#you end up trying to do things to jog his memory but in the end it never works

[meownotgood]

ok now u got me thinking. aki coming back as the Cold devil. or the Winter devil. or the Snow Storm devil. and he looks the same as he did when he was human but his irises are like a powder blue and there’s always snow in his hair and his lashes. and contrast that with falling in love with you again who he thinks of as so warm and kind and loving….. thawing him….. much to think about - 🍊

the same year the gun devil was eliminated, japan experienced a particularly hard winter season — perhaps that's why he was reborn as the snow devil. when he first opened his eyes, he was met with a dark and cloudy sky, he could hear the lull of the ocean, his ears were still ringing from the hum of a chainsaw and the only thing he can remember is his first name, and particularly not his last.

public safety is quick to follow through on the reports of a humanoid-looking devil wandering the outskirts of hokkaido, leaving a trail of frozen water and dead trees in his path. upon capturing him, since he seemed to not pose much of a threat, he's escorted to the headquarters in tokyo rather than slain.

once the devil gets there, he's apathetic, quiet. doesn't speak unless spoken to. his skin is pale, his lips are chapped, his eyes are a pretty shade of blue and his eyelashes are pure white. he'd pass as a human if it wasn't for the twist of icicles sticking out from his head like horns, covering his hair and his shoulders in tiny droplets of snow, or for the intricate marks on his skin, faint tattoos in the shape of snowflakes.

he looks familiar. like someone who's face was in the obituaries a while ago.

in the mail, you get an unexpected letter from public safety. it includes train tickets, and it's telling you to come to tokyo on urgent business. the minute you've arrived, some devil hunters explain the situation: you need to have a look at this devil — the snow storm devil — and tell them everything you might know about it.

of course, you've never heard of such a thing before. you don't know anything about devils, how are you supposed to give them any valuable information? but when the hunters unlock the cell for you, when you take a step inside and they tell you, don't worry, just keep your distance and you won't get hurt right as they flick the lights on, you realize exactly why you were called here.

it's him.

it's aki, this devil looks exactly like aki, his hair is long and dark and messy, he's got the same face as aki and the same voice as aki when he opens his mouth to ask who you are. he doesn't get to finish his sentence and tell you how damn familiar you look to him because you're already running over, reaching out to touch him even though the devil hunters are yelling at you from the other side of the door, telling you it's too dangerous.

and his skin is cold, he's freezing. you grip his hands, you wrap your arms around him and hug him and it's aki.

aki isn't sure why, but right then, he feels like crying. he's felt nothing but coldness since he came to this place, but you feel so, so warm. his heart twists in his chest, he hugs you back even though he doesn't really know why. he could kill you, he could press his palm to your back and watch you freeze until you're nothing but dust and ice. but he doesn't.

he holds you close, he breathes frost-filled air into the nape of your neck. his body shakes, you mutter into his ear that you've missed him. you pull away, and there's a look in his eyes that's familiar, it's one you've always known.

and yet, when you nervously ask him if he knows who you are, if he remembers you, aki answers honestly, and it's the most the devil has ever spoken: "I don't. But I feel like I should. I'm sorry."

[gretavangroupie]

Edible

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Drugs. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink (if you squint), Cum Play. Major Fluff.

A/N: The very last part of our four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Jake's story to wrap things up! Thank you so much for reading these one shots over the last few weeks, maybe we will do it again soon! ❤️

Usually, Valentine’s day wasn’t a holiday that bothered you. As a single person in your mid 20’s, it’s almost expected that you dread the 14th of February. The years before and between relationships never bothered you, but as you slip into your pajamas at 7:50pm on a Friday night that also happens to be Valentine’s day, the realization that you’re alone hits a little harder.

You shuffle down the stairs in your slippers and matching PJ set, your destination being the bottle of red wine in the fridge. As you stand in front of the door and look at the dry erase calendar on your freezer, you avoid acknowledging the little heart you drew around the number 14 when you were clearly in better spirits. You also happen to see the little sticker that lives permanently above the column of Fridays. Trash day.

Letting your head fall back, you groan at the ceiling before turning on your heel towards the trash can. Lifting the half-full bag out and tying it off, you consider whether or not you really need to take the bin out to the curb… It’s so, so cold, and you’ve had a tough day already.

Shaking your head, you pull yourself out of your thoughts and decide to grow up. You get moving and elbow the door open, wincing as the cold air hits your skin. The short sleeve shirt and matching shorts combination are really not on your side at this moment as you jog down the four stairs towards the spot where your trash bins live. 

It’s a minute of wrestling before you get the bag in and flip the top closed, grabbing the handle and beginning to wheel it towards the end of your driveway. The rattling of the plastic wheels is so damn loud you feel like you’re waking up half your neighborhood. Oh, wait. They’re probably all out for Valentine’s day. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you kick the bin upright and position it on the patch of grass near the curb.

As you’re about to turn and head inside, you hear rumbling coming from across the street. When you raise your head and try to focus despite the limited light from the streetlamps and the clouded moon, you see your neighbor from across the street. For a moment you feel a little vulnerable in your pajama set, legs bare and no bra, but then you see he’s shirtless, a thin bathrobe over his shoulders and down his back, but it’s hanging open, giving way to show you his tanned chest and stomach. His sweatpants are hanging sinfully low on his hips, and even though you’re all the way across the street, you can see there’s just a tiny bit of hair peeking out from above his waistband.

He has his head down as he does almost the same exact thing you did- he shimmies the bin into position on the curb and makes sure it’s closed tight, left with some defense against the wind. His hair is in a low, messy bun, some stray strands of hair framing his face. 

As you stare at him from the shadows across the street, realizing you’re probably giving off way weirder vibes than intended, you think back on when you’ve seen him and try to remember his face. As you think, there’s a silhouette of a cat in his front window, a warm glow behind it. And then the memory comes to you.

There was one afternoon when you had first moved in, the summer, seven or eight months ago. He came and knocked on your door, a pair of sunglasses on, his shirt unbuttoned and paired with some breezy linen pants. You answered the door in confusion, but were friendly regardless.

“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Jake. I’m your neighbor. I live across the street?” He said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. 

“Right, right. Hey. I’m Y/N.” You answered with a slightly concerned smile. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, um,” he started, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger as he gathered his thoughts. You watched as he crossed his arms over his chest in almost a nervous habit. 

“Do you wanna come in?” You offered, but he shook his head no, waving you off casually.

“No, no. I actually just have a weird and maybe cumbersome favor to ask of you.” He said, his confidence building as the conversation went on. You raised your eyebrows, a little confused, but wordlessly encouraging him to go on.

“There’s this cat that lives in my house and I usually leave him with my brother’s girl when I travel, but she’s actually tagging along, so I’m kind of in a pinch and need someone to feed the thing.” He said. You gave him a look of playful confusion.

“That’s a weird way to say you have a cat.” You quipped, laughing.

“I’m not keeping it! I just don’t want it to get hungry or get hit by a car or something.” He said, laughing through his words. Before you can poke any more fun at him, he keeps talking.

“He’s a grazer, so he really just needs his big ass bowl refilled once a day and he’ll be fine,” he said, flashing you a little smile. “And water.”

You considered it for a moment, but he had such a way about him that there was no way you would be able to say no.

“Okay. Yeah, sure. For how long?” You asked, leaning on the door frame. He fished out a key from his pocket, handing it over as he spoke. It was brass and there was a little soccer ball keychain attached. 

“Just for the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.” He said with a little excitement in his voice. Holding his spare key in your hand, you nodded and gave him a polite smile.

“I can do that. For sure.” You reassured him as he leaned from foot to foot, almost like he had somewhere to be. 

“I fed him just now and I’m about to head out, but when you go in, the kitchen is on the left and his bowl is there. The food is in the bin with… with the food. It’s clear so… you can see it.” He said, taking a few steps backwards. “He also bites, but he’ll probably hide from you anyway, so don’t sweat it!” He added, jogging down the two stairs to the sidewalk. 

“O-okay!” You answered, perplexed but charmed. He shouted across the road to thank you before he hopped into his car and backed out of his driveway.

When you eventually went over to his house the next day, you opened the door cautiously, not wanting to sneak up on the cat who you were warned would bite you. After a moment of wondering why you agreed to this, you shrugged and pushed the door open gently. As if the cat was waiting for Jake himself but then realized it was you, he went flying by so quickly you only heard the thump of his paws and the jingle of his collar. Your eyes almost immediately found the big bowl in the kitchen, sitting in the middle of a little placemat. ‘DAVY’ was etched into the porcelain, so you figured it had to be his. Like Jake mentioned, there was the bin of food about a foot away. 

You didn’t see the cat a single time that weekend. Sunday morning, after you fed him the last time, you left the key on the hook near Jake’s front door and locked it from the inside. You didn’t hear from him, but one day when you got home from work, there was a bottle of wine on your welcome mat with a card underneath, wax sealed with care. Inside, you found a card with a short note of thanks and his name signed in indigo ink. 

You’re pulled back to the present as a car flies down your street, headlights flashing in your peripherals. The light pulls his attention too, and it’s seconds before he notices you across the street. He raises one open hand, giving you a casual wave. You smile and wave your hand back and forth, a polite, neighborly greeting. 

“Look at you, all dressed up. Big plans tonight?” He says, projecting his voice all the way across the street. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing he’s absolutely calling you out for being outside in your pajamas. 

“Oh! Ha. Yeah.” you say, the laugh incredibly forced, your nerves turning you into an awkward, stiff mess. Freezing cold, nervous, and a little embarrassed, you give him another quick wave and scurry inside your house, disappearing. You close the door and snatch the bottle of wine from your fridge, taking the bottle and glass with you into the living room. 

You practically dive under the blanket on your sofa and wrap it around you in a hurry. As you reach for the bottle of wine and pour yourself a little glass, you hear your phone buzz from somewhere in the couch cushions. Fishing it out from under your thigh and some layers of blanket, you squint and turn the brightness down immediately.

You have a few notifications from instagram and other apps, and one text from an unsaved number.

???

8:08pm: Sorry for being weird, lol

It has to be Jake. You hop up from the couch and shuffle to the bulletin board and dry-erase calendar on your freezer to see the torn piece of paper pinned to it. Comparing the two numbers, you confirm it’s the same. That leaves you frozen as you try to figure out how to respond.

You

8:10pm: Oh no worries, you were right. I’m clearly staying in tonight 🍷

When you get back to the couch, nuzzling yourself back under your blankets, you look over your shoulder and out the window at his house. There are a few lights on and the cat’s silhouette has disappeared from the window.

You decide to save his number quickly before finally taking a few sips of your wine. 

Jake - Neighbor

8:13pm: Likewise. I’m about to take an edible and spend the rest of my romantic evening falling down a youtube wormhole. 

Laughing, you think of something clever to send back. It takes a while because everything you come up with seems to be toeing the line of flirty and friendly. 

You

8:17pm: Sounds fun... If you open your curtains a little more I could probably watch along. 🙂

Jake - Neighbor

8:20pm: Or you could accompany me down said wormhole, meaning we both won’t have to lie about being alone on Valentine’s day tomorrow?

You’re immediately conflicted. This guy is your neighbor, and although he seems friendly, this feels like the beginning of a terrible Hallmark movie or even worse, one that went straight to Netflix. You think about the invitation as you stare at your glass of wine on the coffee table next to your kindle. It couldn’t hurt to just go hang out for a little while… right? It would be good to get to know him. Maybe you could convince him to mow your lawn over the summer or something.

Not to mention he’s cute. Your mind flashes back to the way he looked glowing under the streetlights, his messy bun and the tan line on his hips that you need to stop thinking about before your mouth begins to water. 

You

8:21pm: Lol are you serious? I don’t want to intrude 

You bite at your lip nervously, waiting for him to reply. The little bubbles that indicate he’s typing make your stomach churn as you look over your shoulder and out the window once more. There’s a little bit of a glow coming from the other side of his house now and you see his shadow move across the window.

Jake - Neighbor

8:22pm: It’s not intruding if I’m inviting you. 

It doesn’t take much convincing on his end, if any. You down the last of your wine for courage and ditch the blanket on the couch. Heading up the stairs, you grab the cardigan you left hanging over the banister and pick out something to wear. The matching jammies clearly aren’t appropriate, but you don’t want to dress like you’re trying too hard. 

You

8:25pm: Should I bring anything?

Standing in your closet for a few minutes, you ultimately land on a pair of yoga pants and an old t-shirt, a soft baby blue Rush tee with the band’s name spelled out in big, rainbow bubble letters. It was once your dad’s, but lives in your wardrobe as a slightly cropped version now.

Jake - Neighbor

8:26pm: Nope. Just yourself. Need the address? 😉

Pulling on the cardigan, you tug the back of it down a little to assure you’re not showing up with your ass on display from the get-go. You stand at the door with nothing but your phone and keys, bracing yourself for however this Valentine’s night is about to go.

You

8:28pm: I think I remember how to get there. I’m on my way 🙂

—

You pull your sleeves down over your hands as you climb the steps to his porch, the freezing cold wind whipping through your cardigan as if it wasn’t even there. You rap your knuckles against the wooden door, a small wave of nerves rushing through your body as you wait for him to answer. You hear his footfall against the wooden floors as he makes his way to the door, and as he opens it you feel a rush of warmth as the heat from inside blows past you. 

His eyes subconsciously look you over and as he realizes he pulls his eyes away, letting them dart around for a few seconds before landing on your face. He offers a shy grin and swallows down his nerve. “Any trouble finding the place?” he jokes, giving you a small glimpse of his real smile. 

“Oh yeah, traffic was awful...” you quip back, watching his full smile bloom across his face. 

“Come in, come in. I know it’s cold out there.” he says, ushering you inside. The house is very different from the last time you’d seen it. More art on the walls, a new rug or two, and most importantly there were lights on. A fire is going in the fireplace, the logs crackling drawing you into his home further.

“Your home is beautiful. I’m suddenly insanely jealous that I don't have a fireplace.” you smile, gesturing towards the beautiful brick hearth. 

“Thanks, I try to do what I can here and there. What’s a home if you can’t enjoy the time you spend in it…” he ponders, suddenly flicking his attention back to you. “I could…show you around if you want, it’s kind of a mess at the moment…” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his lips as his eyes scan the room. You can tell he is feeling put on the spot and your chest warms at his underlying hospitality. 

“That’s okay, I know you were totally not planning on having a guest.” you laugh, hoping to ease his anxiety. 

“Yeah, I’m not here too often, and when I am, things kind of get strewn around and forgotten. It’s actually a fluke that I’m here now. Which brings me back to the part about enjoying the house while I’m here.” he says, trying to unnecessarily justify his lived in space. 

Your mind wanders as you recall his empty driveway the past few weeks, and you try to piece together if you ever remember him mentioning what he does for work, or why he’s gone so often. You hardly ever see him coming and going, just the glow from his windows on rare occasions.

He pulls you from your thoughts and you refocus on him, realizing that he too, has changed into different clothes. He’s added a slightly wrinkled black button down shirt to a pair of equally as wrinkled khaki pants, rolled at the ankle. To anyone else this would seem like a strange choice to hang out on the couch, but on him it seemed fitting, almost like these were his relaxing clothes. 

“Can I get you anything to drink, or?” he asks, gesturing towards the kitchen, a tiny little sliver of his stomach peeking from beneath the frayed hem, showcasing an unseasonably dark tan.

“Sure, um I will take some water?” you squeak out, trying to pretend you weren’t just staring at his waist. 

“Okay, you can just… sit wherever. I'll be right back.” he says nodding towards the couch. He walks off into the kitchen as you venture into his living room, the fireplace providing the perfect ambience for such a cold night. His couch isn’t huge, but it does seem comfortable. A few throw pillows are tossed to one side, giving you the hint that he was previously occupying the other side. You move a few of the pillows towards the center and position yourself at the opposite side on the chaise lounge, as you let your eyes glance around the room. The walls are dark and covered with art, and bookshelves line most of the walls. A large TV sits just to the left of the fireplace, the video he was previously watching paused and awaiting his return. 

You relax into the couch cushions, closing your eyes and listening to the perfect crackling sound of the fireplace. The glass of wine from earlier is seeping into your bones and you’re suddenly feeling just a little bit more relaxed. Jake returns a few seconds later, offering you a glass filled to the brim with ice water. 

“I didn’t know if you wanted ice or not, so I just made it how I like it.” he says, falling back into his place on the couch. He tosses a few of the throw pillows between you, down onto the ground so that there is less of a barrier, before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. 

“Where’s your little kitty cat?” you ask, turning to face him. “Or did you find him a home after all…”

“Who? Ol’ Davy Jones?” he asks, an air of underlying affection in his tone. “Ahh, that little vagrant is around here somewhere. Truthfully, I just haven’t even had time to think about finding him a home.”

You smile because you can tell he is lying. “That’s funny, because it’s been what? Almost a year now?”

“Has it… Hmmm.” he says, staring off into space. “I’m sure he’ll be around, he’s a curious little thing.” 

“You know they say that you shouldn’t name pets that you don’t plan to keep…” you press, raising an eyebrow in challenge. 

“Well…” he pauses. You can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to piece together an excuse. “He wasn’t responding to ‘hey you feline’, so I was practically forced into giving him a name. You know how these things go. I really am going to find him a good home one of these days when I have the time.”

You nod your head with a smile, as he shakes his own head, stifling back a guilty grin. 

“So that is why he has a food bowl with his name on it, right?” 

“Aye, aye, what’s with the twenty questions, hm?” he barks, tossing a throw pillow towards you. You catch it and hug it to your chest, resettling into your place. 

“Oh, no reason. Just trying to get to know my neighbor and his cat, that’s all.” you say with a cheeky smile. 

“He’s not my cat. He just lives in my house.” he says finally, feigning arrogance. “Anyways, tell me about you…”

“Not a whole lot to know, I just moved here, well almost a year ago now, for work. I go to work, come home, watch trashy TV and cook, and sometimes on the weekends I catch some friends at the bar. I also occasionally feed my neighbor's cat. Oh, and spend most holidays alone, which is how I ended up here.” you laugh, not wanting to give too much away. 

“Well, I’m glad that you did, I’m rather enjoying having company for once. Listen, I was serious about the edible if you…” he trails off, nervously licking over his lips.

“Oh, yeah of course. Let’s do it.”

He stands from the couch, walking across the room and rummaging around in a backpack on the floor. The first thing he pulls out is an eyeglass case, tucking it under his arm. Then he reaches back in, searching for a moment more, before he pulls out a small black bag and returns to the couch, opening it up as he sits. He places the black glasses case on the table, then picks it up again, making sure there are actually glasses inside before closing it and putting it aside for later.

“Oh Jesus, Josh…” he mutters under his breath. He licks his lips and turns to look at you. “Okay, so, apparently they are peach ring gummies. My brother gave them to me, but didn’t specify the variety.”

“That’s actually fine, I love peach rings.” you blush. 

“Really? Okay, good. I thought–” he stops himself with a smile. “Okay, ladies first, how much do you want?

“Um, how much are you gonna have?” you ask, letting your eyes flick up to his. 

“Dunno…” he says, inspecting the bag for the details. “Okay, probably half. You think you can do half, or do you want a quarter?”

“I think it should be an even playing field, I’ll do half if you do half.” you answer. 

“Whatever you say…” he says with a smile, trying to pull apart the sticky yellow and orange gummy. It stretches beyond belief and he stops. “Okay, so. I think you’re going to have to bite it.”

“Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly. 

“Yeah, it’s no big deal, you just take half and I’ll take the rest.” he says, leaning over to place it in your hand. You bring it to your lips, biting half of the gummy with your eyes locked on him. He doesn’t dare blink as he watches your mouth, the sugar crystals collecting on your lips. You see him swallow as you pull it from your lips and hand the remainder back to him. He quickly pops it into his mouth and starts to chew. 

Both of you look at each other as you swallow it down, sour looks on both of your faces as the flavor of the strain shines through. 

“That was… not my favorite gummy I’ve ever had.” he winces, clearing his mouth of the flavor. 

“I think it was okay…I’ve definitely had worse.” you laugh, taking a sip from your glass of water. 

“I can’t believe I traded my good blunts for that.” he says, thinking back with a shake of his head. “So, what do you think we should watch? A movie? A TV show? Youtube?” he rattles off. 

“What would you watch if I wasn’t sitting here right now?” you ask, leaning your body into the arm rest. 

His demeanor quickly changes, his cheeks blushing and his tone growing a bit bashful. “If you weren’t here? Um, probably just youtube videos.” he answers, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. 

“Okay, but what kind of youtube videos? What fascinates you…”

He fidgets with the buttons on the remote, trying to decide if he should lie or be honest. His eyes flick up to the TV, then over to you. “Mostly history stuff, like old shipwrecks and stuff. Or maybe sailing videos or guitar videos, I don’t know.”

You can tell he chose to be honest, his fingers still scratching at the buttons on the remote as he waits to see what you’re going to say. 

“Okay so do it. Show me your favorite shipwreck. Enlighten me a little…”

“Really?” he asks, a look of shock painted across his face. 

“Yeah, why not? I like that kind of stuff too. It’s interesting.”

“Yeah, yeah it is really interesting. Okay, hold on.” he grins, clicking the remote to life and returning to youtube. He scrolls to his favorites and makes his way through what has to be a hundred videos, until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Alright, I know this is a little bit boring at the beginning, but I swear it gets better. I actually learned about this first hand at this little museum in the UK last year, and I really fixated on it, and had to immediately consume every piece of media I could find about it. If you hate it we can turn it off, it’s just… really cool if you can make it through it.” he explains, and you smile watching his eyes light up talking about it. 

You smile and nod as he clicks on the video titled, ‘Ghosts of the Mary Rose’. He settles back into the couch, balancing the remote on his knee, and slinging his arm across the back of the couch. You can’t help but notice the proximity of his fingertips as they rest just inches away from your shoulder. The fireplace is still roaring, and the edible is starting to kick in, and you come to terms with the fact there is no place you’d rather be than sitting here learning about this old boat.

Oddly enough, Jake wasn’t wrong. This was one of the cooler shipwrecks you’d learned about, and the fact that he saw it in person made it even better. He proceeded to talk through most of the video, further extrapolating on the points they were making, but explaining them better, in a way that was so purely Jake. 

It was clear history was a passion of his, his eyes simply glowing with pride as he spoke about what he knew about this wreck and others similar. You could tell that he was dying for someone, just anyone, to ask him a single question about it, and tonight, you gave him that and more. 

You wondered if he had people in his life that indulged him on this regularly, or if he kept it bottled up inside. The way he spoke about it so quickly, stumbling over his words just to get them out, had you thinking that maybe it was the latter, and you suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him ever feeling lonely. 

After what had to be an hour or so, the gummy had met its full potential in your bloodstream. The two of you sat almost mute, staring at the TV screen as he selected videos for you to dive into, but little did he know that it wasn’t the TV you were fixated on. It was the glaring image of his hands as they reflected into the mirror hanging over his fireplace. You watched as they moved, the way his fingers wielded the remote, and the way his fingers would twitch every so often, quickly stifled back by the folding of his hands. You stopped yourself from turning your head to look at them, knowing that if you did you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away. 

They seemed large. Slightly larger than the average man’s hands, but they also seemed well manicured. Perfectly manicured actually, as if they were his top priority in his grooming habits. His nails were perfectly trimmed, no nicks or cuts, just perfectly tanned hands that tapped away against his thighs. You pulled your eyes away from the mirror to reach for your water, the dry mouth starting to take effect. 

You drank down half of the glass, and you could almost feel his eyes on you as you did so. You placed the glass back down, and allowed yourself one look at him, finding that you were correct in the feeling of his eyes fixed on you. His entire mood had shifted, you could tell he was feeling completely relaxed as he lounged on his couch. His eyes were a little red, slightly droopier than usual, and his cheeks flushed pink. His legs were crossed on the coffee table, and his bare foot bobbed along to the sound of the video playing in the background. 

You’re not sure if it's the fireplace, the edible, or the man sitting next to you devouring you with his eyes, but you start to feel warm and need to remove your sweater before you burst into flames. You pull the knitted fabric over your arms, and toss it to the floor, leaving you in just your cut off tee, and you swear you see his eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of your torso.

In the silence, you hear a faint jingling. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do, and your eyes shoot to the entryway. His cat trots into the room, probably only expecting Jake, but as soon as he lays eyes on you, he puffs up and hops straight up into the air, then bolts back the way he came, his paws skittering across the floor in a flurry.

The sound makes Jake’s head turn, pulling his eyes from your body and over towards the source of the noise.

“Oh my god, he’s real…” You say in amazement, a smile creeping onto your lips. Jake rolls his eyes at the cat’s dramatics, leaning back to see if he can catch where he went.

“Daaaavvvyyyy…” he calls out in a faux-cockney accent, his voice low and gravelly, rumbling through the house. You would be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“He’s not a fan of me, I don’t think.” You comment, looking in the direction the tiny black cat ran. 

“Don’t think he likes anyone but me, honestly. Bites and scratches the absolute hell out of my brother’s girlfriend whenever she watches him for me.” He says with a chuckle, craning his neck to try and see the cat. He makes a quiet pspspsps sound, but Davy is nowhere to be seen or heard.

“When I found ‘em, he was under a dumpster behind a… a bar.” He says, sitting back up to look at you. “He was practically shouting at me as I walked by, like he was calling for help. So I walked over thinking it was like, a fuckin’ baby or something. I don’t know.”

You grin as he tells the story, which you’re finding quite endearing. 

“He called you over? Oh, he’s bold.” 

“Sure is. So I wrapped him up in my shirt and put him in the passenger seat… he seemed too little to eat the crunchy little cat food, so I went to the store and got some milk… I didn’t fuckin’ know what to do.” He chuckles and itches his nose, his eyes flicking to yours as he realizes you’re invested in the story and listening with bated breath. 

“We got home and he drank some… had a little milk mustache and everything. He seemed to feel better when I got him into the heat, so I made him a deal. He could sleep in the bathroom for the night if he hit the road and left town the next morning.”

“I see that worked out.” You quip, giving him a knowing smile.

“Yeah, the five-pound rapscallion didn’t hold up his end. Owes me a thousand souls now.” 

You hum with raised brows as you nod, letting him go on. 

“I actually…” he starts, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket he taps and scrolls as he talks. “I actually woke up the next morning and caught the poor thing asleep in a pair of me old dirty trousers.” He says, a little bit of that accent slipping in again. He turns his phone around and shows you a photo of Davy curled into a tiny ball inside a pair of patchwork denim pants, a few different shades of blue.

“Oh my god…” you mumble, popping out your bottom lip.

“Lookit his tail over his nose. How was I supposed to show ‘em the door?” He says, flashing you a grin. 

“But you’re still gonna rehome him, huh?” You shoot in his direction, your tone accusatory.

“Should we watch something else? Got any requests?” he asks, gesturing toward the TV with the remote.

“Mmm, you said you liked guitar videos, right? What’s your favorite guitar video of all time?” you ask, crossing your ankles as you stretch out on the chaise. 

“That is quite the loaded question, lass.” he quips, tapping the remote to his lips. His full, pink, totally kissable lips. Wait, he’s your neighbor. You have to stop. 

“Can you narrow it down to a genre?” he asks, flicking his eyes over to you. He takes a deep breath and bites his lips together waiting for your answer. 

“How about…I don’t know, rock? Rock n’ Roll, specifically.” you smirk. 

“I know a thing or two.” he chuckles, scrolling through his favorites. 

“Ahh, okay this one. This one right here. This man was instrumental in my–” he stops, clearing his throat. “He is one of the greatest musicians I’ve ever witnessed.” he finishes.

“Oh, who is it?” you ask, watching him select the video. 

“Pete Townshend.” he answers, starting the video. “He is an incredible guitarist, but that isn’t what makes him great in my opinion. He has this special ability to write insanely powerful rock songs where the guitar isn’t the main focus, or even the main instrument. His work with The Who is just… He isn’t flashy just for the show of it, because he didn’t have to be. His skill speaks for itself and that in itself is an accomplishment.”

“Wow, you know a lot about him. Would you say he is your favorite, then?” you ask. 

“Ahh, I don’t know. I have a lot of favorites. A lot of influences I suppose. Lots of people who shaped me.” he answers, and slowly but surely you start to realize he is letting you know him more and more with each passing second, and you’re hanging on his every word. 

“Shaped you?” you ask, trying to squeeze yourself through the tiny crack in his armor. 

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. You need anything while I’m up?” he says, standing up slowly and effectively shutting you out. His half smile is a little guilty, which tells you he’s well aware of what he just did. 

“I’m okay.” You answer, giving him a knowing smile as he shuffles out of the room, the sound of his bare feet on the hardwood the only sound under the music playing quietly from the tv.

It’s a minute or two before he gets back and this time when he comes to sit on the couch, he lays across the cushions on his stomach, grabbing the pillow to your left and tucking it between his arm and his head. He’s so, so close to you now, the smell of his shampoo making its way over to you when he nuzzles his head against the pillow. Once he’s completely comfortable, he takes a deep breath and then speaks softly.

“I’m a musician. So. When I said ‘shaped me,’ I meant it almost literally.” His voice sounds a little different when his cheek is smushed into the throw pillow.

“So I’m guessing you play guitar?” you say, blinking up at the TV as the man on the screen’s fingers crawl across the frets.

“I do.” He says it simply, but not in a way that’s short. You look down at his right hand, bent at the elbow and holding on to the pillow. At this distance, you can see there’s a little indent around his middle finger, like he wears a ring of some sort.

“I don’t really have any… creative talents. So I think that’s really impressive.” Your words are quiet and you’re trying to coax him back out of his shell. He lifts his head from the pillow, and when he’s looking up at you from below, his glassy brown eyes are enough to make your heart melt. You have to blink a few times through the brain fog to really focus on them, and when you do, your pulse quickens.

“I’m sure that’s not true. What do you do?” He asks softly, and luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re staring at him.

“It’s very true. I’m an accountant.” You answer, laugh bubbling out of you at the absurdity of it all. “Literally the opposite of creative.” 

He breaks into a grin, laughing with you for a second or two, and you think it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“...Alright. You got me there. We can watch something else…” He says, looking for the remote, and you mourn the loss of eye contact. 

“No, no! I wanted you to pick something you’d watch even if I wasn’t here, and you did. Plus, I kinda like your commentary. This stuff is all new to me.” You say, and he chuckles softly. He rests his head on the pillow again, his arm grazing yours unintentionally. He pays it no mind.

“If you say so.” 

After another two videos accompanied by Jake’s narration, you find yourself so hungry, you think you might be withering away. When there’s a lull in his commentary, you whisper into the dim room from behind him. 

“Is it normal to feel like I need a snack so urgently I might pass away?” 

He stretches a little, rolling over to look at you again. You give him a slow smile, your eyes squinting as your cheeks push them closed. 

“I can go see what I have… It’s been a minute since I’ve been home but there’s probably–”

“No!” You interject, sitting up a little more. He jumps at the motion, a little startled. “I have this tray of chocolate covered strawberries in my fridge! My coworker called in today, and her boyfriend sent her like two dozen of them, so obviously I brought them home.” 

“Oh hell yeah.” He answers, smiling back at you. 

“I’ll be right back!” You say excitedly, hopping off the couch and swiping your keys off the table. You quickly slip on your shoes and head for the front door, darting out into the cold night. 

It’s not long before you’re kicking the refrigerator door shut and sneaking back out into the windy February air. As you cross the street you see his door open, and once you’re close enough, you duck inside. He takes the box from you right away as he shuts the door.

After putting it down on the table near his front door, he reaches for your bare arms, rubbing them to warm you up. He laughs softly as you smile up at him.

“You didn’t bring your sweater, you absolute maniac…” he chides playfully, and you laugh in response, a chill running up your spine. His hands are so warm and his presence so comforting that you find yourself resisting the urge to wrap yourself up in him.

“I didn’t think it would be that cold.” you mumble, trying to keep your teeth from chattering.

“Oh, you thought the cold snap had just let up suddenly?” he asks with a sarcastic inflection, and you roll your eyes with a smile as he lets go of your arms. “Figured it was probably a cozy 27 degrees instead of 22?” 

You pick the strawberries back up and walk past him, back toward the living room to take your seat again. Before you can offer him a snarky retort, he’s quickly heading up the stairs of his old house, taking them two at a time as they creak and crack. Footsteps sound from above you, moving in one direction and then the other, before he’s coming back down slower than he had ascended. When he appears in the entryway of the living room, he’s holding the biggest, plushest navy blue down comforter you’ve ever seen in both of his arms. He’s peeking over and around it as he navigates behind the coffee table, careful not to trip or bump into something. 

“What’s all this?” You ask, laughing at the sight before you as you sit criss-crossed on the chaise, the container of strawberries still sitting in your lap, uneaten. 

“The comforter from my bed, obviously.” He answers, snatching the berries from you once more and putting them on the coffee table. You groan, but it’s short lived, as he drops the entire giant comforter overtop of you. He arranges it to wrap you inside of it, letting your head peek out. He tucks it under your thighs and tugs it closed across your chest. 

“Thank you,” you mumble through a tight-lipped smile, finding him a little ridiculous, but also thoughtful and sweet. He plops down next to you, sitting similarly to you with his legs crossed, the box of strawberries between you. He opens them and offers you one by the stem, which you graciously accept. 

You take a bite, quickly moving your hand under your chin to catch any of the chocolate cracking and falling. You moan a little at the taste, smiling at him when his eyes cut to yours. 

He takes a bite of his own, his approach for avoiding a mess a little different than yours. His bite is so big that it takes him a while to chew through it, eventually speaking with some still in his mouth. 

“I don’t know who the fuck decided these are supposed to be a romantic food.” He has a little bit of chocolate in his mustache and you can’t help but giggle, his tongue quickly darting out to lick it. “I’ve never had a more difficult time eating anything in my goddamn life.” He says, a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.

You’re so far under the influence and feeling so content from finally getting your hands on the sweets you were craving, all you can do is giggle in response. It’s the kind of giggle that lingers, when the joke is probably forgotten. He’s watching you with one raised brow as you cover your mouth and try to stop it. 

He eventually joins you, unable to resist the contagious, almost delusional snickering coming from you under the giant blanket across from him. It’s a sweet, silly moment, and it feels effortless. You spend the next few minutes chewing and laughing and stealing glances at him in secret. The edible has you at a point where you’re not sure if you’re speaking out loud or thinking the words in your head. So then, the question you’re considering asking him just slips out. 

“Why are you so tan in February?” You laugh, realizing it was a little forward of you to just ask out of nowhere. Luckily, you’re met with a stoned giggle of his own before he swallows and answers.

“I… went to a music festival in South America last week.” He says, eyes flicking up to yours, almost like he’s trying to see if you believe him.

“See anyone good?” You pry, your cheeks a little flushed the more you stare at him and catalog his mannerisms.

“Nobody you’d know.” He says, and you take him at his word. He smiles reassuringly, even though you don’t believe him, and it makes you giggle some more.

Eventually, it settles down and it’s just occasional quiet laughs cutting through the quiet of the room. He reaches for another strawberry and you realize it’s a little too quiet. You turn your head towards the tv, the last video having ended, and the countdown to the next one descending from 15. You squint your eyes a little to see what’s about to play next.

Rig Rundown: Greta Van Fleet [2021] is the title. But what really throws you is the thumbnail. The image is an older guy with coiffed silver hair, smiling and pointing at… Jake? He’s got a smug smile on his face, an arm on this other guy’s shoulder, and his hair down, which you think you’ve seen only once. He’s in a navy blue blazer with a hand on his hip, a guitar hanging across the front of his body. 

“...Is that you?”

10…9…8…

“Huh?” Jake says as he looks up at you from the box of strawberries, his mouth full, a stem pinched between his two fingers. He sees where you’re looking and follows your gaze towards the TV as it counts down. 

7…6…5…

“Oh, fuck–” 

You quickly grab the remote control from the end of the coffee table, trying to find the OK button so it will start playing sooner. Jake panics, tossing the carton of berries onto the table with reckless abandon. He lunges towards you, so you hide the remote inside the comforter along with as much of yourself as you can.

“No!” He shouts playfully, grabbing at the blanket and trying to unravel you. He kneels on the edge of the chaise, knocking you over and trying to get to your hands and arms under the layers and layers of soft, fluffy blankets.

“You have… to let… me watch it!” You argue with a laugh, avoiding his grasp. You finally decide to raise the remote all the way over your head, almost over the edge of the couch. He leans forward over top of you, his weight balanced on his palm next to your head.

“Hand it over.” He says, attempting to be stern, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips. A little jingle begins to play, and you can’t see the screen, but you’re positive the video is starting. You adjust the remote in your hand and crank the volume as he stares down at you. His eyes linger on your lips, then your eyes, then your lips again. His stare is only broken when he realizes it’s getting louder. A riff starts to fill the room, a song you can’t say you’ve ever heard before, and he huffs, reaching for the remote again.

You’re a little distracted watching him on the screen over his shoulder, his long hair and unbuttoned shirt and the way his hands look wrapped around the neck of the guitar. He snatches the remote from you with an extra stretch of his arm and you giggle softly. “Oh my god…” 

“Hey, hey! I’m John from Premier Guitar, and I’m here with Jake Kiszka from–”

Jake pauses the video, falling back into his seat on the couch. His head lolls to the side and he looks at you with a playful, annoyed glare. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why the hell are you doing guitar interviews?”

“I told you I’m a musician.” He says, a little short, lifting the remote to exit the video.

“No, no, wait!” You plead, reaching for his forearm to lower it. “Just let me watch, like, a minute.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “If you don't, I'll just go home and watch it anyway.” 

He groans, mumbling a barely there “fine,” begrudgingly before pressing play and letting the guy continue.

“Greta Van Fleet! Jake, congratulations! Since I last saw you, you won a grammy! Or two grammys?” 

“Yeah, one…” 

“You have a fucking GRAMMY?” You exclaim as the video continues to play. You turn and look at him, but his eyes are on the screen, squinting with what you can tell is embarrassment. 

“Are you gonna talk through your allotted one minute of watching or what?” He says, giving you a little warning look. You grin, turning your attention back to the screen. As the guy goes on and on, you realize this isn’t the part you want to watch. 

“Can we skip past this guy? He talks a lot. This is not how I want to use my minute.” You bargain, and he just offers you the remote silently with a smirk. 

You fast forward a little until you see he’s about to play. It’s a few seconds of him playing something else you’ve never heard, and then he speaks.

“It’s hotter, it’s a bit hotter…”

You smirk with wide eyes, looking at him in your peripherals.

“Shut up.” He says, closing his eyes like he simply can’t watch any more. You laugh at his dramatics, and when he hears it he can’t help but crack a smile. His cheeks are rosy and you look back at the screen, eyes trying to decide on what part of him to land on. 

“This guy…” You start, shaking your head a little.

“He’s a bit much.” Jake says, looking over at you with a half smile. 

“He’s so sweaty!” You add, laughing through your words. 

He lets you watch for more than a minute. He makes a few comments, scoffing at himself, even running his hand over his face a few times. You can tell it’s a little painful for him, but you’re in your glory. You reach for another strawberry as you look over at his embarrassed face.

“So this is why you’re never here…” you say, turning the volume down a little. “And the music festival…”

“Yep. That would be the reason.” He says softly, sniffing a little as he watches. You turn to look at him and his eyes flick up to yours, his gaze traveling straight to your lips. There's a flicker in his eyes, and you hardly comprehend that his hand is moving towards your face. You feel his thumb swipe softly against your bottom lip, a tiny smear of chocolate on the tip of his digit. Your tongue immediately licks over the place his thumb was, tasting the sugary sweetness of the chocolate that was once there. He places his thumb between his lips, licking the chocolate from his own finger, while his eyes stay locked on yours. 

“Somehow, it’s even sweeter.” he breathes letting his hand drop from his lips. He settles back into the couch cushions resting his head on his hand as he looks at you. You can hardly pull your eyes away from his as your heart races in your chest, the video in the background long forgotten. 

“Tell me why you’re alone on Valentine’s day…” he murmurs, his pink lips barely parting to let the words escape.

“You tell me why you are…” you counter, blinking slowly as you stare at him.

He bites his lips together as he tosses around the words in his head. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he starts to speak. “Well, to be honest… I’ve had trouble finding someone that can live with the burden of my lifestyle. It’s a lot to ask of someone. ”

“Burden?” you ask. 

“Yeah, that’s the word that always gets thrown around when things go south. And they’re not wrong I suppose. I know that I’m gone more than I’m home. Even you know that.” He says with a humorless chuckle. “Half the time I don’t know the next time that I’ll be home and get to sleep in my own bed. So naturally that sort of…uncertainty doesn’t lend well to relationships. Of any kind really…” he pauses, letting out a sigh. “It’s hard to find, let alone keep, any type of meaningful connection… Especially when I’m halfway around the world. But I swear it’s not for lack of trying on my end. It’s just one of those things that comes with the job whether you want it or not.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling your heart breaking for him. If you weren’t sure before, you are positive now that he is just a little more lonely than he is willing to let on.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here now. We’re supposed to be traveling to New York right now. Though, everything happens for a reason I guess.” he says, offering you a little smirk as he brushes his hand over top of yours. “Now, your turn. Tell me why such an intriguing woman is all alone on the most romantic day of the year…”

You pull the fluffy blanket up a little further onto your lap, toying with the hem as you look up at him. “I haven’t really dated anyone since I moved here. I thought I would but, I just…haven’t. I thought that once I was settled into a good routine at work I could spend a little more time meeting people, but every time I go out I’m suddenly surrounded by twenty other girls who are by modern standards perfect, and I just don’t even stand a chance against them, you know?” you pause, letting your fingers roll over the stitching on the edge of the duvet. “I don’t look like them, and I never will. So I just work a lot, hang out with my friends when I can, and have zero expectations of ever being the person that is going to stand out in a crowd like that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, suddenly feeling stupid for telling this stranger your secrets. 

“You couldn't be more wrong.” he breathes, letting his arm fall against the back of the couch. There’s an air of demand in his voice as he speaks. His hand swipes the hair away from your face, letting his fingers brush your jawline. “You’re prettier than all of them. And smarter, and funnier. They have nothing on you. I’d pick you…In a crowd.”

“You don’t have to just say that to try and make me feel better. It’s okay, really.” you say dismissively.

“I’m not just saying that, Y/N. I mean it. You’re so pretty, and you’re so quick witted, and you listen to me talk about stuff no one else cares about...Shit, I can’t think of one person I know that would have sat through even the first video, let alone let me talk through the entire thing. I’m having one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, with you.” he urges, settling his hand loosely on the curve of your neck. His skin is warm against yours, and you can smell the remnants of the cologne he likely sprayed on his wrist this morning as it wafts towards your nose. 

You laugh softly, suddenly feeling shy as he compliments you. You lean into him without even noticing, your eyes closing as you breathe him in. The cushion dips as he leans towards you, meeting you where you were and pressing his lips to yours almost tentatively. His fingers grip into your neck as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. If the gummy didn’t already have you feeling floaty, you were sure you’d be feeling it now. He pulls away from you and a small whimper leaves your mouth at the loss of his warmth. His hand slides down your neck and over your shoulder, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. With his other hand, he picks up the remote and hits pause, not wanting the video to carry on in the background of what you think is about to be another kiss. 

“C’mere…” he growls, holding a hand out to you. You tuck your feet underneath yourself in an attempt to push up onto your knees, feeling slightly off-kilter. You grip his hand a little tighter as you reach for his shoulder, moving slowly until you’re straddling his lap. He positions your legs on either side of him, making sure you’re comfortable, and taking the opportunity to run his hands over your thighs. You rest your hands on his chest for some stability, your head in the clouds. His hands immediately find their way back to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you in and kisses you again,though this time there is a little more urgency behind it. You slide your hands up and over his shoulders, letting your fingers weave into his hair, grabbing a handful of the chestnut locks and gripping it in your fists. He tilts his head back slightly in response. 

“Oh, fuck.” he groans. He looks at you with his head tilted back, his lids heavy, a barely-there crooked smile on his face. He’s such a sight with his dark eyes and pink lips, you think you might burst on the spot. You know you need to kiss him again, but you also want to hear him moan and curse again, and his exposed throat is calling to you.

Leaning down, you place a kiss to his jaw, the skin soft and warm. You feel like you’re in the passenger seat as someone else, a bolder and less inhibited version of yourself, calls the shots. One minute, you’re thinking about how the textured skin of his throat feels against your cheek, then then the next, you’re kissing and licking at it without a second thought. You feel his skin buzz under your lips as he whines, the taste of his skin and cologne mixed together so good you’re certain you’ll never be able to forget it. 

You feel yourself melting into him, your tongue pulling the delicate skin over his clavicle into your mouth as you suck and bite softly without any consideration for the fact that he probably shouldn’t be covered in love bites. When you lift your head, he’s got his own resting on the back of the couch, his eyes closed, his brows knitted together as you shower him in searing kisses.

Sitting up, you lean over him again for another kiss, this time taking it upon yourself to deepen it, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip as you lace your hands in his hair again, taking a bit of control. You feel him shudder beneath you, his hips bucking up in response. His tongue slides into your mouth and you can taste the lingering flavor of the tequila he was no doubt drinking prior to your arrival mixed with a hint of chocolate. His hands travel down your body, sliding underneath the hem of your shirt. He stops as his hands wrap around your waist, his thumbs swiping over your skin. You lean into his grip, feeling him pull you down onto his groin as his teeth nip at your lips now. 

You know that both of you are still feeling the effects of the gummy and there isn’t a shred of inhibition between the two of you. You release your grip on his hair and let your hands trail down the open buttons of his shirt, feeling the chest you’ve stared at all night beneath your fingertips. You slide them further down, letting your fingers toy with the remaining buttons, waiting to see if he will stop you, but when he doesn’t, you finish the job and push his shirt open completely. A silver necklace rests between his pecs, and you smile recognizing the coin as one of the artifacts you saw in one of the videos from earlier in the night. 

His mouth is like velvet on yours and you can’t help but to want more of him. You roll your hips against him, feeling him growing beneath you and spurring you on even more. Another groan leaves his mouth, his lips vibrating on yours. His hands move up a little further, his thumbs just dusting the underside of your bralette. You can tell he’s doing his best to be respectful, but you simply cannot wait another second to feel his hands on your body. 

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it to the side. He swallows thickly as his eyes roam over you, his lips parting as he looks you over. His mind is struggling to keep up with the pace things are moving. He hums in approval as he runs a calloused fingertip over your navel, which pulls a lazy smile from you. Jake chuckles in response, now moving his hands to rest at your shoulders before pulling you down closer to him so he can press a wet kiss to your collarbone. His lips trail down your skin until they reach the fullness of your chest, and with his eyes now locked on yours, he sucks a hot, audible kiss into the rounded skin.

Your eyes flutter closed as his tongue swipes against your skin, simultaneously feeling his fingers pull the bralette straps down over your shoulders. With the extra support gone the cups fall slightly, revealing a little more of your chest to him. You grab his hands and pull them to your chest, giving him the green light to take things a little further. 

“God, you’re stunning.” he mumbles breathlessly, gripping into your tits as you roll your hips against him. You lean forward to press your lips to his again, licking into his mouth as his hands move to circle around your back, resting just at the base of your back. He presses you closer as you roll into him again, this time feeling his fully hard cock pressed against your core. He hooks a finger into one side of your bralette, freeing your nipple. He leans forward and takes into his mouth, sucking softly. You groan at the feeling, a breath of air leaving his mouth as you drag across the length of him. He pulls you closer, dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud as mewls fall from your lips. You usually aren’t as affected by something so routine in foreplay, but all of your senses are heightened and you think you could probably cum from the feeling of his mouth spoiling you with kisses and bites combined with how hard he is between your thighs.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still glassy and blown out. “I promise this isn’t what I intended when I invited you over...” he breathes, his thumbs swiping against your back as he licks his lips, his blinks slow and lazy. 

“I know…” you answer with a bashful smile and lidded eyes, staring into his brown irises. “But it feels too good to stop.” 

“Yeah,” he says, more of a breath than a word. “I want you so fucking bad right now.” he adds, a smirk pulling across his lips as he makes the move to roll you to your back on the chaise of the couch. You're giggling as he’s now hovering over you, similarly to how he was earlier, only this time you know he’s going to kiss you and you don’t have to wish for it. He makes quick work of his shirt, pulling his arms from the sleeves and tossing it to the other side of the room. Your head is positively spinning, the room around you seems like a blur and the only thing in focus is him.

He runs a finger over your chest, hooking into the fabric of your bralette. “Take this off for me, sweetheart. Show me.” he mumbles, his lazy eyes slowly raking over every inch of you, needing more.

You practically burst into flames, rushing to pull the fabric over your head. Now completely exposed to him, his eyes flick down to your chest as he bites his lips together. He pulls back again, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down for some relief. He swallows harshly, letting his eyes meet yours again. You reach your hand up and hook it around his neck, pulling his face down to yours. You press your lips to his and he lowers himself down to his elbows, deepening the kiss as his body lays on top of yours. 

You let your free hand circle around his back, your fingers following the contours of his waist, dipping down to his spine as you run the length of his back. He groans at the feeling of your nails against his skin, and you find yourself wondering if he’s usually this vocal or if the high he’s experiencing has lowered his guard. 

He shoots up, turning his head around to look at the TV, muttering something under his breath as he grabs the remote from the other side of the couch. He exits the video and you giggle, realizing it was paused on a still of his brother, you assume, in the middle of talking with his hands, sitting behind a keyboard. He tosses the remote to the coffee table, leaning back down over you with a smirk. “Sorry. I just think three’s a crowd.” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away from your lips leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, and over your sternum, stopping just shy of the top of your yoga pants. His eyes flick up to yours, and you offer him a shy nod, silently thanking yourself for that “everything” shower this morning. 

He kisses your stomach one more time before curling his fingers beneath the hem, sliding them slowly over your hips and down your legs before letting them fall softly to the floor. You lay there in just your panties, and you think he may notice that you’re feeling exposed as he quickly stands to kick off his pants. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the heavy outline of his dick, visible and straining against the black fabric of his boxers. 

His eyes flick to yours but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the tan line just above the elastic of his boxers, wanting more than anything to peel the black fabric from his hips. He kneels onto the chaise, settling himself between your legs and caging you between his arms. A few strands of his hair hang around his face, and his dark brown eyes are growing darker by the second. You bring your hand up to his stomach, letting your fingers sneak beneath the elastic of his boxers, sliding across the front of his waist causing him to clench up his stomach with a smile. 

“You ticklish?” you murmur, continuing to slide your fingers across his waistband. 

He drops his head to look at your hand in his boxers before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Not ticklish, just…sensitive…” he growls. You can tell that the gummy has made him a little more responsive to touch than he normally is.

His hips jolt forward on their own accord and you feel the brush of his dick against your fingers. He sucks in a harsh breath at the contact, his eyes connecting with yours. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you push your hand further inside, wrapping softly around his hardened length. A hiss leaves his mouth and he starts to breathe a little heavier as you squeeze around him. You slide your hand up and around the tip, rounding off at the end before sliding back down, watching his eyes flutter closed for the slightest second. 

“Fuck, wait…” he breathes, pulling back and taking a second to compose himself. He sits up a little more, hooking his fingers into your thong and pulling it swiftly down your legs. His eyes flick up towards the couch then back down the length of the chaise, “Move down a little for me, baby. Rest your feet on the floor. ” 

You quickly push yourself further down on the couch, letting your knees hang over the edge of the chaise until your feet meet the rug on the floor. He drops to his knees at the end of the chaise, running his warm hands up the length of your thighs. He kisses the inside of your thigh, humming in appreciation for the position he’d found himself in. 

He rests both of his hands on your hips, and as you look down at him, you see a faint silver scar up the length of his left arm. You wrap your hand around his forearm, feeling his veins pulsing against your palm.

His eyes meet yours as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds, hot and slow as you throw your head back into the couch cushion. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin pulling you closer as his lips suction over your clit. His tongue swipes against you again, flatter and with more pressure as you writhe beneath him. 

“Fuck…” he curses, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. “Had I known what I was missing…” he pauses to lick at you again. “I would have pulled you across the street months ago. You taste like heaven.”

You feel as if you’re floating on a cloud as you melt into his comforter, the warmth from the fireplace radiating across the room. A soft gasp falls from your lips as he laps at you, no urgency or strategy behind his method. He seems to just be enjoying himself, his eyes lifting to look at you, a little lazy, a little glassy. You shift underneath him slightly, but he’s not deterred. His mouth doesn’t leave you for even a moment, like you’re his only source of vitality in this very moment. 

You whine when you feel his tongue press to your entrance, and you feel the smile that pulls across his lips. Your hips buck up towards him, his nose brushing over your clit, sending you quickly towards a place you’re not quite ready to be yet. His tongue finds you again, pressing forward this time and entering just for a second before pulling back out. His lips suction over you again, and he shakes his head side to side, taking you to that place whether you’re ready or not.

“Jake…” you whine, sliding your hands into his hair.

“Mmm?” he hums into you, his eyes slowly opening to find yours, heavy with lust. 

“More…” you beg, shuddering the slightest bit as you see how dark his eyes have become.

He gives you one more slow, long lap of his tongue, like he’s savoring it and committing the taste of you to memory. He stands from where he was kneeling and taps your thigh gently, wordlessly telling you to shift back up on the chaise. You scoot backwards and he follows, nestling himself between your legs, propped up on his palm. With the hand he isn’t using for balance, he frees himself from his briefs. He strokes himself once, but then lets himself go and you feel him against you, his cock heavy and hard, landing on the inside of your thigh with the softest sound. He pulls back slightly and when he pushes his hips forward again, he’s sliding through your folds, slick and lewd. It makes your cheeks hot.

“You’re so fucking wet…” he grunts, his voice strained like he’s in pain. “Just wanna feel you for a second…”

He lowers himself to bury his face in your hair, his breath hot as he pants, gently rutting his hips against you, his thrusts a little uncoordinated and desperate. 

“Everything’s just so fucking sensitive.” he says, his now boyish voice cracking as it’s muffled by the pillow behind your head. He wraps his arms tightly around you and under you, like he’s worried you’re about to float away. “Feels so good.”

With a deep breath he releases you, sliding his hand down to fist his base. As he presses the tip to your entrance his eyes lock on yours, wordlessly asking if you’re ready, and when you nod he starts to press forward. His eyes flick down to your center, watching as he slides into you. The stretch is noticeable, but you welcome it. You want it. His eyes flutter closed for just a second and you feel him stop his movement, not pressing into you fully. 

“Fuck, give me a second.” he pants, his chest heaving. 

You feel him try to slide in a little more, but again he’s holding back. 

“I think– I think you’re gonna have to take the reins here.” he admits. 

“What do you mean…”

“If I move a single inch more I won’t–” he pauses, shaking his head as he blows out a breath. “I just need you to be on top.” 

His eyes are pleading, searching yours, and you can’t possibly fathom the idea of ever denying him. 

“I’ll make it worth your while.” he offers, and you can’t help but give him a little smirk, nodding. He withdraws and gives you a little space to get up, ditching his underwear before taking your place. You gingerly climb over him, taking a moment to brush one of the strands of hair that frames his face out of the way. He gives you a soft, lazy smile, his eyes barely open as he welcomes your gentle touch. 

His hand reaches between the two of you as he lines himself up, and you waste no time lowering yourself onto him, savoring how full he makes you feel. Intending to fly right out of the gates you lift your hips again, but he slowly settles you down, a soft hum rumbling through him. 

“That’s it. Yeah… Lean back for me?” he coaches, and you do as he asks without a second thought. His warm hand brushes down your abdomen until his thumb makes contact with your clit to rub gentle circles while his lidded eyes are open just a sliver to stare intently at where your bodies are meeting. His pink lips are parted slightly, his breathing shallow. You can’t help the wanton moan that escapes your throat at the sight paired with his careful touch.

“Rest your hands on my knees. I won’t let you fall.” he instructs, letting his free hand slide up your thigh. You do as he says, leaning back onto his knees, allowing you to take him a little deeper. “Just like that, baby. Fuck…” 

You roll your hips in figure eights, feeling him brush against that sensitive place inside you, eliciting a whine from your chest. 

“Yeah? Right there?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “You stay just like that. Let me take over.” 

He brings his foot up to rest on the cushion, giving himself a little more leverage. His hand firmly grips into your hip as he forcefully flicks his hips and fucks up into you. You gasp as he hits that spot, like he knew where it was the whole time. His thumb never relenting in its work on your clit.

“Yeah, damn. That’s it isn’t it, sweetheart? You feel so good like this... You just keep squeezin’ me, just like that.”

The force of his thrusts cause his silver chain to work its way up his body and into the crook of his neck. Your attention is quickly drawn to the metal coins rattling together with each thrust. 

“M’gonna cum…” you warn him so he can decide whether or not to back off, but he just groans and keeps his motions steady. You can’t breathe when it hits you, nor can you help the way you fall forward, gasping for breath. Steadying yourself with weak arms, you grasp at the plush comforter underneath him.

“Fuck me that’s tight,” he groans. “Fuck.” He grabs your wrists on either side of his head for leverage, thrusting up into you so hard you see stars. It’s like your vision goes white as your chest heaves and you meet your end, crying out a desperate wail of his name.

“Slow down for me now, baby.” he coos as you tremble and try to catch your breath. You nod, taking all of him slowly with each roll of your hips. Looking down at him, you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together. Something about the way he’s dewy with sweat, his chest rising and falling, his hair sticking to his face… It makes your head spin. You watch his stoned eyes rolling back each time you take him so deeply the head of his cock brushes against the deepest part of you and it’s almost too much to bear. 

He grips your hips suddenly, inhaling sharply. You freeze, knowing what he’s getting at, and you feel him twitch inside you. His brow is knitted up in concentration and a whine leaves his perfect, heart-shaped lips. 

“Goddamn… you feel too good. I can’t– I can’t hold it, fuck…” he babbles, his voice pitched higher than you’ve heard it all night. Before you can say a word, he continues on. 

“Can I do it inside? Please, baby, can I? Pl– oh, god, please? Wanna cum inside you so bad, so fucking bad… Can I? Baby–” 

“Do it.” you urge, desperate to give him anything he wants in this very moment. 

“Yeah?” he gasps. 

“Yeah, do it. Please. I need it…” you whine, squeezing him with everything you have one last time. 

“Oh fuck…” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you down and holds you in place as he pumps into you. “God damn, fuck me…” he cries out, grunting with each pulse inside you. His brows are furrowed and his eyes screwed shut before finally letting out a deep breath and slowing his hips. 

His chest is heaving and a sheen of sweat covers his tanned skin. His hand moves from your hips, swiping the sweaty hair from his forehead. You lift to your knees, knowing exactly why his eyes are still trained on the place the two of you meet. He wants to see his work.

As you lift up, you feel his release start to stream out of you and back down onto his cock. A huff of pride leaves his chest, his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip before biting it between his teeth. 

“Should we clean up?” he asks, watching the hot white streams drip down to his base. 

“I’m working on it...” you say softly, lifting off of him completely and dropping to your knees. You plant your hands on either side of his hips, arching your back and pressing your ass into the air as you lower your mouth over his cum covered cock. 

“Fuck…” he groans, watching your lips slide down his length.

Closing your lips over his base, you take him as far into your throat as you can, sucking his release from his skin as you work your way up, dragging your tongue over his every inch. You can feel him growing hard again as you reach the tip, lapping and circling your tongue around the sensitive skin. You drop down to his base again, but this time you feel his hand grip into your hair, holding you there as his hips jerk forward, propelling him further down your throat. 

“Look at me.” he demands, and you flick your watery eyes up to meet his. 

You gag around him and he releases your hair, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “Mmm…Yeah, fuck. We’re gonna revisit this...” he says, eyes fixed on you as you pull off of him with a pop. “Just needed to see how pretty you look with my cock down your throat.”

You can’t stop the tiny gasp that escapes you as you shoot him a playfully shocked grin. You blink once, raising your brows. 

“We have a lot to revisit. Where did that come from?” You ask through a laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He chuckles, handing you your shirt. 

“Sorry, sorry. The edible’s wearing off.” He says with a smirk, attempting to get himself off the couch. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Jake shows you to the bathroom, then disappears into his bedroom while you freshen up. When you emerge, re-dressed and significantly less sticky, he hears your footsteps and comes out to meet you in the hallway. The two of you smile at each other, feeling the THC and endorphins and feelings starting to settle like you’re standing in a snowglobe.

“I'm glad you came over. Sorry I Jake’d you for a few hours.” He says softly, and there’s some jingling coming from his bedroom, which is probably Davy annoyed that you’re still lingering in his house. Jake hears it, reaching behind him to close his bedroom door without looking away from you.

“Jake’d me? Please don’t tell me that’s what you call–”

“NO, no, no. Oh, no. Getting ‘Jake’d’ is what my family calls it when I corner one of them into talking to me for an extended period of time about something they don’t really care about in excruciating detail.” He explains like he’s reading the definition from a textbook, a charming smile on his face. He seems a little embarrassed but at the same time, he sees the humor in it.

“Well I had a really great time.” you answer genuinely, pushing your hair behind your ear. “You can Jake me whenever you want.” You joke, a laugh bubbling out of you. You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully and it coaxes a short, loud laugh out of him as well. 

“I just might take you up on that.” He says, and there’s a rosy tint to his cheeks even in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“You know where to find me...” 

As if he can tell you’re about to try and take your leave, he starts to walk past you and down the stairs. 

“...Have you ever watched those videos where they clean out old barns?”

–

The two of you ended up curled together on the chaise, tucked under his big comfy blanket. The exhaustion hits you all at once, and about 10 minutes in, you slip into a deep sleep, your head tucked into his shoulder, his arm around you, his hand gently scratching your scalp. 

Hours later, you wake up unsure where you are for a moment. As you shift a little, you feel there’s a heavy weight against you, which you soon realize is Jake’s leg. You’re no longer tucked underneath the giant duvet, a little sweaty, as Jake is asleep on his back. His hand is tucked into his sweatpants resting on his upper thigh, and you have to peel your eyes away once you spot the first sign of him half hard and half asleep. You can see his bold tan line and the slightest bit of hair through the gap he’s created. Sitting up, you try to search for a clock somewhere in the room or even your phone. Feeling around the chaise under you, you don’t find it. You look over on the other side of Jake hoping it’s there, but the only thing you find there is little Davy, curled into a ball and pressed against Jake’s back. 

Jake seems to feel you moving around and it wakes him, eliciting a raspy hum from his chest. He pulls you back in towards him, your back to his chest, and you feel him shaking his head against your shoulder.

“Morning,” you say through a breathy laugh, but at the sound of your voice, you hear the jingle of Davy’s collar and the tippy-taps of his feet as he runs as far away from you as humanly possible.

“Too early.” He grumbles, reaching blindly over his head to feel around for the curtains. When he doesn’t find them, he groans and gets up, tugging them closed tight. “Fuck. Slept with my contacts in.” He says, standing over you and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stretches his arms over his head, his tanline peeking out again, and you squeeze your eyes closed trying to keep your head on straight. He sighs deeply before sliding back onto the couch with you, pulling you tight to him. The two of you fall back asleep soon after, the only sound you hear is the clinking of Davy’s collar tag against his bowl and some quiet crunching.

–

When you wake again it’s from the feeling of Jake’s fingers moving against your hip. You stretch your legs out along the chaise, feeling the brush of his sweatpants against your legs. You roll your body towards him letting out a yawn. His eyes open, a little red from the dryness of sleeping with his contacts in, but as they fully open you’re once again pulled in by the dark brown irises. 

“Still too early?” you whisper, your morning voice thick with sleep. 

“Mmm, a bit, but I should probably get up. I’m sure my phone is just completely blown up by this point.” he groans, stretching his own legs out. “You sleep okay? We should’ve just moved to the bed earlier.”

“Actually this couch is pretty comfy, no complaints from me.” you smile, watching a grin spread across his own face. 

“Speaking of complaints, your snoring…” he trails off. 

“I don’t snore!” you admonish, playfully pushing off of his warm chest. 

“No, you don’t. I’m just kidding. You are warm though, but that’s not a complaint.” he growls, tossing the comforter off of both of you. He pushes himself up off of the couch, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips. “Coffee? You drink coffee?” he asks, searching for his phone on the coffee table. “Or I can order something to the house, though there’s really only one good place that deliv–”

You send him a knowing look and he stops himself. 

“But you know that already because you live across the street.” he sighs. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee’s good.” you answer, looking for your own phone. 

“How do you like it? Sugar? Milk? I don’t know what I have but–”

“Just sugar is fine…” you smirk. 

He leans over the coffee table to grab his phone, stealing a kiss on his descent. 

“Hey!” you laugh.

“You said just sugar…” he grins, swiping his phone and disappearing into his kitchen. 

You stifle back the smile on your lips, and a morning you thought might be slightly awkward, feels like you’ve done it a million times. You pull on your cardigan, and run your fingers through your hair, straightening up the couch cushions, and repositioning the pillows. You’re finishing folding up his comforter as he walks into the room. 

“Ahh, you didn’t have to do that.” he says, placing your mug on the coffee table.

“No trouble, just cleaning up our mess.” you smile, tossing the folded comforter down onto the couch. 

“You seem to be rather good at that...” he smirks into his coffee mug. 

Your cheeks grow hot as you recall what he is referring to. You grab your mug from the table and take a few sips, finding that somehow it’s made exactly how you like it. 

You spot your keys under the coffee table, bending to grab them. “There they are. Always getting away from me.”

He chuckles as he takes his normal seat on the couch, crossing his leg over his knee. You stare at him, just enjoying his coffee on his couch and you want to ask him if you can see him again, but you don’t. You think back to what he told you last night, and decide against it. 

You place your empty mug on the table, and bite your lips together before looking at him. “Thank you– for the coffee, and everything. It was nice.” 

“Yeah, it was nice, wasn’t it? Same time next year?” he jokes, offering you a wink. 

“Oh yeah, I thought that was a given…” you say through a laugh, “I mean, if you’re home of course.”

You grab your phone and keys from the coffee table and stand, ready to make your way towards the front door. He joins you in standing, the mug still clasped in his hand.

“Yeah, you just never know, ya know? I mean, maybe we don’t even have to wait that long…” he laughs, taking another sip of his coffee with a shrug. 

“Yeah, I mean, you have my number…” You smile, twisting the front door knob. 

“That I do. I definitely do.” he pauses, as you pull the door open. “Hey wait, let me walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, it’s just right there…” you say nervously. 

“No, really. I want to. Just give me a sec.” he says, setting his mug on the entry table and rushing to grab a hoodie from his coat rack. He slides on a pair of dirty white Vans that have definitely seen better days, and opens the door further. “Alright, you ready?”

The two of you make your way through his front yard, giggling back and forth all the way to your front door as he quizzes you about the videos you watched last night. As you step up to your front porch mat you pull your keys from your cardigan pocket and start to unlock the door. 

“Thanks for walking me home. You’re such a gentleman…” you say, feigning romance. As you peek over his shoulder you see Davy sitting in the window, keeping a close eye on Jake. 

“Well of course, I couldn’t miss out on my kiss…” he smiles, a little dimple forming in his cheek. 

“What kiss…” you press, all the while secretly hoping for just one more. 

He grabs your waist and pulls you close to him, pressing his cold lips to yours. You can taste the remnants of coffee on his tongue, and as he pulls away his lips linger just a second longer. 

A hum leaves his lips as he steps back. “That kiss.” He says, stepping backwards off of your porch, taking a few steps before turning to head back to his house. As you step inside your front door you look over your shoulder at the same time as he does, throwing his hand up from inside his hoodie pocket to offer you a two finger wave. 

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you close the door behind you, and you feel like positively melting into the ground over the night you just shared with Jake. As you peek out the window you see Davy gone from his patrol post, and you smile knowing he’s definitely happy to have Jake all to himself again.

—

As you scrub away the remnants of the night before, you can’t help but to remember the way his hands felt as they moved across your body. So warm and so intentional, even in his intoxicated state. You wonder if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and if he’s thinking about it just as much as you are. You think back to every other Valentine’s day you’ve ever had, and not a single one holding a candle to the night you just spent across the street with your neighbor. 

You hear your phone buzz on the bathroom counter as you turn the shower off, wrapping yourself in a towel as you pick it up from the countertop. Your heart leaps in your chest as you see his name flash across your screen.

Jake - Neighbor

12:04pm: Probably should have watched the first one before the sequel. 😉

12:04pm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWDf_CEkpoU&t=1382s

You quickly hit the link, watching as it directs you to youtube, pulling up yet another Rig Rundown video. This one is much older than the one you saw last night, and as you lean against the bathroom counter the intro music starts to play. You’re met with a much younger looking version of Jake, in a sweater and a bucket hat, looking bright and eager to talk about his craft. 

You quickly head towards your kitchen, pulling your own stash of gummies from your pantry. You pluck one of the small black bags from the basket and snap a photo as you pull up your texts and attach it to a message with a giggle. 

You

12:10pm: Should I take one of these before I watch it? 

12:10pm: By the way, love the bucket hat… 😉

You make your way back to your bedroom, dressing yourself in lounge clothes, knowing you’ll probably spend the rest of the day relaxing and catching up on your shows. Satisfied with your outfit you grab your phone to check for his response, only to be met with an empty screen. You sigh and make your way to the living room, flopping down onto your couch with your leftover take out from the night before, pressing play on the TV. 

You try not to think about the man across the street and what he’s probably doing. You know he must be into something since he has yet to respond to your message. That or he has no intention of ever speaking to you again. 

Feeling frustrated that it’s probably the latter, you toss your phone to the other side of the couch, catching a glance out your window. Your eyes snap to his driveway, seeing another car taking up the space next to his. Who the hell is at his house?

You stand up and make your way over to the window, taking a closer look at the white Jeep parked next to his car. You’ve never noticed it before…Or have you? You start to wrack your brain for the times you’ve even seen another car at his house, but you come up short. Never really caring before today. 

You sit back down on the couch and start the next episode of your show, feeling the soreness from the prior night's activities starting to settle into your muscles. You grab a throw blanket and your favorite pillow and snuggle down into the couch cushions, ready to nap away your troubles, and hoping to wake up to a new message in your inbox. 

A knock on the door startles you awake. You grab your phone and see that you’ve slept quite a few hours, and it’s now nearly 6:00pm.

You stand up and run your hands through your hair to combat the bedhead, clearing your throat as you reach for the door knob. Standing on the other side of your door is Jake, looking like he is fresh from the shower, as his damp hair lays long over his shoulders. You can smell his body wash wafting off of him and you practically melt into the door frame. 

“Did I wake you up? Did you actually take that gummy?” he laughs, pulling his hands from his pockets. 

“Oh, no. I didn’t. I just… I guess I was a little more tired than I thought.” you blush, trying to play it cool, and not like you’ve been thinking about him since the moment he left this morning. 

“Sorry I forgot to respond. My brother came over and I couldn’t get him to leave.” he laughs.  

His brother.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I was in and out of sleep all day anyways.” you lie. 

“So…” he pauses, taking a breath as he reaches into his pocket. “I may have acquired something a bit better than what we had last night.” he says holding a small black bag in his palm. 

“I don’t know, I kind of liked what we had last night.” you quip, a little smirk on your lips. 

“Mhmm, I know you did.” he smiles, sliding his hands back into his trouser pockets. 

“I don’t know if you had plans tonight or anything…” he trails off, kicking his foot against your doormat. “But I was thinking about watching this video I saw about how to make a barbecue smoker out of a filing cabinet. Really riveting stuff…”

His big brown eyes flash up to yours in question and you feel that flame in your chest reignite. You’re already eager at the thought of spending another night like last night. You knew right then that it wouldn’t matter if it was a filing cabinet smoker or a centuries old shipwreck, there was suddenly nothing more important than watching whatever it may be, with him. So with a shy smile, and the tap of your fingers against your chin you meet his gaze. 

“You know, I really have been meaning to look into that…”

Taglist: @ageofcj @britney-gvf @bladenotblaze @gretavanfan @peaceloveunitygvf @highway-tuna @anythingforjtk @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @myleftsock @gretavanmoon @aflame4goinghome @ascendingtothestarssasone @jjwasneverhere @sparrowofrhiannon @gvfstuddedmajesty @kiarraaldarondo @oliver-mf-reed @notjordie-gvf @starshine-wagner @starcatcherchords @sadiechar @spark-my-nature @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mackalah @stardustofman @eyelinerjake @farfromthehomelands @abby-gvf @writingcold @fleet-of-fiction @stardustjake @sinarainbows @gvfsstardust @ageoflou @jarmonicasweat @jakekiszkasmommy @bubblyjake @jakeygvf21 @starrymoonslut @takenbythemadness @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @m0uthfl13s @floatinglikeaswan @bri-archer @Mama.likes72

[t1red-twilight]

go ahead and cry

summary: reader and spencer bond over daddy issues.

content/warnings: gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, slight fluff, cursing, trauma, daddy issues on both ends (spence and reader), no use of y/n, mention of self harm, ptsd, dissociation, lmk if i missed anything

notes: i have daddy issues (rip), and i wrote this as a way to cope with that (rip). so, this could be seen as being trauma dumping (do not read if you’re not comfortable with that). i wanted to acknowledge this in a separate section other than just the warnings. otherwise, this fic is very personal to me. i hope you enjoy it! ily!<3

word count: 2k

masterlist

you were driving spencer home from work. the air between the two of you felt tense; it had been this way since the second half of the work day at the office.

he couldn’t remember when you had started acting differently, just that at some point after lunch you started acting more melancholic. you had gotten so good at hiding this aspect of yourself that nobody noticed, or at least nobody that knew you as well as spencer noticed.

the soft hum of the music from the radio filled the silence, but the sadness emanating from you wafted throughout the car. he didn’t know how to address the situation at first, so he just sat and puzzled his mind for any sort of way to talk to you.

you, however, noticed that spencer was stuck in his head. “hey, are you alright?” you glanced over to him quickly then back to the road. you clicked the signal down and changed lanes. the clicking could be heard over the radio.

“uh, yeah? are you okay?” he fiddled with his hands in his lap and looked over at you. the sounds of his rigid breaths thrummed in your ears. you squinted at the lines on the road.

you paused before responding to his question, “yeah! why wouldn’t i be?” your voice was filled with false happiness, and was followed by an even more awkward laugh. this did not go unnoticed by spencer.

you don’t know why you thought you could hide anything from him, but knowing this didn’t stop you from trying to.

“you just seem…off.” he hesitated before continuing. “you’ve felt off for a little while today, actually.”

you hesitated again. “it's not a huge deal, you don’t need to worry about it.” looking over at him, you moved your hand from the wheel to place it in his lap on top of his. you smiled over at him again. he knew it was fake.

the remainder of the car ride went without any speaking. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but the silence felt unwanted on your end at least. spencer’s voice was the only thing keeping you from floating away from the moment.

you were mindlessly driving for the rest of the way home. the world was fuzzy and hazy. muscle memory kicked in and you got home safely despite not being aware of your surroundings or that anything had even occurred.

you were supposed to be going to spencer’s for the night, but you had ended up at your own apartment. “oh shit. sorry, i can drive us back to your place. force of habit, i guess.” you tried to blink off the haze that was cocooning you.

spencer watched you rub your eyes with the tips of your fingers and his brow furrowed. “no, it’s fine, we can stay here tonight. i love your apartment.” he moved his head so that he was looking into your downtrodden stare. he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. the scent emanating off of him was the same clean, linen scent that you had grown to love and gain comfort from.

your hand squeezed his back before you opened your door and grabbed both of your things. you lightly jogged over to his side of the car to open his door, holding out your hand to guide him out of it. once out, you locked the car and you both walked up to the entrance to the lobby.

when you were both in front of the elevator, he turned to you and sighed. “are you sure you’re okay? i don’t want to push you or anything, but you don’t have to feel bad about talking to me. that’s what i’m here for, you know?” the door opened, you copied his sigh.

pushing the button for your floor, you adjusted your hold on your’s and spencer’s things. he kept his head turned looking at you. his big doe eyes were pleading. he just wanted to help you. you had done so much for him, he just wanted an opportunity to return the favor.

he inched his pinky on his right hand over to your left hand. he laced your two pinkies together. your breathing halted before you unlaced your fingers to wipe a solitary tear from your cheek. you took your hand and reunited it with spencer’s, this time you interlocking your hands completely. his pleading seemed to get even more desperate, if possible.

“i just-” you cut yourself off and inhaled deeply. you felt the thin lines of scar tissue underneath your clothes burn. you desperately wanted to itch at them. “my dad called me on my lunch break today.” you stared off into the distance and clicked your fingernails against each other.

it seemed as if both of you stopped breathing for a moment. spencer was about to say something, then the elevator dinged. the walk to your apartment door made room for the silence to temporarily return. the floor creaked as you both approached your apartment.

the click of the your front door shutting prompted spencer to pull you in to a emphatically tight hug. it was the type of hug that filled your soul with warmth and quenched your thirst for closeness. you attempted to choke back your sobs, but when he held you tighter you broke.

you didn’t hug him back from the start, but quickly you dropped the jacket and bags that you had been holding and held him back with an equally powerful squeeze. your emotions took hold and coursed through you wholly.

“go ahead. you can cry, i don’t mind.” you pressed your cheek against his chest and sobbed. the wetness of your tears dampened his shirt. he placed one hand on the back of your head and held it close to the side of his neck. it was a precise movement, but it was not forceful in any way.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“what he said isn’t important. it just made me feel shitty. I can’t think about him without remembering everything- without feeling everything that he did.” you picked at the folds of fabric on the back of spencer’s shirt. the way that he was rubbing circles into your back provided grounding so that you didn’ float away again like you did in the car.

he made his breathing more pronounced and you understood what he was communicating. it wasn’t overly dramatic or mocking at all. your breathing began to match his. he pulled away and looked at you. “do you want me to distract you?”

“if it’s okay, i think i want to talk it out a little bit.” he offered a soft smile, one that you did not have the energy to return. he removed one arm from you back to reach behind him and take off his shoes. you pulled away from him completely and took off your shoes and your sweater you were wearing over your button down.

he motioned towards the couch. you sat next to him on it, and he grabbed your legs and swung them over his lap. you scooted closer to him so that you could lean on him but still look at his face. to an onlooker, this position might have looked awkward and maybe even a little strained and strange. you and spencer often found yourselves sitting like this. it provided everything necessary: a closeness that wasn’t smothering but gave the comfort that you two loved.

he took his left arm rested it around your waist while his right hand sat on your knee. “i know that he’s just trying to be a dad, but he isn’t my dad. he never was; he lost that privilege. he always finds a way to make me feel bad about something, or say something fucked up.” you paused.

“i know you don’t want me to say that i’m sorry, but i am. i’m sorry that you aren’t able to have that relationship with him that i know you once craved.” he took a breath, thinking about what to say. “ i do think, however, that it is fantastic that you’re dating me. one, because i love knowing you and knowing that you feel the same way; seeing as you’re beautiful, smart, and incredibly well spoken. two, because i have felt similar things in the past. i don’t know many people that come from broken families and have inoperable paternal relationships.” he tapped his nose on yours. when you looked at him, he gave you a small, wistful smile.

“how do you do it?” you asked him. he hummed in response. “how do you not let him control your life? i mean, how does he not affect you?” he rubbed your knee. you could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“he does,” he said matter-of-factly. “well, i mean, the things that he did and said are instilled into who i am and have permanently impacted how i react and perceive things.” he took a deep breath, he was staring at the footrest at his feet. he looked back up at you. “i’m not perfect. some days are better than others. but, in the end we’re just children longing for the affection we were never given.”

the silence that surrounded you both as you thought of a way to respond was different than the one that held you both in the car. it was a silence that you were familiar with, it was saturated with the trust that you felt for him.

you laid your head down on his shoulder. the fabric of his button-down was stiff, but it was soft (once you had complained that spencer needed to invest in a better clothing softener. he abided).

spencer and his aura imbued your senses. he smelled and felt of comfort. you were acutely aware of how he gently and faintly rubbed his cheek against the top of your head.

“even though i can’t get back the childhood he took from me, i don’t ever stop wanting it.” your voice shook minutely. “i don’t have any faith that my father is a good person, or that he will ever change to become one. i don’t think i’ve ever looked at him and not seen the horrible ways he changed me. but i don’t ever stop wanting him to be better. he won’t be, and i know that to be a fact. but i know that he once had the potential to be something great, and i guess that gives me the faint underlying of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll do something to make up for what he did to me.”

spencer kissed the top of your head. you swore that you felt him crying but did nothing to question him on it. there was no need for him to respond that time; you just listened to his heartbeat. you payed attention to your breathing and tried to steady it.

after a few minutes, he said something. “i love you, and i’m sorry.” the simplicity filled the void in you, even though you knew that it was nonpermanent. you would eventually long for his comfort and repeat this dance again and again.

your voice was almost reduced to a whisper. “i’m sorry that sometimes i’m a mess-” he tried to cut you off but you spoke over him. “i’m sorry that i can’t ask for help when i need it- but i won’t stop needing you. i love you. please don’t leave me. i have no clue what i would do or who i would be if you weren’t with me.”

“i was trying to say that you aren’t a mess,” you could hear the watery smile in his tone, “you aren’t a mess. and i’m not going to leave. i could never do that to you. i am going to stay as long as you’ll have me stay. okay? as long as you’ll have me, i’ll be here. with you.”

and so, you sat like that. and for a moment, while spencer held you, you existed as one. the line blurred between you. you were two broken children finding solace in each other.

[loveinhawkins]

Up until recent events, Eddie hasn’t really put much thought into flashlights—save for that time he had to take out the batteries in the T.V remote to get his to work, back when the power went wonky last summer.

But now? Oh, as soon as he’s through with this whole nightmare, Eddie’s gonna find out whichever saint invented the damn things and start a petition to get them a federal holiday. That’s gonna be his whole… raisin something, something—he thinks it’s French, Buckley will know.

Fucking wondrous creations.

… Okay, he might still be a little jittery.

So sue him. It’s either run with his increasingly stupid train of thought or have a thoroughly justified panic about—well, there’s just so much to choose from: the ash in the air, the apparently sentient vines on the ground, how it’s so fucking cold and dark—

Jesus H. Christ, calm down.

It’s not all that dark anyway—or at least, it’s not as dark as it could be. Steve’s lighting the way, flashlight in hand. Honestly, Eddie thinks he should get it preserved, like in one of those glass cabinets in museums, complete with a plaque: This bulb somehow survived a journey from the depths of a lake into an alternate dimension, and all for the low, low price of…

Well, Eddie doesn’t know how much it cost. He’ll workshop the whole plaque thing.

In his reverie, he stumbles carelessly, nearly pitching over right into Hive Mind territory.

“Ah, shit,” he whispers.

Steve’s hand must move because the light drifts over—ends up illuminating much more of Eddie’s path than Steve’s.

“Thanks,” Eddie says—glances sideways to find Steve already looking at him.

“Think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Steve replies.

His hand flexes, as if he’d gone to twirl the flashlight before catching himself; Eddie has a very faint memory of Steve doing the same with pencils in class and fights a private smile.

“You gave me it,” Steve continues. “I would’ve just… gone right in without thinking.”

It’s said self-deprecatingly, but Eddie would argue that Steve’s impulsivity (his courage) is an admirable character trait, even if it sets his heart pounding.

His own problem is that he thinks too damn much, until the window of opportunity has almost been and gone.

He was the only one to hesitate before diving into the lake: he knows all too well how that could’ve made its way onto the increasingly long list of moments that haunt him.

He could’ve been too late, could’ve not found the Gate at all—and then, would only have been able to pathetically swim back to the kids and tell them that their heroes were gone.

The light skips onwards just a little, encourages Eddie to look up from his feet. He blinks a few times to try and adjust to the darkness looming ahead. There, the indistinct outline of trees, and he’s drawn back to a classroom again, to the soporific noise of chalk on a blackboard, to…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

“The hell is that from?” Eddie wonders, and he doesn’t realise he’s also said the quote aloud until Steve speaks.

“S’a poem. Robert Frost.”

Eddie clicks his fingers. “See, that’s why you actually passed English.”

Steve rocks his hand back and forth, so-so.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t play coy now, Harrington.”

“I’m not, I passed by the skin of my teeth, dude.” Steve looks into the distance as he walks, like he’s being drawn back to some place, too. “I was meant to, um, submit a portfolio thing, and I just… didn’t.”

“Like stories and shit?”

Steve smiles. “Mm-hmm, and shit. Poems, too.”

“So why didn’t you…?”

Steve just shrugs in reply so Eddie changes tack—rolls his eyes expansively, but only at himself.

“Fucking Frost. Ugh, why can I remember that shit now, but when a paper’s in front of me, it’s just…” Eddie mimes an explosion in the back of his head, gone.

“Well,” Steve says, chuckling, “if the, uh, lovely atmosphere of this place jogs your memory, we’ll make some time, get you to write an essay.” He grins at Eddie, teasing and charming in equal measure. “We’re nothing if not productive.”

“Sure, that’s one word for it.”

Joking aside, Eddie finds that the mention of school calms his heart somewhat: to think of the foreboding sights around him as part of a story. Maybe it’s a control thing, like his campaigns. Dress shit up, put a film on top, then you don’t have to look at it directly.

He suggests as such to Steve in a longwinded ramble, and gets a thoughtful look in response.

“Like the Shire? And Mordor?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, exactly.”

Steve nods slightly. The movement dislodges some particles in his hair—and yes, it helps, Eddie thinks, to believe it’s just freshly fallen snow.

“Yeah, that sorta never really worked for me?” Steve’s voice goes up at the end, almost apologetically, although for the life of him, Eddie can’t work out what he’s apologising for. “Like, when the kids ran with all the D&D stuff, the uh… analogy? Metaphor?”

Eddie gestures at himself with one hand, I failed English.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, whatever. Dustin and Lucas keep hashing that one out. Anyway, it didn’t exactly… help. Help me, I mean. Just made everything more…”

He sighs heavily.

Eddie thinks he understands. All his bullshit is just a veneer, after all: it doesn’t truly mask the fear.

“Hey, maybe you could give it a shot,” Steve adds. The light dances for a second, like he’s just barely resisted twirling the flashlight again.

“What?”

Steve smirks—juvenile, light-hearted, almost like he’s about to challenge Eddie at the school gym, like, bet you can’t make that shot from center court, Munson.

“You could write a poem. Make sense of…” Steve gestures around them.

“Harrington, as I keep reminding you, I failed English.”

“Yeah, so? I’ve heard Henderson go on about your campaigns, dude, s’not like they come from nothing.” Steve looks Eddie up and down in exaggerated scrutiny. “You look like the kinda guy who loves a theme.”

“Oh, really,” Eddie says flatly. He can’t hide his smile even if he tried.

“That’s what I thought, every time you’d come into class late: oh, here he is. The symbolism.”

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, shut up.” Eddie steps into Steve’s space just to shove him away (just to touch). He thinks that if he were to try his hand at poetry, it’d be horrendously self-indulgent—something about how he might not be the one holding a flashlight right now, but he’s certainly carrying a torch.

“I don’t work for free, Steve. You’ve gotta do one, too.”

“A poem for a poem, huh?” Steve says. “Sure. It’s a deal.”

And yeah, they might just be saying anything to pass the time. But Eddie chooses to believe otherwise; there’s still a pensive flicker in Steve’s eyes that makes him think he might just get lucky, that Steve might even dig up some old stuff from his abandoned portfolio.

It’s a nice thought—something to look forward to, at the end of all this.

He considers Steve, and even though he knows it’s not snow, he can’t help but turn the particles into flakes in his mind again, into something prettier, safe—almost as if Steve’s presence has softened the danger.

He wants to stop here, suddenly. Linger. It doesn’t make sense. But it feels like time is…

A gentle nudge—a warm elbow to his side.

“C’mon, daydreamer,” Steve says. “You can write down whatever you’re thinking later.”

Eddie snaps out of it with a breath of a chuckle, follows Steve’s light again. Keeps moving forward—past the ash, and the vines, and the trees.

The woods won’t be forever.

After all, he’s got promises to keep.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Shattered.

adjective ‘very upset’

in which, your trying to live a normal life as much as you can, but when you bump into the handsome doctor again, and realise he’s got questions, questions that you can’t answer and thats when you realise just how much your longing for that perfect fairy tale ending.

word count - 5.6k

authors note - ahhh!! i’m so sorry that the wait for this chapter has been so long, but i’ve got over my writers block now and am so excited to get back to writing for your guys, before we start i would just like to thank the beautiful @missbearforfun for helping me with this story, i honestly would not have been able to do this without them, so mwah!!

warnings - mentions of domestic abuse, hospitals, some mild swearing, corey, and nightmares. (if i’ve missed anything please don’t refrain from letting me know!!)

August 30th, 2022.

As you jogged around the local park, the rhythmic thud of your footsteps echoed against the pavement, accompanied by the familiar melodies of Fleetwood Mac streaming through your headphones. With your water bottle in hand, you embraced the solitude of the early morning, relishing in the peaceful ambiance of the park.

Lost in the music and the rhythm of your steps, you rounded a bend in the path and nearly collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. Startled, you stumbled backward, the sudden interruption jolting you out of your reverie. As your headphones slipped slightly, the sound of the stranger's voice broke through the silence.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" The voice was accompanied by a concerned expression, and as you looked up, you found yourself gazing into the eyes of a man, who looked just that little bit older to you.

His concern was genuine, and there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.

Brushing off the near collision with a sheepish grin, you assured him that you were fine. He lingered for a moment, his easy smile infectious, and before you knew it, you were engaged in conversation.

"Sorry about that, I should've been paying more attention," The man spoke with a chuckle, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"It's okay, no harm done," you replied, returning his smile.

"I'm Corey."

"Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N)," you replied, returning his smile.

As the conversation continued, Corey's easygoing charm put you at ease.

"So, do you come here often?" he asked, his tone playful.

"Yeah, I try to jog here a few times a week. It's a great way to clear my head," you explained, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence.

Corey nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I totally get that. There's something about being outdoors that's really refreshing."

Before parting ways, Corey hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Hey, I know this is perhaps a bit forward, but would you be interested in going for a jog together sometime?"

A smile spread across your face at the invitation.

"I'd like that."

February 4th, 2024.

Standing behind the counter at the cafe where you work, you felt a dull ache resonate through your body with every breath you took in. Corey's words from a few days ago echoed in your mind, urging you to discharge yourself from the hospital, convinced that you were wasting the doctors' time.

Now, as you struggled through the pain, you couldn't help but wonder if he was right.

He usually was.

Your hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a practical choice to keep it out of the way as you worked. The familiar routine of wiping down the coffee machine provided a small distraction from the discomfort that gnawed at you.

Despite the bustling atmosphere of the cafe, you felt isolated in your pain. Corey's presence loomed large in your mind, his words echoing like a relentless refrain. The memory of what he had done last night weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over even the simplest of tasks.

"There’s no reason for you to be here," Corey insisted, his voice dripping with irritation. "The doctors have better things to do than waste their time on someone who doesn't need to be here."

You winced as his fingers dug into your shoulders, his nails leaving angry red marks that threatened to break the skin. The pain in your ribs intensified with each shallow breath, a relentless reminder of the trauma you endured.

But Corey's words cut deeper than any physical wound, adding a layer of guilt and self-doubt to your already overwhelming emotions.

"B-but I'm in pain," you protested weakly, your voice barely above a whisper, your stutter more pronounced in the face of his anger.

Corey's impatience only seemed to grow as he dismissed your concerns with a wave of his hand. "You're fine. It's probably just a bruise or something. You don't need to be taking up a hospital bed for that."

As he spoke, you felt a familiar sense of unease settle over you. It wasn't the first time Corey had minimized your pain and dismissed your need for medical attention. With each passing moment, the weight of his words bore down on you, chipping away at your already fragile sense of self-worth.

Despite the doubts that gnawed at you, a part of you couldn't help but wonder if Corey was right. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were wasting the doctors' time. But deep down, beneath the layers of doubt and fear, you knew that your pain was real, and that you deserved to be heard.

"Please, Corey," you pleaded, your voice shaking with emotion. "I-I need to stay here. I-I need help."

But Corey's patience had worn thin, his frustration boiling over into anger.

"You're being ridiculous," he snapped, his grip on your shoulders tightening. "Get up and leave. Now."

As tears welled up in your eyes, you felt a sense of helplessness wash over you. Trapped between the pain in your body and the cruelty of Corey's words, you struggled to find the strength to stand up for yourself.

Just over a year ago, you were looking for a way to get some money into your bank account, and there was this little cafe on a road called Canal Street, that you had noticed was hiring.

Your heart fluttered with nervous excitement as you hesitated at the threshold, unsure if you had the courage to step inside. Pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath and entered, the chime of the bell announcing your arrival.

Inside, you were greeted by the sight of a cozy interior, filled with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Your nerves danced beneath the surface as you approached the counter, where a kind, elderly couple stood, their faces etched with warmth and hospitality.

With hesitant steps, you inquired about the vacant position, your voice barely above a whisper. The woman behind the counter noticed your trembling hands and the uncertainty in your eyes. With a gentle smile, she ushered you to sit down at one of the empty tables, her soft touch calming the jitters that threatened to consume you.

As she reached across to still your shaking hands, her touch was like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

February 6th, 2024.

On this rare sunny day in Manchester, Dr. Styles, known as Harry to his family, strolled leisurely around the duck pond with his six-year-old nephew, Noah.

It was a tradition for Harry to spend Tuesday afternoonswith Noah, (he always picked him up after school and they always did something to tire the young boy out) his designated day off during the week, cherishing these moments of familial connection amidst his demanding schedule.

Thursdays marked his other day of respite, but it was Tuesdays that held a special place in their hearts.

As they ambled along the winding path, Harry watched with fondness as Noah skipped ahead, his youthful exuberance a stark contrast to the calm demeanor of his uncle. The vibrant hues of the surrounding greenery were accentuated by the gentle rays of sunlight filtering through the branches, casting dappled patterns on the ground below.

The tranquil atmosphere of the duck pond enveloped them, the rhythmic quacking of the ducks providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation. Noah's animated chatter filled the air as he regaled Harry with tales of his adventures at school, his innocent enthusiasm infectious.

Harry listened attentively, his heart swelling with pride at the boundless imagination and curiosity of his nephew. Despite the demands of his profession, moments like these served as a reminder of the simple joys in life, grounding him in the present and offering solace amidst the chaos of the world.

As they strolled around the duck pond, Noah's eyes sparkled with excitement as he spotted the ducks gliding gracefully across the water.

"Uncle H, can we feed the ducks?" he asked eagerly, his voice filled with anticipation.

Harry's heart sank as he realized he had forgotten to bring bread for the ducks. With a sigh, he crouched down to Noah's eye level and explained, "M’sorry, buddy, but I forgot to bring bread today. We can't feed the ducks without any bread."

Noah's face fell, disappointment evident in his expression.

"But I really wanted to feed the ducks," he lamented, his lower lip trembling slightly.

Just as Harry was about to offer consolation, Noah's gaze shifted to an elderly couple sitting on a nearby bench, feeding the ducks slices of bread from a small bag.

"Look, Uncle H, they have bread! Can we ask them for a slice?" Noah exclaimed, his excitement returning at the prospect of feeding the ducks.

Harry hesitated, his brow furrowing in uncertainty.

"Noah, buddy, we can't just ask people f’their bread," he began, but before he could finish, Noah was already darting towards the elderly couple, his enthusiasm undeterred.

"Excuse me, can we have some bread to feed the ducks, please? My uncle H forgot!" Noah asked earnestly, his eyes wide with hope as he approached the couple.

The elderly woman smiled kindly at Noah, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

"Of course, dear. Here, take a slice," she said, offering him a piece of bread from the bag.

And just like that Noah was running off towards the water, as Harry kept a watchful eye on the young boy he cared so deeply for.

As Noah happily fed the ducks with the bread he had received from the kind elderly couple, Harry approached them with a grateful smile.

"Thank y’so much f’letting him have some bread. M’sorry about him, he's not shy to ask for anything from anyone," Harry apologized, his tone apologetic yet amused.

The women smiled warmly at Harry's words.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. We're happy to share," she replied kindly, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched Noah's delight.

The man who was accompanying her chuckled, his deep voice carrying a sense of camaraderie.

"That's the spirit. Kids have a way of reminding us to embrace life's simple pleasures," he remarked, nodding towards Noah.

Harry found himself drawn into conversation with the couple, their easygoing demeanor putting him at ease.

"M’name's Harry, by the way," he introduced himself, extending a hand in greeting.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Mary, and this is my husband, Barney," Mary replied, shaking Harry's hand with a firm grip. "We've been coming to this duck pond every Tuesday for as long as I can remember."

Barney nodded in agreement.

"It's become a bit of a tradition for us. We find it's the perfect way to spend our day off together," he explained, a fond smile playing on his lips.

As they chatted, Harry learned more about Mary and Barney's life together – their love of nature, their shared interests, and the joy they found in the simple pleasures of everyday life. He found himself opening up to them, sharing stories of his own experiences and adventures with Noah.

"There's something special about being out in nature, isn't there? It's good for the soul," Mary remarked, her gaze wandering across the tranquil expanse of the duck pond.

Harry nodded in agreement, a sense of peace settling over him.

"Absolutely. S’moments like these that make life truly meaningful," he agreed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Talking to the two of them seemed to stop time, and before he knew it, the sun was already starting to set in the background.

As Harry glanced down at the Apple Watch on his wrist, he realized the time had flown by faster than he had anticipated.

He clapped his hands together, a smile tugging at his lips, and said, "Well, I best get going. Noah's got to have his dinner soon."

Mary and Barney nodded understandingly, their faces reflecting the warmth of their earlier conversation.

Just as Harry began to turn away, Mary's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Before you go, young man, I wanted to mention something," Mary said, her tone gentle yet earnest. "Barney and I actually own a café on the corner of Canal Street called Timeless Brews. If you ever find yourself in the area, you're more than welcome to pop by. We'd love to see you."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

"Thank you, Mary. That's incredibly kind of you," he replied gratefully. "I'll definitely make sure to stop by sometime."

Barney chimed in with a hearty chuckle.

"Consider it an open invitation, Harry. We'd be delighted to have you as our guest," he said warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

As Harry bid farewell to Mary and Barney, a sense of gratitude filled his heart.

In just a short time, he had forged a connection with this kindhearted couple, and he couldn't help but feel touched by their generosity. With a final wave, he turned to Noah, who was already bounding ahead, eager to continue their adventure.

As they walked away from the duck pond, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of warmth and camaraderie that lingered in the air. He knew that he had made two new friends today, and he looked forward to the possibility of visiting Timeless Brews and sharing more conversations with Mary and Barney in the future.

From a young age, Harry's fascination with the world of medicine was sparked by a pivotal moment in his childhood. At the tender age of ten, he found himself in the confines of a hospital room, his ankle throbbing with pain after a clumsy fall. As he lay in the hospital bed, surrounded by the reassuring presence of doctors and nurses,

Harry knew with unwavering certainty that he wanted to dedicate his life to helping others in the same way they had helped him.

Driven by this newfound sense of purpose, Harry immersed himself in his studies, excelling academically and setting his sights on a future in medicine. At the age of eighteen, his hard work and dedication paid off when he received the news of his acceptance into Oxford University's prestigious Doctor of Medicine program.

With a heart full of ambition and determination, Harry embarked on this new chapter of his life with unwavering resolve.

Over the course of six intense years, Harry immersed himself in the rigors of medical education, delving deep into the intricacies of the human body and honing his skills as a healer.

With each passing year, he grew more confident in his abilities and more passionate about his chosen field, fueled by a relentless desire to make a difference in the lives of others.

Upon graduating from Oxford at the age of twenty-four, Harry's journey had only just begun. Armed with knowledge, experience, and an unyielding commitment to his calling, he eagerly embraced the opportunity to put his skills to the test in the real world.

Eight months later, he found himself walking the halls of The Manchester Royal Infirmary, a newly minted doctor ready to embark on the next phase of his career.

Now, at the age of twenty-six, Harry finds himself living his dream. He's found fulfillment and purpose in his work, relishing the challenges and rewards that come with each day in the hospital.

Yet, amidst the hustle and bustle of his professional life, there lingers a quiet longing for something more – the perfect partner to share his journey with.

And then, you walked into the hospital – an ethereal presence that captivated Harry from the moment he laid eyes on you. Though he knows he must maintain a professional demeanor, there's an undeniable pull, a spark of connection that ignites within him at the sight of you.

As he goes about his duties, his thoughts drift to you, everything about you, wondering if fate will bring them together once more.

10th February, 2024.

As Harry's shift at the hospital came to an end, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. The late shift, starting at 10:45 pm and ending at 9 am, had been a challenging one.

He had encountered a variety of cases, from a patient with a shard of glass lodged near a femoral artery to a young man suffering from alcohol intoxication who had vomited uncontrollably.

Despite the intensity of these emergencies, Harry had remained calm and composed, providing expert care and ensuring the safety of his patients.

Now, as he made his way out of the hospital, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of exhaustion creeping in. The long hours had taken their toll, but he knew that his dedication to his profession was unwavering. He looked forward to the weekend ahead, eager to recharge and spend time with loved ones.

As he walked through the hospital corridors, Harry's thoughts turned to his aspirations for advancement within the medical field. He had been diligently working towards a promotion to become the Clinical Lead, a position currently held by Marcus, who was set to retire soon.

Harry knew that achieving this goal would require dedication and perseverance, but he was determined to rise to the challenge.

As Harry made his way towards the exit, he detoured towards the doctor's desk where his colleague Miranda was stationed.

"Hey, M," he greeted her with a tired but friendly smile. "Just wanted t’give y’a heads up about the patient in cubicle five. They're allergic to morphine, but it wasn't in their notes, so be sure to double-check before administering any medication. Oh, and they're booked in for a CT scan at eleven o'clock."

Miranda nodded, her expression attentive as she took note of Harry's instructions.

"Got it, thanks for letting me know, Haz. I'll make sure to handle it," she assured him, her voice calm and confident.

Just as Harry was about to head out, another colleague approached him. It was Mitch, with his signature man bun and glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

Mitch was most definitely one of his best friends, they shared a dorm at Oxford and were lucky enough to both get a job at the same hospital. Mitch was specialised in paediatrics so they hardly saw each other when working but when they did they always had a good time.

They sometimes ate together on there lunch breaks.

"Hey, bud," Mitch greeted him with a grin. "What shifts are you doing tomorrow?"

Harry glanced at his watch before replying,

"I'm on an early. I'll be in f’seven," he answered, his tone weary but determined.

Mitch nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic.

"Early shift, huh? Well, try to get some rest, mate. You've earned it," he said, patting Harry on the back in a gesture of camaraderie.

"Thanks, man. I'll do m’best," Harry replied with a grateful smile, appreciating the support from his colleague.

As Harry stepped out of the hospital's exit, the cool morning breeze greeted him, stirring a newfound hunger in his stomach. It had been nearly five hours since his last meal, and the thought of a hearty breakfast was tantalizing. Toast sounded particularly appealing at the moment, simple yet satisfying.

Recalling the conversation he had with the couple at the park the other day, Harry remembered their mention of a cafe they owned nearby. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he considered the possibility of finding a cozy spot to enjoy a meal. The idea of supporting a local business while indulging in some much-needed nourishment appealed to him greatly.

With determination in his stride, Harry made his way to his black Range Rover parked nearby. Slipping behind the wheel, he navigated the bustling streets of Canal Street, the anticipation of discovering a new culinary gem fueling his excitement. Despite the morning rush, he remained focused on his mission, determined to satisfy his hunger with a delicious meal.

After a brief ten-minute drive, Harry finally found a parking space outside the cafe. With a sense of satisfaction, he turned off the engine and stepped out of his car, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. With each step towards the entrance, Harry's anticipation grew, eager to experience what the cafe had to offer.

As Harry entered the cafe, a small bell above the door tinkled lightly, announcing his arrival. He scanned the cozy interior, his eyes immediately landing on an inviting empty table by the window. Making his way over, he settled into the chair, already relishing the prospect of a hot cup of coffee and some toast.

Before he could even glance at the menu, the elderly woman from the park approached his table with a warm smile.

"Well, look who it is! I'm so glad you decided to stop by," she greeted him cheerfully.

Harry returned her smile, feeling a sense of familiarity and warmth in her presence.

"I couldn't resist," he admitted.

The woman beamed with delight.

"Oh, I'm thrilled to hear that! Someone will be with you shortly to take your order. In the meantime, make yourself at home," she said warmly before bustling off to attend to another customer.

Harry leaned back in his chair, feeling a sense of comfort settle over him in the quaint surroundings of the cafe.

As you stand behind the counter, wiping down the coffee machine, Mary, approaches you with a gentle smile.

"Table nine needs to have his order taken," she informs you kindly.

You nod in acknowledgment, trying to ignore the pain throbbing in your ribs and your lower leg.

Retrieving your notepad and pen from under the counter, you attempt to conceal your limp as you make your way over to table nine.

Approaching the table, you and Harry seem to recognize each other simultaneously.

Both of your eyes widen.

Both your mouths go dry.

You blink a few times, getting yourself out of the daze you seem to be captured in as you muster up a fake smile and ask him what he'd like to order.

Before you can finish your question, Harry interrupts you, his voice filled with concern.

"I wondered what had happened t’you," he admits, his gaze searching yours.

You tilt your head to the side, feigning innocence, though you know exactly what he's referring to.

"Oh, it was nothing serious," you reply casually, hoping to brush off the topic.

But it was.

Harry sighs, his expression filled with sincerity.

"Y’discharged yourself before your X-ray," he points out, his tone gentle yet firm. "You wouldn't have done that. You know doctors are there to help people."

You let out a resigned sigh, knowing he's right but unwilling to admit it.

"I didn't want to waste the doctor's time," you murmur, avoiding his gaze as you fiddle with your pen.

Harry's brow furrows in concern.

"Every patient is important, Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with compassion.

He remembers your name?

"Y’shouldn't have discharged yourself. What happened to you?"

You muster up a fake laugh, hoping to deflect his concern.

"Oh, it was nothing much," you reply nonchalantly, though the memories of the past week weigh heavily on your mind. "Just a few bumps and bruises. I'm fine now."

Harry sighs, his expression troubled.

"I was there to help you," he says earnestly, his eyes searching yours. "And I'll always be here to help you. Y’don’t have to go through these things alone.”

Harry's gaze remains fixed on you, his concern evident as he waits for your response.

You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the weight of his words weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"I appreciate your concern, Harry," you say, your voice tinged with reluctance. "But really, there's nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

Harry's brow furrows further, his concern deepening.

"Y/N, I can see that you're in pain," he observes, his tone gentle yet insistent.

You bite your lip, torn between the urge to confide in him and the instinct to keep your struggles hidden.

"It's just... life, you know?" you reply evasively, hoping to deflect his questions. "Nothing I can't handle."

Harry's gaze softens, his empathy shining through as he reaches out a hand towards yours.

"You don't have to handle everything on y’own, Y/N," he says softly. "Sometimes s’okay to lean on others for support."

You pull away slightly, the walls around your heart growing stronger as you push him away.

"I appreciate your concern, Harry," you repeat, your voice firmer this time. "But I'm fine. Really."

Harry's expression falls, a flicker of hurt passing through his eyes before he nods in reluctant acceptance.

"Okay," he says quietly, though the disappointment lingers in his voice. "If y’ever need someone to talk to, m’here."

But where would you ever find him?

You shift your focus to the menu in front of you, grateful for the temporary distraction it provides.

"And what can I get for you today?" you ask, forcing a polite smile as you glance up at Harry.

His gaze flickers down to the menu briefly before returning to meet yours.

"Just a black coffee with a tuna panini, please," he replies, his voice calm and composed.

You nod, scribbling down his order on your notepad as you fight to maintain your composure.

"Sure thing," you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your ribs.

With a tight smile, you turn away, doing your best to conceal the slight limp in your step as you make your way back to the counter.

You walk over to the coffee machine, the familiar hum of its machinery offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil swirling within you. With practiced efficiency, you begin the process of brewing Harry's black coffee, the rich aroma filling the air as the dark liquid flows into the waiting cup.

As the coffee finishes brewing, you carefully pour it into a ceramic cup, the warmth seeping through the porcelain and into your hands. Despite the ache in your ribs and the lingering pain in your leg, you focus on the task at hand, determined to see it through with unwavering precision.

You carefully balance the tray in one hand, holding Harry's black coffee securely as you navigate your way back to his table.

Despite your best efforts to conceal it, the persistent ache in your ribs and the throbbing pain in your leg threaten to betray you with every step.

As you approach Harry's table, your foot catches on an uneven tile, sending you stumbling forward. Your heart races as you fight to regain your balance, but it's too late.

With a sharp crack, the glass mug slips from your grasp, shattering into pieces on the floor in front of you.

A gasp escapes your lips as you watch the coffee spill across the tiles, the warm liquid mingling with the shards of broken glass. Heat rises to your cheeks as embarrassment floods through you, your pulse pounding in your ears as you struggle to compose yourself.

Harry's concerned voice cuts through the chaos, his words a blur as he rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his brow furrowed with worry as he rushes to your side.

You freeze at the sound of his voice, your heart pounding in your chest as a surge of panic threatens to overwhelm you.

Memories of Corey's anger and violence flood your mind, leaving you trembling in fear.

Harry's hand reaches out to touch your shoulder, but you flinch away instinctively, your body tensing with apprehension.

"Easy, easy," he murmurs softly, his voice gentle as he takes a step closer. "I just want to make sure y’alright."

The sincerity in Harry's words sends a jolt of conflicting emotions coursing through you. Part of you longs to believe him, to surrender to the warmth of his concern and let him chase away the shadows that haunt you.

But another part, hardened by years of trauma, recoils from his touch, wary of the vulnerability that comes with trust.

Struggling to find your voice amidst the turmoil raging within you, you take a shaky step back, your gaze darting nervously around the room.

"I'm... I'm fine," you manage to choke out, though the words taste like ash on your tongue.

Harry's expression softens, his eyes filled with genuine concern as he takes in your trembling form.

"Y’don't look fine," he says gently, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, let me help you."

The sincerity in Harry's voice is like a lifeline in the darkness, offering you a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. But the walls you've built around your heart remain steadfast, the fear of vulnerability too great to overcome.

With a heavy heart, Harry watches as you push yourself to your feet and bolt towards the back of the cafe, disappearing from sight before he can reach out to stop you.

Left standing amidst the wreckage, he can't help but feel a pang of regret, knowing that he's let you slip through his fingers once again. But deep down, he knows that he won't give up on you, not when there's still a chance to break through the walls that surround your wounded heart.

He flickers his eyes up, and catches the eyes of Barney, but the elderly man just casts his eyes back down to the floor.

As you reach the relative safety of the back room, you lean against the wall, gasping for breath as tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

The sound of your own heartbeat echoes in your ears, a relentless reminder of the darkness that lurks within you, threatening to swallow you whole.

LATER THAT NIGHT….

Corey storms into the room, his footsteps heavy with anger.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shrink back against the headboard, clutching your book tightly to your chest.

"Why isn't there any food on the table?" Corey's voice cuts through the silence like a knife, his tone sharp with frustration.

You stutter out a feeble excuse, explaining that you only just got home from work and haven't had time to cook anything.

"But... I was thinking... maybe we could order takeout?" you offer tentatively, your voice trembling with apprehension.

The suggestion only seems to fuel his rage further.

"You know I don't like eating fast food," he snaps, his voice laced with contempt as he strides towards you.

Without warning, he grabs your hair, wrenching your head back to meet his furious gaze.

Panic courses through you as you struggle to find your voice, your mind racing with fear and confusion.

"There's... there's not much food in the house," you stammer, your words barely audible above the pounding of your heart.

You hadn’t had time to go shopping today.

Corey's grip tightens, his fingers digging into your scalp as he leans in close, his breath hot against your skin.

"You're so useless," he sneers, his words dripping with venom.

"Fat, lazy, good-for-nothing..."

The room spins as Corey's tirade continues, his insults cutting deeper with each passing moment.

Desperate to escape, you try to push him away, but his grip only tightens, trapping you in a nightmare from which there seems to be no escape.

Suddenly, with a violent outburst, Corey grabs the lamp from the bedside table and hurls it against the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room.

Tears blur your vision as you shrink back against the bed, utterly petrified by the display of his rage.

As Corey advances towards you with a fiery rage burning in his eyes, you scramble to your feet, desperately trying to evade his grasp.

With a surge of adrenaline, you manage to slip past him, your heart pounding in your chest as you bolt towards the stairs.

But just as you reach the top step, Corey's hand snags your arm, wrenching you around with a brutal force that sends you reeling.

"How dare you run away from me?" he hisses, his breath hot against your face as flecks of spit land on your skin. "You should never turn your back on your boyfriend."

Terror courses through you as you try to reason with him, your voice trembling with fear.

"Corey, please... You're hurting me," you manage to stammer, but your words fall on deaf ears.

Corey's laughter cuts through the air like a knife, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic amusement.

"Hurting you?" he mocks, his voice dripping with disdain.

"This isn't hurting you, sweetheart. This is."

And with a sudden shove, he sends you tumbling down the stairs, your body crashing against the unforgiving steps with a sickening thud.

Agony radiates through every fiber of your being as you lie at the bottom of the staircase, your ribs screaming in protest with each labored breath.

Tears blur your vision as you curl into a ball, the weight of Corey's betrayal crushing down upon you like a suffocating weight.

With a gasp, you jolt awake from the nightmare, your heart pounding in your chest as if trying to escape the confines of your ribcage.

The events that caused you to head to the hospital in the first place continuously running through your head leading to sleepless night after sleepless night.

Beads of sweat cling to your forehead, your hair damp and tangled against your skin, as the remnants of the horrifying dream linger in your mind like a haunting specter.

As you turn to your left, the empty space beside you serves as a stark reminder of Corey's absence. The sinking realization settles in that he's likely out drinking again, his drunken antics and volatile behavior a constant source of fear and uncertainty in your life.

Gazing out of the window, you're met with the sight of a full moon casting an eerie glow over the world below. Its ethereal light illuminates the darkness, casting long shadows that seem to dance with malevolent intent.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you ponder the endless cycle of fear and despair that has become your reality.

How much longer will you have to endure this nightmare?

tag list: @fictionalmensblog @hermionelove @angel32112233 @moneybaby07 @hannah9921 @definegirlfriendsx

[neverinadream]

Garden Of Eden (Part Two)

Last Part // Next Part

Summary: Some things were not meant to be touched and to Quinn Y/N was meant to be untouchable.

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reade

Requested: Nope

Warnings: uses of she/her pronouns, some suggestive language, best friend's brother trope, sneaking around, clunky writing 🫣, edited but not really edited...i think that's it

Notes: eek, it's been a few months since i posted the first part huh? sorry, i did write most of a second part and then i lost it, so most of this is from memory. i also forgot i wrote the first part in third person, so that was fun...er, yeah, this is just a filler chapter of sorts, nothing really exciting happens. anyway, feedback is appreciated!!

"Luke!" Y/N squeals her baking partner's name, coughing through a large cloud of flour as it plumes into the air. She waves her hands, quickly trying to dispel the dust, but only makes it worse, her coughing intensifying as she breathes some of it in. He drops the bowl, quickly coming to her aid, matching her coughs as he wafts the cloud in his direction. "What are you doing?" She asks, spinning to face him.

He tilts his head like a confused puppy. "I'm putting the flour in-" He points to his phone, the instructions displayed on his screenm "-Just like it says."

"Bit by bit," she stresses, reading the part he had evidently missed, "not throw it all in."

"Oh." He hides his face, concealing his laugh in the palm of his hand, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "I guess I missed that part."

"You guess?" She gives him a soft shove, but never catches the giggle that rolls off her lips; the light sound eases some of his worry. "It should be alright, right?" She looks up at him for some reassurance. He shrugs, mumbling something she doesn't catch under his breath. "Here," she pushes the bowl to him, dragging it through spilt flour, creating white powdery streaks across the counter, "mix."

"Me?"

"You're stronger than me." She gives his bicep a poke, a light blush coating his cheeks. "Now fix the mess you made," she mumbles, looking down at the flour decorating her chest. She only makes it worse trying to dust it off, her forehead creasing with a harsh line as she rubs it. "Be back in a second-"

"What?!" Luke's head snaps up in her direction, watching her leave for the door. "Don't leave me with this." He begs her with panic in his eyes.

Y/N stops at the door, her hand touching the frame, a small smile touching her lips, as she turns to look back at him. "It's just brownie batter, Luke," she teases, "what's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, if I suddenly start the end of the world because I mixed this wrong, that's on you!" He calls after her. She laughs, shaking her head at his dramatics.

Quinn emerges from the bathroom, his chest fluttering as he hears the faint sound of Y/N's laugh floating up the stairs. It was light and cheerful, often representing who she was. The first time he heard her laugh, properly laugh, the kind where her smile would meet her eyes and reflect the happiness she felt in that moment, was the moment he had decided to always make her laugh. And though he never considered himself to be the funniest, his plan to make her laugh had worked so far.

The jokes could be cringey, or just down right unfunny, but she would always laugh.

He watches her jog up the stairs, her hand gliding along the railing, before coming to an abrupt stop at the top. She dips her eyes down to the towel wrapped around his waist, before panning up over his chest, looking at the droplets still sitting on his skin. Heat rises up her neck and sits on her cheeks as he begins to smirk.

"Don't say it-"

"Say what?" Quinn cuts her off with a chuckle, dipping to sneak a kiss. He knew he shouldn't but the temptation was too strong to resist. “I was just going to say good morning,” he adds, sneaking another kiss. His eyes flicker down to her t-shirt. "Is that flour?"

She looks down at her chest. "It could be..."

"What else could it be?"

"Drugs," she looks back up at him, "me and Luke were doing hard-core drugs. He wanted to snort it off my boobs."

He laughs. "Fun morning then?"

She presses up onto her tiptoe, closing the distance between them, connecting their lips again with a soft kiss. It tingles and lingers on his mouth, teasing him into wanting more. "Even better now that I've seen you," she replies, her hand drifting out to wipe away a droplet of water still on his chest. The things she would've done to have woken up with her head on his chest. Just the mere thought of it sends warmth to her cheeks.

Two days had passed since Quinn had asked her to trust him and for two days he had been racking his brain of ways they could have their 'first' date. Take her out for dinner? Too basic. Go see a movie? He didn't want to sit in silence for ninety minutes. Every idea he had was met with a thick line slashed through it, and the worry that his brothers would either get suspicious, or be offended that they hadn't gotten an invite.

But her week with them was quickly coming to an end and he had to act quickly.

"Tonight," he blurts out, meeting her raised eyebrows with a lopsided smile. He takes a steady breath, drawing in the smell of coconuts that lingered in her hair. "Let's do something tonight."

She glances over her shoulder, but the flutter of excitement in her chest has a smile breaking out. "Like what?"

Quinn shrugs. "It's a surprise." She sighs his name. "This will be a good surprise," he reassures her, not knowing what the surprise will be. His hand moves to her face, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. "One you'll like because none of your exes will be there this time."

Y/N didn't like surprises.

Her surprise eighteenth birthday party had been dampened by her mother deciding to invite her ex-boyfriend, whom she had broken up with two days before. Jack watched her cry for the first thirty minutes, grumbling threats under his breath and passing her tissues to dry her eyes. Quinn stopped anyone from going into the upstairs bathroom, nearly pushing one of her cousins down the stairs. And Luke, as sweet as he's always been to her, tried his best to intimidate her ex with sharp glares and throwing up a finger when no one else was looking.

She declared there and then that she would no longer be a victim to any more surprises.

Her eyes flicker down to his waist, the plush white towel secured tightly, but not tight enough that it wouldn't come away with one single tug. "This is teasing me," she purrs, fingers wiggling at her side, itching to touch him.

"Kinda like those shorts you're currently wearing," he replies, licking his lips and panning his eyes down her legs. His hand moulds to the shape of her hip, connecting them as she climbs the last few steps. "You were wearing these around Luke?"

She bites her lip, trying to stop herself from smiling. "Jealous?"

"Maybe a little," he wasn't ashamed to admit, "Lukey's always had a bit of a schoolboy crush on you." He nuzzles his face into her neck, stumbling them both back against the wall and out of sight. Y/N tips her head back, breath catching in her throat and fighting the urge to whimper as he marks the column of her neck with soft kisses. "He'd hump your leg like some crazed dog in heat if he could," Quinn grumbles into her ear, kissing the soft spot behind it.

"So would you," she giggles.

"Okay," he nods from side to side, a grin creeping onto the corners of his mouth, "but the difference is you'd let me."

She walks her fingers up his chest. "Would I?"

He grabs her hips, pulling her away from the wall, flushing her up against his body. "Are we forgetting what happened the other day?" She wraps her arms around him, whimpering under her breath as he nips at her neck. "You were practically begging me to fuck you."

"A girl has needs," she brushes him off, fisting her fingers through the back of his hair. The wet curls tangle around her digits and she gives them a soft tug, pulling his mouth to align with hers. "And there's only so much that I can do myselfl," she whispers, teasingly licking at his bottom lip.

Quinn releases a low groan, his cock standing at half-mast thinking about Y/N pleasuring herself. He shakes his head but it does nothing to rid him of the thought.

"I think I should be allowed a peek," she looks down at his waist, heat licking up her spine when she spies the slight bulge.

"Ha!" He barks a laugh. "Nice try, cutie."

He takes a step back, resting one hand on the top of his towel and tousles his fingers through his wet hair. His eyes settle on her as he takes a soft breath, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small smile. A slight blush creeps onto the bridge of his nose.

"What?" She asks, trying to read his face.

"I-"

A loud shriek and whizzing sound come from the kitchen, silencing Quinn and gaining both of their attention. Something heavy gets knocked to the floor, hitting the ground with a loud clang, followed up with a series of expletives and more various thuds and bangs.

"Turn it off! Turn it off!" Luke shouts as both she and Quinn approach the kitchen, him hanging back as Y/N steps inside.

Her mouth gapes at the mess. The bag of flour had been knocked off the counter, eggs had been cracked and crushed on the flour, the mixing bowl was nowhere for her to see, and globs of sticky brownie mix were on every surface she could see. And there, standing in the middle of the mess, were her culprits, her best friend doubled over in hysterics and Luke turning redder by the second as frantically tried to stop the batter from flying everywhere.

"Jack, turn it off!" Luke glares at his older brother, bits of brownie batter sticking to his face and hair.

Jack stuffs his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone, snapping pictures of Luke. "This is too good," he laughs, tears already forming from laughing so hard. "I'm sending these to Tiff."

Luke rips the plug from the socket and the whizzing sound stops. "Don't you dare!" He disappears behind the island counter and re-emerges with the mixing bowl, most of the brownie batter now missing, and a electric whisk. "Oh, shit," he swallows a large breath, cheeks turning pink as he spots Y/N.

"Yeah," Y/N nods, crossing her arms over her chest, "shit, indeed."

"It's his fault!" Luke was quick to point the blame at Jack, throwing out his arm and pointing his finger.

Jack shoves his arm. "Fucking liar!"

Luke shoves him back. "It was your idea to use the whisk!"

"But I wasn't the idiot who turned it onto the highest setting, was I?!" Jack fires back, rolling his eyes. He quickly snaps another picture of Luke, giggling as he does, his mouth forming a cheeky grin. "Oi!"

Luke snatches his phone, laughing at Jack as he turns, blocking his attempts to get it back. "What's the matter?" He taunts, circling the island, the sound of egg shells crunching under his feet. "Too slow to keep up?"

"You wish!" Jack wobbles, nearly slipping on some egg yolk. He groans, lifting his foot to inspect the mess of mushed egg yolk and shell sticking to the bottom of his sock. He glares at Luke. "Look what you made me do!"

Walking through flour and stepping over crushed shells, Y/N takes the phone from an unsuspecting Luke, who whimpers as she grabs the phone out of his hand. "There," she mumbles, deleting the photos and handing it back to Jack, "all gone."

Luke smiles and Jack frowns. "You're meant to be on my side," he mutters, pocketing his phone.

Taking another look at the mess, she sighs. "Just...get it all cleaned up." She looks across at Jack, who is laughing at Luke, mumbling some comment about him hoping he has fun cleaning up. "Both of you."

Jack groans. "What?!"

"You heard me," she bites back, spinning to leave, ignoring the bickering that had erupted behind her. Quinn just smiles as she approaches. "Tonight couldn't come quick enough," she whispers, sliding past him, giving him one last look over her shoulders as she hurries up the stairs.

"And where are you going?"

The handle slips out of her hand, her arm dropping to her side. "Great," she mutters under her breath. Should've just gone out of the window.

She turns, finding Luke with his curls all in a mess and dressed only in a pair of shorts, looking like he had just rolled out of bed in search of a late-night snack. A small light shines in from the kitchen, half illuminating him.

A small smile pulls on the corners of her mouth, the gears in her brain working fast to come up with a convincing lie. "For…a walk." She cringes, even she wouldn't have believed her lie.

He lifts his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest. "It's a little late for a walk," he states, leaning against the doorframe, "maybe I should come with you."

"I'm a big girl, Luke," she replies, playing with her sleeve. Her phone buzzes in her back pocket but she ignores it. "There's nothing too big or too scary that I can't handle." Her phone buzzes again. "Let's remember which one of us hid behind a cushion the first time we watched Scream."

He stares back at her, showing no signs of amusement. "Not going to get that?" He peels one arm away from the other and points to her.

She shakes her head. “No.”

"No?" He unfolds his other arm, slipping both his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "Could be urgent."

"It's not." She pulls her phone out with a sigh. All she sees is a black screen as she pretends to check it. Her eyes flicker up at Luke and then back down at the blank screen, trying to sell it. "Nope, not urgent," she mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest, and tucking her phone under her arm, "why are you trying to change the subject?"

Pushing away, he takes long strides, stopping to stand in front of her. She meets his eyes as he scans her face, searching for the truth in her deception. "Why are you acting so suspicious?"

She tilts her head to the right, eyes narrowed and never breaking contact with his. "Do you always answer a question with another question?"

He straightens up, but the extra height doesn't intimidate her. She still remembers the kid who would cry if he wasn't allowed to join in on her and Jack's sleepovers. "Why? Does it annoy you?" She rolls her eyes. "Come on," he whines, throwing his hands into the air for dramatics, "we don't keep secrets from each other."

"We don't?" Luke shakes his head. "Oh really?" Again, he shakes his head. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. "Then why did I have to hear that you slept with Tiff?" Tiffany, Tiff for short, was her closest friend. After Jack, of course.

His face grows white. "Jack told you?"

"Yes, he told me!" She unfurls her arm to swat the back of her hand against his chest. He sighs, rubbing the spot. "Why are you ghosting her?" His eyes drop to the ground. "Luke?!" He doesn't budge. "Fine, I'll just go ask Jack; I'm sure you probably told him."

"And I'll tell Jack about you and Quinn," he blurts out the threat, the corners of his mouth pulled upwards into a smug grin.

Her eyes grow wide, a lump the size of Michigan lodged in her throat preventing her from speaking. She swallows it down but has nothing to say. No quickly thought-up lie to lead him off the trail.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "I see everything." She opens her mouth but still nothing comes out. "Jack might be blind to what's going on, but I'm not. I see you both, with your little lovey-dovey stares and sitting too close to each other during movie nights." He motions it all with his fingers. "Not to mention, Quinn was acting all weird when we got back the other day. I'd say you two were up to no good."

"Up to no good?" She says, laughing. "What are you? A fifty year old man?"

He rolls his eyes, laughing with her before falling serious again. "Look, I don't care. If you and Quinn are together then I'm cool with that, but just don't keep it from Jack." She lowers her eyes. "You know he'll only get pissed that you kept it from him," Luke adds, "like that one time you secretly went on a date with that one guy from you math class-"

Her eyes snap back up to him. "How do you know about that?"

"Did you not just hear me?" He throws his hands up with a smile and a dramatic flourish. "I know everything, Y/N. Everything."

"Everything?"

Luke nods. "I'm like a Marauder's Map."

"I'm pretty sure that only knew the location of people," she tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowed up at him, "Not their secrets."

He softly flicks the centre of her forehead, chuckling as she bats his hand away like a cat to a fly. "Okay, nerd."

She rubs her forehead. "Can I go now?" He takes a step back, pocketing his hands. Giving him a small smile, she tucks her phone into her pocket, before mouthing thank you as she turns to leave.

NHL Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @chilwellspulisic @lovelynikol16 @love4lando

[c-h-i-m-es]

geto suguru

never in your lifetime would you have imagined that you'd have to call someone to come pick you up. from jail.

how did you even end up behind the bars? the last thing that you have a proper memory from tonight was you and ari, your friend were club hopping.

she finally broke up with her sad excuse of a boyfriend of almost two years. when she called you over at her place, hearing her announce she dumped him was not on even the back of your mind.

to celebrate her break up, you two made plan to drink the night away. it was all fun and games until she started complaining she had to pee right when you were in the way to another club three streets away.

"why didn't you go before we left the club when you've been complaining about your overflowing bladder since the last hour?" you pull her body close to yours, helping her drunk self walk.

"bitch i forgot about it then! i swear it's gonna leak out." she bends down, crossing her legs. you look around the place you currently are, trying to think if there's any public bathroom around. "try not to think about it, 'kay? only few blocks away. please." you try to drag her so she could just continue walking.

"if i stand up, it's not gonna hold." she speaks, biting her lower lips while you don't know if you should laugh or cry at the situation. "want me to get you a bottle or what?" 

"where do you think you'll even get a bottle out of nowhere? from a dumpster-" she snapped her head to you, "girl i'm gonna take a piss." you look at her confused as she gets up, tightly sealing her lips together as she jogs to the little gap between two buildings.

without questioning, you follow her, seeing her get behind a dumpster, pulling her little dress up and her undies down. you pause, shocked at what goes on in her mind. you cover your face with your hands, embarrassed of her behavior, turning away from the sight of her squatting down.

you don't know where the cops were but that's basically how you are where you are.

"bitch i told you to hold it." you say as you get up to walk out the cell to call someone. she pouts at you, eyes closed and head resting on the wall behind her, "that was the nicest i felt in ages."

the officer hands you the phone, "you get one call and you only have five minutes." he gives you a look and walks away. you curse at him in your head and call your boyfriend. you pray that he picks up even though it is two in the morning and he is probably sleeping.

a few more rings later, he picks the call making you let out a relieved breath, "hello-" "suguru, come pick me up please."

he takes a second to himself, "y/n? what- are you okay?" you hear his movements, probably him getting out of bed to come to you. "uh huh i'm fine. i'm sorry but can you come pick us up?"

"okay where are you?"

"of course. it's just you and ari?" "yeah it's just us."

"the police station."

one second. two second. and the third second. "what?"

"don't ask me, will you come?"

"of course y/n." you hear him sigh, "gosh you didn't kill someone did you?"

you gasp, "no! why would you think that? just get here quick."

almost an hour later, you finally walk out with geto and ari out of the police station. "this is.. freedom." ari chuckles at herself, spreading her arms and taking in a deep breath.

you scoff at her, "girl, stop tryna be eren yeager." you boyfriend chuckles from besides you, "i cannot believe this even happened."

"it's always trouble with this girl, i swear." you wrap your arms around his, leaning your body on his. your friend looks back at you, "hey at least it's a whole new thing that you got to experience."

"but if you think about it, it your boyfriend- ex's fault you went to jail." you and your friend look at geto then at each other. "think about it."

you both gasp at the same time, "give me my phone." she asks geto who just gives it to her and hands you yours. "whatchu gonna go?"

"that bitch never fails to make everything about himself. i finally broke up with him and when we go out to celebrate, we end up in jail?" she types something in her phone and brings it to her ear.

knowing exactly what's happening, you rest your head on geto's arm while you both watch your friend start cursing at her ex over the phone.

not even two minutes into her screaming into the phone and you two laughing, a cop comes out, "it's literally just night for most people. could you keep it down?"

geto apologises to the cop and you drag your friend to where geto parked his car, "please.. you can do that tomorrow."

she gets in the back seat while you sit in the passenger seat. he drives to ari's place and stops in front of her building. "can you get to your room on your own?" you ask, doubtfully looking at her.

"geez of course i can. all that screaming cleared my mind a little. i can manage. you two go ahead." you blow her a kiss and geto drives away. now that it's only the two of you, you turn your body to him, "you look so hot right now."

he was in his night sweatpant and basic white oversized tee. his usual night wear. and his hair messily tied in a bun. yeah, very hot.

you smile at his words and stare at him, getting lost in the thoughts. there's a comfortable silence between the two of you before he speaks, "i didn't know you could go to jail for pissing in public."

he looks at your for a brief moment, chuckling before he brings his eyes back on the road. "i could say the same about you, pretty."

you gasp, "oh thank god it's not just me. i was thinking they are pranking us when they said they're taking us because ari pissed behind a dumpster."

if something with the cops doesn't make sense idk either lmao

[foxglovepng]

Hello! I don’t know if you write this kind of thing, but could I have a silly little crack fic about Grim sabotaging different boys’ attempts at flirting with the prefect? Little guy has gotta look out for his henchhuman, y’know?

Characters: Ace, Cater, Floyd, Rook.

CW: Ace's part mentions his ex, Bit of blood in Floyd's part, Cater's is kind of sad, Rook is Rook.

A/N: Hello Anon! I hope this is to your liking. I made Ace's part kind of long and since you didn't specify which characters I just let the wheel picker decide. I feel I may have written Grim a little OOC so apolgies for that I don't normally write for him, but I do love a challenge.

If you liked it reblogs and likes are always greatly appreciated!!

Not proofread

Ace- He nitpicks at his attempts/ruins them

After the events of Riddle, Leona’s, Azul’s, and the Jamil overblot he wasn’t present for. Ace had started taking a liking to prefect they were close after spending so much time together and he liked Yuu however a certain cat had other plans. Ace was always worried that he wouldn’t date anyone especially after what happened with his ex-girlfriend he was worried he wouldn’t be able to date the prefect, so subtle hints of flirting he gave to the prefect. However Grim started taking a notice to Ace’s behavior towards his henchman and didn’t really like that. The next time Ace would try anything Grim would try and stop it. 

“Henchman, can you get me some more Tuna?” Grim asked

“Grim I just got you some Tuna we barely have the expenses to get you more. I still need to eat as well.” Yuu spoke as Grim sighed, mumbling something. 

“Yo prefect.” Ace’s voice was heard as the Prefect turned to look at the red head who was jogging over.

“Hey Ace. What did you get on the test yesterday?” Yuu asked

“I got a 100%.” He crossed his arms proudly

“In your dreams you did.” Grim spoke 

“What! No, I totally got an A.” Ace defended himself

“It was an easy test so I would hope you get an A.” Yuu spoke giggling a bit.

“Anyways. Prefect you wanna grab some lunch? I’ll pay.” Ace offered flashing a cheeky smile.

“Yeah I.” Prefect was cut off by Grim, “Actually we were going to the library to study.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have some lunch Grim.” Yuu spoke

“Yeah I can totally help you guys study as well.” Ace spoke

Grim gave up as Yuu started walking with Ace to the cafeteria. Grim was obviously annoyed. He needs his Henchmen to not dally off with boys that will distract them from him becoming a great mage.

“You had a basketball game recently, right? You were pretty amazing.” Yuu spoke to Ace

“I have to do well, so I won’t be benched. You should come to my games more often. It would help if you were cheering me on.” Ace nudged Yuu

“If you want a personal cheerleader you could just hire one y’know.” Grim crossed his arms

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Ace rubbed the back of his neck

“I don’t mind going to your games, in fact I really like seeing you do something you’re passionate about.” Yuu spoke which made Ace turn red a bit.

“Can we go back to studying? You two are getting off track.” Grim spat

“Jeez Grim, it was just some small conversation.” Ace spoke

It went silent as the air felt heavy. The only sounds of pencil writing and pages of textbooks flipping. Eventually it was almost time to go to class.

“We should probably get to leaving class is going to start soon.” Yuu spoke

“Yeah. I’ll meet you at class.” Ace spoke feeling defeated by Grim’s tactics who felt quite proud of himself. Maybe Ace will have another chance to tell Yuu how he feels.

Cater- Ruins photos/Justs gets in the way

Cater enjoyed hanging out with Yuu a lot and he always tried to find a way to hang out with Yuu. Taking photos while hanging out to save for memories incase Yuu ever decides to leave this world he has something to remember Yuu. Whenever Yuu needed help or needed something he was always offering just to spend time with Yuu. However as of recently due to Halloween being at the end of the month and midterms coming up Yuu hasn’t had a lot of time to spend with Cater not to mention Grim is also finding a way to try and keep Yuu busy. Grim didn’t want his Henchman to get distracted by one of the coolest and chillest third years. Cater started picking up on Grim’s behavior but just pushed it off as he just wanted the both of them to work hard so they don't get expelled.

“Hey Yuu.” Cater walked up to the Prefect.

“Hey Cay. Sorry we haven’t been hanging out a lot, just been so busy.” Yuu spoke

“It’s no biggie. We can find a way to hang out soon.” He spoke

“Do you have any unbirthday parties coming up soon? Maybe I can attend.” Yuu spoke

“We do actually I was going to see if you can come anyways. It’s on Friday at the usual time.” Cater spoke

“Yeah I’d love to come.” Yuu spoke

“Henchman.” Grim’s yell was heard as he came running up to the prefect. Jumping on them, climbing on them to their shoulder.

“Hey Grimmy.” Cater greeted Grim.

“Can we go to Sam’s please?” Grim begged, ignoring Cater.

“You aren’t going to get 20 cans of Tuna are you?” Yuu asked

“Please.” Grim started begging gripping Yuu’s shoulder.

“Okay we can go. I’ll see you later Cater.” Yuu spoke as Cater waved and they both left.

Cater felt sad. He wanted to hang out with his favorite freshman, but of course they got caught up with something. Cater would also feel upset seeing the message Yuu sent the very next day saying they can’t make it to the birthday party another hangout ruined.

Floyd- He ruins any food/gets defensive whenever Floyd gets too close

Floyd liked his shrimpy, he loved the way Shrimpy hung out with him, he loved the way he got to squeeze his shrimpy. However Floyd’s been noticing the baby seal has been passive aggressive to him recently. He’s also been noticing food he makes for Shrimpy also gets ruined. Floyd has done many checks no one in the kitchen is messing with prefects food, and it’s certainly not Jade or Azul doing it. Azul started complaining Floyd is spending resources on food that doesn’t get paid or eaten so eventually he had to stop the free food for his shrimpy. Jade has pointed out it could be the doing of Grim, but Floyd isn’t hoping Grim would go that far. Would he?

Prefect decided to pay a visit to the Octavinelle trio mainly to check up on everyone and see how they are doing. Grim was getting antsy because he wanted to go back to ramshackle to take his daily nap. Floyd was working a shift, but decided he was going to take just a small break to go see his shrimpy.

“Shrimpy.” Yuu heard Floyd’s voice as he came from behind them and squeezed them. Grim got fed up from wanting to take a nap and Floyd so he did what his instinct told him to do.

“Grim.” Yuu called as there were lines that started to bleed on Floyd’s arm. Grim had scratched Floyd and he didn’t look pleasant with that. Yuu pulled Grim away as Jade looked shocked watching the interaction.

“Brother let me go get the first aid kit.” Jade spoke walking off as Floyd exhaled and walked away. Baby seal is getting a talking to tomorrow and not a fun one.

Rook - He destroys love letters & poetry

Yuu had caught the eye of Rook. Naturally from not being from his world he took interest in the Prefect and fell for their beauty. Rook is a gentle poetic lover meaning the Prefect is his muse. Rook has definitely caught on that Grim does not like him, but would never think Grim would go as far to destroy his pieces of work to protect Yuu. Rook would send letters and Poetry to Yuu every day, and even went as far to handing the letters directly to Yuu before grim threw them away, not caring about either one’s opinions. 

Rook deemed it as a challenge and decided he would use any means necessary to make sure the prefect knows they are valued and appreciated. Rook is simply a poet and Yuu is simply his muse; he wishes to know every bit of them if they decide to leave his world.

Even if Yuu decided to leave in a poet's eyes the muse lives on forever.

-

Special mention

Malleus- …

Grim is dead before he can intervene with the courtship of him and his child of man (/hj)

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Strange Emotions

Prompt: Joining the Straw Hats, you can't help but have conflicting emotions about the first mate.

NSFW

Roronoa Zoro x Fem Reader

When you first hopped onto the Thousand Sunny you were slightly excited and a little scared for what was to come. It’s not everyday when a world criminal comes to town and happily asks you to join his crew. It certainly wasn’t what you were expecting considering everything he’s done.

         What’s more is that most of his crew members were just as equally happy and chill. None of them seemed like cold hearted pirates, Nami was excited to have another woman aboard and while you were frightened when you first met Brook, you realized he was just a joker when he asked what color your panties were, you hoped at least. Sanji in particular was practically drooling over you when Luffy first brought you aboard.

         And then there was Zoro, who upon hearing Sanji coo compliments your way immediately took up his swords towards his own crewmate. You couldn’t help but to be startled, seeing the tall swordsmen who could clearly hold his own. His scarred body only proving point that he had been through plenty of battles in the past. This must be the exception; he must be the typical Pirate everyone thinks about. The Straw Hat crew had to have at least one stereotypical pirate and this was it. You make a mental note not to venture onto Zoro’s bad side, maybe even avoid him after he shot you a glare.

         Franky was the one who gave you a tour of the whole ship and you were most excited about the weight room that doubled as the crows nest. There were a couple weights you doubted anyone could pick up but there were more than plenty that you could make into your work-out. After setting out on an unfamiliar ship with a new crew, you were glad to have some place you could let the stress out.

         And that’s just what you ended up doing the very next day, everyone seemed to be doing something or relaxing. Even Zoro was napping in the shade so you decided to sneak on up to the place you could work out until your muscles burned. When you finally stood in the room you realized just how spacious it was, the tour was quick but this was much better now that you took the time to look at everything.

         The windows opened to create a cool cross breeze that you were thankful for when you start working up a sweat. It had been a while since you could do this for as long as you wanted, often interrupted by a friend or not having enough time to get into the bliss of working out. You were so focused on your sets that you hadn’t realized someone else enter the room.

         Zoro noticed as he was climbing up that someone else was already up there. He had almost forgotten about you since he hasn’t seen you since you were brought on the ship by Luffy, but his memory was jogged when he realized everyone else was on the deck doing their own things. He grunted at the thought of you wrecking his equipment but figured you went up for the view more than anything else.

         But he was sorely mistaken once he got in the crow nest. The smell of sweat heavy in the air and the breeze covering it up enough as the slight panting hit his ears. He had not expected this sight. You in skin tight shorts and a sports bra, the muscles on your back straining as you do another lunge with weights over your shoulder. He’ll admit, your form was impeccable.

         After a couple of lunges Zoro finally snapped out of letting his eyes wander your body before deciding not to disrupt you. He hated when someone called out to him when he was trying to train so he wouldn’t dare to it to another person. Instead, he turned his back and went to do his own thing on the other side of the room, ignoring your presence entirely.

         When you finally did notice someone else was in the room was when Zoro dropped his weight, a large thud that startled you out of your own trance. Turning around to see what happened you turned cold when you realized who was there with you. He didn’t even bother a glance your way when you let a small squeak escape your lips. Maybe he hadn’t noticed my presence at all and had just gotten to his own workout? You decided not to test the waters of this theory and quickly cleaned up, leaving at quietly as possible, deciding to make a Bee-line to the showers.

         Once you were in the warm water you thought back to the situation. Despite not fully trusting him or feeling relaxed around him, you must admit that his body was nice. Hot even. You wondered how those arms would feel around you, the strength they must hold. The strength. You remember the weight that had crashed to the floor, the size of it. And you were snapped back to reality of the horrifying realization of his superhuman strength.

~~~

         Zoro kept his eye on you over the weeks. He couldn’t help but notice you, how you’d duck out of the room when you catch his staring. The way you were able to keep up with the work on a ship, how you kept to yourself most of the time but happily indulged in their Captains whims. And then there was whenever you’d workout. You’d zone out every time, the only thing that would snap you out of it was a loud noise.

         Zoro had noticed how you’d leave quickly after making a small gasp or squeal as you would clean up and practically run out of the room. Whenever he’d enter to see you he couldn’t help but to watch, he hated how you were avoiding him. He had gotten the occasional hi or a small conversation while eating with everyone else, but why could you talk to the pervy cook and not him? He hated how his chest got tight whenever you’d smile at Usopp or Luffy, but couldn’t spare him a glance.

         He grunted as he dropped his weights. Ignoring his thoughts had been harder than he imagine, how was he supposed to focus when you kept popping up. Walking to the window he grabbed his canteen and glanced at the deck below him, taking note of people positions but noticing a clear lack of you.

         The sun was gone for the night so he assumed you had just turned in early like Robin while he continued to watch out into the sea. It was his turn for night watch so he’d be here a while.

~~~

         “Oh Y/N,” Nami yells out to you as you dried the last dish, “Could you make sure the big oaf gets a snack or something to drink? I don’t want to wake up to him sleeping again.” Her exasperated voice clear as she swung her head back in disbelief that someone on watch would go to sleep.

         You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever but this was a little much, sadly your small excuses were no match for Nami and she yells a thanks and points to the trey that Sanji had already prepared. Before you knew it you were left alone entirely with and you sighed in defeat, taking the trey before starting the climb up, letting your thoughts run wild.

         As the weeks went by you couldn’t help but let your heart skip at your dangerous crew member. You had seen some good sides, he was almost always the first person to jump in after Luffy if he had fallen in. And he at the very least, tolerated the childish behavior, even indulging in Chopper’s love of candy. But you still couldn’t help but feel a bit afraid, his strength alone could easily kill you. This mixture of feelings often left you confused and every so often, your mind would wander to some unspeakable topics.

         Shaking your head of your dubious thoughts you get think back to your situation. You’re sure he wouldn’t notice if you just slid the trey in, right? But then it’d be on the floor and what if he stepped on it? The thought made you feel guilty even if it hadn’t actually happened. As you approached the door you decided to take a peek and try to sneak it in on the bar before disappearing through the door again. It couldn’t be that hard right?

         Opening the door you saw his back turned towards you, which was absolutely perfect. Although he was just staring out the window so you’d have to be quiet if you didn’t want to get caught. You had barely set the trey down when you turned around to see him staring at you, your face turning red at being caught.

         “I, I’m just leaving this for you, have a good watch,” You quickly say, attempting to make your way to the trap door quickly, not wanting an awkward encounter. Nothing about this situation was good for your heart or your mind. The dim light barely illuminating his toned chest as he walks closer to you.

         “What’s your problem?” His harsh tone making you still as he traps you inside the crow’s nest with him. “You get along with everyone but can’t even look at me.” His frame towering over you as even now you were avoiding his gaze.

         “I don’t have a problem-“ You pipe out but jump as he hits the wall next to you. He walks by you, only the wind of his movement touching you as he grabs the bottle of Sake you had brought up. You heart feeling heavy as you look over your shoulder, watching him take a swig. “Zoro I-“

         “Just leave. I get it, you don’t like me” His voice was firm, the glare he shot you making you shiver but the guilt just building more. You can’t just leave if it’s going to make you feel worse.

         Taking a deep breath, you turn to face him, walking up and taking the bottle from his hands. A large gulp before handing the bottle back and taking another deep breath, “I’ve been avoiding you because I don’t know if I’m scared of you or Attracted to you.” The words leaving you quickly while you were making eye contact with him. You straighten up a bit at the silence, “Now then, since that’s out in the open I’m gonna take me leave.” You turn on your heel, your cheeks feeling hot with embarrassment but your chest lighter.

         You slap your hands to your cheeks as you make your was to the door again, only to be stopped with a had on your shoulder. “Scared or attracted?” Zoro’s voice echoed as he spun you around to face him once again, “How does that even make any sense?”

         His intense stare breaking your walls as you can’t stop yourself from more of a confession, “It makes perfect sense! You lift like 10 tons; you could break me in an instance and yet I can’t help but think about how fucken amazing the sex would be.” Your embarrassment growing further as his grip on your shoulder tightens slightly as silence fills the room again.

         Crossing your arms in front of you, you glance up at his face to see a stupid smirk played across his lips, “Oh yea?” He leans in close to you, “Do you want to find out?” You inhale sharply, eyes going wide at his invitation as he watches your every move. You bite your lip, debating your next move. You had partially hoped this was some sick joke he was playing on you but knew otherwise. Your eyes wonder over his body again, taking in his toned chest, how the outline of the muscles are so clear. His hand finds its way to under your chin, lifting your head to look back at his face as his other hand wraps around you, resting on your lower back, “Looking at the goods without committing is quite insulting.”

         You glance down at his lips before looking back up at his eye. “Maybe I was taking in the view before my mind was too overwhelmed with pleasure,” The playful bite back seems to amuse Zoro as he leans down for a second to grab your butt, squeezing just enough to let you know to jump up as you wrap your legs around his waist. His other hand snaking around your neck and pulled your head closer to his as your tongues start a war that makes you dizzy.

         You grip at his arms before you feel your back brush against the wall. You push him back slightly, noticing just how hard his chest really is before lifting your shirt over your head before Zoro goes back into the kiss, biting your lip in the process. You groan at the dull pain, tugging at his hair slightly while grinding your hips into him.

         “Needy aren’t you?” His growl making you want more as he lets you go. You watch as he strips himself of his clothes and you follow suit before reattaching yourself to him, a hand dancing around his growing member, “If you’re gonna touch me than do it.” A small tug at your hair making you moan before you grasp the base of his dick.

         You use your other hand to push him back as you drop to your knees, pumping his dick slightly until it’s fully hard. Looking up at him as you lick the tip, hearing him curse under his breath. You can’t help but smile slightly before taking him in your mouth, closing your eyes as you bob your head up and down, feeling the slight thrust every now and then.

         “Christ Y/N…” Zoro curses again when he feels you deepthroat his length, ignoring the gag you felt coming as you tried getting him deeper. You reach on of your hand down, feeling the throbbing uncomfortable mess between your thighs. The second one of your fingers touch your clit you moan around his dick. You pump two fingers inside of you as your thumb plays with your clit, the bundle of nerve driving you insane as you take in the scent of the man in front of you.

         The grip in your hair tightens slightly and you can’t help but to speed up slightly, gripping your hand around his cock tighter as you twist with your bobbing, curling your fingers inside of you to try and reach that special spot. But just as you were building up your own pleasure, you were ripped away from his cock, and pushed to the ground entirely. “Trying to finish before getting to the main course?” The harsh grunt making you gasp as your lips were attacked by his.

         Just as quick, he lifted one of your legs, gripping your thigh as he leaned back to look down at you. His thumb swiping over your dripping entrance before rubbing your clit into harsh but sweet circles, making you moan, lifting your chest off the floor. “Z-Zoro~” You cry out, grinding your hips closer to him and he grunts, removing his hand before you feel his tip slap against your entrance a couple of times.

         He pushes into you, finally filling your needy hole as you cry out in pleasure and he growl words you can’t quite hear. Soon enough your mind is filled with nothing but pleasure as he sets a slow but strong pace, pushing deeper every time as you feel yourself stretch around him.

         Screaming his name as your hands grip at his arms while he stares down at you, enjoying the moaning mess you’ve become. His thrusts getting harder as you feel him bruising your cervix with every thrust and a heat building closer and closer. You grip onto his shoulder, pulling him closer to you. Zoro obliges, taking your lips as tears spill from your eyes in pure ecstasy.

         You part from his lips when you feel his movements becoming erratic, moving your head to his shoulder where you bite down, your nails digging into his back as you try not to wake the whole ship with your orgasm. You can hear Zoro swearing as you pulse around him, your body shaking as you feel yourself relax after being pent up for so long.

         Zoro pulls out just in time to paint your stomach in thick globs of cum, sweat dripping down his forehead as you catch your breath. His eye flashes to yours and you decide to break the panting silence, “didn’t ruin your workout routine, did I?” The breathy taunt making him grunt.       

  “Well, I still have a couple sets to do

[yoongiseesawmp3]

cherry wine - seungcheol

summary: country boy!cheol. a small country town, a kind man with loving eyes, and a beautiful woman who carries around all her memories in a notebook. you're in love with cheol even if you can't admit it, and he has something he so desperately wants to tell you. but you both stay quiet, thinking that's what's best. you have no idea how wrong you are.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: vague mentions of a car accident/memory loss, afab reader, ummm the end made me cry? so.

masterlist

it's tuesday. tuesday is the day your yard guy comes by. his name is seungcheol, but he likes to be called cheol. he's got coffee brown eyes and a sweet smile, and he talks about his fiancée so much it's almost annoying.

you have to remind yourself of these little facts about everyone in your life. you have to remind yourself of these little facts about your own life. you have a little yellow notebook you keep all your information in, and you leaf through it several times a day hoping it will jog your memory. the sticker of a honey bee on the front is already worn down from hours of you stroking it soothingly as you try to memorize the contents. you're reading through it now, reminding yourself that you and cheol have known each other for years. you went to school together, and you remember being little kids running around your house with him and some of the other neighbors.

the sound of cheol's truck driving down your gravel driveway pulls your attention from your little yellow notebook, and you head to the porch to wave to him like you do every tuesday. he waves back, hopping out of his truck with a happy smile on his face. he's early today, so you assume the joy in his eyes is residual from spending the morning with his beloved fiancée. you don't know much right now, but you do know one thing: you hate this woman.

whoever she is, whatever she does, you hate her. hate the way she makes cheol feel. hate the way he seems so thrilled to talk about her, to share stories of her so openly with this hopeful look in his eyes. you know that look. it's the same look your sister had before she got married, like she had the rest of her life ahead of her. cheol has that same look in his eyes today, and it makes your chest ache because you feel like you're running behind.

ever since your accident, you've felt that way a lot. you're behind in your recovery. you're behind on bills, the envelopes from the hospital piling up on your kitchen table. you're behind in life, this stupid injury leaving you with a life you need to rebuild and no idea how to do it.

after you wave to cheol, you shuffle back inside, the distant sounds of him pulling his lawn equipment from the bed of the truck soothing somehow. you like keeping a window open while he works, even though he scolds you for it. he tells you that you're letting in pollen and grass and dust, but you don't mind. you like the slow hum, and the smell of freshly cut grass has always made you feel at home. you wonder which cheol would prefer today, lemonade, sweet tea, or just plain water, and you head back to the porch to catch him before he cranks up the lawnmower.

he stops when he sees you waving for him, your hair blowing into your face at the last minute with a strong morning breeze. you're glad cheol came early today. it's gonna be a hot one, so hopefully he can finish up with your lawn quickly before the sun gets to be too much. he takes a few steps closer to your porch to hear you clearly, and he admires the way a soft southern accent adds a lilt to your words as you ask, "water, lemonade, or ice tea?"

"water today," he tells you. "extra ice."

"you got it," you nod. "it'll be on the kitchen table, just knock before you come in. i've got some cupcakes for you too, make sure you stop by on your way home so you can take them to that fiancée of yours."

"sure thing," he smiles back at you, the smallest pang in his chest at your words. he shakes it off quickly, the first drop of sweat trickling down his back sending him into motion. he gets to work, going over your yard once with the lawnmower before moving on to the weedeater. your house is one of his easiest stops, not just because he's been doing work for you and your family for years, but because it's so compact. easy to mow, so uniform when it's done. he always admires his finished work, standing by his truck when he's done and doing a once over to make sure he got everything. more often than not he catches you staring at him through your open window, and when he turns to the house to come claim his drink of the day he smiles to himself knowing you saw him catch you.

he packs up his equipment and then does the final part of his routine here. he stops by the sunflower patch just outside your bedroom window, and he picks the brightest flowers to bring inside and refresh the vase you keep by the door. it was something he did for your mom when he first started his business, and she just loved it. he knows you do too, so he hums a happy little song as he brushes his hands over the sunflowers, deciding on the best.

as promised, he knocks before entering, taking in a deep breath as he pushes through the screen door to the welcoming honeysuckle scent of your home. this is where you grew up, inheriting your parent's place once they became too old to care for it anymore. they're not far from you, and cheol is surprised he doesn't find your mom in the kitchen with you for once. after changing out the flowers by your door, he comes into the kitchen. he smiles and mumbles his thanks as he reaches for the frosty glass of water, taking a look around before commenting, "you've painted in here?"

"yeah," you confirm, following his gaze around the kitchen as you both stare at the newly yellow walls. "dad kept suggesting it, and we found this color the other day when i took him to the store for chicken wire."

"i can't believe your dad still keeps chickens at his age," cheol laughs, and you join him.

"believe me, it's fun to watch," you giggle, the sound like the tinkling of your wind chimes by the back door. "but i don't think that man will ever stop working on his little projects. he's going to keep farming or building or painting until his body gives out."

"i hope i'm in that good of shape when i'm his age," cheol says, and you smile. not wanting to keep him from his other jobs, you perk up when you remember the cupcakes.

"here, before you go," you say, and cheol takes one final gulp of water knowing this is you telling him to leave, "i put the cupcakes in an old cooler, so don't worry about bringing it back. i just hope they don't melt in the heat today."

"thanks y/n," he says graciously, taking the small cooler from your warm hands. "i really appreciate it."

"let me know if you like them," you demand as you see him out. "tried a new recipe, so."

"i bet they're perfect, as always," cheol compliments, and you hate the way it makes your cheeks splotchy with a girlish blush. you say your goodbyes, and you close the door behind him with your heart beating quickly in your chest.

yeah, you really hate his fiancée.

-

cheol comes back to return the cooler the next day, even though you told him not to. you were in the middle of a meaningless task for work when you heard that familiar sound of his truck in your driveway, and for a split second you have a flashback to this exact moment. you, at your desk in your office, somehow expecting the sound of cheol's truck outside. you shake it off, sure that it's just one of those phantom memories your doctor told you about. or it could be a memory of any other tuesday, who knows. what you know now is that cheol is knocking at your front door, hand pressed to the speckled glass and eyes peering into your home. he smiles when he sees a flash of your hair, then the smile widens as you open the door with a confused look on your face.

"what are you doing?"

"came to return this to you, miss," he says in an overly polite tone that you hate yourself for giggling at. he motions to your house and you welcome him in, watching him move through your living room to your kitchen like he's done it hundreds of times before. you follow him, leaving the door open to let in the almost autumn breeze. he's standing by your fridge, carefully taking something out of the cooler with his tongue poked between his lips in concentration. "where should i put this? can you open the fridge?"

"what is it?" you ask cautiously, knowing whatever is in there was most likely made by her. you don't want it in your house, but you can't let cheol know that. you have to be polite, so you rush to help him, opening the fridge as you take a look at the container.

"it's banana pudding," he replies. "i seem to remember this is somebody's favorite dessert."

"you get your information from a reliable source," you tell him, taking the container from his hands completely. screw it, even if his angel fiancée made this you could at least give it a taste. you can't resist banana pudding, after all. "so did you like the cupcakes?"

"did i?" he laughs, rinsing his hands at your sink. he notices there's no towel on the rack, yet somehow he knows where you keep the fresh ones, reaching into the nearby drawer to grab a fall themed cloth to dry his hands. weird, you think, but not weird enough for you to comment on it. he goes on, saying, "it's a good thing i do manual labor for work, or i'd have to move in at the gym to get rid of the mess all your sweet treats seem to put me in."

"oh please," you scoff. "you'd be fine either way." he would, you think. he's so muscly, naturally strong but toned from years of hard work. his thick arms and broad chest make you wonder what it feels like to be held by him, your head resting just above his heart as you fall asleep...

"good to know," he says softly, pulling your mind from that strange place of deja vu you seem to keep traveling to. he watches you, unsure of what to say next, and you worry that you've made him uncomfortable. thankfully, he changes the subject, motioning to the dish in front of you to ask, "you're not gonna try any?"

"oh, um, well i was," you start off, and he watches you like he's hanging on to every word. "but i was going to wait until you leave. i don't need you to see me eating this straight from the dish you brought it in."

"be my guest," he smirks, again so seemingly comfortable in your kitchen as he reaches into the correct drawer to retrieve two spoons. he hands you one and he looks at you for permission before taking a scoop out of the corner closest to him. he hums at the taste, one eye on you as you do the same. he sees the recognition cross your features and waits.

suddenly, you don't want to eat this banana pudding. it's making you sick, the taste so familiar to you it has your stomach turning. this is your mom's recipe, you'd know it even if you closed your eyes and plugged your nose. what is cheol doing with your family recipe? better yet, what is his fiancée doing with your recipe? does she not have her own family she can mooch off of, she has to come to yours instead? cheol watches these conflicted emotions cross your face, and he calls your name quietly. again, to save face and be polite, you look up with a forced smile and nod, assuring him that it's delicious.

"so good," you lie. "my compliments to your fiancée."

"oh, sure," he nods stiffly. the mood has changed, it's gone from comfortable to awkward, and you watch cheol quickly clean up after himself so he can leave.

"really, thank her for me," you say as cheol dries his hands on his pants while he walks back to the front door. "and thank you for bringing the cooler back, you didn't have to."

"it was nice coming by for a visit," he says quietly, a sort of sad look in his eyes.

"i hope this wasn't out of your way," you tell him, and he shrugs.

"i like your company."

"oh," you whisper. cheol lets out a low whistle as he pats his pockets for his keys, and then his hand is on the door. "um, cheol?"

"yeah?" he asks, turning around quickly to find you worrying the bracelet around your wrist. a gold chain with a single charm: a little honey bee. his eyes flick from the bracelet back to your face as you continue.

"um, where'd your fiancée get that recipe for the pudding?"

"it's a family recipe," he replies. "she got it from her mom."

"that's nice," you nod, looking at cheol and not wanting him to leave. "well, thanks again. see you next tuesday."

"next tuesday," he nods, closing the door behind him and letting out a deep breath as he walks to his car.

-

your mom is reading in her garden when she sees cheol's truck coming down the driveway. even the sound of the engine is tired, so when cheol emerges with a worn look on his face she sighs knowing that his visit today didn't do the trick.

"how did it go?" she calls as cheol gets out of his truck. he shrugs and walks toward her with something in his hand. when he's close enough your mom realizes it's sunflowers from your house.

"i think it just upset her," cheol says sadly, and your mom's heart constricts. he hands her the flowers anyway, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her cheek in greeting. "it was a good idea though."

"aw, sugar, i'm sorry," she sighs, returning the kiss on cheol's opposite cheek. "i'll stop interfering, i'm afraid it always makes things worse."

"no ma'am," he shakes his head. "if you think of anything that can get her to remember me i need to try it. i want my girl back."

"we'll get her there," your mom reassures him. "i'm not due for any yard work, so did you come over just to give me these flowers?"

"no, i'm being a little selfish," cheol says as he shuffles his feet in the pebbled path. he keeps staring at the rocks he's pushing around as he says, "i don't have any other jobs today, but i don't want to go back home yet." he looks up at your mom then, lopsided smile on his face. "i miss her so much. figured seeing you and dad would make me feel better."

"bless your heart," your mom coos, patting cheol's cheek. "dad's out in the shed if you want to go do something manly."

"yes ma'am," he nods happily before loping off to the backyard.

when you and cheol first started dating, your parents were your biggest cheerleaders. they've loved cheol like their own since you were kids, so when you two became a couple it's like fate was taking its course. he took care of you, protected you, and worked hard to give you the life you deserved. you looked out for each other, your love so sweet it could rot the teeth of anyone watching. it broke your parents' hearts almost as much as cheol's to watch you forget him.

at first you didn't recognize him after the accident, asking who he was in the hospital and nodding in understanding when he answered. then one day you called your mom in a panic that there was a man in your house. it was cheol getting ready for work, but you sounded so scared everyone thought it was best for cheol to head back to his parent's for a little while. the doctor said this was normal, that it was best to be patient and wait for you to come around.

it's been weeks since that happened, and cheol is getting tired of it. your mom is tired of it too, sick of this limbo she knows you're in. that's why she suggests little things, like sending cheol over to you for yard work, house work, and sometimes just to jog your memory. that's what the banana pudding was for, but she's got a lump in her throat ever since cheol said it made you upset. she'll keep thinking of ways for him to stop by and check on you, and hopefully one day soon it'll all click.

-

since the accident, you haven't had to go into the office much. they've been really flexible with you, helping you get set up with a home office and transitioning a lot of meetings to virtual so you can be there. every once in a while you do have to go in, and usually your parents are able to take you. today though, your boss asked you to come in last minute and you don't want to bother anyone with this. it is a tuesday, which means you won't get your weekly cheol visit. oh well, right?

except you're running late, an old habit your memory problems have not interfered with. you're on your way out the door when cheol pulls up, and he looks happy to see you. it makes your heart flutter, but you can't get distracted now. you wave to him like always but continue on your way to your car parked under the big oak tree next to your house. you're busy balancing everything into one hand so you can unlock the door, so you don't see cheol rushing up behind you.

"hey y/n!" he calls, a nervous lilt in his voice. "whatcha doin?"

"hey cheol," you greet him politely. "sorry, i'm running late for work. i owe you two drinks next week."

"you're driving there?" he asks, hoping he sounds casual and that you can't tell his heart is racing. the last time you drove was the day of the accident, so understandably the idea of you behind the wheel distresses him.

"yeah, figured it was time to start getting back to normal," you say as you turn to fully face cheol. he looks concerned. "why, what's up?"

"um, nothing," he replies, looking between you and his truck.

"really cheol," you push. "i know you. you look worried. what's wrong?"

"let me drive you," he says, and before you can even protest he adds, "it's not an offer, y/n. i'm driving you."

"no, cheol, that's too much to ask-"

"stop it," he shakes his head. "your yard doesn't need work today anyway. consider this my job for the morning."

"fine, but next week i owe you two drinks and a meal."

"sounds perfect," cheol smiles at you, grabbing your work bag so you can carry your coffee. he leads the way to his truck, opening the door for you with a flourish. you can't help but giggle, an extra pep in cheol's step as he crosses to the driver's seat. once you're both settled, cheol hands you his phone to put in the directions and you notice his homescreen. it's a picture of his hand holding one slightly smaller with the most beautiful engagement band on the ring finger.

"pretty," you acknowledge, and cheol smiles awkwardly. "she must love it."

"yeah," he nods curtly. "it was her grandmother's, so it means a lot for her to have it. meant a lot for me to propose with it, i think it was a sign that the family really accepted me as one of their own."

"that's sweet," you nod back, handing him his phone with your work address pulled up. "um, quick question though, if you're taking me to work, how am i supposed to get home?"

"i'll come get you," he shrugs. you watch him curiously as he looks back to reverse, and you admire his jawline long enough that he catches you staring. "what?"

"nothing, i just...won't your fiancée mind?" you ask. "i can just call my mom-"

"i can pick you up," cheol repeats, holding your gaze for maybe a moment too long. you look away with a blush, and you two sit in silence for a while as cheol follows the directions on his phone. you get a couple miles down the street before he says, "you can play the radio if you want. or a cd, i've got some in the glovebox. whatever you want."

"ooo, i wanna know what you listen to," you decide, leaning forward to dig through cheol's measly cd collection. you only crack a few jokes, overall pleased with his choices, until you come across one of your favorite cds. "oh my god."

"what?" cheol asks with concern in his voice. he looks over to find you staring at him, mouth agape, and he laughs. "what?"

"this is my favorite cd," you tell him, and he hums. "no, cheol, this is my favorite cd. and my copy of it has been missing. are you stealing from me?"

"no," he laughs again, keeping one hand on the wheel as he grabs the case from you to put the cd in. "this is, um, this is my fiancée's favorite album, so i keep a copy of it in here for her."

"she has good taste," you tease, turning the volume up. cheol hands the case back to you, and you stop. you joked about him stealing from you, but now you think he's lying. the back of the case is cracked and taped back over, and you have a vivid memory of stepping on this very cd and freaking out thinking you'd snapped the disc in two. you shake it off though, wondering if somehow you'd lent cheol your copy of it. anyway, cheol singing along to one of your favorite songs distracts you. he's trying to hide a smile as he sings, glancing at you to make sure you're joining him. he even starts beating his fingers in time on the steering wheel, and you think going in to work every day wouldn't be so bad if this is how you got there.

-

while you're at work, there's an awful rainstorm. the parking lot at your office floods a little it's so bad, and cheol calls to check in with you halfway through the day.

"hello?" you whisper, trying to keep your voice low to not disturb your coworkers.

"what's wrong?" cheol whispers back, and you laugh.

"nothing? you called me, what's wrong with you?"

"no, why are you whispering?" he clarifies with a chuckle. "they holding you hostage at this job of yours?"

"no, i might actually get to leave early," you tell him. "the storms are so bad my boss wants us all to head home during the lull in the forecast soon."

"how soon?" he asks. "i can leave now and be there when you're ready-"

"no, cheol, i'm not letting you drive in this rain," you cut him off, and even though you can't see him you imagine him shaking his head, which is exactly what he's doing. "one of my coworkers offered to drive me, she lives pretty close-"

"y/n, no way," cheol cuts you off this time. memories of your accident flash through his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. he's not letting anyone except himself drive you in these conditions. "no. i'm coming to get you. just tell me when you're almost done and i'll head that way."

"fine," you sigh. "i'll text you, but it'll be about two hours."

"i'll be there," he says, and you can tell he's smiling. you let your cheeks warm and heart pick up speed knowing he cares for you so much. you hang up with a giddy feeling in your chest and your eyes glued to the clock until it's time to leave.

-

a man of his word, cheol is waiting for you when you get off work. despite the rain, he runs out of his truck with an umbrella to meet you at the door and walk you to the passenger side. in the chaos of the pouring rain you miss the happy stares from your coworkers.

"all good?" cheol calls over the pitter patter once you're seated in the truck, and when you nod he closes the door for you before rushing to the driver's side. "this rain is awful."

"yeah, and nobody knows how to drive in the rain," you commiserate. you don't see the way cheol's hands tighten around the steering wheel, and you can't notice the way his heart speeds with nerves as he carefully drives you home. a ways down the road you chuckle at him, his eyes never straying from the road but a curious raise of his eyebrows prompting you to say, "you're being so careful, cheol. you can drive a little faster, i'm sure you wanna get home to your girl."

"i'm in no rush," he mumbles, intense focus never wavering. it's a longer, quieter ride than this morning, but you enjoy it nonetheless. cheol looks so handsome when he drives, and the way he's so focused makes him clench his jaw in a way that makes your stomach flip. you take turns stealing glances at each other, never once catching the other's eye. cheol looking to make sure you're alright, you committing the slope of his nose, the plump of his lips, every single eyelash, all to memory.

finally, you make it back to your house. thankfully, the rain let up at the end, but cheol lets out a low whistle when he sees the state of your yard after all the rain and wind.

"good lord," you mumble yourself, getting out of the truck to land directly in a puddle of mud. you whine loudly, cheol rushing to your side and trying to hide a smile when he sees your predicament.

"oops," he teases, and you reach for him to help steady you.

"these are brand new shoes," you grumble, stepping out carefully so you don't lose them to the mud. with your hands in cheol's you look around at your yard and sigh. "the storm did a number on me, didn't it?"

"sure did," cheol nods solemnly. "guess i'll have to stop by tomorrow to check on everything. i'll pick up some of these branches too."

"you have time for that?" you ask him, and he nods.

"always have time for my favorite customer," he smiles, squeezing your hands as he says, "now let's get you inside and wash those shoes off."

cheol leaves you on the porch to rinse everything off with the hose, ducking inside to bring you a towel. you forget to tell him where you keep the bath towels, but he comes out with a clean one anyway. you take it graciously, drying yourself as you look sadly at your shoes.

"i'm afraid they might be ruined," you pout, and cheol picks one up to inspect it.

"nope," he shakes his head. "they just need to dry and then maybe get a shine and you'll be alright."

"you think?" you ask, assessing them yourself. you shrug and decide it's a problem to deal with later, because you catch the time on your phone and gasp. "oh my god, it's past dinnertime. cheol, i'm sorry i kept you so long!"

"don't worry about it," he shakes his head, deciding then to test the waters a little more. "i'm, uh, i'm flying solo tonight, so all you're doing is keeping me from an empty house."

"oh, really?" you ask, and he nods. you can tell something changed in the way he's looking at you, but you don't want to pry.

"yep, it's just me and my books tonight."

"what have you been reading lately?" you ask him as you gather your things to head inside. he holds the screen door open for you, following you inside like a lost puppy, eyes big and adoring. "the doctor told me i should try reading again soon, said it might help with my focus and retention or something."

cheol has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying, yeah i remember that, but he's able to hum in agreement and explain the plot of the book he's reading instead. it's one of your books, a story he remembers you talking about for months after you read it. he keeps talking as you flit around your house, his eyes never leaving you as he speaks. cheol finishes once you've put all your things away, and now you both stand awkwardly in the living room.

"well, if it ends up being good you'll have to bring it to me," you tell him, and he nods sadly, if that's possible. he sucks a breath in and pats his legs, his usual sign that he's about to go. something inside you tells you not to let him leave, so as he turns, a goodbye on his lips, you call out, "cheol, wait!" he whips around, heart in his throat as he waits for you to say what he's wanted to hear for so long. "don't go, stay."

"st-stay?" he stutters out, and you nod.

"yes, please stay for dinner," you continue, and cheol visibly relaxes. he doesn't know how he'll react when you finally remember him, but every glimmer of hope you've given him always makes him tense up just to be let down. he smiles regardless, replying, "i'd be happy to."

you figure having cheol for dinner will be thanks enough for his help today, but he's proving to be a bothersome guest. well, it's not a bother, really. he just keeps trying to help, offering to chop for you, to clean the chicken, to do anything you might let him. you try bumping him out of the way with your hip, but he just bumps you back. he won't leave your side, and you don't mind per se. there's just something nagging at the back of your mind, and it won't let you enjoy this moment fully.

you try shaking it off anyway, holding a spoon out for cheol as you ask him to taste. your heart skips a beat watching his lips wrap around the spoon, your hand below his chin to catch any drippings. his eyes flutter closed at the taste, and when you ask if it needs anything he assures you it's perfect.

"i love cooking for you," you tell him as you start turning everything off, getting ready to serve. "no matter what it is, you always make it seem like the most delicious thing you've ever had."

"because it always is?" he replies, and you roll your eyes.

"go sit at the table, i'll bring the food over."

"i'll get the drinks," he ignores you, opening the freezer to bring out an ice tray before finding two glasses. you smile at his choice, your favorite cups in his hands. one is printed with sunflowers, the other with a honey bee. they weren't made together, but they match somehow. you don't use them often, only bringing them out when your parents are over, because you don't like to separate them. cheol catches you smiling at him, and you're surprised to see him blush. he clears his throat as he asks, "um, sweet tea or...?"

"sweet tea," you confirm as you place some of the food on the table. cheol set it for you already, a plate for you at your mom's old spot and a place for cheol at your dad's. cheol brings the drinks over then, pulling your chair out for you as he says he'll bring over the rest of the food. you start dishing out food to him first, and he makes a precious sound when he sees the piles you've left for him.

"you think i eat like a caveman or something?" he jokes. "this is too much."

"too bad," you shrug. "you can take home what you don't eat," you tell him, but you both know he'll end up with a clean plate pretty soon. you eat in silence for a while, and it makes your heart hurt when you realize how nice this moment is. how nice it must be to share dinner with someone you love every night. you're pulled from your thoughts by cheol asking something, and you have to get him to repeat himself before it processes.

"what's that?" he asks again, nodding toward the chair at the end of the table. there's obviously a large bag sitting in it dauntingly, and you swallow hard before explaining to cheol what it is.

"it's, um, it's all the things i had with me in the crash. dad finally got it from the junkyard a couple weeks ago, but i haven't been able to go through it yet."

"that must be hard to think about," cheol says, and you nod.

"thankfully, i don't remember much from that day, but i do remember being scared," you say as you stare at the bag. "i guess i'm just afraid to look through everything because it might make me remember things i'd rather stay forgotten."

"um, i could help, if you ever decide, um, to go through it," cheol says carefully. "i could be here for moral support, you know."

"thanks, but i think i need to do that by myself," you smile at him, reaching out to squeeze his hand without thinking. you stare at your hand on top of his, eyes flitting nervously until you catch sight of his plate. you pull away and reach for it, asking, "guess you don't need to take anything to go, huh?"

"you were right, i did need all that food," cheol agrees. "chicken and dumplings is one of my main food groups, so i should've known i'd finish it all."

"i'll remember that," you nod as you take his plate with yours to the kitchen. "i'm sorry i don't have any dessert but i could make-"

"oh hush," cheol scolds. "you must be tired, don't even think about doing anything else." he stands and brings your cups over, taking one last sip out of the sunflower glass before he says, "i should really get going though. don't wanna get caught in the next storm."

"sure," you agree, hyperaware of how close cheol is to you. if you really wanted, you could reach out and brush his chin, bring his lips down to yours...

"so i'll be over around lunch tomorrow to check on your flowers and everything," he says and you nod while he adds, "and don't think you need to repay me with a cake, or a five star meal, or-"

"i get it, i get it," you laugh. "i'll have a glass of something cold ready for you though."

"looking forward to it," he smiles.

-

after cheol left, you thought it might be nice to read for a little bit with the sound of the rain in the background. before that though, you get out your little yellow notebook and jot down cheol's love for chicken and dumplings on one of the earliest pages in the book. you look over the information again, all of it seared into your memory. it was hard to read at first because you were unfamiliar with the handwriting, and you initially worried maybe yours had changed after the accident. then you remembered your mom encouraging you to use the notebook more, and you just assumed each page was started with her filling in the information. once you finish writing about cheol, doing this now more out of habit than anything else, you close the notebook and stroke your thumb over the worn honey bee sticker on the front. you eventually put it down and pick up your book, determined to read until your eyes get droopy.

you get comfortable on the couch, an old quilt made by some family member draped around you, the perfect reading condition. but you can't stop thinking about the bag with all of your things in it, waiting for you, staring at you from across the room. you try focusing one last time, but you end up huffing your way back into the kitchen to grab the bag and bring it back to your couch. with a few deep breaths, you carefully peer in, and you see a few bits and bobs that must have been loose in your car. old lip gloss, half used hand sanitizer. so far it's not too bad, just proving that you maybe need to be a tidier person going forward. there's a crumpled up t shirt that you lift to reveal a purse you recognize as yours, and you hold your breath as you lift it out. you clear everything else from around you, organized into piles of trash and things to keep. so far so good, you think.

the purse in your lap is another story, though. a quick look at it reminds you of the crash, trying to tug it free from deep within the wreckage to find your phone. the strap is broken because of that, some scratches to the leather too that show its history. all of the important things had been recovered when you were rushed to the hospital, your phone and wallet mostly the only items of concern. as you go through the purse, you unravel every receipt, every movie ticket, each one showing proof of two meals, two tickets to the same theatre, all things that confuse you at first. you could've gone with friends or family, so that's not too strange.

you keep digging, humming in confusion when you pull out a loyalty card to a men's hair salon. it's just down the road, past cheol's house, so maybe you went there a few times to save yourself a trip into town? who knows. you toss it into the trash pile, continuing on. next is a note, signed by cheol, saying something about the yard. he must have stuck it in your mailbox one day when you were gone, because it starts out "sorry i missed you..." the message itself isn't weird, it's the handwriting that catches you off guard. it's the same as the handwriting that started each page in your yellow notebook. but it couldn't be...could it?

you find loose coins, way too many empty gum packets, and discarded mints. your purse is almost empty now, most of its contents just trash that's accumulated on your coffee table. you hoist your purse over the pile, shaking it upside down to get out the last few stragglers. what falls out makes your blood run cold, the purse falling from your grasp to the floor below. you'd found a couple pieces of stray jewelry, so the ring that fell out shouldn't be a surprise. but it is. it's familiar in a way that makes you feel sick, a memory from earlier today crossing your mind.

why do you have cheol's fiancée's engagement ring?

you pick it up tentatively, afraid somehow the metal will burn your fingers, but it's just cold to the touch. you hold it carefully, letting it shine in the light as you stare at it, worried. you trace the diamonds, fingers catching on the gold detailing. you wonder briefly what it would look like if...no. you can't put it on. it's not your ring! and yet, when you slip it over your ring finger, hand extended in front of you to admire the way it gleams, your mind flashes back to dinner tonight, your hand on top of cheol's. that image in your mind looks awfully similar to cheol's lockscreen, the photo of his fiancée's hand in his, this ring on her finger.

with shaky hands, you reach for your phone and make a call. you need answers, and you need them now.

-

the next day, you're anxious as all get out waiting for cheol to come by at lunch. he promised he would, so you know not to expect him any earlier or any later. you can barely focus on your work, eyes constantly checking for a truck on the horizon and ears hyperfocused for any sound outside that could be cheol.

finally. finally, a little after one, you hear the familiar sound of cheol's truck rambling down your gravel drive. you can't help it, you don't want to wait. you rush to the front door and tear it open, bare feet hitting the stairs and then the ground fast and hard as you rush out to meet him.

cheol sees you running, a frantic look in your eyes, and he stops the car immediately, jumping out to see what's wrong. you reach him halfway up the drive, chest heaving, eyes sparkling, and something glinting on your hand in the sunlight. cheol stares at you, not able to stop and ask what's wrong because you crash into him, making him stumble back and bump into his truck. your arms wrap around him in a vice grip, like you'll never let him go. cheol is confused for a moment, but then he melts into your touch, tears shyly reaching the tips of his eyelashes as he realizes what's going on.

"cheollie," you whisper into his neck, and his heart bursts with joy. cheol squeezes you back just as hard, if not harder, lifting you up into his arms so your legs have to wrap around his waist. you nuzzle your face into his neck, the warmth of his skin feeling like home. you press your lips against his skin, whispering, "cheol. cheollie. my cheol."

"my honey bee," he whispers back, tears freely falling now as he pulls away to reach for your chin. he pulls your gaze up to his eyes, smiling so hard his face might split. "my girl. you're back."

"i never left," you reply, nudging his nose with yours.

"i missed you terribly."

"then come home," you tell him, and he crashes his lips into yours, the kiss a mess of tears and happy laughs and teeth.

cheol can't believe it. he's got his honey bee back, and you've finally got your sunflower.

[stuckinthesun]

Rick Grimes x Reader // 6x11 angst

Warnings: heavy angst, cheating, mention of a panic attack

Don’t actually yell at me if you get upset I warned you

You were on wall duty the night Rick and Daryl brought back some guy they called ‘Jesus’. You had signaled for the gate to be opened and watched as they drove the car in, parking it.

Rick climbed out of the drivers seat just as you finished descending down the ladder, and you quickly jogged up to him giving him a quick peck, “Hey, glad to see you’re back okay.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, clearly tired and frustrated. He gave you a half smile before helping Daryl lug the unconscious man away.

That was the last time you saw your long term boyfriend till very early the next morning. You were on your way home from finishing your shift to find many of your group rushing into your house, weapons drawn.

Alarmed, you instantly took off into a sprint, entering the house right after Maggie and try pushing your way up the stairs.

“Wait Y/N,” Abraham says as you try to move past him, he has his back to you, gun trained on something, and your heart sinks.

“Abe, move.” You easily duck under his arm, and when you stand up you’re instantly confused.

The man from last night is sitting on the stairs, holding a picture and looking extremely confused. Carl, Daryl, and Glenn all have their guns out and pointed at him, but look extremely pissed.

You notice movement behind Carl and that’s when you see it, that’s when you understand.

Rick, standing there, pants undone and struggling to get his shirt on, with Michonne standing behind him in almost the same state. In the doorway of your bedroom.

You just stand there, probably looking stupid, staring at the man you love very obviously come out of bed with another woman.

Rick stares right back at you, his eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, until eventually, “Y/N-“

“Daryl, move Jesus to the dining room.” You cut him off, not even thinking just acting. Just going on instinct, remembering that there is a crowd of your family here and that you can’t, you won’t, do this now.

Daryl does as you say without question, grabbing Jesus by the back of his coat and hauling him down the stairs. The rest slowly follow him, sparing glances at the three of you as they go.

Once everyone is out of the general vicinity Rick tries again, “Y/N-“

“No.” You say calmly, looking at the dust on your shoes. It’s more appealing than their guilt and shame, “I want my things out of there at the earliest convenience.”

You turn around and start walking down the stairs, but a hand grabbing your arm stops you, “W-wait, Y/N we can-“

“Don’t!” You yell, the barely held back tears finally forming, and you yank your arm back, “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again!”

You don’t really remember much after that, the panic attack that took over completely removing your memory.

But somehow, you ended up outside, curled up in Maggie’s arms, crying your heart out.

Men are assholes even in the apocalypse🙄

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

I don't even know your name | joel miller x f!reader, 8,3k

Summary: Your life changes dramatically and you turn to your best friend, Trish, for help. Trish is Joel’s cousin and little did you know when you accidentally met him at a bar, before Trish officially introduce you to one another. He’s emotionally unavailable -or so he thinks-, you have lost faith in people -or so you think. Basically, two idiots falling for each other, choosing to torture themselves.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, angst, Joel is 45ish, reader is 35 with two baby girls, allusions to smut, dirty thoughts, swearing, no physical description of the reader (but she will have long hair for smut purposes later on, hehe), no use of y/n, I’m not good at warning people, tell me what am I missing!

A/N: This has taken me forever, my life is a f’ing mess, but I didn’t want to abandon it. I’m splitting the story to parts, otherwise you’d been reading it until The Second Coming. 😅😏🫣 Thank you to anyone who’s taking the time to read this, I love you and I hope you enjoy it!😘

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Guys?” you drag out the word, “Do we really have to have the talk?” you try to avoid the conversation, knowing yourself and how you usually respond to these kind of questions, damn your spontaneity, shifting restlessly into the couch. Joel’s presence, sitting across the room on the comfy armchair, near the lit fireplace, isn’t helping in the slightest. He looks too invested in your point of view, but you already expected that. You try to avoid his gaze for as long as you can.

“Yes! Get the conversation going, babe, don’t be shy!” a female voice comes from a different part of the house. Joel doesn’t respond, looking quite nonchalant, in an effort to not seem.. eager. But you know better.

“It’s not a matter of shyness, on the contrary, you know I’m in the habit of not holding my tongue, and that can often get me in trouble..”, you sigh, shaking your head.

I have a few ideas involving that tongue of your- Stop it. Joel suppresses his thoughts audibly, by clearing his throat. “How come?” he finally joins in. You love the sound of that word on his mouth. Shaping into a different meaning inside your mind every time he uses it, pumping all of your blood to all the right places. Four months into knowing him and you quickly came to realize if you let your guard down, you would be done for. And now was not the time. You had a million loose ends to work out.

“Oh, you know, people tend to get the wrong idea, assuming things about me. I wish I could shut me up sometimes.” Oh, the ways I could shut that pretty little mouth, darlin’. Get it together. She’s not good for you. Or maybe you’re not good enough for her., he’s looking away, focusing on Trish, his cousin and your dear friend, who rushes out of her kitchen holding your -God knows what round of- drinks, almost stumbling on the carpet, while Joel’s trying to clear his head.

“What’s the rush Trish, anything to get off your chest?” you ask, squinting at her in a shut-the-fuck-up way. She bursts into laughter before she can even begin to talk, not taking the hint. Or pretending not to. Definitely pretending. Menace. “You remember that time, where were we?” She’s clicking her fingers together in an effort to jog her own memory. “With that dude? Who thought you wanted to talk your way into fucking him? Like he needed any convincing whatsoev-”

“We’ve met a lot of dudes together Trish; you being the main reason we’ve met them in the first place.” you interrupt, rolling your eyes at your friend. Joel is raising an eyebrow, looking back and forth between you and her. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific. Actually, don’t, you already embarrassed me enough!” you hold back a smile covering your face with one hand, as you pull your feet on the couch, bringing your knees to your chest in an effort to create a barrier between you and the space surrounding you, to feel some kind of protection around you.

Trish is looking so amused, she’s having a hard time concentrating. “I don’t remember nor the place or the dude, but you were defending, quite passionately I might add, womens’ equal right to one night stands and how we should have the same amount of pleasure as men without the guilt that comes with it; Joel you should see her, she almost raised the flag of revolution!” Where are you going with this Trish..?

“Did she, now..” Joel runs his eyes up and down, taking you all in, sipping his whiskey slowly, licking his bottom lip after he swallowed. Jesus, that neck.

You groan in frustration, “Here it comes. Another one who speculates. Ok, let me have it.”, you almost snap, observing the way he’s checking you out. But he knows better. There’s an intensity radiating out of him, you can almost feel the warmth of it on your skin and you let your mind wonder how he would feel like over you, under you or in any way he would choose to manhandle you. Manhandle? Where is this coming from?

“Hey, she’s the one who said ‘passionately’!” Joel raises his hands up in defense, his brows raised and knead together, clearly amused on the information he’s extracting so effortlessly. Trish takes her seat next to you to the couch, enjoying the moment more than she should, looking at the two of you.

“I’m not- I don’t- uuuuh, Trish why are you doing this to me?” you whine in exasperation, looking up to the ceiling, and rolling your eyes shut.

“Because maybe you should! Come on, live a little!”, she grumbles, grabbing your forearm, shaking you dramatically. Trish was actually living, more than a little, her life, full of experiences, lovers, you name it. Sometimes you wished you could live so carefree. She has been desperately trying to pour some of her carnal wisdom into you. For years. Now, given your emotional status, she believes it’s her best chance. So, she pushed.

“Should do what?” Joel interjects curiously.

Trish opens her mouth and spills it out before you can stop her, “Fuckarounds!” -her take on one night stands- “or at least something casual, since she insists that one flavor is better than a sea of delicacies.”, she winks dramatically in your direction.

“Yeah, no, that’s- that’s great, let’s bring Joel into this conversation” you sigh, rubbing your forehead and tilting your head down.

“Oh, I thought-” he looks genuinely confused at your reaction. At this point he’s confused about a lot of things.

“Yes! Exactly! Of course you thought! That’s what I meant before. Just because I can’t bring myself to do it, it doesn’t mean that it’s wrong, or that I’m judgmental of people that do it. Hell, sometimes I wish I was those people.. That’s what I was trying to explain to the dude-”

“You see?” she turns to Joel for backup, “quite the lawyer we have here! And the dude didn’t get the memo.”, she turns to you once more. You shake you head at her and you both laugh at the memory.

“She’s insufferable sometimes, but I’ll get her mind around, don’t you worry!”, she adds, taking her eyes from yours to Joel’s, smiling at the implication, almost like.. you’re spoken for?? What the fuck, Trish? Your face feels like it’s on fire and you’re pretty sure it’s showing, too. You can always blame it on the heat of the fireplace. Now it’s Joel’s turn to shift to his seat uncomfortably. He, thankfully, rises from his spot and let both of you know he’s heading to the kitchen for a refill.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, you hiss at her. “He’ll think I put you up to this.”

“Up to what?” Trish plays dumb, but failing monumentally.

“Dude, you can’t have your cousin think that I’m into him, it’s not right. I didn’t asked you to. Quit it.”, you whisper in despair.

“Love, seriously, you need to at least de-stress yourself.” Trish pressures on. “It’s been, what, six months since the divorce, four months in, leaving with me, I mean, that’s unacceptable.”

“Look, I’ll move, the first house I’ll find, I promise, I don’t want to overstay my welcome-”

“Hey, I’m talking about letting four perfectly good months fly away without getting any. Especially, when you have such a skilled babysitter. You're not taking advantage of me enough.” She moves her hands around her body, showing herself. “And I told you, you and the girls can stay here indefinitely. I fuckin’ mean it.”

“Well, less of the ‘f’ word in front of them, if you do!”, you tease. “Thank you, but I’ll find a place. I need to. I want to bring some kind of normalcy back into our lives. Their lives.”

“I know, baby. But seriously. You’re fucking 35. You act like your life is over. He’s not worth it.”

“We’ve been through that before Trish, it’s not about him, I just-” you exhale, shaking your head, “l don’t think there’s anyone out there for me, you know? I feel like I’m too old for any of this. Point me to the direction of one guy, just one, who would even consider to engage with a 35 year old divorced mother of two and I’ll take him, Scout’s honor.”

She opens her mouth to say something but reconsiders, trying to find the right words. She knows you have a point. “That’s why I insist for you to.. FUCK AROUND! No strings attached. How sweet of you to help me prove my point!!”, Trish exclaims triumphantly.

You pretend to be in deep thinking, finally concluding, “You know what, I’m done with men. Not worth the energy spent. Hey, maybe I’ll date you; we love each other, we practically live together, it’s a done deal!” You both laugh at the idea.

“Aaaaaw, I’m fluttered hot mama, but maybe you should give ‘em men a chance, before you flip the coin!”, she pushes on.

You really look at her now, trying to see her point of view. You were lonely, you were touch deprived, you longed for intimacy, but intimacy in your case meant sentiment. And sentiment comes form some kind of attachment. You wanted, you needed, hell, you craved to connect. “You know, you always insist on all that casual thing, but I’m in a place in life that.. what’s the point?”

“Um, the point of someone else giving you an orgasm?”, she deadpans.

“Oh God..”, you drug your hand down your face, feeling defeated. “Seriously? Because I’m pretty sure this coffee table here,” you point at it with your brows, “can find my bud easier than half the men out there.”, you blurt out in frustration. Joel coughs, choking on his whiskey. You both jolt from your seats on the couch at the sound, turning your heads, one in amusement and one in embarrassment, seeing Joel standing at the living room entrance, frozen in place. Neither of you heard him approaching. If you could hold your tongue for once, woman. Just once.

“So..” he drags the word out, “what about the other half?”, he shakes off the awkwardness of the moment and sly his way into the conversation. You both look at him with a dumbfounded expression on your faces.

“Joel, how long have you been standing there?” Trish wonders, raising one brow devilishly.

“Enough to know I was right to have been standing there as long as I have.” he smirks into his glass, swallowing another sip. You’re too mortified to register the question as non-rhetorical. You almost stop breathing, praying that would make you invisible, hoping he‘d somehow forget his question.

“So?”, Joel insists, looking at you through his lashes, crossing his legs and leaning against the doorframe that connects the living area with the kitchen.

“Excuse me?”, you manage to breathe out, feeling exposed.

Joel doesn’t miss the opportunity to remind you exactly what you pointed out, moments ago. “You said that half the men can’t find y-”, he pauses, inhaling sharply, imagining how good you would look, all naked and spread out under him, but hearing in his mind how intimate what he’s about to say sounds, he corrects himself. “Uh, a woman’s bud.” He moves his hands in the air in a generic motion. You feel so embarrassed, you think you might explode if your heart rate doesn’t drop down. “So, what about the other half of us?” his eyes are burning coals, piercing through you. You pick up the insinuation immediately. He knows his way around a woman’s body. Ok, thank you for the burning image of you eating me out, fingering me to death or rubbing me to completion, Joel. But where the fuck is he going with this? He knows by now that you’re candid like that and you’ll answer accordingly, so he presses all your buttons on purpose, he’s got to be. You devil, we had a fucking deal. You smile, accepting the challenge as you decide to answer him. Two can play that game.

“Oh, you mean the emotionally unavailable half?”

He certainly didn’t expect this response. His face drops suddenly, his jaw flexes; you are positive that a nerve has been touched. He looks embarrassed, like a child caught with his hand in the honey pot and you immediately feel sorry for him. You hate making people feel bad. Even if you’re right. Damn people pleaser.

Too forward? Too soon? Maybe both? You open your mouth to say something -anything- but your mind goes blank. He looks down at his half-empty glass and goes “Huh.”, before he empties the poison of his choice down his throat in one gulp. He calmly leaves the now empty glass on the coffee table, forming a one-sided kind of knowing smile on his face and he leaves the room quietly, leaving you feeling guilty.

You realize that you need to breathe at some point, so you take a sharp breath, after you hear the front door closing behind him.

“Well.. that went well.” Trish comments, looking at her nails.

You snap your head at her, feeling ready to explode. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“No, but it leaves you minus one penis.”, she deadpans.

“I’m not interes-“ her eyes move up to yours so quickly, staring at you in a don’t-bullshit-me way, that you don’t dare finish your sentence. “Even I would be interested if he wasn’t a relative.” she feels the need to exaggerate.

“He’s not what I’m looking for, Trish.”

“But he might be just what you need.” Damn, she’s on a roll tonight. “Is there something going on? I mean between the two of you.”

Panic rises fast inside of you like waves crushing on rocks. You think you can hear your heartbeat. “No, of course not.”

Trish gives you an investigative look, as if staring at you long enough would make you admit the truth she thinks she knows. “Are you sure?”

“Joel and I couldn’t be further apart, trust me.”

BEFORE

He observes you sitting on the bar stool for a long time, almost memorizing your every curve and line. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. He can’t even see your whole face, but something makes him stare. You stand out to him for some reason. Maybe it’s the intense antithesis against your surroundings. Still, while everyone moves. Sad, while everyone laughs. Quiet, while everyone yells into each others’ ears. Lonesome in a sea of people. Your gaze is soft and detached, like all the burden of the world is on your shoulders. Holding your beer for far too long, sipping slowly straight from the bottle, like you’re trying to prolong your stay at the bar, or maybe avoiding going back to where you came from. He’s standing up.

You’re sitting on the bar stool, looking absentmindedly at the bartender on the other side of the counter, moving around, serving drinks. And you’re just sitting there. Alone. Wondering how the hell did you come to this. You always thought it was kind of strange going out on your own. Never done it before. But here you are. Here you are.

It’s been a week since you left your whole life behind you, leaving everything you knew and hold dear, moving to your best friend’s house, temporarily. Until you figure out what you’re going to do. She insisted to babysit so you can go out and have fun. She was funny that way. Have fun. All you wanted was to just disconnect from the world. Not think of anything. Not worry about anyone. Not much of a choice when you are a parent though. Worrying is on top of your list when you have kids. Two little girls, two and a half years old and an almost six months old.

That’s what you did for the past couple of years. Giving birth and raising a baby girl. And then giving birth again to another one. Until your husband decided all of a sudden that he can’t do this anymore. You’ve become too cold, too distant, he felt under-appreciated, pushed away.

The fact that he was always gone, always working and not contributing the hours that he indeed was at home, the fact that you were practically all alone in this, was not taken into consideration.

Everything happened fairly quickly. In the course of four months you got separated, he didn’t even want to try to fix things. Not even for the sake of being able to say that you at least tried. And then other suspicions began to enter your mind-

“You really look like you need a drink.”, a deep voice distracts you from your thoughts. You would be almost thankful for the distraction, growing tired of thinking the same things over and over again, like a broken record, but your bad mood wins over this one. Without turning your head to look at the direction of the voice, you raise the hand holding your beer, motioning at it, in silence.

“Nuuuh, that’s practically water, darlin’.”, the man insists, leaning forward as he stands next to you, his body turned your way, his left foot crossing over his right, his elbow resting on the counter, holding his glass of whiskey. You still don’t turn to look at him and with all the patience that is left in you, you raise the bottle to your lips, taking a sip. “Nope, still beer.”, you answer and keep your gaze to the shelf with the drinks behind the bartender. God, you’re too old for this.

The stranger huffs a small laugh and pushes on. “At least lemme buy you a cold one. That one must taste like a piss by now.”

“Oh, you must have been watching me, then.”, you try to embarrass him in order to leave you alone.

“That, I have.” Oh, he’s got a pair.

“Well, don’t.” you snap and you finally turn to look at him.

Holy shit.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so beautiful. Someone, your kind of beautiful. Masculine and broad and dark but with a vibe of kindness and safety in his presence. He’s looking at you, patiently, with a hind of a smile on his lips, like he knew that you’d change your mind once you’d lay your eyes on him. You take a deep breath to compose yourself and start over. “Look, I’m sorry, you look like a decent guy, but I would just be a bad company.”

“You don’t have to apologize darlin’, you have every right to choose your company, or the lack of it for that matter. It’s ok.” he says and he’s starting to move away from you slowly like he’s going to leave you alone. And now he’s making you feel like an ass. Kill with kindness they say?

A thousand thoughts are crossing your mind, you haven’t done this for what it feels like ages, you’re out of your depth, you don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t even remember the woman behind the mother, he’s gorgeous, why the hell is he talking to you? Ok, you know what? You’re going to fucking enjoy yourself. Just make conversation, fool around, it’s not like you’re gonna see him ever again. What do you have to lose?

You exhale hard, rolling your eyes to yourself and you grab his wrist lightly to ask, “Beer offer still standing?” surprising your own self. Damn, he’s warm. Pleasantly warm. I-want-you-to-envelop-me-in-your-arms warm. He turns his head to you, his eyes drop to your hand holding his, then back to your lips and then to your eyes. He lingers for a second too long and then turns to the bartender to order. You reluctantly let go of his hand and smile coyly.

You stare at each other for a moment and you both smile, waiting for the other to initiate the conversation. “I swear I’m not trying to do small talk or throw a bunch of lines your way,” he begins playfully, “but, you don’t look like you’re from around here.”

You audibly laugh and you raise your brows in surprise. “That’s weird,” you reply scrunching your nose, “I thought that’s what people do when they’re talking to total strangers at bars.”

He snorts a laugh, fuck he’s handsome, nodding his head, “You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?” he asks amused, looking at you through his lashes.

“Well, it’s either that, or you really want to get to know me for my striking personality” you answer, gaining more confidence by his reaction. It’s not like you’re gonna see him again, right?

He nods his head in amusement, “You didn’t answer my question, though.” he reminds you. You roll your eyes playfully before you tease him, “You’re right, I’m not from around here and technically that was an observation, not a question.”, you raise your cold beer pointing it his way, nodding your head in a silent thank you and then you drink from it.

He stops with his glass midair, brows raising, smirking at you. “Ok, fine, you want a real question, I’ll give ya one. Why do you look so damn sad?”, his head tilting to the side, his ear almost touching the shoulder of the arm he rests on the counter. His eyes are piercing holes in yours, making you feel vulnerable. “Uh, I-, I-, shit; that bad, huh? And there I was, thinking I was holding my own.” you mutter.

“Darlin’, someone like you, sitting on your own, not looking around to notice the number of eyes ogling you, lost in your own thoughts, doesn’t take much to figure it out..”

“Someone like me.. you mean troubled?”, you try to clarify, troubled being the only translation your mind could manage.

“I mean beautiful.”, the man delivers. Oh. His voice and his gaze determined and serious as he speaks, making you weak on the knees.

You give him a shy smile and deflect the compliment. “Most men don’t observe half of what you just said.”, you deadpan and as he opens his mouth to answer you, you add “but you’re not most men, are you?”

He’s really looking at you now, it feels like he’s savoring your details and he just smiles. A beautiful, honest, kind of sheepish smile. It fades away quickly though, his face going serious again. He keeps his eyes on you, hitting you with his perceptiveness. “What did the fucker do?” you hear him ask you, suddenly.

“Wha- How did you- what makes you think-“, you are genuinely shocked, losing your train of thought.

“Humor me.”, is all he gives you, in a low voice.

His question felt so to the point, that there was no reason for you to deny it or avoid it, so you look back to your beer, fearing to see the denigration in his eyes.

You take a deep breath and simply state, “He left me, two months after I had our second daughter.” You exhale. It feels odd to hear your own voice, to feel your tongue move in your mouth, saying those words. You haven’t talked about it enough, actually -at all, if you’re being completely honest and it feels like you talk about someone else. It’s like you’re out of your body looking at you.

And now you wait. You wait for the pity, the uncomfortable silence, the unavoidable retreat. But none of those things come. You turn to look at him and he’s standing there, looking pissed. His body stiffens, his gaze darkens and you’re pretty sure that glass of whiskey in his hand, doesn’t have much life in it. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ..” it’s all he mutters as he closes his eyes in frustration, rubbing his free hand over his face.

“So much for small talk, huh?”, you continue laughing, trying to relieve his tension. It doesn’t take, though. Why did he took it so personally? He opens his eyes again, looking at you seriously with a deep frown on his face.

You begin to feel uncomfortable, so you do what you always do best. Try to make everyone else comfortable. You start talking to fill the silence. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’ve made mistakes, I wasn’t always the best wife, I was tired, I felt helpless at times, especially when raising two little girls with such a small age difference all on my own, not that that’s an excuse-“ you stop talking as he’s raising his hand in front of you to interrupt.

“Are you seriously blaming yourself right now?”, he sounds frustrated and confused, borderline offended.

“Well I’m not saying that what he did was ideal, I’m just trying to explain how hard it is to be practically all alone with two kids and how much it takes from you, how the balance is changing between the couple-”

“Ideal? That’s an interesting choice of word.”, he observes once again. Nice, you didn’t think he would catch that.

“You can’t keep anyone in your life by force. I won’t. I can’t control his feelings. It was the way he handled things that pained me the most.”, you explain.

He’s staring at you like you’re a fucking puzzle.

You sigh and continue, taking a deep breath, feeling defeated already. How you could possibly explain and how he could possibly understand? “I know most men don’t get it; you can’t understand how difficult it is to be responsible for two little people, making every decision, every second of every day, it’s exhausting, it drains you-“

“I know..” he whispers, looking at his glass, nodding his head in understanding.

“No, you don’t..” you mutter, mostly to yourself, shaking your head. He’s examining you for a second, considering if he wants to elaborate. He does.

“Sweetheart, I’m a single parent from the moment my daughter was born. Trust me when I say I know.”, he explains softly. “I get it.” His voice feels like honey to your ears.

You snap your head in his direction, shocked at his admission. He sees the cogs turning in your head, the sorrow starting to appear in your eyes and he adds with a bitter smile, “No, she didn’t die, she just left.”

Your eyes widen, unable to imagine what could have led a mother to that decision. But you immediately stop yourself. You don’t have the whole picture and it’s none of your business. You don’t get to judge. All you can say is “Fuck. That must have been hard for you.”

There’s a shift in the air, like some invisible little string connected you somehow, each of you with their own story, finding an understanding in each other.

As the conversation progresses he can’t help but wonder how did he get to that point. He was looking for a good time, maybe a blowjob or quickie in the bar’s bathroom and he ended up talking to you about his life. His daughter, his struggles. Voluntarily. And it felt good, easy, natural.

You laugh softly, out of context, shaking your head and he wants to know why. “I just-” you think again before you speak, “when you approached me I wasn’t even sure I could do that.”

“Do what?”, he asks in confusion.

“Talk to you.”, you admit.

“How do you mean?”, his brows furrow and his head tilt on one side, the edges of his mouth turning slightly upward. Stop doing that. It’s sexy.

“You know, me, sitting in a bar, talking to a stranger, it felt like I haven’t done this in forever.” It feels oddly liberating talking to him, almost like a confession.

“And how does it feel now?” he wants to know, his voice soft but commanding.

“It feels good.”, you give it to him. He makes you feel good and you want him to know.

“Good girl.”, he responds, his voice low, keeping his gaze on you, wondering how you’ll react. Oh, boy. Well, your panties are ruined. You bite your bottom lip and play along. See where it gets you. He sees that. The longing starts to become apparent on your face, in the way your lips part, your breath becomes shorter and your body subconsciously reacts to him, because you turn around in your seat, facing him fully. You clench your thighs in an effort to relieve some pressure between your legs. He sees it all.

“Although it’s a shame I didn’t get to witness you do your thing.”, you let him wonder.

His brows are raised in question, “My thing?”, he looks intrigued more than he’d like to admit. Gotcha.

“Yeah, I burdened you with my shit and I missed the chance of you flirting with me.” Someone feels ballsy. You don’t recognize yourself right now, but who cares, right?

“What makes you think I wanted to flirt with you?” he questions, almost genuinely. Almost. You freeze for a second, feeling like an idiot, but then you see him wink at you behind his raised glass.

“Right,” you drag the word, “so, you really wanted to get to know me for my striking personality”, you smile back to him.

He laughs. Genuinely. Beautifully. “Do you want me to flirt with you?” he pushes you, testing the waters. But not really. He knows he has your full attention.

“Sure, you seem like you can handle yourself.”, you answer before you overthink it and freak out.

He chuckles softly and he leans to you, right next to your flushed face, looking behind your shoulder and then down at you, his lips brushing your ear, his sparse beard tickling your cheek, one hand still on the bar and the other moving at the back of your seat, caging you. His scent invades your space, making you feel lightheaded. “Baby, you have no idea.” Your whole body is vibrating with want.

He doesn’t want to take you in the bathroom anymore.

He can see you; clearly than you can see yourself. He knows you now. He understands. He can see your path, the struggles, the challenges, the worries that lie ahead on your way. He walked that path. He bled that path. He navigates it with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back.

He doesn’t want to take you in the bathroom anymore.

He wants to take care of you. To breathe pleasure into you, to give you all that he abandoned for his daughter’s sake, to make you feel wanted and loved. He wants you to know that you matter to someone. That he’s gonna take his time with you, savor you, taste every inch of your body, spread you out on his bed and make you scream his name, while you tremble under his touch, his mouth, his cock.

You don’t feel like a bathroom quickie anymore. He wants more. Even if it is just for one night. Just one night. Suddenly the thought becomes unpleasant.

You turn your head to his side and search for his eyes. He responds to your plea by looking back at you. Your lips are inches apart, nearly touching. You stare at his brown, chocolaty orbs, then his plush lips, slightly open and can’t help but imagine your tongue entering his mouth, penetrating them.

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally. You want to feel him any way you can, right fucking now. You want his touch, his tongue, his cock but you’ll accept whatever he’s giving you.

Get up. Get up. Get up.

You want this. You got this. You slowly exhale through your nose and you nearly press your body against his chest to stand up. Your nose almost grazes his. You look at each other, both of you full of desire.

Full of promise.

He’s curious what you’re gonna do but he’s praying you won’t do what he expects you to. Not the bathroom, not the fuckin’ bathroom, he keeps chanting internally. Lemme take care of you. You put your palm on his chest lingering for a second, “Show me, then”, you whisper in his ear and you finally make it to the bathroom. That, took every ounce of courage you had in you. Goddamn.

As you enter inside, thankfully it’s empty, you look at yourself in the mirror. You try to comprehend who are you right now, what you’re about to do. You don’t even remember how it feels to have someone else giving you pleasure. To touch you. To make you-

You hear the door opening and closing, followed by the sound of the lock. He slowly walks to you, letting you study him, through his reflection on the mirror. Giving you time to change your mind. Please change your mind. He looks so good. So good that you have to turn around and face him.

His salt and pepper hair tousled but neat at the same time, his curls above his neck making you want to tug them. Hard.

His eyes are dark, full of hunger and desire. Your eyes fall at his parted lips and then to his chiseled jawline with his sparse hair for a beard. You wanna bite every inch of it. Hard.

His frame is imposing; tall, broad, his thick forearms bulging through his black shirt, his toned thighs strained by his dark jeans. And then you see his bulge. He looks big, considerably big.

“Like what you see?”, he smiles confidently, his low timbre making you realize that you’ve been staring.

You blush in embarrassment, looking down and biting your bottom lip. He enters your comfort zone now, his hand pinching your chin between his fingers, lifting your head upward to look at him. “No need to be shy, sweetheart; I like what I see, too.”, his thumb rests lightly on your bottom lip and presses down, to free it from under your teeth.

His other hand holds your waist drawing you close to his body, his erection touching your lower stomach. You let out a small sigh.

His scent is intoxicating. It’s a mix of his fainted cologne, the smoke of cigarettes lingering in the air, the alcohol on his breath and something unique. Something his entirely. His sweat absorbed by the fabric of his clothes. The more you inhale it the wetter you get. Saliva pools in your mouth, making you swallow hard.

You squirm in your place, squeezing your legs together. He notices. Of course he notices, like he did back at the bar. Reading between your words.

He caresses your ear with his lips, whispering, “It’s ok sweetheart, I'm gonna take good care of you.” He places one hand behind your head, gently bringing you closer to him. His other one rests on your back, slowly making his way down to your ass. You look at him, surrendered to his touch. Oddly, you feel safe.

“Fuck..” you breath out.

He smiles, a little full of himself, normally it would piss you off, but right now you don’t care. He ghosts his lips along yours and he softly kisses the edge of your mouth. He places kisses along your jawline and leaves an open-mouthed kiss between your ear and your jaw. Your body shakes with goosebumps, making your knees almost buckle, his hold on your ass tightens, keeping you in place.

You can’t think of anything right now and that’s exactly what you want. Not your soon-to-be ex-husband, not your messed up life, not even the poor attempt of an outfit you wore tonight out of boredom. Plain black jeans and a lingerie black shirt. Of course with a black lacy bra under it, you’re not that adventurous.

His mouth travels to the column of your neck licking it softly from top to bottom, biting gently where it meets with your shoulder. Your cunt clenches hard, pooling more of your arousal on your already-drenched underwear. His tongue is so warm and velvety, making your eyes roll in your head. Your hands- where are your hands? One on his toned shoulder and the other on his hair, tugging his curls.

You realize that he’s softer in his touch than you would imagine for a bathroom fuck. He moves so fluidly, expertly, you feel mesmerized and a tiny part of you inexperienced and self conscious.

“I- I haven’t done this before..” you feel the need to confess, worried that you’ll do something wrong.

“I thought you had two kids.” he raises his head, tilting it, while looking at you through his lashes and bites his cheek to hide his smirk.

You stare at him for a moment and then you both burst into laughter.

You shake your head in mocking disapproval and explain, “..not the deed, the- the one-time thing..” and you bite your lip in discomfort afraid of his reaction.

His eyes are searching yours and he finally asks, “Who says this is a one-time thing?”. Bold. Surely he’s messing with you. Your breath catches on your throat, that was the last reaction you would expect. You try to read his face but he gives you nothing. You can’t figure out if he meant that or was just teasing. He nudges your nose with his, relax, baby, he whispers and he resumes his kissing path down your neck and to your chest.

He’s taking his sweet time with you. He wants to get you out of this damn bathroom. He wants to fuckin’ wreck you and he can't do that here. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either by proposing a different setting, in case this is indeed how you want it, so he does what he knows. He’s driving you crazy. He’s gonna make you beg him to get out of here. To take you somewhere else, more comfortable. Anywhere but here. Unless someone interrupts you, making you take this elsewhere. Either way works.

You’re both panting from desire, his head moving back against yours, your foreheads touching together. He grabs the sides of your head with both his hands, while yours move around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. He’s going to finally kiss you, your lips almost touching each other’s, breathing one another’s exhale.

A loud knock on the door startles you and you jump in place. “Come on, man! Are you done yet?” The stranger smiles against your lips, pleased with his plan. He’s so ready to take you out of here, worship you like you deserve.

But the spell is broken. You come back to your senses. You’re in a dirty bathroom. With a total stranger. A handsome, funny, sexy stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. What are you doing? This is not you. This is not how you do things. You have two kids back home waiting for you. You try to shake the thought out of your mind. You are a woman, too. You have needs. Needs that this man can meet with ease. No, there are people outside, waiting to use the bathroom. How are you gonna get out of here? Everyone will know what you’ve done. What are you doing?

The man detects your stiffness, the change in your breathing. You’re starting to hyperventilate. “Hey, hey, are you ok?”.

Your brain is overwhelmed, you don’t know how to respond. The knocking on the door gets louder now, more insistent.

“Give me a goddamn minute!”, the man shouts behind his back. His attention returns to you, full of concern, talking to you like all the time in the world is yours, like nothing else matters. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You wanna get out of here?”, his hands are still on the sides of your head, his eyes full of worry now.

“I- I need-” your breathing is getting harder and harder. “I’m sorry, I need to get out of here, I-” you push his hands away from your face.

He lets you, raising his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok darlin’, my truck is parked just outside, let me-”

“NO- No,” you don’t let him finish his thought, “I’ll leave on my own, I’m sorry, I can’t-” you just want to disappear, you know how you must sound and look but it’s out of your control.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that darlin’, I just wanna make sure you’re safe-”. But you’re not listening to what he’s saying to you, not really.

He wants to touch you again, hold you, make you feel safe. Protected. He wants you- no, needs you to know that it’s ok.

But he’s a stranger to you, so he resists the urge.

You walk away from him, unlock the door, open it forcefully and burst out of the bathroom, looking down. You don’t want to meet the eyes of the intruder outside the door. Any eye contact would make you feel vulnerable right now, exposed. With your head down you reach for your bag and jacket left on the stool you were sitting on, -what were you thinking, you could have been mugged- and you run to the exit door.

The man is right behind you, searching for you in the packed bar. You grab the handle, you open the door and you stand still for a moment turning your head to look at him one last time.

His eyes catch the door movement and his gaze locks with yours. His expression is sad and worried, not an ounce of anger or disapproval.

I don’t even know your name, you think with sadness.

He’s making a move to come after you but then you let yourself out of the bar. The stranger doesn’t have time but to whisper “I don’t even know your name..”

ONE WEEK LATER

You’re looking yourself in the mirror while you’re getting ready for dinner. Trish wants to introduce you to her cousins; although you and her are best friends, you never got to meet them. Maybe because you both lived out of Texas, before. She came back not so long ago, you followed to get your life back. Now that you’re living with her, she wants the four of you to hang out. She says they’re great guys. Joel and Tommy. Whatever.

You’re looking harder in the mirror now, searching for any sign to indicate what happened a few days ago at that god’s forsaken bar was real. A bruise, a bite, a redness, anything. But there’s nothing. Like he didn’t want to leave a trace. Like he was a figment of your imagination.

Half of you wants to forget about him, half of you is hanging on tight on every little detail you can recall of that night.

Of him.

His deep voice, the warmth of his eyes, his smart smile, the way he put your body on fire with minimum touch. You wish he would have fucked you hard and fast against the sink, before you had time to overthink, before you became a coward, to leave you with something more to remember him by.

You still feel the burn between your legs every time you think about him. And as many times as you tried to extinguish this fire inside you, with your fingers, or your pillow, or your vibrator, it just. Isn’t. Enough.

Just- get him out of your head, you force your mind. You don’t even know his name. You spilled your guts to him, almost fucked him and you don’t even got his name. Who does that?

Well, he didn’t get your name either, but obviously that was not the same. He looked like he knew what he was doing and if he does it that often, at the end of the day what does another name matter?

Joel is grabbing his wallet and cellphone off the console next to the door yelling to Tommy and Sarah, “Guys, you’re coming yet? We’re gonna be late, Trish is gonna be all over us, come on.”

Tommy and Sarah pause the movie they’re watching with an audible groan and emerge from the living room, putting their shoes on. “What is tonight about, again?” Tommy asks in boredom.

“Uh, not really sure, we’re gonna have dinner together and some lady friend of Trish is gonna be there, I think she’s letting her stay with her for a while.” Joel mutters.

“Oh, a lady friend,” Tommy insists, winking his eye to Sarah and she rolls her eyes to him. “Is she hot or what?”.

Joel glares at Tommy “Don’t know, don’t care Tommy, I think she’s got kids or something. Take the toolbox to the truck to fix the bathroom cabinet since we’re going.”

Tommy looks disappointed “Damn, not my cup of tea, then.”

“You and me both.” Joel sighs through his teeth. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

You hear the doorbell ring and you check on the girls before you make your way downstairs. They’re asleep on their beds. You can finally relax. You hear Trish calling you, “Hey, babe, they’re here!” As you go down the stairs you see a handsome man with dark curls entering the hallway along with a young woman in her twenties.

“Heeeey, you’re here!!” Trish sounds so exited. “Hey cousin, it’s been a while!” Tommy responds, hugging her with one arm around her waist. Sarah takes her turn hugging her aunt in silence and with a warm smile.

Then the three of them turn to the sound of your feet on the stairs. “And that’s my friend I was telling you about!” Trish introduces you by name and you approach Tommy and Sarah to handshake them.

When you look at Tommy’s face from a closer distance he seems familiar to you in a strange way, but you don’t give it any more thought. He looks like someone who likes what he sees, judging by the flirty smile he gives you. “Hi, darlin’, nice to meet you!”, is his first response to you. You smile politely “ You, too!”

You turn your attention to the young lady then, Tommy’s eyes still linger a little too long for your liking. Not because he’s not easy on the eyes, far from it. You’re simply not ready for that. And you proved that to yourself last week. You let the most handsome stranger you’ve ever met, slip through your fingers. You didn’t even got his name.

Idiot.

Jesus Christ, not now, let him go, focus. “Hello Sarah, I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to put a face to the stories!”.

Sarah laughs, glaring at Trish “I bet the stories are really funny! I only hope my aunt exposed herself, too, in the process!”

You give Sarah a one-sided smirk, looking at her conspiratorially, “Well, you know Trish, she’s never holding back!”, you all laugh vividly.

You already feel more relaxed, Tommy and Sarah seem so nice, easy going, it will be great to make new friends. Trish was right for wanting you to meet them so soon after you arrived here.

It brings an air of normalcy, it feels like, although slowly and fucking painfully, your life takes an actual.. shape. You’re here. You exist. You are being seen as a living human being. You are talked to, admired, cared for, building a circle of people in your life, each one with their own place and role in your heart. And that means you’re trying. You’re not giving up, you’re moving forward, for you, for your children most importantly. These thoughts create a warmth inside you, a sense of hope that everything’s going to be ok.

And then it happens.

His voice is the first thing you register as he makes his presence known. “Goddamnit Tommy, I asked you for one thing before we leave the house. One.”, he addresses his brother from a distance. “Of course I have to remember everything myself.”, he mutters to himself, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The hair on the back of your neck is rising. You could recognize his voice among thousands. But that couldn’t be right. It can’t be. There is no way the voice will match the face. So, you turn your head to the entrance.

First, you see his boots going up the stairs of the porch, next your eyes land on his lower and then upper body, fit thighs, covered in dark jeans, thin waist hugged by a black belt, broad torso clothed in a black t-shirt and a green flannel. You don’t consciously recognize what -or who- you see yet, but your heartbeat spikes and your breathing becomes quicker.

You look further up, his head is tilted down, he’s trying to put his car keys in his front jean pocket, the salt and pepper curls looking oddly familiar.

And then he raises his head.

It’s instant.

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catches on your throat, your mouth goes dry, you stomach clenches, your body feels on fire. Even your fingertips feel numb. Your mind floods you with memories of him.

His scent, his touch, the need he awakened inside you. His gaze locks with yours, like that night, stopping him in his tracks, right before the entrance of the house, both of you unable to look anywhere else. He keeps staring at your face, fearing that if he so much as roams his eyes to the rest of you, you’ll disappear.

You can’t quite read his expression, he looks- well he looks hot- but apart from that, he seems surprised, disturbed, almost.. pained?

Somewhere from behind you, you hear “Uuuuh, and this sunshine, is my brother, Joel.”

Joel.

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

hi this is my first time sending a request and this one was rejected by other writer so I wondered if you could write it instead. I love quinn and I was thinking about a quinn fabray x fem!reader where reader was quinn first love back in middle school in that old school of hers and they had confessed to each other. reader loved quinn since her lucy caboosey phase and you could add that russell or Judy found out and separated them and encouraged quinn to get the nose job and lose weight. anyways, reader goes to McKinley during season 2 where quinn is trying to get her life together and she snaps when reader tries to approach her using her old name they don't speak anymore but reader always look out for quinn from the sideways (she's not from the glee club but she befriends Rachel) and quinn gets even more pissed when she catches rachel mentioning you before glee starts. the whole mess with lucy caboosey gets out and they finally speaks w reader comforting Quinn. make it angsty with a happy ending do not spare our feelings😂

-🫧

Still By Your Side

You know you're staring, but you can't help it. Something about this girl in your class is so familiar. You just can't put your finger on it.

See, you used to live in Lima, but you moved away in middle school. Forced away, rather. Now you're back and junior year began at McKinley High. While you recognized a lot of people, this one person just couldn't jog your memory.

Not until her eyes bore into yours.

As soon as class ends, you pack up your things and dart after the blonde.

"Hey! Wait!"

The blonde turns around, eyebrows cocked with an annoyed look on her face. She doesn't say anything, waiting for you to tell her why you're bothering her.

You take a moment to take her in. This girl was beautiful, that's for sure. There was a grace about her to match. Even her annoyed face looked pretty. You shake the thought from your head before finally speaking.

"Lucy, right? Lucy Fabray? It's me, Y/N."

Almost immediately, a hand covers your mouth and you're shoved against the lockers. Eyes blazing with fury found your shocked ones.

"I don't care who you are. I don't care how we met. But you will NEVER utter that name ever again." She leans closer and dangerously lowers her voice. "I am not Lucy and I will never be again. I am Quinn Fabray. Lucy is dead."

She pushes off of you, shoving you further into the lockers before striding away. You just watch her leave, your heart breaking with each step she takes. You didn't even notice the person next to you until she spoke.

"Sorry about her. She's always been like that."

With a jolt of surprise, you turn to look at the short brunette next to you. There's a moment before you look towards Quinn again.

"No... Not always." A sigh escapes your lips before you turn your attention to your companion. "You're friends with Lu-er... Quinn?" The brunette lets out a soft, rueful laugh.

"Kind of? More like rivals, I guess. We're both in Glee Club together. I'm Rachel Berry." She holds out her hand, which you take to shake.

"Y/N," you reply. "Y/N Y/L."

"If you wanna get close to Quinn, you can join Glee. We always need more members anyway." She offers. You consider it for a moment before shaking your head.

"Nah. I won't bother her like that. And I'd rather get myself settled before joining any clubs." You smile. "Thanks though. Maybe in the future." Rachel returns your smile with her own wide one.

"I'll hold you to that."

-----+++++-----

As the days pass, you learn more about Quinn thanks to Rachel. Her pregnancy and the resulting fallout with her parents, her life with the Glee Club, and now her determination to return to life before her baby. It was a lot and you weren't surprised by how much it affected her. You've already decided to stay out of Quinn's way, but they didn't mean you weren't still drawn to her.

While you tried your best to avoid directly interacting with the blonde, there were times when it was inevitable. Much like when she and Santana got into a fight in the hallway and you made it a point to pull Quinn away while blocking the Latina's attacks with your body.

Quinn didn't even acknowledge you.

It wasn't ideal. Your heart squeezed in pain with every rebuff. But the love you held for her, from the moment you met Lucy, it was worth every glance.

Only once did Quinn speak to you after meeting again. It had been months of just being in her orbit. But suddenly, you're slammed against the wall.

"Stay away from Berry." She growls. "I already have to deal with you everywhere else. I don't need that dwarf opening her big mouth to speak your name."

Recovered from the push and sudden rant, you retort.

"We haven't spoken since the first day! I even honored your request, Quinn. I don't understand why you dislike me so much."

"You don't get it." She leans into your space. If you weren't so frustrated, you would've blushed. "You're the only one who knows about Lucy. About everything I had to go through because of her. You can ruin my reputation with that knowledge. How can I not hate you?"

You could only blink in shock. So much was forgotten. Or rather, repressed. After a moment, you sigh.

"Quinn... What would I gain from that?" With a slump, your head thumps against the wall. "You may have forgotten but I... I loved Lucy." You hear a soft gasp. "I still love her. Even after your parents forced me away. Even after all this time."

You finally look straight into Quinn's eyes.

"If I ever talk about Lucy, it will only be with love and adoration. But since you don't want any indication of her existence, then she'll live in my heart. I'm not here to hurt you, Quinn. You have my word."

With that last word, you push past Quinn, leaving her in the hallway. You laid everything out there and you hope the blonde would trust you.

You didn't notice the look of awe in her face.

-----+++++-----

The first thing you noticed when you walked into school the next week were the whispers. Gossip sprung up all around you. You were confused until you were faced with a poster of a familiar photo.

Lucy Caboosey.

Almost immediately, you move to look for Quinn. At the choir room, you were met with most of the New Directions. Upon seeing you, Rachel rushed up.

"Y/N!"

"What's going on?" Another girl piped up.

"Fabray was being more annoying than Rachel." You recognized her to be Lauren Zizes. "I found out her little secret and decided to even the odds for Prom Queen."

You just stared at her. "YOU WHAT!?"

Everyone jumped at your voice.

"Do you know what she had to go through because of that bullying? I basically had to be her bodyguard in middle school just so she wouldn't be pushed to do anything drastic. And. You. Bring. That. BACK!?"

It didn't matter that Zizes was twice your size and stronger. She shrunk at your rage.

"You better damn well hope I find her before I see you again."

You whirl around to continue your search for Quinn, leaving the group in fear and awe.

Eventually, you follow the trail of torn posters to a classroom where you find the blonde crying at a desk. Quietly, you take a place across from her and wait for her to acknowledge you. It didn't take long for her to look up at you with teary eyes.

"Y/N..."

You smile. "Hey, Luce. Sorry I wasn't around to protect you this time." Quinn let's out a scoff.

"Please. I pushed you away. It's my own fault." A sigh escapes her lips. "How am I going to face the school now?"

"The same way you always did."

Quinn just looks at you, confused.

"Sure, you had an outburst. But you can't let that, or your past, dictate what you do now." You reach out your hand, palm up in an inviting manner. "You show that it doesn't control you. Even if you're just faking it."

She stares at your hand.

"Why are you doing this? After everything that's happened between us." You just give her a sad smile.

"I told you before. I love Lucy. Always will. I told her that as long as I was around, I'd protect her. I intend to keep it."

A tear falls from Quinn's eyes as she looks at you with wonder. Her hand covers yours and she revels in its warmth.

"Do you think you can... Love Quinn like you did Lucy? I've changed so much since you left. I'm not Lucy Caboosey anymore."

"Quinn," you start. "I don't think I could love you like I did Lucy." The blonde wilts, her heart breaking. Her hand clutches tighter onto yours. She had been so scared of her reputation crumbling that it masked her own feelings for you. Feelings she held for so long.

Quinn's actions catch your attention and when you look into her eyes, you're struck by the emotion in them. In an instant, you're back in middle school and falling in love all over again. You let yourself stay in that moment for a bit before speaking again.

"Lucy has a special place in my heart. She's my first love." You watch as your thumb caresses Quinn's hand. "It'll always be there, but it'll never grow." Your eyes meet again. "It can grow with you though. I may not know Quinn as well as I did Lucy, but I'd like to."

The smile on your face is immediately covered by soft lips. In a surge of emotion, the blonde leaned forward to kiss you. Before you could even react, she retreats.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself..." The light blush on her face sparks another memory and your smile widens.

"And here I thought I'd be the one to break." You chuckle. Gently, you lift her hand and kiss each knuckle. "Maybe let me kiss back this time?"

Quinn's blush deepens.

[separatist-apologist]

Traitors Never Win

Summary: When Feyre Archeron's father promises she'll marry notorious crime boss Rhysand Moreno, Feyre will do anything to get out of the arrangement…including framing him for murder.

Rhysand isn't about to let her go so easily.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

In retrospect, the signs were all there. What were the odds the agent had the same name as her would-be fiance? Feyre hadn’t thought anything of it, even after she’d let him eat her out. It had been waking up at dawn, his arm draped over her, and a memory of Rhys jogging down the sidewalk after her weeks earlier.

He’d called her Feyre.

Not Sarah, like everyone–even Tamlin—did when they were in public. But Feyre. And for whatever reason, it had felt like a warning bell in her head that this man didn’t act very copish. He was chatty and didn’t seem overly concerned with rules. Casual in a way Tamlin never was. It was clear he had blood on his hands, but not in a sanctioned kind of way.

She just wanted to know. So Feyre had gone through his things until she found his laptop opened and unprotected…and the feed of his house running in the corner of his computer. She’d found the chats between himself and two people labeled only C and A documenting their progress keeping her sisters out of the loop while Rhys tracked her down.

She should have shot him. Feyre couldn’t stop thinking about it as they drove. He had her in handcuffs—because when he put her down in the driveway she’d slapped him so hard she’d busted his lip—and Feyre didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to take them off.

“You’re going to get caught,” Feyre taunted as Rhys drove, unconcerned and undeterred. 

His amusement annoyed her. “We’ll see,” was all he said in response. 

For a few hours, Feyre tried everything. She screamed at the top of her lungs and kicked at the dash until Rhys threatened to tie her up and throw her in the back. He sounded serious when he said it and Feyre believed he would do far worse if he felt like he had to. For a moment, she contemplated crashing the car and killing them both before she thought better of it.

With her luck, they’d both survive anyway. 

Feyre didn’t want to die. What she wanted was for all this to end in a way that made them all happy and so, as they began climbing into the mountains, Feyre decided a different tact.

“I’m sorry I framed you for my fathers murder,” she said, not sorry at all. It sounded petulant even to her ears.

Rhys arched a brow. “Liar.”

“You purchased me—”

“I purchased your fathers business,” Rhys interrupted, gripping the steering wheel so tightly the whites of his knuckles were showing. “How am I supposed to know if he told you or not? Most women in your position understand the life and the expectations that come with it.”

“No one ever asked if I wanted to marry you. Which I don’t, just so we’re clear,” Feyre told him, twisting her cuffed wrists resting in her lap. 

Rhys didn’t look moved. Still, Feyre had to keep trying.

“Look. What if I just—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Rhys agreed, turning on his wipers as fog and a thin drizzle began to wash over them. “I won’t agree not to marry you in exchange for your terms. The only way out of this—for both of us— is marriage.”

Anger flared through her all over again. “I’m not marrying you!”

“You will,” he replied with more of that arrogance. “Or you would have shot me.”

“Are those my only options?” she demanded.

“I know you have no problems with murder, my darling. It should have been easy for you and yet here I am, and here you are.”

“You’re insane.”

Rhys only shrugged, allowing the pair to lapse into silence. Feyre didn’t know what else to say to him that might change his mind and so, maybe it was better to just try and understand him. If she could future out what made him tick, she could figure out how to beat him. Everyone had a weakness and that included Rhys. 

“Have you been looking for me the entire time?”

“Yes,” he agreed, his shoulders still tight. 

“To kill me?”

A sly smile spread against his face. “Not even close.”

He was absurd. Feyre didn’t believe for one minute that he’d spent the last five years chasing her simply because he wanted to be with her. No, this was punishment somehow. 

Though…last night hadn’t felt like a punishment. That didn’t mean anything. Last night he’d been another federal agent who wanted to touch her and not…himself. 

“What are you going to do to me?” she finally asked. 

“The same thing we’ve been doing,” Rhys replied with easy finality. “I’m not going to kill you, Feyre.”

“But you won’t let me go?”

“Where would you run to? Your sisters? The life before? All of that is over,” he said, gripping the wheel tightly against the winding road. “There is nothing to go back to.”

“Except you?”

“I’m your future, baby,” he reminded her. A horrific future in which she sat quietly in their house while he continued to terrorize their city. A future in which she had no say, had to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Feyre could wait him out. How long before the feds realized she was missing? 

“I guess you haven’t been indicted, then?”

Rhys laughed, reminding Feyre that he was truly beautiful. Nothing at all like she’d imagined, with his dark hair and sculpted features. He looked very late twenties, early thirties—still young, still attractive and if the night before was any indication, virile. She’d been picturing someone her fathers age—old, and with a string of dead wives behind him.

Not that it made Rhys any less insane, of course. 

“No, Feyre. They can’t indict me because this is one crime I didn’t commit.”

“But Tamlin said—”

“That everything hinged on your testimony?” he guessed, glancing over at her. “Yes, I’ve heard that before. What happens, my little love, when you can’t keep this act up anymore?”

“It’s not an act,” Feyre replied.

“Perjury is a crime, too,” Rhys reminded her. 

“Who cares about lying?”

“The feds will care,” Rhys replied, reasonable as ever. “Especially when they can’t convict me because you’re a liar. They’re going to be pissed you squandered their best chance at taking me down and you’ll become their sacrificial lamb.”

“Let me guess. Unless I marry you?”

“Smart girl,” he praised. 

“I could recant—”

“Back to jail for murder,” Rhys reminded her. It was easy to forget Feyre had actually killed her father. Somehow she’d divorced it from her mind, the actions belonging to someone who most certainly was not her. Right then, though, Feyre could remember picking up the cool metal of the bat and taking a swing. Her father had been facing his computer rather than her—he hadn’t seen it coming. 

His head had bounced off his keyboard with a sickening crunch. She knew, right then, if she didn’t keep going that she would pay for what she’d done. Though Feyre hadn’t cared about being punished. It had felt good to have her retribution, to repay him for the years of neglect. 

When she came back to the moment she found Rhys watching her. “I remember my first kill, too.”

“Was it your father?”

Rhys’s smile was soft. “My uncle, actually.”

“Why?”

“Well, he made a play for my fathers seat—that’s my official story.”

“But the truth?” Feyre questioned.

“I love my cousin,” he said quietly, eyes darkening in memory. “And my uncle did not.”

Oh. 

“So you’re, what, a man with a code?”

Rhys shrugged again. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” 

But Feyre already knew the answer to that. Maybe that was what had compelled her to let him in without the usual protocol being adhered to. And last night…fuck. This was a kidnapping—she hated him.

And she was attracted to him. 

It made him more dangerous than he already, especially now that he knew they shared this in common. She’d seen him naked, and she’d liked it. Had let him flip her over the bed and fuck her throat like…like a whore. Feyre had wanted to do more with him, had been thinking about him naked even as she opened his laptop. 

She was thinking about it right then even as the cabin emerged from the fog. It was remote—that was her first thought. There was no one for miles and only one road that had branched from the main one miles back. It was becoming apparent that the only way in or out was in a car and if she wanted to escape, she’d need to get his keys.

A problem, considering he had her in handcuffs. But if she could trick him into freeing her…let him believe she cared about him and would willingly marry him, Feyre could get unrestrained long enough to incapacitate him and escape. She didn’t know where she’d escape to, but that was future Feyre’s problem. Getting far away from him was the first step, though. 

Rhys was ever the gentleman, opening her door and helping her out only for Feyre to jam her elbow in his gut. 

“I hate you,” she reminded him.

“As long as you feel something for me.”

“Disgust? Loathing?”

“Arousal,” he replied, hoisting her up in the air for no other reason than he apparently wanted to touch her ass. “I can practically smell it on you.”

“You’re disgusting,” she retorted, jamming her elbow into his neck. Rhys hissed, but didn’t drop her as he led her into the house. 

“I’ll be eating that pussy by the end of the week. You’ll beg for my tongue.”

“Maybe it’s you who will beg,” she replied, thinking about holding a knife to his throat.

“Almost certainly,” Rhys practically purred. “Welcome home, baby.”

He dropped her to the wood floor in a heap, chuckling as he made his way through the warm living room toward the kitchen. 

“This isn’t my home.”

“Well, no. Our home is far nicer and closer to restaurants. But this could be your home for the holidays. I’ll teach you to ski.”

“You’re crazy.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, a glass of scotch in his hand. “This only ends in one of two ways for you and me, baby. I figure it’s better to choose my way than yours.”

“Your way is marriage, which means mine is—”

“Death,” he said, his voice roughening. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning, Feyre. You’ll leave with me as my wife or we won’t leave at all.”

“Because you’ll kill us both?” she accused.

“Because there are only so many places I can hide you before we’re found, and I’m not letting you go if we’re not married,” he bit back. 

And that was that. Feyre picked herself up off the floor so Rhys could offer her a drink, which she accepted, and a tour, which she had no choice but to participate in. The cabin was nice—four bedrooms plus Rhys’s office, a basement that looked decidedly haunted, and a hot tub out on the deck she had no interest in.

“Which room is mine?” she asked when he was finally done showing her the scope of her new prison. It was a stupid question and one Rhys answered with a broad grin. Her room was his room, and right then Feyre understood exactly how things were going to go down.

Or, she thought she did until she saw the outfits he’d brought out for her.

“This is see through,” she said, holding up the panels of fabric clearly meant to be some kind of outfit.

“Is it?” Rhys replied, clearly seeing her hand through the transparent fabric. 

“I’m not wearing it.”

“Even better,” she said with a grin before flopping to the bed. “That was my preference.”

Feyre tried to get into the bed wearing her jeans, but Rhys stopped her. “Pick.”

“You’re an animal,” she snapped, snatching the dress from the bed. “You can’t stockholm me into loving you.”

“You already love me,” Rhys informed her, so self assured that Feyre was momentarily taken aback. “You would have admitted it had you not found out who I am. I wonder where we’d be then, Feyre.”

“Hell,” she replied, stomach twisting at the thought, “because I would have killed us both.”

“It would be heaven, dying at your hands—”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, stalking for the attached bathroom. The sheer dress was exactly as bad as she’d imagined—she would have been better off naked. It was merely the illusion of privacy and what was worse was the knowledge that if she escaped, it would probably be in this. 

Feyre came back out to Rhys, arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to her. Not when he was already so pleased with himself. She imagined Rhys thought he’d won—that he was about to get everything he wanted if he just waited a little longer.

Feyre held out her still cuffed wrists. “Please,” she forced herself to say. 

“Because you asked so nicely,” Rhys agreed, pulling the key from his pocket. It was a relief not to have the heavy, tight metal no longer twisting her delicate skin. Feyre forced herself into bed, trying desperately not to drink in the heady scent of him. Couldn’t he have been ugly, at least? His visual appeal didn’t help anything��Feyre couldn’t escape her attraction to him, which was muddling things, at least a little. 

She let him hold her until he fell asleep. Feyre feigned it, evening out her breathing and keeping her eyes closed. And for a little while, as she waited, Feyre tried to imagine a life like this. Would he always make her dress like a whore? Would she be another little trinket to him, a toy to amuse himself with before he discarded her for someone more interesting. For all her fathers flaws—and there were many—he was always faithful to their mother. But Feyre had grown up in the life and she knew that was the exception and not the rule.

Rhys was beautiful. She doubted she’d get that kind of fidelity from him. Deciding she wasn’t going to ask him any of her questions, Feyre instead slipped from his loosened grip, quickly pulled on her shoes, and began searching for car keys.

Feyre was jumpy—every creak, every rattle of the wind sent her crawling out of her skin until she couldn’t take it anymore. Stealing his coat, Feyre decided she’d take her chances and just make a run for it. 

The air was cold, seeping through Rhys’s warm jacket before the door was closed behind her. Feyre braced herself before taking the icy steps to the drive. His parked car taunted her and though it was tempting to damage the sleek, black body, Feyre didn’t have time.

She needed to put as much distance between herself and that man as she could before he woke up. Wishing she was stealthier, Feyre left the road for only a moment before realizing how slick and steep the sides were—she was likely to accidentally topple down an embankment and freeze to death.

She was likely to freeze to death anyway. There was no snow, no rain, but the wind was brutal and leftover liquid slipped into the cracks of her shoes until her feet were numb. The pure darkness around her did nothing to help. Every little sound was a predator coming to kill her. Feyre had assumed she could figure out her way back to the road, but after what felt like an eternity walking, she began to feel hopeless.

Scared, too.

What if she’d gone the wrong way and no one found her? Not even Rhys, who she knew would be out looking the minute he found her missing. Feyre took another step, slipping on a patch of unseen ice. Throwing her arms out to steady herself, she stumbled to the side and went tumbling to the side of the mountain they were on. Snow slipped through the openings in Rhys’s jacket and covered her face, muffling her panicked, desperate scream. 

Certain she was going to die, Feyre squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for freefall. Instead, her body slammed into the trunk of a pine tree, keeping her from going any further. She was trapped in a coffin made of ice and her lungs hurt every time she took a breath.

And still, she was alive.

Feyre swallowed, looking up at the swaying branches overhead. Okay. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. All she had to do was—

“Feyre?!”

“Rhys,” she breathed, strangely relieved to see him. The darkness was minutely illuminated by the headlights of his car, and when she squinted upward, she could see the dark outline of him peering down.

“Feyre?!” he yelled again and too late, Feyre realized he couldn’t see her. 

“Rhys!” she called in return, the effort making her cough. It was enough, though—she heard him swear loudly before turning back for the car. She was so, so fucked and she knew it. Right then, though, Rhys was her salvation as he carefully made his way down after her. 

“Are you trying to put me in an early grave?” he asked once he reached her. By then, Feyre’s teeth were chattering so violently she couldn’t speak. All she could do was press her frigid cheek to his warm chest when he lifted her into his arms. Somehow he managed to get her back up that hillside and into the passenger seat of his car. 

He was angry judging by the tight set of his jaw and how roughly he gripped the steering wheel. And Feyre, for her part, was too exhausted to even try and do damage control. She merely let Rhys do whatever he felt was necessary, which included stripping them both of their clothes and piling blankets on top of them. She didn’t protest, either, when she felt the length of his warm body pressed against her spine.

“Just breathe,” Rhys murmured into her hair. “You’ll survive this.”

Feyre fell asleep like that and when she woke, she was sweaty and thirsty, but she was alive. Alone, too, judging from the lack of Rhys beside her. There were no laid out clothes and when she went looking for the sheer dresses he’d picked up for her, she found nothing but his clothes. Deciding on one of his shirts, Feyre pulled a long, black tee over her head before making her way to the main area of the cabin.

Rhys was waiting in a pair of charcoal slacks and a buttoned up, violet shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was texting on his phone, brows furrowed. 

“Eat,” he said without looking at her, gesturing toward a plate of eggs. Was he really not mad? Feyre tried to think of something to say to him before deciding that really, this was his fault. He’d kidnapped her, after all—did he not expect her to try and escape him? She wasn’t going to apologize for trying. 

Feyre did as she was told while Rhys largely ignored her, staring down at his phone reading whatever had him so captivated. He took her plate when she finished, sliding it into the sink before gesturing with two fingers for her to stand.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, his voice suggesting she do as he say. 

“Rhys—”

“You could have died,” he interrupted, his eyes burning with the same intensity as the stars in the sky. “You would have died if I’d woken any later. So get up, Feyre darling.”

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked him, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Get up, Feyre.”

“If you hurt me—”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he snarled, clearly offended. She believed him, thinking back to the night before when he’d carried her back to bed without a word. He hadn’t even protested when her frigid back touched his skin and Feyre knew she would have made him suffer alone beneath blankets had the situation been reversed. 

“But you’re going to do something?” she asked. His eyes sparkled. 

“Turn around,” he instructed. Feyre did, only to hear the clicking of the handcuffs. 

“Rhys—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, running his hands over her shoulders. “I won’t have you hitting me in the face.”

“But I can kick you?” she challenged as he poked her toward the hall.

“You could try,” he replied in that good natured way of his. Rhys took Feyre to his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Feyre halted, barefoot on the soft rug, until Rhys poked her in the spine again.

“Sit,” he said, nodding toward his chair behind his desk. It was awkward given this time her hands were cuffed behind her back. 

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching you a lesson,” he murmured, eyeing her with appreciation. “I have a few calls I need to sit in on and I clearly can’t leave you alone while I work. So you’ll sit here with me and keep me company until I’m done.”

“You’d let me hear all your dirty secrets?” she taunted, her tone implying she would absolutely tell a federal agent if she escaped.

Rhys didn’t take the bait. “My wife ought to know where our money comes from.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he replied with a finality she didn’t bother arguing with. “Now spread your legs.”

“No.”

Rhys stared at her for a moment, head cocked like a predator assessing his prey. Feyre was certain she could outlast him, ignoring the bolt of arousal that had snaked up her spine the moment she realized what he wanted.

He wasn’t a serious man, she decided. He was wanted, on the run with a literal hostage and he wanted her to spread her legs? Not tie her up in his dungeon and withhold food or water until she broke…he wanted to eat her out.

The phone rang, causing them both to start. Rhys pressed a finger to his lips in a demand of silence, before pushing the speaker button. 

“Go,” he said in that dark, rich voice of his.

“Boss, there’s been some shit—”

Rhys muted himself, only half listening as he murmured, “Spread your legs, Feyre, or I’m going to sit you on my cock for the next three hours.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed as Rhys began to sink to his knees.

“Wouldn’t I?” he murmured, grabbing her knees and wrenching them open. She was wearing only a shirt—everything else was soaked from the night before and Rhys had obnoxiously not provided any undergarments. He could see everything…though she’d already shown him two nights before.

Rhys leaned behind him, pulling his phone closer so he could hit the button and say, “Where is he now?”

“Dead.”

“Good. Tell me the rest,” he replied, clearly paying attention to the conversation in a way Feyre wasn’t. Then he was muting himself once again, pushing her thigh wide, and lowering his head.

“Rhys—”

“Shhh,” he murmured again. “I’m working, my love.”

She couldn’t focus on anything—not even kicking him in the face. He was so ridiculous, so beautiful, and he was on his knees trailing kisses up one of her bare thighs.

“How many—” Feyre took a breath when she felt her lips graze her pussy. “How many laundromats do you own?”

“We own,” he replied, the idiot. “Just four. I prefer car washes, personally. There is a little more overhead but it’s easier to…well. Easier to operate, let's just say.”

“Oh,” she whispered, not responding to what he’d said at all. Rhys was teasing her, his tongue just barely touching her clit before darting away back for her thigh. She didn’t notice him reach behind him for the button, though she did hear him speak.

“Kill him.”

“Kill who?” she asked. Rhys merely licked at her again, perhaps hoping to distract her. It worked for a moment—Feyre arched her hips closer, wishing he’d just get on with it. 

“Needy,” he praised, dipping a finger into her slick pussy. “You’ll sit nicely in my lap.”

“Tell me who you want killed,” she repeated.

Rhys sucked at her, drawing a soft moan from her lips. “Hybern.”

“Who?”

“You don’t need to worry—”

“You said what was yours was mine,” she reminded him, twisting her lower half away from his mouth. She could punish him too it seemed, because Rhys looked up at her with frustration, a lock of his dark hair flopping into his eyes.

“A rival,” he finally said, easing her back in front of him. “Your fathers death opened a power vacuum I can’t close because the feds are always watching. He’s encroaching and I’m tired of it.”

“So you’ll kill him?” she questioned.

Rhys licked her again, toying with her. “I’d do worse if I could get away with it. Death is easy.”

“Is that the kind of man you are?”

Their eyes met. “Yes.”

Did that bother her? Strangely, she found it didn’t. Feyre let her knees fall wider and Rhys groaned as he pulled her closer to his face. 

“I should have done this last night,” he whispered, his breath warm against her pussy. “You wouldn’t have left.”

“I would have,” she lied, unsure if that was true or not. 

“It's my fault,” he murmured before taking yet another taste of her. “And I can’t forgive myself for any of it.”

She had the sense he wasn’t just talking about the night before. Feyre had always assumed Rhys must hate her—that he wanted her dead. He should have. Any reasonable person would. And yet right then, Rhys’s violet gaze found hers and she saw the anguish hiding just behind his cool amusement. 

She felt pity. That was a mistake, to empathize with this man. One minute she’d be reassuring him he’d done nothing wrong and the next she’d have a wedding band on her finger as she drove their children to soccer practice.

Feyre could feel it, that tug toward fate. For one moment, Feyre knew the future that stretched before her—but it wasn’t in her nature to accept things blindly. If she was going to be his wife, she’d run toward it kicking and screaming.

Later, she decided. The kicking could come after he finished licking her.

Though Rhys very quickly tired of his little game. Deciding he’d sufficiently worked her up, if the way she was writing against his face was any indication, Rhys stood, revealing his own erection pushed tight against his pants. 

She watched through half lidded eyes as he undid the button with his strong hands, admiring the veins snaking up his arms. 

Rhys kicked them off, revealing mountains crowned with stars over his knees. “I swore I’d never kneel before anyone,” Rhys told her, sliding a finger into the waistband of his briefs. “But I’d kneel for you, darling.”

“You’re pathetic,” she breathed, transfixed on his now freed cock. It was exactly how she remembered—thick and long, the size of him demanding she look at him. Touch him. Taste him. Feyre could still remember her desperation to take him in her mouth and the pleasure she’d felt when he’d come.

“Up,” he told her, ignoring her insults. Feyre didn’t budge, legs still draped over the arms of the chair. That was no problem for Rhys, though—he merely lifted her up and sat himself down against the leather while ignoring the damp spot she’d left behind. 

“Be my good girl,” he murmured against her neck. “Keep your legs open.” “Rhys—” “Open your legs, baby," he repeated in that soft, seductive voice of his.

She did, gasping when the blunt head of his cock stabbed her entrance. “Rhys,” she whispered, twisting in his lap as he wrapped his arms tight around her.

“You can take me,” he insisted, though Feyre didn’t think that was true. Rhys pushed her down just enough to take the first few inches while Feyre cried out, squeezing herself around him so tightly she didn’t think he could wedge the rest of him into her.

Behind her, Feyre could feel Rhys’s heart pounding through the shirt he still wore. “That’s a good girl,” he praised before sinking his teeth into her shoulder. “Take the rest.”

“It’s too much,” she whined, though in truth it was easier to adjust than she expected. Rhys must have felt her relax because he was back to impaling her with a few more inches, and then more still, until Feyre swore she could feel him in her lungs. 

“Now sit,” he said, swearing softly when she squeezed herself tight around him.

“Sit?”

“Keep my cock warm while I work,” he replied, scooting his chair forward. The rocking motion made them both moan, though once he was close enough to his computer, Rhys went still again. It was torture to just sit there, aroused and needy from his teasing tongue and yet when Feyre tried to grind herself against him, Rhys swatted at her exposed pussy lightly.

“Don’t move.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll fuck that bratty mouth until you can’t even whisper,” he replied. 

She wished, though she didn’t say. Feyre did try, too. She tried to sit still and pay attention to his conversations, the emails he wrote, the payroll software he used. She saw a message from his associate A—Azriel, she learned—and a long complaint about a woman named Gwyn who’d pointed a shotgun at his face and fired before he’d had a chance to say a word.

Rhys had chuckled when he read it, like the whole thing amused him.

But underneath it all, Feyre was distracted by his pulse hammering in his cock and the way his hand would occasionally drift up her thigh to tease her clit before dropping it again. She could never quite get comfortable, could never ease herself out of her desperate arousal. He kept her on edge while he himself did nothing except hold himself inside her.

How long could a man keep an erection, she wondered? How long could this man? Longer than most she supposed. Rhys took two more calls, leaning back so the angle changed and shifting just enough that Feyre had to swallow more than one whimper. His fingers teased and touched, feeling the place their bodies joined over and over. It was like he couldn’t help himself.

“Rhys,” she whispered when the call ended, twisting in his lap. “Let me go.”

“I can’t,” he admitted, arching his neck. “I need to fuck you.”

“Rhys,” she warned, but he was too quick. Shoving aside the things on his desk so his phone and mouse and keyboard all clattered to the floor, Rhys had her lying against the wood with his cock still buried inside her.

He pushed up her shirt, exposing her breasts before slowly pulling himself out. Feyre tried to arch up, forcing him out of her entirely, but Rhys was more  practiced than most men. He didn’t flinch, slamming himself to the hilt back inside her body.

“Sneaky,” he praised. “I should spank you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she panted, arousal sparking bright and hot. 

“I would dare,” he disagreed, wrapping one of his broad hands loosely around her throat. “The things I want to do to you…”

Maybe she didn’t want him to finish that sentence. She wanted to know about his fantasies, though. Rhys was so liberal with his praise, his thoughts, his desires. After years with Tamlin, it was strange to get an answer to her questions. Tamlin kept it all to himself—even asking him how he’d enjoyed the sex only ever earned her a murmured, “it was good.”

“You’re so fucking wet,” Rhys whispered, thrusting again. “So tight.”

Feyre couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her, arching into him as he brought himself lower. Rhys’s teeth grazed her throat, pressing a sucking, bruising kiss against her throat. 

“You’re mine,” he told her, his next thrust punishing in its intensity. “Say it.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

His grip on her throat tightened. “Say it,” he warned, restricting her air just enough to make her want him more. She wished he’d just shut up and kiss her.

Feyre tried to turn her face but Rhys squeezed tighter still, hips pistoning into her with an unrelenting intensity. Feyre was drowning in pleasure and Rhys must have been able to feel it. His other hand was between her legs, teasing and touching her swollen clit until Feyre was clenching her teeth, desperate to stave off her orgasm. 

“Say it!”

Feyre came so violently she felt her spine crack as she arched off the desk. “You’re mine,” she heard herself babbling, forgetting what, exactly, he wanted to hear. Rhys groaned, his own rhythm stuttering before he pushed deeper and deeper, all but rutting into her as he chased his own pleasure.

She swore she felt him come, though maybe it was just the illusion of it. She certain felt the wetness of his come slip from her body as Rhys held himself still, chest heaving.

“I am yours,” he swore, his voice soft and low. “I always have been. I’ve been waiting for you—all five years with no one but you.”

“You’re insane,” she whispered with too much affection. His was merely the afterglow of her orgasm that made her soft and sweet. 

Rhys withdrew himself, fingers pushing his own spend back into her body. What did Feyre care? She was on birth control, determined not to have a child until the whole ordeal was over. If she even wanted children—she’d never been certain of that.

So lost in her thoughts, Feyre didn’t notice Rhys sinking back to his knees. Not until he pulled her to the edge of his desk.

“The day isn’t over,” he said, sliding his fingers through the mess. “And neither am I.”

Feyre merely laid her head back. 

Good.

[yuyuswrld]

O Captain, My Captain

Series Intro

characters: various aot boys x reader

genre: SMAU with writing, romance, smut, angst

for my marco fans, there’s a little sneak peak at him at the end :)

notes: this series will be 18+ even though this introduction does not have any smut in it. please do not interact with me if you are under 18. all characters in this series are over the age 18.

You learned that Eren Yeager was a stone wall incredibly quickly. It was a shock to you, considering how popular he was despite being unable to converse with someone he didn’t know well. You’d have steered away from him forever if it had been up to you. However, knowing your luck, you had to see him every day after all your classes were over.

It was a slip of judgment to allow yourself to be recruited as the next manager of the volleyball team. Sure, you had watched a couple of games here and there for school spirit, not to mention copious amounts of alcohol at the after-parties. But when one of your professors approached you on your way out of class, describing a great way to amp up your resume and get all-expenses-paid vacations, becoming a sports team manager was the last thing you expected.

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Connie starts to explain after you walk into the gym, noting the tasks you'll be in charge of before you commit to the offer. “Our old manager, Hanna, got pregnant with one of my homies. Now she’s off giving birth and whatnot, so we’ve been down a manager.”

“So what does a manager typically do?” You question, shifting the conversation slightly to get to the point. The more you look at the different stereotypical characters running across the courts and the loud smacks that echoed throughout the gym, the more your desire to take the opportunity dwindles. Sure, cute boys and another achievement on your resume are great or whatever, but you really try to avoid getting committed to sports – especially after crashing and burning last time. You shudder as a chill runs down your spine at the thought before Connie starts talking again.

“Oh, um. I won't lie, I honestly have no idea what she did, either.” You stare at Connie in silence, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Uh, is there someone who does?” You ask. It's getting difficult to ignore your doubts about your decision to come here.

“Yeah, I think so. Let me go grab ‘im.” Connie jogs further down the court, interrupting someone as they finish their current spike. But as your eyes focus in on who was walking closer, you knew you we’re going to have the displeasure of meeting Eren Yeager.

Connie runs over to drag his brown-haired teammate over, who takes his sweet time walking over after sparing you only a glance. He is good looking, sure – but you aren't fooled by appearances, and you've heard far too much about him to even remotely consider him attractive from listening to Petra gossiping about him. She had a big mouth and somehow knew everything about everyone, the good and the bad, but it came in handy when it came to staying in the loop at school. Eren had a nasty habit of cursing out any girl who made an advance on him, citing his career and how a ‘bitch’ would only get in the way of it.

You think back to the memory of Petra sipping her drink, watching Eren walk out of school and head towards his Hellcat in the parking lot. You two had been sitting at the school’s cafe as you enjoyed your “study” date, which had inevitably just turned into a gossip session.

“You see that guy? That’s Eren Yeager. He’s on our volleyball team and he’s a fucking psycho.” She'd rolled her eyes as she recounted the gossip she had gotten from her friend. “Apparently Mina – y’know the one from our bio class? They hooked up at a party and afterwards he accused her of trying to sabotage his volleyball career. He even called her a psycho. That’s not even the only time he’s done it apparently. I know he’s cute, but stay away unless you want to end up on a true crime podcast.”

You brace yourself for the upcoming conversation as he nears.

“You’re going to be the new manager?” Eren says in a monotone voice, as if being forced by his mother to make small talk with a distant aunt. The displeasure of being interrupted is written all over his face.

“No – well –” You start before Eren cuts you off without hesitation.

“Usually Hanna prepares the towels, fills the bottles with water, and mops the gym after practice. Coach Levi's pretty anal about the gym being clean, so pay attention to that. You’ll want to learn about formations and strategies, too; Hanna fucking sucked when it came to game sense. You’ll work with the sports director Erwin to set up practice matches and travel plans. There’s probably more, but that’s your job, not mine.” He jogs back over to do spiking drills without another word. Your jaw slackens, scoffing at the attitude. What a little shit. Connie shrugs at you in an I’m pretty sure that’s right way. You smile at him, politely dismissing yourself before trudging your way back to your professor’s office.

“Absolutely not,” you say, dramatically sighing to emphasize the sheer disappointment you feel from the experience. “I only talked to Connie and Eren, which was already too much. You’d have better luck with a dog trainer or circus clown to manage them.” Your shoulders drop, but you prepare to defend yourself as to why.

“Please,” Professor Hange begs, their eyes beading with desperation. “I was the one who introduced the previous manager to the guy that got her pregnant. On accident, of course, but they’re totally on my tail about getting a new manager to fill the spot!” They spin around haphazardly before collapsing on their standing desk in an unconvincing sadness. “I’ll even see if they’ll pay you as if you were working a normal student job.”

You internally cringe, but are now forced to consider the prospects. Chewing on your lip, you respond. You know if you look back on this moment at any point, you’d want to go back in time and slap yourself.

“If you can make it a paid position, I’ll do it.”

Unsurprisingly, Professor Hange got their way in the end.

next: part 1, reiner x reader

[specialagentlokitty]

Lucifer (fox) x reader - worth more

Sitting down at your desk, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and sighed heavily as you set it down on your desk.

“Still nothing?” Dan asked.

“Nope, I mean usually he would’ve messaged me by now at least…” you mumbled.

Dan gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Just give him so more time, you know what he’s like. I’m sure he’s just busy with work.” Chloe smiled.

You nodded your head, knowing that was usually the case your boyfriend usually just got so caught up in work he’d forget to reply.

“You’re still wasting your time with that low life?” Lucifer asked.

You glared at him a little bit.

“He’s my boyfriend lucifer, don’t be such an ass.”

“Well clearly he’s got you wrapped around his finger because you can’t see that he’s cheating on you.”

“Lucifer!” Chloe hissed.

“He’s not.” You snapped.

Getting up, you walked away with some files, going to find somewhere else to work.

You decided to sit in the lab while you waited for Ella to get back so you could go to lunch with her, and lucifer would most likely stay near Chloe

You managed to work in peace for a little while until your phone began to ring, and you answered it, putting it on speaker.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked.

“Hey, yeah it’s fine. Look I’m going to have to cancel our date night. I have to work late.”

“Oh, again? We’ve not had a date night for weeks, and it was really hard to get reservations to this place.”

“Yeah, well work is work so.”

You glanced up as the door was opened and chose to ignore lucifer as he entered.

“No I know that, I just don’t want you to overwork yourself. You’re always working late.”

“Yeah I know.”

Lucifer padded over and looked over your shoulder.

“Oh is that the douche you call your boyfriend?”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“It’s my colleague, apparently he doesn’t know when to mind his own business.”

You heard your boyfriend scoff on the other end of the line.

“Seriously? I told you I don’t want you working with that prick.”

“I’m sorry, you know I don’t get a choice in this.” You sighed.

“Yeah. Right. Bet that’s what you say when he’s at your apartment right? You got no choice.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. You know I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Fuck off.”

Your boyfriend hung up and you sighed, locking your phone and you ran a hand down your face, taking a small breath.

“Seriously, what do you see in that idiot? Clearly he’s beneath you, I don’t even see why you waste your time with somebody like him, for someone so smart you sure can be stupid.”

You spun around to lucifer and you punched him, shaking your hand as you hissed in pain.

He looked at you in pure shock.

“What the hell is your problem lucifer!?”

“You hit me!”

“I mean with my boyfriend asshole! Why the fuck do you keep trying to break us up?!”

Lucifer scoffed.

“Trust me if you stopped being so blind you would end this relationship rather quickly.”

“Just because you go sleeping around with everything with a pulse doesn’t mean he does!”

“Well, I have two eyes and a memory that say differently.”

You clenched your jaw.

“You know what, stay away from me. Your job is to work with Chloe, not me.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that!”

You grabbed your things, making your way to the door and lucifer trailed after you.

“(Y/N), come on!”

“Leave me alone! I don’t want to look at you anymore!”

You dropped everything on the desk, and you grabbed your car keys, deciding it would be a nice way to get away from him.

Lucifer went to follow you, but Chloe grabbed his arm and shoved him into one of the interrogation rooms.

“What the hell did you do?!” She hissed.

“I don’t know! (Y/N) punched me in the face and just stormed away!”

You spent a few hours driving around, just trying to get out of your head, and you decided to go home to grab your shopping list.

Jogging up into the apartment you let yourself in and walked towards the kitchen.

Grabbing the paper on the fridge, you looked over the list, taking the pen from your pocket to add a few more things.

That’s when you heard the sound of something being knocked over.

Furrowing your brows, you set the pen and paper down, hand reaching towards your gun as you started to go around the apartment, checking everywhere somebody could hide.

The only place you hadn’t checked was the bathroom, so you walked over and reached out for the handle.

You could heard somebody inside, and you threw the door open, gun raised and ready.

“LAPD!”

The two people inside stopped and you blinked a few times.

“(Y/N) I.. I thought..”

You calmly put your gun away, and stepped aside, gesturing for them to get out of the bathroom and they did, both scrambling for their clothes.

“Get out.”

“You can’t kick me out of my own apartment!”

“My apartment James, and I said get the fuck out! Both of you before I find something to arrest you both for!”

The woman looked at your boyfriend, and then looked at you.

“Asshole! You said you were single!”

She smacked him, and pulled her shirt over her head, shooting you an apologetic look.

“I’m so sorry!”

With that she ran out, and you looked at your partner.

“Get the fuck out James! This is my apartment in my name!”

“You’re the one who started this!”

“I just caught you in the bathroom cheating on me!”

“So what?! You’re clearly doing that lucifer dude!”

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to the front door.

“I’m done. This is done. We’re through James, get out.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll charge you with trespassing.” You shrugged.

He sneered a little bit.

Storming forward he backed you into a wall, and your hand went for your gun out of reflex.

James grabbed your hand, gripping it so tightly you were sure he was going to break it.

“Nobody will ever love you anyways…” he snarled.

James threw you to the ground, and you hit your head off the corner of the wall.

With that he left, and you sat there, heart in your through, trembling out of pure fear because never had James raised a hand to you before.

You stayed sat in shock for minutes before you reached into your pocket, calling for your best friend.

She was over so fast you were sure that Ella had managed to break more than one traffic law.

She knelt in front of you, touching your forehead where it was bleeding slightly.

“Chloe and Dan have put a bolo out on James, they said you can come in when you’re ready to say what happened.” She said softly.

You slowly nodded your head, and she helped you up, taking you to your room where she cleaned your wound and stitched it up for you.

“I.. I don’t know… he’s never…”

“I know…”

Ella sat on the bed with you, holding you in her arms as tears burned your eyes.

“Why would he do this…?” You sniffled.

“Because he’s a horrible man and when I get my hands on him I swear I’ll.. I’ll… ugh!”

“Ella don’t, please. I don’t know what he’ll do to you…”

Ella looked at you, and she rested her head on yours.

“They’ll find him…”

You just nodded your head.

“How about some ice cream, and some really crazy action films? You love action films?”

“No.. no I uh.. I just.. I’m going to get changed…”

“Alright, I’ll wait in the living room.”

Ella gave you a little squeeze, and she left the room, closing the door behind her.

You changed into a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, hanging around your room for a few minutes before you made your way out.

Ella was already sat on your couch with a tub of ice cream and two spoons, and she grinned a little.

“Come on, I know you love ice cream.”

You smiled weakly, making your way over and you sat down next to her.

“Here, eat ice cream.”

She handed you a spoon and held the tub out for you.

Ella stayed for a little while until she was called away for a crime scene, and you went to get changed.

“Ah! No!”

“Ella if there’s a crime scene I need to be there.”

“Nope! Absolutely not! You’re going to stay right here and I’ll be right back over.”

Ella hugged you, and she rushed away, and you carried on eating ice cream.

You finished the tub and you went to the kitchen to get another, only to hear your front door open and you went to reach for a knife.

“Well, if I knew you were going to stab me I would have definitely thought twice about coming here.”

You sighed, setting the knife back down.

“This is breaking and entering.”

“Only if I broke the lock, it so happens Miss Lopaz gave me her key.”

“Well.. go away…”

Grabbing your tub of ice cream, you went to walk past him but he grabbed your elbow.

Because of earlier events you immediately recoiled from his touch, shuffling away from him, keeping your face turned away.

Lucifer frowned a little bit.

“(Y/N)?” He asked.

You ignored him, making your way back to the couch, sitting down and you set your ice cream on the table.

Lucifer walked over, keeping his distance from you as he crouched down at the other side of the table.

You glanced at him, and you saw he was looking disheveled, his hair wasn’t as neat as it usually was, and there was spots of blood on his shirt.

“Oh, it’s not my blood if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“What happened?”

“Well, it would appear your ex took a rather… let’s say nasty fall down the stairs of the precinct.”

You slowly nodded your head, and he slowly held out his hand, gesturing to where you were sat.

“May I?”

You nodded.

Lucifer got up, making his way back around the table to sit in front of you, and he reached up.

You flinched a little, and he hesitated.

“You know I would never hurt you..” lucifer whispered.

He moved his hand upwards, trailing his fingers along your cheek, moving some of the hair from your head.

He ran his fingers over the bandaid that covered the cut on your head, and he could see the slight blood that had came through it.

“I should have done more than throw him down those stairs…” he growled.

You locked eyes with him, and he smiled softly at you.

“You deserve so much more..” he said softly.

You shrugged a little bit.

“Hey, come on. Don’t do that to yourself, you know you deserve more, everybody knows that you deserve so much more… the whole world..”

“Don’t lie..”

Lucifer chuckled a little bit.

“I would never lie to you, you know that. Everything I’ve said is the truth.”

You sniffled a little bit.

“I.. I just don’t get it.. I don’t understand why he’d do it…”

“Because he was a prick, and he never deserved somebody with such a kind soul as yours (Y/N), and believe me there will be a special spot in hell reserved just for him after what he did to you.”

Lucifer wiped away a few of your tears that had falling from your eyes.

“Come now, don’t waste your tears for somebody so unworthy.”

Lucifer shuffled forward so he was sat on the edge of the table, and you held your arms out to him.

He moved over, sitting on the couch with you, letting you rest your head on his chest, and he placed his hand on your head, wrapping his other arm around you.

“You should never have to cry…” he whispered.

Lucifer held you as you quietly sobbed, sometimes his hand absentmindedly going to covered the wound on your head as if he could just take it away.

He couldn’t.

He knew that.

But he could sit here with you, hold you when you needed it the most, make sure that you weren’t alone right now and just remind you that you were worth so much more