to talk—not when ice cream was potentially on offer.

“One scoop,” Borracho conceded. Olivia screeched, zipping down the hall to her room.

“...Well, remember that you chose that sugar high,” You smiled.

“A sugar high that you backed us into.”

“Backed yourself into that one, pal, we could’ve thought of something else.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to be coming up with anything.”

“I haven’t had any coffee yet,” You muttered, finally raising the mug to your lips. Borracho smiled, walking a little closer.

“So, if she does ask again?”

“I came over to say good morning?”

“So we lie.”

“As if you’ve ever had a problem with that.”

It left you so immediately and so flippantly, and you felt Ben go tense beside you. You glanced toward him and found his expression closed off, eyes focused heavily on the tile of the kitchen floor.

“...I’m sorry,” You murmured, hands shifted around the mug. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No?”

“Nn-nn. I was teasing. Shitty joke.”

You saw Borracho nod slowly, and you took a deep draw of coffee, ignore the burning splash of it in your stomach.

“Okay,” You cleared your throat as you turned, setting the mug down. “I’m gonna put my pants on and head out.”

“Could stick around.”

“I already folded your clothes and did your dishes, that’s all the free labor you’re getting out of me today.”

“I meant to get breakfast.”

You took the sight of Ben in—the slight hunch of his shoulders as he leaned against the counter, the curl of his hands around the edges of the faux-marble, and speculative, almost warm gaze that he was giving you.

“But it’s,” You nodded over your shoulder, “It’s a you and Liv day. I don’t wanna take away from your time with her.”

“You won’t.”

“Ben.”

“You don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Ben reached out, swatting your hip. “Go get dressed—and use the mouthwash on the counter. Your breath stinks.”

“Shithead.”

“Swear jar.”

Breakfast should’ve been the end of it, but Olivia had insisted that she show you this really cool thing she learned how to do on the monkey bars (which turned out to be just…Knowing how to cross the monkey bars). You’d been ready to tell her that you ought to head home, but Ben had caught your eye, smiled, and given you a small nod. Maybe he really had felt bad for making you come over the night before—or maybe he just understood how badly Olivia wanted to show you her skill on the monkey bars. Whatever it was, the two of you had watched Olivia zip around the park as her sugar high kicked in, and spent nearly two hours at the park with her.

You glanced into the backseat now, smiling at her slow, hazy eyes as she peered through the window.

“I think someone’s gonna have a little rest when you get inside,” You murmured. Ben hummed as he pulled the car into a parking space behind yours.

“You got plans for the rest of the day?” He asked.

“Oh,” You sighed, stretching and squirming in your seat. “Just the usual stuff. Laundry, groceries…Got a couple of little maintenance things.”

“Anything you need help with?”

“No, I’ve got it.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, twisting in your seat to get a better look at Olivia. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay, hon?”

“Mmhm.”

“I love you.”

“Love you. Mwah.”

“Mwah,” You blew her an air kiss before you turned to Ben. “I’ll um—I’ll see you tomorrow, too.”

“Yeah.” For a moment, it looked like he was teeing up to say something else, but he just smiled and hit the door lock to let you out.

At the beginning of your separation from Borracho, when you first started dropping Olivia at his place for the weekend, you spent your time digging yourself out from under the disorder and mess. After that, you sorted out your furnishings, paired down the things in your bedroom, your kitchen. You learned to shop for two people instead of three. You clipped coupons when things were particularly tight. You got new sheets and gave Ben the old one. You repainted your bedroom. You had things to do.

And you still had things to do today, but you found that you couldn’t talk yourself into doing any of them.

Every time you started to do one task or another—halfway through loading the dishwasher, a quarter of the way through separating your laundry out, in the middle of checking the contents of your fridge for expiring or near-expired food, you wound up lost in thought.

Holding a mug just over the dishwasher. Eyeing one of Olivia’s ankle socks and one of your ankle socks as you failed to find either of their partners. Sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of the fridge and staring blankly at the drawers.

Sleeping with Ben had felt so…Good. The two of you hadn’t fucked, obviously, but you’d forgotten how nice it was to just be asleep with someone. You’d missed it a long time ago, sure—when you’d started sleeping alone, you used to build a wall of pillows up behind yourself, just to feel cradled. It hadn’t been the same, and after a while, you hadn’t really needed it anymore. But you’d roused a couple of times last night—not fully, just awake enough to note your surroundings and drop back off—but Ben had been holding you. His body had been pressed so firmly against yours, his rough cheek against your neck, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other stretched out under your head. Maybe it was his little shifts that had woken you up—the little flex and loosening of his fingers around your shirt, or his nuzzle and sigh as he likely dropped in and out of sleep himself.

How long had it been since he’d been asleep with someone? You’d heard about dates, but you hadn’t heard about girlfriends. Had he had any? Did he curl up with them like that? Did they do his dishes, fold his laundry? Go through his fridge?

Well, they at least hadn’t done that last one—if they had, you wouldn’t have found that mustard.

You shook yourself from the thought, leaning back from the fridge with a grumble of, “No. No.” You weren’t going to torture yourself thinking about one freak occurrance—Damn, your knees really were really that loud, no wonder Ben had heard them a couple of weeks ago.

You shut the fridge, reaching into your pocket for your phone. You hadn’t bothered with dating apps in so long, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. At best, it could push you out of this mental rut and get you back into a flirty mood. At worst, it could scare you off from dating again for god knows how long. It wasn’t as if Ben had ruined you for other men. And there were plenty of fish in the sea, weren’t there?

“Welcome to the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.”

Alyssa looked just a little too gleeful for your liking as she said so, swiping through your Hinge matches. You scoffed, turning to watch the kids attempt to field ground balls. They were all failing spectacularly, and adorably.

“It’s not that bad,” You grumbled. And it was true, it wasn’t that bad—it was so much worse. You’d been on the apps for precisely three weeks, and so far you’d had 10 conversations. Half of those had been dead-end ‘hi’s, three of them called you a MILF, and two had just opened with, feet pics?

You had held off telling anyone that you’d signed up for the apps, but you’d needed to commiserate with someone, and you knew that Alyssa had recently braved the exact same horrors.

“It’s not that good, though—6’4, so—”

“Probably 5’9.”

“You okay with that?”

“I mean,” You shrugged, “That’s Ben’s height, so whatever.”

“Mm…This one isn’t holding any fish…But I also can’t tell which one he is, it’s all group pictures.”

“Swipe left.”

“On it.”

“When’s the last time you went on a date-date? I mean not just, like, coffee or drinks, like something that felt substantial?”

“Pfft, shit girl, I don’t know,” Alyssa shook her head. “It’s been a while…Actually might’ve been Gus.”

Damn. Your last real date had been Ben. You perked up as Olivia bent down to scoop a ball up—and missed it entirely.

“I’m starting to think all of the kids should get their eyes checked,” You muttered.

“So should this guy,” Alyssa tipped your phone toward you. “Jeff, 42. 'No fatties, baby mamas, no gold diggers.’ As if this slob has any gold to dig.”

“Please swipe left on Jeff.”

“Bye-bye Jeff—oh shit, wrong way—Oh, you matched!”

“What!” You screeched, taking the phone out of her hand and hurriedly opening the conversation, fumbling with the controls, “Oh shit, shit shit, he’s already typing—Shut up!” You nudged Alyssa as she tipped her head back with laughter. “You are banned from swiping duty.”

“It was one—One mistake—”

“Heck no. You can’t be trusted.”

“The hell are you two witches cackling about over here?”

You glanced up as Henderson neared, eyeing your phone.

“Mind your own business,” Alyssa nodded back toward the field. “Isn’t there something else you should be doing?”

“You’re making a racket and distracting the kids.”

“Oh please—”

“We’ll keep a lid on it, Gus. Sorry,” You offered.

“Thank you—You see how easy that was?” He asked, pointing toward you.

“Go mind someone who needs minding,” Alyssa scowled. Henderson shook his head, turning to head back toward the kids. You looked down at your phone, eyeing the next profile.

“...I think he saw your phone,” She muttered.

“Hm?”

“Just saying.”

“So what?”

“Long as it doesn’t matter to Ben, either.”

“It wouldn’t.”

“You sure about that?”

You frowned at the insinuation before you looked back toward the field. You saw Ben looking toward the two of you as Henderson leaned into him, speaking into his ear.

“...Yeah,” You shrugged, forcing your focus back on your phone. “He dates, I’ve been…Out with people. We’re adults.”

“Mhm.”

“Alyssa.”

“No, sure! Sure.”

The sight of Borracho’s name popping up on your phone was as unexpected as it had been last time, and you were practically out of your bed before you answered. You’d had a few uninterrupted Fridays, but you’d sort of wondered when he’d wind up needing to call you again.

“Hey,” You answered. “Give me five minutes to get dressed, I can be over there—”

“You don’t—That’s not why I called.”

You frowned, stilling in front of your dresser. “Oh…Kay? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You tentatively lowered yourself to sit on your bed again, brow furrowing.

“So you called because…?”

“I thought we could talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything?” And then he seemed to think of a better response, hurrying to add, “I just feel like we haven’t spoken much outside of pick-up and drop-off, since we didn’t really, um—We didn’t get the chance to talk after practice yesterday.”

That was true—a thunderstorm had moved in, cutting practice short and sending everyone scrambling for their cars.

“I guess not,” You scooched back. “How are you?”

“M’alright.”

“Yeah?"

“Yeah.”

“Work?”

“It’s uh—” He drew in a long breath, exhaling, “You know. It’s how it is.”

"Really painting a picture for me, detective.”

“What about you?”

“It’s good, work’s fine.”

“Good.”

It was clear from the silence that ensued that you each expected the other to go on, but for a moment, neither of you spoke.

You offered, “So—” as he said, “Listen—” And then each when quiet again, soft chuckles huffed out on either side of the phone.

“Sorry, go ahead,” You offered.

“I was just…I don’t want you to get annoyed.”

“Did something else in your fridge expire?”

“No.”

“Not sure I believe you.”

“You owe me a new mustard, by the way.”

“Deduct it from the monthly.”

“I will.”

“What were you gonna say that you thought was gonna piss me off?”

“If you start—I mean you never know what it’s gonna be like with someone in person, you know?”

And no, you didn’t know, but Borracho pushed on before you could ask him to clarify: “I can just be around, or have one of the guys come get you—”

“Ben.”

“—Or run a background check, ‘cause—I mean there are whackos out there.”

“I know, I’m speaking to one right now.”

“What’s the name on the profile?”

“I meant you, doofus—Henderson told you?”

A guilty pause, chased by a muttered, “He mentioned it.”

“Oh, my god.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No no no, hang on. Wait.”

You listened as he shifted in his seat on the other end of the phone, and suddenly you were so immeasurably glad that this wasn’t a conversation you were having in person. Of all things, you could never successfully hide your embarrassment from Ben—your lip-gnawing, hand-wringing, the way you scrubbed your sweating palm across your heated cheek and did your best to look anywhere but his face. But what did he look like now?

Was he rolling your eyes at your perceived overreaction, or did he have that sweet, contemplative look that he got when he was trying to figure you out, that little pinch between his brow and puckered purse to his lips? Was he on his couch? In his kitchen? Was he calling you as he laying down on his grey sheets, his head on a mismatched pillowcase?

Any and all prospects made you squirm as you stared at the storage bin at the end of your bed, wishing that there was a way to crawl out of yourself and fold up inside, surrounded by clean sets of sheets and extra towels and old pairs of pantyhose that you would probably never wear again, but couldn’t bring yourself to throw out.

“I’m not trying to be a dick, alright? I just…I wanna know that whoever’s around you is a good person.”

“I wouldn’t bring a bad person around Olivia.”

“I know that, but right now, I’m not talking about Olivia—Not just about Olivia. You should have someone good…You deserve someone good.”

Your heart sank into your stomach as his tone softened and quieted. For a moment, you wondered if Borracho was thinking of crawling out of himself and curling up in a storage bin, too.

“I’ve had good people. I know what they’re like. Hell, I married one. Had a kid with him, too.”

“This a relationship you never told me about?”

“Stop that,” You chided softly. “You’re a good man, Ben. You know that.”

“...Yeah.” It was a gritty and flat reply, and you were almost certain that he didn’t believe it himself, that he just wanted you off his back.

“Anyway,” You pushed on, “I will keep your offers in mind. Might even take you up on them.”

“Good.”

“And you’re always welcome to ask me to fake an emergency if you’re ever on a bad date, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Sure. Make me sound like a real nightmare. You wouldn’t have to try all that hard.”

“It’d be a tougher sell than you think.”

You smiled, sliding down against your pillows.

“It’s very sweet of you to lie, Magalon.”

“‘M not lying.”

“If you say so.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You were never in the Scouts…And it’s sweet of you to worry.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Now he was rolling his eyes, you were certain. You smiled, closing your eyes and resting your head back against the pillows.

“What did you and Liv get up to tonight?”

“Devon and Henderson came over for pizza.”

“I’m assuming that’s when he mentioned the—Right?”

“Pleading the fifth.”

“Oh, please.”

“I do not recall.”

“No, sure.”

“What’d you get up to?”

“Oh—Went to Home Depot. I’m thinking of redoing the bathroom—Alone,” You tacked on hurriedly.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I can handle it.”

“I’ve seen your Pinterest boards and the shit you like on Instagram and I don’t think you can.”

“That is so rude. And stop creeping my social media.”

“I’m not creeping.”

“Really.”

“I’m just gonna politely ask that you forgo any use of shiplap.”

“How the fuck do you know what shiplap is?”

“You weren’t the only one in that apartment when you had HGTV on.”

“I thought you weren’t paying attention.”

“I tried not to, but after a while it’s impossible to block out.”

It wasn’t every Friday per se, but every other week or so, one of you would call the other.

It was supposed to be the exception to the rule, those late-night calls—the ones that had everything to do with the two of you, and not nearly as much to do with Olivia. You felt a little guilty for that, sometimes. For so long, she was the only reason that you had the lines of communication open with Borracho. But when you called one another, both knowing that Livvy is asleep, there wasn’t even a hint of pretense that you may be calling to talk about her.

Borracho still teased you, still prodded at the open wound of your attempt to get back into dating. And you did go on a couple of dates, but none of them felt right. The guys had been nice, polite, but…But things hadn’t flowed. It wasn’t that you hadn’t felt a spark—you’d given up on that hope and notion a long time ago.

But for every awkward pause, your mind piped up in the most unhelpful way: Ben would know what to say right now.

“I’m not going to lie, I’m…A little surprised that you suggested this.”

Truth be told, you were a little surprised, too. The first couple of months of the new schedule with Borracho had been a godsend at first. You had more time to run errands, clean up around the house, spend some time with friends, and just have some you time. But…On some Fridays, you just didn’t know what to do with yourself. Your friends weren’t always free to hang out, and sometimes you missed having another heartbeat around the house.

Asking Jessa to hang out had been a snap, last-minute decision. You weren’t regretting it…Yet. She’d recommended a bar that you’d never heard of, with cocktail names that were frankly a little bit embarrassing to request—but they were tasty, and just the perfect kind of strong.

“I’m glad you did, though!” Jessa hurried to add. “Honestly, since the divorce, I haven’t gotten out all that much.”

You nodded, folding your arms on the table. “I know the feeling. After Ben and I split, I spent all of my time home with Liv. I was trying to fix everything, like patching holes in a sinking ship.”

“Ugh, I know exactly what you mean.”

You watched as Jessa shifted in her seat, toying with her straw.

“Can I ask…I mean—” She cleared her throat. “I’m going to say something and I really hope that it’s—”

“Sure, you can ask him out.”

Jessa’s lips parted in surprise, and you couldn’t help but smile. She huffed a stunned laugh, her hands coming up to try and shade some of her embarrassment.

“Oh my god!”

“It’s alright.”

“Was I that obvious?”

“A little. So, you gonna do it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it?” Jessa’s nerves were plain on her face, her fingers swirling the straw so quickly that you were a little worried some of it would spill over the sides. “I mean, he’s very nice, and he’s sweet…And hot. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You couldn’t argue with her on any of those points. And to your surprise, it wasn’t eating you up the way that the thought had a couple of months ago. At least…The welling of petty jealousy that had reared its ugly head when you first saw Jessa squeezing his arm at practice felt a little more quiet now. Maybe you were more settled than you’d thought you had been on the idea. Maybe all you had needed was a little more time to yourself.

But that wouldn’t explain the little nagging pit in your stomach that told you this still didn’t feel right.

You could warn him, right? You could just let him know what was coming. Jessa had your blessing, but you could just warn Borracho that she was going to ask him out…Couldn’t you?

You stared down at your phone, blinking a little blearily. You’d had one more drink than you should’ve—your head had been spinning in the back of your Uber on the way home. You’d already texted Jessa to let her know that you’d gotten in alright, and to thank her for hanging out. But your finger hovered over the phone icon beside Ben’s name.

It would be normal to call him. Right to, even. You’d been calling one another so regularly that it would be weird if you didn’t call him. So—

Chicken fingers first, actually. Put the phone down. You could make chicken fingers and fries in the air fryer. Put those in to cook and just have to quick call with him while those—No, you would want to eat them as soon as they were done. Okay. Put the phone down and put the food in the air fryer. Have some water while you wait for it to be ready. Eat, then call Ben.

That was a good plan. That was the best plan you’d had all day.

You knew halfway through your second chicken finger that you weren’t going to call him.

The resignation of it sat steadily with you as you watched the Dodgers blow their lead, sending the game into extra innings.

What if Jessa changed her mind and decided not to ask him out? Then he’d just be waiting for a shoe that was never going to drop all because of your big mouth. No. You weren’t going to call Ben—not tonight, anyway.

You polished off your food, had a liquid IV, went to bed, and woke up with a mild hangover and no regrets.

“Oh boy,” You chuckled, leaning back against your car and folding your arms across your chest. “Someone looks all tuckered out.”

Olivia just grumbled as she slouched past you, sliding into the backseat of the car. You peered inside, watching her tip her head back against the seat, closing her eyes.

“I’m getting the feeling that bedtime wasn’t strictly mandated last night,” You added, turning to watch Borracho amble toward you.

Damnit, but he looked good. He was still a little sleep-ruffled himself, hair mussed. He let out a similar grunt as he scrubbed the heel of his palm against one of his eyes.

“We may have stayed up to finish watching the Dodgers.”

All the better that you hadn’t called him.

“You mean the game that went into extra innings and didn’t end until 12:30?” You asked.

“Acting real high and mighty for someone who clearly also stayed up to watch it.”

“Well, I can handle my sleep deprivation.” You tipped your head to the side as he stopped in front of you. “Long week?”

“Little bit.”

“Mm.” You reached out, righting the flipped collar of his shirt. You felt the weight of his gaze as you smoothed it before folding your arms again. You expected a goad, a question from him, but you got…Nothing. You met his eye and your breath caught in your throat. There was a blend of concern and loving care that he hadn’t regarded you with in a long time. You frowned, shaking your head a little.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna—” His eyes darted to the open backseat door before he pushed it closed. “I’m have something to tell you, and I’m not sure how you’re gonna feel about it.”

“Okay?”

What the hell could it be that he was so worked up about? Had someone died? Was he being transferred to another department, another sheriff’s office? You didn’t want to uproot Olivia from her entire life, but you didn’t want to cut Borracho’s access off to her, either—

“I’m gonna go out with Jessa.”

Your mouth worked wordlessly before you managed: “That’s it?”

Borracho’s concern washed with confusion, his expression twisting.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?’”

“Dude!” You reached out, whacking him in the arm. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Ow!”

“Oh please, that did not hurt.”

“Well—” Borracho reached out, pinching your bicep sharply.

“Hey!” You shrieked, batting his hand away.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’?’”

“I thought you were going to tell me you were being transferred or something! God,” You sighed, leaning against the car. “When’d you guys talk?”

“Last night. Just texting.”

Even better that you hadn’t tried and call.

“You said yes?”

“I’m gonna.”

"You haven't yet?”

“Because—” He glanced toward the back of the car again. “You two seemed to be getting along. Wanted to make sure it was cool.”

You melted a little, nodding.You patted his shoulder before getting into the driver’s seat, glancing back toward Olivia and lowering her window when Borracho knocked on it.

“I’ll see you at the game tomorrow hon.”

Olivia nodded, snuggling back in her seat as she mumbled, “Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was a surprise to see Borracho knock on the passenger window, rolling it down just enough for him to lean in.

“You’re sure you’re good with this?” He asked. You smiled, nodding.

“I gave her the green light. I don’t mind giving it to you, too, Ben.”

For all of his training, his skill, he was unable to hide his surprise from you. It took him a moment before he leaned away, patting the side of the car. You caught sight of him waving to Olivia one more time as you pulled away from the curb, and did your best to ignore the unwavering sight of him in your rearview until you rounded the corner.

---

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#Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Procedure

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