#the playlist on spotify is called ‘oh you wonder!’

[aimfor-theheart]

hi again!! im the same anon with the niki song reccs! im glad you appreciated my first ask cuz i was nervous that itd look like an unsolicited reccommendation 🥹

can i just ramble a bit more because—PLEASE the stage play format!! ive only read a few ever but the way kaeya's face is almost always shadowed or turned away from the audience to show his shady-ish and closed-off nature⁉️ how it ties in with his in-game-all-the-world's-a-stage thing⁉️ the way the fic plays around the concepts and thin lines of truth and lies, secrets, show and pretend⁉️ I AM ALL FOR ITTT 😩🩷🫶 and the way you describe the setting, its also very reminiscent of like, the paper storybook animation mondstadt had in some of its cutscenes!! every time i read it i can imagine myself in a proscenium, thrust, or black box stage akzjdjfkdsk

also if you dont mind me asking, what are some songs in your playlist for my heart, your song? id love to give them a listen!! 🩷

omg no anon you’re all good!! i loooove song recs like all the time!! and i also just think its really sweet you have songs that you associate w a fic of mine 😭 like i could cry forever 😭😭💗

ANDDD 😭😭 the fact that you picked up on kaeya’s staging!! anon!! i’m so glad that it came across!!! even in writing scenes for stories and not plays, i think about the like “staging” of them quite a lot, often like i’m an audience member myself and i’m always trying to find unique “stage pictures” or like…..these “pictures” that convey something, like in theater. and i loved the idea of having kaeya’s face and staging always away from the audience until he reads the letter at the end of act ii!! and i could CRYYY to compare the scenes to the mondstadt storybook 🥺🥺💗💗 waahhhh thank you so much this fr means the world to me oh my god 💗💗

i do not mind at all!! my heart, your song has a very long playlist with a lot of live music on it bc the reader is a performer!! also some from musicals where i took inspo on the kinds of songs reader was performing!! here are some of my favs on that like 4 hour long playlist:

1. this live more acoustic version of Venus as a Boy by Bjork

2. Would That I by Hozier

3. Lover’s Desire by Anais Mitchell for more upbeat “chase” scenes as i call them—lots of flirting and playing and falling.

as things start to get angstier and reader gets more reckless:

4. Hymn / Her by Jordaan Mason

5. Eric by Mitski

6. I Don’t Care Much from the 1998 Broadway Cast Recording of Cabaret (this is actually the song i kinda envisioned reader playing at diluc’s in the postface to scene ix—or something like this)

7. this live version of Shrike by Hozier

and for some softer, more healing ones that are towards the end of this playlist, and that i’ve been writing act iii to!

8. No One Else from the Broadway Recording of Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

9. An Ending (Ascent) by Brian Eno

10. this piano version of Avatar’s Love from ATLA because I’ve always had a soft spot for this melody lol

sorry if this got kinda long 🙈🙈 but fr the playlist is actually like. 3 hours jfkdjska and i’ve tried to make all the songs flow into each other genre/sound wise….as well as have a complete arc of the story bc i’m just. insane LMAO

but thank you so so so much again—for your song recs previously and also your lovely thoughts and further curiosity for music 😭💗💗💗 it means a lot to me and makes me so excited jfkdjska

[crossbackpoke-check]

♾️!

shuffle said “your apartment” by wallows!!

Who said / I don’t understand or that I probably don’t remember / Time in the palm of your hand / we both let go together

&

Who’s been tryin’ to get their signal sent? / I promise I get your sentiment / I wonder who’s been at your apartment?

not like. lyrically the greatest song but i love that there’s a storyline that runs through the first few songs of the album and the ways they reference each other (you called me over to your apartment, whose signal sent? -> you can call me anytime -> i know you’re calling after me). shout out also to the pre-chorus pauses for questionable punctuation and interpretation because it’s one of my favorite things when the inflection and performance can change the meaning of the lyrics!!

[almostempty]

Look at this photograph

(joel miller x f!reader)

The half sequel (Chapter 1.5) to Never made it as a wise man

WC: 3.5k | Part 1 | Other fics | Rating: 18+ 

Summary: you open Joel’s dick pic and (after examination) decide to give him a call

Note: it’s me ya boi (gn), back with more divorceddadrockdilf!joel bc you guys get me. i know y’all want them to fuck, and I want them to fuck too. unfortunately, this flowed through me first, and I am merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. 

so, until they get their freak nasty on, please enjoy this as a chapter 1.5, with gratuitous dick pic art critique and crankin’ it over the phone <3 don’t worry, he’s still a lil pathetic. mistakes and bad jokes are all on me. 

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where ch.1 ended, dick pic descriptions, alternating pov, dirty talk, phone sex, masturbation, it’s all just phone sex, but edge yourself through it with fond memories of ch. 1, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc

inspo playlist i found on spotify: Divorced Dad Rock: BANGERZ

thanks: to @hellishjoel for hosting the #hotdilfsummerchallenge and to everyone who enjoyed part 1 

@gothcsz i promise fuckboy!joel is cookin, he’s just in the crockpot rn. he’s gotta tenderize like a white lady’s pinterest recipe for pulled pork. 

* i tried to tag everyone who wanted more, but if you don’t wanna be here i’ll remove it <3 or if i missed you and you want to be tagged next time pls let me know

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you blurt out after opening the message from Joel. The vulgar dick pick sends a prickly worm of arousal slithering down your spine. 

Without thinking, you tilt the phone down toward your chest, and your eyes shoot up like you’ve got to make sure nobody saw your naughty message. Warmth blooms on your cheeks as the flash of embarrassment starts to dissolve. You don’t need to hide. 

You’re in your bed, in your apartment, wearing Joel’s grubby Creed t-shirt. The one that smells like Degree Sport and a Jiffy Lube break room. You're free to look at all the dick pics your heart desires. And that’s what you’re going to do. 

The wiggle of bashful energy turns into a squirm as you shift your hips, seeking a comfy position in bed. The t-shirt bunches up under your back and you wonder if the unique Joel scent of it will linger on your pillow beneath your shoulders. You knew pilfering the shirt on the way out the door was a good move, and now you get to enjoy your trophy. It makes it feel like the broad-as-a-barn-door DILF himself was still close enough to touch you. 

It gives you another bright shudder when you think about the noises he made when he came in your hand earlier. The disappointed grunts of “fuck, wait” and how he tried to choke down the throaty groan that came from deep in his chest. Fuck. The perverted gremlins that have a permanent residence in your mind have been roused by the digital dick, and now they chitter and squawk at you. More! More! More!  

You reopen the message, and seeing it gives you another rush. You save the picture to your phone storage. For your personal collection. Mine now, big boy. Your chin starts to dip towards your chest. It’s like you’re giving your phone the Kubrick stare with the ghost of a smirk. You’re free to take your time with this one. And you can be as much of a creep as you want. That makes you sigh softly and sink deeper against your pillows. 

Before this afternoon, it was titillating when Joel would pop up in your mind's eye with his slutty slo-mo scenes. The one where he was bent over your car's engine like Megan Fox in that Transformers movie. Or, that damn happy trail tease with the t-shirt-sweat-rag move. You had just enough imagery to let your dirty thoughts take the wheel. 

And, god, you had a good production team in your mind for projects starring Joel. Adding this will give the team a whole lot more to work with. You can hear them crashing around your conscious like the Animaniacs on the Warner Brothers lot. Horny chaos goblin mode activated. 

Now that you have time to study the image, from the luxury of your microfiber sheets and lamplit bedroom, you let it get pervy. It’s your first real, lingering look–earlier today, you were so busy trying to rile him up in his jeans that you didn’t even pull it out.

It had somehow been even more delicious that way. Having him all needy and unable to stop himself from making a mess in your hand. And not just the noises, but the erratic thrusts into your tight fist? The heat of his pulsing length as he forgot himself? Yeah, you’re gonna remember that one. 

But now? Now you need the visual. If the devil is in the details, you have a new neighbor with horns and a tail. 

You zoom in on everything. Holding your phone closer to your face than necessary, like how do we enhance this bitch? 

And holy shit. 

Drool pools in your mouth and between your legs. You have the knee-jerk reaction to lick your phone. 

You can hear Joel’s voice from earlier today. All husky and grumbly, arguing that you really were a slut for him, like, “You are, aren’t you, though? You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt just to see me?”  He might be touch-starved enough to cream his jeans, but you just know he’s got a nasty mouth in bed, and you’ve got to find out firsthand. Soon. There’s no reason not to, right? 

You pause when a flicker of reasoning tickles the back of your neck. 

You’re back to looking in your review mirror in Joel’s driveway. The last-ditch attempt at checking your ego before you marched to his front door like a Halloween hoe bag version of Betty Crocker. 

You had told yourself you weren’t trying to fuck your (almost) friend’s (sort of) dad. Told yourself there was nothing to pursue, and even if there was, you wouldn’t bite. 

You like Ellie. She’s been (mostly) welcoming to you. You told yourself not to fuck anything up with the only person that’s got a single one of your jokes at your new job. 

You were just bringing some food as a friendly gesture. The fresh visuals to add to your spank bank reel were supposed to be a harmless bonus. Okay, maybe it was a stretch to say you had rolled up to Joel’s driveway with pure intentions. 

And it was an even bigger stretch–when he added that third finger while he finger fucked you on the kitchen counter—wait, no. It was an even bigger stretch when you had told yourself you probably weren’t his type anyway. 

Like, that guy? With the fridge full of Coors Banquet? With those ugly Oakley sunglasses that you know are featured in his only picture on social media that isn’t a car or truck? The guy with all the words to Buckcherry’s “Crazy Bitch” and Puddle of Mudd’s “She Hates Me” memorized? 

Nah, deep down, you knew. You knew there was no way that middle-aged bachelor would turn down any action. But you hadn’t planned on actually making a move, especially not a handjob in the middle of the kitchen. 

That’s on Joel for leaving the door open while trying to rub one out to some bimbo on Brazzers. And for barking at you in that sexy, angry voice. And for teasing you with the bulge in his oil-stained jeans. What were you supposed to do? 

Something must be really rotting in the logic department of your brain. 

Hey! The gremlin voice in your head is still shouting at you. Hey!! Why are we not tasting that dick yet?!! You’re back from your daydream and the excuses you crafted for your behavior, back to laying in your bed with Joel’s dick pic emitting a bright glow in your hand. 

You still do want to lick the screen. 

Fortunately for your immune system, you control your tongue. The critical part of you expels a sigh when you zoom out and take in the picture. 

It’s undoubtedly a nice cock, but the image as a whole? Yikes. 

Why do men have to be so fucking thick? And blunt? Wait, now you’re just describing the slightly blurry boner lighting up your face. Thick as in dense. How can men be so dense? 

No imagination or creativity. No patience. 

You shake your head slightly, scoffing. No wonder you caught him hunched over his cracked phone screen. It was probably the first video loaded on the only site he had saved. 

No sweet, sweet, buildup, setting the mood, or getting cozy. Just whippin’ it out midday or snapping a photo in some ratty sweats. 

Like you’ve never been that touch-starved or down bad?

You ignore that voice to continue your art critique. 

The photo you sent is… sexy. 

Sultry. A flirty tease. It says, “Look who has your shirt? Am I wearing it in bed? Do you think I'm wearing anything else?” 

It’s all implied in the look in your eye and the picture's composition. The tease of the soft curves on the underside of your breasts, asking if he remembers what they felt like. Your hand bunching up the shirt, asking if he remembers the slide of that fist around his cock. If he remembers those fingers, the ones you sucked his sticky spend off of. 

Such delicately crafted imagery. Personalized erotic fine art.  

But men are so crude about it. He sees your tasteful, sexy pic, and immediately, the best his caveman brain can come up with is: send her ur dick! STAT!! Hard cock! Now!!

And, of course, he did. Taken in the dark with the flash on, making ominous shadows in the background. His old charcoal gray sweats are pulled down just enough to expose everything he’s offering. 

The color is slightly blown out from the flash, and it’s a touch blurry where his phone didn’t autofocus quickly enough. His hand looks like it’s straight up, just choking the base of his cock. It’s jarring. 

But that’s really the “man” of it all, right? Nothing subtle or demure about a rock-hard erection jutting towards you, reaching like it could get to you on its own if it just could get a little bit harder. No, there’s nothing coy about the raw thoughts of a man with no blood left in his brain who’s just aching to get inside you, either. 

And fuck if that doesn’t start to override your critical analysis. 

The glare from the flash reflects in the beads of precome rolling down his rosy tip. Mouth wateringly delicious. Your blood rushes to your pussy, filling your tender sex with heat and a deep, needy itch. It makes you dopey and silly. Not cock drunk, but like, dick pic buzzed. 

You know it felt sizeable in your hand earlier, but you aren’t an expert at estimating size from a through-the-pants handjob. You try to recreate your own grip around nothing to estimate the size. 

You giggle to yourself when you realize you're just a woman in her bed staring at her hand, jerking an invisible cock. The horny goblins aren’t amused, though. They’re sick of the daydreaming and distractions. They’re picking fights with the rest of your mind. Throwing rocks and sticks, shrieking and hissing. 

The part of your brain that was griping about how men used to write love letters and respect the art of romance is getting quieter and further from your faculty for caring. You can hear its muffled shouts, and you assure that voice that you won’t give it all up this easily. Then, you completely tune it out. 

The last brain cell with a complaint has you rolling your eyes. You have to be ovulating or something because it’s wholly debased the way this guy is doing it for you. 

He’s just shameless with it. 

You sent him tasteful underboob, and he gives you jumpscare dick-in-the-dark! How is this supposed to escalate? He gave it all up immediately! You send another picture, and he sends you his money shot? What’s he gonna do to give you more? Send you an asshole shot? That one makes you snort. You bet he would do it, too, if you asked. 

Oh, that gives you a better idea. He’s not getting another picture from you at all. You tap on his name and tap the call icon. Of course, this horny motherfucker answers immediately. You aren’t sure it even rang before you’re connected to his porny bedroom voice. 

“What are you wearing, dollface?” 

“I already showed you. Call me dollface again, and I’m hanging up.” 

You can hear his breathing like he’s got the mic on his phone in his mouth. That would typically drive you fucking nuts, but right now, you wanna hear his heavy breath against your ear and feel it hot against your skin.

“All right,” he speaks slowly, distracted. You know why. “You wanna be my slut, instead?” 

Fuck. That has you throbbing between your legs, but he doesn’t get to know that yet. 

“I already told you,” you keep your voice low and soft, “you don’t get to call me a slut for you, not with your behavior.” You strain, trying to hear any other noises, but his mic is probably clogged with dust from his shop or lint from the pocket of his sweats. You can just hear his fucking breathing. 

“What behavior, baby?” he rasps.

“You always jump straight to sending a picture of your cock?” 

You hear the soft snort through the phone. Followed by a deeper, throatier noise. A noise that makes you go cross-eyed and has you running a hand down to your naked lower half to tease yourself. 

“You always steal a man’s clothes after you come on his fingers?” 

You don’t really care what he asked. His voice makes your tongue go numb. Your mind goes blank. You start slowly, coating your own fingers in your slick arousal and drawing circles with a light touch. 

You hum a noncommittal response into the phone. 

“You look good in my shirt, baby, fuck,” he trails off breathlessly. The idea of you in his clothes gets him too close. 

You don’t answer, and he’s too far gone to wait and tease. 

He’s been wound up since you took off this afternoon, and it doesn’t feel like a coincidence that you sent him that pic when he had just gotten into bed.

It had taken ages to get his brother out of the shop this afternoon, and then Joel completely fucked up when he mentioned you and the lasagna. He had to begrudgingly host Tommy for dinner when he couldn’t come up with a better excuse than saying, “I’m gonna need you to fuck off so I can deal with the aching balls I’ve got from your surprise visit scaring away the woman I had my fingers knuckle deep inside.”

But when he was finally alone, it was like fate; your text came through right after he flopped onto his bed. His semi-stiff cock had sprung to full mast at the sight of you. The shirt he knew he didn’t fuckin’ lose, your soft curves, and the expression on your face. Like a vixen. Your PG-13 tease would do more for him than any X-rated video. 

Knowing you were thinking about him and that you wanted him to know? That had him throbbing. He already knew from the desire in your eyes earlier today that you wanted more.

He could swear his fingers still hold the lingering flavor of your wet cunt. The visceral memory of you has him on edge. When he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, he has to pause, holding firmly in place. His body screams and aches for release, but he’s determined to keep it in check. He doesn’t want to blow his load until he gets a response from you. 

He fights his urges, trying not to fuck his own fist in a frantic race to come. 

But, fuck, it’s difficult when he can imagine the sounds you’d make as you sank onto his cock for the first time. The face you’d make. Your tight, wet walls hugging him just right. Like, he’s where he’s meant to be. 

And the way you would look, bouncing on top of him. Your tits, your blissed-out face, the way your soft lips would part when you called out his name and cried for more. 

Those lips. 

The way he’d love to see them swollen and slobbering around the base of his cock. Fuck. His hips buck reflexively, and he hisses out a breath through his clenched teeth. When his phone lights up with your name, he answers before it can make a sound. You’re so bold. He likes that. It plasters a saucy grin on his face. 

And now, with your breathy voice crackling through his janky phone speaker, he’s not gonna last long. You've got him losing his composure for the second time in one day. His whole body is rigid. His toes flex and snap unconsciously, and his jaw tenses. He hears your soft moan, and his thoughts are overflowing. He has no filter left. 

“Yeah, baby? You moaning for me?” His hips punch up into his fist, and he gives in, allowing himself firm, severe strokes. “You’ve got me so hard. You moaning for my cock?” 

You are so not gonna answer that one. If the next words out his mouth are, “Yeah, you like that?” you’re gonna block him for that. But it is undeniably hot to hear him already so worked up. You just know he’s gonna be coming all over himself again for you, and that really does make you moan just for him.

Your noises earn you another growly groan from Joel that you’d kill to hear again. The more uninhibited his noises are, the louder you get in response.

“You using your fingers, or you have a toy?” his question is punctuated with a grunt. 

“Mm, just fingers,” you purr, finally granting him an actual response as you roll your hips. Having Joel on the line gives you a heady sense of satisfaction. Wondering what’s going to come out of his filthy mouth next gives you a shiver of anticipation. 

“I know that sweet pussy is just achin’ to be filled again.” Correct. 

“Yes.” 

“S’right, baby, I know.” 

Joel whimpering on the phone for you is absolutely going to get you off. Your hips chase your own fingers. You switch your phone audio to speakerphone and drop it on your pillow so you can use both hands. Pinching at your own nipples as if it were Joel’s big hand under your smuggled shirt. 

“Tell me,” he pants, “who do you need to fill it for you?” 

“You, Joel.” 

“Fuck,” he chokes out, “you wanna ride this cock, huh baby?” 

“Mhmm.” Bingo. Right again. You wish you could feel the pressure of him inside of you, massaging and soothing away the agony. The weight of his body atop of yours, so solid and secure. You can just about feel the pressure of his pelvis grinding into you. The friction from the coarse curls at the base of his cock getting you closer and closer. 

“Know you’d do so good,” he cuts himself off with a low noise, “so damn sexy.” 

“What else would you do with me?” You wanna hear it. For your own fantasy and to know what he’s into.  

“I’d have you taking me down your throat til you’re crying on it for me, fuck,” a primal noise erupts from him.

Face fucking. Of course. You can’t deny that when he says it, your body responds instantaneously. Your pussy floods eagerly at the idea, and your cheeks burn hot from the visual he gives you. You swallow down your moans, and you can imagine the weight of him on your tongue and the strain of trying to swallow around his cock. 

“You wanna come down my throat?” As if that isn’t a fucking siren song that would make him steer a fleet of ships into a cliff? Your salacious words are too much. 

“Shit. Yeah, baby, wanna watch you swallow for me.” You let all your moans and gasps flow freely for him to hear. “I’m so fuckin’ close,” he can’t stop the words from spilling out his mouth, “let me hear it, baby,” he can’t stop his pending bliss either. “Please, baby, I can’t, oh f-fuck,” he cuts himself off with another primitive grunt, and that’s precisely what your cavewoman cunt wanted to hear. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The horny goblins chant out loud this time. You can envision sweaty, pleading Joel lurching toward a reckless, full-body climax. 

You’re far from grace when the crude sounds he lets out turn you into an uncivilized beast. You hear him gasping, growling, and whining for you. It plunges you into a staggering orgasm. Rolling waves of ecstasy leave you panting and sweating.  

You lie in bed, chest rising and falling beneath the Creed logo. You’re left stunned at the intensity. A dreamy smile spreads across your face, and warm contentment, like honey, pours slowly over your muscles. Relaxing you as your tension softens and you turn to pick your phone back up.

Why was it so wholly consuming just to listen to him? Imagining the mess he made again,

because of you. 

Maybe you’re just made for each other. 

You and Joel. 

Oh, god. You should start listening to Alanis Morissette and Evanescence and trade your car for a 1990s-era Toyota 4runner and a pack of Marlboro Smooths. Really lean into matching his freak and the divorced alt-rock vibes.

You laugh softly into your phone before a deep sigh possesses you, and you nearly fall asleep. You stretch and smile, letting your heavy eyelids rest. 

He’s muttering something at you, catching his breath from the stress of being that fucking horned up for you all evening. And the overexertion of lasting long enough to hear your sweet cries of release. 

“You’re unreal,” his smoky voice rings with awe. “Got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager.”

You snort at the juxtaposition of his tender voice and crude comment before ending the call with a whispered, “Goodnight.” 

It shouldn’t make you smile. 

But he’s somehow such an enticing disaster. A cliche lonely bachelor, a cocksure idiot who knows he’s got a big dick and a generous guy who was willing to fix a stranger's car. 

You shouldn’t be trying to justify it, but you know he had you figured out earlier. 

You may be sated tonight, but you won’t be able to rest.

Not until you get your hands on that DILF – or rather, your pussy on that dick. 

divider by @cyberangel-graphics

PLEASE tell me if you enjoyed or hated it 

OR throw rocks at me if you’re upset they didn’t smash yet or tell me ur favorite divorced dad rock song

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[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter twelve

Summary: It's not who the hell is Bucky, it's where the hell is Bucky?

Warning: Lack of Bucky. Mean Bucky is back (question mark?)

Word Count: 1654

Spotify Playlist | Tips

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Oh... Buck. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10

Your phone buzzed, an indication that you received a text, and you eagerly snatched it up. Only to find it was the regular pizza deal text from the local pizzeria you ordered from, one time. Sighing, you tossed your phone back onto the couch and wrapped your cardigan tighter around yourself. 

A few days had passed since that night Bucky left your apartment. In that time, he hadn’t returned any of your calls or texts, and he hadn’t been showing up at the bar. You had expressed your growing concern to the rest of the group, however they seemed unbothered. “He’s just being Bucky,” they all waved off with a casual shrug. 

As the day continued to pass without a word from him, your worry began to deepen. Each time your phone buzzed, your hope would flare, only to vanish when it wasn’t him. 

The first place you checked when you hadn’t heard back from him was his apartment. You had gone there during a time when you knew he wouldn’t be at work. Knocking on his door and calling his name, you waited around a few moments longer than you normally would, but there had been no answer. You had even asked his neighbors, but they explained that they rarely see him. 

You found yourself pacing the apartment, the thought of him possibly hurt or in trouble gnawed at you. Your mind raced. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

Grabbing your phone and keys, you decided to check the local hospital. It felt drastic, but the uncertainty was eating away at you. The cool air did little to calm your nerves as you walked toward the hospital. 

At the hospital’s reception desk, you explained your situation to the receptionist, trying to not rush your words and steady your breathing. “Hi, I was just wondering if my friend has been admitted here. He hasn’t been in touch for a few days, and I’m really worried. His name is James Barnes… but he might be under Bucky.” 

The receptionist took a moment to check her records, giving you a sympathetic look as she turned back to you. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have anyone by that name admitted.” 

Your heart sank, but you thanked the lady and headed toward the bar. As you walked, the city lights began to turn on as you debated your next move. Checking with Fury felt like the next logical step, but you worried it may be too extreme. 

Reaching the bar with heavy steps, your mind swirled with anxiety and unanswered questions. You saw that Natasha was already sitting at the booth. Concern was etched on her face as she looked up at you sliding into the booth. “Hey, everything okay? You don’t look so good.” 

You shook your head, fidgeting with the ends of your cardigan shelves. “I still haven’t heard from Bucky… I checked his apartment, the hospitals… nothing.” 

She reached out, a comforting hand resting on top of your trembling ones. “I know you’re worried, but remember,” she paused, taking a sigh. “This isn’t the first time he’s disappeared like this. He’s always had the habit of going off the grid for a week or two and then, one day we walk in here and he’s just back.” 

You nodded, a mixed feeling of frustration and relief rushed through you at her words. “I know, but it just feels different, Nat. Something doesn’t feel right.” 

Natasha gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a sympathetic look covering her face. “I get it, but he’s a tough guy, he knows what he’s doing,” 

You couldn’t shake the worry entirely, but her words gave you a small sense of hope. As the rest of the evening passed by, you found yourself staring at the empty seat across from you.

~

Over the rest of the weeks, you tried everything you could think of to try and get a reply from him. You continued to send him calls and texts, each one sounding more desperate as the days passed. You even resorted to sending him Snapchats of your kitten, hoping that a glimpse of the kitten you named, Alpine, together would prompt him to reach out. 

However, no matter how hard you tried, all you could see was that everything had only been delivered. He remained silent, and you were left unread. 

You checked your phone obsessively, hoping for some sign of him. 

The week rolled into the next, and you found yourself trying to distract yourself with work and drawing. No matter how hard to tried to focus on something else, your thoughts kept drifting back to Bucky. You found yourself returning to his apartment time and time again, hoping you would catch him. But each time, the door remained closed. 

~

After a night with the rest of your friends, the bar began to empty out. You had remained lost in your thoughts for most of the night, your gaze still fixed on the empty seat in front of you. 

Suddenly, the door to the bar swung open. Your heart began to race as the hope built up inside you. Stretching your neck out to turn toward the door, you locked gazes with Tony. 

Tony had been a friend of your group for years, he was the best mechanic in the city and did everything to help out with the bikes. He walked in, carrying a bulky-looking package. His eyes remained locked on yours, a bright smile spread across his face as he made his way over to the booth. 

“Evening ladies,” Tony greeted, the term ladies used to greet all five of you sat at the booth. “I’ve been meaning to give this to Barnes, but since he hasn’t shown up or answered his goddamn phone… I figured I’d better bring it to you.” 

You watched as Tony placed the cardboard box on the table in front of you. “What’s this?” you asked, curiosity filling your voice. 

Tony shot you a mischievous grin as he began opening the box, revealing a pastel pink motorcycle helmet adorned with intricate designs. “Barnes ordered this from the shop a couple of weeks ago…” he trailed on before handing it to you. “Like I said, he hasn’t come to collect it yet or answered any of my calls. But, I can only assume it’s for you.” 

Your eyes welled, the surprise of the gesture taking over your emotions. You reached out to look over the helmet, feeling the smooth surface beneath your fingertips. It was adorable, matching the color of your new cardigan perfectly, and the fact that Bucky had gone out of his way to order it for you filled your heart. 

“Thank you, Tony…” you sniffled, the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks. “I have no idea he was planning something like this.” 

Tony chuckled, his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, I’m glad I could get it to you, Cry Baby.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at Tony. He didn’t stay around much longer, with a nod and a wave, he bif you all farewell before leaving. 

Holding the helmet in your hands, you couldn’t help but think of Bucky. Why would he plan this gesture but then disappear, you thought? 

~

You felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation as you stood outside of Bucky’s apartment door, clutching the pink helmet. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you reached out to knock on his door. 

The sound of your knocking echoed in the hallway, you held your breath as you waited anxiously for a response. 

A surge of relief rushed through you as the door cracked open. However, it was short-lived as you looked up to see Bucky standing there, shirtless and caught off guard. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, and his skin shined from sweat. His eyes widened in surprise as he registered your presence.

“Hi…” you greeted him, offering a small smile in the awkwardness of the situation. “I, uh, Tony… Tony came by the bar tonight,” you tried to keep your voice steady while gesturing toward the helmet in your hands. “I just wanted to thank you for the helmet,”

His expression was guarded as his gaze went back and forth between you and the interior of his apartment. He stepped back slightly, closing the door with him, blocking your view into the apartment. “Oh, uh, yeah. No problem,” he mumbled, his tone terse and distant, if you hadn’t been hanging on his every word, you may have missed him adding your name at the end. 

He hadn’t used your name since you were four years old. Twenty years, he has only called you ‘Sweetheart,’ until now. It was a small detail, you should have easily overlooked but it felt significant somehow.

That was when you heard movement coming from the apartment, and the pieces fell into place. You tried to mask your embarrassment as you realized that you had most likely interrupted something more intimate. 

“I really appreciate it,” you said, trying to maintain your composure. “It, um, it was so thoughtful of you.” 

His eyes darted between you and the helmet, and you could see the tension in his posture as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Yeah, well, it’s no big deal,” he muttered, his voice strained.

You bit back the urge to apologize but instead, you focused on getting away as quickly as you could. “I’ll, uh, let you get back to… whatever you were doing,” you said, your voice tinged with embarrassment. 

Bucky nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah… thanks,” he mumbled, his gaze avoided yours.

With a final awkward smile, you turned to leave. As the door closed behind you, you made your way back down the hallway. Before rounding the corner, you stopped in your tracks turning back to look at his door. 

With a heavy sigh, you tore your gaze away and continued on your way.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 6

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, messy lesbian relationships/situationships, loser!ellie makes an appearance for 0.5 seconds, brief and indirection mention of marijuana, mentions of death, brief mention of reader's genitals (implies that reader has a vagina, but if you headcanon reader as a trans girl w/a penis, just pretend it's a metaphorical vagina, i fully encourage it), sexual speech and content (not fully smut but there are drops of it), depictions of nudity, minors do not interact

word count: 4.6k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

Abigail Anderson. Pre-med student. Rugby star. A brief hook-up from freshman year. 

And now approaching your frozen figure at a rather fast pace. 

As your shocked face emerges from behind the football you're still holding in your hands, Abby begins to register who it was that she’d almost killed via pigskin. 

“Oh, shit!” She murmurs your name as her jog comes to a stop at your feet. “I’m so sorry, my friend Jordan was being a dick. I meant to catch that.” 

You let out a nervous chuckle as your trembling fingers lift the football up to her. 

“Oh, it’s okay. My life definitely flashed before my eyes, but I’m alright otherwise.” You give her a smile. 

She returns it with a crooked one of her own, her fingers softly brushing against yours as she takes the football from you. 

“Well, you still look alive and pretty,” Abby says, tucking the ball underneath an arm. “And those were some impressive reflexes, I gotta say.” 

“Just practicing in case of a zombie apocalypse.” You joke, cheeks burning ever so slightly at her calling you pretty. “We can’t all be built like Themysciran Amazons the way you are.” 

“Themy-what?” Abby asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and chuckling. 

Your face erupts in flames in embarrassment from your geeky comic book reference. 

“Y-you know,” You stammer. “Like Wonder Woman. She’s from that island where it’s only women and they’re all these gorgeous, buff warriors who’ve renounced men.” 

Abby laugh. 

“Really? Well, thank you. You’re very cute for thinking I’m some hot warrior chick who’ll survive a zombie apocalypse.” 

Before you can respond, she continues. 

“How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you around much.” 

“Hey, I’ve been around.” You lie. You really haven’t been. “Probably haven’t noticed being an aspiring doctor and all.” 

“Still remember that, huh?” She smiles. 

“Of course.” You say, returning her smile. 

Freshman Year, Fall

You met Abby Anderson at the beginning of your freshman year when she was a sophomore. 

Being in a new and independent environment, you did what many single freshmen do upon first arriving: scoured the dating apps. 

Fresh out of a messy high school relationship, you came to college a little raw and emotionally vulnerable. You jumped into a casual relationship with a girl named Adriana within the first month of arriving on campus. After a drunken night of you and your roommate Tara recklessly swiping through your profile on a dating app, you somehow and hesitantly found yourself with a girlfriend after just two dates. 

The best word you would use to describe Adriana was nice. She was a pleasant person: brought you out on cute dates, paid for your food, always held your hand. You spent the two weeks of dating her trying to convince yourself that you were as into her as she was into you. But the further you tried to force attraction for her, the less interested you became. Then she introduced you to her friend, Abby Anderson. 

Abby was the kind of person that closeted gay girls would develop their first gay crush on at their initial glance. She was bold and exuded a sense of confidence & charisma that most 20-somethings haven’t achieved yet. People knew who she was when she walked around campus, whether personally or through reputation. Abby made friends quickly and kept them easily, so it was no shock that you got along very well with her when Adriana first introduced you. 

You pretended at the time not to notice the way Abby looked you up and down when first laying eyes on you. It was a quick glance and she pulled it off well enough that nobody else but you had caught it. You were amused by the way that Abby had held out her hand to you upon meeting. None of Adriana’s other friends had offered a handshake, and you chuckled quietly as you introduced yourself to her. 

Is she for real? A little prim and proper, you’d thought. You’d later find out it was merely her excuse to initiate physical contact. 

You’d originally come over to Adriana’s dorm to meet her friends, but you’d spent most of the time talking with Abby. She was very charming, keeping you engaged in conversation as if she’d known you for months already. She would ask you questions about yourself, seeming to be genuinely interested in your responses. It was effortless to keep up a banter with her, and she had you laughing in a way Adriana hadn’t been able to elicit from you herself. You weren’t fawning over Abby the way newly-discovered gays constantly were, but you were intrigued. By the end of the hang-out, you’d already exchanged numbers and socials. 

When Adriana amicably broke up with you a week later, saying that she felt as if “your heart didn’t seem quite into this” and “she’d like to see you comfortable” and “we honestly seem like we would vibe better as friends” over a phone call, you’d felt a wave of relief followed by a pang of guilt. You could tell that Adriana really didn’t feel any ill will towards you, but it did feel indecent that all you got out of the relationship was a mended heart as a result of the rebound. That, and a very interested Abby Anderson. 

It didn’t take a week since your split from Adriana that Abby was flirtatiously commenting under your Instagram posts or sending you at least ten snaps on Snapchat daily or messaging you borderline thirst traps accompanied by texts that were asking for your “opinion on her gym progress.” It was a mere five days since the break-up that you were dolling yourself up a bit to go hang out with Abby in her dorm room, just the two of you. 

Most of your friends playfully teased you about the position you’d placed yourself in. Hooking up with a recent ex’s friend seemed messy, but they encouraged you to put yourself out there all the same. Never having actually gone all the way with Adriana, they all hyped you up to hook up with Abby. All but one. 

“You’re judging me!” You said, lightly smacking Ellie’s arm. 

She chuckled, rolling her eyes at you. 

“I literally didn’t say anything, dude.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” You returned her eye roll with your own before jumping off your bed to walk towards your closet. 

“Just sounds like a guilty conscience to me.” She shrugged, leaning back onto your headboard. 

You sighed and said, “Should I feel guilty, though?” 

Ellie shrugged again nonchalantly before saying, “Not gonna tell you how to feel.” 

“I just want to know your opinion!” 

“It’s your love life, dude. It’s up to you, not me.” 

“I know that! But what do you think I should do?” 

“Make your own decisions.” She chuckled once more. 

You groaned, turning away from her to continue rifling through your closet. 

“You’re so fucking useless.” You complained, fingers weaving between hangers as you tried to select an outfit to see Abby later that day. 

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” Ellie replied, resting the palms of her hands on the back of her head as she watched you. 

Despite yourself, you giggled quietly. As you continued to browse through your wardrobe, you felt Ellie’s ocean green eyes trailing your every movement. You kept your back turned to her, hiding the flames tickling your cheeks.  

You hadn’t bothered the rest of your friends about this the way you did Ellie. They’d all given their blessing for you to sleep with Abby, but Ellie? Ellie was persistent in remaining mysteriously neutral. She refused to voice any kind of personal bias. She didn’t seem disinterested, but she also withheld offering up her genuine opinion on your Abby situation. And for some reason, this bothered you. Something about her unhelpfulness compelled you to pester her about it. You knew you didn’t need Ellie’s approval. So why did it feel like you did?  

Ellie watched as you picked out a short dark blue dress, spreading it out on your bed next to her. She listened to you question yourself out loud on whether you should wear fishnet stockings underneath it or just go bare. She felt the way your fingers lingered when brushing softly against hers after she handed you your silver hoop earrings laying next to her on your bedside table. She inhaled your signature lavender scent as you slowly caressed your arms and legs up and down while applying your favourite lotion.

It felt so strange, prettying yourself up for another girl while Ellie sat on your bed and watched. She and you were just friends. You’ve never been anything more than that. Why did it feel strange, then? 

Are we though? Just friends? 

The way you’d stare at the way her big, calloused hands moved when she’d be rolling a joint or etching in her journal. The way she observed the exact manner your lips moved every time you spoke or laughed. The way you always noticed when she’d trace that intricate arm tattoo of hers when she’d get lost in thought. The way she watched exactly how your smile would often meet your soft eyes. 

Is this just friendship?

Ellie observed as you sat at your desk and carefully began applying your makeup, scooting towards the foot of your bed to better marvel at your technique. She’d begun to learn the routine you had by heart, mesmerized by how carefully and naturally your hands moved in a creative dance. She blurted out a compliment about how you were an artist for the way you did your makeup. You attempted to brush it off, but she insisted. You’re the artist here, she’d said. 

After finishing applying a shade of dark red lipstick, you gave yourself one last satisfied look in your mirror. You got up and began to shake your hair out of the bun it was in, walking to the foot of your bed where both your dress and Ellie waited. You looked at your chosen attire for the night and were suddenly hit with a predicament. 

“Umm, Ellie?” 

“What’s up, man?” 

“D-do you think you could help me with something?” 

“Uh… sure?” 

Your fingers fiddled with the bottom of your t-shirt. Your face flushed for what felt like the millionth time today. 

“C-can you help me put my dress on?” 

Ellie looked like someone dumped a bucket of ice-cold water right over her head. 

“What?” 

You scratched the back of your neck, a habit you’d picked up from her. 

“I forgot how t-tight this dress is, and I might fuck up my makeup if I just pull it on myself. Can you help me g-get it on?” 

Ellie’s face remained unreadable as she looked you up and down. 

“Yeah, okay.” She said finally. 

“T-thanks.” You said, nervously biting the inside of your cheek. 

Normal friends do not get nervous when they ask their friends to help them get dressed. 

“Just…just one second.” You said, meekly holding a finger up before turning your back to her. 

As you profusely thanked past you for already putting on your desired underwear for tonight, you carefully peeled off your t-shirt and threw it to the side. Though you had your back to her, you could feel Ellie’s gaze land on the black lace bra you’d decided on earlier. When you shed your pajama shorts, her eyes then drifted onto the matching black lace panties that left very little to the imagination. 

She quickly averted her stare as you turned to face her, not fully meeting each other’s eyes. 

“Do you think you could—?” You gestured to your dress next to her on the bed. 

“Yeah.” She said, picking it up before approaching you. 

You watched her face as she lifted the dress above your head. Her tense fingers gripped the collar tightly as you raised your arms. You felt goosebumps form where her hands inadvertently brushed against your skin, lowering the dress onto your figure. As you fit your head and arms through, she pulled the dress all the way down to your thighs. You tugged your hair out from the collar and let it fall behind you when your eyes met hers. 

“Uhh,” She said awkwardly. “Your lipstick…” 

Your right hand flew up to your mouth. 

“Oh shit, did it smudge—?” 

“Yeah, a little, but it’s okay, I got it.” 

“Wh—“ 

Before you could react any further, Ellie licked her thumb and brought it to the edge of your bottom lip. It was as though your entire body was set on fire the exact second that you felt the wetness from her finger meet the corner of your mouth. Her eyebrows furrowed as she rubbed off the small streaks of smeared lipstick. You could have sworn she could hear how loud your heart was beating in the moment, feel the way it echoed through your entire body. You felt your mouth water as your eyes fell on her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. Someone could easily sneak into your room right now and rob you blind, the way you both remained completely encaptured in this moment. 

“There,” Ellie whispered. “Got it.” 

Her thumb slowly drifted from your lip to your cheek, her hand suddenly caressing your face. You were frozen in place, trying not to combust as every cell in your body danced fervently. Her ocean green irises kept darting back and forth between your eyes and your crimson lips. Both your mouths were parted, the unsaid at the tip of both your tongues, waiting for whoever was bravest to let the truth drip out. 

But instead, after what felt like twenty-five years, Ellie let her hand drop from your face back to her side. She swallowed and cleared her throat, breaking eye contact with you to stare at the floor. You blinked and gulped, quickly plummeting back to reality. 

“Th-thanks, El.” 

“No problem, bro.” 

“Bro.” Ugh. Okay, Ellie. 

You were far less clothed a minute ago, and yet somehow you now were feeling much more naked than ever before. 

“I-I think I left the shoes I want across the hall in Sidney’s room. Give me a sec?” 

“Yeah, man. Go ahead.” 

You nodded and retreated quickly out the door. As you shut it behind you, you leaned against it and clutched at your chest with both hands. 

Oh god, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck. What just happened? What the fuck. Fuck. 

Inside your room and unbeknownst to you, Ellie was leaning against her side of the door, quietly cursing to herself. 

“Did I really just fucking do that? What the fuck, oh my fucking god. God damn it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

You blinked. 

“Yes! Sorry, just spaced out for a second.” 

You adjusted yourself under the covers to turn more towards Abby. Your previously glassy eyes met her concerned ones. 

“Was it that bad?” She joked. 

“No, oh my god, Abby,” You giggled, covering your face with your hands. “I think you getting me to cum twice in less than a minute speaks for itself.” 

Abby smirked. 

“Only twice? Wanna add a couple more to that?” She said, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you better. 

“I think my pussy needs a sec before you make her see heaven again.” You replied. 

“Mmm,” was all Abby said in reply, drinking in your naked figure in her bed. 

The rest of the evening seemed surreal. Ellie had watched you finish getting ready, remaining mostly quiet for the rest of the time. She didn’t touch you again, almost as if she was afraid to. She’d walked you partway to Abby’s building before giving the excuse that she had some client she needed to meet. Her signature Converse stormed off without a second glance back at you. As you waved her off, you thought about how she didn’t have anything on her to sell, and you both knew it. 

Throughout the entire night with Abby, though you allowed yourself to unwind and have some fun for once, your thoughts still continued to dance back incessantly to your auburn-haired friend. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” Abby asked. 

“Just taking a minute and being impressed by you.” 

Abby laughed. 

“So not that bad, huh?” She joked. “But really. What’s up?” 

You pursed your lips. You liked Abby, but she did not need to know all about this “friendship” of yours with Ellie. 

“Not gonna lie,” You said, quickly coming up with a lie. “I was feeling really guilty before coming here tonight. Just cause Adriana’s your friend and we just broke up.” 

It wasn’t completely far from the truth. You were feeling guilty about seeing Abby after Adriana. But she wasn’t the lesbian who you couldn’t get out of your head all night. 

“Mm, that does make sense.” Abby replied, understanding. “It’s true, though. What I said earlier. Adriana did say it was okay.” 

Sometime after you’d arrived at Abby’s dorm and before you’d both dropped the pretense of you coming over just to “hang out,” Abby disclosed that she’d asked for Adriana’s permission to fool around with you already. You were a bit surprised, but pleasantly so. You did come here tonight with specific intentions, but it did relieve you to know that Adriana meant it when she’d expressed no ill will towards you. And it kindled a warmth in you that Abby’d gone into this prepared and still with the respect of her friend. 

“No, I know,” You said, the crease between your eyebrows crinkling as you thought up a quick lie. “I just… I still like Adriana as a person and I didn’t want my wandering vagina to get in the way of your friendship with her.” 

Abby suddenly guffawed, her laugh so infectious and genuine that it made you giggle in response. 

“D-did you just say ‘wandering vagina,’ oh my g—” She chortled. “Never heard that before.” 

You shrugged, smiling at how easily amused Abby has been turning out to be. 

“You say the strangest shit, you know?” Abby said, still chuckling. 

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” You replied, to which Abby smiled. 

“But really though,” Abby continued. “You don’t have to worry about me and Adriana. We’re still cool; nothing’s changed in our friendship. You both told me you weren’t serious, and she’s also just someone who’s never been possessive or jealous as a person. We’re all adults here, so no need to feel guilty. I promise.” 

“Yeah, that…that does help.” You said, hoping that answer would suffice for Abby. 

Abby seemed like she wanted to press more but decided against it. Instead, she grabbed your hips all of a sudden and lifted you up to place you on top of her, making you straddle her waist. 

“Wh—Abby!” You said, startled. Your arms instinctively flew up to cover your bare breasts, the bed covers no longer shrouding your nakedness. 

Abby chuckled, reaching up to your wrists and pulling them away from your chest. 

“Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you have such a serious thinking face on?” She said. 

A bashful look crossed your face as you stuttered a quiet “no” in response. 

Abby smirked, dropping your wrists and placing her hands on your waist, tracing up and down your inner thighs with her thumbs. Your breath hitched and you gulped, feeling yourself instinctively grind against her. 

“Well, you are.” She said. “And you’re cute, acting all shy about being naked in front of me like I wasn’t just knuckles deep inside you ten minutes ago.” 

You bit your lip, partly from embarrassment and partly because Abby’s tracing of your thighs turned into squeezing. 

“Y-you w-weren’t… knuckles-deep…” You stammered. 

Abby chuckled, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why the hell are you correcting me on how far inside of you I was anatomically?” She asked, extremely amused. 

“I don’t know!” You said, flustered and rolling your eyes. 

Abby chuckled, wrapping a muscular arm around your waist to keep you steady as she sat up to be at eye-level with you. With her free hand, she firmly gripped your chin between her large fingers and forced your eyes to meet hers. 

“You’re very easy to fluster, you know.” She whispered. 

“I-I—” was all that you could get out before Abby’s lips found yours. The sentence you’d meant to continue instead turned into a quiet shriek of surprise then into a lustful sigh that melted into the kiss. 

Not ten seconds later, Abby pulled away slightly, a cocky look on her face. 

“Any more anatomical complaints, then?” She murmured. 

“Not at all, Dr. Anderson.” You chuckled breathlessly. 

You jolted as Abby laughed again all of a sudden, grabbing both your shoulders for support. 

“Was it… that funny?” You chuckled, a little confused. 

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Abby said. “It’s just that—my dad was Dr. Anderson.” 

“Your dad?” 

“Yeah, he was a doctor.” She explained. “Before he passed, he used to be a surgeon back when my family and I lived in Utah.” 

Shit, her dad. Of course. 

Abby had mentioned her father to you several times already. You didn’t know much about him other than the fact that Abby completely adored the man and that he had died when she was only 16. 

“Right, makes sense.” You said, wrapping your arms around her neck. 

Abby’s father didn’t seem like an off-limits topic with her. In fact, you were in awe of how at peace she was with it. She seemed happy to talk about her dad, somehow able to acknowledge his passing and yet speak of him as if he was always present in a way. She didn’t make it uncomfortable to ask about him, and you often had the impression that she actually preferred it when others didn’t fuss over it. So you made sure not to. 

“So no to calling you Dr. Anderson, then?” You asked. 

“Well, actually,” Abby embraced your waist and pulled you closer to her body. “Kind of studying to be a doctor. Like him.” 

“Wait, really?” You replied, a bit of shock in your voice. “How did I not know that?” 

“Don’t really know, pretty girl,” She replied, smirking. “Got too distracted by my washboard abs to notice?” 

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.” You scoffed, smiling and rolling your eyes. 

Abby chuckled before leaning into your neck to leave trails of kisses. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re also very cute when you have a little bit of an attitude?” She asked, lifting her head up slightly in between kisses. 

“Mm, I don’t know,” You sighed, pulling her further into you and trying not to grind too eagerly against her once again. “Maybe once or twice. But why don’t you remind me, Dr. Anderson?” 

You heard Abby suddenly moan in your ear, almost growling, before you were suddenly thrown on your back onto the bed. Any words that meant to roll off your tongue were replaced instead with cries of pleasure as your knees were pried apart with Abby’s strong hands, her mouth finding ways to answer your question without words. 

Present Day 

“So still planning on becoming a surgeon, then?” You ask. 

“Starting med school immediately after I graduate this year.” Abby replies. 

“Wow,” You say, impressed. “That’s really soon. Are you nervous about it?” 

“Hmm, not nervous, exactly,” Abby replies, thinking. “I grew up around doctor shit, so I have a tiny idea of what I’m facing. I’m choosing to stay positive about it all for now.” 

“Commendable,” You smile. “How the hell have you been surviving all your pre-med shit with sports and all?” 

“Hey,” She says, shrugging. “You said it yourself. I’m basically a superhero.” 

You chuckle. You’ve forgotten just how confident Abby is and how attractive it was to see it in action. 

“Right, of course. How could I forget?” 

“You know, maybe if I really was Wonder Woman, I could attend my next class and get a coffee with you right now. If you’re not busy, that is.” 

“That is not how Wonder Woman works, Abby.” You say, giggling. 

“Oh, whatever.” Abby laughs, rolling her eyes. “Forgot just how much of a nerd you were, pretty girl.” 

“Hey—” You start. 

“YO ABS, are you gonna throw that shit back or keep flirting with hot chicks?!” A voice behind Abby calls. 

Abby grunts in annoyance, turning around to face her friend Jordan who was several feet away from where you both were. 

“Stop throwing like a little bitch and we wouldn’t be having this problem, dumbass!” She calls back at him, to which he replies with a playful, “Oh, fuck off!”

You watch as Abby draws back, arms flexing as she throws the football in a quick, perfect spiral towards Jordan. He catches it, but not before it makes a loud thud against his chest. 

“OW, FUCK—" He shouts in pain. 

“Dumbass!” She hollers in response. 

You're both chuckling when she turns back to face you. 

“Need to go?” You ask. 

“Didn’t you hear? I’m busy flirting with hot chicks. Well, just one hot chick.” 

Your purse your lips, sheepish. 

“So,” She said. “Coffee?” 

“Abby, you just said you had a class to get to in a bit. Also,” You gesture to your mostly-empty coffee cup still next to you in the grass. “Beat you to the punch.” 

“Ah, fuck.” 

“Sorry,” You chuckle. “I’ve also got class in,” You checked your phone for the time. “Around five minutes or so.” 

“Wow, you really wanna avoid getting a coffee with me that bad, huh?” 

“Oh, absolutely. I premeditatedly mapped out my entire class schedule this semester just so I didn’t have to hang out with you right at this moment.” You joke. 

“I knew it.” 

You laugh. 

“Can I at least walk you to class, though?” Abby asks. 

“Sure,” You replies. “But what about your class?” 

“Got a bit of time; don’t worry about it.” 

You smile before you gather your things together quickly. You reach for your coffee cup but it disappears suddenly before your hand is even inches from it.  

“Abby!” You exclaim, jumping up onto your feet as you quickly pull your backpack on. 

“What?” She questions, walking backwards while still facing you to throw your coffee cup away in a nearby trash can. 

“I can’t throw away my own trash?” 

“Just being helpful.” She says, shrugging. 

“You can’t be both a superhero and some chivalrous lesbian knight.” 

“I can do whatever I want, pretty girl.” 

You feel your face getting hot once more. 

“So,” She starts. “Which way is your next class?” She begins walking in the wrong direction. 

“About twenty feet east of where you’re heading, silly.” 

“Oh, uhh…” Abby stops in her tracks, eyebrows furrowed in concentration while processing your directions. 

You laugh and roll your eyes, grabbing her arm and leading her towards the building your next class was in. 

“Straley Hall, right in front of you, dummy. Remind me never to travel across the country with you.” You say. 

“What kind of nerd actually says ‘east’ when giving directions!” She complains. 

“That’s a perfectly normal thing to say!” 

“Why are the cutest girls always the weirdest ones?” Abby says, shaking her head. 

You looked away from her, trying to hide your embarrassed smile. 

“How are you supposed to save people’s lives when you don’t even understand simple directions, Dr. Anderson?” 

She smirks at your comment and her lips form to reply with a retort of their own. 

Just a few feet down the brick college road, Ellie stands frozen on the spot. Her hands are balled up in fists and her jaw is clenched. Her ocean green eyes trail after your unknowing figure, fixating on the wide smile on your lips as you let out peals of genuine laughter and your fingers still gently caressing the bicep of golden girl and star athlete, Abigail Anderson.

author's notes:

HAHAHAHA "in case of a zombie apocalypse" get it, cause the game is set in a zomb—yeah y'all get it (sorry not really)

let's all take a brief sexy second together and imagine abby as amazon from themyscira... now let's all let out the collective horny sigh together.

thank you all for being so patient waiting for this one. life has been... yeah (if you've been keeping up with the personal stuff I've said on my blog the last week, that should add more context to what a shit my life has been recently). i've been having to push myself with writing lately cause i feel like i'm getting too into my head about it. but thank y'all so much for being supportive and all, thank you for not giving up on me!

not gonna lie, loves. i may have gotten extremely horny writing certain scenes in this and had to take multiple breaks because my mind was concocting too many distracting scenarios as a result (the ellie scene took me days to get through to write, i'm so dead serious, and the smut-adjacent abby scene almost turned into a full-fledged smut scene cause i'm such a fucking lesbian, oops, i genuinely had to restrain myself so i could write the story the way i actually have it planned out).

abby having no sense of direction at the end of the chapter is just a personal reference to me when i played tlou2 for the first time and when i was playing as abby at the very start when she's mad at owen for getting mel pregnant and trying to go after joel on her own, i got lost for like 10 minutes just going in circles in the fucking woods and snow like a moron. just wanted to be a little bit silly by creating no sense of direction!abby hehe

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriessxinthespring, @amitycat, @chrissyfishywissy, @yevheniiaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnoviecita, @oatmilkchaii, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky, @ximtiredx, @qtefolleunpez, @libr4sonsa

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOURTEEN

in which eddie finally offers you an honesty hour. which is great, until you learn you've bit off more than you're capable of chewing. (oh, and we find out more of what happened at steve's infamous party)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 5k+

→ a/n: there is still one more bit of the memory left for steve's party!! i broke it into three bits because otherwise it would be too long as one giant clump lol. sorry this is being posted so late... but hey! it's here! see y'all again thursday lol thank you to everyone for continuing to be so kind about this story and show it so much love

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

14:00 ────────ㅇ─────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER 

It’s Eddie. You only know because when Nancy opens the door, she greets him loudly, letting her drunken squeal echo down the hallway and into the kitchen. 

“Munson! Finally!” her voice carries, and you fight the urge to try and move to peek through the doorway to see him, “Took you long enough!” 

Eddie's voice is too quiet for you to hear his reply. He’s not drunk, not fueled by reckless decisions and overflowing affections like most of the other friends were already. 

There’s a terrible twisting in your gut at his arrival, and you know it shows across your face when Robin looks at you apologetically. As if for a moment, they had forgotten they way you and Eddie avoided each other. As if for a moment, they had all pretended that the entire group could convene and it could be easy, and that was on them instead of you or Eddie. But it wasn’t on them. That blame could never fall on them.

It was on Eddie, you decided. He was the one who more ardently avoided you rather than vice versa. He was the one with a sharper tongue between the two of you, always snappy, always irritated with you. It was on Eddie. It should be on Eddie. 

Except, you still felt bad about the Chrissy ordeal. He may have acted as if he disliked you for no reason before, but now he was hating you with reason. You can’t blame him; you’d do the same thing.  If he ruined a date like that, stomped all over possible potential and threw it away without even considering your feelings involved, you’d be out for blood.

You sort of needed to apologize, and needed to apologize soon. 

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle calls out from the couch. It captures your attention just in time to look over and watch as Eddie enters the room, his back facing you, his shoulders slack beneath his leather jacket. 

He’s relaxed. You’re immediately sure that he doesn’t know you’re here yet. 

“Hey, man,” he greets with a gravelly voice, an edge of fatigue to it you’re familiar with. It’s the kind of tiredness that follows long weeks, as you two had spoken about that first night. For a second, you wonder if he’s still having those. And if he is, how often they happen, if he ever comes home from them and thinks about that night, if he has anyone to call when it’s late and they haunt him.

You know you don’t. Neither Steve nor Robin are ever awake that late, or at least don’t answer the phone at that time of day, and you don’t feel close enough with the rest of the group to burden them like that.

There had been a time where you would wonder if Eddie could have become that person, if the type of conversation you two had at the bar the first night could ever translate over phone lines. But that time had been early on, and was long dead. It laid in an unmarked grave with all your other ponderings of what a friendship with Eddie might look like. 

“We can keep you two apart,” Robin whispers, or at least tries to whisper. She’s loud, “He said he had work and wouldn’t make it. We… We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.” 

Oh. 

Oh, what a knock to your pride. Robin means nothing harmful of the words, they should be neutral and just an explanation offered to you. But your mind takes them in its grasp and runs, runs, runs. 

“We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.” 

You’re the backup plan. You see it now, and it sucks, but you press your lips into a cellophane smile that Robin can’t see through in her flurry to distract you with an offering of you two plus Steve having another round of drinks. You decide to take a straight shot of the nearest bottle of vodka, swallowing it down to drown your already sinking heart. You fake laugh when Steve tells bad jokes, you make up lies about your dates of the last few weeks, deciding you no longer care if you add in more details to look less pathetic. 

You’re the backup plan. So you’re sure they won’t notice when you spin a new version of yourself.

This version of you that spews from your lips has gotten lucky more times in the last month than you have in the last year. This version of you is always the one having the last say in conversations, the one leaving men on read rather than the tables being flipped as they were in reality. 

Robin says nothing, even when she notices some of the things you say not aligning with what you’d told her earlier that week.  She only side-eyes you as Steve drinks in every detail, only disrupting to suggest another shot. 

At some point, she gets too drunk to side-eye you. 

“Fuck,” Steve sighs, throwing his head back as he glances out to his living room, where Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, and Eddie have taken to sitting in an oblong circle around on his and Robin’s furniture, “I need some fresh air. Anyone else?” 

“Me,” Robin responds so quickly, you would have made fun of her if you didn’t notice the sickly shade of green creeping up on her. 

Steve looks at you, raising an eyebrow, but you only shake your head. It makes the room threaten to spin. Maybe, just maybe, you should have slowed your roll with the vodka shots. Maybe.

“I’ll stay in here, hold down the fort,” you promise, letting your eyes fall shut before you inhale deeply through your nose, exhaling softly through parted lips. 

No way. You hadn’t drunk nearly enough tonight to excuse getting sick as Robin was seemingly about to. 

Robin and Steve leave you be as you compose yourself. You think you hear them extend the offer to everyone in the living room, but you can’t make out who agrees to go and who stays. But as you listen to all the footsteps making their way out the front door, Steve calling out that they’d be back soon, you start to become convinced you’ll open your eyes to an empty apartment. 

You open them to an empty kitchen. So far, so good.

But then a voice clears their throat from the living room, just as you pull your phone out of your pocket. You open it to find the cursed dating app still open, your messages with the bartender still staring you back in your face. The bartender you thought you’d hit it off with. The bartender that had stood you up the night before. 

Fuck him, you think bitterly as you turn to find Eddie entering the kitchen. Because of course, given your luck, Eddie was the only one who stayed back. 

“Those apps fucking suck,” Eddie notes, using the neck of his beer bottle to gesture in the general direction of your phone. 

You look between him and the lit up screen for a moment, finding half the mind to click out of the private messages, “You’ve used them in the past?” 

“Nope.”

You wait for a second, giving him the chance to elaborate. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, he’s Eddie. If he explained himself to you, that would just be too easy. 

“Okay,” you sigh, squinting at the page and past the vodka, trying to fumble your way back onto the screen that would show you eligible bachelors in your area, letting you swipe and judge them by solely looks as if they weren’t actual people on the other side of the phone. As if they weren’t more than a reservoir of attention at your fingertips. 

Maybe that had been your mistake with the bartender – you let him become a real person to you.

“Why are you even still on them? I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.” 

It’s something in the way he says it. One moment, you’re looking down, ignoring him. The next, you can’t help but lift your head in shock. The words all felt sharpened and poised for a kill, ready for an attack you hadn’t expected so early on in the night. 

“I-” you don’t know how to defend yourself. You don’t know whether to stick by the lies you’ve told tonight, or to be concerned with who was telling Eddie about your love life, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.”

Eddie grins and leans on a counter across from you, “You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the body count you’ve got there, player.” 

You’re drunk. You tell yourself that’s why you take his words straight to heart – you’re drunk, and therefore, you’re sensitive. 

“You’re bluffing,” you snap, “You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.” 

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying,” you spit finally, crossing your arms defensively. Your emotions were rising too high, too quickly, and you blame the vodka. You blame the vodka and you blame the drink Steve had made you. You blame the bartender who stood you up. And most importantly, you blame Eddie. 

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, as if he expects you to shrink in cowardice when he stands up straight and takes several steps across the kitchen to be closer to you, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up. Everyone strikes ou-”

“I’m pathetic?” you scoff and interrupt him, not even paying any attention to where he was going. The tips of your ears are starting to flame with a red tinge, “Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.” 

“I did!”

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.” 

He freezes up entirely, grin faltering before your eyes, “How do you know that?” 

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” you roll your eyes at the cracks in his composure, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” Eddie grumbles, reserving himself back to his side of the kitchen. If someone came in and squinted closely, they’d find that imaginary boundary between the two of you, an invisible line that would not be crossed. Not here, not tonight. You wouldn’t touch Eddie Munson with a twelve-foot pole if you could help it. 

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.” 

You can see his agitation spreading like wildfire across his face, in the tick of his jaw and the twitch of his eyes. You can practically see the words that linger on his tongue as he bites down on it – it is your fault. 

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice goes monotonous as he crosses his arms, and the muscles strain against his shirt. His leather jacket has long been discarded, probably thrown over the back of the couch or a chair in the living room. 

You mirror him, crossing your arms, letting the screen of your phone press into your side, “I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment,” his eyebrows furrow and you consider the consequences of chucking your phone at him. 

Your irritation, your own agitation, is all bubbling beneath your skin. If it wasn’t for the vodka mingling with it, you would have been squirming from the discomfort. Usually, he doesn’t get to you. Normally, his off-handed comments come with a sting that can quickly fade. 

None of the jabs are fading tonight. They only seem to linger. Because he’s right, and you hate that he’s right. 

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going?” you uncross your arms, waving your hands wildly into the empty air between you and Eddie, “We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?” 

Eddie swallows hard, and you can watch the words wash over him, but you’re unsure of which of your drunken slurs specifically got to him. You weren’t wrong in any of your statements, you weren’t outlandish in either of your guesses. But your words have frozen him up all the same and you aren’t sure why. 

“You’re right,” when he physically melts, the deathly chill remains in his voice, “We aren’t friends. But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?” 

It’s in the way he says it, confirms it. 

We aren’t friends.

He hisses it out as if it were a painful reminder, as if saying those words burn him eternally. He says them as if they are capable of sending ice through his veins and bones alike. 

You know why he froze now, and it’s too late. 

“Well-” you pause, unsure of how exactly to respond. You’ll be having a talk with Robin, surely. But technically, Nancy was your friend, right? Surely, she was allowed to know the drama of your love life, wasn’t she? “You say that as if Nancy and I aren't friends.” 

“Are you?” he tilts his head tauntingly, as if he knows something you don’t. 

“We… are.” 

He catches the hesitation; he runs with it. He finds the handle of the knife you’d tried to keep so hidden, and he twists as hard as he can.

“Would Nancy agree if we asked her?” he hums, as if he were seriously contemplating this, as if it were a mediocre debate rather than a question of if you had friends or not, “Do you even have her on Instagram?”

“You, her supposed best friend, don’t have her on Instagram.” 

“Because I don’t have Instagram, full stop.” 

“Instagram isn’t the normal gauge of friendship,” you defend yourself, “Some people can have thousands of followers and no friends.” 

You don’t have Nancy on Instagram. You don’t follow her, she doesn’t follow you. The most she’s acknowledged your presence on the app was tagging you in a photo on a night out once. 

“It’s not about follower count,” Eddie shrugs, “It’s about mutual followings. That’s how Hollywood dictates whether celebrity couples are still together these days, yeah? If they follow each other. If you’re friends, you’d follow each other.” 

The vodka makes you bold. Bold enough to mutter out, “Oh, fuck you,” in response to Eddie’s prodding. 

“Wait, I-” you watch an unfamiliar emotion pass over Eddie’s face, something kin to regret. But his words are already out in the air, he’s already twisted the knife in your gut fully. He’s already spilled your blood in the middle of Steve’s kitchen, with no one around to witness it. He did it for himself – he did it for his own pleasure, his own enjoyment.

He enjoys hurting you. 

“Save it,” you mutter, slowly deflating as you turn your back to him, facing the counter to grab your drink to nurse your wounds. 

If you looked close enough in the corner of the room, you would have seen the shovel you should have used to bury away your hope of a friendship with Eddie. You should have piled the dirt over the casket, should have put 6 feet of soil and earth and worms between you and that fruitless yearning. 

But you didn’t. He hadn’t taken it quite far enough yet. 

Yet. 

But then he had to cross that invisible barrier. He just had to walk across the kitchen, come up behind you, and not mind his own business. He just had to look over your shoulder just as you opened the bartender’s profile again, if for nothing else than to further hurt yourself for the night.

You were so caught up in your own disappointment, you never saw the flash of recognition that crossed Eddie’s face. Only the anger that followed.

—

HOUR FOURTEEN - 5:00 AM 

You don’t bother with putting pants back on, only Eddie’s sweatshirt. At this point, pants were just beginning to feel like a nuisance when it came to the two of you. A nicetie, as one might put it.

What were the points of niceties with him if he could never hate you? 

You have the entire five minutes he spends in the bathroom to try and compose yourself. To try and desperately ruminate through these feelings and detach them from everything that was transpiring. The emotions didn’t belong here, there weren’t twists of guilt and sorrow of loss involved for Eddie when he was fucking you. 

So why is that all you could feel right now? 

He could never hate you, but he had spent the last year doing exactly that, hadn’t he? 

“Hey,” he reappears in the entryway of the kitchen with the worst possible timing, right in the eye of the storm that had begun to cloud over your mind. He holds up a pack of cigarettes you can only assume he’d snagged from his room, “I’m, uh- I was gonna grab a smoke out on the balcony. Join me?” 

There’s something of desperation in the way he asks you. All the words are casual, but his tone is an undermining plea; please say yes, please join me, please let me in. He knows something’s wrong, and he’s not just turning a blind eye and ignoring it this time. 

You stare at the pack of Marlboro Reds for a few seconds before shrugging, “Sure.” 

It’s certainly not as enthusiastic as you’re sure he was hoping for, but he smiles at the small victory nonetheless.

The first thing you notice about his balcony, aside from the clustered furniture, is the view. You’ve never thought your city to be very charming, always looking at it from a pedestrian’s view or through the lens of a tired, crabby college student embarking on another late night. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d step foot on a higher floor of a building like Eddie’s, one just tall enough to see over the rooftops of most of the mundane buildings, one that could peer right over the skyline and show a new dawn breaking. It’s a flourish of pink, orange, and violet, each shade stealing away another breath. The sun is just barely yawning over the horizon, just finally awakening. 

God, you’re going to regret not actually sleeping during this time.

“What’s got you scowling?” Eddie mumbles the question out around a cigarette, pausing with his lighter in midair.

You turn your head, and- just like that, all the anger and confusion melts away. He’s painted in the same shades of the sunrise, in a golden light that almost seems to be emitted from him rather than the waking sun. He is all soft edges and tired eye bags, a stubble that you can imagine the itch of against your palm if you were to reach out a hand to hold his face. If you were to kiss him right now, you fear he might dissolve all over your tongue, leaving nothing but his sweetness behind to remind you it was all real. 

It’s real. Even if it doesn’t make sense with what you guys projected before tonight, even if it doesn’t align with how your lives will continue on, tonight was real. You were here, he was here, and what happened…. Simply happened. 

I could never hate you. 

You get it now. Because in this lighting, with a soft breeze tugging your hair and mind alike, you know you feel the same way about him. And you know it contradicts all you have shown him in the past. 

You could never hate him. He could never hate you. It’s unfortunate that that’s what you’d been calling it before tonight – hate. 

“It’s going to really suck,” you breathe out half a sentence. Two endings before you: letting this night go or, “Not sleeping for a full twenty four hours.” 

You don’t know how he does it, how he looks at you like he knows you had something else to say. But he gives you those eyes, and they almost elicit the truth from you. 

Almost. 

He throws his head back in laughter, and the pinks and purples and all the fights wasted are now trailing down his neck, “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” 

He’s much better at pretending than you are. You know that now. 

“Seriously,” you turn and walk to the railing, crossing your arms against the metal grate before he joins you at your side, “I’ll probably ditch my classes on Monday. I’ll have to sleep twenty four hours straight to even the score.” 

“God, I wish I could fuck off for Monday,” Eddie groans. He’s throwing his head back again, and you can’t help but wish you could replace the golden rays with your lips. You wish your warmth could sink beneath his skin like the sun’s does. 

“You can’t?” your voice cracks with the question as he finally lights the cigarette between his lips. 

He takes a long drag, shaking his head with the exhale of smoke, “Nope. I work Mondays at the shop.”

“The shop?”

“Myo’s,” the way his lips curl around the filter of his cigarette as he fights his grin burns a hole in the middle of your chest. Burning and erupting, yearning and longing, ignored and buried, “The auto shop on Main street.” 

You know by the way he looks at you that the name should ring a bell, but considering you don’t own a car, you don’t have the slightest clue what his job is, “Oh, so you’re a mechanic?” 

“I- Yeah,” he nods slowly, “Yeah, I’m a mechanic,” he pauses and you can see that he has more to say, it just takes him a moment. He looks off the balcony, shifts his weight between his two feet, takes another drag of nicotine. When he finally gathers his thoughts, you’re patient and waiting, biting back a small smile the moment he whips his face towards you, “Have we seriously never talked about that before? I swear I’ve told you I’m a mechanic.”

“Nope, seriously. Never.”

“There’s no fuckin’ way.”

“There absolutely is a way,” you laugh, letting your head fall backwards and not catching the way his gaze falls on you. The sunrise paints you in just as beautiful of a lighting as it had him. If someone asked you, you’d say that you doubt he noticed, but he did. He noticed. He always noticed, “Usually, by now, we’d be at each other’s throats.” 

“We sort of were,” he shrugs, eyes still glued to how your collarbone peaks out from beneath his sweatshirt, “Surprised we didn’t leave more hickies.” 

The topic you’d been avoiding. The topic he seemed indifferent about. 

I could never hate you. 

You decide to put his words to the test.

“Are we going to talk about it?” you ask, looking down now and picking at flakes along the metal railing, still not noticing him noticing you, “About…. what we just did?” 

“Are you always this straight to the point?” he chuckles nervously. In your peripherals, you catch the way he leans and mirrors you, side by side on the railing. His light cigarette hung loosely between indifferent fingers. Indifference, indifference, indifference. 

If you’d just look at him, you’d see anything but indifference written across his face. 

“Only when it matters,” you reply, breathing in his secondhand smoke, “Only when it’s important.”

His pinky is within reach of yours once more, just like at the parking garage. Even after feeling the entire expanse of his bare skin against yours, you still crave more – you crave for the intimacy that comes from hooking pinkies as grown adults, from knuckles curling into each other like hinges of a door of possibility. 

You don’t see the way he swallows hard, or how he nods subtly to himself before he says, “Alright. Let’s talk about it.” 

Those words make you look at him quickly, taken back and not expecting for him to give so easily. If you had noticed him noticing you, it would have been the expected reaction; if you’d seen the way his eyes traced over the pink and orange shadows of your features, you’d know he can’t really say no to you. Not anymore. 

“Yeah?” you only ask for the confirmation because you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He won’t let it. He holds it tightly, just nodding, “Yeah. I… You deserve my honesty.” 

You deserve my honesty. 

I could never hate you. 

“I’m starting to get a bad feeling of deja vu, Eddie. We don’t have to do honesty if you don’t want to-”

“Ask me anything. Right here, right now. I’ll answer with the full truth.” 

You flashback to hours before, when he’d offered his honesty this willingly and you’d only thrown it back in his face. But right now isn’t that moment, the two of you aren’t in the heat of an argument, there isn’t an impending doom on the horizon and the weight of the night no longer rests on either of your shoulders.

You don’t care as much about why he hates you now, or what he meant by never hating you to begin with. You don’t care much about the porn magazines and you don’t care what changed that first night. 

They’re all petty details that have had too long to gather dust. 

You do care about his job, you do care to know why he chose to fix cars. You do care about if he still takes night classes, and if yes, which ones. You care to know his favorite color and you care to know how he takes his coffee in the morning. Maybe you even care to know if he has a favorite coffee shop. 

You care to know all the new petty details you’d never uncovered about him. Miniscule bits and pieces of him you crave to hold in your hands, if only just for tonight- or today, at this point. 

But you need a baseline question. Something that won’t throw him off, but really doesn’t twist around your heart as severely as the others. Something that does neither damage nor nurture to the vines and blooms still occupying your chest. 

You suddenly remember a small detail that had been revealed to you by a third party tonight, “Okay, um, well…” you ponder on phrasing, and Eddie edges ever so closer to you, “At that bar we went to tonight, the bartender – Frank – mentioned how you’d been going there for about six months.” 

Eddie pales, but he nods nonetheless. Maybe the question is more loaded than you’d anticipated. 

“I guess... I…” you continue to stumble over your words and it only leaves Eddie more time to panic, “I’m just curious why you started going? Yeah, yeah. That’s… that’s my question,” you tilt your chin up, try to be seem more confident in your question. 

Even in his panic and sudden blanching, Eddie looks ready to laugh at you as his eyebrows scrunch. Somewhere between the wrinkles, you swear you could find something like affection, “That’s your question? Why did I start going to a bar that’s conveniently close to my apartment?” 

Maybe it is a good baseline question. Maybe he was just nervous from the other possible questions you could have asked about your time spent together at the bar. 

“That’s my question,” you confirm. 

The color isn’t returning to Eddie. His hand shakes when he brings his cigarette to his lips. His breath is evidently shaky on the exhale as the smoke puffs out unevenly. 

It’s not a good baseline question. 

“I…” he won’t meet your gaze, and all your gut can do is twist, twist, twist in anticipation, “I got kicked out of my last bar I was a regular at.” 

“Got kicked out? Why?” 

It’s ripping the bandaid off the wound of honesty, and neither of you even realize it. Neither of you notice the blood of your history catching up to you. 

Eddie sighs and rolls his shoulders before looking at you, “I got into a fight.” 

Your twisted gut stills. A fight? Why is he freaking out so evidently over a fight? Does he think you’ll judge him that harshly? 

“A fight?” you echo your thoughts with a soft laugh into the morning air, “You… Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing? Jesus, did you go to jail that night? That would suck, but… Eddie, I won’t judg-”

“I didn’t go to jail,” he interrupts, “I mean, they should have called the cops on me, but they didn’t. They gave me a second option of leaving immediately, and being banned for life, effective the moment I stepped out of the building that night. I took the ban.” 

“Well,” you relax your shoulders, looking over at the rising sun, “That’s nice of them, I guess, right? I’m sure whatever mean drunk swung their fist at you deserved to get their ass handed to them-”

Eddie interrupts you with a soft utterance of your name, making you look back to his hues of gold instead of the sky’s, “I swung first.” 

Oh. Maybe that’s why he still looks so wrecked with nerves. Maybe he thinks that’s the piece you’ll judge him on – it has to be the reason you can see sweat gathering along his eyebrow, just beneath his bangs. “Then I’m sure whoever it was deserved it? I-”

“He did,” he interrupts one final time. You’re about to finally snap at you, telling him to just let you speak, to just accept that you weren’t going to judge him over some bar brawl, when he drops the final bomb of an answer. Here is the honesty, you both realize at the same time, as his words slice through you, “It was about you. I got banned because of you.” 

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, established relationship, new relationship, discussions of sexually explicit music.

A/N: this is my THIS. IS. MUSIC!!! moment. CupcakKe is my girl and if you can't appreciate a good hoe anthem then we can't be friends. Anyway, writing's been super tough lately and it feels like it's only getting more difficult with each passing day so I just wanted to attempt something fun. Hope you enjoy!

"Whatchu listening to?"

"Oh, just..." you plucked your earbuds out, placing them next to your phone on the kitchen island, your eyes avoiding his. "The Cure, Bowie. same old stuff."

"Right, yeah..."

He didn't believe you. Not this time and not any of the other times before that either.

This was the latest instance of him finding you like this -- hips swaying rhythmically with a kind of confidence that felt different from usual, the kind you fell into when you think no one's looking, your lips mouthing the words to a song he was yet to figure out.

The front door had been left unlocked for him and quietly, he'd let himself in, inching closer while you danced. Your back was to him, a bowl full of brownie mix in one arm that made the room smell sweet with few drops of vanilla, wooden spoon in the other as you stirred it into the rest of the contents -- snacks for your movie date tonight he gathered.

Eddie had hoped to catch a few of the words you were uttering under your breath, even holding his own in an effort to be more quiet as he loomed nearer but it's the faint scent of cigarettes and Irish Spring still clinging to him that gave him away. You'd managed to sense him just in time once you smelled it, a jolt scraping up the length of your spine alerting you.

Your lips pressed together instantly, lengthening into a quick, tight smile as you turned to him and hastily hit pause on your phone. It took some effort to stop his own lips from drooping into a frown when he saw you do it, screen going dark as you press down once on the power button next.

Ouch.

It bothered Eddie that you'd try so hard to hide something like this from him when all he wanted to know was what had made you light up like that, all lively and clearly enjoying yourself. So why all the secrecy? Why shut him out?

The questions he wants to ask are packed tight in the back of his throat but he keeps them from erupting out of his mouth for the time being, accepting the kiss you place on his lips as you greet him properly. His heart thaws at the sincere "missed you", you whisper to him when you pull away, your smile now the kind that reaches your eyes as you hand him the bowl and spoon right after. "Could you mix this up for me? I'll be right back", you explain as you head off in the direction of the bathroom with a little wave.

Oh. This was his chance.

"Yes Chef!", he calls out to you with a convincing smile, placing the items down on the counter, spoon speared into the mix and forgotten as he picks up your phone instead once you're out of sight.

Sure, he does feel a little guilty going through it but you'd been so mysterious about the whole thing, always finding a way to sidestep the question like an arrow aimed in your direction whenever he asked you what you'd been listening to. He just had to know once and for all what was on this damn thing so he could put all his wondering to rest and enjoy the rest of the night with you.

Opening up Spotify, he taps on your last viewed playlist. 'Playlist 1'. Inconspicuous. Too inconspicuous, he thought while narrowing his eyes. Scrolling through, he sees that most of the songs are by one artist, someone he's never heard of before so he decides to hit shuffle, unsure of which track to pick and listen to first.

A beat commences, something quick and jumpy and what sounds like wet slurping? okay, he hadn't expected that. Already off to an interesting start.

His eyebrows rise up slowly past his shaggy bangs when the moaning begins, high pitched and accompanied by more sounds that fall short of what he'd call family friendly.

"Oh honey, what have you been listening to?", he mumbles, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk when the vocals begin.

No quick head in my bed I can't have that I want that long neck not talking giraffe neck Aint no laying down man we bout' to have late fun I'm about to make your balls stick up like space buns

"Holy-"

Want your dick soaked? place it down my throat Tongue tickle your dick but not telling a joke Peddle in this pussy that's how you rock a boat It get live in this pussy, I'm not talking periscope In the sheets I am a bully Give more head than a hoodie Every time you make me cum it looks like vanilla pudding-

"Eddie?"

The sound of his name makes him turn, finding you back in the kitchen with your eyes darting back and forth between your phone in his hand and the slack jawed look on his face.

Pulling an earbud out of his left ear, the song continues to play in his right.

"Baby, why-"

I got three holes for it like a pretzel Tight as a virgin boy don't get nervous(tight)

"Why've you been hiding-"

I save dick by giving it CPR Put my mouth on it like CPR Let's make porn and watch it on VCR

The question fizzles out on his tongue like a dying fuse, unable to hold back the snickering laugh that rolls up out of his chest, doing his best to stifle it and failing even when he presses a palm to the front of his lips.

"Oh god", you realize what he's listening to, stomach somersaulting as you try to snatch your phone back but he's too quick for you. "Nooooo way, sweetheart" he holds it up high out of your reach, a grin so bright it's bordering on blinding on his face.

You struggle like that for a minute, chasing him around the island with one hand desperately yanking at dark leather to pull him closer as he puts some distance between you, the other trying to reach for or even swat your phone out of his hands, too rattled to care about something like a cracked screen right now.

But despite your best efforts, all those years of hauling ass out of beer soaked back yards with pockets full of illicit party favors at the first sound of sirens has made Eddie impossible to pin down, slipping out of your grasp with expert ease.

"I fuck doggy style so much I need to go to the vet? Fuck me, she's a modern day Hemingway!", he barks out another laugh, this time no longer holding back and the sound of it triggers a giggle to work it's way out your own throat. He always did have an infectious laugh.

You give up trying to retrieve your phone then, pressing your face into the front of his shirt as you build up into a laugh too, shoulders shaking, arms lowering.

"So, pretty demure taste in music you've got here", he winds an arm around your waist, pulling you in for an embrace.

You look up to offer him a smile, a little sheepish considering how ungracefully you'd evaded the topic this long, only to be found out like a teen caught with a copy of Penthouse under his pillow.

"Where'd you learn that word, Munson?", you try to deflect long enough for your cheeks to cool down.

"Where'd you learn about the queen of obscene?", he shoots back breezily, tapping his thumb on your phone screen.

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a second. It's not often that Eddie bests you like this but there's something sort of enjoyable about the way he makes you want to squirm a little under his gaze, knowing he's got the upper hand.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you. She can come off a bit...strong, I guess".

His lips pinch together, forcing away a crooked smile. "Really? because-", he looks back to the screen to read off the lyrics. " 'your dick getting more blows than a birthday cake's pretty subtle in my opinion. A real thinker".

You laugh again, delivering a weak punch to his left shoulder. Things were still new with Eddie. He hadn't yet seen this side of you and those whispering new relationship jitters had gotten the best of you, worried he'd think of you differently like shitty ex's past unless you found a way to ease him into your other interests.

But now that he's ripped the band aid off for you, you realize how stupid you'd been -- really damn stupid because this was Eddie Munson. He'd never judge you, least of all when it came to your taste in music of all things and that reminder was everything you needed to shake off those unfounded nerves for good.

So, you happily forget the movie that night, both of you sat atop your island with your legs crossed like something out of Sixteen Candles, eating warm brownies right out of the pan placed between you.

The rest of the night's spent playing CupcakKe's discography for Eddie, both of your cheeks sore from how hard you've been laughing and smiling every time he pretends to be scandalized by a verse one moment and then shamelessly belts out the next once he'd got the lyrics memorized, exaggerated fake moans and all.

You wouldn't be hiding anything from Eddie again, not now when you've found someone with whom you can be yourself around, always.

[queerpumpkinnn]

Trial and Error (Part Two)

1.4k words

Summary: Your boyfriend Eddie has recently learned that you’ve been faking orgasms. He makes it his mission to make sure you don’t have to.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: mentions of insecurity/inability to orgasm, mentions of drug use, smut but it's really mushy and sweet cause they l*ve each other, kinda angst but Eddie kisses it better, crying in the sad way, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, let me know if I missed anything!

Part One - Part Two

While reading, I recommend you listen to dancin' 'round the kitchen in the refridgerator light - a Spotify playlist by me!

~

"You do realize that messing with me keeps me here longer, right?"

"I do know that." Eddie sighed, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch you brush your teeth in the mirror.

This wasn't the first time you slept over at Eddie's, even before you two started dating he used to call you over to smoke when Wayne was on the night shift.

But it was the first time you slept over since having sex with him. Since that night Eddie had made many valiant attempts since then to make you cum, but in the end he usually needed your help. He'd reminded you several times that he was perfectly okay with that. Progress is progress, you supposed.

"Whaddaya thinkin' about?" Eddie's voice snapped your attention back to reality.

You hummed. "Nuffeen," you garbled, spitting out your toothpaste foam.

"Oh, I'm sure not nothing." Eddie mused, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Mm. Well, I guess you'll just have to be left wondering then." You giggled, dodging past him to skip to his room.

"Wha-hey!" Eddie barked out a laugh, chasing after you. He just managed to get hold of your wrist before you launched onto his bed, consequently pulling him with you. His arms caught himself, but not before his torso landed on your back, knocking an 'oomph' and all the air in your lungs out of you.

"Eddie!" You exclaimed, wiggling under him to no avail.

Eddie wrapped his arms around you, effectively trapping you. "Nope. You're stuck. I guess you have to stay with me forever."

"I was gonna do that anyways, idiot, but I can't do that if I get crushed." You retorted. Eddie stilled over you, laughs subsiding into stunned silence.

"You were?" Eddie's voice was devoid of humor.

"Yup." You gasped. Eddie let out a soft oh, getting up off of you and sitting crisscross-applesauce in front of you. You mimicked his seating.

Eddie was smiling now, almost in disbelief. It saddened you, the look in his eyes.

"Forever?"

"Forever and ever, Eddie." You cupped his face, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

Eddie's fingertips ghosted over your wrists, body barely able to focus on any other sensation but your lips on his, so full of love and adoration it made him want to melt.

"I love you," Eddie breathed, kissing back gently.

"I love you too," you smiled, running your hands down to his chest.

"C'mere," Eddie murmured, tugging you onto his lap. As gently as he could, he laid you down on your back, with your legs already hooked around his waist like a koala.

Eddie began peppering kisses over your face, tickling you with his hair and his eyelashes. His fingers grazed over your sides delicately, sending electric sparks licking up and down your body. Your arms reached to circle around his neck, holding him close as his lips pressed sweet loving touches into your skin, warming your bones.

"I love you," Eddie sighed between kisses, "so much," his hands swooped over your hips, "so so much."

Any sweet response you would have given was replaced with a soft gasp as Eddie's mouth traveled lower, crawling down your figure as he went.

By the time his face was level with the ache between your thighs, your shirt had been discarded and he was tugging down your shorts and underwear in one go. Your hand was loosely threaded in his hair, shifting when he looked up at you with a glint in his eyes.

"May I?" Eddie asked, rubbing soothing circles on your thigh. You nodded, head falling back and eyes falling shut at the sensation of his kisses, calming and tantalizing at the same time.

Eddie's lips press a firm, slow kiss to the spot right above your clit, which has your hips rising up into his touch. He hums against the spot, hands pressing on your lower stomach to coax your hips back down onto the mattress.

In a matter of minutes, Eddie is pulling sweet sounds from you, soft breaths turned into small moans that grew louder and more desperate and strained as he continued. He was quite literally making out with your lips, alternating between teasing around your hole with his tongue and sucking your clit, laving his tongue over every bit of skin he could reach.

His keen ears are dutiful in seeing what movements make you get louder, watching when your brows furrow in pleasure, feeling for what makes your leg twitch.

"Yeah? Y'like that?" He hummed, and this time around you knew he wasn't saying it rhetorically, he was subtly searching for feedback.

"Yes, yes Eddie, so much," you sighed. "Need your fingers, please,"

"Yeah? Y'want my fingers honey?" Eddie brought a hand down under his chin, circling your entrance, gathering slick on his hand. You arched into his touch, letting out a sound nearly pornographic when his finger sunk into you, massaging you with a beckoning motion.

A second finger joined the first, sending inexplicable pleasure through your body.

"Good, doing so good baby," Eddie's voice was muffled, but it rang in your ears nonetheless.

But you couldn't help the fear creeping up your neck that the pleasure wasn't building. You tried to push it to the back of your mind but as the minutes passed your theory was confirmed.

You hated that there was a lump forming in your throat. You hated that there were tears pricking in your eyes.

You absolutely despised that the next moan out of you sounded more like a sob than anything.

Eddie seemed to notice, doing a double take in his surprise. He withdrew his fingers from you to let you sit up, coming up to cup your face instead. "Hey, hey, hey. It's okay."

You sunk into his embrace, his hand petting over your hair while you sniffled. It didn't escalate into real crying, but you needed a minute to let the tension in your chest loosen.

"It's okay, honey, it's okay." Eddie hushed, rubbing up and down your back. He rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs when you pulled your face out of the crook of his neck. "Do you want to stop for tonight?"

You shook your head. "I don't know if I can get there tonight, though."

Eddie gave you a soft smile. "That's okay." A stiffness in your shoulders that you didn't know you had relaxed at the simple words. "I still want to make you feel good."

You nodded, and Eddie placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose. "We can stop or do something else whenever you want sweet, just say the word."

You hummed, nodding.

"Good. Lie back for me?" Eddie didn't start crawling down until you did, not wanting to be further away from you than he could help.

His lips were more tender and sweet, if that was even possible, against your clit, fingertip tracing around your fluttering hole.

Eddie's soft praises and hums against your clit as he worked back up to two fingers flooded your brain, sending waves of warmth and pleasure and love over you.

Something about this was calmer, more content than before. You weren't afraid of not being able to orgasm, neither needing to. Just bathing the feeling Eddie was giving you without expectation or needing it to become anything, it just was. Enjoying the pleasure and love for what it was.

Your heart swelled and sighed at the thought. You hummed, watching Eddie contently, threading your hand through his hair again.

Your brows furrowed when a foreign sensation bubbled in your gut, and fire seemed to prick at the surface of your clit.

“Eddie- fuck, ohmygod-” you could barely choke out the words before heat spilled over and washed over you, covering you head to toe in ecstasy that made you cry out in bliss.

Eddie’s lips curled up into an awestruck smirk at your frantic breaths, then returned quickly to his ministrations, coaxing you through your high.

“Eds, fuck, too much-” you tugged his head away once your pleasure subsided to jolts.

“Mmm… tastes too good…” Eddie mumbled fondly, but his licks slowed. His head lay on your thigh, looking up at you with dreamy eyes.

“Feel good?” He smiled. You nodded. Perhaps his smile was contagious, perhaps you were overcome with joy already. It was probably both.

“Good.” Eddie hummed, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“You look pretty proud, Munson.” You mused.

“That I am.” Eddie placed a firm kiss to your knee. “Might’ve just found a new addiction.”

~

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Main Masterlist

.

Part One - Part Two

If your username is in red it means I am unable to tag you @prettypeachsworld @spiderman-stilinski @kelseyms-world @babydollface1165 @spear-bearing-bi-witch @bellasfavoritesweatpants @munsonmecrazy

[gretavangroupie]

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 8)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader, Jake Kiszka, x OC

Word Count: 23.0k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Allusions to Cheating, Lying, Jealousy, Manipulation, Sexual Themes, Crying. Smut: Kissing, Fingering, Oral F!Recieving, Oral M!Receiving, Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

A/N: Thanks so much for waiting for us while we took our little break. We made this one extra long for you as a thank you for your patience.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

HER POV

​​“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” Isla coos. “I have heard all about you.”

She what?

“About me?” you ask, a little taken aback. 

She grins and shrugs, dropping your hand as she eyes you, “Oh you know, just things…Little snippets here and there. You’ve made quite a name for yourself in this little circle of ours.”

You look over to Jake who is looking at you with a pleading expression. He knows he’s been caught. You quickly turn your attention back to Isla and swallow down your nerve, “Any impression I’ve made has been unintentional.”

She lets out a laugh that borders on the edge of fake, “Oh of course it was, love. You strike me as just the type that stumbles into leaving a lasting impression.”

You give her a fake smile, pretending that her subtle jab didn’t affect you, “Maybe so. Really was so nice to meet you, but I have a few things I need to deal with before we leave,” you say, nodding to her and resettling your purse on your shoulder. 

Her fake smile never falters, “Ah, yes. Duty calls I suppose.” She turns to glance at Jake who is standing frozen next to her, refusing to pay her any mind. Her jaw hardens as you walk away, noticing that Jake’s eyes seem to be fixated on you instead of her.

You make your way over to Murph, pulling your suitcase behind you, hoping no one can see the steam pouring from your ears. As you step up next to him, he cuts his conversation with Dean short, turning to look at you. 

“Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?” he asks, looking over your shoulder towards the group you just left. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine,” you lie, taking a deep breath. 

His brow furrows as he studies your face, squeezing your bicep in a reassuring gesture. You can tell that he knows you’re lying, but he knows better than to press for more. 

Thankfully the transport vans arrive outside, and the dizzying situation at hand seems to fade away in the chaos of getting to the airport. You were thankful to be in the crew van, as far away as possible from Jake and Isla. You spent most of the ride combing through your email and catching up on texts you’d ignored the past few days, and before you knew it you had arrived at Departures. 

As you made your way through security you noticed Jake’s eyes on you. You noticed again at the coffee stand. Then again as you tried to read your book at your boarding gate. You refused to look his way, but you could feel his eyes on you. You knew he wanted to talk, but you wanted to hear nothing that he had to say. You wonder why he is so focused on you when Isla is sitting next to him. Shouldn’t he be more concerned with her? You continue to ignore him, pretending to read the words on the pages in front of you, and letting your mind race with thoughts of Murph. Murph who just so happened to be peeking up at you over the edge of his phone. A smile graced your lips for the first time today as you saw him raise his brows, a silent ‘hello’. 

By stroke of luck you found yourself seated in the row with Josh and Ty, both of them offering you the window seat instead of the aisle. A wave of relief washes over you as you chat with Ty, everything about him making you feel at home. You laugh at almost everything he says, and you can see why Josh loves him so much. As you lean forward to grab your phone from your bag you notice Murph sitting across the aisle, his leg crossed over his knee as he scrolls through his phone, looking up just in time to catch you staring. He sends you a playful wink as you sit back and you feel your heart flutter in your chest. 

“So,” Ty says, raising a brow. You know what he wants to talk about, the two of you have been dancing around the subject for the last hour. 

“So…” you continue, pretending to be unaffected. 

He turns to look over his shoulder just slightly, noticing Jake and Isla seated directly behind you. “So, lovely weather we got this morning…”

“Mmhmm…” you hum, tossing your hair over your shoulder. You grab your phone and pull up Ty’s contact, quickly typing into the box. 

You

10:06AM: I feel like this is safer

Ty

10:06AM: It is, I know she is totally listening to every word we are saying

You

10:07AM: I had no idea

Ty

10:07AM: None of us did

10:08AM: Actually, I bet the bitches did

You

10:08AM: The bitches?! I thought we liked them?

Ty

10:09AM: We do, away from her. With her… Nightmare.

10:10AM: They totally planned this. Did you see them snickering when you walked up?

You

10:10AM: Yeah, sort of, I was a little caught off guard and didn’t know who to look at first lol 

You can hear a shrill laugh from behind you, causing your skin to crawl as Ty shoots you an annoyed look. At this point she has thrown every compliment in the book at Jake, and you’ve heard nothing but one word mumbles come from him. 

Ty

10:11AM: Gag me, she is so fake

You

10:12AM: She really doesn’t strike me as Jake’s type.

Ty

10:12AM: She’s not

You

10:13AM: How do you know?

Ty

10:14AM: Honey, I’m dating his twin

You

10:14AM: Fair point lol

“Hey, I have to pee, can I get out?” you ask, finally speaking again. 

“Sure, sure,” Josh says, letting you slide out of the seat and into the aisle, making your way to the lavatory at the back of the plane. 

As you lock yourself into the tiny box you let out a sigh, quickly relieving yourself and washing your hands as you look at your appearance in the tiny bathroom mirror. You fix your hair a bit and straighten your shirt before unlocking the door to make your way back to your seat. However, when you open it, you’re face to face with Jake. 

You meet his eyes, quickly snapping them away. 

“Y/N, please, just two seconds,” he pleads, pulling his hands from his pockets. 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you begrudgingly look at him, watching his face soften as you meet his eyes. 

“I didn’t know. You have to believe me,” he begs, stepping a little closer. 

You shake your head, not believing it for a second, “I don’t know, Jake.”

“Please, I swear,” he adds, his hand coming up to graze your arm. You pull away quickly in rejection, watching his hand fall back to his side. 

“Can we talk later? Please, just give me ten minutes,” he asks. 

You shake your head, “I think you’re going to be occupied later, Jake.”

You push past him and make your way back to your seat, refusing to cave to the voice in your head that is telling you to look over your shoulder. You hate this. You hate that you want to believe him, and you hate that after everything he told you last night, she showed up this morning. 

You slide back into your seat with a huff,  hearing Isla chatting with Mia next to her and rolling your eyes. 

“You good, babe?” Ty asks, turning to look at you. 

You give him a fake smile, “Oh, never better!”

You pull your book from your bag and open it with a sigh. A few minutes later you hear Jake returning to his seat and the grating sound of Isla’s voice as she speaks.

“What took you so long?”

—

JAKE POV

Your lips are pressed tightly together as you settle back into your seat, Isla’s words chipping away at you. 

“What took me so long?” you repeat, clearly annoyed, “There was someone else in there Isla, I had to wait.”

“Why didn’t you just go to the first class bathroom?” she asks, cutting her eyes at you. 

You just shake your head at her knowing you aren’t even going to answer. Sure, you could have gone to the first class bathroom, but you saw your chance and you knew you had to take it. You didn’t know if or when you’d get Y/N alone for two seconds without Isla around. 

Those two seconds, however, proved to be useless. She refused to hear you out and after Isla’s little display in the hotel lobby earlier, you didn’t blame her. It was the perfect storm, really. 

You’d talked last night. You told her everything. The truth. You felt content sliding into your bed last night, hopeful for what the next coming days would bring with Y/N. It was as you grabbed for your phone to check the playlist that you heard the knock on your door. You hoped it was her, desperate to be with you as much as you wanted to be with her, but when you opened the door it was the last person you expected to see. 

It took all of two seconds for your heart to ice over again, just the sight of Isla, causing your body to fill with anxiety and dread. Why was she here? How did she get here?

Her voice was overly sweet as she pushed her way into your room, greeting you with that stupid nickname she tried to force on you. Zero explanation was  offered as you let the door swing closed behind her. She made quick work occupying your space and throwing herself down onto your bed. Your eyes flashed over to your phone on the nightstand, hoping she would pay no mind to it as it sat open on your messages. 

“What–what are you doing here Isla?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“What do you mean?” she asks, sitting up on her elbows.

“What do I mea– Isla! We are on a break!” you answer, raising your voice just a touch. “You are not supposed to be here!”

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah, but did you really think I was going to miss our anniversary?”

“Anniversary of what? We are done Isla, I told you I am done.”

“You always say that,” she scoffs.

“Yeah, because it’s true! What aren’t you getting?” you growl, “Just how long are you planning on being here? I’m working Isla, this isn’t fucking playtime,” you snap. “We are leaving first thing tomorrow to catch a flight to Manchester”

“I don’t see what the big deal is Jakey, I’m just staying in your room. Mia and Lyla helped me figure out all the flights and everything. I have a ticket for tomorrow. I thought you would be happy to see me.”

You rub your hand over your face, doing your very best not to explode, “Isla, no. No. This is not okay. You know this is not okay.”

“You’re overreacting, everything is fine. I’m only gonna be here for like a week. Think about all the trouble we can get into for a week.” she grins, trying her best to tempt you. 

“No. No,  I’m not thinking anything like that. I’m thinking that I was going to bed and you just woke me up. I’m thinking that you shouldn’t be here, and you know it.” you seethe. 

And she did know it. She knew it as you slid back into the bed without another word. She knew it when she woke the next morning to your alarm blaring, and she knew it when you refused to look at her as you packed your suitcase and headed downstairs. Her disgusting display of possessive jealousy in the lobby left you dumbfounded. All you could do was stare at Y/N, praying her mind wasn’t jumping to the worst, though you could tell by the look on her face that it already had. You knew that every single thing you told her last night, every painful truth, was now all a lie in her mind.

So now, as you sit here in the seat behind her on this airplane, with your borderline psychotic ex-girlfriend nit picking your every move, you wonder how you will fix this. Or if there even is a way to fix it, now. 

The flight landed shortly after your mental spiral, and thankfully you were being bussed straight to the venue for a soundcheck. The girls and staff were ushered to the hotel, dropping your belongings off before heading to the venue. You were happy to have a few minutes alone without Isla. You wished you could just send her home. Maybe you would. But could you?

The four of you were in the van on the way to the venue, going over the setlist and a few notes from the night prior, laughing and joking as the city passed through the van windows. That’s when it hit you. 

You snapped your head to Sam and Daniel, cutting your eyes at them in realization. “You know, your fucking girlfriends did this.”

“Huh?” Danny answers, focusing on you. “Mia?”

“Yeah, fucking Mia and Lyla. They conspired to fly Isla out here for an entire fucking week. Got her tickets and shit. Unbelievable.”

“You didn’t know?” Sam asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“Obviously not, Samuel.” you snap. “I don’t fucking want her here. I don’t want her at all! She just does not seem to get that. She is ruining everything.”

The van goes silent, everyone ducking their heads in an effort not to look at you, an awkwardness filling the air in the van as you pull up at the back entrance of the venue. As the four of you make your way inside, you know it is only a matter of time before you see Y/N, rushing through the halls with bags of food and drinks. You want to tell her everything, if you could just explain you think she would understand. But you know how it looks from the outside and you probably wouldn’t want to hear you out either. 

You would talk to her tonight. You had to. 

—

HER POV

Paul

9:06AM: Rider for the day is in your email! Should be an easy store trip! Thanks

You shove your phone back in your pocket as you step out of the security meeting, wondering why Paul couldn’t have just said that face to face five minutes ago. Alas, you know he has three hundred things on his mind, so him thinking of you at all is a feat. You open your email and find today’s rider, reading off the same old same old items as your eyes scan down the page. Flashbacks of yesterday morning keep littering your brain, but you decide to force them back, burying yourself in your work like you always do. 

Isla’s face when she realized who you were… Jake’s expression as he watched the interaction… the feeling of tension so thick you could cut it with a knife as everyone else stood so still you’d think you were statues in a museum. It all felt horrible. It all felt so embarrassing. But, none of it is your fault. You didn’t see this coming.

Though you’d tried to downplay all of the emotion boiling up inside of you for the past couple of days, you set it aside, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before it all comes boiling up, waiting to spit and spatter its way out of you in what would most likely be a very ugly scene. 

You didn’t need to order an Uber for the ride home from the store; the proximity was actually fairly close to the venue, and you were able to sneak around the corner and to the market without the need for security. As you push your cart-wagon back down the sidewalk and begin separating the food items into the outside storage container, your mind drifts to the one thing that feels like reprieve right now– Murph. You think about him catching you looking at him on the plane this morning, and how warm your entire body felt as you watched him wink at you. And the fact that tomorrow you’ll be spending the entire evening with him, watching one of your most favorite bands perform by his side. 

Does it feel wrong to think of things this way? Using Murph as an excuse to not think of Jake and Isla? Sure, maybe a little. But you never devoted yourself to Jake. And he never set things in stone with you. And for him to explain things to your face so honestly for it all to blow up in your face… ugh. And you really believed him, too. Now the taste in your mouth is dirty and sour, and everything feels so disgustingly wrong. Vengeful. Deceitful as you “use” one man to take your mind off another. But also, who the hell cares? You have nothing to lose, and apparently fucking everything to gain. So hanging out with someone who values your company and actually wants to start things off honestly… why not? Murph makes you laugh until your stomach hurts. He makes you feel safe. And being around him feels like a breath of fresh morning air instead of one that hardly fills your lungs.

The rest of the day flies by as you are dying to get a free second to call Ruth, knowing that her matter-of-fact outlook on life will help you to feel less shitty about your decisions. You’d managed to fly under the radar most of the day, only saying necessary words to your co-workers, and having very little run-ins with any of the guys. Thankfully Paul had sent you on a few more errands throughout the afternoon, of which you accepted gracefully if they let your mind think about anything else other than the auburn-haired tramp holding Jake’s hand.

The craft table is set and ready for grazing, and the fridge and coolers are stocked to the brim with everything the band and crew could need, and you finally get a second to breathe as you listen to the crowd outside cheer for the second opener. Just as you’re stuffing a container of Oreos into a mesh sack, you feel the presence of someone joining you in the small room. 

“Hey there mama.”

You perk up, the familiar voice startling you. “Oh, hey Josh. What’s up?” you ask blankly, upset that the time had come that you could no longer avoid any of them. 

“Not much, they’re all getting in their zones in there, not much I can do besides sip on this…” he holds up his paper cup of steaming hot tea, giving you a cordial smile as you pretend to keep your hands busy. “You uh, you okay?” he asks, and you wish he would just… go away.

You huff an exhale, throwing one hand on your hip and the other up to scratch the back of your head. “Uh, no. Not really,” you laugh awkwardly. “But, here we are…”

“Listen Y/N,” he goes on, “I’m really really sorr–”

“Josh, don’t. Please just, don’t. I’m already mortified beyond belief, the last thing I need right now is pity, ok?” Your tone is clipped, but it has a right to be.

He nods as he swallows, tapping his pointer finger against his cup. “I get it. Just uh, just want you to know I’m on your team on this one, I really, we really had no idea they were scheming this up,” he explains, his sincerity heavy. “You know how we all feel about Isla.”

You nod in return, biting your jaw sideways as you feel so displaced in the conversation right now. “Honestly Josh, I feel very much like this is none of my business, anymore, so… if you don’t mind…” you quickly check your watch as you blindly make up some excuse to get him out the door. 

“It is your business, Y/N. He’s just… Please, just don’t throw him away,” Josh begs, and you hear a commotion on your radio.

“That’s not my decision to make, Josh,” you say as you both hear the radio chime with a ten minute warning. Josh hisses through his teeth as he takes one more long sip of his tea, and tosses the cup into the trash.

“See you out there, huh?” he says as he opens the heavy door to the hallway. 

“I’ll have you a fresh tea in a few,” you assure him, casting him an awkward smile. 

As the sound of the crowd roars outside, you know that it is time to get the guys their respective stage drinks prepared, and to go and meet them at the stairs. You get everything ready, leaving Jake’s drink the last piece to your puzzle. You’d completely ignored getting him a drink at all at the last show, one last slap in the face as you made your stance. But tonight, you decide to resume your duties, knowing that if you’re going to do anything right at all, it's going to be your job. 

You slide over to the corner of the green room, squatting down in the floor to fish for the bag you know he’s hidden. Your hands grip on the black canvas material as you drag it out, a strange feeling of weird nostalgia bubbling up in your stomach. You pull up the heavy bag to rest on the arm of the couch before unzipping it slowly, seeing all his normal items inside. All the items that just a few short days ago, you cherished seeing. The little parts of him that felt so real.

Your hand floats past his change of clothes, his sunglasses, his book, straight to the bottom to grasp onto the neck of the bottle of wine you knew you would find. Just as you bring it out of the bag, the green room door flies open, revealing the overwhelmingly loud aura of Isla.

Her eyes cut directly your way, catching you in the last act you’d want anyone to see today. The eye contact is quick as you hear her scoff at seeing you.

“Uh excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” she asks, her tone biting. She makes quick haste of walking directly over to you, ripping the bag from your hands as the bottom of the wine bottle catches on the zipper, knocking it free from your hand with force. The bottle hits the tile floor, breaking the glass and shattering it into a hundred pieces as the wine splashes all over your feet and the couch. 

You gasp hard, catching the bag in mid-air before it hits the floor and soaks everything inside it. “Oh my god, look what the fuck you did!” Isla shouts, her hands covering her mouth. “Why are you rustling around in my boyfriend’s bag?! That’s not yours!” she shouts. 

Oh here we fucking go.

You roll your eyes, keeping surprisingly calm as you place his bag back down on the couch. “Just doing my job, Isla. I get them their stage drinks before every show. He gave me permission to get his wine from his bag. Now look what you’ve done,” you spit, moving over to get a broom and paper towels. The rage is beginning to boil up in your belly as you drag the trash can over to clean up the mess, Isla making no moves whatsoever to try and help. 

Isla crosses her arms as she zips Jake’s bag back up, mumbling under her breath. The only words you catch are “inappropriate’ and ‘ridiculous’. You roll your eyes again as you finish cleaning up the tiny shards of glass, feeling upset that you wasted an entire bottle of what looked to be an expensive vintage. 

As you dry up the remaining liquid from the floor, you realize that Isla hasn’t left, she’s just standing there, watching you clean. ‘Why isn’t she fucking leaving?’ you ask yourself, feeling overwhelmingly out of place. You shake the feeling, deciding to go ahead and finish making the drinks, knowing the time for them to go on stage is drawing closer and closer. You decide to make Jake the same thing you make Danny, realizing that it will have to do. Isla watches you wordlessly as you pop open the drink mixers, perfectly pouring them into his metal chalice cup. 

“Can I help you with something?” you burst, feeling so awkward that you could actually scream. 

She purses her lips as she picks up a cookie from the table, taking a tiny bite to keep her mouth from saying what she really wants to say. You hear the overture music begin to play in the distance, and you know you have to hurry. You stick your finger into Jake’s icy drink, swirling it around a few times before looking at Isla one last time, popping your finger into your mouth and sucking off the tequila with a smile. You pick up all four drinks and head for the door, letting it slam hard behind you. 

You can feel Isla’s presence on your heels as you hurriedly pace down the dark hallway, passing rushing crew members and staff as you hold the drinks steadily in your hands, careful not to spill a drop. You make it just in time as you hand off the Topo Chico, the tea, and the tequila cocktail, saving Jake’s chalice for dead last. Just as his tech helps him place his strap over his head, the room suddenly erupts with loud cheers, the lights beginning to flash wildly. Jake takes the drink from you, glancing into it and quickly realizing it isn’t his wine of the day. He gulps as he makes eye contact with you, looking as though he wants to say a million things, but as his lips part to speak, nothing comes out. Instead, you decide to lean into him, yelling in his ear above the loud noise. 

“Hope this drink doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth. I didn’t have a fucking choice,” you bark, stepping back to glare at him. Again, he’s speechless, but the look on his face is questioning. As you move your eyes to look at the woman standing beside you, she pushes you to the side, forcing you to step sideways as she grabs Jake’s face in both of her hands, his hands both too full to push her away. She catches him off guard, planting a quick and forceful kiss to his lips right there in front of you. You scoff as he backs away, using his body weight to separate himself.

He doesn’t even say anything as he finishes ascending the stairs, placing his drink down as he joins his brothers in their places behind the curtain. What a fucking bitch, you think as you watch her try and block your view of them, unsuccessfully. You watch as he cuts his eyes at her, shaking his head in the most unapproving way. His eyes are slit and his jaw is clenched, his knuckles white as he grips the neck of his guitar. Fuck, he is mad.

With only a few seconds to spare, you watch as Jake rushes back over to his amp, grabbing up his drink and tilting it back, chugging what had to be half of it before cutting his eyes at her again, rushing back over to his place next to Danny. 

Isla crosses her arms as she backs up to stand beside you, a devilish smirk crossing her lips as she never lets her eyes leave him. “What did you make him, anyway?” she asks.

You bite your lips in before you give her a one word answer, “Tequila.”

“Ahaaa,” Isla laughs as she tilts her head back. “I should thank you, then. That means I am definitely in for it tonight, if you know what I mean.” She smiles hard as the curtain drops to the stage floor, but your heart falls ten times harder. If all that Jake and his brothers said is true, then who the fuck does this bitch think she is?

You’re about to let it all fly before you look her way, realizing that she’s already making her way toward Mia and Lyla in the corner, snickering when the three of them finally join up. Their eyes drift quickly to each other and to you, and you feel like you’re in middle school again. Three grown women whispering into each other’s ears as if you’re being bullied on the playground at recess, making themselves look like absolute fools. How could Danny and Sam not realize…? 

Whatever. It’s none of your business anymore, right? You’ve got a job to do, and a really hot date to dream about. 

You dash back to the green room to replenish anything that needs it, and you find that you’re interrupting someone. 

“Oh fuck, Ty, you scared me,” you laugh, clutching your chest as you watch him chew furiously. “What are you doing?”

“Shit,” he laughs through a full mouth. “Sorry, I’m so motherfucking hungry right now… Please don’t tell anyone it was me tearing up this charcuterie board.”

You let out a full belly laugh, Ty’s presence instantly calming you.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks as he swallows. “Why does it smell like straight Chardonnay in here?” Ty doesn’t even let you answer as he grabs a whole box of crackers and pulls your hand to follow him to the couch, but not before locking the door. “There, now we can talk just us again. You look flushed, babe, what’s up?”

You grunt as you pull a few crackers from the box, stuffing them in your mouth. “Ugh. Isla caught me getting Jake’s wine from his bag, she got pissed I guess and she made me drop the bottle on the floor, it shattered,” you say through a full mouth. “So I made him a really fucking strong tequila drink, instead.”

Ty throws his head back and laughs. “Good! That bitch deserves to drink tequila tonight.”

You swallow, giving Ty a sincere look. “Does he, though? I mean, he did tell me the truth… week too fucking late, but…”

“Yeah I mean, I guess, but he could have banished her and sent her on her merry way back to Nash,” Ty says. 

“But he didn’t…” you say softly. 

“But he didn’t.”

“Is his heart too big?” you ask, truly wondering.

Ty shrugs, clearing crackers from his teeth. “I dunno, maybe. No matter what he does, he’s the asshole.” You nod, feeling very conflicted in the matter. “Ugh,” Ty complains, “I tried to fix this and it just got fucking worse..” he smacks himself on the face.

“Shh, Ty, it’s okay,” you say, pulling his head back up. “I–I don’t really care, anymore. Besides, I’m going to see the Keys with Murph tomorrow.”

He perks right up. “MURPH?! Oh my god, how is that going?”

“It’s good, it’s fine… nothing serious, but–”

“But you wanna sleep with him, right? He’s hot, I wouldn’t blame you. Oh my god, have you already?! Y/N–”

“Ty! Ty! Jesus, no, I haven’t, calm down…” you laugh, grabbing his shoulders as it hits you why you love Ty so much. He reminds you so much of Ruth that it hurts.

He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “Listen babe, I’m Team You, and I’m really excited for you… but…”

“That’s exactly what Josh said,” you laugh. 

He scoffs. “I just want a cool sister in law, that’s all okay?”

“Sister in law?! Are you insane Ty?” you crow, pushing his shoulder as you both fall into laughter.  

It calms down for a second while you both listen to the music bellowing through the walls. “So you really like Murph?” he asks, snarling his nose. 

You pause for a second, contemplating an answer that won’t embarrass you too much. “I do… if not for anything ya know, like that, just as someone I can hang out with. He’s nice to me, understands me. He bought me Black Keys tickets, Ty! Like how thoughtful is that? Finally some time just me and him, no chance of running into anyone or having to talk to Jake at all…”

All the happiness falls from Ty’s face. “Black Keys tickets? For like, tomorrow?”

“Yeah, why? He’s taking me on a date…”

“Babes, we’re all going to that show tomorrow,” he says, stretching his lips over his teeth.

Oh fuck.

“Like, everybody?” you ask, hopeful that he will say just him and Josh. 

“Yeah. Like, everybody.”

—

“If you want to dump that ice outside, I will throw these last few drinks into the cooler,” Paul says, motioning towards the table. 

“Yeah, sure,” you answer, knowing it would be minutes until the guys came bounding into the greenroom for their post show drink. You grab the bucket and walk through the bustling hallways, tossing the ice into the bathroom sink to melt. As you make your way back to the green room you find that it is now occupied with the four sweaty men. 

Your eyes immediately catch Jake’s who looks like he is on the tail end of a nasty little spat with Isla. Honestly, you would rather see that than them loving on each other. At least the palpable hostility in the room corroborates the things he told you last night. You wanted to believe him. You really did, but seeing Isla holding his hand this morning really had you second guessing everything. 

“That everything?” Paul asks, snapping your attention away. 

“Oh, um yes. I think so. Should be all set for tomorrow,” you answer with a nod. 

“Good work, Y/N. Enjoy your evening,” he says, patting your shoulder and exiting the room. 

You lean awkwardly on the table as you try to keep to yourself. Josh speaks up, grabbing everyone's attention. 

“What are we thinking? We want to go out tonight?” he asks, looking at each of you. No one jumps at the idea, still very unsure of the dynamic of the group now that Isla had joined. 

“No, Danny and I are gonna go back to the room,” she grins, turning to look at Isla. You immediately realize that the two of them have again conspired to run the show tonight. 

“I could use a drink,” Jake says. 

“Noooo, baby, I’m tired, let’s go back to the room,” Isla interjects, pulling on his arm. Its very obvious to you that she is going to do everything in her power to get him alone and all to herself. 

“I’m in as long as they have Tequila,” Jake adds, clearly ignoring her pleads. 

“Jake no, lets just stay in. I haven’t seen you in weeks,” she whines. 

“Yeah, because I didn’t invite you here, Isla! Do you need me to lay out the definition of a break again?” he says, slinging her arm off of his with a mumbled curse. 

Isla storms out of the room, brushing past you in a huff. You raise your eyebrows as you look at Ty, who is doing his best to stifle down a laugh. 

With everyone's eyes on Jake he shakes his head and rushes out the door after her. Josh is not too far behind him, ready to play referee. 

“Well, that’s my cue to grab the van!” Sam shouts, trying to break the awkward tension. You bite your lips together, trying not to laugh at how awkward everything is. Sam and Lyla quickly exit the green room with Mia and Danny at their side. Just you and Ty remain in the room, both of you busting out in laughter as the door slams shut. 

“Holy shit,” he laughs, gasping for air. “That was good.”

“This is all so awkward, Ty. I can’t do this,” you groan. 

“No, it’s just getting good,” he says, standing up to walk over to you. “You got your stuff? You ready to go?”

You look around the room, spotting Jake’s backpack still laying on the floor and you wonder if you should grab it. Seconds later, Isla is rushing through the door, snatching her purse from the couch and grabbing Jake’s bag from the floor. 

She tosses the black backpack over her shoulder, cutting her eyes at you and Ty, “Oh, and just by the way, I would replace that bottle of wine if I were you. He’s going to be mad when he finds out you broke it.”

You recoil at her audacity, turning to look at Ty who is just as shocked as you are. She storms out the door before you can respond and you shake your head, fully understanding why Jake is desperate to be done with her in the first place. 

—

The ride back to the hotel was pin drop silent. No one daring to utter a single syllable. Jake refused to sit by Isla, instead opting to sit with Ty and Josh, leaving you with Daniel and Mia. You all file out of the van in a hurry, making your way to the elevators and to your respective rooms without another word. You watched as Jake stepped out of the elevator with Isla, turning over his shoulder to meet your eyes for a matter of a second before the doors closed again. 

Your blood was boiling after your encounter with Isla, the rage rippling through your body like a freight train. You knew there was only one way to get it out, so as you stepped into your room you stripped out of your work clothes and threw on some workout clothes, quickly making your way back downstairs to the hotel gym. 

A run would help. A run always helps.

As you step inside you find it empty, but that isn’t a huge shock since it is nearly midnight. You turn the lights on and make your way to the treadmill, putting in your airpods and turning on a metal playlist. Your legs start to move, starting a slow jog. You work your way up to a sprint, letting the music in your ears push you to run faster. 

You run your aggression out, every step causing you to feel lighter and lighter. Just as you hit the down arrow to slow down the track you hear a ding in your ear as Siri alerts you of a new text from Ruth. 

Ruth

12:14AM: Hello? Updates? I can’t sleep

You slow to a walk, deciding there is really no better time to update her on the situation. You decide to send her voice memos instead of calling her, needing to get your rambling out uninterrupted. 

Your heart is pounding with adrenaline as you recount every detail of the last twenty four hours in what has to be ten voice memos. You can feel the sweat dripping down the side of your neck as your body tries to cool itself down.

You hit the record button again, giving one last quip before leaving her to listen, “And one more thing. If that nasty little stuck up bitch says one more thing to me about her boyfriend I think I might kill them both. She is the reason the wine bottle shattered in the first place. I was just doing my damn job. Of course he marched right upstairs with her tonight, didn’t even try to say anything to me the entire night. So much for ‘give me ten minutes’ or whatever the hell he said. Okay, end rant,” you say, hitting the button and watching it deliver. 

You huff as you slow the treadmill to a stop, stepping off and grabbing a towel to wipe your face. As you turn around you pull your Airpods out, and see Jake, leaning against the door with a solemn look on his face. 

“Holy fuck, Jake!” you say, grabbing at your chest. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He holds his hands up, “Sorry, I just got in here. Had the same idea as you, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you seethe, snapping your Airpods into the case. You grab for your bag, trying to make it out of the gym as quickly as possible but of course, he stops you. 

“Y/N, please,” he begs, lifting a hand towards you. 

“Shouldn’t you be upstairs with your girlfriend?” you bark. 

He shakes his head gently, “No, I told her I needed a minute and I wanted to be alone. And stop with the girlfriend thing, I told you she isn’t.”

You recoil back, “Really? Could have fooled me.”

“I heard what you said to Ruth.”

“You what!?” you shout, “You were listening to me?!”

“I mean, the last part, yeah. I didn’t hear everything, but you are right. You should be mad at me. I deserve it,” he says, nodding his head.

Your blood is boiling beneath your skin, “That was private, Jake. You should have stepped out. I thought I was alone.”

“I know, I just– I’m sorry. I just needed to hear you say it. Now I have,” he pauses. “I’d really like it if you’d let me explain everything. I can explain all of it, I swear. 

“It’s self explanatory, Jake. You lied to me. You said all that shit only for her to turn up this morning.”

“But I didn’t lie. Everything was true, Y/N. It was Mia an-and Lyla, they did this. Planned all of it. I had no idea. She just showed up at my door last night after we talked. I had no clue, you have to believe me.”

You do believe him. You don’t want to, but you do. You can see it written all over his face. 

“I– I can’t do this Jake. It’s late, I’m exhausted. This is just…I can’t do the lies and the games. I feel like shit for causing these issues between you two. I don’t want to be a homewrecker, that’s never what I wanted. That’s not who I am.”

“You didn’t homewreck anything, Y/N! It was already wrecked before I ever even met you! You were rebuilding me! I was finally happy for the first time in–fuck. I wish I could show you, even barely explain what you have done for me, but I can’t because everything is just so fucked up now. Please, just know, I don’t want her. Haven’t for a long time,” he shouts. 

“So what then, Jake? What do you want?”

“You know the answer to that. You have to know. I know you know,” he says, his voice softening. The look in his eyes is pleading with you even harder than his words are, and you can feel the sincerity coming off of him in waves. 

Your heart aches at his words. You can feel that he is being genuine but there is still that shred of doubt clouding your mind. Part of you wants to stay, hear him out, let him explain everything. But the other part of you knows there is no use when at the end of the night he will be in bed with her. 

“I’m sorry, Jake, I can’t…”

You brush past him and push through the door, hearing the heavy wood slam behind you. 

—

JAKE POV

Fuck this. Fuck this fuck this fuck this. 

What in the hell are you gonna do now?

There’s no right answer. No matter what decision you make, it’s going to be the wrong one. And it’s going to hurt someone else, whether you want it to or not. 

You pull your hair back and throw it into a bun and grab a towel from the shelf in the corner, cupping it around your neck. You pull your tangled earphones from your pocket, getting aggravated as you try to pull them apart. You know that if Y/N was still around, she’d have them untangled and wrapped neatly for you, waiting in your bag for the next time you want to use them. 

Fuck, you miss her. Her yelling in your face just now was the most you’ve spoken in days, and even though she was mad and disappointed and calling you every name in the book, somewhere deep, deep down, it felt good to be in her presence again. God, you need to get your shit together. 

You step onto the treadmill as you feel the belt pick up speed beneath you, your feet keeping up with the traction of the increasing momentum. Your finger keeps hitting the button, keeps letting it climb and climb until it’s almost maxed out. You need to sprint so fast that your legs give out… you need to hear your heart beating in your ears for another reason other than getting too exhausted on stage. Physical exertion has always been one of your secret kryptonites, pushing your body to the point of no return to get your anger out. And most of the time, it truly worked. 

Anything to keep you from going back to the room and screaming at Isla.

Once you feel like your body simply couldn’t handle another step, you slow the treadmill, cooling down with a brisk walk as you run the towel over your face. Have you seriously fucked everything up? Is anything ever going to get better? Or are you going to be stuck with Isla for the rest of your life?

After a few centering breaths and some self-slaps in the face, you get yourself together and make your way back up to your hotel room, wanting nothing more than to chug a bottle of water, and follow it up with another strong tequila. A hard buzz to get you through the night, then claim exhaustion to avoid talking to Isla any more than necessary. 

As the elevator ascends and your body falls into that tranquil state of peace you get after a good workout, you realize that you’re going to have to share a bed with her. A queen sized bed. Fuck. Me.

Your limp legs carry you to your room and you inhale a sharp breath as you unlock the door, letting yourself into the room. 

“Heyyyy baby…” Isla wails from the bed, stark naked with a bottle of champagne in her hand. “What took you so long?”

You drop your bag to the floor as the image before you stops you in your tracks. “I was working out, Isla,” you answer flatly.

“C’mon, come get in bed…” she slurs, and you can tell she’s already been working on the champagne. “Let’s celebrate our anniversary like we used to.”

You couldn’t feel more disconnected from her, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from her as possible, right now. You even contemplate pulling out the couch bed.

“Mmm, no. I’m getting in the shower, then I’m going to bed. I’m really tired,” you say, grabbing clothes from your bag, and an airplane bottle from the mini bar.

You hear her groan from behind you as her lips pop off the bottle of champagne. “Want me to join you?” she asks, her voice rising a few octaves. 

“NO! No, I won’t be long, just… stay there.” You pull the bathroom door closed and quietly lock the latch, knowing that she is the type to sneak in even after you’d told her not to. Just months ago, you’d have given anything for her to join you in the shower. Hell, join you on tour. But now, the thought of her impeding in your space like this nearly makes you sick.

“Ugh, okay. I’ll be here waiting,” you hear her call through the door.

You tip the tequila back in one quick swallow and shower quickly, rinsing off the sweat of the day and the stench of your guilt, feeling more shitty than you’ve felt in a really, really long time. You want to talk to Josh. You need to hear his level-headed opinion on this matter, and honestly, you need Ty’s, too. Tomorrow, you’ll talk to them. Hopefully. 

You step out of the shower and dry off, thanking yourself for remembering to grab a t-shirt and shorts to avoid having to walk in front of Isla half-clothed.

You flick the bathroom light off and find Isla in the same position she was in, watching some old 80’s crime rerun on TV. You plug your phone in and slide into the bed beside her, being sure to turn your back to her as you fluff the pillow beneath your head. Surprisingly, you aren’t really that tired, but you’ll be damned if you are going to stay awake a minute longer than you need to to endure this night.

You pretend to start to fall asleep, letting your body succumb to the comfort of the bed and puffy sheets. Your limbs relax as the exhaustion actually does set in, letting you know that maybe you aren’t as far from sleep as you think you are. Your eyes begin to play the beginning images of a dream, your body jerking a little as it relaxes. Suddenly, just as you’re about to drift off peacefully, you feel a hand run across your back, up underneath your shirt. 

Ugh, Isla, please stop…

Her hand drifts up to your shoulder, squeezing the muscle and gritting the pad of her thumb up underneath your shoulder blade, massaging your tight back muscles. You’re letting yourself enjoy the sensation, picturing Y/N’s hands all over you just like they used to be, soft but strong in all the right places. It feels good, it feels really good. You have only had the hands of your hired massage therapists on your back for the past few days, so to feel the light touch of someone else’s hand is a welcome change. 

“Shit baby, you’re tense…” Isla mumbles, making you wake up from your half-asleep state, sending all your dreams of Y/N straight down the drain. 

“Isla, please…” you warn with a stern voice.

“Please what, baby? I miss you…” she sings, bringing her body to press up against your back. “Came all the way here to see you, visit you on our anniversary…”

Though your eyes are closed, you roll them, taking in a deep and cleansing breath as you prepare yourself to argue, yet again.

“Isla, today is just another day on my calendar. Can you please drop the anniversary shit? Do you not understand that I can’t do this with you anymore? I don’t want this–”

“So what, you gonna kick me out?” she slurs, and you can hear the drunkenness in her voice now. “Make me get another room? Or you gonna come take care of me the way I know you want to…”

For a split second, you think about it. You really think about it. Through the exhaustion in your bones and the tiredness of your muscles, your male brain contemplates it for a split second. Your dick throbs at the thought of it, no emotion involved, just straight meaningless sex. You could really fucking use it. 

“I know you miss me Jake, I can feel it. See it when you look at me. I know you think about fucking me just as often as I think about it with you… I’m not naive.”

Giving in to her and giving her what she wants is an option that will get her to shut up, but it will also dig the hole you’re already in deeper than you can dig yourself out of, and that’s not a headache that you need right now. 

No matter how good she looks under the covers…

No matter how good her hands felt on your skin, or how badly you could really use a good romp, right now.

Ugh, should you just get it over with? It would probably only take a second, at this point…

“No, please, just go the fuck to sleep,” you stay strong.

You pull your body away from her a bit, scooting further away and out of her reach. You hear her scoff as she rolls to her back, pulling the covers up over her chest. “Ya know, you aren’t the same person anymore, Jake. Remember when I told you you’d fucking changed? Well it’s true. It’s never been more true,” she barks. “You used to have the biggest heart, used to want me more than anything, love me more than anything. Now you’re just a grouchy son of a bitch. I can’t believe anyone can even stand to be around you anymore.”

Her words don’t even hurt you, anymore. They used to cut you like a knife. And though they make you feel like shit, you know they aren’t true. You might be a grouchy son of a bitch, but you know that your brothers and your friends still love you. She’s using anything she can to get under your skin, right now. 

She’s the one who fucking changed. 

“Ok Isla, thanks. Now let me go to sleep,” you beg, letting her words roll right off of your thickened skin. 

Things fall quiet again but for just a second as Isla turns the volume up on the TV just a few notches, just enough to piss you off. 

“Can you turn that back down, please?” you bellow, to which she responds with silence. The TV stays at an unreasonable volume as you try to tune it out, but you fall short. Your gut is boiling up with rage at her inconsideration. 

“Isla! Hello? I’m trying to sleep! Do I need to go stay in Josh’s room or–”

“Damn Jake, chill, it isn’t even that loud…” she complains as she grabs the remote, switching the TV off completely. For some reason, that just pisses you off even more.

“Isla, listen to me. Why did you come here?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose as you sit up in bed. 

“...Because, we’ve always spent this week together, it’s special, I thought you’d be excited to see me after we’ve been on this break…” she squeaks.

“Do you not remember everything I said before I left? Seriously? That I didn’t want any contact from you, I needed to sort shit out, I needed you to find somewhere else to go… why is none of it clicking with you? I’m so confused,” you spurt, the words tripping over themselves. 

“I don’t understand why you aren’t respecting my wishes. I don’t understand why you showed up here unannounced,” you go on. “I don’t understand how I could put things more clearly, that I don’t want this anymore. I’m tired of having this same fucking conversation over and over and it never means anything to you.” You speak like a teacher to his young students, clearly and slowly, now, so that it might help her to understand. But it won’t. She never gets it. 

The room is dark and bleak, only the pale gleam of the street lights poking through the windows and the heat blowing through the vent in the corner fill the empty space between you. “All I want is space, and you can’t even give me that. No matter how far away I run.” The words hurt to choke out as you begin to feel a little sorry for yourself. This shit with her is beginning to wear you down, tearing away at your self-worth even though you act like it isn’t. 

“I thought… I thought you might have just wanted a couple of weeks to think about things, time to miss me, ya know?” she says, obviously completely forgetting about the countless arguments you’d had on the phone since tour began. She’s obviously gaslighting you yet again.

“Mia and Lyla said you seemed distracted lately, just unhappy and not yourself,” she says. 

“See, that’s not true, Isla. If anything, I’ve been happier. More free to do whatever I please,” and you know that is a stone cold fact.

“It just… ugh it feels so fucking wrong and stupid to be home, in your home, cleaning and taking care of things and making sure the bills are paid and that things are working while you’re gone… until I found somewhere else to go, Jake. I don’t have anywhere to go!” she yells, sitting up to face you. “I’ve relied on you for years, and you expect me to just pick up and find somewhere in a week? Be for fucking real. You didn’t even give me time to look for somewhere before you decided to kick me out!”

“That’s not fucking true, Isla! I discussed this with you countless fucking times before I left! But it’s like it went in one ear, and straight out the other! I know what you’re doing, you’re using me. I understand. I get it, I’m doing well for myself and you don’t want to lose that. That’s all this is. That’s all you’ve come to care about! You don’t care about me anymore! Just your fucking status,” your chest is heaving, your heart beating from it as you let it all out again, the same goddamed thing you always say, hoping, praying, that one day it will catch on in her mind. 

“I just wanted to be close to you again,” she pouts, completely ignoring the actual meat of the details of what you’re actually concerned with, dancing around the actual issues yet again. “Plus they said you’d gotten really close with that other girl and I–”

“Oh! Ohhhh, so that’s what this is about? What else did they say, huh?”

Isla pulls the sheets up over her lap as she reclines back onto the bed. “Ugh, nothing,” she tries to blow it off, sending a whole new wave of rage straight through you.  

“No, tell me. I want to know what everyone is saying about MY life behind my back when I told you I wanted privacy.” Your fist pounds against your chest. “Please, enlighten me,” you spit, the venom in your voice like gasoline catching fire. This could be it, this could be when you let your secret be known, and fuck, could it backfire. But you’re so blinded with fury that you don’t really even fucking care at this point. 

“They told me they think you’re sleeping with her, okay?” she yells, and you know things are about to go south, and quickly. 

“Hah,” you breathe. “So that’s the whole reason you came over here, to check up on me after I told you I don’t want to even be with you anymore. That’s fucking disgusting Isla,” you growl, your teeth gritting against each other. “We’re grown fucking adults.”

“So are you?” she challenges, her tone reminding you of a girlfriend you would have had in the ninth grade.

“What?”

“Are you sleeping with her?!” her voice cracks as she yells at you.

You’re so horribly offended you can hardly see straight, and all your extremities feel numb. “That’s none of your business.”

“Yes it fucking is, Jake! I live in your home!” she retorts, her hands flying in the air, now. The voice of your twin reverberates in the back of your mind, and though you’ll never admit it to him, he was absolutely and completely right. It’s all blowing up in your face.

You’re so fucking sick of this. You’re so fucking tired of it all. Your life doesn’t feel like it’s your own anymore, and when you do return home, it will most definitely feel like anything but. It’s time you stand your ground. 

“You know what Isla? Yes, yes we were. You happy?” you say, the words flowing a little more freely than you’d thought they would. But, they also make the hole in your heart a little bigger, seeing as how now, you might truly never get Y/N back. Your voice falls a little with your next admission. “She made me fucking happy.”

Isla inhales through her nose, the realization hitting her as she tries to catch her breath. She doesn’t say anything for a good few seconds as you let her process, and you hear a few tiny sobs leave her chest. “You gotta be fucking kidding me, Jacob…” she breathes, her words no more than a whisper. “So you…you cheated on me…”

What did she fucking expect, really?

You grit your jaw and stiffen your muscles as you hold back. “How is it cheating when I told you I didn’t want to be with you anymore, for months, begged you to leave, told you I was finished. Beyond finished. How is that cheating?” 

Convincing yourself of that has been the hardest part. There is no rule book for this shit. The whole situation is so sticky. So messy, tossed around and disorganized like you’ve never seen before. Nothing is right, nothing is wrong. Your morals are out the window, your decision-making skills are shot. You’re exhausted. You’re mad. You’re heartbroken. 

But she doesn’t answer your question. 

No more conversation is held between the two of you for the rest of the night, and you lie back on your pillow and listen to the sounds of her crying, her chest catching with violent sobs that she tries to hide from you. You can’t see her, but you know what her face must look like. Red and splotched with heavy wet tears, her cheeks flushed and pink as she realizes how real her suspicions were. You can’t stand to hear her crying, it was always your biggest weakness when it came to her, aside from her ability to lure you back into bed, of course.

You feel sorry for her. You can’t help it. The old her is buried down underneath there, somewhere, deep underneath this new persona, underneath the brand new person that you hardly even know anymore. She’s got to still be there, the girl you fell in love with. The honest and sincere and forgiving one. She’s still got to be somewhere in there, right?

Old habits die hard, especially for a person you once held so close to your heart. You hate being the reason she can hardly catch her breath right now. You hate being under the covers with her in the same bed in a foreign country, with nothing but a pillow separating the two of you as her cries fill the quiet of the room. You know it’s wrong, you know it’s the worst thing you could probably do, but your human emotion overtakes your decision making skills, and you place a hand on her arm, feeling her goosebump-covered skin under your touch. 

“‘M sorry, Isla. I really am,” you whisper, squeezing your hand on her just a little. “Can you please stop crying?” 

“My whole life is fucking falling apart, Jake. No, I don’t think I will stop crying,” she says, completely unaware that she is half the reason your lives together started to fall apart in the first place. You know she has got some serious over committal issues, that much is true. But it doesn’t stop the fact that the other half of that life-ruining moment is happening by your hand. The last thing you want is to be the reason someone is unhappy at all. 

Reality sets in as you release your hold on her cold arm, rolling to your back to stare at the popcorned ceiling. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on anything but the sound of her cries, reminding yourself over and over that honesty is the best policy, and you need to be the one who takes care of yourself.

Instead, you think about tomorrow. You’re going to try and make the day tolerable, no matter what it takes. You’re going to see the Black Keys with your brothers, and you’re going to enjoy yourself. 

Maybe Mia and Lyla will take care of their grieving best friend, keeping her far, far away from you. Maybe Josh will notice and intervene. Maybe.

7:00 is going to come early, and you roll to make sure your alarm is set to wake you, knowing that the bus ride to Glasgow is going to be anything but enjoyable.

Sleep will be anything but peaceful tonight.

—

HER POV

Your alarm wakes you far too early, your muscles sore and tired from the overexertion of running last night. You feel refreshed, knowing that you only have to get on the bus this morning then you will be on your way to the concert with Murph.  You still hadn’t decided on what to wear, but you knew it had to be good. Like really good. 

You roll over to grab your phone, seeing that Murph had already texted you this morning but also seeing that sometime in the early morning hours Jake added a song to the playlist. Your mind struggles with which notification to open first, your brain telling you to open Murph’s text, but your heart pulling for you to see what Jake added. 

Against your better judgment you swipe open the playlist notification, watching the songs populate in the playlist. As you scroll to the bottom you let out a sigh seeing his addition of ‘Don’t Wanna Fight’ by Alabama Shakes.

You tap the song, letting the opening notes play through your phone as you swipe out of it and open your texts.  

Murph

6:47AM: Good morning, hope you slept well.

6:48AM: When we get to Glasgow and get settled I’ll send you more concrete details for tonight, just have a few things to secure first. Can’t wait. 😎

You

7:05AM: I can’t wait either, looking forward to it!  🎹

You toss your phone on the nightstand and pull yourself out of bed, quickly dressing and packing up your suitcase to meet everyone in the lobby. To say you’re dreading it is an understatement, and you know that the three hour bus ride into Glasgow is going to be anything but pleasant. 

Thankfully you were able to secure a seat near the back of the bus, leaving Jake, Isla and the rest of the crew towards the front. You can see Murph’s head peeking over the top of the seat, his eyes finding you just as the bus pulls out into traffic. 

You

8:02AM: Cool kids sit at the back of the bus

Murph

8:03AM: Someone has to watch the children

You

8:04AM: I’ll just be back here thinking about tonight, then…

Murph

8:05AM: Hasn’t left my mind all morning  😉

Your heart flutters as you see him turn around and wink at you, your cheek growing red with lust. You spend much of the three hour ride deciding what to wear and how you wanted to do your hair for the show, simultaneously listening to the new Keys album. 

It’s not long before you’re rolling your suitcase over the threshold of your new hotel room, flopping down on the oversized bed with a sigh of relief. The bus ride was uneventful, just as you’d hoped it would be. 

You open the facetime app and tap Ruth’s name, knowing she needs a rundown and that you need her help deciding on an outfit. As the call connects you see her in her bathroom, towel on her head as she does her skincare routine. 

“Hello…” she answers, a mumble as her mouth contorts into an ‘O”.

“Ruth, code red I need you to help me pick an outfit for tonight,” you groan. 

“What’s tonight?” she asks, peeking an eye open to look at you. 

“The Black Keys show with Murph!” you shout, “Do you even listen to my voice memos anymore?!” 

“Yeah, all fifty of them,” she snickers, “What are the options?”

“Well, anything really, but it has to be hot because I’m trying to get laid.”

“Oh, yeah sure, not because Jake and Miss Congeniality are going to be there too, right?” she taunts. 

“No,” you lie. Of course you want to make him jealous. 

“What is Muscles McFly wearing?” she asks.

“Well, if I had to guess, jeans and a t-shirt. Kind of his signature look,” you laugh. 

“Okay, and you’re tryna smash, right?”

“I mean, yeah, hopefully,” you blush. 

“Okay, mini skirt. Boob top. Lip gloss. Never fails.”

“The fuck is a boob top?” you laugh. 

“Something that makes your tits look good, idiot,” she barks. 

“Oh yeah, because I packed so many of those for freezing cold Europe,” you add.

“Well, just do your best, but definitely the skirt. And don’t even say you don’t have one because I slipped mine in your suitcase for this exact purpose.”

“Ruthie…” you groan.

“Thank me tomorrow when you can’t walk,” she smiles, winking at you as she ends the call. 

You laugh and toss your phone onto the bed, opting for a quick nap before you have to get ready for the show. 

—

Murph

4:57PM: Meet you in the lobby in fifteen to pick you up?

You

4:59PM: Pick me up?

Murph

5:01PM: Might have got another truck

You

5:02PM: Of course you did. See you in a few. 😙

You take a look at yourself in the mirror, deciding that yeah, maybe Ruth was right about the boob shirt. You looked good, better than good. You knew Murph was going to love it, and Jake was going to hate every second of seeing you in it with someone that isn’t him. 

You slip on your boots and swipe on your lip gloss, grabbing your bag and making your way downstairs to the lobby. As you step outside the glass doors you see Murph leaning up against the hood of a truck, arms crossed across his chest. His muscles are defined beneath his t-shirt, his hat turned backwards as he eyes you up and down. 

“My, my, well don’t you look gorgeous,” he smiles. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, handsome,” you flirt. You see his smile grow as he pushes off the truck and moves to open the door for you. You can smell his cologne wafting off of him, dark and masculine. It’s intoxicating, and you stop yourself from breathing in too much. 

You jump up into the truck, letting him shut the door behind you. He makes his way around to the other side, getting in next to you and starting the engine. “You ready?”

“More than,” you grin, crossing your legs. 

“Me too,” he smiles, pulling out onto the busy street.

“How do you always manage to get your own vehicles in every place we go?” you laugh, turning to look at him. 

“Some say I’m a magic man,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows. 

“I like the sound of that,” you answer, rubbing your glossed lips together. 

“You smell amazing,” he says, almost as if he’d been dying to say it.

“Yeah?” you ask. 

“Yeah, like, very very fucking good,” he admits. 

“Well, it’s pheromones. It reacts differently on everyone’s skin, and it smells different to everyone who smells it. It’s supposed to help you attract people,” you smile. 

“Not to be too forward, but it’s making me want to fucking devour you,” he confesses through a grin. 

Your chest swells with lust as his words sink in, and in that moment you briefly consider skipping the concert so he can do just that. His phone rings, breaking your conversation. He holds his phone to his ear as he answers. 

“Murph,” he says. 

“Yeah, we are about ten minutes out. Tell them I will meet them at the artist entrance and walk them in the side doors,” he continues. “Sounds good, see you then.”

Your brow furrows as you try to figure out what he could possibly be talking about. He ends the call and turns to look at you with a sneaky look on his face. 

“Who are we meeting?” you ask nervously. 

“Well, as much as I would like to have you to myself tonight, it’s a bit of a family trip. Gotta walk the crew in then I’m all yours once Paul and Dean show up.”

“Oh, yeah, okay. That’s no problem. I mean, it’s your job and all,” you grin, feeling his hand slide over to rest on your bare thigh. 

“You’re sweet, you know?”

You shrug your shoulders and blush, wondering if you’d ever received such a genuine compliment. 

The rest of the car ride is spent listening to music and soaking in the feeling of his warm protective hand on your leg. He pulls into the parking lot and pulls into a space, smiling as he puts the car in park. 

“Oh, that reminds me, there is actually one more thing I forgot to tell you,” he grins. 

“Oh, gosh, what?” you ask nervously. 

He reaches into the backseat and pulls out two lanyards with laminated badges reading Backstage - All Access.

“Ezra,” you gasp. “How–”

“Surprise, baby,” he smiles, placing the black lanyard over your head. He pulls your hair over the strap, letting it fall back over your shoulders. 

“How did you– Please tell me how you managed to get backstage passes?! Like, this is almost impossible, I’ve tried,” you huff into the air as you and Murph jump out of the truck and high-step it into the venue, following behind the hoards of people who are also running late for the show. 

He steps sideways, wrapping his strong arm around your neck as he pulls you into him for just a few seconds as if you’re his kid sister. 

“I think you need to stop asking questions and just trust that I’m the coolest guy you’ve ever met,” he boasts into your ear, kissing the side of your head quickly before releasing your neck and pushing you away again. 

You scoff at him through your teeth, your heart doing backflips at his gesture. “I don’t know about the coolest…maybe the most annoying, though…” you tease, shooting him a wink. 

You both skip every other step as you rush up the concrete stairs to the venue doors, already hearing the loud crashing music of the openers. You’d seen the Black Keys twice before, the last time being almost five years ago, now. But since then they've put out so much more music. Since then you’d fallen so much more in love with them. And since then, you’d met Murph. Who just kissed the side of your head, and is taking you backstage. 

“Am I really annoying?” he asks, letting you step ahead of him to go through the metal detectors at the entrance. His look had turned from playful to genuinely concerned, and you halfway wonder if he actually believed your statement. 

“No! Crazy, you’re not annoying in the least,” you smile, picking your purse back up from the container as he follows you through it. “You’re amazing.”

His eyes are already scanning around, and you can tell that he’s not used to being on this side of these kinds of events. “Fuck, good. Last thing I wanna do is get on your nerves.”

The two of you dash and wind through the crowds, and you know that he’s searching for the guys. He is semi off the clock tonight, but watching out for them has already become ingrained in his mind…more than a job, and more of a duty. 

“Danny said they’d be over this way, come on!” He shouts toward you, and you wonder how on earth, and why on earth they decided to be part of the general admission pit when they share fans with half of the Keys’ fandom. Seems a bit…unsafe, but, whatever.

Murph takes your hand in his as you push through the thickening crowd, sweetly intertwining his fingers with yours. He feels strong and steadfast, people basically stepping aside for him as you trail behind. You watch as he nods quick ‘thank you’s’ to each person that lets you through. Such a gentleman. 

He squeezes your hand every few seconds, silently asking if you’re okay back there. You return the squeeze, his oversized, calloused palms gently scratching against your soft hands. You wonder what they’d feel like touching you in other places…

“Murph! Hey man!” You hear Danny’s voice beckon, and you see his curls sitting on his head, taller than everyone else. Murph turns back to look at you, pulling you to the right a little as he leads you toward the group. 

Your stomach sinks when you see Jake, dressed in all black with his hair pulled back in a low bun, his blue-tinted sunglasses sitting on his nose. His tongue sucks into his cheek as he gives you an up-down, noticing first how your hand is tightly clasped in Murph’s. You can see his chest rise with a sarcastic laugh as he continues to wrap his arm around Isla’s waist, swigging beer from the plastic cup in his other hand. 

Fucking asshole. You know he’s just being touchy to get under your skin.

You stand awkwardly as you watch Danny turn to look at the two of you, giving you a questioning look as he contorts his face up as if to say, ‘Murph, what have you got here, attached to your side?’

Murph reads his expression, leaning in close to whisper in Danny’s ear. Danny responds with a satisfied and agreeing head nod, giving him a quick fist bump as he looks back at Jake, but only for a second. Danny bites the edge of his beer cup between his front two teeth as he turns back to the stage, giving you a quick wink before he wraps his arm around Mia.

Fuck, what did Murph say? 

“Y/N, they’re in like, a roped-off type area. We can stand beside them but I can’t get us over there,” Murph yells into your ear. 

You bite your lips in and give him a pitiful look, standing on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his ear. “…But we have backstage passes, and they don’t. Who are the real winners here?”

As you pull back, you’re met with his hundred-watt smile, sending butterflies all through your stomach. God, he is so…

You both know you’re lying to yourselves, the guys have met them before and probably even had conversations with them. But it was fun to pretend for just a little while that you were the famous ones, ready to flash your badges at whoever asks to see them. 

“You’re so right,” he rolls his eyes, motioning to the guys behind them like they were beneath you. “You wanna watch the show from here, or go watch from the side-stage? My buddy is back there working tonight, said we could come say hi…”

“Oh, so it’s a buddy that got you these passes, huh?” you tease, letting your other hand join in with the other, squeezing into his rough hands. Your eyes drift over to the guys again, and you see Ty motion for you to come and stand with them. But you pretend like you didn’t see him. You pretend that the guy that’s had you secretly crying every night for the past couple weeks wasn’t standing there with his beautiful girlfriend, pulling her into him as they ignored everyone else around them. 

“Let’s go up there,” you make the executive decision, which Murph seems completely alright with. 

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, turning to give one last word to Danny and Sam, and to Dean and Monty before taking off toward the staircase to head backstage. The sky is growing dark with clouds, and you wonder if it is going to rain on you.

You spend much of the show watching from side stage, dancing along to every song and singing at the top of your lungs. You’re pretty sure Murph didn’t realize how big of a fan you were when you didn’t miss a single lyric. A few times you caught him staring at you in awe, taking in the sight of you as you enjoyed every single second of the show. 

He could hardly keep his hands off of you, circling your waist or holding onto your hips as you danced. It felt good. He felt safe. He sang along to the slower songs, his lips only inches from your ear as his deep voice ran shivers up your spine. Your eyes peered out into the crowd, and you saw him. Jake’s eyes locked on you as you were wrapped in Murph’s arms singing the words to ‘She’s Long Gone’. It felt a bit ironic, truthfully, because in a way you were. Or atleast, you wanted to be. 

You let your eyes meet his as you mouth the words, his jaw hardening and his lips growing thin as he sipped from his beer. He was mad, maybe even jealous, probably both. You tried not to pay attention, looking up to see Murph standing behind you. His eyes met yours as he kissed the top of your head, sending a flutter of butterflies into your stomach. 

You look over again to see him on his phone, feeling a buzz in your purse almost immediately. You pull your phone from your purse just enough to read his message. 

Jake

9:16PM: What the fuck are you doing right now Y/N

You make eye contact with him as you shove the phone back into your purse and purposefully spin around in Murph’s arms to face him. He knows exactly what you’re doing. He’s watching your every move instead of his girlfriend right next to him. Let him watch. Let him feel how you felt. 

It’s at that moment the guy next to you stumbles backwards, spilling his entire beer all over you. 

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, “I’m so sorry.” 

Murph immediately grows stiff behind you, “Hey man, watch yourself.”

“My bad dude,” he growls. 

“Yeah, it was your bad. Watch yourself next time,” he snaps. 

You turn to Murph and give him a reassuring nod, “It’s okay, let me just go to the bathroom and clean up real quick,” you say. 

“I’ll go with you,” he answers, a crackle of thunder rumbling in the distance. 

“No, no. You stay here. Don’t lose our spot. I will be right back, promise.”

“Alright, don’t be long or I’ll come looking for you,” he smiles, squeezing your arm. 

You make your way to the bathroom, quickly cleaning off the spilled beer and freshening up your makeup. You can hear them starting the encore, just as you step out into the crowd. You see the man that spilled his beer on you approaching you with a smug look on his face. 

“Hey, sorry about that sweetheart. Let me make it up to you? Can I buy you a drink?” he asks. 

“Um, no. I need to get back to my date, actually,” you answer. 

“That brute?” he asks in his thick accent. 

“Yeah. That brute,” you scoff. 

His hand reaches for you as you walk away, grabbing your arm and pulling you back towards him. You see him go flying across the crowd as Murph pushes him off of you, pulling you behind him in a matter of a second. 

“No one ever teach you not to grab a lady?” he says, spitting venom at the man. “I think you should go.”

“Go where?” she spits. 

“Somewhere,” Murph says, and you can feel the fury pouring off of him. “Would be in your best interest to get far fucking away from me, sir. And as quickly as possible.”

He looks Murph up and down, quickly realizing he is no match for him. Not in this lifetime at least. The man mumbles something in a different language and walks in the other direction, admitting defeat. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry Murph, I didn’t think he would follow me,” you whine. 

“Not your fault, baby. Let’s go, yeah? Encore is almost over.”

“Okay, yeah. Hey, thanks for that,” you say, linking your fingers with his. He immediately softens, the tension releasing from his demeanor.

“Of course, wish I could have been there the first time,” he grins.

“Yeah, me too,” you say, thinking of Jake coming to your rescue, and if you truly meant that. 

“Just gotta find the guys and then we can go,” he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek. Another crack of thunder lights up the sky, and you know it's about to pour.

“I’m with you,” you smile, following happily at his side as the rain finally does start to fall around you.

—

JAKE POV

“You guys all good? Everyone here and accounted for?” Murph asks as he stands just outside of the awning of the back exit of the venue. 

“We’re fine, you can go,” you bark under your breath, earning yourself a slight of Murph’s eyes. Y/N is standing beside him, his soaked leather jacket draped over her head as she watches him do his job. She’s not complaining, she doesn’t seem bothered by the cold, pouring rain at all. She actually looks…

He’s soaking wet, completely unbothered by the rain soaking through his shirt, too. Does this guy feel anything? Ever? Fucking man’s man.

As you slip through the back private door exit into the pouring rain behind them, you can’t help but feel overwhelmingly defeated. Defeated, and also so fucking envious that you know that your eyes are turning green. You can feel Isla’s finger slip through your back belt loop, following behind you as she shields herself from the blowing rain. You make little to no effort to hold her hand, or offer her your jacket, because frankly, you just don’t fucking think to. 

All you can think of is seeing her hand in Murph’s, the genuine smile on her face as he pulled her toward backstage, and the joy in her eyes as he tossed his jacket over her head as they rushed outside. Fuck him. Fuck it. Does he even have any fucking clue that you and her–

No. He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, because if she had told him about you and her, he would not be pursuing her right now. So he’s living blindly. Great.

Your hands are almost visibly shaking as you think about what they’re probably going to do tonight, and the way you left things with her. You still crave her, want to be involved with every little detail of her life, but now… god dammit, everything is ruined. Totally and completely fucking ruined.

Josh swings the door to the van open as you let everyone else climb inside ahead of you. You feel Isla’s finger slip free finally, and you let her climb in before you, hoping that there won’t be any room left for you to sit beside her.

But of course, your luck has run all the way out, and the only seat left in the van is squished in beside Mia, Danny, and her. She pats the seat, giving you her faux- fuck me eyes. “Sit here, baby, plenty of room…”

You audibly groan, contemplating walking for just a second before a loud crack of thunder shakes the air, forcing you inside the van. As it takes off through the puddling rain, you stare out the window in an attempt to ignore Isla’s wandering hand on your knee, getting way too close for comfort. 

It’s as you grip her hand in yours and pull it away that you catch sight of them, Y/N and Murph booking it down the sidewalk toward the parking lot, hand in hand as their faces are lit up with laughter. She’s smiling so big as the rain soaks her clothing, seeming to have no care in the world as they make the tight turn into the lot. Before you lose sight of them, you catch him throwing his arm around her shoulders, kissing the side of her head. It takes everything in you to not punch the window and break every single piece of glass from it, letting it shatter and cut your hands as you yell obscenities through the air. Who the fuck does he think he is?!

You’re sick with rage, the jealousy so overwhelming you swear you might be going insane. You feel your breathing pick up and your jaw tighten, physically ill with the thought of his hands on her. Where your hands belong. You think back to last night in the gym, how she yelled at you, how she seemed so distraught, and so disappointed in how things had worked out. Your heart is deafening in your ears, your fists balled up tightly as you try to talk yourself down.

Has she forgotten all the things you said to her? All the promises you made, all the honesty you’d shown when you let your guard down? Is she really about to waste it all?

Suddenly Isla’s hand on your thigh seems a lot less like an aggravation, and a lot more like the perfect opportunity, presenting itself on a silver platter. 

Suddenly a slew of evil thoughts creep into the back corners of your mind, spiteful and grating as the bitterness takes up shop in your bones like a family of snakes.

Suddenly, resentment is the only emotion you feel.

—

HER POV

Your hand is on Murph’s thigh as he zips in and out of traffic as you leave the venue. Your whole body is buzzing after watching him show his authority to that stupid drunk guy, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said your mind hadn’t already traveled to some dark places in just the few short minutes you’d been in the car. 

“That guy was a fucking idiot, Y/N. I almost fucking throttled him right then and there…” he says through gritted teeth. You squeeze his leg, trying your best to calm him, or even better, get him worked up in another way. 

“It was fine, he was fine…I was handling it, I’m—”

“He spilled his beer all over you, Y/N! That’s not fucking okay! Following you? Grabbing you?” he stopped there, tapping his fingers angrily on the steering wheel. 

“Well, it’s a good thing your friend was the one working their security tonight, right? You don’t always have to take care of everyone all the time, ya know…” you tried to speak quietly. 

“Yes I do, Y/N. I don’t know any other way. Especially when it comes to someone like you…” he goes on, his eyes never leaving the road. He’s hunched forward in his seat, the windshield wipers on full blast as they swipe the raindrops falling heavily on the windshield. 

“Someone like me?” You ask, hoping that he will explain further. Your body is burning with want for him, watching as his hands white-knuckle the wheel, and his left foot taps against the floorboards. The rain is still dripping down his cheeks, the top-half of his t-shirt almost completely soaked, making the material stick to his toned arms just a little too perfectly. 

You shudder under the warmth of his jacket that he threw over you as you ran out the side exit into the downpour, ready to be away from the chaos that had just ensued inside. 

“Yeah, someone like you. Someone I’m determined to keep around,” he says, giving you a quick glance from the side of his eye. 

Your hand squeezes tighter around his thigh, and you feel no shame in moving it just a little higher. “You want me around?” you purr, like you don’t already know how into you he is. 

He takes a deep breath as you near the parking lot of your hotel, his body slowly but surely calming from his adrenaline rush. “Yeah, I want you around. I want you around really fucking bad…” his hand mirrors yours, drifting to wrap almost completely around your leg, choosing a spot much, much higher than the one where your hand rests on his. 

You almost moaned at his touch, his hand warm against the bare, chilled skin of your legs. You suck in a quick breath at his show of what is obviously desperation. 

“Murph…” you breathe, your voice almost choked as you rise from your seat a little more, begging him to move his hand, dig his fingers in, anything…

“What, baby? Tell me what you want…” he growls, his chest heaving a little as one hand steers the car, while the other steers you into oblivion. 

You exhale hard as his grip tightens, the pads of his fingertips adding extra pressure as he slowly ascends higher and higher on your leg. 

The stoplight hanging above you turns red, and you curse it, or thank it, really…for giving you a second. 

“I want…I—” you can hardly form the words, and he is hardly even touching you. 

When you refuse to answer him, he retreats, his hand drifting away now down toward your knee. 

“No, don’t…”

He’s finally able to make eye contact with you as the light stays red. “I said tell me, Y/N. Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll give it to you, whatever you want…” he shakes his head slowly as he talks, promising you his whole world like he doesn’t even know he’s slowly destroying yours. 

“Want you to—to touch me, please, Murph. I—”

Without a word his hand climbs up again, snaking underneath your skirt to cup his palm directly over your cunt. The feeling is enough to pull a quiet whine from your chest, and you grip both armrests with haste as he presses two fingers expertly exactly where you need them. 

“Fuck…” you breathe, his fingers slowly beginning to move. 

The light turns green, and you slowly take off again. “This it? This what you wanted?” he asks.

You nod hard. “Mhm, yeah…” your legs fall apart a little bit on their own, your body pleading for him to have more access to you. Where the fuck is the hotel?!

You hear him breathing heavily as you know he wants nothing more than to touch you better, watch your face as his fingers move across you, already dripping wet for him. 

As his fingers pull your panties to the side with one quick motion, your entire body feels like it’s about to erupt into flames. His fingers finally connect with you, skin on skin, and it’s almost too much. Your arms pick you up from your seat a little as your head hits the headrest, your mouth falling open as his middle finger connects with your clit. 

“Oh my god…” you mutter, a little more loudly than earlier. Your new position allows him to dip his fingers low again, brushing against your opening and dragging your wetness through your folds. Your hand finds his arm, squeezing the muscle as you feel his tendons tighten and loosen as he works his hand expertly beneath your skirt. 

You take a second to glance down, his hand completely hidden by the material of your skirt. The visual is all-encompassing as the lightning flashes another loud rumble of thunder through the air. 

“God I can’t wait to park this fucking car,” Murph grits as he pulls into the private parking garage. It’s generally empty, save for a few cars here and there that look like they haven’t moved in a while. Most of the overhead lights are burnt out, leaving the garage nothing but a winding maze of shadows. 

Murph whips the vehicle into a parking place against the back wall, into an area not illuminated with much light, at all. As soon as he puts it in park, he reaches underneath the seat to pull the lever, sending his chair as far back as it will go. 

“Get the fuck over here,” he demands, holding up the two fingers that were just nearly inside you up, motioning for you to climb over the console. 

You do as he asks, clambering over top of the center console and falling into his lap. One knee on either side of him, you press your entire body weight into him, both of you still soaked and frozen from the rain. 

His hands are immediately gripping the backs of your thighs, jerking you into a position that he’s happy with as you grab his face, pressing your lips hard against his. Both of you are ripping and tearing at each other’s clothes, nails scraping and pulling across the skin of one another as your yearning finally comes to a head. 

Your arms snake from his face to around his neck, your fingers catching the bill of his backwards hat, tearing it off his head and throwing it into the backseat. For the first time, you see his full head of dark, straight hair, a tousled mess, but matching the brown of his eyes perfectly. 

You take his strands between the cracks of your fingers, pulling and twisting it into your grasp as he starts to make noises, now. Your tongues are fighting each other, the sweetness of the taste of him bringing you back to all the other times you’ve kissed him, but none ever this intense. None ever this desperate. 

You take the time to press yourself down against his lap, finally feeling him hard and ready between your legs. He moans into your mouth, his hands now snaked up under your skirt again, his hands fully cupping both your asscheeks. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you so bad, baby…” he says as you break away for a second. “Feel so fuckin’ good…”

“You haven’t even felt me yet, Murph…” you laugh. 

“Don’t need to feel you to know how good you are…how perfect…” he praises through pants of air. You reach behind you, searching with your hand until you find his cock, basically bursting at the seams of his still-damp jeans. You brush your hand across it a little before you squeeze. Just that touch makes him jump, his hands disconnecting from you for just a second as he gathers himself, his head rolling back a little as he grips your face in his hands, returning back to the heated kiss. 

“Unbutton your jeans, Ezra,” you finally demand, unable to take this foreplay any longer. 

He wordlessly obeys your command, lifting you up with one hand while the other does what you want, and unbuckles his belt. You never let up on moving your lips across his neck and behind his ear, needing him to know how badly you want this. You want him. 

You can feel your arousal pooling again as his fingers fidget so closely to where you need them, but finally you hear the sound of his zipper pulling down, and the feeling of his dick springing free. 

You sit back, your back almost hitting the steering wheel as you take a good look at him, hair a mess and face flushed in the darkness, before letting your eyes travel down his torso and land on his cock. 

Your hand gravitates to it, wasting no time in letting yourself feel him, finally. His left hand shoots behind him and wraps around the headrest, while the other one trails along your face, your shoulder, your hip…

Your hand begins to work him, barely enough material in his jeans and boxers to give him enough room to spring all the way free. “Fuck, Y/N…” he breathes, bucking his hips up into your touch. Your eyes flitter to watch his face, his eyelids hooded and his mouth hanging open. 

“I don’t have any protection…” he finally admits, breathing out a dissatisfied sigh. 

“Good thing I don’t care,” you respond, surprising yourself. You know you aren’t ovulating, and you know Murph isn’t the type of man to even let you get this far if you had anything else to worry about. Your mind is spinning too fast and your body is ravaging itself with want too badly to care, anyway. 

You wrap your arms around his neck again, sitting up as you let yourself search for his tip. Your hips swirl around a little until you finally find it, teasing yourself just a little as you let your wetness coat him. 

“Are you sure, baby…” he begs, truly showing his gentlemanly morals, as far in as you already are. 

“Do I have anything to worry about?” you ask, feeling a little annoyed. 

He shakes his head quickly from side to side. “No. I promise.”

“Good then, I’m positive…” you respond, lining up perfectly with him. You slowly begin to sink yourself down on him, letting your body adjust to this new stretch as you do so. “Ffff…” you breathe out as you realize he just keeps filling you and filling you, so deliciously sweet you think you could come undone already. 

The sounds that escape both of you bounce off the windows of the car as the steam already starts to coat them, both of you unable to utter a coherent word at all. You lift off of him again, finding him to be of notable size, before sinking back down and bottoming out again. “Shit, Y/N… my god, baby…” he says as he brushes your damp hair from your face, giving your whole body an up-down. 

“Mhmm…” you agree, pressing your chest back to his as you lean forward, starting to find a little bit of a rhythm. Things are always more difficult in a vehicle, especially in the cramped front seat of one, but you could truly care less that your knee is shoving into the seatbelt and your head is hitting the top of the cab. 

His hands are traveling all over you, warming your skin as they do, and you wish that he could touch you all over and caress the places he can’t reach, all for the sake of warming you up. Your handles, your sides, your breasts… he takes special care to take his time and memorize you, all while the both of you are straining to keep yourselves together. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” you say as your hands dig in to his pecs. 

“All yours baby, take what you want,” he growls, thrusting up into you.

He buries his head in your chest, and you silently thank Ruth for the shirt suggestion. His lips drag warm and wet across your chest, pulling the fabric of your shirt to the side to reveal your chest. He drags his teeth against your sensitive skin, causing goosebumps to rise and your nipples to harden further. 

“Baby, shit…”

“God, Ez, keep going,” you beg breathlessly. 

The sounds filling the cab are lewd and wet and everything you knew this would be. His mouth is velvet against your skin as your fingers grip harder into his hair. You start to roll your hips to meet his thrusts, knowing you aren’t going to last very much longer, especially in this position. 

“Y/N,” he groans, letting his hands rest at the curve of your waist, “I want you, baby,” he pauses, gasping for air as he fights his release, “Want you all the time.”

His hips snap up into you, your eyes watering at the sensation. He feels so fucking good. “I want you,” you whine, tightening and fluttering around his cock.

“I’ll give it to you. You just fucking say it and I’ll give it to you,” he begs, needing desperately to claim you as his own. 

His hand snakes down, his fingers circling rapidly over your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge. 

“Murph, baby, yes! I’m there. I’m coming, fuck,” you cry out, the windows of the car practically dripping with condensation. 

“Yeah, baby, me too, god you’re so fuckin’ sexy. Fuckin’ gorgeous, cum Y/N, let me fill you,” he says, thrusting into you one last time as you both meet your collective release. 

Your name falls from his lips as you gasp his, your hands never leaving his hair as you unravel around him. You feel him warm and full inside of you, his eyes rolled back in his head as he starts to come down. 

“I don’t wanna move,” you smile, pressing your lips to his.

“Don’t have to. More than happy to keep you right here, just like this,” he grins, nipping at your bottom lip. “Though I’d love to take you back to my room to get cleaned up.”

“Yeah? You want more?” you tease. 

“I’ll never get enough of you girl,” he says, a little bit of an accent peeking through. 

“Makes two of us,” you grin, rolling your hips one last time before lifting up off of him.

“I think we have early call time tomorrow, though,” he says, seemingly disappointed.

“We do. Full day, but then we have a week off,” you say, raising your eyebrows suggestively. 

“Hmm, and just what am I gonna do with you for a full week,” he teases. 

“I can think of a few things,” you wink. 

“Come on, trouble. Let me walk you back to your room.”

—

JAKE POV

Pulling back into the hotel, you find yourself still reeling with madness, hoping to god you don’t run into Y/N and Murph in the lobby. It’d be in their best interest to stay far, far away from you right now. 

You feel Josh at your side as you shake your jacket free of the residual rain and beeline toward the elevator, daring someone to even try and talk to you. 

“Jake, baby, I’ll see you upstairs?” Isla asks from across the lobby as Lyla pulls her to the hotel bar. “We’re just having one drink.” You nod at her and wave her off, not really giving a fuck. Your mind is still rushing with those horrible thoughts of revenge, and you tell yourself that it would be the most delicious thing right now, to get a taste of retaliation and forbidden fruit at the same time. It’s fucking dirty and you know it, but it makes the thought all the more alluring. 

“Hey, asshole, do not do what I think you’re gonna do…” you hear Josh in your ear as you step onto the elevator, Ty right behind him. 

“Yeah, Jake, we saw them going to the parking garage too, I know you’re fucking seething with jealousy right now, but do not do this…” Ty agrees as you press the button for your floor repeatedly. 

You cross your arms in front of you, staring up at the ceiling as you ignore them. Your skin is absolutely freezing, but it’s almost as if you can’t even feel it, completely numb physically and emotionally.

“I’m going to do whatever I fucking want,” you say, keeping monotone. 

“Jake, I know you think that this is a good idea right now, but I swear to god if I wake up tomorrow and find out you fucking slept with her–” Josh grits in your ear, and you know he will probably make your life a living hell. But in all actuality, he doesn’t have to know shit. 

The elevator dings for your floor, and you make a quick exit, leaving the two of them without another glance. “Night.”

You make a mad dash to your room, ripping your wet clothes off and changing into a pair of loose black sweatpants, forgoing a shirt. You make your way to the mini bar, grabbing two bottles of tequila and a cup, deciding to dig into the half-melted ice in the bucket from earlier in the day. You crack them open and pour them over the melted ice, drinking down half of it in one swallow.

What the fuck are you even thinking?

Suddenly Isla bursts back into the room, and that one drink at the bar must have ended pretty quickly, as she still had the bar glass full in her hand. “Heyyyyy baby!” she gloats with a hiccup. “I couldn’t wait any more, I wanted to come back up here with you…”

You recline back in your spot on the bed, grabbing your phone to mindlessly scroll as you attempt to ignore her. You’re going to fight this tooth and nail…

She begins dancing around the room, sipping her drink as she does. She’s singing a familiar tune, and it only takes you a few seconds to recognize it as a Keys song from tonight. You pay a little bit more attention, noticing that she isn’t singing any of the words correctly. 

“Isla, get the words right, or don’t sing it at all. You’re insulting them,” you say, cutting your eyes at her.

She scoffs, “Ugh, at least I’m trying, their music just… was never really my cup of tea.”

You nearly choke on your own tongue. “Uh excuse me? They’ve been one of my biggest influences for the past ten years, all I fucking play and you don’t even like their music? Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorrrrrry!” She falls onto the bed belly first, giggling at herself as she bounces. “They’re just kind of boring, I guess.” 

If you weren’t insulted by the wrong lyrics, you’re fucking insulted now. No wonder things aren’t working out between the two of you. You toss back another drink of your liquor, resorting back to your phone to occupy you. Images of Murph and Y/N litter your mind again, and the envy piles back up in your chest, wondering what the hell they are doing right now. How fucking could she? And how the fuck could he?? His job is to come here and work for you, not galavant around with his coworkers… 

Your eyes are caught watching the same video on repeat when Isla stands back up and pulls her shirt over her head, tossing it to her bag in the corner. You can't help but let your eyes drift, watching as she pulls her tight skirt down, revealing her perfectly proportioned body in a matching deep purple lace set. You swallow as you watch her move, running her hands over her body as she adjusts the thong, then as she runs her hands through her long tousled hair. 

Fuck, look away.

She turns, her left hand lightly cupping her breast as she faces you completely, hardly paying you any mind as she lifts her drink to her lips again. She slowly sits on the edge of the bed, running her hand over her legs in an attempt to warm herself up. “That was a really good show though, wasn’t it Jake?” she asks, her eyes flicking to you for just a second as the remnants of her red lipstick stick to the white straw. “I see why you love them so much, and I’m sorry I never paid much attention before. ‘M gonna download a bunch of their songs right now…”

Your nose scrunches up in disbelief. She what?

“Yeah um, they’re excellent. Been around a really long time,” you agree, clearing your throat as you speak. She tilts her drink back a little as she nears the bottom of it, scrolling on her phone as she plays the beginnings of the Keys most popular songs. She stretches her neck as she listens and bobs her head, adding the songs to her playlist as she goes. Your eyes can’t help but wander again, taking in the shape of her back and legs, once all yours for the taking. 

Her lingerie looks familiar, but you don’t want to let your eyes sit too long to figure out why. She stands and flips the lamp by the bed off, placing her empty glass on the nightstand. She lays down beside you, still completely invested in her phone and her music, humming along to the songs as she plays them. 

For a second, things feel like they did a year ago, the two of you in a comfortable silence as you minded your own business, just happy to be in each others’ presence. No arguing, no yelling, just listening to music and being near one another. 

It feels… nice. 

She’s ignoring you altogether now, watching the videos she took tonight as she smiles and laughs at them, sending a few to Mia and Lyla.

Her hair is so long that the ends of it are tickling your arm, sending a little bit of a chill through your body. Your eyes begin to blur from the straight tequila, a familiar warmth coming through your veins. Suddenly memories come flowing back of the last time you saw her in that set, your brain racking with visions of her trying to take it off, but you making her leave it on.

You feel a wave of anxiousness shoot through you as her eyes pop to yours, catching you looking at her. “What are you looking at, Jacob?” she asks flatly. 

“Nothing,” you reply, your eyes shooting back to your phone.

“Doesn’t look like nothing…” she grins, her eyes going back to her phone, too.

Before you can stop the words, they fall freely from your mouth. “Why did you wear that under your dress tonight?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno, it has good memories attached to it. Was hoping you’d take it off of me… You bought it for me for our anniversary last year, remember?”

Ah, that’s why it’s so familiar.

“Oh yeah, I remember,” you reply, and suddenly you remember a lot more from that night. Dinner and drinks had turned into a wild night, both of you passing out on the couch completely nude after not having made it back to the bed, at all. 

“But, that didn’t happen,” she goes on, “I didn’t wanna waste it again, so I’m just wearing it for myself.” Her voice is light and airy, the complete opposite of what it normally is these days. The normal weight that sits above the two of you suddenly feels like a cloud full of sunlight, and you can’t lie, your sex-starved mind is having trouble taking your eyes off of her as her thumb mindlessly runs along the front seam of her thong.

She crosses one of her legs over the other as they’re bent up on the bed, her finger still scrolling through old Keys albums as she listens to her snippets, tapping her foot along in the air as the music plays. What the fuck, Jake? Get it together… Tooth and nail, remember? Tooth. And. Nail.

Just like she can read your mind, her free hand comes up and begins drifting over her skin, tickling herself just like she always does when she starts to get sleepy. You watch as her red fingernails lightly dust over her thighs and stomach, then along the side of her tit as she continues to ignore your existence, all the while you have begun to fight for your life through the lust that’s unabashedly coursing through your body. Ignore it Jake…

But the lust is too strong, and your need for revenge is greater than giving a fuck about the repercussions. Hell, Y/N is probably naked and under Murph right now, what do you have to lose? You remember the look Danny gave you at the show after Murph whispered in his ear, and the text that he sent you shortly thereafter that simply said ‘Yeah, it’s what you think’. She ignored you all day, your text at the show, won’t even give you the time or a second glance… Everything is fucked anyway…

Isla is still relaxed across the bed, slurping at the melted ice in the bottom of her glass without a care. Is she really ignoring you right now? After being so persistent the past few days, what switched?

Her fingers are still drifting, her tits sitting perfectly in the purple lace cups, and your hands begin to remember what they feel like when you squeezed them, that deep-rooted feeling of desire burning hot in your belly and chest. God damnit…

She moans a little yawn as she switches her crossed leg, obviously making a spectacle of her own body, but you swear on your life, she doesn’t seem to be doing it on purpose. She truly looks like she’s just laying and relaxing in her own little world on her phone. This is your old Isla. You hear another laugh fall from her lips as she’s now switched to texting in a group with Mia and Lyla, completely uncaring that you can fully see her screen. The sound is like music to your intoxicated ears, reminding you of all the times you would make her make that sound. When you would make her make even better sounds.

Truly, sex was never your issue. It came so naturally to the two of you that it felt habitual but in a good way, leaving little to discuss because you each knew the other's body so intimately, so perfectly. You feel your dick hardening in your jeans as you try to distract your thoughts, but also, why should you?

Just then, Isla sets her glass back down, turning her body to face you with her hand tucked up under her cheek. “Do you wish these were your hands on me, Jake? I can feel your eyes...”

You swallow harshly as you’re caught. “Maybe,” you growl.

She giggles, leaning in closely as her lips drift across yours. You feel her essence take over your senses, remembering the smell of her like it was yesterday. The intoxicating feeling of her body on yours when you weren’t screaming at each other tumbling back from its place in your memory box. Her hand drifts up to grip in your roots, pulling your face further into her, but not yet making contact. 

You’re breathless as you watch her eyes scan yours, her brow furrowed as she tries to read you. Your chest is tight and your limbs are frozen in place. You feel like you’re unable to think as you decide on your next move. Your body wants to pick her up and bend her over, rip her thong to the side and fuck her into the headboard until she’s screaming your name… but your mind is begging you to stay away. Back out now. Run so far away that you get lost. 

But the devil on your shoulder begins to win the fight as your body betrays you, your head leaning in to finally let your lips make contact with hers. Her grip on your hair tightens as she kisses you back, her tongue already diving deep into your mouth. You bite it, pulling on it with force before switching to holding it with your lips, popping it before you dive right back in. 

Motherfucker she tastes so good, the cold tequila still very much present on her lips. 

The both of you are ravenous once contact is made, your arms wrapping around her to lie her back into the pillows, giving you a bit more control as your hands begin to explore her body. 

Fuck, this is so wrong. This is such a bad goddamned idea. Stop, just stop now, while you’re ahead…

But she tastes like fucking honey. And your dick is throbbing. And she’s so familiar, and gorgeous, and begging for you to fuck her…

She whimpers into your mouth as your hand drifts down to grip her tit, ripping the fabric away as your fingers pinch at her nipple, rolling it between your thumb and pointer finger. The sound alone makes your dick twitch in your pants, and all you can imagine is her hand on you, pulling you free from the confines of your boxers. Your hand moves from her tit to her side, gripping your fingertips into it as you move down to her hip, your mouths still fighting each other for dominance.

You press down on her hip with force, making one of her knees bend up. Your hand brushes across her stomach and down to her cunt, her body already bucking itself up into your touch and you haven’t even given it to her yet. You break away from the kiss, panting and sweating with blind lust as you look into her eyes, deep and dark as she bites her swollen lips together. 

Finally she gives you what you want, her hand reaching between you to brush over your dick, hard as rock under her hand. “Hm, still get hard for me, huh Jacob? I knew you did–”

You silence her quickly with a harsh hand over her mouth blocking any more words from escaping. You pause, giving her a look so menacing you think it might scare her off, but instead, you feel her smile under it. She undoes the button of your jeans with one quick motion, letting her hand dive inside your jeans and boxers, finding your cock with ease. You inhale sharply at the feeling of her grip, your jaw tightening down as you continue to press your hand on her mouth. She pulls your waistband down with her other hand as your dick springs free, bobbing and grazing the inside of her leg.

Her hand travels to tease the tip, lightly tickling over it as your eyes begin to roll back. Her eyebrows raise in question, and you know exactly what she’s thinking, the conniving–

You thrust into her hand, your entire self burning with desire to fill her up, but your hand presses on her mouth harder. Her leg falls to the side even more as your free hand reaches down to grip yourself, running it over the fabric of her thong. Her eyes close quickly as you tease her back, pushing the head of your dick against her opening, already drenched through the lace.

You kiss her again, but only once before breaking away. Your finger hooks in the seam of her thong, pulling it to the side as you use your hand to guide yourself into her, slowly, so fucking painfully slowly…

“You don’t say a mother fucking word about this to anyone, you hear me?” you ask quietly as you hold eye contact, your hand still covering her mouth. “No one knows.”

You stupid idiot motherfucker.

Your hand is still gripped on your shaft as you circle around her entrance, still only allowing yourself a few centimeters of access. “Do you hear me?” you ask, of which she responds with a quick nod. 

“If you want me to fuck you, say yes… but if I hear of you sharing this with even fucking Lyla, I swear to god…”

You pull your hand away from her mouth for long enough to hear her speak. “Yes, Jake, please… I promise, it’s our secret… no one has to know…” she pleads, and you know she could be lying, but you’re already in this far. “Please, baby I need to feel you…” Finally, against every voice screaming at you in the back of your mind, you let your hips press into her all the way, her leg flying out to the side as her head tilts back into the pillows. “Ahhhh, oh my god oh my god baby…” she groans as you bottom out, and you have to admit, she still feels fucking perfect wrapped around you. One of the best you have ever fucking had. 

Your mind is racing with thoughts so fast you can hardly see straight, the liquor definitely doing its job in assisting your lust. You pull out, your dick completely drenched with her wetness, before pushing back in again. You want to take it slow, enjoy every single second of your revenge, but on the other hand you want to get this over with. You know you’ve already made a grave mistake. 

You maneuver yourself to place both hands on either side of her head, hovering over her completely now as her hands latch on to your sides, pulling you further into her. “God baby, harder, please…” she begs. 

You tap her lips with your fingertips. “Shh. Quiet, remember?”

She nods accordingly, biting her lips to keep herself from screaming out. You place both of your knees between her legs as you sit back a little bit, taking in the blurry sight of her. So gorgeous and perfect just like you remember. Just as your eyes hit where the two of your bodies are connected, she reaches down with both hands, pulling her lips apart even further for you. The visual is enough to make you want to cum right then and there, and you groan loudly as you press into her again, a new sensation as her hands make her opening even tighter for you. 

“Jacob, baby, I thought we were being quiet?” she says, biting into your shoulder. 

You breathe a displeased huff as her teeth dig into your muscle, causing you to want to choke out another moan of pleasure. She knows exactly what she’s doing. You pick up with pace for real now, holding on to the back of the headboard as you lift one of her legs to bend to her chest, and wrapping the other one around your waist. You begin pounding into her with a force so dramatic the headboard is beating against the wall, but you could care less. 

She’s still biting her lips, trying her best to hold her sounds in, but then again, you’re having a hard time, too. God, this feels so fucking good. But it doesn’t feel right. Not in the least. Your guilt is starting to sink in as you look down at Isla’s gorgeous face begging to scream your name, all the while imagining Y/N doing the same for you, not that long ago. 

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair. Your body has rejected you, your mind isn’t as strong as you thought. The most devastating mistake you could ever make is happening right now in real time, and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re not going to make it out alive. 

Isla gushes around you as you feel her body tightening, her nails gripping into your sides as she makes her marks on you. She reaches behind your neck, pulling you down to her. You release your grip on the headboard and follow her guidance. “C’mere, baby, want you down here with me where I can see you, where I can feel you. Missed you so bad… wanted us again for so long. Fuck, you feel so goddamn good inside of me, baby…” she whispers, still following your instruction of being quiet. Her words were always the cherry on top of her already top-notch fucking, and you halfway consider flipping her to let her ride you, but you avoid the thought. 

You slow things down as her hand still stays rested between you, the other still pulling at your hair drifting down into your face. You feel her hand move between you, massaging her clit as you begin to roll your hips at a slower pace. “What, I’m not enough for you?” you ask, swiping her hand away and taking over the motion yourself. 

Isla laughs. “No, just wanted you to take that job over for me,” she smirks with a satisfied smile. Fuck, she did it again. You can feel her wetness all over your hand as you continue your languid swipes into her, your thumb working her up even more, now. The sounds that fill the room are wet and smacking, making the high you’re reaching for all the more craveable. She feels fucking perfect. But, you know that she is not. 

Your hand covers her mouth again as her moans become closer and closer together, her eyes closing as her jaw falls open. You know she’s close, but you’re not going to let anyone hear the commotion if they happen to come knocking on your door. 

“Gonna come, Jake… baby–” she says from behind your hand, and you feel her whole body tensing and tightening as her orgasm washes over her, her nails digging roughly into your sides. And the feeling of her coming apart beneath you for what had to be the thousandth time, finally feels like what would be the last. 

Her pathetic sounds make you begin to throb inside her, and you know you’ll be following closely behind in a matter of seconds. You release your hold on her mouth as you steady yourself, your hands gripping hard into the sheets as the white light hits your eyes. 

Jake, no.

At the very last second, you pull away from her, taking yourself in your hand and pumping a few times before you let yourself go, coating her stomach and legs with your release. 

The both of you breathe through the comedowns, sweaty and panting as the reality of what just happened sets in. You hop up to get her a towel, returning to help her wipe herself clean. 

“You could have, you know…” she says with disappointment.

You shake your head as you toss the rag to the floor and lay back down again, still out of breath. “No. I couldn’t have. How would I know if you skipped a pill or something?”

“Jake, I would never–”

“You wouldn’t? Are you sure about that?” you ask, proud of yourself for not making that mistake. 

She stays quiet as she avoids eye contact with you. “You’re probably not even on it anymore, are you?” you ask. She solemnly shakes her head.

“Made me sick.”

You nod, knowing that that wasn’t a conversation that would have been appropriate at all in the past few months. 

“This goes nowhere but in this bedroom, Isla, please promise me. You understand?” you ask. “It was a moment of weakness. This doesn’t change anything about where we stand.”

She sniffles her nose clear. “It changes nothing, huh?”

You swallow, finding the courage to speak on this once and for all. Finding a clear and level head like you’d never found it before. “Nothing.”

And it truly didn’t. You still feel the exact same. Though your bodies mesh so perfectly that it’s a sin in itself to go unacted upon, you know that the toxicity would come creeping back, just like it always does. It’s time to wash your hands clean. 

“Do you still love me, Jake? Even a little bit?”

You shake your head. “No, Isla. It’s gone.”

—

HER POV

You roll over to find yourself in an unfamiliar place, your hair a mess over your eyes as the sunlight beams onto your face. You sit up in a hurry, the memories of last night coming back into your mind one by one. Ezra’s room. You calm a little as you brush the strands from your eyes, huffing a breath of relief as you search around the room for him, but you come up short. 

The bathroom light is off, and you notice that his boots are not by the door. You glance to the clock to find it still fairly early, your call time not for another hour. There, laying on the nightstand by the clock, is a folded piece of white paper with your name written on the front in scribbled pen. You pick it up and unfold it, finding it to be the receipt from the place you’d grabbed a late, greasy dinner with Murph at a place by the hotel last night. He’d insisted that you eat, even though you both were a soaked, freezing, post-sex mess.

Mornin’ sunshine

Couldn’t wake you, you looked too damn pretty

Had a great time with you last night

The boys are gonna have a hard time knockin this smile off my face today

But I won’t tell them why : ) 

The breakfast downstairs ain’t my momma’s, but it’s close

See you later on baby

-Ezra

You swoon at the fact he left you a love note to wake up to, and you fold it back up, tucking it perfectly into your purse that lied on the floor by the bed. Your mood has instantly changed, and you’d almost completely forgotten about the dramatics that Jake decided to add to the evening with his text and song addition last night.

He looked absolutely miserable. You know that his hands on Isla were just to piss you off and attempt to make you jealous, and they did to an extent, but really all it did was make you feel even worse for him. You know that if you hadn’t been standing there with Murph, he would have been enjoying the show with his brothers, one hand stuffed in his pocket and not wrapped around Isla’s waist in a petty attempt to jab at you. 

Poor guy, honestly. Maybe you were too harsh on him in the gym. But damn, if it doesn’t feel like all Jake does is try to explain himself to you. Maybe one last try. One last go around of hearing his side of things…

You pick up your phone seeing a slew of notifications, but what you can’t seem to shake away is the song on repeat in your mind. The one he added to tell you how he feels. He doesn’t want to fight. Hell, you don’t want to fight either. It’s been exhausting. You toss your phone onto the bed as you run your fingers through your hair, deciding that against your better judgment you want to give Jake one more shot, one more chance to clear things up. You’ve got to be an adult about this, your job depends on it. 

You make yourself look presentable, brushing your teeth and throwing on something more appropriate as you snatch a keycard from the dresser. 

You know Isla will be in there with him, but she is going to give you a minute to speak to Jake. You have just as much dog in this fight as she does, given that Jake and everyone else has been telling you the truth about their relationship for all this time. You had somewhat of a relationship with him, too. And if you’re going to continue to work professionally by his side, you’re clearing it up. Now. 

You make a quick pit stop in the downstairs lobby, grabbing not two, but three coffees and a handful of sugar packets. Peace offering. Like adults.

You rush back upstairs and knock a few times on his door, stepping back to gain your confidence to ask him to speak privately in the hall. No emotions, no ties. Just a chance to clear the air, that’s all you really want. 

You hear a commotion behind the door and a high-pitched giggle that you instantly recognize. Suddenly the door swings open, revealing a scantily-clad Isla, her body wrapped up in the bed sheets that are hardly doing enough to cover her barren chest and legs. Oh. A quick glance behind her shows Jake in almost the same attire, sitting anxiously on the edge of the bed as he tries to cover himself. 

Fucking shit.

You watch as his eyes fall shut and his face grimaces, knowing that this is the worst possible way they could have been caught. And that’s exactly what you did. You fucking caught them.

“Oh, hey, we didn’t order room service… Jake already ate plenty last night, but thanks anyway,” Isla smirks a harsh wink at you as she attempts to pull the sheet more tightly around her before slamming the door in your face. 

Tears are already filling your eyes as you set the coffees down on the floor, rushing back off toward the elevator as quickly as you can. That was the last fucking thing you thought you’d see this morning.

Your breath is catching in your throat as you pace, and you hear the faint sound of Jake’s voice yelling after you as you get closer to your destination. You ignore it, but hear it and his footsteps getting closer. Fuck him, fuck all of this. 

Finally you reach the metal doors, pressing the button over and over and over until it finally springs open and you step inside, watching the image of Jake running down the hall toward you, your name falling from his lips as the doors cut him off. You hear his fists bang on the cold metal before it takes off on its descent, leaving your heart to plummet to the ground right along with it. 

.

.

.

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[hyunfilms]

blue side of the sky (lmh) | nineteen.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.3k

—chapter content/warnings: just the very much needed talk for oc x minho, crying, cute lil random flashback at the end

The phone sits on your bed for a good awhile before you contemplate on actually picking it up and texting him. Your talk with Jisung was about a week and a half ago, but you figured you could at least talk to Minho and get things straight without anyone getting in the middle of it.

Even though you missed Minho, you knew you weren't ready and that you still needed time to properly say your peace to all of this.

You would let the universe handle it, allowing you to have Minho in your life however it'd like you to have him— even if that meant at a distance, even if things never returned to normal. You would be sad, but you trust in the universe to take care of you this time around. 

Whatever is meant to be, will be. 

It all still feels terrible.

You grab your phone when you finally gain the strength to call him, nervously letting out a breath when the other line starts to ring. By the third ring, you almost regret calling him. You start to slowly pull the phone away from your ear when you hear Minho hastily pick up the call— music playing in the background.

"Y/N?" He calls for you as he steps around the corner of the studio, hoping the music is a bit softer outside of the room.

"Hi. Sorry, are you in class? I didn't mean to interrupt." 

"No, no." He clears his throat, also experiencing nervousness as he continues to talk to you over the phone. "I was just hanging out with Hyunjin. We were working on a random piece and just messing around with choreo."

"Still. I'm sorry to interrupt."

"You're not. Don't worry. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it will be." You chew on your bottom lip for a moment before speaking up again. "I was just wondering if we could talk."

"Are you sure? I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything, I'll wait until you feel completely ready."

"To be honest, Minho. I don't know if I will ever be completely ready. But, we should talk. Alone. I need to let you know what's been going on my mind, too."

"Okay. I'll be leaving in about 15 minutes. I'll shower and head to your place? Unless you wanna meet somewhere else, but uh—" He clears his throat. "It's kinda cold. I just, I don't know. Whatever makes you comfortable."

"My place is fine."

"Okay." Minho lets out an inaudible sigh, a bit nervous about how the rest of the evening will go. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Sounds good." You respond softly before ending the call. Minho stills in his position for a bit before returning to the studio, his heart beating in his chest— because he is scared, he is nervous. But, nonetheless, he knows whatever is meant to happen, will need to happen. 

This is just another chapter in the book, another learning lesson; another step in becoming better for each other, your friends. Unlearning bad habits, leaving the past where it belongs.

"You good?" Hyunjin furrows his brows at Minho, watching him slowly walk back into the studio. Hyunjin has his hands on his hips, using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. It takes a minute before Minho reaches his gaze and responds with a shrug.

"I don't really know. I will be." 

"Who was that?"

"Y/N. She wants to talk."

"Oh." Hyunjin purses his lips into an 'o' shape before nodding. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know either." Minho lets out a pathetic chuckle. "She said she's not sure when she'll ever be ready to talk more about this but she has stuff she wants to tell me."

"I see."

"I really messed up." Is all Minho says as he walks over to his duffle bag on the ground.

"You did." Hyunjin sighs. "But, you are acknowledging it and trying to learn."

"I just, I don't really know. I had her back and I tried to take the chance to fix it without really... fixing it. If that makes sense."

"It does, and I get it. I honestly might have done the same if I was in your position. Plus, I know Jisung just wanted things to be okay for a bit." Hyunjin comes to stand next to Minho as he grabs his water bottle. "Promise me you'll give her the time she needs this time around."

"I will. At this point, I don't wanna lose her as my bestfriend. Even if that means I need to give her space for awhile—" He shrugs and throws the duffle bag strap over his shoulder. "However long it takes." 

"Mm, yeah." Hyunjin nods. "It'll be okay. Are you gonna go straight to her house?"

"No, I'm gonna head home first. Are you just gonna stay here?" 

"Yeah, I'll probably stay posted here for a bit longer. Still wanna get this choreo down." Minho gives him a tiny, toothless smile before waving goodbye.

"Alright, I'm out." He throws up the peace sign just as he heads out the door and to his car. He tosses his bag into the passenger seat, letting out another breath as he gets situated in the driver's seat. He's dreading this talk even though this has already torn you two apart— but he is determined to fix this the right way;

The right way as in putting it in time's hands.

When Minho gets home, his roommates are all tucked away in their rooms. He slips out of his shoes and tosses his duffle bag to the side of his room, adding to his laundry pile. He grabs a hoodie and some jeans, stepping into the bathroom for a quick shower. He quickly runs the towel through his hair before stepping out and grabbing his keys— heart still racing in his chest as he returns to his car. It's one of those drives where Minho has the music incredibly low because he needs to hear himself think; can't really focus with all these what if's and imaginary scenarios about how the evening will turn out.

Pulling up to your place, he sees Uncle Adrian home, but tucked away in the house somewhere. He can see a the dim light in the kitchen on, with another one of the room lights also on. He parks his car and pulls the hood over his head while walking to your small detached suite, taking a moment before knocking on the door a few times. You're sitting on the couch indulging in a new series when the knocks come— instantly throwing the blanket off of your legs to greet Minho at the door.

"Hey." You quickly eye Minho standing there in his hoodie and jeans, stepping aside to let him in.

"Feels nice and warm in here." He shakes off the cold a bit, plopping onto your couch.

"I'm glad." You chuckle, returning to your position on the couch. "How was the studio?"

"It was okay. Nothing too bad."

"Did you eat?" He shakes his head.

"I'm not really hungry."

"You sure? I have some leftover pasta." You point at your kitchen counter, making Minho smile.

"Promise, I'm good. Thank you." He switches his attention back to the TV. "Watching a new show?"

"Mhm. Finally finished the other one."

"That's new."

"I'm trying here." You respond before subtly biting onto your bottom lip. Great, the silence is settling in and it's awkward.

But luckily for you, Minho is quick to break the silence.

"So, how've you been feeling?" You sigh and turn your body towards him, giving him your full and undivided attention.

"I've been alright. I think I've seen brighter days. What about you?"

"Mm, not sure. But, it's alright. I'm making it through my days." You nod. Silence. More silence filling the room feels a lot louder than it actually is— probably due to all your thoughts and the neverending spiral of overthinking.

"Minho." You call his name and he feels his heart constrict for various reasons. "Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?" 

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I should've, but I was too caught up in us. I brushed things over without thinking about you or Jisung. I-I thought—" He sighs. "I really thought I could fix the past by doing better now, but I know it doesn't work well that way." He looks at you. "I planned to tell you, I just let it slip away from me. Selfishly." You look at him and you aren't sure what your heart is trying to tell you. You're angry, you're upset. You're sad, you're missing a piece of yourself because of all this.

"Do you know where we went wrong?"

"It was nothing you did." He responds lowly. Somehow, this statement triggers the tears that are suddenly streaming down your cheeks, and you can't help but quickly wipe them away. Minho has the hardest time preventing himself from reaching over to console you; but, he stills. He knows he can't, he shouldn't.

"How was it nothing when you upped and left? Clearly, something was wrong. Especially for you, somebody who was my bestfriend and knew me better than myself, to leave when things got rough between us." You tell him softly, though the words sting and they carry weight you are not strong enough to carry.

"It wasn't you. I was stupid. I ran when things got tough, I mistook a small ounce of infatuation and excitement as a way out of it. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how stupid I was being right away."

"Minho, I don't really know what to say. After everything that's happened, I was starting to feel safe with you again. Like there was nothing you could do to hurt me. And I think what hurts the most is knowing that I was terribly wrong. That I, at one point, was an after-thought for you. Because of this small ounce of infatuation and excitement. If it was nothing on me, then you wouldn't have left." You continue to cry and Minho swallows the lump in his throat— his own tears threatening to spill. "If it was nothing on me, then you wouldn't have kept seeing her while I was in the hospital. I know I had no control over that, but you definitely did." You dig your head into your hands and cry.

"Y/N. Please tell me what you need so I can make this better." Minho's voice wavers, his need to pry you away from your hands almost becomes unbearable. The more he watches you, the more he realizes that this must be how things turn out. This is how it all ends, this is what you two have become;

Broken.

And there was no fixing this, no seal strong enough that could keep the cracks together. Because eventually, the seal wears off, it takes another blow, and everything comes apart— breaking to pieces all over again.

When Minho thinks about this, the urge to console you slowly subsides within him. It's not that he doesn't want to, but he realizes he is the cause of all the cracks he can see on you; all the cracks that are threatening to break apart because the seal isn't strong enough, no glue good enough to keep it together. All he does is add onto it, and maybe, he should just keep his distance like he originally did.

He loves you, and maybe this time, love meant he needed to let you go.

"I need time away from you." You finally look up at him again, and the silence that settles between you two is heartbreaking. "I just need to keep my distance because I don't think it's fair I didn't get my own time to process this, to properly get over it. I am grateful you told me and were honest about everything. Eventually, I'd like to move forward and say my peace to it. But for now, that's not the time. I'm not ready to."

He loves you, and maybe this time, love means he will let you go.

"Okay." Is all Minho responds with. But, you continue to cry and Minho isn't sure what he should do. Clearly, you can't let him in again. Clearly, the distance is what you need. 

"I hate this." You manage to mumble as you look at him. "I look at you and I don't want you to leave, I don't want you to just give me an 'okay.' I wish you could hold me and tell me things will get better. But then, I look at you and I also can't believe that you're the same person who managed to do the most damage to me. The one person I wasn't good enough for, the one who I wish never gave up. It makes me confused, angry. Part of me really wishing I didn't have to talk to you or see you."

"I'll do anything to make you comfortable and to keep you happy. I wanna show you that you are my biggest priority and that you are first before anything. Anyone. So, I'll give you time. I'll give you space. No matter how long it takes. Even if time eventually tells me that things are different between us, I'll take it. Because I'd rather have part of you than have none of you." Tears are slowly staining his cheeks at this point, but he continues to look at you; never once breaking contact. "I love you, and I'm gonna be here no matter what. But, I'll give you just that and let you be."

"I hope time can be good for us." 

"I hope so too." He stands, asking for your hand so that he can pull you up and hug you. You follow his actions, tightly wrapping your arms around his waist while letting your cheek rest against his chest. His one arm is wrapped around your back, while the other comes behind your head; his lips kissing the top of your head. He whispers an 'I'm sorry' against the surface before he says: "You don't need to forgive me. You know that. I deserve it. Whatever happens though, I'll always be here. Okay? I'll always be here. I'm not going anywhere." He repeats before placing another kiss on your head. You stay in the position for a few more seconds before pulling away to look up at him.

Looking at Minho makes your heart clench so, so badly. He can't help but return your look with soft eyes, nose slightly reddened from the crying he did earlier— hand coming to brush the hair away from your face before he steps back and starts heading towards the door. You wiggle your fingers and ball them into a fist, preventing yourself from reaching out, stop him from leaving. All you do is slowly and silently follow after him, now surrendering the rest of this chapter with Minho to the universe.

"Call me if you need me. I'll come no matter what." You nod, closing your eyes when he plants a soft kiss against your forehead. He gives you one last, tiny smile before turning on his heels to walk back to his car. You watch as he throws his hood back over his head, shutting the side gate closed behind him.

You nibble on your bottom lip as you find yourself walking into the house, hoping to find Uncle Adrian and be in his company for a bit. When you walk in, the kitchen light is still on and you find your uncle pouring himself a glass of water. 

"Oh, hey." He sees you pop around the corner as the back door shuts. His smile instantly fades when he sees the expression on your face, and the way you hug your arms close to your chest. "What's wrong, Y/N?" You start crying into your hands again and your uncle panics, throwing a blanket over your shoulder before walking you over to the couch. He pulls you into a hug, doing his best to ease the pain you're feeling. "Talk to me." He says.

"I wish things were easier." You mumble through your crying, finally looking up at your uncle again. "I wish things didn't have to be like this between me and Minho." Your uncle's heart breaks because he wishes he could do more for you. And he knows this isn't solely because of the breakup; your heart isn't aching because of your relationship, no.

Your heart is aching because you no longer see the same bestfriend, have the same bestfriend, that you had. You've come to re-learn Minho, how you two used to be even before the relationship— and before you could even have that back, you've already lost it. Your uncle knows that the relationship only makes up one [complicated] part of it.

Your uncle will let you because you need to. He's glad you two were able to talk it out properly, but he's certain it wasn't easy for you to put up those boundaries towards your own bestfriend. It makes him torn because despite the ups and downs of your relationship, Minho was always good to you as your bestfriend. He helped take care of you, he never wanted you to be unhappy, was always making sure that you never felt a lack of support, love or care from him.

He gets it. It's not easy, but hopefully these times, will bring you to better days. To happier times. To more trust, less worries. To brighter, blue skies.

Right now, he will let you be.

Right now, you are mourning everything about Minho. 

☁︎ FLASHBACK | HIGH SCHOOL

You drag yourself up the hill after your walk to the convenience store, suddenly craving for a specific brand of ramen and spicy tuna onigiri amongst other snacks you've grabbed as you pranced around in the aisles. You swing the bag gently back and forth, head hung low as thoughts continue to swirl around in your head at 100mph.

You miss Minho.

You haven't heard from him today since he had been busy with family on the other side of town, and you were starting to wonder if you should text him first instead of waiting. You were torn about it. Should you text him now? Would he think you're too clingy?

Is he thinking of you the same way you are?

Maybe you shouldn't, and maybe you should just let him be until he's free.

You let out a sigh, finally coming up the block to your house with the bag twirling around your fingers. You check your phone still seeing zero texts or calls from him, making your heart drop just a tiny bit. But, before you could let your feelings completely take over, you catch sight of a shadow up ahead. You look up and find Minho standing near the streetlight; making you pause in your tracks to take in how the light perfectly sits on him right now.

You missed him.

"Hey. I was just about to call—" Minho's head whips in your direction, a small smile creeping at the corner of his lips. You jog towards him, immediately throwing your arms around his neck while hugging him and keeping him close. "Woah." He chuckles, reciprocating the hug and wrapping his arms around your waist. "You okay?" He looks down at you, hand gently coming up to brush your hair back, to caress your cheek.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"I just really missed you." You mumble as you press your forehead against his chest. "I didn't hear from you all day and I wanted to text you, but I didn't because—"

"Y/N." He chuckles a bit, his breath visible in the air. "Slow down."

"I wanted to text you but I didn't wanna bother you."

"I'm sorry. I was busy, but I also wanted to surprise you." You look up at him. "I missed you, too." You let out a content sigh and pull away from him, hand still loosely holding onto his

"Did you?"

"I did." He kisses your knuckles. "And I'm here now, right? I'm not going anywhere."

☁︎ END

�� 19.5 [cloudy days]: here

♡ taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hoes4lino @skzddicted @skzho @edgaralienpoe @harui-zen @bestleeknowstan @havenwithleeknow @septicrebel @heesdazed @borahae-reads @yoontaethings @pearbunny @bintificreads @lukeys-giggle @ajxreads @everglowdaisies @allaboutsan @endzii23 @leeknowsramen @heres-your-ramen2000 @morningstardada @mal-lunar-28 @downbadreading @lilysophie @feelikecinderella @urmomma0324 @ddazed-lhs @djeniryuu @melanctton @i8rsie @maru-matt @sleepyleeji @taerifin @nattisbored @jisunglyricist @m111nho @drhsthl @nixtape-foryou @arminseas @guiltycoco @syuuji @sulkygyu @cadihyo @reianagarcia @leeknowyah @smndjdufuehr @dprkbyn @xxibreinaxx @mxnsxngie @reiheis @mellowmentalitydragon @vixensss

[6okuto]

heyy l love ur all your touchstarved hcs and I was wondering if you could write anything for ais? if you’ve done him already could you do leander? thank youu <3

GENERAL AIS HCS

gn!reader | OF COURSEE my babygirl & thank u omg IM GLAD U GUYS LIKE THEM !!🫶 i'll probably make a separate leander post + posts for the others too tbh

you see it in the demo but he's so so happy to see you get along with princess + any other pets 🙁 personally i need a scene where they go to you instead of him and he pretends to be offended.

"after all i've done for you?" he asks before squatting beside you. his eyes flicker over to you before he joins in petting them. "guess i can't blame you, though."

ais teaching them tricks and grinning and saying good job and laughing when they jump on him for a reward. him teaching princess a trick and secretly being very excited to show you because he wants to see your reaction🙁💔

ONE LAST PET NOTE but i need to know what other names he's thought of because he totally looks like he'd give a big scary pet the silliest name ever. peak entertainment for him

if you know any other languages he'd love to learn some phrases!! yes i mean insults for others and nicknames for you. ais loves using them on like,, leander,, who's like What? so he can go "Wouldn't you like to know."

would be very amused if you dyed your hair to match his. calls you a copycat but if you threatened to redye it he'd get more annoying (said lovingly)

does the thing where he leans in really close as if he's gonna kiss you then doesn't. he reaches to grab something behind you and moves away while grinning

he likes listening to you talk about your interests and makes sure to remember important details. casually osmosis's (???) your interests and opinions even if he's never touched it himself

pulling him closer by his clothes or necklaces gets him. Interested.

the pocky game. he takes huge bites and kisses you or gets so incredibly close everyone's just like oh shut up. takes the stick that's a centimeter long between his fingers and goes "i think we got an inch left"

the type of guy who if you wordlessly hugged him would be like "miss me that much?" but have a noticeably firm hold around you because he Is a little worried about why you're hugging him. if you sincerely say yes, his eyes and voice soften when he says "well, good thing i'm here now."

he's confident and totally trusts you but he also finds it incredibly amusing to walk up and kiss you or wrap an arm around your waist if he sees someone try hitting on you. asks "hey, babe, who's this?" while staring right at them. Won't be nice if the person's an ass though

not afraid of pda. you could literally be clinging on to him and he wouldn't mind.

one of the guys who'd carry your silly looking bag without hesitation

you could say "oh try this," about a silly little heart headband and he'd let you put it on as long as he can give You one. "now we match," he says with a grin. take a picture together and set it as his lock screen and he won't change it for ages

looks like a guy who will drape himself on top of you if you're in bed or on the couch. the type of guy who when you say you need to go pee says okay i'll come with you before you shove him

^ likes it when you hold him and just play with his hair or trace things along is back. he plays that game where he tries to guess what you're writing and is ? weirdly good at it ?

if you made a playlist for him he'd listen to it whenever he misses you

also if you have spotify he always checks your profile. you say "i need to know who's liking my playlists" and he's like yeah they must have a crush on you. it's literally him though

sends you shit like this and says you @ me / us / etc because he's annoying and also correct. ais at the peak of the "you want me so bad" jokes would be on top of the world

[butterflydemons]

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miya spends a night out drinking with her friends and goes home with an unknown man. She wakes up the following day and discovers it’s none other than the leader of Stray Kids.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bangchan x biracial!oc ( Miya )

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,105

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw content, drinking, fingering, oral sex ( female receiving ), unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it ), one night stand, pregnancy.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This fanfic is strictly fictional so I don’t wanna hear that so and so wouldn’t do this or that. Also, this is my first time writing a biracial reader. Enjoy!

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @doitforbangchan @linosazuna hope you guys like it!!

Korean is Italicized.

⇢ ɴᴇxᴛ

Chapter I🧸: How It Started

〚 October 3, 2021 〛

IT WAS A Saturday night, people and cars filled the streets. Miya sat in the living room of her apartment, catching up on a K-Drama series. Like every other young adult, she wanted to get out and do something with her friends. As if god read her mind, her phone started ringing. Pausing the show, Miya grabbed her phone and saw the name Caleb🩶 flashing on the screen. A grin appeared on her face as she answered it.

Pain in my ass, how's it going?

Caleb🩶 - First of all, I’m never a pain in the ass.

You are, but I love you nonetheless. What’s up?

Caleb🩶 - Many of us are going to a Korean barbecue restaurant for a buddy of mine's birthday in an hour. Do you want to join?

I’ll be ready.

Caleb🩶 - Karsyn will meet you in front of your place.

Okay, see you later.

The phone call ended, and Miya let out a squeal in excitement. She jumped up and raced to the bathroom for a quick shower. Miya was thrilled that Hyun called and invited her. He was treating his friend to dinner for their birthday and wondered if Miya wanted to join them. It was good that Miya had no classes; seeing as she finished school to get her nursing license, she was all for a fun night. 

   Miya’s outfit was a blue button-up dress that exposed part of the tattoo on her thigh, leaving more to the imagination, paired with all-white sneakers, wanting to keep her look simple. She styled her medium-length dark hair with a clip in a half-up, half-down look. A white handbag and framed glasses brought the look together. After a spritz of perfume, Miya gloated at her appearance and started taking pictures of herself, posting them to her Instagram story. Seconds later, she received an incoming text from her best friend, Karsyn.

Fav Girl😚🏄 - I’m outside, babe.

Omw out. 

   Miya smiled as she picked up her keys and left her apartment. Outside, she saw Karsyn waiting in her car. They’ve been together since high school. Many people didn’t think they would be together this long, but they were mistaken. The two friends locked eyes, and a grin appeared on their faces.

“You look so cute!” Karsyn complimented, squeezing at her best friend's appearance. Miya didn’t consider herself arrogant but confident. “Looking like a five-course meal, baby girl!”

“Oh, stop.” Miya blushed at the nickname, beginning to feel giddy.

   She entered the white Mercedes-Benz C-Class convertible, feeling the soft leather seat on her smooth legs. Miya loved the interior of Karsyn’s car because the interior lights were a different color every time. Tonight, they were pink, and they looked so luxurious.

“I’m serious. You look super cute.” Karsyn beamed, smiling at her friend.

“Thank you.” She replied, returning the gesture.

Karsyn drove away while Miya scrolled through her friend's Spotify playlist. The pair jammed out to the music from the speakers, reveling in each other’s company. They loved one another dearly and considered themselves sisters. No one could break the bond between Miya and her friends. She would protect them with her life.

In a matter of minutes, Karsyn arrives at the gathering’s destination. Of course, before they enter the restaurant, they have to take a few Instagram pictures because it wouldn’t be like them not to capture this moment. Karsyn grasps Miya’s hand, and the two of them walk inside. Immediately, Miya spotted her other best friend, Kaya, sitting at the table, scrolling through her phone. The young woman looks up at the presence of her two friends.

“Finally, you made it,” Kaya announced, catching the entire table's attention. She stood up and hugged Miya.

“Caleb called me late,” Miya replied, smiling at her friend.

“Hey! Hey! I did no such thing.” Hyun-Jung, also known as Caleb, denied, shaking his head.

“Do you want me to pull up the recent call?” Miya asked, arching an eyebrow as she held up her phone. “I can show you exactly what time you called me, Caleb.”

“I’m kidding, Mimi.” He responded, laughing as he drank his beer.

Miya rolled her eyes as she shook her head, not wanting to cuss at her friend in front of everyone in the restaurant. She settled for giving him a glare with a devious grin on her lips. Caleb thought her expression was amusing and adorable as he stood up with his arms open. He laughed as Miya reluctantly wrapped hers around him in a friendly embrace.

“You’re lucky we’re friends.” She sarcastically smiled, pulling away from their hug.

“Anyway, I want to introduce you to some people,” Caleb replied, stretching his hand out to a group of guys sitting at the end of the table.

Miya looked at the guys and was in awe at how beautiful they looked. They looked straight out of the K-Drama she had been watching earlier at home: flawless skin, perfect hair, not an ounce of makeup, a sense of fashion, and, no doubt, killer smiles. There was something familiar about the guys in front of her, but Miya couldn’t put her finger on it.

‘ Oh well, I’ll figure it out later. ‘

Caleb introduced Miya to the group of guys, and they all gave polite bows before she returned the gesture. “Nice to meet you all.” She gave them a smile before her best friend Kaya dragged her to the other side of the table.

She talked and laughed with her friends as the table started ordering Soju and meat to put on the grill, not knowing that a certain someone had his eyes on the whole time.

Chan couldn’t stop glancing at Miya every chance he got. Whenever one of the guys wasn’t talking to him, he would look at the goddess he met, seeing her laugh with her friends at the opposite end of the table. He’d never met someone that appeared like her or spoke the way she did. It was his birthday, and Caleb wanted to treat him to dinner and drinks with his group members. At first, Chan was going to deny seeing as they had an interview tomorrow, but he decided why not since Hyun offered to treat him.

Now Chan is glad he accepted Caleb’s invitation because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have met this gorgeous girl named Miya. Something about her made him want to get to know her more. He wanted to know her favorite food, see her smile daily, and how she sounded beneath him. Chan’s mind was becoming restless, but it fluttered back to her for some reason. No matter how hard Chan tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about Miya’s million-dollar smile.

His heart didn’t flutter until he heard Miya speaking Korean to Ryan. “Yeong hyung, what's the plan after this?”

“It’s up to everyone what they want to do.” Yeong-Sik, known as Ryan, answered, shrugging his shoulders. “I'm down to hit a club.”

“That sounds fun.” Miya’s other friend, Karsyn, chimed in, nodding in agreement.

He could return to his hotel room and get some much-needed sleep, or he could go out with his friends, getting to know the beauty scanning him with her seductive eyes from the opposite end of the table. Chan wanted to do things to her—sinful things—things that would make a holy person have a heart attack. Never had he felt this way towards someone, especially a woman. His eyes glanced at everyone around him but lingered on Miya’s for a few seconds before replying.

“Sure, why not.” Chan nodded, shrugging his shoulders.

Ryan bursts into cheers, raising his glass of Soju before throwing it back and slamming his cup on the wooden table.

Keep screamin’ you want it, girl, you lookin’ lovely when you ride this pony; we can do this ‘til the morning.

The large group entered the nightclub, and Kaya immediately dragged Miya to the bar while the others went to the table Ryan had booked. Club OCTAGON was packed with people from wall to wall, making maneuvering difficult. At the bar, Miya ordered a lemon drop martini, Kaya wanted a screwdriver, and Karsyn got a porn star martini, followed by a round of shots for themselves.

“Here’s to having a fun night and shaking some ass!” Kaya toasted, making the other two females repeat after her. “Here’s to having a fun night and shaking some ass!” Miya downed the shot, grimacing at the bitter taste, and chased it with her martini.

“Let’s go dance!” Karsyn shouted over the music. She grabbed Miya’s hand and pulled her through the sea of bodies to the dance floor.

The trio of friends laughed and danced amongst the crowd, slowly engulfed in the euphoric atmosphere. Miya’s hips moved to the beat of One Of The Girls by The Weekend. Her hands ran over her body sensually, almost in a teasing way. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time. His brown orbs slowly scanned over her luscious figure.

Chan’s hands twitched as he stared at Miya, teasing him with her sensual movements. He wanted to get her alone and run his hands over every curve on her body, hearing her moan beneath him as he fucked her slow and deep. The air around him grew heavy the longer his eyes lingered. Chan saw an opportunity when she said something to her friends and walked to the bar. His feet took him to the crowded space, but he found a space beside her.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re following me,” Miya said, smirking as she looked at him.

Chan stumbled over his words, unable to find the correct response. He went silent for a few seconds before speaking, “N-No, I’m not following you.”

“Are you ordering a drink?” She asked him, grinning at his body language.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Chan responded, scratching the back of his neck. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous.

“About what?” Miya questioned, arching an eyebrow at him.

Chan got a whiff of Miya's perfume and wanted to moan out loud. She smelled of vanilla and peaches. “What’s your name?”

“Miya.” She replied, taking a sip of her second lemon drop martini.

“Do you have a Korean name?” He inquired, leaning against the bar.

“Ae Mae-Ying,” Miya answered, smiling at Chan flirtatiously.

Now that Chan was this close to her, Miya got a good look at him. He looked like he had stepped out of a K-Drama: flawless skin, pretty brown eyes, and full pink lips.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiled, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

“You have an accent. Where are you from?” Miya asked, politely shaking his hand.

“Australia,” Chan answered, letting out a chuckle.

“No way. My friend Karsyn is from there, too.” Miya gasped, staring at Chan in shock. “She was born in Melbourne.”

“It’s a pretty nice place.” Chan nodded, smiling at Miya.

The longer the pair talked, the more Chan wanted to take Miya back to his hotel room and strip her of her dress. He could tell she wanted the same by the hunger in her eyes. As if they read each other’s minds, Chan smirked at Miya as he laced his fingers with hers and took her outside the club. She ordered an Uber, and once it arrived, the two got in, heading to Chan’s hotel room. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other in the backseat.

Chan's left arm wrapped around Miya’s neck while his right hand rested on her thigh, rubbing circles in the skin. Miya giggled as Chan planted kisses on the exposed skin of her neck. She loved neck smooches; they made her very horny and made her throb. He’d whisper how sexy she looked on the dance floor while slowly inching his hand higher on her upper leg. Her breathing gradually became uneven and ragged.

The pair arrived at the hotel and thanked the driver as they climbed out of the backseat. Miya giggled as Chan held her hand and twirled her in a circle. He was enjoying her company and soon her naked body. As they entered the building, the employees behind the check-in counter were the only people there. Other guests were either in their room minding their business or out having a good time.

On the elevator ride to the eighth floor, Chan had Miya against the wall, his face stuffed in her neck, drinking in her scent. He was mesmerizing it in his brain. Her eyes would roll back as he sucked on her pulse point, making her whimper. Chan’s veiny hands slithered around her waist and gripped both cheeks in his palms, pulling her closer to his body. Miya’s arms wrapped around his neck, tilting her head to the side so he could gain more access to skin.

Chan perched her leg on his hip as he slid his left hand up her thigh, going beneath Miya’s dress to grip her ass. She could feel the material of his jeans rub against her clothed clit, and that set her body into overdrive. Her pussy started throbbing, feeling like it had a heartbeat, and it was no doubt leaking into her panties. Miya whimpered as Chan sucked on her pulse point, earning a moan from her. He could listen to her whimpers and moans any day of the week.

When Chan did pull away from Miya’s neck, he stared at her dead in the eyes and smashed his lips to hers. The two engaged in a steamy yet passionate kiss. Their teeth clicked together as each of them moaned. Miya’s tongue swirled around Chan’s, and his cock grew hard at the sensation. He wanted nothing more than to have Miya’s legs pressed to the bed as he pounded her into the following year.

The sound of the elevator dinging brought them out of their blissful world, and they stepped off the machine. Miya giggled as Chan pressed her against the wall, licking along her neck as they walked to his room. When they arrived, Chan used the key card to unlock the door and allowed Miya to enter first. As soon as the door closed, Chan was on Miya, and she was on him. He softly slammed her against the nearest wall.

Chan hoisted the young woman in his arms as her legs wrapped around his torso. Yet again, their lips moved in sync but quickly deepened as he walked over to the bed. Miya’s back hits the soft mattress as Chan continues his assault on her neck. Chan’s lips on Miya made her mind go fuzzy, unable to think straight. He gripped her thigh and pulled it up a bit, lifting her hips enough to feel his pelvis as he kneaded the flesh.

Miya moaned, feeling the roughness of Chan’s pants rub against her covered sensitive clit, giving her the right amount of friction. She squirmed beneath him as the wetness of her panties became uncomfortable. Chan kissed her deeply, briefly pausing to peel Miya out of her dress, leaving her in her black thong. He admired her body, staring at every curve and dip in her skin, running his hands up and down her frame. Hell, he even thought she had such a beautiful body.

Miya had puffy lips as her chest rose and fell, and she tried to catch her breath as the man above her trailed his lips down her body. Starting at Miya’s neck, Chan nibbled down her collarbone to the valley of her breasts, making sure to suck her nipples in his mouth, showing attention to the sensitive buds. She moaned, running her fingers through his hair and pulling his face closer. Chan loved hearing her moan and could listen to them all day. He wanted to keep her beneath the sheets.

Chan continued his assault with his lips trailing his tongue down the young woman’s torso. When he got to her panties, he looked up at her, and she nodded for him to continue. His hands reached up and peeled the black item of clothing down her legs, discarding them behind him. Miya’s heart was beating wildly in her chest, and her stomach burned with arousal. She was beyond horny.

Chan ran his fingers through her fold before he slipped the tip of his middle finger into her. “Such a pretty pussy you have.”

Miya couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. Her back arched as Chan thrust his finger inside of her knuckle, deep exploring her soft walls.

“Mmm fuck.” She moaned, closing her eyes in pleasure.

Chan’s lips hovered over Miya’s as he slowly worked in and out of her. She kept arching and writhing as he continued his ministrations, mouth wide open as she let out silent moans.

“I can feel you tightening already.” Once Chan added a second finger, Miya couldn't contain herself. Her moans spilled out of her like a pornstar. Even when he kissed her, nothing stopped the volume she was outputting. “Good job, baby.”

Chan could feel her walls clamp down on his fingers. “C-Chan…please…” Miya could contain the moans that escaped her mouth as they bounced off the hotel room's walls.

“Please, what?” Chan smirked at Miya, watching her come undone. “I can’t hear you.”

His fingers moved faster in and out of her tight wet cunt loving the sounds she made. He smiled as he heard her beg and plead, and he stopped. Miya felt hurt, distracted even. Chan gazed at her lustfully before taking her by surprise by latching his mouth on her clit. Miya bites back her moans, and that makes Chan mad.

Something came over him, and he swatted her ass cheek, making her mewl. Chan groaned at the taste of her juices as they ran down his chin. Miya gasped, gripping the back of his head and pushing him deeper into her sopping pussy.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good.” Miya moaned at the huskiness of Chan’s voice. The vibrations of his tone shot right to her pulsing cunt.

“Don’t stop, please.” Miya moaned, feeling Chan run his fingers over sensitive clit. “I’m so close.”

How can Chan say no to her? He grabbed the back of Miya’s knees, pushed her legs to the bed, and began to devour her. His tongue ran through her soaking cunt before sticking it inside of her. Miya’s thighs started shaking, feeling her first orgasm of the night approaching. And it was coming fast.

There was a burning feeling in Miya's lower stomach, and her walls clenched. She was a spluttering mess saying Chan’s name in a chanting moan. As her orgasm hit her hard, Miya closed her thighs around Chan’s head as the aftershocks flowed through her body. Chan laughed, removing Miya’s legs, and trailed kisses up her chest, nibbling the skin on her neck before smashing his lips to hers. She moans, tasting herself in his mouth.

Chan was hard beyond words. He didn’t need Miya to suck his cock but would’ve loved to feel it; he just wanted to be inside of her. As Chan shed his pants and boxers, Miya gawked at him, impressed with the sheer size of his appendage. Miya knew that she should tell him to grab a condom, but with the alcohol running through their veins, she couldn’t stop herself from crying out as he sank into her.

Miya threw her head back, arching into Chan as she pulsated wildly around him. “So fucking tight…” Chan hissed as his pace sped up to the point he was jackhammering into her. His lips found their way back to her neck, and kept mumbling about how Miya felt around him. She felt so tight, so warm, just right. His teeth nipped her ear lobe, desperate to grab onto something. “Is this good, baby? Need it harder, faster?”

When Miya didn’t respond, Chan slowed down, making her whine. Chan never wanted to pull out. He yearned to keep himself nice and snug in her warmth. He was stretching her out oh so sweetly.

“Faster, please,” Miya begged, rolling her eyes to the back of her head. She lay on the bed, eyes glazed over with lust, and her cheek flushed.

Chan couldn’t get over the way she looked beneath him. She was so sexy, so good, and willing to take whatever he could dish out. He bit his lip at Miya’s fucked out appearance and glanced down, seeing the white ring at the base of his cock. His thumb rubbed her sensitive clit making the woman beneath him mewl out loud.

“Oh, you’re so sensitive, baby,” Chan grunted, leaving a hickey on her neck.

“Ahhh…wait…” Miya squirmed, and her hand went to grab his wrist. Chan noticed how she didn’t pull his hand away despite her pleas. “Chan, please--too much.”

He kept using her body. Chan could feel her clamping down around his length. “Sorry,” he breathed out as he felt the pressure in his balls rising. “You’re just, hmmmph, too perfect.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Miya came with a cry. Her arms wrapped around his neck, trying to ground yourself in any way that she could. Nothing could stop the curses that flowed out of you as you held him close against you. Chan wasn’t far behind; “Oh, I-I’m gonna--”

Chan stilled as his hot sticky cum painted the inside of Miya’s tight cunt. Their heavy breaths filled the room, bouncing off the walls. He pressed his lips to hers as her hands ran down his muscular back. Once his cock went soft, Chan pulled out of Miya and went to the bathroom to retrieve a small towel. As he cleaned Miya off, she could feel herself falling asleep.

Chan smiled down at Miya’s sleeping form and lay beside her, going to sleep himself.

Miya stirred awake, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. As she regained consciousness, she soon realized she wasn’t in her bedroom, let alone her apartment. Her head pounds, eyes go wide as she sits up in the bed and discovers she is naked.

‘What the hell happened last night?’

As she rubbed her head, Miya glanced around the room, and her eyes settled on a body underneath the blankets. Hesitantly, she reached over and peeled the sheets back to receive a lifetime shock. Asleep in the nude beside her was none other than the leader of Stray Kids: Bang Chan. Miya quietly gasped as she slipped out of the bed onto the floor. She had to be quick and silent.

‘Holy shit! There can’t be no way.’

‘How could I not recognize him?’

Miya tiptoed around the hotel room and found her dress lying on the floor before slipping it on. She discovered her panties and shoes discarded by the door. After seeing all her items, Miya snuck out of the door to the elevator. Inside the machine, she leaned against the wall. She opened her purse and grabbed her phone, seeing she only had a ten percent battery.

With a second thought, Miya ordered herself an Uber. When she got to the lobby, the red sedan was waiting for her to take her home. Miya climbed in the backseat, buckled her seatbelt, and leaned her head against the window. On the ride home, she saw at least fifty calls from Kaya and decided to call her back before her phone died.

Bestie🤍🥤- It’s about time you fucking answered! I was about to go to the police station and put out a missing persons report!!

Well, good thing I did call you.

Bestie🤍🥤- Where the hell have you been?

I went with some guy last night.

Bestie🤍🥤- With whom?

Some guy I met. I didn’t get his name.

Bestie🤍🥤- Next time, let someone know so we don’t worry.

I’m sorry, jagi.

Bestie🤍🥤- Where are you now?

I’m in an Uber on my way home.

Bestie🤍🥤- Okay, I’ll see you soon.

Okay bye.

Right when Miya hung up her phone, the screen went black. Finally, she arrived home and thanked the driver as she exited the car. Entering her apartment, Miya locked the door behind her. She kicked off her sneakers and plopped down on the couch. She stared at the ceiling as the events of last night replayed in her head.

Miya remembered everything from when Caleb introduced her to Chan and his bandmates to the second they stepped inside his hotel room. Did she regret it? No. Does she feel embarrassed? Hell yeah. She had sex with a known celebrity. Damn it, Miya hoped he didn't remember because that would be humiliating and prayed she’d never see him again.

She was so worried that she didn’t hear her best friend Kaya walk into the apartment.

“What’s got your mind occupied?” Kaya asked, tapping Miya on her leg.

“I think I did something wrong,” Miya answered, sitting on the couch.

“What happened?” Her best friend questioned curiously, leaning back against the sofa.

“I-I-I slept with someone.” She stuttered, beginning to feel guilty.

“Who was it?” Kayla inquired, crossing her arms.

“Do you know the K-pop group Stray Kids?” Miya asked, taking a breath and preparing to spill the beans.

“Yeah, what about them?” Her best friend responded, eyeing her warily.

“Well, I had sex with their leader,” Miya confessed, feeling like she lifted a weight off her shoulders.

It took Kaya a minute to process what Miya had confessed before gasping. “No shit you did.”

“Wait, you knew?” She asked, eyes widening in shock.

“Mhmm. The dinner was for his birthday.” Kaya nodded, replying to her best friend.

“I’m freaking out on the inside. How can I do that and with Chan of all people?” Miya asked herself out loud, staring at the ceiling.

“You’re human, Miya.” Kaya sighed, patting her friend on the shoulder.

“What would you do in my position?” Miya questioned, looking at her calm friend.

“Don't make a big deal about it.” Her best friend said, shrugging her shoulders. “If you think about it, he most likely won’t say anything about it because of his status.”

“You’re right.” She nodded, processing her words. She sat silently for a minute before sighing and saying, “Thank you for that, but I need to shower.”

“You’re welcome.” Kaya smiled, waving at her as Miya walked towards her bedroom.

While Miya showered, she stood under the cascading water, having a flashback to last night. She’s not going to lie; she had a damn good time with Chan. Especially when they got to his hotel room. Honestly, Miya would do it again and again. She hopes it doesn’t get out to the public, including his fans.

It’s been three weeks since Miya slept with Stray Kids’s leader Bang Chan. She went on with her days pretending like it didn’t happen, although she kept getting flashbacks of that pleasurable moment. Having to go to work the next day, Miya returned to her work routine as a neonatal nurse. Miya loved her job and wouldn’t trade it for any other career. No one could convince her to switch jobs if they offered to pay her twenty million dollars.

Today was like any other day for Miya. She woke up early, got ready, stopped for coffee, and carpooled with Kaya to work. For some reason, it felt off to her. As she sipped her beverage, she cringed at the bitter taste but stopped when her stomach churned.

“Pull over.” Miya quickly stated, unfastening her seatbelt. She opened the door and leaned just in time to vomit her morning breakfast.

Kaya sat in the driver's seat, shocked and worried for her best friend. “Are you okay? You never get sick from coffee?”

Miya heaved before leaning back in the vehicle. Kaya hands her a bottle of water to rinse her mouth out. She tried catching her breath before speaking.

“Is today the 28th?” Miya asked, staring ahead of her.

“Yeah, why?” Her best friend asked, driving away when the light turned green.

Suddenly, Miya's eyes widened as she tried to unlock her phone and click on her period tracker app. The notification bubble popped up: Your period is 55 days late! Miya gasped.

“We have to stop by a convenience store,” Miya said, looking at her best friend.

“What? Why?” Kaya asked, widening her eyes and raising her brows in shock.

“Please just go to a convenience store.” She begged as realization began to sink into her brain.

On the car ride to the store, Kaya was worried about her best friend and curious about why she needed to go there, but she drove there anyway. Miya raced inside the building, searching the aisles for what she needed. Once Miya found what she needed, she hesitantly grabbed them and paid. Kaya eyed the bag inside the car but didn’t question Miya why her best friend got what she bought. The pair arrived at the hospital and went through metal detectors before walking to their department.

Before heading to her post, Miya took the pregnancy tests to the restroom. Kaya eyed her warily and followed behind her. Miya took each test out of the box and peed on each stick. She held all three in her hand, praying they all came up negative. God, she hoped they were false.

After the time was up, she slowly peered at the sticks and gasped. Kaya heard her and knocked on the stall door.

“Miya, what's wrong?” She asked, placing her hand on the door.

Miya felt shocked, scared, and even somewhat happy. Did Mya want a child right now? No, she didn't. For crying out loud, Miya’s only twenty-two. What will she do with a baby while working the hours she does? Slowly, she stood up and unlatched the restroom stall door, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m pregnant.” Miya sniffled, falling into Kaya’s arms as she cried.

Kaya couldn’t do anything but comfort her best friend through her tough time. “Oh baby, I’m sorry. Whatever you want to do, know that Karsyn and I are always here for you.” She kissed Miya’s head while rubbing her back in a comforting manner.

It took Miya some time to gather herself before she got to work. During her shift, Miya kept thinking about what she should do. What would her parents think? Does she even tell them? How will they react?

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter thirty

Summary: How does it end?

Warning: Duel POV. The tiniest mention of sex.

Word Count: 1471

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Epilogue

A/N: I can't believe this is almost the end. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez | @am-3-thyst

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan

Bucky’s POV

The memory of you standing by the sketch of him lingered in Bucky’s mind, a haunting melody that he couldn’t shake. Your words echoed in his eyes: “For my entire life in this city– all I see is you.” It felt like a revelation as if he could see something shift in you at that moment. Yet, he was unsure how to process the emotions that stirred within him. 

Bucky decided to spend the day with Leah, taking her to a place that once brought him solace to help clear his mind. The lake was nestled away from the neon lights and the city’s hustle, a place the two of you had often retreated to. He thought bringing Leah there would help him find some clarity. 

The ride to the lake was quiet, nothing but the hum of the bike, and Bucky’s clouded thoughts. Leah noticed his distraction from the moment he picked her up, but she chose not to press him about it. He did wonder if she sensed the undercurrents of his unease, even though she seemed content. 

Just as he remembered it, the lake water shimmered under the late afternoon sun, and the trees whispered in the gentle breeze. Leading Leah to a secluded spot, the familiar surroundings tugged at his heart. 

Leah wandered around, taking in the scenery. Her eyes fell upon something carved into the bark of an old oak tree as she approached it. A curious smile played on his lips as she turned to Bucky. “Hey, Bucky… come here!” she called out.

His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the tree she stood by. Your initials and his, intertwined and etched into the tree– a memory, a relic of your shared history.

“That’s adorable,” Leah said, her tone light but knowing as she gestured toward the markings. 

Sighing, Bucky ran a hand over his hair. “There’s something I need to tell you, Leah.” 

Her smile faded slightly as she looked at him expectantly, sensing the seriousness in his tone. 

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage. “I love her, Leah. I’ve tried to bury it, to move on, but I can’t.” 

Leah remained calm, almost resigned. “No way, I’d never would have guessed.”

Bewildered, Bucky looked at her meeting her gaze. “You knew?”

“Of course, I knew, dumbass,” she replied, amusement sparkling in her eyes. 

“Wait,” Bucky’s confusion deepened. “Why… why did you stay all this time?”

Her expression softened, and affection flickered in her gaze. “Honestly, I was never looking for anything serious, and it was clear you weren’t either, not with anyone else anyway. Oh, and the sex was great.” 

He realized just how perceptive she had been all along and her honesty struck him. He thought he must have been a dumbass, thinking he could keep his feelings for you buried while being around Leah.

“I do care about you, Leah,” he began, his voice filling with regret. 

She smiled, understanding etched on her face. “I know.” 

The weight of unspoken truths settled between them as they stood in silence for a moment. The lake, the tree, your initials– all symbols of a past he couldn’t escape.

Leah’s gentle voice broke the silence. “You need to figure out what you want, Bucky. And I think you already know.” 

He nodded, his heart filled with mingling gratitude and sorrow. “Thank you, Leah. For everything.” 

“Hey, this isn’t a farewell speech, yet,” she chuckled softly. “We’ve still got plans with everyone at the bar later, remember?” 

“Shit,” Bucky laughed, the tension between them easing slightly. “You’re right, do you want to leave now, then?” 

As they rode back to the city, Bucky reflected on his gratitude for Leah’s understanding. A strange mixture of relief and anticipation coursed through him as he thought about a chance to confront his feelings. 

~

Cry Baby’s POV

The evening approached and you began to get ready to meet with everyone at the bar. You tried to push away the complicated feelings that surfaced whenever you thought about Bucky together with Leah as your phone buzzed with a text to confirm they’d be there.

When you arrived at the bar, your friends were gathered in the usual booth. A comforting, familiar atmosphere was created with laughter and music filling the air. Greeting everyone, you exchanged quick hugs and caught up on their latest news. 

While in mid-conversation with Sam, the door swung open, and Bucky walked in with Leah by his side. Your heart flipped at the sight of him, yet you tried to keep your composure steady and stay focused on your conversation.

Bucky’s gaze found yours almost in an instant, and for a moment, it was as if no one else in the world existed. A small, tentative smile tugged at his lips before Leah pulled him toward the group.

~

The night wore on as you tried to focus on your friends, yet your attention kept drifting over to Bucky. The easy way he interacted with Leah, the smiles they were sharing, every second felt like a dagger to your heart. Lost in your thoughts, you almost missed a particular moment that shattered your fragile composure. 

“Sweetheart,” the nickname used amid a casual conversation, snapped your thoughts back to reality. The word hit you like a punch to the guy as the realization that he wasn’t directing it to you, but instead to Leah. It felt like every memory you had of all the times he’s called you that flooded your mind, the term of endearment that had always been yours– The smallest piece of the connection you cherished. 

Your emotions began to boil over, and you couldn’t stay there any longer. You bolted from the booth without a word, rushing out of the bar. As if in sync with your turmoil, the night air was cold and damp, pouring raid as the sky opened up. 

The rain soaked through your clothes as reached the bikes lined up outside the bar. Each breath you took hitched with sobs, the chill of the rain mixed with the heat of your tears. The plan was crystal clear as the rest of the world blurred. You turned to see Bucky as his heavy footsteps approached you from behind. His face filled with concern, his eyes held an urgency that mirrored the storm within you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle as he reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand. His touch was a warm contrast to the wet, cold rain. 

You struggled to find the right words, the rain began to mingle with your tears as they spilled down your cheeks. “I can’t sit in there and listen to you call her that,” you blurted out, your voice trembling as you finally looked up at him. “I know it sounds pathetic, but that’s been ours since we were kids, Bucky.” 

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes widened in shock but his hand stayed gently holding your cheek, smoothly rubbing his thumb against it. The only sound between you was the relentless patter of rain hitting the pavement, as he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. 

“I’m in love with you,” your words spilled out in a rush, the adrenaline that coursed through you drove it to admit the truth to him. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I can’t watch you be with someone else anymore–”

Before you could continue, Bucky’s lips met yours. The intensity takes your breath away. Everything around you seemed to disappear, there was only the two of you standing in the rain, together. The kiss was filled with years of unspoken emotions, everything you had been hiding.

His forehead rested against yours when he pulled back. His breath was warm as it mingled with your ragged breaths as he spoke. “I’m in love with you too,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s always been you, I just… I didn’t know you felt the same way.” 

Wrapping your arm around his neck, your tears mixed with the rain as you held him tightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner,” you said, your voice choking on your emotions. “I, I, I,” you stuttered unable to find your voice again. 

He shook his head, placing another kiss against your lips. “It doesn’t matter now,” he murmured. “We know now, and that’s all that matters.” 

The rain continued to pour down, chilling you to the bone, but you couldn’t care. All that mattered in that moment was you were finally together, your hearts laid bare. 

The pain, the confusion, the fear– in that moment, you knew that everything you had been through had led to this. Standing together, Bucky by your side, you were ready to embrace whatever came next in the open road of the future.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Epilogue

[gougarfem]

how was the process of getting a dumbphone!

oh my god this is something i'm so excited to talk about, sorry it took me so many months to respond!

getting a dumbphone improved my quality of life so so much. i knew my screentime was high, but didn't realise it was a genuine psychological addiction until i quit. the first few days were extremely rough. time seemed to pass about ten times slower, and i was forced to fill the hours with various hobbies and activities. i know we all love to tell people to touch grass, but i really did have to connect with nature and it did wonders for my mental health.

i think for the first three days i was constantly restless and horribly irritable, looked around for my phone every few minutes, felt intense boredom and even cried a few times lol. your addiction may not be as extreme as mine was and this varies from person to person. however, after about a week i realised i remembered everything i'd done each day, because it was filled with intentional activities and little moments of peace rather than a blur of scrolling. i also wasn't on adhd meds yet, which is something i'll talk about in another post.

not having everything at your fingertips is uncomfortable, but (and it's a cliche) you really start to appreciate the world around you more. i looked forward to spending time with my family, because it filled time and i wasn't half-involved in my phone the entire time. i use an mp3 player to listen to music, and uploading music to it is a meaningful and interesting activity, rather than just shuffling a playlist. i listen to whole albums instead of being flooded with dopamine from spotify firing recommended songs at me. i appreciate music more, i make CDs for friends, i have to be intentional in discovering new artists and music. if i'm having an interesting conversation online, i look forward to going home and logging onto my laptop to continue it. i don't spend my commute, time in class, or time with friends texting somebody else. everything feels more intentional, spaced out, and interesting, even the things i do online.

i also found i stopped performing in every activity i did. i stopped thinking about whether i could post it to instagram or instantly send a picture in a discord server. i started picking up new hobbies for myself, not for an online audience, and living in the moment more. this is really important in the modern age, although again uncomfortable.

the best part was how my connections with others increased through having a dumbphone. i started calling friends rather than messaging on five platforms at once, and they started reciprocating. my message threads are continuous, coherent conversations, rather than sending memes. people realised they have to intentionally reach out to me, and i lost relationships with people who weren't interested in that, but strengthened connections with people who did put in the effort (many of whom i barely talked to in the past). i give people my phone number, not my social media handle, and they actually start conversations with me rather than hitting follow. i get to hear my friends' voices when they have drama to share and realise it takes me forever to type on my flip phone keyboard. again, everything is intentional, takes time, and richer than when i had a smartphone.

i genuinely would recommend it to absolutely everyone (i've kind of become like a crossfit guy in telling people to get a dumbphone lol). i won't pretend it's easy, and most people make excuses - for the first few months of having a dumbphone, i was bedbound or in hospital, and truly relied on online connections to pass time and communicate. it still hugely improved my life. however, no matter your situation there are always, always better options than scrolling an app, and you deserve to pass your time in a memorable way. i think most people don't realise they're addicted/reliant on smartphones, and the idea of quitting is horribly uncomfortable, but at least for me, the benefits were worth it.

i'm happy to answer any questions, i literally could talk about this topic for hours (even if it's stuff like "how would i use x app" "how would i replace x smartphone function").

ditch your smartphone babe, u deserve better <33

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWELVE

in which you grapple with new emotions of nothing, eddie makes a few bad jokes, and honesty becomes an illusion again.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 3.8k+

→ a/n: half way point, folks! sorry this one is shorter. blame eddie?

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

12:00 ────────ㅇ───────── 24:00

JOHNNY BOY: No photo, no money, right? 

ARGYLE 😎: learn some patience broski 

JOHNNY BOY: It's been an hour and they aren’t answering. They haven’t said anything. I want my money. 

DINGUS: why the fuck are you guys blowing up the chat right now? someone better be dead. 

ARGYLE 😎: the lovers haven’t sent their hourly update. 

ARGYLE  😎: maybe they are dead. killed each other with passion. 

JOHNNY BOY: So what are we buying with that spare 1k, guys?

BIRDIE: oh fuck please tell me they aren’t dead

BIRDIE: did they seriously kill each other? do i need to facetime them? 

DINGUS: @BIRDIE honestly, for once, you have a good idea. facetime them. i would call but… something tells me i need to back off for a while. 

JOHNNY BOY: I take it you remembered that night at the bar? 

DINGUS: oh fuck off (yes. i did.)

BIRDIE: i’m facetiming them now.

DINGUS: great. i’m going back to bed. 

JOHNNY BOY: I think I’m going to buy a new camera with my cut of the money personally. 

—

HOUR TWELVE - 3:00 AM

One of you should have moved.

It could have been minutes, hours, decades later. The concept of time is completely lost on you as you focus on the weight of Eddie lying over you. He’s half draped across your back, bare chest sinking into your exposed skin, throwing the brunt of his weight in the sliver of cushion available to him beside you. His softening cock is still inside of you, the warmth of him is encasing you from the inside out. You match each deep inhale of his with your own, exhaling on the same silent beat. An unspoken moment of synchronicity, letting the weight of the decisions just made truly crawl beneath both of your skins. 

I hate you. 

Good, then this changes nothing.

You wondered if he tasted the sour of his lie in the heat of the moment. You wondered if it was just as metallic on his tongue as it had been on your own. 

One of you should have moved. But it takes the realization of your incapability to truly hate Eddie Munson as you should and the twitch of your body that follows to rouse Eddie. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, finally pulling out, turning to fully fit his body onto the couch rather than on top of you. You dangle a leg and arm over the edge of the sofa, keeping your cheek pressed to rough fabric and your eyes turned from him as you bite your tongue. 

A million words you want to say in the clarity, all lost and slipping between your fingers with time. 

I lied. I don’t hate you. This meant everything. This changes everything. I don’t hate you. 

“Fuck is right,” you settle on murmuring instead. There’s nothing you can say now that can change what’s transpired. It’s over, it’s done with. Rather than staying stuck in the past still in your rearview mirror, you need to focus on the road laid out ahead of you two. 

The two of you lay like that for even longer than you had the previous position, shifting here and there until you both fit comfortably on the lumpy cushions. Side by side, almost spooning, but space left between you. You don’t think Eddie even realizes his hand is grazing soft circles over your thigh, moving on its own accord and sending shivers of comfort down your spine. 

Is the road ahead of you two even paved? 

“What now?” he suddenly asks, breaking the silence you two had been reveling in. You had been in your own head, and you wonder for a moment if he had been as well. You can’t find it in yourself to glance over your shoulder and look at him, to solve the mystery on your own, instead clinging to those grazes of his fingertips still skimming your thigh. 

With an exhausted sigh, you zero in your focus across the room, looking at the clock on the shelves, “I don’t know. It’s already three in the morning, so-”

“Oh, fuck.” 

“What?”

“It’s fucking three,” Eddie is shooting up from behind you quickly, “We never sent a fucking picture.” 

You understand his panic immediate, realization settling as he springs off of the couch, echoing his words with sincerity, “Oh, fuck.” 

In any other scenario, it would have been comical to see a nude Eddie panicked and rushing about his apartment living room. To see him disposing of the condom, to see him struggling to pull back on his sweats and t-shirt before he’s disappearing into his bathroom and emerging seconds later with a blushing face and a wet rag. 

He returns to you in an instant, murmuring the world’s softest apology before he swipes the cold cloth over your sore cunt, making you hiss out in surprise. 

“What the Hell-”

“I said I was sorry!” he defends, tossing the rag to the floor before he’s grabbing your clothes, his clothes technically, and handing them over to you, “Figured you’d want to be dressed before we send the photo.” 

“I-” you stare at the clothes with a contorted face, still trying to brush off the exhaustion that came with the sudden change in atmosphere. You hadn’t even gotten to maneuver the aftermath of it all, pilferage the rubble and bring up the possible path-not-yet-road that you two had to face going forward. 

What did this mean for you two now? What did this mean for the remaining twelve hours?

Nothing, you suppose. Maybe you don’t need to ask those questions, because Eddie already answered them for you. It changes nothing. 

“Thanks,” you numbly say and take the clothes from him. He grabs your phone off the floor as you shrug the clothing back on.

What the fuck were you expecting? 

It was a one time ordeal. It was just a quick fix to get it out of both your systems. Just because you were needy, because you were craving a conversation about it all, didn’t mean Eddie was. There was no difference here between what transpired between the two of you and some random hookup. No feelings, no strings attached. The only difference was the obligation to spend another twelve hours together, if your friends hadn’t already decided their altruistic grace periods had hit their limits. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie grumbles, looking over your plethora of notifications, “Fifty fucking texts. Seven missed calls. We’re fucked,” When you let out a sharp laugh, he looks up from the screen at you, furrowing his brows, “What’s so funny?”

“Can you imagine making it halfway only to fuck up because we were getting along too well?” you snort, unable to help yourself. Twelve hours. You two had managed what already felt impossible, only to screw it all up because you two couldn’t keep it in your pants. Maybe if you admitted that to your friends, they would let the bet continue. You can already imagine Robin’s yips of glee at the prospect. 

Eddie’s worrisome look begins to crack, the corners of his mouth twitching, “I… That would… suck.” 

His voice is wavering, barely able to keep it together and withhold his own amusement as you beckon for him to hand over the phone, both of you sitting back on the couch, thighs pressed together. 

“Suck is one way to put it,” you giggle, barely glancing at the missed notifications, “Seriously. We made it this far. And it’s not like we weren’t together… We were. A little too literally.” 

If this is the closest you two come to talking about it, you can handle that. 

Eddie finally barks out a laugh, “Yeah. Maybe we took the bet too literally.”

“Just a little bit,” you shimmy a shoulder against his, forcing all laughter and smiles and drowning out any worries that continued to persist in your chest. Now wasn’t the time. This was enough. You can handle it. 

Your phone lights up with a Facetime call, making both of you jump.

Robin.

“Oh, no,” you groan, eyes pinching shut. 

“It could be worse,” Eddie notes, leaning into your space. His side presses into yours and it makes you want to die, “At least it’s just Buckley.” 

You shake your head, ignoring the burn he ignites in you with every slight touch still, grumbling, “Right, it’s just Buckley.” 

The two of you had sex. It should be out of your system. There was no need to continue to feel goosebumps raise when his shoulder knocked yours, when his knee slotted up against yours. It has to be out of your system. 

You swipe your thumb to answer the call against your better judgment. 

“Oh my God, you two idiots are alive! I swear to God, we thought you two killed each other! I almost had to go across the hall and have Steve predial for the cops if you two didn’t answer, I-” 

Robin’s rambling begins without so much as a hello. She’s speaking a mile a minute, taking no breaks, no pauses, no breaths, as you stare blankly at the screen where she’s half hidden in the shadows of her dark room. 

“Jesus,” Eddie whispers, eyebrows raising. You watch him through the screen, afraid to turn your actual face towards him. You don’t trust yourself. It should be out of your system, but it isn’t. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone talk so fast-”

“Fuck off, Munson,” despite Eddie’s effort to keep his voice low, Robin picks up on his words mid-rant, “My point is, we were worried. Why didn’t you send your photo or answer any calls?”

“We forgot,” you supply lamely. You catch Eddie’s fight against a smirk as he coughs over the beginnings of a scoff, and immediately shoot your elbow that’s out of frame into his side. 

Robin narrows her eyes at the screen, “You just forgot? How? No offense, but I can’t see you two getting distracted, especially with each other. We’ve all been under the assumption you just… sit on opposite sides of the room, and pretend the other doesn’t exist.”

Eddie coughs again, followed by a grunt from another pierce of your elbow.

“Have you considered that we might have been sleeping?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m so glad that you’re all-knowing, Buckley,” Eddie says as he composes himself, “Where would we be without a sleep expert?” 

You finally turn your head to glare at him face-to-face rather than through the screen, trying to warn him to back off. Robin could go hours in the ring with Eddie, and you weren’t exactly in the mood to listen to the two banter off each other. He meets your warning gaze with wide eyes, almost as innocent as a child caught in the act. You can’t even stay mad at him – the moment those autumn brown eyes meet yours, soft and gooey and terribly laced with tempting gold, you’ve melted for him. All your defenses fall. 

You need to talk about it. You need to know if he means it.

“What does that even mean?” You ask as you slowly turn your head away from Eddie, “What exactly are we supposed to look like after sleeping?”

“I don’t know. Messy hair, squinty eyes, maybe some dried drool and appearing more… more… caught off guard?” Robin rattles off her list as she stares at them through the screen, shifting around from where it looks like she’s laying in bed, “Actually, now that I’m saying all this outloud, maybe you guys were sleeping,” you and Eddie freeze up in sync. Technically, you two could pass off as the Facetime being a rude awakening in your mutual dishevelment – both your hair and Eddie’s was messy as could be, shirts looking to be twisted from putting them on so carelessly. Hell, at your own detrimental embarrassment, you bet Robin would spot dried drool on your face if she looked close enough. Just not for the reasons she would believe, “Shit, yeah, okay. I believe you guys. You were sleeping. Our bad.” 

Just as you sigh in relief, Eddie’s face blooms with a wicked grin. 

“That or we were fucking.” 

It comes to your attention now that it is very hard to decipher when Eddie is joking. You wonder just how many times you had misinterpreted his sarcasm, how many times he had said a blatant truth only for you to take it for a grain of salt. 

Most of all, you wonder if Robin catches your distress at him actually exposing you two. You don’t even have it in you to shove your elbow especially painfully into his side this time, completely dismayed and unsure of what to say. 

She doesn’t catch it. She only snorts, rolling her eyes, “Right. Of course – or that.” 

You’re still unable to respond as Eddie continues to grin, laughing along with Robin, including her in an inside joke she had no idea of her involvement in. She has no idea. 

Because you guys were fucking. You’d had sex with Eddie, let him use you and throw you around like a goddamn rag doll. And now, here he was, so casually joining around with your mutual friend about it as if it were some absurd dream. Some stupid joke, some unreasonable thought of something that could never possibly happen. 

“Okay, well I’ll let you guys go back to bed-”

“Or jumping each other’s bones,” Eddie interrupts Robin.

She makes an exaggerated gagging noise, though the corners of her mouth are pulled up in a smile, before continuing, “And I’ll let everyone know we probably won’t get an update for the next hour. Just… don’t kill each other, alright? Who knows, maybe you guys can even become friends?” 

You wait for Eddie to take the punch line of something along the lines of being friends with benefits, to make a spectacle yet again of what had just transpired to an unsuspecting Robin. 

It meant nothing to him. It was all a joke to him. 

“See ya, Robs,” you offer weakly, numbly, hardly able to raise a hand to wave her off. You know that to her, this is just a symptom of fatigue. The type of tired solved by crawling back into bed and sleeping it off. She’s not worried; she even grins wider as she says her final goodbyes to you and Eddie before the call ends. 

Eddie knows better than Robin. 

He waits a few seconds after the call has ended and his apartment has fallen silent again, watching your slow movements as you sit your phone down on the arm of the couch. 

You lied to yourself, clearly. This incessant ache in you, this question that has begun to run laps in your mind, will never be satiated or sedated through joking discussions of what happened. You can’t pretend like your hips won’t carry invisible scars for the rest of your days from where Eddie’s hands scorned you, you can’t forget how his lips fit against yours in a movement easier than breathing. Kissing him, holding him, filling him had been more effortless than filling your lungs with the air necessary for survival. And you hadn’t caught onto it in the moment, hadn’t recognized your mistake and stopped this train from running off its tracks quicker than you could handle. 

That’s all it was. A trainwreck. You and Eddie were a trainwreck, and the only casual so far it seemed was you. 

An explosion. A glass wall. A tormented ocean. Every single transaction between you and him ended with you wounded, never him. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks when you suddenly stand from the couch, not really sure of where you were going to go but no longer capable of just sitting and thinking, pondering, drowning. 

“Fine,” you curtly reply, deciding the kitchen might be a good place to start. Get a glass of water, gulp it down instead of false hope or fake niceties Eddie was probably going to shower you with now. 

Or maybe there would be no face niceties. Maybe he’d go back to being cruel, and in that, not realize he was being kind to you and your heart that had grown too heavy over the last twelve hours. 

“You don’t look fine,” he persists, and follows you. It nearly sparks irritation. But of all the emotions rushing through you right now, you don’t have the energy to spare for petty irritation. 

“Then stop looking,” you sigh as your eyes trace over his cabinets, trying to remember which one holds his glasses. He gets too close too fast, coming up behind you and opening one of the cabinets as if he was reading your mind. A collection of mugs, plastic cups, and crystal glasses alike line the shelves. You focus on them rather than him. 

“What’s wrong?” he insists, actually starting to get on your nerves now.

You didn’t want to tell him what’s wrong, because it was stupid. The most predictable cliche has come to fruition, and you only have yourself to blame. The anger he’s assuming is his fault is just misdirected. You just needed to get your emotions under control – if you could accomplish that, you could survive these last few hours. 

“It’s nothing,” you push back, finally looking at him. You worry for a second that you might be teary eyed, but you know better. Your corneas burn, everything aches, but your vision is clear as day. He’s clear as day, and it makes the ache all the more unbearable, “I’ll get over it.” 

You’re not supposed to want him this way. You’re supposed to hate him. 

He stiffens, “Get over what?” 

“It.” 

“I-” he stammers at your vague response, mouth pressing into a harsh line as his eyes narrow, “Jesus Christ, how are you still this fucking stubborn? After everything that’s happened tonight? After everything that happened in the last hour?” 

“I’m not stubb-” you fruitlessly try to correct, but he bulldozes on without listening.

“I thought after I had been balls deep in you, maybe we had made some progress – maybe we could be friends-” 

“Are you fucking joking?” you scoff, trying to properly process the sentence he’d just said and not get hung up on him using the phrase balls deep, “I- No, okay? Sex doesn’t mean friendship, Eddie. That’s not how this works.” 

“Then how does it work?” if you were stupid, you’d assume he was begging, “Please enlighten me. How do I get you to trust me?” 

“Why do you need my trust so badly?” you snark back. Misdirected anger, and he’d put himself directly in the line of fire, “Why do you want that of me so goddamn badly when it’s clear that after tonight, we’ll pretend all of this never existed?” 

He steps back as if you slapped him. As if he hadn’t been the one just making a mockery of whatever was happening between the two of you. 

“You said it yourself,” you continue to ramble, waving around a previously fisted hand, “It changes nothing. And it’s not your problem that I struggle with that. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself – there’s a difference.” 

“It doesn’t feel like there’s a difference,” Eddie immediately snaps, “You’re mad because I said… I said that? Because I said your words back to you? Because if you can recall correctly, sweetheart, you’re the one that said it all means nothing first.”

The misdirected anger is starting to feel perfectly directly with each word that leaves his mouth, “Because you asked me if it all meant nothing first. They’re still your words, not mine!” 

“I only asked that because you’ve made it very clear that you enjoy hating me.” 

“You think I enjoy this?” your voice breaks with emotion, taking a step closer to him. Your toes brush his, “You think I enjoy all this fighting with you? You think I enjoy seeing you act like it’s painful to be in a room with me for more than a few seconds at a time?”

His hardening gaze, his hands twitching at his sides, the lilt of his mouth as the corner folds downward. Now that you’ve tasted him, you could never erase yourself of him. 

“You really want to know what I think?” he’s not screaming like he should be. The two of you should be shouting to the ceilings, screaming until the surrounding neighbors could hear you. You want to yell until your lungs give out and noise complaints have been filed, but he’s not having it. He’s quiet as he takes the next step closer. His head dips in closer to yours, lips nearing the shell of your ear, “Do you truly want to know what I think about all of this?”

“Yes,” you whimper out, the need for yelling being swallowed down for the time being, “That’s all I want.”

It’s true. You don’t know if he can see it, the crack in your composure as you admit it, but it’s the truth. You want to see inside his mind, watch the mechanics ticking in real time. You need to know his every single thought and feeling so badly, your hands shake. 

“I think,” his voice comes out as a husky whisper directly against your ear, chest just shy of brushing against yours, “you never really hated me, baby,” he pauses, and one of his hands come out to your hips, grabbing you and pulling you in closer to him, “I think, you just wanted me so badly, it made you into a dumb, angry slut.” 

“You’re cocky,” you shakily laugh. You need to stop this. You need to push him away, save yourself.

You lean into his touch and silent commands, pressing up into him. Going as far as to stand up on your tip-toes so that your nose brushes against his neck. 

“Am I?” he chuckles, and the sound shoots straight to your core. 

You need to push him away. You need to put distance. You need to remember this means nothing.

“You asked me what I thought, sweetheart,” he goes to pull away, and you follow, “And I’m nothing if not an honest man.”

It means nothing. You can deal with your own ramifications tomorrow. You can work through the catastrophe relief come tomorrow afternoon, nurse away the heartbreak and sore disappointment. 

You have him for one night. One night. To let him slip away from you is to waste it. 

“Honest?” you try to scoff, but it comes out a breath against his skin, both hands now wrapping around your waist as he turns the two of you and cages you against the counter, “You… You can’t even honestly tell me why you hate me. You have to use some bullshit excuse.” 

His hands rake down your sides before cupping beneath your thighs, lifting you to sit on the counter. He’s fucking smirking. Completely unaffected by your words. 

“Would you like me to be honest now, doll?” he rasps, leaning back to take you in, “Or would you rather me eat that poor pussy right here, right now, on this counter?” 

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[dckweed]

hello there my loves..long time no see, huh? i'm randomly back on my vampire bullshit, and may have spent a few hours listening to a spotify playlist that makes me think of elijah railing somone senseless :) youre welcome.

also, i'm going to be making an edit to my pinned post, to include a list of commissions/things i'll write for you guys in return for a small fee.

warnings: minors, DO NOT INTERACT. sexual plot, physical violence mentioned, blood, blood play, kinda rough but also kinda not..elijah just totally loving his person but wanting to go all murdery murdery on your ex for making you bleed (even though he very much enjoyed the aftermath).

im sorry but in my eyes vampire = blood kink w their significant other/mates.

PART ONE

'𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 ' elijah mikaelson x fem!reader

True to his word Elijah drove you home, kissing your cheek sweetly despite the evil glint to his eye as he watched you step out of the car, still fucked out and with his cum still wet on your cunt. He was taking more glee in this than he probably should have, and he wondered if Niklaus would be proud of him for it.

He sat in the driver's seat, car off as he watched you walk your way up to the front door, digging the keys out of your purse. He saw you fidget with the skirt of your dress touching your bottom, he wondered if maybe it was still sore, but he couldn't help but smirk harder knowing it was his hand print that adorned your ass, his cum that still lingered in your pussy, pooling slowly between your legs and seeping out onto your skirt. He felt his cock stiffen again, and fuck he hadn't ever been more turned by the thought of something so.so abhorrently human as claiming someone for his own..loving someone the way that he loved you, so truly to his core.

He watched as you pushed open the door, closing it behind you, and closed his eyes as he listened to you with his hearing.

You walked through the small hallway, noting how oddly quiet the small one story house was, aside from the clacking of your small heels against the hardwood flooring, it was as if everything was oddly still.

"Joshua?" You call out, your voice still a little shaky from earlier and probably combined with nerves. Why you were nervous, you didn't know, Joshua was harmless, he couldn't even kill a cockroach.

You veered off to the hallway that housed the two bedrooms the house held, and noticed the door to your guys' room was oddly closed. "Joshua?" You call out again, finally hearing a shuffle; hushed whispering behind the wood. You turn the knob, curious.

If you were quite honest, it wasn't the fact that you had caught him doing it, it was the fact that you didn't think he had ever had the fucking balls for it, let alone in your own home. You can't help but laugh a little at the sight of him standing in in the middle of the bed, a sheet covering his still hard, slightly less than average sized cock. You couldn't help but to laugh at that too, knowing what you had waiting for you in the car.

"Oh that's fucking hilarious.. would you believe me if I told you I was only here to tell you I've been doing the same thing?" You ask, shit eating smug grin sliding across your lips. "Holy fuck this entire year I've been feeling so bad for being with Elijah more romantically and sexually than we ever were, but this whole time you've been doing this?"

You shake your head stepping farther into the room, headed towards the dresser. You have a luggage bag sitting just next to it for a trip you were supposed to be taking next week to go visit your family, but hadn't yet packed for. You bend down towards it, feeling the skirt of your dress ride up, leaving your bottom on full display.

A choked noise comes from Joshua's throat as you throw open the lid to the case, and pull open your two drawers in the dresser, grabbing handfuls of clothes and tossing them into the open compartment as you did. You hear movement behind you, and someone sidling up behind you before you feel the skirt of your dress being pulled up to your midback.

"What the fuck is this, Y/N?" He asks, his voice calm but you could hear the undertone of intense anger behind it. His hand is on your ass, as if checking to see if it was even real what he was seeing. "Is this a fucking handprint? His handprint?"

You straighten, your dress falling as you look at him in the mirror. "Yeah, Joshua it is..he put it there about thirty minutes ago while he was fucking my brains out face down on his bed, right before he brought me here to get my things." You turn to face him, glancing at the bitch still on the bed that you had paid for. "And a lot more than you've ever done."

The look on his face is almost priceless, and you happily turn back to your bag, tossing in what was left in your drawers and getting it zipped. You start to leave when you feel his hand in your hair, pulling you backwards. "Hold the fuck on, you're not going anywhere you cheating fucking bitch," He says, and you hear the girl gasp.

"Let her go, Joshua!" She says, her voice full of her nervousness. "It's not like we weren't doing the same fucking thing, let her the fu-" She didn't have time to finish her sentence before she started screaming in fear as a blurred mass comes barreling through the bedroom, pushing you gently out of the way before grabbing your offender by the throat and pushing him up against the window on the opposite side of the room.

You can hear him growling, can tell his face has changed in the reflection of the glass and hes glaring your now ex boyfriend directly in the eye, the look on Joshua's face is one of absolute fear and panic. "Elijah stop it!" You yell, and you notice him falter. "He's not worth it, just take me home..i'm done here."

He doesn't move for a moment, his face still contorted with rage although he lets his normal face comeback. He moves his hand off of Joshua's neck and up to his face, gripping his jaw hard enough to turn make his eyes meet his own. "Joshua, i will let this go, but only because she is here. However, you will not reach out and contact her again, nor will you ever put your hands on another woman without their consent. Am I understood?" You see the man nod and Elijah drops him to the ground, where he crumples like tin foil.

"Right, come along now darling.." Elijah says, giving the girl on the bed just the briefest look. You shoot her a thankful smile for a least trying to stop Joshua from whatever he was about to do, he'd never been one to result to that kind of behavior before so it definitely took you by surprise and you were more than thankful that she had stepped in on your behalf. Elijah grabs your bag off the ground where it had fallen, and then tucks you up under his shoulder, leading you out of the room, and ultimately out of the house, though not before you can grab a photo of your sister and brother that had been hanging on the wall in the hallway, one of the only ones you had of you guys together as a family.

The ride to your new home is tense and quiet, though you know that he's not upset with you at all judging by the way his hand still lovingly rests on your thigh as he drives. You reach down and grab it, intertwining your fingers with his, something you loved doing in private and intimate moments alone with him, as you knew it wouldn't be private for long.

Nearly as soon as he had parked the car your blonde, fierce tempered best friend made her way outside, arms crossed over her chest as she watched Elijah help you out of the car before he went to grab your suitcase from the trunk.

"What happened? You smell like..stress.." She says, sniffing at you weirdly as welcomed you with open arms. "Welcome home, finally." She says, not even giving you a moment to answer as she catches her brothers strange look her way.

"Ill tell you later." You mouth, following behind your boyfriend as he heads inside, you ran to catch up with him, leaving your friend behind as he leads you to your now shared bedroom. Elijah sets your luggage off to the side, near the dresser before going over to a small chest on the other side of the room and pouring himself what looked to be a much needed drink. You purse your lips, headed to the connecting bathroom that already held many of your things from your numerous nighs spent here, fixing your hair in the mirror and touching up your lip gloss just the slightest bit before straightening out your outfit and giving yourself a once over in the mirror.

You found your vampire boyfriend seated on the chaise lounge not too far off from the bathroom, his head back, and a half full crystal glass of what appeared to be bourbon in his hand resting on the back of the lounge. You plant yourself firmly on his lap, legs on either side of his and peer down at him, your hands going to play with the bits of soft hair on the nape of his neck. He hums in response, his body relaxing at the feel of your touch.

"'lijah?" You ask, kissing his jaw just the slightest bit, almost as if to tease him. He hums again, his free hand sliding up the bare skin of your thigh to rest on your hip underneath of your dress, pushing the fabric up, almost as if he needed to be touching your skin in any way he possibly could. "I love you.." You whisper, grazing your lips against his as you speak, pressing yourself against his chest.

A noise sparks in the back of his throat as he kisses you back, lips pressed firmly against yours, holding your body in place against his own as he moves his hand from your hip to your lower back, hand splayed across it in an almost possessive way.

You move a hand from the back of his head, letting it trail over his shoulder and across his arm, fingertips ghosting over his hand as you reach for the glass it held, removing it from his grasp before reaching for the side table and setting it down haphazardly enough that the liquid splashes out of the rim.

His now free hand relocates to your thigh, the other traveling it's way up your back, resting on the back of your neck for the briefest of moments before winding up into your hair, clutching at it. Elijah groans after a moment, pulling away from you unexpectedly before yanking his hand from your hair, fingertips coated in blood. "You're bleeding.." He whispers.

You furrow your brow, face scrunching in confusion as you grab his hand, taking in the blood. You hadn't even felt any pain.. "Huh.." You say, shrugging it off. "he must've grabbed my hair hard enough that his nails dug in..i don't remember any pain though.." You feel his entire body tense up underneath of you at the mention of the events that had happened merely half an hour ago, a growl forms in his chest and a dark look passes over his face and you realize that that was definitely the wrong thing to say, you were used to seeing Elijah so composed and mannerly, you didn't even stop to think that he might not have been able to get past something like this so quickly, especially when it was pertaining to you as his significant other.

Quickly, you do the only thing that you can think of in the moment, and use your own fingers to smudge the blood off of his, looking him in the eye as you put them in his mouth. The vampire makes a noise of surprise, though doesn't reject to the experience, and you realize that he's never tastes your blood before, and that while that had always initially terrified you, doing it in this situation brought an arousal out of you that you didn't even think that you could possess.

Elijah sucks your fingers lightly, letting the taste of your crimson blood linger on his tongue, relishing in the delicacy that was your very own life force..for heavens sake he hadn't ever expected you to do that, of all things in that moment, but he'd be a damned liar if he hadn't nearly creamed his own trousers in that moment. There was no better drug in the world to him than blood, and he could officially say that there was no other blood in the world as fine tasting as your own.

You watch eyes wide, bare pussy sopping wet against his trousers as you watch him suck on your fingers, relishing in the taste. The absolute look of pure pleasure on his face was something you'd never quite seen on him before, and if you were being honest, you had definitely just opened a whole new world of pleasures for the both of you..

After a moment Elijah lets your fingers fall from your mouth, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he looks up at you, unable to even fathom words, drunk off what little taste of you he had just had. You see him swallow hard, as if trying to control himself, and without even thinking you press your lips to his in a harsh embrace, needy and desperate, of which he is all too quick to reciprocate.

You moan, hands at the collar of his shirt as you try to unbutton it, though your hands are too shakey and ultimately it's too slow work..without too much effort you pull at his shirt, the buttons flying apart but finally revealing his skin to you as you shove it off of his shoulders. He tugs his arms out, never breaking from you kiss as his hands go back to your body, squeezing and touching every inch of it.

Earlier had merely been foreplay at this point, and while he loved how beautiful your dress was on you, he couldn't stand to look at it anymore, not when he needed you oh so badly in this moment, and so, in similar fashion to your own, he merely tugs at the spot behind your neck, ripping the dress into two before tossing it somewhere off to the side. He kisses you with a hungry, firey passion, damn near growling in pleasure as he brings a harsh smack down upon your bare ass cheek, which had to have still been sore from earlier.

You squeal at the contact, breaking your kiss for merely a second to catch your breath before giggling like a ditz as he stands to his feet with ease, you in his arms, before tossing you into the middle of his large, four poster bed. You land on your back, bouncing against the mattress. Propped up on your elbows you watch as he makes quick work of his trousers and underwear, surprised to see how hard his cock was already as it swings free of it's restraints.

It's almost predatory the way that he climbs up the bed towards you, eyes held on you, unwavering, gives him the predatory aura, and it quite literally suits him. You watch the muscles in his arms move under his skin with each movement he makes, every inch that he comes closer to you, admiring the way his body looked as he stared down at you, ready to pounce on you.

He finally makes his way between your legs, lingering wet kisses up your body as he presses against you, trailing harsh hickies up your neck, before coming to rest on your face. You're breathless a the sensation of his teeth against your skin, and as he brings his face up to yours, you gasp, this wasn't youre usual Elijah, the person staring at you now was 100% vampire. The veins in his face are prominent, and you notice that his grasp is much stronger than normal as he takes hold of your thigh, bringing it up to hook around his waist, cock sliding into your sopping pussy as he does.

You clench around him immediately, a moan coming from deep within you as you throw your head back, instinctively moving your other leg up to wrap around him, not wanting to let him go as you pull him against your body. The pace he sets is damn near brutal, but none the less pleasurable for you as he takes hard, deep strokes in and out of your already quivering cunt, your brain unable to keep with the sensation as you babble out a string of incoherent noises.

He loves you like this, an absolute vulnerable mess under him, and call it the predator in him, but god damn it only spurred him on farther. His cock was hard he could barely feel it, and he knew that like this he could go for hours, although deep in his mind that little voice reminded him that you were still human, and he was already brutally fucking you into his mattress.

"'lijah, i..oh..holy..ohmygod..." Is the string of words that falls from your mouth as he pulls an earth-shattering orgasm from you in barely a few minutes, he growls in response taking your lips against his own harshly once more, using a hand behind your head to lock you in place against him as he splits his tongue between your lips, searching for your own withing the cavern of your mouth.

His pace doesn't falter, and as he brings the hand out from behind your head, once more tainted with your blood, he drags it across the skin of your chest, painting you with the red liquid he so desperately craved. His mouth follows his hand, tongue lapping up every bit of it he could get, groaning so fucking pathetically with pleasure as he does it. The taste of your blood turns him on in such a way that he suddenly realizes he's not going to last too much longer, and with one hand, he braces himself against the mattress, forearm holding his weight next to your head as he uses his other one to slip under your lower back, lifting your hips up into a new position as he continued to drive his cock into you harsher than he ever had before, grinning almost sadistically at you as your panted, barely comprehendable words turn into a river of high pitched squeals, your hands grabbing onto anything they could reach to brace yourself, face almost unreadable from how fucking amazing you were feeling.

Elijah growls, hand gripping on to his bedding as he stares down at you, the taste of your blood still lingering on his taste buds. He needed more, though even in his most animalistic state he knew he couldn't straight up drink from you, too afraid that he would accidentally drain you.

After a few moments more of his continued pace, the bed jolting underneath of you, the vampire rakes his teeth across the skin of your chest, right above your left breast, right above your heart, his teeth sinking in just enough to draw blood to the surface, letting it flow out and smear against his lips, you moan at the sensation, and as you watch hin lick your blood from your skin your pussy clenches hard, drawing out a strangled moan from him as your nails clamp down into the skin of his shoulder blades, drawing blood on your own as you clung to him for dear life, fearing he was going to fuck you through the floor.

You knew what he was holding back from, could feel it in the way he clenched his eyes shut after licking your chest clean, it wasn't enough. You also knew you couldn't take much more of this brutal pounding to your pussy (as much as you do enjoy this unexplored side of him).

Deciding that you trust him enough, you gather your breath, trying to think in a clear pattern before you use both hands to grip the back of his head, pulling at his hair to lift his head up to look at you, staring into his eyes.

"Bite. Me." You say, nodding at him, before losing yourself in a moan again as he yet again shifts your position to your body being damn near folded un half, you scream as you feel the bed give out beneath you and drop to the ground, thr movement somehow sending his cock even deeper inside of you, and God it is a sensation you haven't ever felt before.."Elijah, baby, please..please..please.." you don't even remember what you're begging for, and can barely comprehend the movement of his face to your neck, where he nuzzles it almost lovingly before you feel his teeth sink into the delicate, already bruised skin and start sucking, a sensation that borders on pain and euphoria. the feeling is brief, and you very distinctly hear him shout in ecstasy as his hot cum sprays inside of you, pumping it into you for a minuet or too before he has to stop, both of you overestimated and over-fucked.

His body slumps against yours, both of you relaxing, bodies pressed against each other as you play with his hair, your brain still reeling from the way that he had fucked you, and from the very intimate moment you had just shared with him..

You feel his body start to slump more, and you know he's about to fall asleep, though before he does he makes sure to shift the both of you so that you're spooning, him behind you. Somehow, maneuvering you so that his cock doesn't slip out, he didn't jniw why, but he needed to keep feeling you like that for a while, wanting to feel connected to you in any way now that he had drinken your blood in that way..he had just claimed you for the entire vampire world, that mark would scar, and it's not like most of the vampire population didn't already know..he couldn't ever be too safe though..

"Elijah.." You mumble, eyes closed. You hear him hum behind you, feel his arm tighten around your middle as he tried to pull you closer.."We broke the bed.."

He chuckles behind you, kissing the back of your head before whispering in your ear, "I love you, baby.."

@amournoir :)