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icallhimjoey · 9 months

Note

"Good boy. Time for supper."

JAIL. IDK IF IT'S HORNY JAIL OR REGULAR, JUST JAIL. 😩

well then LOCK ME TF UP because our boy's STARVING. here's the last part, and obviously, it's all 18+ and i really wont like you if you're a minor and continued reading. like, i genuinely wont like you as a person, so go sit with that. OKAY EVERYONE ELSE, ENJOY! Wordcount: 6.6K

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Double Or Nothing

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You couldn’t think about it. Not in detail, but also not in the general sense. When you woke up the next morning, you let yourself briefly dip a toe into everything you could remember of the night before, and then you shut the door on it. You were halfway through breakfast leant up against the counter when Izzy rushed in, hair still wet from the shower. She looked… bad.

“What time did you get back last night?”

You’d absolutely heard her come in about fifty minutes after Joe had left. You had to pretend to be asleep already for fear of Izzy being able to read your mind since you weren’t able to think of anything else then. Or even, now. But it was the morning and there was routine, and it was easier to pretend nothing had happened the night before when there were little jobs that needed doing.

Izzy blinked at you, an empty stare somehow full of regret, and said, “I wasn’t meant to have any drinks.”

Her hangover had been the focus of the morning, which was a fucking godsend. Meant you didn’t even have to mention the bet. Didn’t have to lie about what the favour had been.

You had your eyes on your phone like a hawk all day. Couldn’t leave it out of sight, and were disappointed every time you got a message from someone else. Made you think, “shut up” when you didn’t see Joe’s name on your screen.

Until Joe did text.

“today’s favour will be over at mine”

And like a stupid teenager, you waited four minutes before you replied. Couldn’t come across too eager, could you?

“uh oh… should I be scared?”

Maybe Joe was going to have you make him dinner, or clean the floors. Something mundane he didn’t want to do himself today. You couldn’t possibly let Joe get the idea that you hoped for a repeat of the night before. If Joe was so hellbent on you winning the bet, that meant that maybe he was also hellbent on making you come on his mouth for seven days.

A girl could dream.

“no”

“ok”

“8ish if you can”

“ok”

You showered just in case. Exfoliated and shaved and sprayed some perfume down low that you walked through, because apparently you really were 16 still and boys thought girls were gross, didn’t they?

When you walked into Joe’s flat, you were glad for the teenager inside of you, because all arrows pointed in the same direction. Joe had a slow playlist going, and he’d lit a scented candle. Just the one. Easy to pretend it was there to get rid of the smell dinner left behind, like it wasn’t there for ambiance. Not that it mattered; the mood lighting took care of the ambiance plenty – cornered floor and table lamps casted the room in warm, soft oranges.

Before you could even ask what it was Joe needed of you, he said, “Sit.” and like a fucking puppy, you plonked right down in the middle of his sofa without question.

“You understand where this is going,”

You did, but couldn’t let on that you did, though. Even when Joe kneeled in front of you and started removing you shoes.

“I do?”

Joe scrunched his nose, kept undressing your lower half and said, “I think you do. You know, since you won and all,”

Made you give him a deadpan stare, just short of an eye roll. Made him smirk like a naughty schoolboy. One with an ego, though. One that knew he was right and was going to keep the bit going until you verbally agreed with him and would tell him he was right.

Unfortunately for him, you weren’t that easy.

Joe knew that.

Didn’t make trying to get you there less fun though.

You came so quick, it was stupid. Blamed it on his fingers that got involved this time. They’d hooked, and they’d hooked just right. Only two – two was plenty.

Afterwards you’d barely spoken. You’d laughed because you’d just orgasmed on Joe’s sofa – the place where you all watched weird obscure films sometimes, right on the crease between two cushions that you always lost your phone in. It was all so bizarre, you couldn’t do anything other than laugh, and Joe’d looked at you a second, then asked, “Gonna admit it?” And of course, you weren’t going to admit anything. Silly boy.

Joe had then gotten up and had stepped away – had to adjust himself in his jeans on the first step. You’d pretended you hadn’t seen and used the privacy Joe’d given by turning his back to quickly get your bottom half back into your clothes.

“I need to know what to tell people when they ask about these favours,” you looked over your shoulder and saw Joe blow out the candle. Fucking knew it was there just for the occasion. Men are so transparent.

“Mmh,” Joe thought a second, then shrugged. Said he’d go with whatever you’d tell ‘em, and he seemed not fussed. Not like how you were fussed. You didn’t need your friends knowing about this, but Joe seemed to carry an air of we’re adults, who gives a shit what we get up to, and maybe that was the better way of going about it.

Then Joe said he was going for a shower, and whilst zipping up your ankle boots, you’d gone, “I’ll see myself out!” all chipper and upbeat, like you hadn’t just shared wild intimacy together.

Wednesday had happened in the same fashion.

Joe had texted, “come to my place again”.

You thought you were being cute when you replied, “what for”.

Joe replied, “come at my place again” and you’d blushed and deleted the message straight after because no one could ever accidentally come across that.

Joe’d eaten you out on his sofa again, and you were surprised that you didn’t like how you weren’t in his bed. You were also surprised that afterwards, you were so into it, you wanted to return the favour. But just like before, Joe was quick to slip into his bathroom. You didn’t want to assume it was to rid himself of the blood and pressure that had pooled in his underwear, but you didn’t know why else Joe couldn’t really hang out with you for a little while after.

By now, it had become a little easier to look him in the eye, though.

On the fourth day of the week of favours, there was no denying how the rest of the weeks was going to go. The two of you would meet, either at his or at yours if you had the place to yourself, Joe would get his head between your legs until you felt dizzy and weak with want, and then he’d try to make you admit that you’d won. There were no kisses, no cuddles and no hands held. It truly felt like a friend doing another friend a favour, except the other way around.

And it was fine.

Joe kept his attention down where he was supposed to, and you tried to focus on the nice things, like how Joe didn’t high five you after. And how he didn’t force eye contact during. You know, things other men had done that had made you give up on their potential.

Yea, it was weird. But it was also nice. Nice was a weird way of describing it, but it was your first thought when Joe jokingly licked the inside of your leg until he heard frustrated huffs coming from above him. He had to stop because he was laughing so much, and you’d shoved him and then pretended to want to get out of your bed which turned into a little wrestle full of giggles that only stopped because he’d latched onto not your leg. Reduced you into a whimpering mess immediately.

That was nice.

It was different when it was with a friend and not some weird guy of an app. Better.

But for whatever reason, on Friday you’d woken up in a horrid mood and hadn’t been able to shake it all throughout the day. After work, you kind of wanted to go home and sit in the bath for three hours. Have wine and watch a comfort film from your childhood that could easily make you cry, like The Little Princess, or whatever.

“no pub for me tonight”

You sent into the groupchat. Got immediate private replies from both Izzy and Joe.

“got a date planned you haven’t told me about?” from Izzy.

“??” from Joe.

Two other friends made fun of Joe making you do too many things – said, “stop making her unpack your whole flat Joe” and “burnt out on day 5, best send flowers again”. You ignored the groupchat for the time being.

You sent Izzy and Joe the same reply.

“bad day, just want to be home”

Surely, Joe would understand. He had said he wouldn’t force you into doing something you didn’t want to do, and everyone had their off-days, right?

Izzy replied, “promise I’ll be quiet when I get in”

Then, a message in the group chat from her, “everyone else still going?” which trickled in thumbs up emojis over the next hour or so. Also from Joe.

And wow, that went easier than expected. Your skip a day lose a favour rule could’ve made that difficult. The strange sense of relief you felt was welcome after some twat from administration had made your blood boil by e-mailing the whole company about a mistake you’d made, warning everyone not to do the same.

You honestly thought you wouldn’t see Joe that day.

Yet, you weren’t surprised when your doorbell rang, and you saw Joe through the intercom.

“Hey, what–”

“Said I had an early morning and snuck off before anyone could ask what I’d be up to,”

You were in your pajamas – the kind you didn’t really let others see, ever. Were tired, definitely not in the mood, but Joe’d come over for one thing and one thing only.

You buzzed him in on a defeated sigh and waited for him by the front door.

When you didn’t really step aside to let Joe in, Joe slowly squeezed himself past you, his face way too close to yours. Hovered there a second, noses nearly touching.

Always close enough to kiss.

And yet...

“Come on, I’m starving.” Joe said and for the smallest of moments, you thought maybe Joe would make his way over to the kitchen. Find your left-overs to heat up. He didn’t, of course, door of your bedroom already opening.

You looked a bit dazed when you closed the door behind him, because just getting his face close to yours had flipped something inside of you. You swallowed thickly before you turned and made your way over to where Joe had installed himself on your bed.

Lying flat on his back, he smiled when he saw you step out of your pajama bottoms. Licked his bottom lip and beckoned you with two hands near his face.

You’d never sat on someone’s face before, and when you reached to turn the lights off, Joe said, “No. Leave ‘em on.” and seemed genuinely excited for what was about to happen. It was the first time you thought maybe you really were doing him a favour, instead of the other way around.

It was awkward having to bring your core to his mouth, especially since you were able to fucking see all of it. Usually, men would bring their mouths down all by themselves, wouldn’t need you to take any action. The second Joe got his mouth on you, however, no other action of you was needed besides keeping yourself upright.

Which was difficult.

You silently scolded yourself for earlier thoughts of wanting to skip today. This kind of turned everything around and you realized it was the perfect remedy. Joe curled arms around your legs and held on tightly as he worked his tongue in all sensitive spots he knew to find.

But then, about four minutes in, the sound of a key loudly being shoved into its keyhole made both you and Joe freeze.

Izzy.

You checked behind you and saw that, thank fuck, you’d closed your door before climbing onto the bed.

Frozen with fear, neither of your moved for a second, but you both listened. Heard how Izzy tried to be quiet, like she had texted she would do, heard her take off her shoes by the door before slipping into the living room. She shut the door behind her, and you let go of a breath you’d been holding.

“Fuck, okay,” you whispered as quietly as you could. “If you’re quick, she won’t– ah, mhm,”

What you meant was, if Joe was quick to leave, Izzy wouldn’t see him. Not, if he was quick to continue until you orgasmed, because you couldn’t! Not with Izzy in the house! Not from Joe’s mouth in your bedroom with Izzy on the other side of your bedroom wall!

“No, we can’t–”

But Joe was relentless, and your breathy pleas probably didn’t even reach his ears, what with your legs in the way and all. Joe held onto your thighs with newfound strength and continued with more frevour than before. Had you arching your back and slapping your own hands over your mouth to shut you up.

Shit.

You were scared the whole time. Every sense heightened and somehow therefore everything felt… even better. You didn’t like that. The combination of having Joe’s face between your legs, his tongue touching places it hadn’t even gone near before despite this being the fifth day of favours, and fear – legitimate fear, because what would happen if Izzy knew? – felt dangerous.

Somehow, you’d convinced yourself that your whole friendship and whatever else this was with Joe was held together by the fact that this was all a secret.

If your mutual friend, your best one and your flatmate at that, was to walk in with you sat on Joe’s face, it’d be over and done with. The favours would stop, which… were people able to grow attached to something in just five days, do you think? But you’d survive that. Had survived good sex leaving your life before and had always been fine. The whole friendship coming to a screeching halt, however?

It was the worst way to learn, the worst timing to learn, that even just entertaining the thought hurt your own feelings.

Maybe that was why things had never really progressed before. Joe had always been flirty with you. Slapped your ass when he saw the chance, things like that. Would graciously offer his lap whenever all seats would be taken. But until now, you’d always shoved him in return. Made him laugh, which then would make you laugh.

You were sat on Joe’s face, but you kind of wanted to sit on Joe’s lap for a few hours. The other way around so you could stare at his features. Lean in for a kiss if you wanted, one that would be reciprocated.

Have that be normal.

Be around your friends and give in to Joe’s stupid flirting and have all of that be normal.

Not that this seat was bad – it was just... the hem of your top covered half his face. You only got forehead, an eyebrow and tensed forearms when you looked down. Tensed forearms that hugged around your thighs and held you open from the front. You hadn’t even kissed Joe. Couldn’t even remember the last time you hugged.

You were swimming in complex emotions, all layered shit, good and bad and worse and better and the best but simultaneously also the absolutely worst. Your mind wasn’t with it, and it was taking long for you to get there. Was long for Joe to have his head in between your thighs.

You kind of wanted to cry, and you nearly did when Joe suddenly let a hand sneak up under your top to cup a boob.

Joe had never touched the bare flesh of your tits before. You gasped at the touch, but only because you couldn’t moan. Couldn’t be loud. The gasp made Joe sneak up his other hand as well, and it was a little awkward because the arms came up from behind you, but it worked.

Joe knew what he was doing. Got your out of your head and into your body by simple touches under your top and like fucking clockwork, you orgasmed. You bit your lips into your mouth until you swore your teeth broke the skin, stifling as much noise as you could.

Eventually, you flopped over. Fell into the mattress beside Joe, and heard him pant softly.

There was no way Izzy hadn’t heard, you thought.

When you turned your face to look at him, you hissed, “Oh my God, you look insane,” and sat up to use the fabric of the top you were still wearing to wipe at his face. Joe shook with silent laughter, but let you clean him up a little.

Bent over and leant close, skin of your torso bared from where you pulled on your top, Joe’s hand found your side. It almost didn’t touch you, hovered a little and let fingertips brush and you didn’t understand how this feather light touch wrecked you more than Joe’s tongue circling and dipping inside of you had done.

You slowly wiped at Joe’s face for longer than you needed to, let your eyes dance across Joe’s face as he stared up at you.

If you leant down right now, if you just...

You saw how Joe’s eyebrows quirked. Small little movement you wouldn’t have caught had you not been so close to him. Made your breath shudder. Made you think of how Joe didn’t push you away. Didn’t do anything but stare back up at you. Big, brown, shiny eyes. All soft and round.

You didn’t realise you’d slowly lowered down until you felt Joe’s nose touch the side of yours. He nudged you with it, away to the side a little, and you swore he was about to say something, but then you both suddenly heard movement about the flat and were thrown back into reality.

Izzy.

You pulled your top back down and avoided Joe’s eyes as you got up to tiptoe towards the door where you put your underwear back on, ears perked for any noise within the flat that would give away Izzy’s whereabouts. You noticed you still felt panicked, heart in your throat, back of your neck prickling, everything all awful and you remembered the whole day had been bad. This horrible end of it fit just right.

Because it was horrible, wasn’t it?

Your flatmate was about to find Joe in your bedroom.

That need to cry you’d felt when you’d left the office earlier that day reared its head back up.

You didn’t cry, wouldn’t cry. Not until you’d have snuck Joe out of the flat, at least.

Izzy couldn’t know.

If she knew, that would be the end of everything.

Joe hadn’t even kissed you.

A whisper of your name snapped you from your thoughts. Joe was still on your bed but was now getting out of his own clothes. Your eyes grew wider and your brow furrowed because what the fuck was he doing?

“I’ll wait her out,” Joe whispered, and in just a T-shirt and his boxers, he reached for the top of your duvet. “Wait ‘til she’s gone to sleep,”

And your mind raced for a second. Joe was probably right. To avoid your flatmate and any questions afterwards entirely, she’d have to be out cold.

But then you softly said, “You should leave,” because you wanted out of this situation.

Joe had already slipped himself into your bed, underneath the covers.

“I will, won’t be long. Izzy seemed tired,”

“I am tired,” you argued like a prissy teen. You were worried, and you felt cold. A little clammy. Grumpy, and scared still. Vulnerable and raw, and your throat hurt from the whispering and the moans you’d wheezed out.

“Come lay down,” Joe slung back covers to expose your side of your bed, and the thought of doing just that, laying down in your bed with Joe next to you, was making you feel sick. He seemed so cool and casual about it too. Like none of it really mattered.

“No, but, I–I don’t think– what if–”

“It’ll be fine,” Joe’s hushed voice reassured, and you sucked in a sharp breath that you then held. “Come,” Joe whispered again with a little more urgency, beckoning you with an impatient open hand. “Feels like you’re crashing, get into bed before you hurt yourself.”

Crashing?

“Aren’t you–” you started another whispered sentence but were cut off once more, now by Joe’s flat hand slapping down onto the mattrass in feigned frustration, eyes all wide but mouth so close to curling up into a smile.

“Come, here,” Joe ordered through clenched teeth and yea, all right. You could lay down in your bed. Your safe spot. Just, it didn’t feel so safe now that Joe was there.

When you moved into the bed and got comfortable, you felt a little like you were placing your body in a position you thought people looked best in. Like you weren’t a real person who just stepped into her own bed, but were on a film set and this is how they directed you to lay so that it looked best from all angles. You performed laying down. Stupid.

Had to remind yourself Joe was just Joe. That one guy amongst your friends who didn't impress you the way he impressed everyone else.

He was just Joe.

Unlike last week, where you felt it would be too close for comfort to curl onto your side facing Joe, it didn’t feel like there was such a thing as being too close anymore, and so that was exactly what you did now. Laid on your side, hands together and pressed under your head, facing Joe.

Joe did the same but stayed on his side of the bed, leaving plenty of space in between the two of you.

“Better?”

You shrugged with your exposed shoulder. Joe scanned your face for a second, searching eyes roaming freely and then he frowned a little.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t...” Joe trailed off.

“You didn’t,” you were quick to reply, but you felt a tear escape your eye. It was easy to hide, since it was the eye closest to the pillow, and you thought maybe Joe wouldn’t have seen. You felt how it wet the skin between your fingers before it disappeared into the fabric.

“No, but, you seem... not okay,”

You couldn’t look him in the eye and kept eyes trained on his chest. On one particular crease in the cotton of his shirt that was just there because his shoulder were pressed forward.

It looked soft. And inviting.

“I’m fine,”

And Joe would’ve let it go. Would’ve just said, okay good, and, don’t worry I’m not that sleepy. But then a sticky tear left your other eye that traveled over the bridge of your nose. It was impossible to miss, and Joe didn’t even give you time to try to wipe it away, to excuse it, to make something up on the spot of why it was even there, because he started scooching. Closer to the middle of the bed. And then an arm reached over and placed itself on your back and pulled you in, made you scooch until your face met that crease of fabric in the middle of Joe’s chest and a large palm around the back of your head kept it there.

“Sorry,” got whispered into your hair.

“It’s not you– you didn’t do anything wrong,”

“S’just a lot?”

“Mhmm,”

It was a lot. You'd had a bad day, and now Joe was cuddling you close, and the bed was warm and soft, and you had fingers in your hair, stroking down your scalp, playing with the strands.

“Sorry,” you spoke around an exhale and relaxed. “I will fall asleep if you keep doing that,”

You would. Felt yourself relax fully and sink deeper into everything soft.

“Good. Then I’ll keep going.”

That made your face scrunch up like you were in pain. Made your ribs want to flare and tighten up simultaneously. Made you blush harder than when Joe pulled you onto his face with your full weight.

Joe didn’t lie. Had to shift twice to make sure blood flow reached his fingers still, but kept his fingers in your hair. You used the first time he moved and switched arms to snuggle closer. To burrow deeper. Was easy to hide what you were doing - you were simply also readjusting a little. The second time, you tilted your head upwards enough for your nose to find the warmth of his skin just above the collar.

You fell asleep like that.

And, troublingly, you also woke up like that.

It was morning, and Joe was still there.

You moved, stretched yourself out of Joe’s hold which roused him awake. Rolling over, you found your phone to check the time.

“What time is it?” Joe croaked, burying his face back into the pillow.

“Just past 6,”

It was early still. Early enough for Joe to be able to sneak out without Izzy even being aware he’d ever been there.

You rolled onto your back after putting your phone back down and blinked at the ceiling for a moment. Found focus in your eyes and listened to Joe’s breathing.

God, your life was so weird. This week had been weird. And there were two days of favours left still.

Then what?

What would happen after?

You’d just go back to being the friends you were before?

You didn’t think you could do that, or even wanted to do that, but you couldn’t think like that. This was just a wild week, and on Monday, things would go back to normal.

Normalish.

You’d learn to slot back into that place where Joe made advances jokingly and you’d shake your head at the bad overdone moves he’d put on you.

No one would be the wiser.

“Izzy’s asleep,” you whispered, and you meant, time to leave. You turned your head to see Joe was also lying on his back with his eyes open. Except his weren’t studying the ceiling, his were on you.

“Do you think she will still be in half an hour?”

Um. Sure? She probably would be. It was the weekend, after all.

Without warning and before you could answer his question, Joe ducked entirely under the covers and moved across. Ate you out whilst you still had sleep in your eyes.

Saturday was a whole mess.

Joe’d snuck out, hadn’t been seen or heard by your flatmate and, good.

That was good.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about how that morning had been different. Halfway through he’d swapped his death grip around your legs for search of your hands. Joe was hidden under the covers and did everything a lot slower than he’d done any of the other times, and then found your hands with his and held your hands for a little while.

You managed to be quiet. Quieter, at least. But it was still fucking amazing, especially when Joe guided your hands to the back of his head and encouraged you to push his face into you. To add more pressure that way.

He’d come up and kissed you on the forehead after, and then he’d left you in the bed by yourself, all blissed out whilst he casually got dressed and walked out. Hadn’t even asked you to tell him that you’d won the bet.

Izzy witnessed you knock over a full cup of coffee, saw how it spilled over the counter and dripped down the kitchen cabinets as you swore and clumsily cleaned it up. You made yourself a new cup which you then let slip from your hands just when you were about to sit down on the sofa, and she’d gone, “Jesus, are you all right?”

You’d grumbled something under your breath and sighed at the coffee stain you’d left on the rug.

“What happened at work?”

Izzy referenced the text you’d sent her yesterday and linked your behaviour to it. You gave a vague explanation of why your managers sucked, and Izzy said to join her for lunch later. Good big lunch, maybe a few drinks. Would do you good. Have some fun.

“Or is Joe going to, I don’t know, make you organize his junk drawer or whatever?”

“Oh,” you thought a second. “Yea, maybe. But I could do that after lunch. Joe can wait.”

However, you didn’t end up going to lunch with Izzy.

Instead, you opted to do what you’d wanted to do the night before and sat in the bath for a few hours. Watched nostalgic films that made you cry salty tears into the bath water. Thought of how you wanted Joe to kiss you on the mouth and then tried to erase those thoughts by slipping fully under the water for as long as you could.

Izzy didn’t like how you isolated. Said you’d been weird all week.

You swiftly blamed it all on work, “It’s just hectic times and I need to not be around people for a little bit.”

Whilst covered in bubbles, you heard Izzy move about, doing laundry, vacuuming, cleaning shit up - all domestic chores she’d left for the weekend. And she was on the phone to someone. You swore you heard her mention your name, but you decided to assume it was nothing. Probably just a mention of you not going out for lunch with her, or a mention of you hogging the bathroom for hours. Whatever.

Saturday had felt messy, but Sunday was all right. You’d slept okay, didn’t feel so sluggish anymore and made Izzy breakfast because you were a good friend, and she was a good friend.

You pushed every thought of it being the last day of the week of favours to the back of your mind. Evaded the topic of your friends entirely in conversation with your flatmate for fear of mentioning Joe.

Sunday was all right.

It was all right until it wasn’t.

Joe texted.

“4, my place”

You didn’t like that tone.

“ok.”

You fullstopped him and kind of hoped Joe didn’t like your tone either. Sending a text like that helped you numb your feelings a little. Was good practice for later. A self-protection sort of thing.

When you were let into Joe’s flat, you expected it to go like it had gone before. You’d walk in, there’d be slow music playing, sheer curtains drawn, mood lightning on and Joe’d direct you towards the couch.

And there was a sort of calmer playlist going, but the place smelled of food, and Joe had greeted you all upbeat and chipper. Said, “I hope you’re hungry!” and you hated that you thought today maybe you’d get to return the favour before you thought of dinner.

You’d walked in on Joe in the middle of preparing a roast dinner. A roast dinner for two.

“What’s going on here?” you asked, shrugging off your coat and surprised by how much was happening in the kitchen. Pots, pans, the oven on, all these smells, plates and cutlery stacked and ready to be moved towards the table – there was a lot going.

You watched Joe pick up the lid of a pot and stir what was inside. He shrugged with his back turned.

“Wanted a good roast dinner and couldn’t make one just for myself,” Joe looked over his shoulder. “Thought for today’s favour you could have half the food and keep me company.”

You didn’t know if relief or disappointment took the overhand on this one. You forced it to be relief, smiled at Joe and said, “This smells fucking amazing,” but felt in your gut then that it was definitely disappointment.

Rationally, this was a clever move, because it kind of moved you back into the two of you just being friends. You had dinner together, talked about all sorts – how you wanted to kick the teeth in of that one bitch from administration, and then swiftly moved onto nicer things, like Joe’s next upcoming project. Not for a second was the bet mentioned. There were moments where you entirely forgot about it too. Joe was smart. Tomorrow was going to be easy now.

It’s just that... you didn’t want it to be easy.

You wanted to crash your entire face onto his, to collide with him. You didn’t, of course, you had dinner like two civilized people, two normal friends, who pretended they hadn’t just had the weirdest week of their lives together. Didn’t mean you didn’t sneak glances at Joe’s mouth, at those pink plush lips, all throughout the meal.

When the food was all gone and the dishes had been loaded into the washer, you declared you probably should get going. Told Joe Izzy had been worried.

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to come down next Friday,” Joe said, following you as you slung arms into your coat and made your way to his front door.

“Surprise, surprise,” you said all sarcastic, smiling. Made Joe huff a small laugh before his whole facial expression changed.

“Oh, and one other thing,”

You sorted the collar of your coat with both hands and turned back to find Joe much closer to you than you’d thought he’d be.

“You still haven’t said it,”

You stopped faffing with your coat, hands dropping down, and Joe stepped even closer.

“Oh my God,” you said softly, head tilting in defeat, amused but surprised Joe was still going on about this.

“Say you won the bet,”

You squeezed your eyes shut and frowned, were about to tell Joe that he was being ridiculous and why was it still even important now? You’d ticked off the last favour. It was over now! Was his ego that precious that he still needed to hear from you that he was right?

But Joe was quicker than your words were, and in the moment of your eyes being closed, Joe brought a hand to the back of your neck. Made you snap open your eyes instantly.

Joe was close.

Nose to nose now.

Made your whole body freeze.

“Why can’t you say it?” he whispered, practically into your mouth, and you didn’t know what to do.

“I don’t–” you couldn’t even finish the sentence you started, both because you weren’t sure of what to say, but also because your throat closed up the second Joe tilted his head and moved his mouth towards your jaw.

Placed a soft chaste kiss there.

Made you close your eyes and shudder on an exhale. Made you let Joe move your head to the side as his moved down, getting your neck next.

It wasn’t the desperate collision you’d wanted before, and it’s not on your mouth either, but you were standing in Joe’s hallway about to step out and Joe wanted you to say words he wanted to hear and was coaxing them from you by letting his lips softly brush against skin they had never brushed against before.

Made you weak in the knees.

“Hmh? Just say it, say you won,”

You had your eyes closed, but your lips were parted. The grip Joe had on the base of your skull firmed, and he moved you to the other side. Got your neck there. Jaw too.

You swallowed thickly when you felt Joe move back a little. Blinked open unfocussed eyes and fuck, you were going to need a minute.

“Say it,”

Joe tilted his head down, let your foreheads meet and this was more than it had been all week. More intimate. More romantic. More of what you’d actually wanted. Joe always got so close, but Joe never kissed you.

“Say it for me,”

“I won,”

The words slipped out of you without you even registering it properly. A brief moment followed in which time sort of stopped, just for a second. You heard no one breaths, heard no blood rushing in your ears, heard no exactor fan still going in the kitchen.

Joe grinned.

You fucking said it.

He let his other hand find your face to cup and moved in to do what he’d been wanting to do all along, but hadn’t felt was appropriate.

Joe moved in and kissed you on the mouth. Got your bottom lip between his and let it be all soft, all slow.

Too slow.

Far too slow.

Time caught up and so did your brain. Then, your body did too, and where before your arms had just been down by your sides, you let them find Joe’s shoulders. Then his neck, and you used it to pull Joe in closer. Made him collide with you.

You were kissing Joe on the mouth and, Jesus, you wanted more. Deeper. Harder. Wanted to lick past his lips and live inside all of that wet and warm. You felt how Joe was trying to suppress a smile – felt that with your mouth, my God – and felt how he was about to pull back.

“No, I won, I won I won,” you panted all desperate, using forceful hands on his head to keep him attached to your face. “I won the bet, I said it. I won.”

Just for a moment, Joe just... went with it. Let you jump up and curl your legs around his torso. Had laughter stuck in his throat but loved how you gripped, and clung, and built the kiss until it became a brutal devouring mess and... shit, he needed more.

Joe started moving, used his hands to get you back out of your coat that you easily let slip off of you, one arm at a time, mouths still hungry, practically eating each other.

Joe turned back into his flat.

Then towards the bedroom.

When you realised where Joe was trying to take you, you were quick to unlatch from him. Let your feet touch the floor again.

You were kissing Joe and he was guiding you towards the bedroom.

What was happening?

“Come on,” Joe said, got his mouth back onto yours and tried lifting you up again. “I still owe you good head.”

“What, but I... the favour was having dinner with you, I–” Joe cut you off with a kiss to your neck, the pressure of it almost violent. Made you moan instantly and go all slack. Slack enough for Joe to get you back into his arms again, both of his curled tightly around your waist.

“Didn’t you just say you won?”

And, oh.

Yes.

Yes you did.

There were no favours if that was the case. Just... just good head. Like you had gotten all week, because...you’d won the fucking bet.

Even if you had pretended all week that you hadn’t.

You’d won.

“Don’t worry,” Joe panted and used an elbow to open his bedroom door. “I won too.”

You couldn’t fucking believe it. Joe grinned at you and you grinned right back before crashing into him for a kiss once more.

There were only winners here.

Joe carried you into the bedroom and you couldn’t help but giggle into his mouth as he lurched you onto the bed before using a foot to kick the door shut.

You’d won, and Joe’d won, double or nothing had turned into everything, and there were only winners.

the end

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @frootvelvet @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @babybluebex @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @harringtonfan4 @emma77645 @tlclick73 @eddies-puppet @electricmunson @everythinghasafacee @a-time-for-wolvess @lucifers-side @barfightzanddiscolightz

(taglist currently full, sorry!)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #18+#double or nothing #part 5

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callsigncrash · 9 months

Text

Various Characters and if they’d take you to see Barbie or Oppenheimer

Note: No spoilers below!

________________________________________________

Homelander

“They offered me the role of Ken but I turned it down.”

Will take you to see both, but it’ll be a private showing if it’s not a premier.

If you want to meet any of the cast or want something from one of the movies, he’ll get it for you.

Get him the “I’m Kenough” sweatshirt.

“Hi, Barbie!” him or make the “My first product was released in Japan” joke.

It hurts his eyes a bit but he’ll entertain you and sit in the front row at Oppenheimer.

He actually has a good time.

Your happy energy and the carefree vibe that goes with the hype of the movies keeps him calm even when getting annoyed and it lets him relax.

Black Noir

Did you really think he wouldn’t want to see Barbie?

He wanted to see it before you even said anything!

He can also help you get things from the movie or meet the cast.

He can get a private showing, take you to the premier, whatever plan you have is cool with him.

His “friends” are also very excited!

He may or may not have a “driving to the movie” playlist ready.

Holds your hand during the whole movie.

Naki

He’ll try and be “macho” and say Oppenheimer but he just wants to see Barbie.

He’ll dress up if you want him to.

Will do those little magazine tests to see which Barbie character he is.

Is another one who will wear a “I’m Kenough” hoodie.

Is utterly confused about the corvette bucket and ends up getting the tin bucket with Margot on it.

Leans on you during the movie and maybe holds your hand.

Hums the Ken solo for days afterwards.

Ben

He is a full on himbo Ken who is very excited to see Barbie!

He wears a pink polo and Barbie crocs to the movie.

Please wear something Barbie themed to match with him. It would mean the world to him.

Will ask you if you want to get the Barbie corvette popcorn bucket because he also wants one.

He’s smiley already but he’s even more so when you sit down to watch the movie.

Will want to talk about the movie afterwards.

Might go see it again just because.

Abed

You’d discussed this over a year ago and had a plan ready to see both movies on the same day.

Dressing up is mandatory but there might be a tiff about who gets to be which character.

He absolutely commits to whichever character he chooses.

“This Ken is a movie buff”.

Troy definitely joins y’all.

Be prepared for back and forth inside jokes and references to the movie with the both of them for weeks.

Another one who may go see both movies again.

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jungkookslipring · 10 months

Text

The Perfect Day

Summary: everything goes your way and your day ends in the best way possible. That’s it. That’s the tweet. Enjoy!😁

Pairings: Mingi x Reader (w/ the rest of the boys towards the end)

Relationship: romantic 💘

Warning: swearing lol

You asked the universe countless times how you were blessed with the best boyfriend in the entire world. Your morning started off with a bouquet of flowers being dropped off at your front door, with a little card attached to it.

“Morning loves, treat yourself to a coffee this morning! I know you work at Starbucks but still! Love you!”

You opened up the card a little more and there was $10 attached to it. You were allowed one free coffee at your work, and some days you needed more than one so the simple gesture was enough for you to be energized for the day. You smelt the lovely flowers and put them in a vase. You went about your morning routine, picking out an outfit you didn’t mind smelling like coffee, and making yourself a quick breakfast before walking out the door. When you got to your car there was another note.

‘Fuck, did I park in someone else’s spot?’ You thought to yourself, double checking the parking spot number. You were in your own spot thank god but what was the note? You opened it up and started reading.

“Took your car to wash up and fill up the tank! Also took out the garbage! Love you!”

At what point and time did this man have the time to sneak into your apartment, take your keys, and make your car all pretty?? You smiled to yourself. He was a sneaky man. You got in your car, and he must’ve added a new air freshener somewhere cause it smelt like forest pine instead of coffee. When you got to work you were shocked at how slow it was. It ended up being a really slow day in general! You had one rush hour but the rush was 4 cars long and everyone wanted a refresher! No coffee! And they tipped well!! You spent most of your time doing inventory and restocking/refilling in the back. You had your playlist on shuffle and every favorite song of yours played one after the other. After 4 hours of puttering around your supervisor let you know you could go home early, and still be paid for the amount of hours you were supposed to work. It was too good to be true. When you clocked out there was yet ANOTHER note on your car. This mf.

“Hope you had a good shift! Wanted to come in but didn’t wanna interrupt your work flow! Talk to you later!”

You smiled and put the note in your purse. When you got home and walked into your bedroom, this FUCKING MAN left a note, a pair of earrings, a dress and a pair of shoes on your bed. You looked at the note and it read,

“I’ll pick you up at 6”

WHAT. THE. HELL. You loved loved loved spontaneous dates, but with their most recent comeback it’s been so hard to spend quality time together. You’d stay at their dorm and be fast asleep by the time they’d be home from music shows. It didn’t take too long to get ready, and by the time 5:59 hit, you heard the lock twist. You turned around when you were putting in the final earring. Mingi has stars in his eyes.

“Wow, wow wow wow,” he said, looking you up and down. You giggled, all of a sudden being super shy. He noticed immediately.

“Aww don’t get all shy on me kitten, look at you!” He said getting behind you, holding your shoulders and pointing you towards the mirror. He kissed your head as he ran his hands up and down your arms. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek.

“You ready?” He asked, kissing you one more time. You nodded as you returned the kiss. You took your hand and guided you toward the door. He opened the door for you and followed closely behind. When you got in the car he drove you to your favorite restaurant. He helped you out of the car before heading for the doors. The hostess lead you both to the rooftop, and when you opened the door you gasped. You were genuinely shocked at how beautiful the rooftop was, but you were even more shocked at the petals leading up to the small table in the middle, with fairy lights swirling around the table and chairs. When you two sat down they brought you complimentary champagne, and not even a minute later, the food you always order was put right in front of you.

“Mingi, this is amazing,” you say with so much awe. Today was a perfect day. He asked how your day was, and you filled him in on his lovely notes, and how work was easy, and everything was just going right. He then filled you in on his day given this was one of his days off. You talked and laughed and enjoyed the gorgeous night. The sun was finally setting and it eliminated the sky with oranges and pinks. You were a WHORE for sunset pics so you got up from your seat to go take a pic over the railing you didn’t hear Mingi behind you until you turned around and this tall ass mf was all of a sudden shorter than you. You threw a hand over your mouth as your eyes pretty much bulged out of your head. Mingi’s eyes twinkled. Was he about to cry?

“Mingi…” you whisper, not even knowing what to say. He gently grabbed your hand and kissed it.

“Y/N…my love…my whole w-world…” he choked before pulling the ring out from his back pocket.

“Will you marry me?” He asked with so much hope in his voice. You nodded rapidly and before letting out a

“Of course I will.” He slid the ring on your finger before you bent down, cupping his face and giving him the biggest smooch of his life. Not a split second later 7 other crack beads busted through the door, screaming their lungs out. You looked up and saw Wooyoung Naruto running towards you, the other guys hot on his heels. He swooped you up as everyone cheered, smacking Mingi on the back. Wooyoung spun you around as you laughed to your heart’s content. Everyone admired the ring and gave you so many hugs, congratulating you both. Hongjoong showed off the pics he was taking secretly behind the window and everyone made fun of Yunho and Seonghwa for getting teary. Your best friends were your biggest support, and now you’ll get to be Y/N Song for the rest of your life.

#ateez #ateez x atiny #ateez x reader #mingi fluff #mingi fanfic #mingi x reader #atz mingi #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #ateez san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #kpop fluff #kpop x reader

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jakeyt · 4 months

Text

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great.

Was.

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home.

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; jealousy; negative self-talk; talks of miscarriage and hysterical pregnancy; allusions to childhood abuse; talks of pregnancy; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; therapy; talks of grieving a baby; pregnancy hormones (just the beginning lol); reader checking Jake out and being sad while she does it (lmao) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 22.1k+

a/n: sorry it took a month, besties... hopefully this angsty fucking chapter makes up for it lmao <3

and don't worry, i won't be gone long ;)

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

“The covetous person is full of fear; and he or she will who lives in fear will ever be a slave.”

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 30, 2022

Birds were chirping. The melodies of an acoustic guitar playing lullabies made your heart warm in your chest. A baby’s cries were being mellowed by the sound of the guitar. A smile, reaching the baby’s face that matched the one on the man playing the strings.

But you couldn’t look at him. Only the bundle of pure, unadulterated, untouched love in your arms; her eyes, looking the same as his, caught yours, the color of caramel coffee. . . twinkling just like his. . .

All pink and white and golden rays of sunshine.

Then, it was gone.

No. Not again.

There was no more peace. No more lullabies. No more love from parent to child. . .

All dark and dirty and ear-piercing screams.

A sister, trying to cover your eyes from what was happening, just inches in front of you.

Then there were hands. Hands gripping at your arms, the sister screeching, yelling and clawing for you as she got ripped away. As you got picked up so harshly your head hit something hard, making you dizzy. . .

When you closed your eyes from the dizziness, you opened them afterwards to see that your sister was back. But she was older this time.

Elsie. She was stunningly beautiful, as you knew she would grow up to be. Put together in an outfit that resembled that of Rachel Green. Her hair, flowing in strawberry blonde, soft waves around her delicate features and her blue eyes were wide open and wondering. Searching your eyes for something hidden in them. . .

What was she wanting? You couldn’t tell . . . Just as you were about to speak to ask her, she was in front of you, nudging you, not nearly as abrasively as the hands from before.

You studied her quizzically – why was she–?

“Wake up!”

And the next time you blinked, your eyes were opened wide.

To reality. To Elsie, shaking your arm in the present. You were an adult, she was an adult. Things were okay.

Life was safe again.

Shit. I’m so tired of that fucking dream, you thought angrily, sitting up and letting the covers fall away from your sweaty, tensed body.

Blinking furiously, you let yourself cling to the softness— the safety of your bed. The bed hugged you, cocooned you in the fluffy down comforter. You were in your clean, quiet apartment. . . the rays peeking through your bedroom windows the same as they’d been at the beginning of your dream.

“Sis,” Elsie said your name, out of all of her patience. “Come the fuck on. I’m hungry and I need coffee so bad. You know me. You know I’m about to lose all ability in my limbs if I don’t have caffeine stat–I need it. To survive,” she clutched her chest dramatically. “Please. Get your lazy ass up.”

You rolled your eyes with a giant huff, throwing your covers off of you to try and hit her with them. When you heard her gasp and slap at the covers, you figured you succeeded.

“Y/n!” She said, backing up from the bed. When you saw her next, her hair was sticking up on all sides from static. Success. But she was laughing, finding it funny nonetheless. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Takes one to know one,” you said, sitting up to stretch a little. You had to fight the urge to put a hand to your tummy. Not in front of Elsie. “Now leave, I have to change.”

“I’ve seen you naked a million times before,” she argued. “Nothing I haven’t seen already.”

There sure as hell is something you haven’t seen on me already. . . Albeit a little small, but rounder nonetheless.

“Well I don’t want you to look at my naked body this morning, so get the fuck out.”

You were getting irritated. Just wanted to change in peace. Wanted to hold your belly to start the day. It was routine at this point.

She growled, opening your door. “You have five minutes, or I’m leaving your ass.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

As you pulled up to Waffle House, scream-singing Ariana Grande lyrics with Elsie at the top of your lungs, you were sincerely hoping that your stomach wouldn’t roll at the smell of the greasy breakfast food.

The nostalgia of the morning was something you wanted to wrap up tight and not let flutter away in the crisp and cool October breeze.

Please, sweet baby, you pleaded. Love Waffle House with me. Don’t make me give this up.

You wanted this with Els. This particular establishment had been cathartic to you and your sister for several years. Talks that far surpassed therapy sessions occurred here, in the back booth, almost completely surrounded by windows. . . The thought of sitting in that back booth was enough to make you cry right on the spot.

And the All Star Special sounded so fucking delicious. Good sign that it at least still sounded good, right?

You just wanted scrambled eggs, ham, hash browns with ketchup, and a gigantic waffle with the restaurant name pressed in the middle. It was all you wanted at that moment. Truly. Nothing more, nothing less. . . Your mouth was watering.

Cheesy and strange as it was, you were quite literally crossing your fingers that the food wouldn’t make you projectile vomit as Elsie opened the door for you two.

Please don’t make me sick, please don’t make me sick. . .

To your extreme relief, your tummy didn’t knot and squeeze. No bile came to the base of your throat. . . In fact, the vanilla waffle mixture, the sizzling, salty smell of the bacon and ham. . . it was better than before. Your heightened senses welcomed the scrumptious, sentimental scents that came with the establishment.

And the back booth was open!

Tears literally pricked your eyes at the sight. And you must’ve sniffled because Elsie spun around, where you waited to be seated, and checked on you with worried eyes.

“You okay?” She pondered, her tone light with a joke, but eyes still serious.

Not able to fully collect yourself thanks to the fantastic hormonal effects of your pregnancy, you felt a tear hit your cheek when you sniffled once more.

“Yeah,” goddamn, even your voice sounded fucking wet with emotion. “Just happy to be here with you.”

Tell her, y/n. Let her help you. . .Tell her.

Fuck that came out of nowhere.

The soft, reassuring voice being the one to guide you would take a lot of getting used to if it was going to continue as the one to help you, rather than the harsh, critical one that’d taunted you since you were a child.

Honestly, when the calm voice came to you, your mind settled in the waves of reassurance. This was the voice you longed to hear anytime the dark one wanted to boss you around. . .wanted to push you down when you were up.

It always spoke soft truths to you. This voice didn’t make you feel like utter shit; this was the one that sounded more like Elsie than you’d like to admit.

As you started walking to your beloved booth, you were trying to find a solid reason to not tell Elsie right now. . . You had to tell someone. Right? And it was killing you to be around her and keep her in the dark. She was safe. And, at that moment, the only person you really wanted to tell was your big sister. No matter how bossy she may get, it was worth it to have her know. She was your one and only safety net for years for good reason.

And she was going to be leaving again tonight until Thanksgiving. There was no way you could wait to tell her until then.

She’d also never forgive you if you kept it from her for too long. You couldn’t blame her. If roles were reversed, you’d kill her if she waited to tell you until she had a noticeably round belly. . .

You sat down at your booth. You, at the seat with your back to the big windows, her smile wide as she made small talk with the worn-out waitress. Elsie’s smile, though, was big enough it brought a smile to the tired woman’s face. Elsie got along with everybody, and the waitress was no different.

God, she was sunshine for you.

As the woman placed your menus down in front of you two, you immediately flipped it to the side with the All Star Special. You watched her kind face, aged from years of hard work, and found comfort in the thickness of her voice from even more years of smoke, as she asked for your drink orders.

Elsie ordered her blessed coffee and you sat there, contemplating. . . stuck. Normally, you’d order a Mr. Pibb. . .but was that healthy for the baby?

Your sister stared at you, her brows wrinkled as she gave you a questioning smile.

“Just get her a Mr. Pi–,” Elsie started.

“I’ll take an orange juice,” you finished.

The sweet waitress left to get your orders ready, and when you looked up from your menu to Elsie’s face again, she was looking at you like you’d grown three heads.

“Orange juice?!” She asked, as if you’d just insulted her on a great scale. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

You felt nervous under her stare and questions. You were going to tell her anyway. . . why were you feeling your skin prick with nerves?

“Just felt like getting an orange juice. . .,” you said, shrugging your shoulders to play it off. “No biggie.”

“I cannot remember one time we’ve come here– in the years we’ve come here– where you’ve gotten anything besides a Mr. Pibb.” She leaned across the table to put the back of her hand to your forehead. She then jokingly asked, “Are you well?”

You watched her laugh at her own joke, her eyes, smiling. The same ones you’d looked into when, for years, you’d told her your deepest secrets. . . A couple of things came to your mind. When you lost your virginity and felt like shit about it (for God knows what reason); she’d raised your spirits by telling you she’d felt the same at first, but it got better with time. Then there’d been when you’d smoked weed for the first time and you felt so horribly about it (again, why?); she told you it was not a bad thing to do and that you deserved to feel so free as the drug would make you feel.

Very rarely had she been extremely judgemental.

Right now, she was giving you yet another look of concern, though. . .So, you decided. It was time. Now or never.

“Sis, what’s–?”

“I’m pregnant.”

There it was. First time you’d said it out loud. Damn. In that moment, it felt even more real to you, too.

You were with child. There was a baby in you. There was life growing inside of your uterus.

Then the opposite train of thought rushed through you. . .were you pregnant? Was the baby still in there? You hadn’t really had time to obsessive-compulsively research any of that yet. Could your tummy still grow if you had a miscarriage? Was that possible? Was there a baby inside of you?

You had to shake your head from your sudden wave of unwelcome, anxious thoughts. There was no reason to believe you’d lost the baby. . . right? Surely. . . You wouldn’t let your anxiety get the best of you. Blinking a few times, you chanced a look at your sister again.

She gaped at you, staying that way until the waitress came back with your drinks, not saying a word. Didn’t even look away from you when the waitress spoke, asking for your orders. You had to tell the woman it would be a minute, while Elsie still zoned out on you.

Her eyes just bored into yours until you started feeling uncomfortable and irritable.

Talk, Elsie. Fuck.

You clasped your hands together under the table, over your tummy. . .had to do something with them. And after continuing to wait a couple more minutes, you decided if she wasn’t going to say anything, you would. “Can you say some–?”

“What the fuck?” She asked, voice much louder than it should be for a quiet Sunday morning at Waffle House.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the heads of patrons turn towards you. Inquiring eyes were not what you needed at the moment.

Your cheeks heated as you grit your teeth. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Elsie?” You fumed, automatically defensive for the life inside of you. “I had sex. I got pregnant. Simple as that.”

You’d never felt this sense of protection for anyone in your life. Not even your sister. No, at that moment, you were ready to go to bat for your baby against the woman who’d been your first line of defense your entire life.

Thankfully the next time she talked, she sounded more subdued and understanding.

“I– I didn’t mean for it to come off that way, babe,” she said, shaking her head, laying a hand against her forehead. Her eyes searched for yours to believe her. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the right response.”

“It’s oka–.”

“This is a sensitive time for you–for any woman–my god,” she continued, not letting you make any excuse. “I was just in shock–still am, obviously–but I’m not upset,” she said, pausing. Then she narrowed her eyes, testing you. “How far along are you though?”

You giggled, remembering your earlier thoughts. The two of you were so alike. More like twins than anything, honestly. “I’m only like ten weeks, I think,” you smoothly said. “I found out two weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to keep it or not, and I didn’t want to tell anyone until I decided. It was my decision and I didn’t want anything or anyone to sway me.”

“That is all valid and correct,” she agreed, nodding her head. Then, she continued asking questions as she poured too much half and half in her coffee. “How do you feel about it? Good? Bad? Sad? Happy? Overjoyed? Utterly depressed?”

Your eyes bugged, and you waved your hands at her once she was drinking from her mug, watching you and waiting for a response. “Damn, slow down,” you began, entwining your hands again, on top of the table this time. “First of all, per usual, I don’t always know how I’m feeling. . . But–it’s strange,” you started, squinting out the window just next to her. “It’s like, this time, instead of bouncing back and forth between sad and mad and confused. . .I’m more bouncing between a variety of happy emotions for this life,” you untangled your hands to once again place them on your tummy, below the table. “The confusion is still there, but for this baby. . .the emotions are mostly positive ones full of hope and love,” you looked back at her. “It’s weird.”

She was squinting at you, nodding her head as she took everything in.

Then the waitress was back, taking your orders. And just as soon, she was gone.

Elsie spoke before you could. “What changed?”

Snorting, you gave her a look. “Really, Els?”

Yet again, she narrowed her eyes, but this time it was out of annoyance. “You know what I mean.”

You did. She wanted to get to the heart of it. Not the situation. But what had changed inside of you to instigate your new, surprising view of things? You really weren’t sure . . . To be completely honest, this new feeling had just started yesterday. Less than 24 hours ago, you’d made the decision that would change your life forever.

But, you answered the best you could in spite of it all.

“I don’t know,” you glanced down at your hands, holding your sweater-clad tummy. You hadn’t had to delve into oversized sweaters the past couple of weeks. Not quite yet. Your tummy wasn’t that round. “I just kind of started thinking on behalf of this life I made, and not really myself. I put him, her–whatever the fuck it is– first and doing that just gave me this new outlook. Like I didn’t have all of the time in the world to criticize myself anymore. Because I have someone else to look out for. Someone special–someone whose life I have to be careful with– a life I hold in my hands.”

She giggled. “Literally,” she motioned in the direction of your hand placement. You joined in on her little moment of humor, enjoying the feeling of normalcy with her. She knew, and things were still the same as always. You didn’t feel any weirdness emanating off of her. This moment was easing you and brought you a sense of undefinable calm. Something you’d needed so badly. She kept on, having more to say. “I’m so fucking glad you’re starting to feel lighter,” she stated, reaching a hand out towards you, palm up on the table. “You’ve always carried so much on your shoulders. Always. And it has sucked to watch helplessly. You have hurt for too damn long and you deserve more than anyone to feel this new happiness.”

The tear that suddenly gathered at the corner of your eye and trickled down your cheek was unstoppable.

You moved a hand to place in hers and you squeezed each other. “Thanks Els,” you wetly responded. And nothing more– just needed her to know you were thankful.

After a minute of just communicating with your eyes, your food was being brought in small increments. Her biscuits and gravy were placed at the same time as your plate of eggs, hash browns, and ham.

“Your waffle will be out shortly, honey,” the waitress smokily said, tone sweet as could be. “You two enjoy.”

After you’d both responded with a nod and she was gone, there was no stopping you two from digging in.

After swallowing her first bite of food with a moan, she looked at you, still chewing your hash browns, which now tasted more like the sugary, tomatoey ketchup you’d smothered them with.

“God, I was starving,” she said, taking a little sip of her half and half with a dash of coffee. She squeaked a little as she set her coffee down, a smirk on her glossed lips. “Josh would not quit last night.”

You made a gagging motion at the implication, your brow furrowed with disgust at her words.

Then, you took your first sip of orange juice.

Goddamn.

Fuck! Ew. Baby does not like orange juice.

Coughing a little, your throat felt ready to reject the liquid right as it hit your uvula. Gross as it was, you put as much as you could back into the glass, not caring for Elsie’s reaction.

“That’s not nasty at all,” she sarcastically noted, still chewing her food.

You kept coughing into your hand, swallowing as much as you could, focusing on getting it down, not wanting to projectile vomit all over your breakfast.

I’ll show you nasty, Elsie. Don’t test me.

You rolled your eyes at her remark, finally getting the remains of the drink down. You held your napkin to your face, coughing a bit. “Says the woman who’s talking and chewing,” you said, your voice weak to avoid any bile rising in your throat and at the sour, putrid taste still sitting on your tongue. “And you’re one to talk–telling me way more than I need to know about Josh.”

She snickered. “I’ll tell you more. Just say the word.”

Laughing once outright, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, that won’t ever be happening,” you tried taking a bite of hash browns to get the taste of orange juice off your tongue. But it only made it worse. Your throat was not ready to accept any more at the moment. Spitting the mushy remains in your napkin, folding it up so as not to offend other customers. Your throat was tight as you responded. “I need water.”

“Here we go, babydoll! Waffles just for you,” the waitress returned, placing the food right in front of you. The waffle did not look appetizing in the slightest. You didn’t bother looking up to say anything, instead squeezing your eyes shut and willing the nausea away. “You okay, sweetie? D’ya need anything?”

“Can we get a water and a Sprite?” Elsie intervened, calmly requesting. “And like, ASAP, if that’s doable. . .”

“Sure thing! Back in a flash!”

You kept your eyes closed, the twirling in your stomach not going away, but not intensifying either. You were scared to talk–afraid of what might come from your mouth if you did.

“Here,” the sweet, older lady’s voice rang through, as you heard the plastic cups hit the table. She was rushing, her voice moving fast. “Gotta go to another table, but wave me down if ya need me, sugar.”

“I think we’re good for now,” Elsie reassured. You could hear the smile in her tone. “Thank you so much.” A few seconds passed, then your sister was tapping your hand that was still laid on the table. “Sis, please take a drink from one of them.”

Keeping one hand pressed to your mouth, you tapped the wrapper off of the straw. You chose the carbonated Sprite, banking on the carbonation and natural aid of Sprite for a sensitive stomach.

As soon as the ice cold, fizzing drink hit your tongue, you felt relief. The feeling hadn’t gone away in your tummy, but you also didn’t feel like you were going to hurl at any moment anymore either. You took a few short, yet healthy, sips, eyes closing again to center yourself.

Your eyes trailed back to hers after you sat the cup down.

“You okay?” Elsie questioned, following you with her blue eyes, which swam with concern. You nodded, then she talked again. “Do you get sick a lot?”

Reaching for the water, you took one little drink of that, finally feeling able to talk. Your stomach was simmering slowly. You pushed the plates away, needing the food away from you for the time being.

“Not hungry?”

You shook your head, your brows furrowed. “Not now. Fuckin’ orange juice,” you flipped off the offensively orange drink. Elsie snorted at you, and you grinned at her. “And to answer you, yes. I puke all of the time. Thought it was stress at first. Just throwing up because of all of my stress.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing her own food away. “You’re an idiot.” You scoffed at that, offended. “I’m just saying. You’ve never been a puker. Fevers and shit, yes. But never thrown up a whole lot. And you’ve had some terrible fucking stress in your life. . . never vomiting from any of it; just to remind you.”

“I guess I just wanted to stay ignorant,” you admitted. “And I didn’t think it was possible at all that I was pregnant.”

She hummed in understanding, then she leveled you with a stare as she took a drink of her coffee.

“What now?” You groaned. “You fuckin’ weas–.”

“Does Jake know?”

Your stomach fell all the way to the bottom your feet. Fuck. What? How did she know?

Stupidly, you tried to reject it. Why would you try to hide it from her? You didn’t know. There was no point in trying to hide it.

“Why would he need to know? This doesn’t concern him. He’s not the fath—.”

She practically honked with a huge laugh, blossoming from the back of her throat. You blushed, sinking back into your seat. Why would you even try to play dumb? You knew better than to do that with her.

After wiping a little tear from below her eye, she sipped at her water. Sitting her glass down, she coughed a couple times and snorted with another giggle before continuing. “Please do not insult my intelligence like that.”

Weakly, you tried to defend yourself. “You believed me at the festival that we weren’t fucking anymore, so I just assumed–.”

“You think I believed that shit?!” She gawked at you– in disbelief that you’d thought that of her. “I just wasn’t going to push it out of you while you were so obviously in the depths of sorrow over that girl that was with him.”

Face flushing yet again, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. “‘Depths of sorrow’ is dramatic.” And true, you silently agreed with her. So incredibly, stupidly true.

“And you’re pregnant with Jake’s kid,” she pushed, wanting to hear you say it yourself.

You looked up at her through your lashes, not ready to say it out loud. But definitely needing to. . . and who better than your sister to say it out loud to for the very first time?

“Jake is the baby’s father, yes,” you said plainly, looking directly in her eyes as you said it. Then, immediately peering out the window, directly to your right. “Half him, half me,” you murmured, under your breath.

You pressed your shoulder, clad in your fluffy sweater, against the chilled glass. You still felt the coldness from the brisk autumn day through the thick windows. It calmed your heart which beat frantically against your breastbone. Talking out loud about Jake being the father of your child made reality slap you in the face. You were carrying Jake’s baby. Inside your womb was half of Jake and half of you. Together. Something you’d made. . . together.

The thought of a part of him just floating around in your uterus was honestly jarring. . . but not unwelcome. Not unwelcome at all. No, in fact because the baby was half of him, you’d decided you had to keep it. Jake was the reason that the baby was a necessity to this world. A piece of the first man you’d ever. . .

You shook your head amidst the raging thoughts, deciding to cut them off right. there. That was a path you did not want to venture down.

Dangerous territory.

Knowing the baby was his and that fact being was the sole reason you had to keep it. . .that was big enough for you to acknowledge. Huge, actually. . . You couldn’t believe you’d let yourself face that so surely and honestly. But. . . that was something you refused to tell your sister. That was one thing for you and only you to know. It felt too personal to share–belonged in your heart alone.

The mother and child you were observing just outside Waffle House were about to get you lost in thought again . . . You could spend hours appreciating a true, authentic love between a mother and her child. You’d never had it, and it was just so unique in and of itself. A relationship that held its own definition of love. A love so lovely, precious, safe. . . wholesome.

You were desperate to create that for a child. Something you hadn’t had the privilege of experiencing. And the baby in your womb deserved to feel it. . . But could you do it? Or were you too much like your mom?

Before you could fall down that depressing rabbit hole, you slowly swiveled your head back in the direction of your sister.

Then, without much contemplation, you unloaded. Told her everything. Informed her of the situation between you and Jake, how you started feeling iffy about all of it towards the end, and then how you’d decided to cut it off due to your desire to protect him. It rushed out of your mouth, with almost no thought and you honestly didn’t have time to consider anything before it slipped from your lips and into the air between the two of you.

Elsie was watching you, eyes attentively following your every word and movement. She looked ready to help. As always. Her eyes, the color of the ocean and just as deep and sure as the waves that enveloped it. The overwhelming calm you felt after telling her, also similar to the ocean in its ability to offer peace. . .

What she said first was not what you were expecting. No counsel. Just humility.

“I’m sorry for what I said about you watching that girl with Jake at the festival,” she started, tucking her hands in her lap, expression sincere. “That was callous. Not the time.”

Wrinkling your brow, you argued back, unnecessarily defensive and overwrought with emotion after spilling all of that and for the life in your belly (lovely hormones). “I’m still me, Elsie,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

She raised a brow, combatting you. “Fine. If you’re still you, then I can say this: get the fuck over yourself and just be with him,” taking a drink of her coffee, she made a face. “Room temperature coffee is absolute balls,” she looked over her shoulder, trying to connect eyes with the waitress.

You saw the woman head your way, and immediately got the hint when Elsie held the cup out with puppy dog eyes. “You’ve got it, sweet baby.”

“Thank you,” Elsie said, her voice that of a grateful servant to the woman.

“You, with your food and drinks that must be so hot they burn your mout–.”

“We’re not done with you. So, shut up.”

“Jesus, Elsie! I–.”

Holding a perfectly manicured hand up, black nails flashing in front of you briefly, she cut you off. “No! I don’t want to hear any more of the bullshit. You’re literally having his baby. Get over this. . . thing in your head, and just be with him. You obviously want it. And I think he does, too.”

You sighed, the breath coming fully from your lungs. It wasn’t like you didn’t want it, too. . . it was just complicated. “It’s not that easy, Elsie,” you lamented. “There are several pieces to the puzzle.”

“Liiiiike . . .?”

“Well, for one,” you held up a finger to start the count. “He has a girlfriend now.”

“No he doesn’t,” she scrunched her face, completely disagreeing. “He’s not with any–.”

“They showed up to the party together, Elsie. The girl from the festival. And they have a past. He was groping her all night last night and she never left his side,” you repeated the events aloud, your stomach rolling at the heinous thoughts.

“Oh, shit,” her eyes got big, blowing out a slow breath. “I didn’t even realize. Josh and I–.”

“Were roaming the room for half of the night and preoccupied for the rest of it,” you said, shivering at the deplorable thought of your friend and sister.

“I was with you for a good chunk of it, too, bitch,” she corrected, pointing at you.

You stuck out your lip, nodding to agree. “You’re right. . .but you were also way too distracted by Josh to notice.”

She made the same face, mirroring you. “You are not wrong,” she grinned smartly, winking suggestively. “No regrets.”

“I’m going to puke on you.”

“Oh my god, please don’t,” she gagged. And then started singing a thank you as the waitress came back with your tickets and a fresh coffee. After dumping one million half and half cups into her mug, she took a hearty sip. When she sat it down, she practically vibrated in delight. “Oh hell yeah.”

“You know Josh hates coffee,” you noted. “Prefers tea.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know. We’ve had many long debates over the ridiculous fact,” she growled. “He’s a miscreant when he wants to be.”

You laughed outright. “Yes he is. Little fuckin’ gremlin.”

The sound that roared out of her was more reminiscent of a yell than a laugh, but it became a string of snorting and giggles that you joined in on. After a few minutes of enjoying the sound of the other’s laughter, you shook your head and scratched your brow before seeing your phone light up with a notification.

Stupidly, your tummy fluttered at the possibility of it being Jake texting you. But then you remembered that he would absolutely not be texting you in his right mind. . . that was not where you were with him right now. You weren’t sure you’d ever be there with him again. And that thought made your tummy sink as soon as it’d fluttered.

Though, the notification on your screen was enough to bring a little grin to your face, your eyes watering with the overwhelming excitement and joy that ignited in your heart at the update from your Ovia Pregnancy app.

Week 10: Congratulations, y/n! You’re heading into the tail end of your first trimester. Your baby is now the size of a kumquat and almost 1 ¼ inches long!

Not being able to help it, you turned your phone to Elsie so she could see the notification as well.

She read through it, her mouth moving as she took in the words. A wide, toothy smile made its way to her face–her entire demeanor lighting up with you. Clutching both hands to her chest, her eyes were wet next time you saw them. Your own eyes filled with more tears at her reaction to it.

“I’m so proud to be an aunt to your little kumquat baby!” She said, her voice actually quivering with emotion.

“I’m glad you’re proud,” you responded with a sniffle, drying your undereyes with a Waffle House napkin. “I’m proud, too.”

Her smile turned close-mouthed, yet no less sincere and delighted. “You should be,” she paused, then her crying eyes dried a bit as her tone turned serious. “And Jake will be, too. I know it, babe,” she stopped, pondering a thought. “You are going to tell him, right?”

You didn’t have to think about your answer. He had to know. You wanted him too, really. “Yes.” Then, your tummy flipped. “ But I don’t know if he’ll be super excited when I do,” you shook your head. “This was not in the cards for him this year. . . I wouldn’t blame him if he rejected the idea of me being pregnant with his baby.”

“Well, he wouldn’t reject it. I can say that for certain–I’m dating his twin and I know Josh would never reject a baby,” she said, wiping at her face with her own napkin. “And, I’m going to argue the other part, too. . . it obviously was in the cards for him,” she reached a hand out towards you and you took it. “This happened for a reason, sis. A good one. And Jake will view it as such.”

“I just don’t want it to slow him down,” you squeezed her hand, looking down to where they entwined on the gray table. “I need him to keep going and chase his dream.”

She raised a brow, shook her head from side to side, once again disbelieving. “He will, y/n. He’ll keep going. Josh is– and he and I are dating?. . . What’s the difference?”

“Where do I start? Most importantly, I’m messed up in the head and I need to work on myself before I expose him to myself,” you insisted, bringing your hand back to place on your tummy. “And he and Josh are different. . .Josh has a drive that Jake doesn’t. Jake gave up his dream before and he’ll do it again if he’s allowed. And a baby is already damn near the most drastically life changing thing that could happen to a person. Could completely screw up his plans,” you sighed resolutely. It was clear to her that you were firm on this, so she sat back with open and considerate eyes to let you finish. “Best to keep things separate between us so he has one less thing that is tempting him to put himself last. A baby is enough.”

She hummed, taking it all in. After taking a moment, she gave a response. “I just have one question.”

“Yes?” You prepared yourself, raising a brow.

“What’s the difference between you and the girl?-- What’s her name anyway?”

“Maya,” ugh. Hate that name. “Her name is Maya. And she is normal where I am not.”

“O-kaaaay,” she replied, still unsure of the validity in your response. You didn’t know why she seemed so unsure. She knew you better than you knew yourself. She knew you were jacked up. She let out a massive sigh, then continued. “Well, I don’t personally think you know her well enough to make that assumption. She could be more detrimental to him than you–.”

“Not possib–.”

“And you could be exactly what he needs,” she said, almost in finality, though it was obvious she wasn’t done when she leaned forward, her tone hard and steadfast. “You’re also not as “jacked up” as you seem to believe you are. Have you got things to heal? Yes. But are you still one of the most incredible people that has ever walked this planet–if not the most incredible? Even more so, yes,” her eyes watered again, but she sniffed the tears away to say her last piece. “I think you could very well be exactly what Jake Kiszka needs to be complete. And even though I wasn’t around for all of the intricacies of you two, I should’ve caught on. Because I do know the way that man fucking looks at you. . . and dammit if I’ve ever seen another man look at a woman the way he looks at you. . . not even Josh with me or Grandpa with Grandma.”

Your heart swelled and your cheeks grew instantly red. Your blood buzzed in your veins. . . did he really look at you like that?

Then, selfishly, you wondered if anyone else had noticed like Elsie had. . . like Josh. Fuck. Did he see how Jake looked at you? Had he already presumed things about you and Jake based on how his twin apparently, blatantly, ogled you? And then you realized, yet again, how you would have to obviously tell Josh of the baby. . . oh god; how would he react?

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you muttered. “I don’t need anyone to–.”

“To know?” She squeaked a giggle. “I’m sorry, babe. . . but I think your cover’s about to be totally blown within the next nine months.”

You groaned, placing your forehead in your hand as you blew your hair away from your face. “How will Josh react?” You moaned, halfway to yourself and halfway to her.

“What?”

You snapped up. “How in the hell is Josh going to react?!” You anxiously quizzed her, eyes wild. “He is already going to be hurt that I kept it from him. And then there’s the reason I kept it from him in the first place. . .,” you felt tears well in your throat right before you nearly slammed your head on your crossed arms, which laid against the table, dramatically.

Okay, these hormones can fuck right off.

“Why’s that, sissy?” She carefully inquired, tone soft, not judging your reaction the way you internally were. “Remind me again.”

You moaned, raising your head and willing the tears away. “He made it so incredibly clear to me how Jake didn’t need another woman infiltrating his life and distracting him. And how Jake needed this time to discover himself for the first time in his life. . . and I’ve completely ignored that desire of his,” a lone tear slipped from your ducts. “I’ve betrayed him. Selfishly.”

Letting the words sit in the air between you, she waited a couple of beats before inserting her two cents. “When does Jake finally get what he wants?”

You wrinkled a brow, tears completely dissipating out of curiosity for her next words.

“I mean. . .” she started, making a thoughtful smacking sound with her mouth. “Josh thinks he can call the shots. You think you can just decide to not let yourself ruin his life? Like, what the hell, first of all? And second of all. . . what if he doesn’t care about any of that shit and just wants you? Did you ever take a second to consider that?”

“Yes, Elsie,” you growled, defensive once again. “And that’s why I’m keeping the ball in my court. I’m protecting him. And that was Josh’s intent, too.”

“I don’t know where you two get off acting like Jake isn’t a grown ass man who can make his own decisions. . .,” she trailed off, flashing an irritated look out the window.

You did not want to get into this right now. The conversation was trailing much further than you fucking wanted. Your nerves were practically electrifying you and your head felt heavy.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Elsie,” you shortly bit out at her. She snapped her head back at you, her eyes still on fire. You stayed firm. “I’m done talking about all of that shit,” your hands laid safely on your lower, swelling tummy. “I have bigger things to consider now,” after glancing down at your stomach, you hit her with another stern glare. “So drop it.”

Her chest was heaving.

You were not sure what was happening; why was she suddenly so “Team Jake”? When had that happened? And again, why?

“Fine,” she conceded, sniffing resolutely once and then went to sip her coffee. Which, by the look on her face, was cold again. “Yuck. Can we bust this joint and go to Starbs? I need the sweet stuff.”

You sighed with relief at the change in subject. “Yes,” you smiled. “Let’s.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

It was just you and your sister in the open apartment, which was now completely cleaned from last night’s festivities due to your obsessive-compulsive cleaning. Though, you couldn’t help but notice when you’d come back from breakfast, Jake had been gone and the apartment looked much better than when you’d left with Elsie. It felt nice that he cared for the apartment, too–enough to try to keep it clean.

You trained your thoughts on Elsie, as she waited at the door to leave, bags completely packed, awaiting her Uber to the airport (you were, unfortunately, so suddenly fucking tired that you had decided you weren’t fit to drive her).

You didn’t want to let her go. She was your one person who knew now, and no matter how much she challenged your stance on Jake, she was still your sister and your person and you needed her with you during this time. . .

“Can you not just stay for a couple more days?” You tried once more, knowing better than to ask, as she’d repeated the words more than once now. “Let them know your sister is having an existential crisis and needs you?”

She huffed with a grin, rolling her eyes. “You are literally fine,” she reassured, reaching a hand out to hold your arm. But instead of letting it stop there, you fell into it and let yourself fall into her–let yourself wrap both of your arms around her shoulders, hugging yourself tightly to her.

“Please don’t leave,” you moaned, your voice so meek it was straight up depressing. “I need you.”

She hugged you back, dropped her duffel off her shoulder in the process of embracing you. “I always need you, sissy,” she agreed. “But I’m just a FaceTime or text away,” she assured you, combing her hands through your wet hair, having taken a shower while she’d been gone saying her goodbyes to Josh. “I’m here. And you have people here. You just need to let. them. in.”

“I know. . .,” you sighed hotly into her natural curls. “I’m just so scared to tell Jo–.”

“I’m tired of hearing that, babe,” she asserted firmly. “Because the last person you need to be scared to tell is Joshua,” she stated, leaving no room for argument, right in your ear. “And if you think about it, you know him well enough to fucking know that. So get out of your maze of thoughts and know the truth.”

She was right. . . Truly, you knew she was. You knew his heart. But. . . “How will I even. . .?”

Pulling away from you, she kept her hands wrapped around your forearms, keeping a caring hold on you. Keeping you near. “I’ve actually been thinking about this, like, all day. . . but the first thing that came to my mind is what I keep going back to.”

You waited for more, but she didn’t continue her thought. Impatient, you asked. “Which is. . .?”

“Invite him to a doctor’s appointment. Maybe your. . .first?” she offered, questioning the last part. But sounded completely sure of her idea. “It’s the perfect way to break it to him. And. . .if I’m correct, I’m assuming you haven’t had one yet since you just decided to keep it?”

“Yeah. . . no appointment yet. So, I could. . .ugh,” you answered. “But– why? How–? Will he–?”

“It’s the ideal situation because he will feel like he’s being helpful and loving. He’ll be able to be there for you. He’ll feel needed and involved and that is literally all Josh wants in general in life, so. . .”

“It’s perfect,” you weakly agreed. It really was. You couldn’t deny it.

“Yes, it is,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder and lifted her duffel bag back over her shoulder. “I came up with it.”

You scoffed. “Okay, now. Don’t get a big fuckin’ head, loser.”

“Bitch,” she bit back, shoving your shoulder.

Rubbing your shoulder in faux pain, you gave her a pitiful expression. “Elsie. I am with child, you need to be careful with me now.”

Bursting with a chuckle, straight from her chest, she shoved your other shoulder. “I’m not touching the damn stomach, so I’m good.”

You shoved her back, dropping the act and giggling with her. “You right, you right,” you said. Then, your thoughts came back to the task at hand. The baby that was squirming around in you. “I’m still scared.”

“That’s another perfect aspect of telling him in that scenario though,” she added, assuring you with her opinion. “You can’t back out. You’ll have to tell him if he meets you at the doctor’s office or takes you there or whatever the hell he does. . . you’ll have no choice but to tell him before you go in. And he’ll just have to take it,” she said, her plan sounding, admittedly, concrete. “He will survive,” she dropped her hands from your arms and looped her belt bag around her chest before placing a hand delicately to your cheek. “I promise he’ll survive.”

Just then, her phone dinged, indicating her Uber had arrived. So, with many “I love you’s” and a few curse words, you were following her down the stairs, then hugging her tightly once more outside of her awaiting Uber.

And as you watched her leave the parking lot, the tears started to flow. So. many. tears. Steady, hard, relentless weeping. . .

The emotions were obviously true, yes, but the hormones–and your current, lonely headspace– were amplifying the already-existing emotions of her leaving to an incredibly irritating degree.

But before you could lose yourself in them any more, you heard a door to a car shut to your left, along with a laugh you knew all too well. Jake was home.

And if you didn’t move, he was going to see you as a hysterical mess and you did not want his fucking pity right now. Last thing you needed. And worse, you also didn’t want to see his expression, for the chance it might be hard and uncaring. You also didn’t want to possibly see a certain woman arrive with him.

You were sure she was with him. The feminine giggle you heard accompanying his endearing chuckles could be no one else.

So, instead of looking in his direction, you turned quickly on your heel and speed-walked up the stairs, a hand on your tummy to avoid any hurt to the kumquat baby.

As soon as your back hit the closed door, you breathed a sigh, which turned into a long yawn. The kind that made you shiver with a sudden, urgent desire to sleep. You didn’t have to work today, you’d canceled study plans. . . So suddenly, you felt abundantly free and a nap sounded like the perfect remedy to the overwhelming emotions of your day.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Monday came and went before you even knew it was happening. As did Tuesday. As did Wednesday. And when Thursday came around, you had your Modern Poetry elective. The one class you had with someone you knew relatively well.

You hadn’t made it a priority to make tons of friends while in school to get your degree–you’d had Josh and Elsie, and eventually Sammy and Danny. . .and that had been enough.

But, when Theo had popped back up into your life, anytime you saw him in a class, it really did feel nice to be around someone familiar at school. Even though he was on the more annoying side, he was still a good confidant.

And especially with the massive course load this semester, having someone you knew around was helpful. Good for feeling less alone. He was somebody who was going through school with you; he got the overwhelming amount of pressure from school, too. He felt the senioritis, too. . . but, his case was slightly different.

He was ready to be done with school so he could pursue this career he longed to have in writing, while you were just ready to be done.

Initially, when you had started the semester, you were just ready to be out of Pratt because you felt like you were wasting your time on a degree you’d lost passion for (save for your minor in media studies which gave you the occasional music-related course).

Now you weren’t sure why you were ready to be done. What made you feel more anxious to put Pratt in the past now? Was it the burning desire to be done with a passionless major? Or did the life in your tummy have something to do with it? The thought of the baby you held inside honestly got your blood pumping more excitedly in your veins than a college degree ever could.

You really only cared about ascertaining a healthy baby– no longer caring much for a piece of paper saying you had studied writing, uselessly, for four long years.

But you had to make it through school. If not for you, for your baby. You didn’t have much longer left, and you owed it to that child to see this through. You had to find some drive though. So, in came Theo to help with that. He was great at encouraging others, and that was exactly what you needed while trudging through the sixteen hours of classes you’d enrolled in this semester.

When you were getting up to leave for class that afternoon, you had your mind set on a big jar of baby pickles (stereotypical pregnant woman, much?). You were ready to get off campus and to the nearest grocery store for the deliciously tangy food.

Before you could leave your two-person table, though, a hand came out to grab your arm as a way of stopping you. If you had acted on impulse, you would have whined and stomped your foot in protest at being kept from satisfying your pickle craving.

But you didn’t act like a petulant child. Instead, you turned around, eyes opened and ready for whatever was needed from you.

And when you looked behind your shoulder, Theo was there, a head or so above you, smiling and waiting for a response.

“Yes?” You asked, semi-irritatedly, semi-sweetly. “What’s up?”

He just stared a little while longer, blinking rapidly before shaking his head. His blonde hair had grown out a bit and shook with the movement, eyes twinkling just enough, making your heart thump a little harder in your chest.

Why in the hell?

“I meant to ask you Tuesday, but you were gone before I could,” he started, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder. He shifted on his feet a little before peering curiously into your eyes. “Are you okay? I missed seeing you for our usual Sunday study time. . .”

You swallowed, slightly grumpy that he felt the need to pry.

He’s just showing he cares, y/n, the angelic voice said, which now stopped by more occasionally than the negative one.

Not wanting to tell him anything too personal (God, no), you went with the bare minimum. “A friend hosted a Halloween party at my place on Saturday, and my sister was actually in town for it,” you divulged, wrapping your fists tighter around the straps of your backpack. Please let me leave after this. “So I hung out with her yesterday while she was still in town.”

Not the whole truth, but not so much dishonesty to me feel bad.

“Oh!” He said, a light hearted laugh accompanying his tone. “Cool. I remember from high school how close you two were.”

I remember how much she didn’t like you, you thought, feeling uneasy at past-Elsie’s opinion of the guy.

Was he really that bad though? He’d been great for you during high school. Even though it had only been a year of time with him, he had still been a decent person to have around during those formative years of your life. He had been considerate, kind, helpful. . . the only negative things you could remember were the few times he’d try to get you to calm down on unnecessary occasions. He could be occasionally judgmental, but wasn’t everyone to an extent?

And maybe you and Elsie had only been your average, overly sensitive high school girls and had thought he was worse than he actually was.

Because at this moment, all you could see were the green flecks in his blue eyes and how they caught the sun that shone in from the window behind you, and onto his pale face. The way he waited earnestly to hear your response made you feel special and valuable to him at this moment and what woman didn’t like that?

“Yeah,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear before folding your hands over your chest. Aaand, wincing, you quickly moved them away. Your boobs were especially tender with the extra pressure against them. Every day they seemed to get more sensitive to the touch, feeling heavier–fuller. “We’re still that close. Probably closer now, actually. After living together, and then her job forcing her to be far away often. . .,” you trailed off, sad at the thought of her being so far away all the damn time. “We’re forced to communicate way more than we ever have before.”

He nodded, winking at you. And although he was cute, you didn’t feel anything at the wink, really. It didn’t swirl your tummy with nerves like it would with someone. . .else. You chalked it up to the craving that was still distracting you, making your tummy growl.

He cleared his throat before he tucked one hand in a jeans pocket and one tighter around the strap of his bag. “Intentional is the word,” he added with another wink, seeming to understand to a degree. But you caught the aggravating ‘know-it-all’ attitude. Tipping his head, he looked at you with smiling eyes. “You okay?” He motioned with his hand at your neck-chest region.

Your brow furrowed, confused. Defenses were instantly raised and you took a step back, tucking your hands into your back pockets. “Yes?” You retorted, tilting your head to challenge him. “Why?”

“Just saw you flinch and all,” he said, in wonder at your tone. When he spoke next, he no longer seemed understanding, only misunderstanding. “Nothing big. Don’t worry,” he held his hands out, as if calming a tiger.

You felt stupid for overreacting, so you covered your tracks with a forced giggle, masking the situation the best you could with a straight-up (ironic) lie. “Just a certain time of the month,” you explained extremely falsely. “Overly reactive to everything right now.” That was true.

“Oh,” he pointed a finger at you, pretending to get it. “Makes sense.”

Okay, you thought, squinting at him as he looked to the side with a sort of confidence. Maybe Elsie had been onto something. . .

But then he peered down at you again with his sparkly eyes and shaggy, naturally blonde hair. It made you feel a little weak for the guy, even with him irritating you.

But why was he irritating you, exactly? Maybe your emotions were controlling you a little too much– getting too easily offended thanks to the hormones. . . Perhaps he was just acting like a normal human, while you were the one who wasn't reacting like a normal human.

Your stomach was fucking growling though. . .Theo didn’t matter worth fuck at that moment. What did matter was how badly your body was craving eating for two. If you didn’t eat soon, you were afraid you would faint from lack of sustenance (you definitely wouldn’t, but there were the over-reactive feelings again).

You started backing up, and made it just next to the table when you were saying your next words. “I’m going to go ahead and get out of her–.”

“Wait!”

Having just turned on your heel, your face was hidden from view, and you were able to roll your eyes when you heard him. You weren’t going to stop though. He could follow you to the parking lot. You were hungry and grouchy and ready to eat an entire jar of pickles before crashing hard against your sheets. Before you had to show up at the B&G for the evening shift.

“Follow me,” you said, short, only looking over your shoulder at him briefly before continuing your trek. But please don’t talk for long.

You were just outside North Hall when you decided to stop, so you wouldn’t have to fear him stalling you at your car.

“What’s up?” You asked, playing cool despite your desire to grumble.

“I actually– I just thought–,” he laughed, seemingly at himself. He scratched behind his ear. Then he stood up straight, determined after tucking both hands into his front pockets and clearing his throat for the second time that day. You noticed his jeans, dark wash, skinny, and complimenting his firm thighs. “I wanted to ask you to hang out with me sometime– outside of here.”

Seriously? He was stopping your pickle eating for this?

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you, confused. “We do hang out,” you grasped tightly to the straps of your backpack again, anxious to get food. Already tired of him. “Every Sunday.”

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, pausing. Then he grinned in a way you assumed he thought was cute. But all it really did was make your eyes hurt from the inability to roll, out of courtesy for him. He continued, taking a step closer. Your hands did start perspiring and your heart sped up positively at his proximity. “But I thought maybe we could do something not related to school?”

You opened your mouth to reject it–you were not interested. For many reasons. The biggest being the baby in your belly. . .

Although, the more you pondered the baby, you realized more than that, you were hesitant because of his or her father.

Not the child, but Jake. The man that was ever-present in your mind– with his beautiful, brunette hair, eyes the color of understanding, easing you in the most complex situations. . . and the heart that’d made the world suddenly make sense. . . (Which still scared the hell out of you, by the way.)

But. . .as the thoughts spiraled, it all started to have the opposite effect. Made you want to agree.

So, you did.

You said yes to hanging out with Theo. Because, as soon as that thought process had started derailing, you knew it was best to agree. The idea of hanging out with him seemed like a great distraction from Jake. A much needed one.

What you had with Jake was nothing and it was in the past. For a reason.

After you watched him smile wide and say he’d text you, he went to join a heap of Pratt’s fraternity boys. You could only hope that maybe getting out there and hanging out with someone else would get your mind off of Jake.

You did not want it going further than a few dates with Theo. Just a little time with Theo would surely be all it took to get your headspace cleared and make it easier to navigate life.

The repercussions to its ending were literally nothing. You’d switch seats in class and force yourself through school with the occasional encouragement from Elsie. Theo was not a necessary addition to your life long-term, but you figured he could help you short-term, while also creating long lasting benefits.

Surely you could divert your thoughts from Jake. Think of the child first, and put its father on the backburner as you weaved through this next chapter in your life. . . No matter how badly you wanted him with you through all of it, experiencing it all first hand with you, it was the wiser decision to keep things separate.

And, as an additional help, Theo would make it obvious to Jake that you were willing to keep your life separate.

So, when you did eventually tell Jake (dear fucking God), there would be an additional party that emphasized you’d moved on and all that mattered now was the baby.

Not the two of you. That ship needed to sail.

Even though the thought made your stomach hurt like hell and tears well in your eyes as you pulled into the nearest Trader Joe’s for pickles. . . you knew it was the truth.

-🌼🌼🌼-

That evening, you took a longer route to work, choosing to listen to a podcast you’d found.

Having listened to the first episode on the way to school that morning, you decided to fill your cup with another episode on the way to work.

It was a magnificent podcast that was all about the ‘ins and outs’ of pregnancy, being a new mother, and how to grow mentally and emotionally during such a unique time.

The second episode was going just as well as the first until you heard one of the moderators’ voices get low and forlorn.

“You know ladies. . . the first time I got pregnant is planted firmer in my memory than any of my other pregnancies,” she said, sighing heavily.

“Oh, yeah, Jen,” another moderator said, voice growing dim with Jen’s, apparently (you were still getting accustomed to their names). “I bet, babe. . . The ones that are lost are the ones that stick so close it fuckin’ hurts and heals at the same time. . .”

“Agreed, Tally,” the third—and last—speaker on the podcast chimed in. “I’ll touch on my story after Jen.”

“Thanks, Molly,” Jen’s voice rang through your speakers again. “Yeah, it’s just a different feeling when they’re there and then suddenly they’re not. . . When you imagine holding them in your arms for God knows how long and then it suddenly becomes impossible to do so,” Jen sniffed, and just as she did, you felt a tear hit your own cheek. God, you were hurting with her. “Every woman is different, but I just hang onto my loss like nothing else. And not necessarily in a bad way— just in an attempt to sort of keep the baby here with me— Give her the life she never got to fully live.”

Dammit, the tears wouldn’t let up. They were trailing down your cheeks steadily. When you got to the next stop light, you had to grab a napkin from your glovebox to blot at your cheeks, already marked with black streaks of mascara. Thankfully you could still wipe them up easily, not dried to your skin quite yet. But you knew the crying wouldn’t be letting up soon. Your emotions had been triggered and you would be seeing this sadness through. (Hello, pregnancy hormones.)

You took turns holding the napkin under each eye, making sure to catch the tears as they continued.

“I’m right there with you, Jenny,” a voice you now recognized as Molly’s said. “Even though my stories are a little different.”

Stories?

God. You kept your eyes on the road as you popped open the glovebox once more, grabbing a fistful of left-over restaurant napkins.

Sitting them on top of your legging-clad thighs, right where you could reach them, you took a right turn towards the B&G.

“I’m sure we have listeners who will relate to all of these stories,” Tally interjected, sniffing. “Both of you girls.”

“I hope we’re able to help someone,” Jen responded, voice still thick, but not so bad as before.

You heard a sigh before Molly started speaking again. “The first time I carried was very similar to Jenny’s. Lost the baby. Early on. The worst loss I’ve ever experienced—I will never understand why we lose them,” her voice shook with sadness. But, it soon transitioned to a hot flash of irate frustration when she spoke next. “I will also never understand the people who invalidate our experiences just because they were lost in the womb or lost as little tiny babies. . . Just because they weren’t full grown people, outside of the womb, when it happened. . . doesn’t make it hurt any less. You have just as much to mourn for the life they completely lost.” And just as soon as she was firm, her voice was soft again. “The life we lost before it was time.”

The other two agreed, voices low out of respect for the moment.

“Then there was my second. . .,” she blew out a breath, as if preparing. She gave a half-laugh. “Strange occurrence. . .”

“But it happens!” One of the other two chimed in.

“Sure as hell does,” Molly said. “The second time I carried, I had a hysterical pregnancy– a case that only 6 women in 22,000 experience. . .”

“I can’t imagine. . .,” Tally breathed a sigh out. “Your body, tricking you like that.”

“Yeah, and it felt completely real– like everything you’d expect,” she replied, thoughtful. “Like everything I experienced with the one I’d lost before. . . And, God, it was so incredibly hard to get through once I found out what my body had done to me. . . I just wanted a healthy baby–especially after the loss. I was still hurting badly from losing the first when it happened. Almost like my body was playing tricks on me just to see how far I could stretch mentally and emotionally,” she laughed under her breath, in spite of it all.

“So fucking cruel, babe. . .”

But you weren’t focusing hard enough to know who was talking anymore. You’d caught on to the stories they’d told and now you were over analyzing your situation. . . Questioning everything. . . Was this real? Was there a baby there? Were you having a hysterical pregnancy? Was your body playing tricks on you?

Or, had you been pregnant, and had now lost the baby like those women had? Were you still carrying the life you’d started planning around? The little life you were becoming more and more attached to by the day?

Had you ever been carrying it?

As you pulled into work, you put one shaking hand on your rounded lower belly.

- 🌼🌼🌼-

Suffice to say, your entire evening shift was spent in over-contemplation and searching miscarriages, hysterical pregnancies, and semi-local OBGYN’s during the lull of customers.

As you’d searched online for a clinic, you were not looking for places too close, as you didn’t want God and everybody seeing you enter the clinic on a regular basis (if you, in fact, were to find out you were carrying a tiny little bean-baby). You sure as hell didn’t need anyone to start questioning you before you were ready to offer up answers.

Once you finally left your longest shift ever, you drove home in deep thought and drowning silence.

Your research over miscarriages and hysterical pregnancies had done you very little good. They’d actually done you no good at all, if you were being honest. Everything you’d read made you question a lot.

Because, everything that could possibly reassure you was also possible in a hysterical pregnancy or a miscarriage.

One: your growing tummy (which could continue growing in both of the sad, unwanted instances). Two: your hurting breasts (which could still hurt in both sad, unwanted instances). And three: your nausea (which could still occur in both sad, unwanted instances).

Once at home, you took a hot second getting ready for bed— lost in thought, you decided to try to tiring yourself with a bath, complete with lavender scented bath salts and bubbles. Once you were finally in bed, cozy in your softest pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, you tried so hard to force yourself to sleep. You didn’t want to have to wait any longer to call the nice little clinic you’d found.

And you sure as hell weren’t hungry. Didn’t want to eat with your stomach spinning with so many nerves.

And, the sooner you fell asleep, the sooner you could call the clinic and schedule an appointment.

- 🌼🌼🌼-

But, after laying there for what felt like hours– the sounds of calming ocean waves playing through your phone and everything– you were still awake.

You were drowning in all of the thoughts. Drown-ing.

One that was flashing brightly at the front of your mind was why you even cared so much. And, the more you thought about it, tossing and turning, you realized you’d found the most unique, fulfilling form of reassurance in carrying the child. You wanted this baby. It had happened without you even meaning it to. . . but you wanted this baby so. fucking. badly. You’d tried damn hard not to want the little thing, but now that you’d spent so much time pondering it and holding your tummy? There was no question about any of it. You just wanted your baby and you couldn’t figure out how to explain it.

After rolling around far too much in bed, you realized you still hadn’t heard the telling sounds of Jake coming home. So, you decided to venture out into the living room to let a TV show distract you. Hopefully distract you enough to go to sleep. Pillow, Stanley, and phone in hand, you grabbed the fluffiest blanket from your blanket basket and nestled into your couch.

Just as you’d turned the TV to Friends–wanting to feel closer to Elsie, but not feeling brave enough to talk to her whilst already being so emotional–, you heard the sound of a key jingling in the locked doorknob. And then the door was opening and you were looking behind you at the sound— for God knows what reason.

Then he was all you saw.

Jake.

Clad in the most handsome black, felt peacoat, the top of his head hidden by a black beanie. . . the chilly evening’s attire suited him so well that it brought a ridiculous tear to your eye.

So devastatingly handsome and not at all mine, your thoughts became enveloped with storm clouds.

Thankfully he didn’t see you staring, as he seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact as he went about setting his keys in the bowl and taking his coat off to hang it on the rack by the door. And, as his actions cemented your thoughts, your eyes became wetter, a tear falling down your cheek for this stupid ass, cruel reality that you’d created. Even if you had done it for a good reason—and you had—it still sucked big ass.

But, just as soon as your eyes were growing teary, your heart was beating erratically in your chest. The sight of the soft, tanned skin between the opened lapels of his shirt— exposed after taking off the coat. And the silver necklaces that clanged against his bare chest were the same he’d worn for Halloween. . . Your mouth watered as you observed the way they fell between his pecs which rose and fell with balanced breaths. . .

Seriously, fuck these hormones.

Before you could get lost in the roundness of his ass through his jeans, he turned to the counter once more. You flipped back to your original spot on the couch. You decided to

feign any knowledge of him being home, curling into a little ball on the couch and closing your eyes to fake sleep.

When you heard him make a stop at his bedroom and then heard the bathroom door click shut, you stayed wrapped in your cocoon on the couch. And before too long, you felt yourself fading to black, one final tear slipping past your closed lids as Rachel and Ross argued over being on a break.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Initially, you weren’t sure what it was that brought you back from such a deep slumber. But, once you heard him, you knew. The deep, raspy laugh that was slightly muffled through you gaining consciousness.

Why was he in the living room? Was he? Was this your imagination? A taunting dream?

You cracked an eye open the slightest bit to allow some adjustment to the light you’d shut your eyes to. But. . . There was no overhead light. It was off. The room would’ve been pitch black, save for your standing lamp’s yellow glow and the blue light from your TV.

More importantly, the warning feeling of a crick in your neck was suddenly catching your attention. So, without worrying about your company, you quickly sat up to attempt getting more comfortable. You didn’t want to feel awkward around him, but you also didn’t want to deal with a hitch in your neck or a migraine in the morning.

The loud yawn that escaped you once you’d sat up couldn’t be helped. You were slightly embarrassed at the obnoxiously loud noise that emitted from your mouth as you stretched. Blushing, you glanced over at your fellow living room occupant to see if he’d even noticed.

And, of course, he had.

He was staring at you—but. . . not judgmentally. Not at all. In fact, his eyes held the natural, reassuring lightness that occupied your sweetest recent memories. And the small grin on his face. . . was shocking, to say the least.

Why was he acting so okay with you? He’d been so distant recently. . .

You knit your eyebrows together, hyper aware of his presence and needing answers as to why he had decided to sit next to you.

“What are you doing here?” You clipped, tone sharp. You brought your blanket all the way up to your chin and around your shoulders, as a way to protect yourself from the (obviously) harmless man.

Although, you instantly regretted it as his expression became apprehensive rather than open like seconds before.

Why do you have to go and ruin everything, y/n?

He leaned back, his eyebrows furrowed as he balanced a bowl of (. . . macaroni and cheese? Fuck, that looked good.) on his knee, holding onto it with one hand. “I live here, y/n.”

And yet another memory was flashing back to you from the night you got high. . . his breath, hot on your neck, your skin erupting in goosebumps as he said similar words then– your skin flaming now, too. Just the sound of his voice could elicit the most from you. Fuck your pregnant feelings.

Or were they just feelings? The fear came rushing back the moment you thought yourself pregnant. . . was there a baby in there? God, fuck. . . you really didn’t want to sit in this train of thought again.

You figured you might as well use your company to distract you. . . .You missed talking to him anyways–missed it so damn bad.

But your tummy interrupted you. The growl that emitted from it was fucking humiliating, honestly, but it had happened. And after eyeing you curiously for a minute, Jake’s lips turned up with a one breathy laugh, his beautiful pearly whites on full display. God, he was handsome.

“You hungry?” He questioned, lifting his mac and cheese. “I made more of this. It’s just the shit Kraft, but it still hits the spot.”

Nodding, you went to hesitantly get up to get some. You really didn’t want to move from under the security of your warm, cozy blanket.

“No, just wait here,” he insisted, standing. His pajama pants were your favorites (the ones he didn’t normally wear underwear with). But you did not watch his crotch for movement. Your eyes were just staring at the wrong place at the wrong time. Really. “I have to wash my bowl anyway. I’ll put the rest in a bowl for you while I’m up.”

Again, why was he being so fucking nice? But you weren’t about to disagree. You were comfy and hungry and he was offering. It felt like old times and you felt like being momentarily delusional.

“Okay,” you quietly agreed, your eyes shifted, unsure to his face. But he was moving before you could look at him. Back to the kitchen. After a few moments, he was back, handing you a little white bowl with a spoon. The scrumptious, cheesy noodles made your eyes light up. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, responding as though elsewhere. This was weird and you hated how it all felt. But he kept talking, filling the air as he sat a beer on the end table beside him, before sitting back down in the chair. “I had to get a beer anyway. Long day with the guys and May–,” he cleared his throat, his eyes shutting briefly as he shook his head.

Fuck. Thanks, Jake, you thought, your eyes on the verge of welling with tears. The moments of silence, hanging in the air, closing in around you. Not fucking now, hormones.

All you wanted to do was ask why it had been a long day. Get more information that might hurt you. Why did you do that to yourself?

Though, before you could say anything, he continued. Awkwardly, his eyes flashing momentarily to the TV to reset as he spoke. “Long day. I should’ve asked if you wanted one.”

Your cheeks heated. . . little did he know. “I’m good,” you mumbled, looking down at your bowl. Stomach sinking with your thoughts from earlier, you decided to eat before you lost your appetite again. Not the time to be sad. “Thanks though.”

The next few minutes went by in a silence you wanted to stab with a fucking knife. It was seriously unpleasant and sucked ass. After you both laughed at a certain thing Joey said, you figured you might as well try to keep some sort of conversation going. Because, god, you missed him.

“I meant in here, by the way,” you motioned with your head to the space around you, mouth full. (Ladylike.)

His brow raised as he looked from the screen to you, setting his gaze on you. “What are you–?”

“My question. Why you were here,” you embarrassingly restated, hearing how it must’ve sounded. “In the living room. With me. Why you were in here, in the living room, with me, of all places.”

He sat further back, but this time going to sit in the armchair comfortably. His feet propped up on the ottoman across from him. “Well,” he covered his mouth, coughing briefly into his fist. “To be fair– you were sleeping when I came to sit down in here.”

Rather than being unnecessarily hurt over him only wanting to be in the same room as a sleeping version of you, you let yourself give in to the temptation and take advantage of him being distracted by his next task. You missed everything about him. . . even such a simple thing as watching him move.

Pathetic. And, because your mind hated you, it felt like you were watching him move in slow motion.

You watched in a daze as he leaned over to the tall lamp’s attached table, his self-cut gray t-shirt rising up at his hips to show his firm abdomen flex with the stretch. It shouldn’t be so fucking hot to watch someone reach for a fucking beer bottle. But, the sight that greeted you next was worse than seeing his side peeking from his shirt. What you saw next were his full, pink lips, wrapping just right around the glass top of his beer bottle as he took a generous sip of his Miller Lite. You admired, mouth open as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each gulp of the beer.

But when he went to repeat his action of leaning over the chair to set the bottle back, you decided to look away so as to save yourself from the torture (or, from the possibility of being caught). You took a bite of the mac and cheese, growing cold in your bowl.

Your heart was already hammering much too erratically from glimpsing these ridiculously mundane motions. . . fuck it all. The heat from being so near to him and watching him settled from your head all the way to the pit of your tummy. You swallowed down your bite thickly.

Your tummy.

“Yeah,” you muttered, awkwardly – you just wanted to have a conversation to get your mind off things. Problem was, you didn’t know where to necessarily start with him these days. . . Work? The band? Maya? God, no. . . gag.

Lucky for you, he took the initiative before you had much longer to overthink it. “I’m glad you woke up, though.” He pulled at his plaid pajama bottoms as he scooted up again, going back to get comfortable on the ottoman. Sitting with his legs spread (dammit), he balanced his elbows on his knees as he reached for his phone in his pocket. “I actually wanted to run something past you.”

God, please don’t say you found a place and you’re moving out. . . you thought, suddenly downcast and dreading what he was about to say. Or that you’re moving out to live with her.

You swallowed the thickness in your throat, trying to alleviate the unwarranted nerves before responding. Dispelling them with food, you took one more bite before swallowing it to talk. “And what’s that?”

So what if he wanted to move out? He damn well could. He surely had the money and you two weren’t involved.

He scrolled for a few more moments, your heart thump-thump-thumping without relenting. . . And finally, he found what he was looking for and before you had time to prepare, his eyes were sinking into yours earnestly.

God. . . what is he about to sa–?

“I found a place for you to get therapy,” he stated, tone soft and careful.

Therapy? Safe to say you were not expecting those words.

And rather than being nervous, your emotions shifted to defensiveness. Where did he get off looking into that for you? Why was he . . .? Was he talking about the promise he’d made in his bed? That same night you’d panicked at your grandparents’? He’d remembered to do that? Why did he even care, still? You didn’t deserve for him to care– didn’t want him to care. It felt uncomfortable.

“Why?” You sharply asked, holding your bowl in stiff hands on your lap.

He leveled you with a look that said ‘cut it out.’ Did he really know where your thoughts were trailing? Was he still that in tune with you? Surely not. He was probably just irritated with your tone of voice. “I told you I would look for you, so I’ve been keeping up my end of the deal. I’ve actually asked a few clients if they knew of any nearby therapists worth their salt,” he peeked back at his phone, scrolling on it when he spoke next. “And there are actually quite a few good ones in the area.”

Your heart still beat harshly in your chest as you felt your skin heat with rage. You set your bowl down on the coffee table. And, the blanket, suddenly suffocating you, was flung off without a thought. “So, what is this? Is this you saying I’m a fucking loony, Jake? I’m sure you’ve been desperate as fucking hell to get me help because you think I’m such a nutcase,” you spit. You sounded dramatic (and, admittedly, like a deranged woman). You knew that. If you were thinking sensibly, you’d know he didn’t believe those things. . . but you were embarrassed that he’d been thinking so hard about this. It hurt your feelings that he thought you needed help that badly. “I’m just so broken and damaged and insane that you’ve decided you need to get a damn shrink to fix me.” Your lap was a sudden magnet for your eyes, your hands entangled on your pajama bottoms. Now, the hot teardrop that hit your interlocked hands was not expected and you swiftly swiped at your cheek. “Thanks for thinking so long and hard and asking God and everybody to find the most qualified person to psychoanalyze the shit out of me,” you sniffled, a couple more tears falling before you willed them away and looked in his eyes. “Thank you so much, Jake.”

But he wasn’t flustered. . . no, he actually sat there and took it. The brow that had raised on his face as you spoke was the only indicator that he’d heard you.

The emotions you were experiencing were big and uncalled for. . . but, you were stressed. Over a lot of things. Doubting a lot of things. Your life seemed like one humongous question mark and you were sleepy as fuck and it was all just catching the fuck up with you.

He cleared his throat, glancing once more at his phone before setting it on the arm of the chair. A tiny smirk ghosted briefly over his lips before they were set in a flat line again as he spoke next. His eyes stayed trained on his own hands, now clasped as well. “Y/n. . . Please. You know I don’t fuckin’ think those things,” he tried quietly, slightly testy, but not harsh. Then his irises found yours once more, making your heart rate speed up. You did know that. . . You knew better. He was right. “You agreed to this. I wouldn’t have made a point to look into this if you hadn’t okayed it,” he stretched his hands out and then combed them through his long, chestnut locks.

His jaw flexed and he eyed you once more, digging into the heart of this before going any deeper. “I don’t want to force it on you. I won’t go any further in this conversation if you don’t want it. This is your decision. You know I looked into therapists. That’s it. You choose where you want this to go and then I’ll either leave you alone or tell you what I found out.”

You felt bit by bit of your current guard break down as you slowly relented. Because, well, you did want to know what he’d found out. Absentmindedly, you glanced down at where you’d subconsciously placed your hands over your stomach. It was habit at this point. That one reason underneath your fingertips was pushing you to know what he’d come to know. If you were, in fact, with child, you were desperate to start therapy. Yeah, sure, you wanted to get help for your sake. . . but more-so the child’s sake. Because, honestly, if you were not with child, you weren’t really sure if you’d want to push yourself to do that– go through all of those intense measures and changes and emotions that you knew only therapy could bring.

There was a ginormous sneaking, sinking suspicion in your gut. The one that was telling you there was a helluva lot more simmering, boiling beneath the surface than you knew. There had to be. For all the blaming you’d put on Jake just now, you knew you were a basket case. And there were some good fucking reasons behind it that you had to get to the bottom of.

You had to do it for your child. And, on the off chance that your worst fears would come to light and you weren’t actually pregnant, it wouldn’t hurt to at least hear Jake out. Listen to what he’d found.

You mumbled your next words. “Do you think I need fixing?” Dear God–where had that vulnerability come from? Did you want to know his answer?

Jake brought a thumb and forefinger up to his chin as he scratched it in contemplation, still measuring you with a long look. “I think it’s more complex than that, y/n,” he breathed a sigh out, as if not sure how to say what he was actually thinking.

And dammit– it hurt for him to not just respond with a simple “no, I don’t think you need fixing.” More complex? What the hell did that even mean?

“Do you think I’m brok–?”

“No,” he sighed. Then, he had your heart leaping into your throat when, in one swift motion, he was standing and walking the ottoman closer to where you sat on the couch. When he plopped down, he didn’t touch you. . . but the closer proximity was enough. The way your eyes naturally flitted momentarily to where his chest steadily rose and fell. You breathed with him. He spoke his next words with a low rasp, eyes serious as they pored into yours. “You are not broken.”

Your heart fluttered, making its way back to its home in your chest. “Okay,” you muttered. You needed to hear him say that– more than you’d ever be comfortable admitting. Finally, you responded to his prior offer. You knew what you wanted. “Tell me what you found out.”

Jake watched you for a few more seconds before leaning back a little, reaching back to grab his phone from the arm of the chair he’d been sitting in. You averted your sight to your hands this time, not watching his movements. Your hands, which were still nestled nonchalantly on your tummy.

“So,” he started. Your gaze flickered up to him, a lazy smile fitting to your face. You watched his lips move as he spoke. Honestly, you hated how safe he felt. It wrapped you up cozier than the blanket that’d been around you moments ago. And the sad reality: you couldn’t wrap yourself up in him. You’d have to take what you could get. “I found this place. About 30 minutes from us. It’s a bit of a lengthy drive, but I figured it was worth it. It’s a clinic that’s very well known by many people around here, I’ve found out.”

“Expensive?”

“Eh. Yeah. Pricier than others,” he clicked his tongue, raised his brow. “But– I asked Josh offhandedly the other day what the insurance was like at the B&G to figure out if it was covered by your–.”

“What do you mean offhandedly?” You nudged, hoping he hadn’t divulged that it was about you. “You didn’t tell him–?”

“No. I just asked him as if I was comparing it to mine at the agency that I teach lessons through,” he reassured. You breathed in relief. He snickered. “I wouldn’t tell him anything about. . .,” he cleared his throat, his eyes shifting from your face to the wall behind your head and then to his phone again. “Anyways. . . they’re covered by your insurance.”

At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter if Josh found out. . . he was about to have a massive bomb dropped on him (by you, of course). But. . . you still didn’t really want him finding anything out from Jake. Didn’t want him hearing anything before you were ready.

“Cool,” you grinned, trying to ease the tension. He opened his mouth to continue, but you stopped him before he could. “Thank you, by the way. For looking into this.”

He looked surprised and you hated that he seemed that way. You should have been more appreciative to begin with. . . this was such a selfless thing for him to do and you’d reacted by getting defensive and snapping. When that was the last thing he deserved. God, you were awful sometimes.

He smiled, wide and close-lipped. “Of course. I told you I would.”

You nodded, looking back to your hands, which you’d let move to your lap. Didn’t want him catching on to you holding your stomach. “What’s the next step?”

“Well,” he began, hesitantly. “I called them for a quote and asked about a specific therapist.”

“Why specific?” You questioned, scrunching your brows.

“That leads into the next part, actually. . .,” he slowly continued, “She’s the only one at their practice that specializes in this unique form of therapy. A type I’ve read and researched on a fuck ton. . . I wanted to find the perfect method for your specific traumatic effects. So, I thought of the dreams. . . how you like control. . . I think it’s the type of therapy you could benefit most from.”

Damn. Way to call you out on your need for control. If anyone knew how much you desired control, though, you figured he did. But. . .now you were even more curious. . . because. . . you were venturing into different types? Wouldn’t just be sitting down with a shrink? What did he have in mind?

“And this type is. . .?”

His eyes light up, excitedly, as if he’s been dying to get to this part. “It’s called EMDR,” he voiced with a tinge of apprehension and elated anticipation. As you mouthed the letters under your breath, he clarified further. “Eye, E. Movement, M. Desensitization, D. And Reprocessing, R.”

You blinked a few times and shook your head. “Okay,” you stated slowly, placing your hands in front of you to indicate he needed to slow down. “What the fuck does all of that mean though?”

“Before I continue, I need you to know: I’ve done a shit ton of research and out of all of it, I’ve become really invested and interested in this type of therapy specifically. . . and for good reason. I’m really hopeful that it will help you,” he emphasized, eyes sincere.

Your tummy did somersaults at how invested he’d become in all of this . . . but your mind stuttered momentarily at the flutter. You couldn’t help but get lost in the thought of a little bean in there and how you hoped to feel little kicks someday (obviously not yet, Jesus Christ), not just Jake-induced butterflies. God, you hoped there was a little thing in there. . .

Jake’s steady, soft voice brought you back to the present and to his face that peered down at his phone, reading carefully. “To put it simply: it’s like a form of hypnosis. A way to force you to remember certain things so you can finally move on and heal from them.”

You blanched at that. “I’m going to be hypnotized?” To say you were second guessing this was a massive understatement. This EMDR shit could take a back seat. You were already apprehensive about getting help–even with the traditional approach. “I’m not down for hyp-fucking-nosis. Hell no. And all for the sake of remembering things I don’t really care to remember in the first place? I don’t think so, Jake,” you shook your head, toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your t-shirt. “I’m already taking a hugeass leap by being willing to go to therapy itself. I don’t need the voodoo shit . . . I’ll settle for the traditional approach,” you paused, not wanting to get too far ahead before showing your thanks. “But. . . thank you for–.”

“No, no. Listen,” he said, laying one hand on your knee for a blip of a second, your mind short-circuited at the touch. He damn sure had your attention now. “It’s different. Yes, you’ll remember things. But . . . well. . . Shit, I don’t know how to explain it in my own words.

“Well, just send me a link and I’ll give it a read and we’ll settle–.”

“Quit,” he sternly said. “Quit saying that you’re going to settle. I don’t want you to settle. I want you to get to the root of this. . . so you can heal. Please. Hear me out,” he pleaded, the hand going back to rest on your knee for a few moments longer than last time before he removed it again. “It's–it’s more than remembering. It’s like— like your mind takes you back to the memory. You’re there all over again, living it a second time.”

“Yeah,” you went to stand up, but he moved with you, showing you he would follow you. So, you stayed put. Dear God, Jacob. “I don’t want to live the shit for a second time. Why the hell would I want to do that?“

“Do you want to fucking heal?” He snapped, his eyes searching yours for any sort of bullshit.

You blinked, “Damn,” you began, a sarcastic, irritated smirk on your face when you shook your head. Could he give you a break, maybe? Shit. But, still, you answered him. And his impatient, waiting eyes. Your answer was a no-brainer for you at this point. “Yes, Jake. I want to fucking heal.”

His jaw flexed as he let out a deep breath, through his nose, pinching the bridge of it. “So, please, y/n. . . just listen to me. Hear me out. You don’t have to do it. I just want you to let me explain it first,” he begged, eyes trained on yours, following every flicker of them. The unsureness you communicated through your gaze was balanced by the overwhelming sureness in his. You nodded for him to continue. He reciprocated the action, continuing with a deep breath in and and a deep breath out. “EMDR allows you to heal by letting you be in charge of your healing. You have the power to leave the situation this time. You’re in control of it now. It’s the past. But you have to face it. . . That’s part of it. . . The cool thing is, though. . . you can control whether you stay or leave a memory; you control how you move on from it.”

Well, goddammit. . . Of course he’d know just what to say to get you to finally listen to him.

Control. That single word finally flicked the lightbulb on in your stubborn, jaded head.

You paused heavily in your opposition, taking note of his far too sincere features. Perhaps he truly was just trying to help you, a sentiment that had always felt utterly foreign to you throughout your life. You’d held all of your guards up so high for so indescribably long. It took a lot for you to dare let anyone in aside from your sister (who, if you had to be honest, simply didn’t have a choice being your own flesh and blood. . .And given the fact that she lived it, too).

But the harsh reality of the matter was, you had let Jake in. Too much. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the moment, you could’ve smirked at the irony of just how much– the possible little life in your tummy, a constant reminder in recent times. And, well, you’d definitely let him in enough that he knew you came with some serious trauma.

You watched him carefully, suddenly beginning to realize that the only reason you’d felt so reluctant to heed his guidance with this bizarre form of therapy. The reason you always doubted him– you couldn’t fathom the fact that he truly wanted to help you.

But, time and again he seemed to prove you wrong. Even after you’d bitched him out to kingdom come in the kitchen months ago. There was no reason for him to want to help you. But here he was. With his research, his beautiful and honest eyes, the phone that he gripped with purpose with explanation after explanation, as if a lifeline. . .

He cared. Whether you could accept it or not. . .it didn’t change the fact that he actually cared.

“I’ll go talk to the therapist,” you finally offered, relenting as much as you could at that moment. “I’ll feel it all out after I talk to her about it. . .,” you leveled, feeling fair in that decision.

And he didn’t question, just shook his head with a lip stuck out. “Yeah, yeah. Totally.”

“How do I schedule the appointment?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next day was spent making strides towards your future. You scheduled the OBGYN appointment as soon as the clinic opened— being as that was the first, major priority. Setting that up had been simple. A date and time. The insurance you’d be using. Then, you’d hung up.

But, as soon as you’d set that up (and felt utter relief at having that panned out), you called the counseling practice Jake had told you about. And, you set up a therapy session with the woman Jake had given you the name of for the day before your first OB appointment. . .

The counseling appointment was set up for the upcoming Monday. . . For some reason, when you’d been on the phone, scheduling for the nearest date available had seemed like the only logical option. But, it hadn’t been as cut and dry as your scheduling for the doctor’s appointment. There’d been a form. They’d informed you that they would email it for you to fill out with some general information (and a picture) before your first appointment. It was slightly daunting, but not totally unexpected, the more you’d thought about it. It was an understandably reasonable precursor to your first session. Just a few minor things to assist in your therapist knowing the most basic things about you before beginning.

Doing it before the OB appointment had also seemed like a good idea. Talking to someone about the newfound worries to help you wade through the days to seeing the obstetrician. . . It seemed like a good plan of action. Made you feel more peace for the whole situation, honestly.

So, that Friday, as you settled into your seat for a stupid ass writing course, you didn’t even care as you felt like other things were on the move. Honestly, at this point, you wanted to say fuck school and your distaste for the major you’d chosen. . . As they didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of it all. Bigger things were about to start happening.

And you could only hope that what awaited you would be positive. . . Positive bigger things ahead.

Bigger things that looked like real healing and a baby with Jake’s eyes.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The couch was leather and a little cold, even through your leggings. . . and the small office-room smelled like essential oils. It was reminiscent of a spa without the ambience music.

The place didn’t need the music, though. . . the oils and general atmosphere were the perfect, calming mixture. . . Well thought out combination of smells and colors to ease the mind.

But no therapist. Not yet. You’d been led by the secretary into a room where you now sat by yourself. She’d offered tea, coffee, and water, with a large, welcoming smile on her freckled face. You couldn’t refuse the offer, so you’d accepted the option of water.

It had been in a bottle, and you clutched it tightly, opened only for the tiniest sip as you let your body relax as much as it could, leaning the slightest bit back into the couch.

And you continued to wait.

You watched the closed wooden door, your eyes wandering every now and then to the artwork that depicted gardens and fresh flowers. . . Some were beautiful paintings, while others were simple little drawings, or even real flowers, pressed in a glass frame.

The walls were tinged with a light sage—the color, oddly easing to the mind.

Then the knob was twisting open, matching the feeling of your nervous tummy. The muscles at the pit of your stomach flexed and flinched at the prospect of the therapist. What was she going to be like? Would she match the cool, relaxing environment of her office? You could only fucking hope. . .

Looking down at your hands to avoid any awkward eye contact, you took note of how badly you needed a manicure. . . damn.

“Y/n?” A reposeful, gentle voice interrupted your nail critique. You looked up to acknowledge your long-awaited company. . . and man, was she completely different from your last therapist. The first thing you noticed was that she was. . . young. Mid-thirties at the very oldest. She was much younger than your aging counselor from the past. How long had she been doing this? “I’m Gianna. But all of my clients and closest friends call me Gia.”

“Gia,” you tried it out, letting a small smile fit to your face. It was a genuine smile– you were relieved. Without even really knowing her, you already felt so at ease with her. She was one of those people–like Elsie or Josh–who just carried a naturally empathetic, calming air. Made you feel like you were standing in the breeze on a warm spring day. “Nice to meet you.”

Her hair, naturally dark, but dyed beautifully to be a blonde-gray, was up in a styled messy bun. Lips, painted in the most beautiful naturally red tint. . . and the round, wire-framed glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose complimented her soft features so incredibly well. The freckles on her pale face, visible through the circular frames. Her cheeks were tinged with a perfectly rosy blush, and they swelled with your greeting.

She adjusted her loose, beige overalls over her off-white, long-sleeved mock neck. The overalls were the fabric ones that’d gone viral (which helped you to note how incredibly trendy she was, if you hadn’t already been able to guess that). She inhaled and exhaled easily, her lips quirking even more than before. “It’s nice to meet you, y/n,” she repeated back to you. “I’m sorry it took me a bit to make my entrance. I like to give my people some time to adjust to the space before they’re bombarded with all of the therapy stuff. It’s an important thing to me.” Then her leg was being bent to balance her white, platform converse on the seat of her pale pink rolling chair. “Before we begin. . . I also need you to know that my office has a completely open door policy. If, at any moment, you start feeling uncomfortable, please let me know and you may leave to take a break, or simply leave the practice to adjust your thoughts before the next session. Won’t charge you for the whole time or anything. . .,” she added the last part, surely as another financially conscientious adult. “I just know that sometimes this shit gets tough–baring all of it and having to get through it. . . it’s rarely easy, and I want to be able to foster a healthy, resting environment for you as you wade through all of it.”

“Wow,” you blinked, your heart warm in your chest as you let yourself sink a little further into the couch, shoulders loosening just a bit. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”

Winking, she brought the mug up to her lips that she’d carried in with her. After taking a sip, she sat it on her desk and then wrapped both arms around her bent leg. “Is there anything you’d like to know about me and my profession before we begin?”

You pondered that, always having questions swirling in your head. “Just general things,” you snorted, playing it off. “Stupid, basic shit that I don’t need answered.”

“Nothing is stupid in here, sweets,” she said firmly, her eyes communicating more than the words she’d said. “Sometimes misguided and confused, yes, but never stupid.” She used the foot on the ground to swing the chair from side to side, ever-so-slightly. “Sooo, shoot. Ask anything you’d like–basic or not.”

Blinking at her again, you let your grip on your water bottle ease up. “Oh, um,” you quietly began. You scrambled for the right words. “Well, I guess I was wondering how long you’ve been doing this?”

She giggled. “Oh, sure. . . I’ve been practicing for about five years. Administered EMDR for the past two or so. . .” Her cheeks were still rosy with a gentle smile when she spoke next. “I will ask, though. . . did you not check out the website prior to this?”

Fuck. You hadn’t thought to do that. That was strange. . . usually you’d jump at the chance of looking into anything and everything before diving head first into something. Especially something as serious as a life-changing thing like therapy and the person you’d be inevitably baring your soul to. What in the fuck? Why hadn’t you thought to do that?

“I– um,” you searched her eyes, as if they held your answer. “I didn’t. Which is strange for me.”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” she said, grabbing her mug from her desk again. But before taking a sip, she continued. “I just noted on your form that you like having control over the things that transpire in your life. And checking the website to do some solid research seems like just the way to do that.” She took a sip, humming as she took it away from her full lips. “But there’s my thoughts going to crazy places based primarily on black and white principles. And we’re definitely not here to do that,” she shook her body as if shaking it off, putting her leg down and nestling her mug between her hands. “I don’t look at shit in black and white. That’s something that, as your therapist, I need you to know. There’s a lot of healing properties found in the gray.”

You couldn’t explain it, but the last sentence left you feeling this overwhelming sense of hope and understanding. Without even knowing you, she seemed to get the fact that you came with a lot of fuckin’ gray. All kinds of shades of the color. Had you been that transparent on your form? Not able to remember it, you just pushed it to the side as you figured it didn’t really matter. Because even if you had been open on the form, you were about to get much more transparent.

“Thank you,” was all you said, the water bottle held in loose hands as you comfortably crossed your legs. “My life has left me pretty fucking gray, so that’s a relief.”

“There’s beauty in the gray, love,” she noted, leaning forward as if engaging even further in the conversation (as if she wasn’t already remarkably with-it). She held her tea steady in her hands, and you couldn’t help but look down at the mug to see what it looked like. And, of course, it was covered in pale flowers, just like her office. “I’m down for any more questions you may have.”

“Family?”

“Just a fiancé, but other than her, I’m pretty estranged from much more family. Boundaries are a specialty of mine, and I’ve had to set a few in my life,” she said, assured and confident. “No kids yet. We aren’t quite sure if we want them or not.”

You nodded. But, you were not able to hold back the wetness that gathered in your eyes. The tears settled at your ducts and if you blinked, you knew they’d fall. The way you were feeling at the moment was unexplainable. So many things at once. But, most importantly, you were thankful. Thankful for people like Gia. The woman exuded peace and you weren’t sure why you’d ever questioned trying therapy again when there were women like her in this profession.

“Thank you,” you said again, as if you were a manufactured robot. Then you shook your head, embarrassed at your currently tiny vocabulary. “I’m sorry I keep saying that. I’m just grateful there’s people like you in this world.”

Wow. Okay. So we’re getting real honest and sentimental now, huh? A good-humored voice asked you. Here for it.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said quietly, respecting the new emotions in the room. “Are you ready to tell me a bit about you?”

Letting the tears fall with a blink, you wiped at them with a breathy laugh. She grabbed the nearest tissue box and handed it to you. You wiped under your eyes and dabbed at your cheeks. “Chose to not wear makeup for a reason,” you chuckled, internally thanking past-you. She laughed with you, placing the Kleenex on the couch next to you for proper access, then sat back, balancing her elbows on her thighs as she held her face up with open palms.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said once you’d settled. “We’ve got the next hour and a half.”

“How much do you wanna know?” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you placed your locked hands over your tummy. “I’m a basket case.”

Her eyes sparkled. “As much as you’re willing to tell me,” she affirmed with a wink behind her glasses. “I’m all ears.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

So, as you left that day, you were absolutely confident in saying Gia knew about as much of your life as Elsie did. And that was saying something.

She’d just been so receptive, and had kept encouraging you– as you cried and laughed and sighed and growled. She kept reminding you that she wanted to ‘hear as much as you’d give her’. That she was ‘in your corner’ and that she was ‘there for you.’ And her words and kind eyes were enough to spur you on. Continue to the point of her knowing nearly everything there was to know about your life.

From your childhood to now, Gia was now totally knowledgeable in the realm of Y/n.

Thankfully, there’d been no EMDR, as she informed you that next session you’d begin talking about the intricacies of the practice and whether or not you wanted to begin with it the session after your next. She wanted to take time to adjust and ‘simply be’ before introducing the innovative method of therapy.

She’d given a couple of tidbits about it, just for you to think about before the next session, but not too much, since the next session was dedicated to her actually breaking it down for you.

“Now, before you leave, I want you to know that we can locate your safe place next time. The place in your mind where you’ll return when you need a breath of fresh air amidst the memories,” she’d offered, hands in her pockets, tea cup abandoned as you stood up alongside her to follow her out of the office. But before you two left the office space, she took the time to assure you once more. “But only if that is what you decide you want. This is your life, sweets, and I’m just here to help you through it.”

And, for the eighty-millionth time that day, you’d told her ‘thank you.’ You were going to take a bit of time to consider it.

She’d also given you a few nuggets of wisdom.

They’d specifically followed the end of your session, when you’d broken down about the unsureness of your pregnancy (but easily applied to the rest of your messy ass life).

One thing she said to do: “Slow down your thoughts. Do not let them take control. Slow them down and figure them out with what you know. Piece by piece, break them down before they get too astronomically crazy.”

Another being: “Let yourself feel peace. Just every once in a while, let yourself feel it and don’t let guilt eat you alive for it.” (When you’d laughed sarcastically, she’d nodded, agreeing that it was “most definitely easier said than done.”)

She had been wonderful at assuring you that it was most definitely a product of your trauma to react so preposterously. How you thought certain decisions and thoughts might give you peace, yet always resulted in the opposite. But, she’d also told you that you’d “figure it out bit by bit” as you move along and to “give yourself grace” as you navigate it all on your own, in your day-to-day life.

But, there was one singular, specific piece of advice she’d offered that was sticking out more than much else.

Of course, you’d filled her in all the way up to your appointment tomorrow and Elsie’s idea for Josh to attend with you. You wanted her opinion on it, asking for as much, and she’d been firm in her opinion. Her words rang in your head as you navigated the late afternoon New York traffic on your way back home.

“Your sister is a genius,” she’d said astonishingly, blowing out a breath from between her naturally full lips. “Everything she said is exactly what I’d tell you, too, sweets. And if it helps to hear this, even as an outside party, Josh sounds like the type of person to receive it in a non-traumatizing manner. He will, most definitely, be sensitive to your feelings. And, having him there will help you feel less alone and calm in your worries. . . and it will help him feel needed–like Elsie said. So, truly, it’s a win-win. If I had my way, I’d make sure Josh is there tomorrow. But, again, it’s your life and it’s up to you.”

“How do I even ask, though?” You asked pathetically, pulling your sleeves down over your hands as you began to get nervous at the prospect.

“Take a deep breath,” she calmly recited (as she’d done a time or two during your life lament). After doing it with you, she settled you with an understanding gaze. “Just text him. Tell him you have an important appointment tomorrow and that you need him there with you.”

“And if he asks what it’s for?”

“I’d say you tell him that you’ll tell him when you see him or when you get there,” she advised. “But, I don’t think he’s the type of person to question when you’re being vulnerable like that. I’d bet you he just agrees to it, no questions asked– if he’s free, that is,” she winked.

So, with her sitting there, you’d texted him and asked exactly what she’d told you to. The thing about having an “important appointment.”

And even though he hadn’t responded, you tried to not overthink it as you calmed down from telling your entire life story to your therapist.

When you’d pulled into the apartment complex, your stomach sank at the sight that greeted you. Your space was awaiting you, but Jake’s, next to yours, was empty. Per usual these days, his new purchase of a used car was not at home at the same time as you. Really, you’d gotten used to his lack of presence. But it always made you sadder than you wanted to admit. Because, well, you knew if he wasn’t at the studio or some rehearsal, he was most likely with Maya (you were awfully glad he didn’t bring her around the apartment too much, but still. . .your mind went crazy at the other prospects of what they were doing).

But today, it was worse. You were sad for more than your assumptions about his whereabouts. Today, you desperately wanted to tell him thank you– wanted to fill him in on how it had gone so great. But he wasn’t there. Because you’d pushed him away (something that Gia told you you’d ‘navigate the reasoning for’).

So, as you trudged up the steps, instead of walking in to tell Jake, you just took time to relax as much as you could. And you figured a good way to do that was to give yourself a long ‘everything shower,’ with your most favorite R&B playlist playing as background noise.

And when you’d gotten out, the screen that you opened your phone to was something that brought a swarm of anxiously joyous butterflies. Under his name, there was a ‘Yes, of course!’ from Josh. And below his text, was a notification for your next appointment with Gia. One week from today.

Everything would be okay. It would. You recited this as you responded to him, deciding to try your best not to think of telling him until you absolutely had to tomorrow, after hitting send with a simple ‘thank you :)’.

You kept reciting that everything would ‘be okay’ as you put a hand to the firm little bump, growing steadily at the bottom of your tummy. And you contemplated as much as you were willing to, without reducing yourself to any more tears (you’d cried enough already for one day). Because now all you were going to be plagued with for the next several hours until your OB appointment was whether there was actually a baby in your growing belly.

You then ate a giant salad (everything else you wanted to eat had made you feel nauseous as hell), as you’d watched Friends. Your thoughts were subdued, but still spiraled a tad. . .though, you took Gia’s advice and tried to slow them down to navigate each one with what you genuinely knew. There was nothing telling you that you weren’t with child besides your own convoluted mess of negative thought. More signs were pointing to that you still were. One piece of truth keeping you going was your growing belly. And even though bellies could still grow after miscarriage or in the case of hysterical pregnancy, the probability of that being your situation was very, very slim. Right?

You knew that.

Before too long, you were standing in front of your vanity, braiding your wet hair and laying down to find rest much easier than many nights in recent times. . . the only thing that kept you up for a bit longer than you wanted was wondering why Jake hadn’t come home yet.

But, again, you knew it was none of your fucking business.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next afternoon had you waiting outside of your apartment as soon as Josh said he was about five minutes away. Your apartment had started to feel absolutely insufferable, closing in around you as your mind went crazy with scenarios.

The autumn day was lovely, sun shining, but warmer today than it’d been yet this season. With no breeze. And, the lack of breeze was not aiding in your already-sweaty palms, wet with nerves. Or your upset stomach—your current nausea induced by your anxiety more than the (hopeful) baby in your tummy.

Your stomach was fucking rolling as you waited for Josh to pull up to the complex.

Dramatic as it may have sounded, you felt as if you were on the verge of a heatstroke when he eventually showed up in his little car, which was literally squeaking and creaking as it sat still. The exhaust emitted from the back of the car was enough to make you feel like you were actually going to blow chunks, and you instantly decided you could not ride thirty minutes to the clinic in his little hunk of metal.

Sending a quick text, you made up an excuse to take your car. To emphasize the text, you went ahead and started walking to your Jetta, parked in its usual spot.

You, 11:49 p.m.: I need to get gas… Can we take my car?

Josh, 11:50 p.m.: Of course.

Josh, 11:50 p.m.: Are you ready?

You smiled, looking over to where he was still parked in his visitor space. His eyebrows crinkled in concentration to the device in his hand as he watched the screen, waiting for you to respond.

You, 11:51 p.m.: Yes, Joshua. I’m at my car and staring right at you.

As soon as he got the text, you waited for what you knew was coming. He looked up from his phone, through his windshield, and at you with a giant grin painted across his features. It didn’t take him long to get out of his car, lightly jogging as he came over to you.

“You creep,” he smiled, slightly out of breath. “Peeking through my windows.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach started aching, yet again, at the prospect of what you were about to tell him. Honestly, at this point, you were just ready to get it over. The longer you kept it to yourself, the more you were worrying about it and his possible reaction. And the sooner you could just tell him, you’d see his honest, real reaction. . . and then you could deal with the rest from there.

It also helped that his girlfriend and your certified therapist thought that it would go okay. They were the practical thinkers in this situation, whereas you were an overthinker to the highest degree. And, if you could just get it out–just fucking tell him–you could (hopefully) validate their predictions of how the situation would play out.

“Am I driving or are you?” He asked, bringing your thoughts back to the present.

To current Josh. Josh who didn’t know anything yet. Completely ignorant Josh. . . fuck. The last moments of keeping him in the dark.

“You,” was all you said before you unlocked the car and made your way to the passenger side. Once you were both inside, you handed him the keys as he started the engine.

Your stomach fucking dropped as he backed out of the space. . . what was about to come out would literally change you and Josh forever.

Would it be for good? Would it be for bad? If he was going to be mad at you, how long would he stay that way?

You couldn’t be upset with him if he got angry. For everything. Like distracting Jake when Josh had specifically told you he didn’t want that for his twin. Or for simply keeping this giant ass secret from him about it all. The more you thought about it, you thought that perhaps the reason you were so scared was because of how completely validated he would be if he did end up being pissed as hell with you. . .

But. . . you just couldn’t stand losing him. Especially at such a time as this. . . you needed him.

And that’s why you just needed to fucking tell him. It was inevitable for him to find out, and the sooner it was out, the sooner you weren’t lying to him anymore. Because that’s exactly what you’d been doing. You’d been fucking lying. For months. To your best friend.

“So,” he began, excited–the complete opposite of how you were feeling. “Where are we going?”

Plugging your phone into the CarPlay, you turned off Siri’s voice before you did anything since you didn’t want her blurting out your destination before you were ready to tell him. Once she was silenced, you pulled up the directions to the clinic you’d carefully chosen.

You sat back slowly after entering it, your stomach spinning as your thoughts went insane and your nerves continued to set on white-hot fire.

You spared a glance over at him through your lashes to see him looking out the corner of his eye at you, coming up to a stoplight. The look he was giving you made you sure that your face was morphed to show utter terror and worry. “What’s wrong, mama?”

Fuck. You turned to face the front again and squeezed your eyes shut at the nickname, bringing two clenched, sweaty fists up to your eyes as your skin began to feel like it was quite actually peeling off of you in nervous jitters. Your eyes couldn’t stand being squeezed shut any longer as you felt the tears forming behind your lids.

He continued driving, but with the occasional nervous glance in your direction.

Then, he laid a comforting palm on your shoulder, his thumb soothing circles over your arm.

And, once he’d done that, it was no longer in your control to keep the tears at bay. You tried to fight them back, but it was to no avail.

So, there you were, face becoming drenched in tears as you couldn’t stop sputtering little sobs.

In your peripheral, you saw Josh looking at you as he came to one last light before the highway, face surely painted with distress. “Y/n?” He checked, careful and concerned. “I’m sorry if I said some–.”

And what came out of your mouth next was not at all expected. But, it blurted through your lips with zero fucking warning. You did not know which part of your brain had decided to communicate with your mouth to say it.

“I’m pregnant,” you sobbed.

The car lurched to a stop, cars honking furiously behind you at Josh’s abrupt action. Your stomach, already thick with nerves, couldn’t handle it. You quickly slapped an open palm over your mouth to conceal any projectile vomiting. Thankfully none came, but you had to clench your eyes shut once again as Josh made a wide, sloppy U-turn off of the street that was leading to the highway.

And when he’d finally come to a stop again, you opened your eyes to see he’d pulled the car over into the nearest McDonald’s.

Focusing too hard on trying not to vomit helped you to stop the outrageous weeping for a few minutes. You finally peeled the hand from your mouth as you took several deep breaths, in and out, to calm yourself and your stomach.

Before you even knew what was happening, Josh was getting out, running to the door of the establishment. You watched in the mirror to your right as he simultaneously got his wallet out of his back pocket.

Choosing not to worry about it, you shut your eyes once more to ease your tummy. But it did not help and you felt the puke coming in just enough time to unlock your door, open it, and puke all over a piece of the yellow line that boxed the car into its space.

You groaned as you leaned back up into the car and into your seat, letting your hair fall from the impromptu ponytail that you were holding at the back of your neck. Popping open the glovebox, you grabbed a few napkins to wipe your face (these days, between the incessant crying and vomiting, you were fucking constantly thanking God for the years-accumulated collection).

And then the driver’s side door was opening once more, this time Josh’s khakis making the first appearance as he climbed back in. He had two cups, one balanced between his bicep, clad in a white, long-sleeved tee and his chest and one in his hand. He quickly placed both in the center cup holders and popped a straw in each.

Your brows lifted, wondering. “What did you–?”

“Sprite,” he pointed to the one at the front. “And water,” the one in the second holder.

“How did you–?”

“There’s a part of my brain permanently cemented with what it was like to watch my mom be pregnant with Sammy,” he explained, eyes soft with a smile gracing his handsome features. “I was too young to remember watching her pregnancy with Ron, but Sammy. . . he’s always been tough–even in the fuckin’ womb.”

You gave a small giggle, stomach spinning when your hand went to grab the Sprite. The carbonation sounded perfect, and Sprite had been a go-to in a few cases of your recent nausea.

The cool drink had been just what you’d needed, sighing as soon as you brought the straw away from your lips with the first sip. You kept it clutched in your hands as a lifeline when you looked at Josh next, eyes wet. “Thank you, Joshy,” you croaked, tone exuding gratefulness.

“Yeah, always,” he affirmed, his eyebrows dipped in. The next few minutes were spent in silence, your thoughts finally quieted a little with the initial confession to him. You took a few quiet sips of your drink, the sound of you swallowing the loudest sound in the small car.

Knowing he most likely wasn’t wanting to pressure you to talk, you took the initiative. “I–I’m sorry for not– I’m–,” you choked, shaking your head. The tears were beginning to gather once fucking more. Yet, even with eyes wet and throat tight, you persevered. You had to get the rest of it said before you continued to the appointment–you were going to be late if you didn’t get going soon. And you weren’t about to tell him the rest afterwards. “I have to tell you the rest.”

His jaw clenched in preparation for it as he nodded, his body turning to better face you for what was left. “Lay it on me.”

You gulped, mimicking his movement so you could see him better. Your throat was so tight it nearly suffocated you with nerves. “The–the father,” you started, looking into the eyes that looked so eerily similar to his brother’s. Very much like the ones you hoped your baby would wind up having–yet, not entirely the same. “Do you want to know?”

Of course you’ll want to, you thought at your ridiculous question. And I’m going to tell you anyway, but I’m stalling like a pussy.

His lips quirked, but only the slightest, tiniest bit. “Only if you want to tell me.”

I have to.

“I–I do,” you said, your eyes darting down to your hands which wrung at your waist, itching to touch your tummy. So, you did, settling them on the small bump. And instantly, you felt better. You were beginning to find it slightly crazy what one simple touch could do.

Choosing to watch your hands lace at your tummy instead of him, you took the last jump with two words. “It’s Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: i promise you won't be waiting a month for Josh's reaction ;) see you very, very soon <3

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rottingfern · 5 months

Text

sweetened breath, tongue so mean || a Bad Omens fanfic

Pairing: Noah x nonbinary OC

Summary: They're screaming at each other. They're throwing hands. They're half a second away from a violent hatefuck. And at the end of the day, they'll still call each other friends.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: ANGST, toxic relationship, language, heavy consumption of alcohol, degradation kink if you squint, brief discussion of body image, OC gets deadnamed, depiction of a panic attack, choking, cunnilingus, penetration, hair pulling, slightly dubious consent, spitting.

A/N: Wow do I love angst. But be warned going into this: THESE BITCHES IS TOXIC. Noah is not a very nice person in this, and neither is OC. This fic does not depict a healthy relationship. This is a work of fiction depicting a fictionalized version of Noah and does not represent him in real life.

A MASSIVE THANK YOU TO @signs-of-ill-portent AND @the-way-of-words FOR BETA-ING THIS FIC AND SCREAMING ABOUT IT WITH ME, for getting on my characters' levels with me and for egging me on to delve as deep and dark as I needed for this fic, for not allowing me to mince words and for listening to me catastrophize about the story beats as I figured out how to convey all the nuance this fic needed. Y'all really did the most when you didn't have to, and I AM EXTREMELY GRATEFUL TO YOU FOR THAT! My heart eyes are laser focused on you.

Brainrot Club: @meekahy @foliosriot @badhedonist Theme song is Hatef--k by The Bravery. I actually made a whole playlist! Click here to listen. Masterlist here.

Title taken from Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier; banner made by me; dividers by @saradika

Lee’s just about done with this show (though it hasn’t even begun) when their shoulders hit the poorly finished wall of the back hallway of the venue.

His lips are searing, supple and wet and clingy as they suck to their own. They clench their teeth shut at the insistent push of his tongue past their lips, demanding entry into their mouth. Maybe this whole moment - the hands on their shoulders, the thigh between their knees, pinned between drywall and a solid mass of body heat and want - would be hot, desirable even, had it all not belonged to the one shithead they’d been hoping to avoid tonight.

Of course, Lee would have more luck surviving a plane crash into the ocean than avoiding a shithead when said shithead is Noah Sebastian Davis. This whole situation is vomit-inducing. Embarrassing, honestly. They push on his chest, hard, like their life depends on it.

“God, knew you’d want it,” Noah pants when Lee finally manages to separate his suction cup of a mouth from theirs, his shit-eating grin planted firmly like he’d done something - whether he meant to be sexy or purposely disgusting, they’re not sure - and it doesn’t help he hasn’t learned to be less cryptic since they’d seen him last. “What, no ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’?” Lee shoots back. They’d backpedaled out that green room as soon as the members of their entourage were occupied by conversation, though they really should’ve expected this. Noah following them down dimly lit hallways with dishonorable purpose is par for the course. “Didn’t think I’d need one. Once a slut, always a slut.” His chuckle is like shattering ice, each shard aimed at Lee. “Isn’t that right, Leanne?”

Noah hasn’t changed in the ten years since they’d met, and Lee isn’t about to let the persistent press of his thick, hard cock against their stomach through layers of denim and terry cloth (or the way an engine downstairs springs to life when they feel it) change their opinion of him: that he’s a shithead through and through, cocky in the worst kind of way, hell-sent the day he was born when the universe decided not only to make him a bigheaded fool but also to let him win the genetic lottery in one fell swoop.

Doesn’t stop the clench of their cunt that they struggle to suppress. Doesn’t prevent the mental scolding they’re forced to give themself: the chaos monster that is Noah Davis’s entire being isn’t worth dealing with for even a hookup. It’s pathetic, tacky even.

Something primal, old and hungry flashes in the glassy gel of Noah’s eyes when he forces Lee’s gaze to his, fingers hooked firmly round their jaw; something uncontrollably soft in the way his jaw trembles to mirror Lee’s own when he grazes their hip with his free hand, when he presses his thumb firmly to their clit through the denim of their shorts.

There are a million things Lee could’ve picked from the Rolodex of elaborate insults soaked in a decade of contentious acquaintanceship they’ve stored specifically to knock Noah off his self-appointed pedestal, if only the butterflies insistently bubbling below their gut would just shut the fuck up for a single second. Could’ve, had Noah’s propensity to always control every situation so it goes his way not also applied to their own bodily function, apparently. Instead, they lower their chin, defiantly forcing his grip on their throat to tighten.

Dangerous mistake. Stupid fucking mistake, because their hips buck forward along his thigh at the pressure, just an inch, and Noah’s smile widens dangerously, and oh. Oh no. They know this look, and the words that are bound to slip from his mouth in three, two -

Like a miracle from God or whatever the fuck other omnipotent being lives in the sky, a shout of their name echoes through the corridors. Noah’s hands find Lee’s shoulders again, head dipping once more as their own hands push desperately against his chest in a mad scramble for dominance and escape. They will not be caught - will not be seen - kissing Noah fucking Davis in front of their coworkers. No fucking way. Gag. Although…

It does feel nice to be wanted, and it’s been so, so long since they’ve allowed themself this - no strings, mindless, just a quick way to get theirs. How long has it been? Since before they got sick, since before they put on the weight, surely. And Noah throws them around so effortlessly, they didn’t even feel that hot sting of insecurity as his hands ran down their body just minutes ago. And it’s not like they aren’t attracted to him, as long as he doesn’t speak. He’s always been hot - even Lee’s freshly-eighteen mind had been excited by the idea of snapping his scrawny little bones with their bare hands back then. And he’s only gotten hotter, with that fucking haircut and the way his once-concave pecs now ripple with muscle under their palms.

So, what’s the holdup? It’s not like the two of them haven’t done this before. It would be so easy: they give Noah what he wants, they get theirs, then they never have to see each other again (at least not for another three years or four years, likely). Why shouldn’t they just let him kiss them again?

“Lee!” comes another shout, snapping Lee from their reverie. It’s closer, the sound of footsteps to match echoing just around the corner now.

Their wandering mind had loosened their push on Noah’s chest to a caress, but now they use his momentary distraction to force him from them with all their might once again, schooling their stance into a casual side-lean against the wall just seconds before their friends round the corner.

“There you are,” Mike sighs. “C’mon, bitch, we don’t wanna miss the openers!” As Lee follows Mike and Noor out to the floor, they toss a playful smirk over their shoulder, but Noah’s already replaced his mask of impassiveness, arms crossed sternly with clenched fists. His loss.

Noor’s laserlike gaze scans Lee as they collect their drinks from the bar. “Have a sweet reunion?” she asks.

Lee huffs. They get enough of this shit from her at home, at work, basically everywhere. They love Noor, truly, but she’s impossible to fool and Lee really doesn’t need her picking around their brain when they themself don’t have a full understanding of what’s brewing in there.

“Sweet as fucking vinegar,” they instead reply, eyes rolling demonstratively. Noor’s lips purse in suspicion, so they turn away before she can do that fucking clairvoyant inspection of details thing she does, leading them back through the crowd to their coworkers.

It’s not that Lee is stupid enough to truly believe they’d manage to avoid Noah at a Bad Omens show - rather that they’d have elected to straight up Not Attend were the outing not made mandatory by their boss.

Mercury Hall is the largest venue in Burlington - a mid-size club with two balconies, standing thirty years with a stellar reputation to boot - but behind the scenes, despite a revolving door of staff, Mercury regularly employs a group of college kids who collectively have the common sense of a single person. Not that it’s surprising, really, considering Burlington houses two universities and both offer a “music business” major. Lee thinks Mercury should be hiring communications majors instead - maybe that’d fix their massive communication problem.

Ouroboros - Lee’s place of gainful employment - is a smaller club on the other side of Downtown, and has absolutely no affiliation with Mercury… except that the owners of the two clubs go way back, oldheads who’ve been buddies since school and all that, and Lee’s boss regularly makes any problems down at Mercury his problem.

Or, the problem of his long-suffering staff, to be precise.

Just like last week, for example, when Lee was just trying to sort out next month’s scheduling while jamming to some ABBA, and was interrupted by their boss Roy roping them into solving the issue with Mercury’s scheduling instead, on only a week’s notice.

Really, the solution was a no brainer. One band was not local and on a tightly-scheduled tour; the other - from just three hours south in Boston, were playing just a one-off gig. Ask the Boston guys to move to the following night - they’d get a Friday spot anyway, way better deal. Enlist Mike and Noor to assist with rescheduling the hired crew to Friday. It helped immensely that the Boston guys only recently graduated to playing Mercury, that Lee knew them from their years of traveling up to play Ouroboros. The other band was Bad Omens. So, really, Noah should be thanking Lee.

Thanks only came in the form of Hank, Mercury’s owner, interrupting their pre-show planning meeting two days ago to inform Ouroboros staff they’d been guest-listed for the Bad Omens gig. Lee thought better thanks would’ve come in the form of Hank hiring staff capable of doing their jobs, and stands by that opinion.

Excited chatter had erupted the minute Hank shut the door behind him - it’s a rare occasion that a decent metalcore act rolls through Burlington - but Lee could only focus on the cold pit that opened in their stomach at the thought of seeing Noah again. Later that night, they’d get disastrously wine-drunk with Noor on their ratty porch couch and lament on the absolute asshole that was Noah Sebastian Davis, but in that moment they only sat blank, nodding along obediently, as Roy instructed them to attend Hank’s “extremely generous offering”.

The issue isn’t going to the Bad Omens gig, because if there’s one positive thing they can say about Noah it’s that he really hit his stride with this project and Lee respects the grind. Nor is it the idea of being in the same room as him; it’s not like they haven’t been around him plenty and willingly over the past decade between touring through RVA with their college band, and in the multiple shared friend groups they’d amassed over the years.

Noah’s annoying as all hell: the kind of person who says and does whatever, whenever the hell he wants, who doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up, who will unapologetically push forward if it pleases him. And, apparently and unfortunately for Lee, his biggest pleasure is making them absolutely fucking miserable whenever they’re in proximity of one another. And especially unfortunately, he knows exactly how to push Lee’s buttons, which ones to push, and how to drive them to absolute breaking point.

And, his greatest pleasure is knowing Lee will just hatefuck him when they get too fed up. Lee would bet their life savings (spoiler: not much) that he was one of those kids who pulled all the girls’ pigtails on the playground.

Going into the evening, Lee’s biggest issue was just that: that they’d snap at him in front of their coworkers, that Roy or Hank would clock the familiarity and fire them or something, that they’d get overwhelmed and just fucking cry. Dealing with Noah’s antics was even a knife’s edge in the past, in casual environments where their friends would laugh it off as “Noah and Leanne bullshit”, when they’d had security in their identity and image.

In the now times however, with their confidence dropped to near-zero, with meds that make them burst to tears at any strong enough emotion, with a fragile half-decades acceptance of their queer identity (and Noah’s inability to fucking catch on and stop misgendering them), Lee wasn’t certain they’d be able to handle the pressure of the battle of wills Noah insisted on having each time they met.

Now, as the giant party of the Ouroboros staff, the touring party, and those of the Mercury staff who are legal to drink head to the Archives for after-hours drinks, Lee’s issue is that they’re actually enjoying themself because Resident Shithead Noah Sebastian Davis is being actually fucking pleasant. And they’re really not sure how to deal with that. It’s new territory. A no-person’s land, if you will.

He’d slowed down to where Lee trailed behind the rest of the group, likely sick of tripping over Church Street’s uneven cobblestones trying to keep up with Joakim’s (they refuse to call him Jolly. What the fuck kind of grown man calls himself Jolly?) speed racer pace. “Hey,” he says quietly.

Lee releases a long-suffering sigh. “Hi, Noah.”

They walk silently beside each other for a few minutes. From the corner of their eye as they tilt their head back to admire this year’s lighted arches, Lee sees Noah fidget uncomfortably. They’re seconds from spitting out an out with it, already when he finally asks, “So, archaeology was a bust, huh?”

Here we fucking go. They’ve decided their Rolodex of insults is useless and resort to just tossing him a nasty look, a roll of the eyes, and to speed up to walk with Mike, Noor and Folio when he hurriedly follows up with, “Only you seemed so excited about your degree.” He sports an unfamiliar expression Lee has never seen him wear (is it sheepishness? abashedness?), head dipped low. “Y’know. Back then.”

Lee’s brain is short circuiting. That’s the only explanation for the wall of static and dial-up tones smashcut with thirty different trains of thought that occupies it and allows them to respond only with a blank look and a dumb-sounding “oh” because, did Noah actually just ask them about their life?????

Since when did he give a flying fuck about anything but making their night hell? All Noah Sebastian Davis cares about is his boys, his music, and getting his. But, it makes sense, right, since the last time they saw each other was at a holiday party and barely spoke at all - maybe he is just curious. He’s being pleasant, but to what end? When does the other shoe drop?

Or, a small part of their brain whispers, maybe he’s finally grown up. He does look awfully sincere, chocolate eyes wide with concern. “Just didn’t work out,” Lee shrugs, electing to open up. “For a lot of reasons. Mostly because, I guess I didn’t love it enough to work up to the fun stuff once I started getting hired.” A bitter, self-deprecating chuckle escapes their throat way too loudly for comfort.

The group has reached the Archives now, and Lee sends a short nod in response to Noor’s concerned glance as she hesitates behind Mike at the bar door. They light a cigarette and lean against the wall, shuffling their foot along the pavement awkwardly. Lee tosses their gaze back up when Noah’s shoes stop before them. He’s open, inquisitive, and they can’t help but relax into it, dumping the rest out: “It’s a lot of travel. And my aunt was sick…”

They choke on the rest, and are suddenly enveloped in possibly the most comforting, needed hug they’ve received since she died.

“My mom, too, recently,” Noah eventually lets out, voice matching Lee’s choke. He presses them harder to his chest, holding them, clinging, letting Lee soak his shirt as they rock back and forth.

They break away from each other after a few minutes, Noah turning to let Lee try to wipe their tears without ruining their eyeliner as he swipes his own away with the heels of his palms. They turn back to each other with tight, abashed closed-mouth half-smiles, letting out matching embarrassed chuckles.

He slumps against the wall and they stand, shoulders grazing, gazing at the night sky. “Y’know, it’s strange to see you here, because I associate Philly with you first, Leanne,” Noah ponders lazily, “But Vermont strangely suits you.”

There’s that bitter feeling again. Lee lights another smoke (having lost their previous to the hug) and follows the smoke trail as it draws circles around the distant stars above, shining bright as though they’re watching from somewhere far, far from civilization.

There’s something you don’t get in Philly - that feeling of awe, of being just a molecule amidst the inconceivable mass of this universe, of every worry and problem being an ant to a continent, and you’re just trying to live your life to survive to the next and the most you can do is just live and love it. There’s something they’d missed for years being away from the far Northeast, something they take for granted until quiet, gentle moments like this. They don’t share any of that with Noah. Instead, they reply: “Noor’s rich parents bought her a house here, and she took me with her.”

“How long?” Noah sighs. He sounds dreamy, on the verge of sleep, eyes closed, body leaning firmly against theirs.

“Nearly five years, now.”

Noah’s eyes snap open, a smirk spreading his face like wildfire, words flowing faster than Lee can even brace for the hit. “Five years of Vermont Cheddar’s done wonders for that ass,” he snarks.

There it fucking is, the other fucking shoe. Leave it to him to open his stupid fucking mouth at a moment like this. Here they are, opening up about shit they’d barely even told their best friend, crying about their dead family together, and he’s making caveman-brain comments about their body.

Lee kicks off the wall, dislodging Noah’s resting body, flicking their unfinished cigarette at the ground. If there’s a God, he’ll make the ash ruin Noah’s squeaky-clean white Vans.

They feel an absolute idiot for trusting this idiot, for choosing these feelings to entrust to him. Should’ve known better. “With as much disrespect as possible: fuck you, Noah,” Lee spits at Noah’s stumbling form before jerking open the bar door, slamming it shut behind them.

Note to future self (which will inevitably be forgotten and ignored): beware the Archives after hours - it’s completely shot and always devolves to the same bullshit. Yes, every time. Do not be fooled by the arcade machines - they are half broken and will not save you.

Hank and Roy left after chugging their first and only beers in under a minute the way Frank and Charlie shovel down cat food before bed on Always Sunny. Mike’s sniffed out that one gruff DL crew guy that’s seemingly copy-pasted onto each tour that comes through town and is working on enticing him to go back to his place above Ouroboros with that fucking slick grin of his (“It’s only around the corner, they’ll be none the wiser”). Nobody’s behind the bar, because it’s easier for Donny to just let people serve themselves - not like afterhours is official or legal here, anyway - so why would he bother serving?

Everyone’s broken off into small groups or pairs, and Lee? Lee’s nursing their fourth whiskey, stuck finishing the shitty fries Noor always orders after she’s had her first drink, the same shitty ones she eats like, five of before pushing them away in disgust.

The floor is sticky, left to be cleaned by the opening staff, and more than half the bar’s got their wax pens out, making the whole place smell like wet dog. Like the top note of a sick perfume resting above the heart note of the sweat of thirty slightly-too-warm people. Eau de metalhead. They really oughta turn off the heat in this place already - it’s fucking June.

It’s not the heat that’s got Lee absolutely boiling, though, no, that would be too simple. It’s that among this absolute hellscape, Noah is ten feet away, laughing like all that shit outside just didn’t happen. He’s fucking with the glitchy Ms. Pac-Man machine with Nicholas. He’s shotgunning beers with Mike and Mike’s newest conquest. He’s not looking at Lee.

“- and after all that, like we had a moment, and after all that -” Lee laments to Noor, “For fuck’s sake, bitch, will you quit making eyes at Folio for one second?”

Greta Van Fleet’s “Heat Above” is playing over the tinny speaker, and Noor’s distracted “uh huh” as she bops along is tell enough for Lee. The bitch is gone.

“Fuck’s sake, Noor, you really gotta fuck the drummer every time?” Lee hisses, reaching blindly behind the bar for the whiskey they’d set in arm’s reach. Noor doesn’t hear them. Noor is too busy being her beautiful self, flicking a chunk of perfect raven curls behind her shoulder. Lee watches in horror as Folio presents the other tell that Noor’s one-hundred-percent gone for the night, something Lee has only seen happen genuinely, unironically in two situations - one in movies, and the other when Noor flirts with men: Folio fucking wiggles his eyebrows at her.

There’s the whiskey. Goddamn, do they need another drink. Somewhere behind them, Noah cackles. Nails on a fucking chalkboard.

Can you hear that dreadful sound? Fire still burning on the ground, Josh Kiszka screeches. You, or the other one, Josh? thinks Lee as they pour themselves another drink.

They turn, ready to shoot Noah a dirty look, and the fucker winks at them. They down their three fingers in one go and push off their stool towards the toilets.

Their vision swims, not from the five whiskeys, not from getting up too quickly, but from the pins and needles of bitter fury tearing at their chest.

It’s not that Noah’s enjoying himself. Good for him. It’s not that he’d been a vulgar dick, either, because they’re pretty sure that wasn’t the first time they’d gotten the “wonders for your ass” dig from him before.

It’s that they’d allowed him a single moment of benignant sincerity for probably the first time ever, let him in, showed their tender belly, and then he’d gone and stabbed them where they’re most vulnerable. That he’d pissed on any genuine connection they’d been building up to then.

It’s not that Noah was an asshole tonight, that will never change. That’s the sky blue. It’s that this time, Noah actually hurt their feelings.

Lee shuts the bathroom door with their back, melds themself against the metal, digging the heels of their palms into their eyes as they let out a dry, heavy, tear-less sob. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale -

The second sob drags up with it hot spittle, sending them coughing and gagging into the sink. It’s that it’s all their own fault for letting him in, for getting comfortable in the first place. That’s what you get when you let Noah in.

How fucking shot in the head do they have to be to expect anything less than this bullshit? Because this isn’t how someone with an ounce of sensibility would handle this, right? RIGHT?! Hey, let’s go trauma dump on this dude who’s never had a kind thing to say to you. Let’s go talk about our feeeeeeelings with the guy who still deadnames you FOUR years after you changed it everywhere. Oh, he gave you a hug? Oh, he shared his little emo feels with you too? Awwww. Ohhhh. Cute. Fucking. Idiot.

Their eyeliner is smeared, their skin blotchy and red, and their hair absolutely refuses to lay well despite all their efforts to make it behave. Under the overly-bright fluorescent lighting, they can see the blue of the vein bulging in their forehead. They look like they’ve been beaten, or fucked, or both at once. Lee swears their reflection grins at them then.

They need to clean themself up and get another drink, and then they need to punch Noah in his stupid, smug, sexy face. Another dry heave works up their throat. No, no, this isn’t right. This is neither healthy nor productive. They can’t keep going on like this, can’t keep allowing themself in situations where the rage literally makes them sick.

Lee sighs, rubbing a hand over their tired face, presentability be damned. They need to go home; just crawl into bed and sleep it off and avoid any gatherings Noah might be at forever. They should probably cut off their mutual friends, too and never step foot in Richmond again, or L.A. for that matter, though they’d never willingly end up in that helltown, anyway.

Home. Bed. Sleep. Never see Noah again.

But when they swing open the bathroom door, he’s on the other side.

There’s a beat as he takes them in, and a small part of Lee thinks, hopes, prays he’ll grant mercy this time. Just this once. Look at me. Please. Mercy.

But prayer’s so unreliable, and Noah is so, so consistent. “Lookin’ good, doll,” mocks the physical manifestation of No Sense Of Time And Place. “Whoa -”

This is it. Their chest is exploding, they can’t breathe, they’ve lost their eyesight. This is how they die.

Noah catches their wrist inches from his face before Lee even realizes they’ve swung.

They let out a hysterical laugh, ripping their arm from his like it’s a third-degree burn, backpedaling so fast from his advance they nearly trip over their own legs.

He’s all, “hey, whoa,” he’s all, “hey, Leanne,” but they’re too busy contending with the fact that each breath feels like a leaf blower full of nails tearing their windpipe. “Leanne, what -” he says, but they knew this wasn’t normal the moment Noah started grabbing at their shoulders, at their face, the moment they couldn’t hear him pleading for them to get themself together. “Leanne, c’mon, Leanne, please,” he’s begging somewhere, but they can’t stop fucking laughing.

God, but doesn’t he sound so tender, so pretty when he pleads?

This isn’t normal, right? Like, what’s that saying about doing the same thing over and over? Right?????? And now there’s godforsaken tears pricking at their eyes and they can’t stop and -

They need him to stop. They need him to shut up, and they need him out of their field of vision. But he keeps getting in front of them, putting his hands on them and Lee wants them off but they can’t feel their hands -

Someone’s released an anguished, animalistic scream somewhere. Everything’s too tight. There’s arms caging them in, they need out, they need escape why are there arms fucking everywhere -

“Fucking, ow!” Noah’s left hand flies up to nurse his jaw where they’d managed to catch him, but the right finds purchase in their hair immediately, like it’s an instinct, like it belongs there. He yanks, hard, forcing their face to his as he crowds them against the sink.

There’s something grounding, calming in the pain at the back of their head, something reassuring in the way he’d tear their hair out at a moment’s notice. He’s so close they can smell the spearmint of the gum he’d been chewing under the liquor and smoke, nose nearly pressed to theirs. His hair tickles their cheekbones like a balm, like a promise.

He’s a vision of fury, all tightly clenched jaw and steely eyes, scrunched nose and furrowed brows. “What the fuck is your problem?” he sternly asks, voice quiet, chillingly flat.

An involuntary, scornful bark of a laugh escapes Lee’s throat. “You wanna know my problem? YOU’RE my fucking problem! I haven’t known a moment of peace since I met you!” they shout through their sob-torn throat. The dam bursts, there’s no stopping this train now, whichever metaphor you prefer. “You’re absolutely insufferable! No regard for anyone but yourself! You wanna know why people leave you in the dust and never look back? Because you’re the fucking worst! You’re a fucking mistake!”

Noah’s mouth twists that smirk again, the one Lee has been on the receiving end of too many times tonight, but there’s no joy behind it; his eyes are empty and cold and tinged red, omnipotent in the weight of his gaze. He doesn’t even need to say it. That cruel twist of his mouth is enough. Takes one to know one.

His lips are on Lee’s in an instant, barely connected for a second before he forces his tongue past their teeth, his free hand wandering anywhere he can reach. His hips push them into the porcelain, fingers brushing up the exposed skin of their belly, hand sliding overtop their binder. A harsh breath huffs out his nose as he passes a thumb over their hard nipple through the thick fabric, pulling a tiny, pathetic whine from Lee’s throat.

There’s a beat when he pulls their head an inch back, hovering by their ear once more, hips giving a miniscule, barely there roll. Then, in a movement so quick Lee can barely acknowledge it happened, he rips their arm round their back, flipping them so fast they’d faceplant into the mirror were it not for the grip he keeps steady on their head, fingers tangled in their hair, nails digging at their scalp. Hips press them into the edge of the sink, fingers pull their head to his shoulder, the arch lighting a tight burn in their spine.

Mirror Lee looks like roadkill, and Mirror Noah looks like the vulture circling round their corpse, towering over them voraciously.

He rolls his hard, clothed cock into the small of their back. “Look at what you do to me,” he croons. A hand trailing fingers dangerously slow up their bare leg. “Look at what a mess you are.” His hand trails lazily from their hair to their throat, nestling there like a puzzle piece fit into place, forcing their gaze on the mirror. “Look at you.” He trails kisses behind Lee’s ear, down their neck, the trail of saliva he leaves behind chilling in the stale air. “Look at you.” His fingers brush their belly. “Look at you.” A kiss on their pulse point. Lee lets out an anxious shudder at the fingers dipping below the waistband of their shorts.

His eyes snap to meet theirs in the mirror, and Lee’s screwed because Noah’s just caught them soaking wet. They can’t force themself to blink, to look away from Noah’s piercing gaze as he slowly, predatorily brings his mouth to their ear. Punctuated by a single flick of their clit, through barely-parted kiss-bruised lips, he whispers: “Slut.”

It’s then their mind catches up to their body, and as their face hits the cold, wet porcelain of the sink bowl, they realize they hadn’t fully caught their breath. They heave as the stoneware digs into the bottom of their ribs, muscles spasming over their whole body as they consciously force them to relax.

The heel of his palm pushes at the base of their skull, his fingers tangling tight in their hair once more, and a single, foreboding finger whispers assurance as it runs down their spine. Cold air on their bare ass as he unceremoniously tears down their shorts and underwear in one fell swoop. His cock prods at their hole and they, body before mind, back against him.

For the warmth, of course.

Nothing more.

That’s definitely not their whine when he slides home with a single snap of his hips, when he pulls out nearly completely, when he snaps back home again with twice the force.

Mercy. What a silly thought to entertain, what a silly plea to beg when you’re begging Noah. Noah doesn’t do mercy. That’s not his modus operandi. Noah winds you up, then puts you down. Like Lee is now. Down. Face down in the sink bowl. Like the stupid, stupid slut they are, in Noah’s own words.

They’ll never get used to the stretch, they think, no matter how many times they fuck Noah. It might be the size of him (though they’ll never admit it to his face, lest it make him grow a second head for sheer lack of space from his already overly-inflated ego), or maybe it’s that he’s just there to get his, and no matter how he fucks - slow, fast, hard, gentle - he’s never thinking about them. And despite that, despite that he’s just jackhammering, shoving their face into the porcelain with force which will surely leave a bruise, the roll of his hips tells them someone cooked here.

There’s no tenderness in the dig of his short, blunt nails into the flesh of their inner thigh, woefully close to where they need him, nor in sticky snap of his hips against their ass, and certainly not in the merciless drag of his heavy cock against that rough patch in them which serves to topple them like a Jenga tower, slowly, shakily, then all at once. They’re so full. So empty. They’re a coin-operated doll, helpless to be broken down and sold for parts on the whim of a single man.

They’re a wet mess, clit so swollen they think it might burst, hands a mess of numb pins and needles. They’re gonna be covered in bruises tomorrow, they’re gonna be so fucking sore when they pee, and for what it’s worth, this shouldn’t feel good at all, but Lee is so fucking close.

Embarrassing.

When Noah’s hips stutter, when his grip releases their head just enough for them to turn their head, he’s got his bottom lip in his teeth and his eyes are squeezed shut and he looks so, so gone (or maybe it’s Lee who’s gone) in the flush of pink running from his cheeks down into his shirt.

That’s not Lee moaning. They’re just trying to catch a breath. But, god, they’re right there, they just need something, they just need more -

Noah freezes, collapsing on them with a short, quiet groan, burying his face in their neck.

His breath is hot, wet, the weight of his heaving chest pressing their ribcage into the porcelain. There's barely a moment of peace before the fingers in their hair tighten once more, pulling their face up to meet his eyes in the mirror.

All it takes is a miniscule shake of Lee’s head for his blissed out gaze to turn stormy once more, for him to drop to his knees.

It’s a race to the finish line the second Noah’s tongue touches Lee’s neglected clit. Quite possibly all their synapses fire at once, all their focus single-mindedly on the way he sucks them, on the calluses on his fingertips as he pads at their hole, on the vibration of a moan they can’t hear.

Lee is jelly. They don’t need to be held down any longer, compliantly staying slumped in the sink, but the soothing scrape of Noah’s nails on their scalp as he presses two fingers in grounds them, turning any distracting thoughts to a static hum tuned to the note of fuck, Noah.

All it takes is a single curl of his fingers, like the press of a button before they’re falling, trembling on an overdose of oxytocin into oblivion.

With a final suck, Noah rises to his feet, bringing a deer-legged Lee with him. They’re dizzy, vision blurred as he turns them gently in his arms. Arousal-coated fingers pry their jaw open, and Noah comes into focus when his hand settles at their throat in an inky-fingered necklace. He forces Lee’s jaw open wider and spits, using the same hand to then cover their mouth. His eyes are wide and wild, rapt as he soothes the saltybitter spend down Lee’s throat. “Look at you, look at that dirty mouth,” he’s mumbling feverishly, voice still deep with arousal. “Look at you swallow that cum. Who else does it for you like this, hm? That’s right. Nobody. Only me.”

Lee chokes out a heaving breath, willing the tears that prick their eyes to not fucking fall, and he deflates, collapsing into their shoulder, arms dropping to circle their waist. “God damn, Leanne,” he sighs after a beat, dulcet and spent.

They glance down uncomfortably. His face is calm, unmarred by the everpresent lines and tension it usually carries, nose buried in their neck. “It’s Lee,” they say.

At least he has the sense to look embarrassed. “Right. Lee.”

They don’t clean themself up, they haven’t the energy. They let Noah pull up their shorts, shuffle them out the bathroom and out the back door, and walk them home.

The streets are quiet, streetlights haloing the street corners in gold, everyone with any sense of decency long-retired to their homes. Lee wonders what they look like from a bird’s eye view, or from outer space, alone together in a grid of light. What do the stars think - would they shame Lee? Would they judge them?

They stroll lazily, Noah’s arm draped round Lee’s shoulder. He looks so at peace, between the half-smile playing at his lips and the way the streetlights illuminate the lashes of his half-closed eyes. Something acrid bubbles in Lee’s chest. At least they get him like this, blissed out and pleasant before they never speak to him again. Before they never -

No. They won’t think about that. Just remember this.

Lee is halfway up the porch stairs before Noah yanks them back by the wrist, catching them from their awkward tumble into his chest. “Give me a call sometime, alright?” he mumbles, grazing the exposed skin between their shorts and shirt. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Their heart stutters. It’s too sweet. It’s too nice. This isn’t right. “Whatever, asshole,” they say. Weakly. Unconvincingly. With the weakest push they’ve got, with no resistance from Noah, they start again on the stairs.

He doesn’t pursue.

“Call me whatever you like,” he laughs. “‘Long as you call me.”

In the morning, through a blinding headache and a metric fuckton of hangxiety, Lee rushes to check their phone the second they pull their face from the pillow.

Among the sea of texts from Noor and Mike, work emails, and bullshit app notifications, there it is: Stupid Silly Man: hey, asshole. My number is still the same, btw.

#bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #fern words #noah sebastian fanfiction #nonbinary oc

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waywardrose · 3 months

Text

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 28

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, suicide ideation, fighting and making up

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: This is it, my dudes! The final chapter. No epilogue, because I don't think this story needs it. Thank you for all your comments, likes, and reblogs! Your support has kept me going. I'll post a masterlist directly.

Today’s volunteers had been abuzz with the news of Chief Jim Hopper’s miraculous return from the dead. The story was he’d uncovered a terrorist plot and worked with the government to thwart the radicals. Starcourt Mall had been the unfortunate backdrop of the confrontation.

It was also unfortunate a surviving radical had recognized Hopper. Since Hopper had been in danger, he’d been put in a protection program until the threat had been eliminated.

Rumor had it he’d been involved in defeating the rest of these radicals, who had something to do with Hawkins National Laboratory.

You didn’t bother to point out the specific government agency had been conveniently omitted. Same with the terrorist organization. Over sandwiches in the courtyard, Steve said Hawkins Lab had been closed for over a year when Starcourt’s fire occurred.

Nevertheless, while there had been casualties at Starcourt, they’d been few. Everyone considered Hopper a local hero.

A few volunteers discussed Eddie, too. They felt sorry for him and insisted they’d never believed those ugly rumors. Eddie was an orphan who’d been taken in by his uncle Wayne. Wasn’t that sad? Why, they’d known Wayne Munson for years! Wayne was an upright person. A veteran, too. There was no way he would’ve tolerated Devil-worship under his roof.

Those horrible classmates — bullies, really — must’ve targeted Eddie because he was different. Being different wasn’t a crime! Besides, Eddie had never hurt anyone. He performed at The Hideout with his little band all the time. One volunteer knew The Hideout’s owner, Cliff, who said Eddie was a good, if weird, kid.

You’d nodded and hummed in agreement while sorting donated home goods. There was no point in calling them hypocrites. Perhaps some of them weren’t. You wished you’d gone to that town hall meeting with your parents. Then you’d be able to pick out the liars.

On the way home in Steve’s car, Robin turned in the front seat to face you.

“You know, people want to be on the winning side. They like to think of themselves as smart enough to know who’s telling the truth.”

“But they were blinded by fear,” you said in agreement. “And looking for someone to blame.”

Steve said, “Like the pilgrims burning all the witches in Salem.”

You and Robin shared a look. He was close enough.

“Yup,” she said.

He appeared proud to have contributed to the conversation.

Robin rested her chin on her forearm.

“Eddie’s lucky you found him before anyone else.”

“Outside of the military, yeah, I guess.” You offered a bitter grin. “Who knows what they would’ve done to him if he’d survived Vecna.”

Though you don’t think he would have. Most likely, he would’ve dropped dead with the rest of the hivemind. If you hadn’t died from taking part of Vecna’s curse earlier, you might’ve shared that fate.

Steve said, “God, I’m so glad that fuckface’s dead.”

“Me too.”

“Me three,” Robin said with a grin.

Once at Steve’s, you three talked about dinner. Steve had pulled everything this morning to make a pan of baked ziti with roasted broccoli on the side. Robin made a disgusted face at the mention of a vegetable. You laughed at her scrunched nose and tongue poking out. Robin exclaimed eating broccoli was like eating green farts while Steve opened the front door.

Classical music played from the sunroom’s stereo system.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve said, projecting his voice as he tossed his keys into the bowl on the foyer table.

The music cut off, leaving a silence that felt as if you needed to pop your ears.

Robin kicked off her shoes and hung her jacket on an empty hanger in the closet. She reached for yours as Eddie jogged across the living room.

“Hey, good day?” He didn’t wait for a reply as he said to Steve, “I know this is a pain in the ass, but would you take me to my van? I want to do it before it gets dark. It’s on Coal Mill.”

“Dude, I gotta start dinner.”

Robin held up her hands when Eddie looked at her.

“No license. And the last time I tried to cook in that kitchen, I almost set everything on fire.”

Steve smirked.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah? Tell that to your smoke detector that wouldn’t shut up for fifteen minutes.”

You snorted to hide the pang at being Eddie’s last choice and shrugged your jacket back onto your shoulders.

“I guess that leaves me.”

With a pat to your pockets, confirming you had your wallet and keys, you left the house. Eddie bumbled out the front door a minute later, swinging on a navy sport coat that was a size too big. It clashed with his green track pants and untied blue sneakers.

You kept your comments to yourself as you unlocked your car and got behind the wheel. Eddie sat in the passenger seat as you started the engine. The stereo came to life. The Sisters of Mercy simmered through the speakers. You hit the power button, cutting them off.

Sounding amused, Eddie said, “I haven’t heard that in a while.”

“I was in the mood for them the other day.”

“You can turn it back on, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine.” You shifted the car into Drive. “How do I get to Coal Mill?”

“Uh, take a left. We’ll go the back way.”

You nodded and pulled onto the street. He tied his sneakers. At the first intersection, he directed you to go left. The evening sun’s golden light flickered between the trees. This far from the nexus, the woods appeared unaffected by the poisonous ash. You mentioned it. Eddie asked how downtown was faring.

You lifted a shoulder.

“It’s like a war zone and a natural disaster had a horrible, mangled baby.”

He laughed. “Vivid.”

“There’re construction crews all over, and the school gets dusty overnight. We have to cover everything with sheets before we leave. People sleep with masks on.”

“What a nightmare.”

You nodded as you passed the turnoff to Sattler’s Quarry.

After that, the road narrowed and twisted. Eddie navigated you through more intersections and over train tracks. You passed farmhouses with fields of growing corn and pastures for cattle. He had you take a road into the woods where squat houses sat close together.

The road dead-ended with Coal Mill Road T-ing into it. Behind the houses, sunlight reflected off rippling water. He advised you to park in the gravel at the side of the road; his van wasn’t far. You found a wide, flat section and stopped the car. The peaceful neighborhood didn’t seem the place to stash a van.

You then recognized the house reflected in the rearview mirror as the one from the broadcast identifying Eddie as a suspect. That had been a shitty day. Even for you.

Eddie opened the passenger door. You blinked out of the memory, unlatched your seatbelt, and got out of the car. He was quiet as you came to his side. His grim face had you reaching for his hand.

He stiffened at the touch.

You recoiled and looked away. Rather than the quiet hurt you expected, though you were hurt, this white-hot feeling spread through you. Your jaw locked and vision narrowed. Each inhale became deliberate. You wanted to claw at his pretty face.

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

That pretty face became dismissive, and he stepped onto the road towards the woods.

Over his shoulder, he asked, “What do you mean, what’s my problem?”

“You’re…” You struggled to find a word as you followed, but the only one came. “Skittish. I don’t know.”

“I’m not skittish.”

A few yards down from your car, he separated two shrubs to reveal parallel tire ruts in the grass.

“You are!” You waved a hand at his back. “You are. You won’t sit next to me. You won’t touch me. Not that I expect you to be all over me, but you don’t reach for me.”

He stepped between the shrubs and held one back for you.

“I—”

“I take your hand, you flinch.” You tramped into the underbrush and onto a rut. “I sit next to you, you make sure there’s plenty of space between us. I make a move, and it’s always wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” he said, letting the shrub go.

“Really?”

He went to the other rut. You stopped to glare at him.

Did he not see the irony of maintaining four feet of distance?

“Really?”

“I…” He frowned, though he continued walking. “I don’t want to crowd you.”

“Eddie, you’ve had your dick in me.” You resumed walking. “And I’ve never pushed you away.”

In fact, you had only pushed him away when he’d been under Vecna’s control. When it was just the two of you, the thought never crossed your mind.

He sighed.

“I’ve needed space.”

“Then tell me that. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” That heat inside you vanished. “You’re not obligated to… to do anything.”

“No, it’s not that.” He stopped and glanced at you. “I haven’t felt like myself since…”

“Yeah.”

“No, not like— It’s like…” He sighed again, his face twisting up. “There’s this emptiness.”

What could you say to that? You wouldn’t diminish his experience by saying plenty of people felt that. His was different. It wasn’t anything one could ignore or fill. You remembered dissolving into silence, and how it had swallowed everything.

You said softly, “Like a hunger.”

He met your gaze. In the sepia light and dusty shade, his brown eyes appeared darker and more vulnerable than you’d ever seen them.

“I don’t want it to touch you.”

You shook your head.

“It’s not a stranger.”

He looked away, into the trees, chin quivering. The tip of his nose turned pink. You wanted to kiss it, kiss him, make it better somehow. You took a hesitant half-step to take his hand, at least, but he walked farther into the woods.

With a deep breath, you followed a couple paces behind. The ruts curved around a dead pine and disappeared behind a thicket. Eddie knelt at the far side of the pine to dig into the rust-colored needles. An old camouflage net covered his boxy van from roof to tires.

You pushed up your sleeves while circling the van.

As you came around, he said, “Look, I know you’re too smart to believe the shit Vecna said.” He pulled something from the needles. “But I want… I want you to hear it from me—”

“Eddie.” You shook your head again. “That’s—”

“No, let me get this out. Every shitty thing he said — I said — was a lie.” The metallic jingle of keys punctuated his statement. “I don’t believe any of it. I never thought it.”

While you didn’t doubt Eddie, there was a part of you that wondered if Vecna was right. You were privileged. Your parents could afford to send you to any college. They’d even set up a savings account for you. You didn’t have to worry about a part-time job. You had a car. You’d been protected from the banal cruelty in the world. You’d taken so much for granted over the years. On top of that, you were a witch.

He straightened and looked at you.

“I don’t know how to prove it. All I got is my word.”

“No, no, I believe you,” you said, holding up your hands.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“What?”

“You saved me, sweetheart.” A corner of his mouth quirked. “Kinda feels like a blood debt.”

You grinned.

“Is that a real thing?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I don’t know, but, Eddie…” You drew closer to him. “You owe me nothing. You’ll never owe me.”

The keys rattled in his hand. His gaze darted away.

You continued, “I know what I did spooked you, but I did it because I love you. And it’s okay if you don’t…”

You couldn’t finish the sentence. It was hard to breathe or think or control the swelling sob in your chest. A tear rolled down your cheek, and you swiped it away.

Eddie’s head tilted in sympathy, lips thinning. He stepped near and offered his empty hand. It was the first time he’d done that in days.

Your vision prismed with fresh tears as you grasped his hand. The callused pads of his fingers scuffed against your skin. Your sob transformed into a long exhale.

“Vecna took you from me,” you said, and sniffed back the wet clog in your nose and wiped at your eyes. “I did it because you’re mine. Because he hurt us — hurt me.” You barked a laugh. “Now that I say it out loud, I hear how fucking selfish I am.”

You met his red-rimmed eyes. He shook his head like he couldn’t accept you were selfish. Regardless of his belief, you were, but you’d try not to be with him.

You whispered, “Even if we don’t stay together, you’ll never owe me. You’ll always be special to me.”

He tugged you near and put your palm on his sternum with his hand covering yours. His chest rose and fell because he’d pushed Vecna out, because you’d brought him back. That was something you’d never regret.

His voice was a hoarse whisper as he said, “I love you too, and you didn’t spook me. Don’t… don’t hide from me.”

As gently as you could, you said, “I’m not the one who’s been hiding.”

He stared at your stacked hands.

“Jesus Christ, I’ve been fucking up so goddamn bad.” He shook his head, his hair obscuring part of his face. “I hadn’t protected you. God, I actually hurt you. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can’t even fucking graduate.”

If his last statement was an obstacle, you would’ve tripped over it.

He couldn’t graduate? That made no sense. Nothing was official yet, of course, but Dr. Owens hadn’t balked at the party’s insistence of all the seniors graduating. Had no one told him? Hadn’t it been mentioned in conversation?

“Wait,” you said, trying to remember if anyone had brought it up.

He watched you from under his bangs, eyes so fawn-like, a little furrow between his brows.

You said, “I thought Steve told you about the party’s demands.”

He angled his head.

“No…?”

“One was all the seniors graduating, regardless of standing.” You took hold of his coat’s lapel. “What did you have in O’Donnell’s?”

“A low D.”

“D’s passing.” You grinned. “You’re graduating, anyway, but you passed her class. That’s all you needed, right?”

His eyes went wide and lips parted as he nodded. You glanced at his full bottom lip while scraping your own between your teeth. You hadn’t kissed him in ages.

You stepped closer and slid your hand from his lapel.

“Congratulations,” you said before rising and pressing your lips to his.

He gasped. His lips dragged against yours. Then he jolted, pulling away.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Why would you hurt me?”

His gaze slithered from your lips to your neck to the neckline of your shirt in an invisible touch.

“What if I lose control?”

You studied his worried face in the dimming light.

“Is it the emptiness?” you asked.

He nodded, casting his gaze to the side.

You remembered how predatory Eddie had looked with the MP’s blood on his chin. That hadn’t been Eddie. Not entirely. That had been the hivemind of bloodthirsty carnivores.

“Is it…” You didn’t know how to be tactful with this. “Do you want my blood?”

His tongue worked in his mouth, licking his canine, before he said, “I don’t know.”

You cradled his jaw over the scar and eased his head forward. His focus remained to the side.

“Please, look at me.”

His irises swung to meet yours. A flicker of sunlight illuminated them cinnamon sweet. His dark lashes fluttered as he blinked.

“I know you don’t want to hurt me,” you said. “But if you want to try—”

His posture went rigid as he shook his head. His hand pressed yours tighter to his chest.

“No.”

You pressed on.

“If you want to try my blood, I’ll let you.” You grazed the corner of his mouth with your thumb. “I’m not scared.”

He closed his eyes, mouth pinching and brows furrowing.

“Honey, don’t be scared.” You stroked his cheek to his clenched jaw. “It’s just me and you here.”

“Yeah, it’s just me and you.”

You sighed.

“What, you think you can kill me? You think I’d let you? You think I don’t know my limits?”

He opened his eyes, which blazed with anger and frustration and panic.

“What if I don’t know mine anymore, huh?”

Gritting your teeth, you said, “Then we’ll discover them together.”

With your hand on his chest, you pushed him towards the van. He bumbled backwards, dropping the keys. His back collided with a dull clunk. You slid your hand from his chest to the van, boxing him in, and pressed your front along his.

“Fucking trust me.”

“I do.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

He nodded, throat bobbing with a swallow.

“Are you sure?”

Again, he nodded.

You closed the distance with a hand on his nape. He angled his head, lips moving counter to yours. The kiss stole your breath and thought. You ravaged, biting his bottom lip. His hands cupped your ass and drew you against him. He plundered, groaning as your tongues slid over each other.

Teeth scraped your lip, yet it didn’t frighten you. Let them break skin. You didn’t care.

Trembling hands snuck under your shirt. He pulled at your waist, making your back arch. You mewled into the kiss and plunged your fingers into his messy hair. His tentative palms skimmed up your back.

You shivered as your nipples pebbled.

You broke the kiss to whisper, “Touch me. It’s okay. I trust you.”

His eyes gleamed as he drew his swollen bottom lip between his teeth. He spread his feet and maneuvered you between his knees. The firm mound of his erection pressed into your belly. He trailed his hands down to your ass. His fingers met at the central seam of your jeans.

“You’re so hot here.”

“Because of you.”

He caught your lips in another kiss. You gripped his hair as the woods went fuzzy. His hands, more confident, skated up your ass, under your shirt, and up your sides. Cool air swept over your skin. You inhaled as he found the band of your unsexy bra. The earlier work at the school hardly warranted anything fancy.

Eddie didn’t seem to mind. A hungry noise came from his chest as he fondled the underside of your breasts through the bra. He sucked on your bottom lip, and the sensation flowed through you like water. Your nipples tightened further. Your cunt clenched.

“God, you’re so soft.”

You caressed the warm skin at his nape, saying, “I’ve missed you.”

Without waiting for a response, you kissed him. His fingers dragged across your breasts until he pinched your nipples between his thumbs and sides of his palms.

You gasped at the wicked frisson, angled your face up to catch your breath, and writhed. You pressed your hips to his, the thick seam of your jeans rasped between your legs. He rocked his erection against you. New heat zinged down to your toes.

Voice husky, he said, “Fuck, I missed you, too.”

He kissed the side of your neck. Each kiss became more open-mouthed. His tongue moved as if he tasted more than your skin. He pulled his sharp teeth across the big tendon in your neck, like he was teasing you both. The threat of a bite had your heart beating double-time and eyes rolling back.

He pinched your nipples harder, making your lower body squirm from the ache. You kept your chest and neck still as you waited to feel what he’d do. He groaned and mouthed his way to the artery under your jaw. He sucked hard at the skin there, mouth scalding. You gasped at the delicious pain.

“Jesus,” he said between pants against the sore spot.

As his saliva cooled on your skin, you swooped down to kiss him once more. His tongue slid over yours as his hands left your breasts. You held his head in place by the hair, losing yourself to the decadent back and forth.

He folded his arms around you when you held his smooth cheek. There was no panic here. There were no monsters. It was only you and him, sharing breath and touch.

“How do you feel?” you asked.

“Good.”

You stroked his cheekbone.

“That’s all that matters.”

“I didn’t… freak you out there?”

“By giving me a hickey?” You smiled with a chuckle. “No.” You brushed your lips against his. “I like wearing your mark.”

His cheeks pinked further. He made a happy sound and buried his face in your neck once more.

“Gonna give me another one, baby?”

Muffled against your skin, he said, “I might.”

Tightening your hold in his hair, you pulled his head back. He looked at you with hazy eyes. His red lips parted, breaths shallow.

“Gorgeous,” you said.

His gaze drifted to the side. He wanted to shy away, but you wouldn’t have it.

“You act like I haven’t seen you, but I have.” You traced the scar on his jaw. “And nothing’s changed for me.”

He met your eyes, his own bright with conviction.

“Me neither, I swear, milady.”

You smiled at the endearment you hadn’t heard in too long.

“Then no more hot-and-cold, good sir.”

He nodded as much as he could.

“I’m with you.”

“No half-assed crap, either. I mean it, Eddie,” you said, relinquishing your grip on his hair and lacing your fingers behind his neck.

His spine straightened as if coming to attention.

“Whole-ass-ing it from here on out.”

“Good, I like your ass.”

“I like yours, too.”

His eyes lit with mischief, reminding you of the Eddie you’d first met. The one who quoted the Scorpions during roll call, who always answered the phone, who howled during concerts.

A hand gripped the underside of your ass-cheek and gave it a squeeze. It put to mind him holding you against the cold wall behind The Hideout and fucking you with hungry desperation. You wanted that with him.

“Wanna go home and prove it?” you asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

He gave you a toothy grin.

“Absolutely.”

He didn’t release you, nor you him, despite the blue of the sky having faded to ginger and blushing violet. Rose-gold sunlight graced the tree tops. Once gentle shadows were now hard-edged and inky.

You liked the heat radiating from under his thin t-shirt and all the evidence he was alive. He’d survived. You had as well. He must’ve had a similar idea, because he surveyed you with loving eyes.

You swayed.

“Let’s go, Muffin Man.”

He groaned and let his head flop back.

“I swear to God, that’s adorable when we were high, but you cannot say that in front of our friends.”

“Not even—”

His head shot up.

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” you said with an exaggerated pout.

“Oh, well, please continue, sweet lady.”

“I was going to say, not even—” You imitated his dramatics as you said, “The Muffin of Demonic Charm!?”

He laughed. “I only like the ‘muff’ part of that.”

You backed away with a giggle, sticking out your tongue. His hands went to the sides of his head, pointer fingers out, and stuck his tongue out at you.

You said, “You won’t get any part of that out here.”

He fluttered the tip of his tongue.

“Tempting, but no.”

He spread the sport coat and posed like a centerfold to entice, hip canting to the side and his chest arched.

“Oh, if only I had a camera, baby.” You found the forgotten keys amongst the pine needles and dead leaves. “You’d make Goodwill a lot of money in their annual calendar,” you said and tossed the keys at him.

He straightened to catch them, juggling them to his chest.

“I’ll have you know—” He swept his empty hand down his body. “—all of this is House of Harrington.”

“How chic.”

“Very exclusive.” He pointed to the corner of the van for you to help gather the netting. “Not just anyone can say they’ve worn Steve Harrington’s tighty whities.”

You laughed and lifted the corner of the netting.

Together, you uncovered the van. Eddie gathered the netting and kicked it under the thicket before going to the passenger door to open it for you.

“I’ll drop you off at your car.”

You thanked him and climbed into the stuffy van. The scent of old smoke, warmed plastic, and upholstery seasoned with boy invaded your nose. You rolled the window down halfway after he closed the door.

With a glance at the vacant back, you thought of Corroded Coffin’s equipment there. You’d seen little of Jeff, Gareth, or Dougie at school. You hadn’t asked Eddie if they still played at The Hideout. You hadn’t asked him about a lot of things. There was so much you’d missed since New Year’s.

Eddie opened the driver-side door and hopped in. He made a face, then rolled down his window.

He turned all the air-system controls off, saying, “Cross your fingers she’ll cooperate.”

He shoved the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine sputtered and whined and chugged until something aligned, and it roared to life. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, throwing you a laugh.

You smiled back and fastened your seatbelt.

He shifted into Reverse and maneuvered away from the thicket. The tires spun in the layer of pine needles and budding grass before finding traction. The van lurched forward. You hung onto the seatbelt and prayed the van wouldn’t get stuck. It was too old for off-roading. He steered onto the ruts, tires kicking up dirt as they bit into the earth.

Your prayers were unnecessary or maybe something out there listened to you, because a minute later the van was on the pavement and next to your car.

“Your noble steed, milady.”

With a smirk, you said, “I thought that was you, stud.”

He leaned in, eyes sparking.

“I’m at your beck and call.”

You bent close enough to feel his breath on your lips.

“Get me home, sir, and I’ll show my appreciation for your fealty.”

His eyes darted to your lips.

“I can do that.”

Tilting your head as if to kiss him, you said, “I know you can,” and moved away to unfasten your seatbelt.

His head drooped.

He looked at you when you opened the door, expression amused.

You said, “Don’t go too fast, honey, wouldn’t want to get pulled over.”

“Depends on who’s doing the pulling over, sweetheart.”

You smiled, shaking your head at the cheesy line, and left the van. His attention stayed on you as you crossed to your car, like fingers trailing down your spine.

Once in the car, you made a U-turn and followed him to Steve’s. Eddie was something of a lead-foot, but you could keep up easily. He parked in front of the garage at Steve’s. You stopped next to him and locked up.

He met you at your trunk and offered his elbow.

“Not too fast for you?”

You snaked your arm around his bicep.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He hummed in agreement as he walked with you to the front door.

“Um, I know this is out of left field,” you said, “but I thought about the rest of the band. I hadn’t seen them at school, except in the hallways sometimes. Like, I don’t share any classes with Jeff or Dougie.”

“Last time I saw them was during the last Hellfire meeting.”

“Maybe you should call them? Now that your name’s cleared, it’s safe for all of you.”

“I don’t know…”

“They’re probably worried about you.” You squeezed his arm. “And unlike me, they can’t use magic to track down your ass.”

He bobbed his head once.

“I’ll call them tomorrow.”

“Good.”

You stopped him before he could make his way to the front door. He turned to you, gaze searching.

The blue hour painted him in shades of purple. Warm light from the porch sconces and nearby kitchen window caught in the waves of his hair. He was a fallen angel, halo stripped yet seraphic nature undeniable.

That felt like a line from someone more imaginative. You were no poet, though you wished you were.

Softly, he asked, “What is it?”

You shook off the thought and grinned.

“Nothing, I just… I just like you like this.”

He glanced at himself before giving you a wry look.

“In borrowed clothes with dirty hands?”

“No, butthead.” You jostled him by the arm. “I like you here — with me.”

That wry look disappeared. His eyes rounded, earnest and affectionate. He drew you in with a gentle hand on your nape and kissed you. His lips were tender on yours in silent relief, as though you’d surprised him. While he’d withdrawn after Vecna’s defeat, and you’d been uncertain about a future with him, you still loved him. That had never changed.

You threw yourself into the kiss, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Blood rushed through your veins. Your cheeks burned as the kiss deepened. His other hand clutched your hip to guide you against him.

It was easy to lose yourself with him. It was easy to love him, and he made it easy to let yourself be loved.

He cradled the back of your head like you were priceless. He held you like he couldn’t get close enough. The mark on your neck was a brand of sweet possession.

At an inevitable pause, you said, “Let’s go inside.”

“I can’t sit through dinner.” With a small shake of his head, he said, “I can’t wait.”

“Then we won’t. We’ll go straight to your room.”

“What about…?” He gave you a meaningful look. “Condoms?”

“I got it covered.”

“Sounds like I’ll be saying that later.”

You laughed, playfully shoving at his shoulder. He looked pleased with himself and trotted to the front door. Hand on the doorknob, he glanced back to make sure you were behind him.

You whispered, “Wait,” and drew energy up your body. It had been so long since you’d obfuscated your presence to sneak around, you’d nearly forgotten it as an option. You laced your fingers with Eddie’s, including him in the silent bubble you created.

“Keep close and avoid making too much noise.”

He nodded before easing the door open.

A top-40s station played on the radio in the sunroom. Robin and Steve’s voices floated from the kitchen. They remained out of sight even after you gently shut the door.

You directed Eddie to the stairs and remained a tread behind him as you both climbed. Once on the second floor, you ushered him to his room. He left the door ajar and lights off. You padded to your room, pocketed the couple of condom packets you’d stolen days ago from Steve’s nightstand, and slunk to Eddie’s room.

He sat at the head of the bed, blanket hiding his lower half with his t-shirt covering the upper. You closed the door and locked it. By the meager light coming through the window, you found the nearest lamp and clicked it on.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, sure, fine, why?”

The sport coat and track pants draped across the armchair. The sneakers and socks lay jumbled by the bathroom door.

“Just asking.”

You crossed the room and set the condom packets on the nightstand at Eddie’s side. He remained motionless, hands hidden in the rumpled sheets. You perched at the edge of the bed while he stared at the condoms.

Something was off. He should be flirting or reaching for you. What had happened between kissing you, saying he couldn’t wait to be with you, and now? Most guys would be naked and panting like a dog for sex.

With a minute shrug, you said, “If you don’t want to…”

“No! No, I do. Trust me, I do.”

“But…?”

He exhaled.

“I don’t… You should know, I don’t look the same.”

“I’ve seen you in only a towel. I’m aware of what you look like.”

“That’s not up close and personal.”

“You think I’m going to run screaming from some scars?”

He said, “Look, baby, I’m a horror show under this,” and plucked at the t-shirt.

You let out an exasperated sound. “Are you trying to push me away? Again?”

“No—”

“Do you not want me?”

“Oh my god, I want you.” He scooted to you and cupped your face. “I’ve wanted you for weeks. Months!”

“Well, me too!” You held one of his wrists. “Anything you got under there is gonna work for me, okay?”

He scanned your face, gaze roaming from your eyes to your lips and back.

The protective blessing you’d placed in his handkerchief had failed you — and him. Your magic had been nothing compared to Vecna’s power. Eddie had pushed out the hivemind on his own. He was so much stronger than he gave himself credit for.

Through a constricted throat, you said, “Your blood soaked through your clothes.” Your eyes pricked with tears. “You di-died in front of me.”

Eddie leaned in, crushing your lips together. You forgot about tears and the feel of his blood thick between your fingers. He tilted your head. His lips, puffy and slick, glided across yours.

“I’m here,” he said, and kissed you again. “I’m right here.”

You kissed him in reply, letting your greed and relief guide you.

You shimmied your jacket off your shoulders. His hands went to your arms to help tug it off. You grinned into the kiss when the fabric caught on your forearms. He huffed, amused, before yanking at the sleeves. You shook your arms free and flung the jacket.

Planting a knee on the bed, you crowded him back onto the pillows. He put his hands at your waist and pulled you onto him. You straddled his hips, the linens bunching between you.

He hauled you up his body to tuck his face against your throat. He mouthed and bit at your neck, all hesitation thrown to the side. You encouraged him with a whimper and fingers gripping his hair. His soft lips left a fiery line as his hands grabbed your ass.

You arched your back. Your ribs pumped with every rapid breath.

“Wanna eat you alive,” he said. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

“Want you, too.”

Teeth scraped under your jaw, catching on the sore hickey there. You gasped, yet refused to shy away. Let him bite and draw blood. Let it hurt. You could heal yourself.

With a groan, he dug his teeth midway down your neck. The sting made your spine melt. His palms slid up your back, taking your shirt with them. Then he sucked, and you felt it between your legs.

You ground against him — as much as you could through the layers of fabric. You needed to feel his heat, taste his skin and scars. Because he was alive, and you were in his bed.

When he released your skin, sensation beyond pain, beyond heat, bloomed through your neck. It rang in your ears, fisted a groan from your lungs, stole your strength. He folded his rangy arms around you and grazed his lips over the spit-wet spot.

You closed your eyes with a hum.

He kissed you from jaw to cheek. He even kissed your chin. You curled to catch his lips in a languid kiss. It went aggressive in a handful of seconds. You couldn’t tell who set it in motion, but you’d follow it through with sucking on the tip of his tongue and biting his lip. He shivered and squirmed and held onto your waist.

You broke the kiss to leave him reeling.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

He nodded, eyes half-closed.

“Then let me take care of what’s mine.”

Again, he nodded.

You directed Eddie’s hands to the pillow, letting your fingertips linger on the silky insides of his forearms. His t-shirt sleeves slipped up to expose scarring on his upper arms. You pressed your lips to the delicate scar tissue.

He inhaled sharply.

You whispered, “It’s okay.”

He closed his eyes with a brief nod.

You kissed the scar on his jaw and the faint one at the side of his neck. He angled his chin to expose himself. In reward, you kissed his lips. His muscles unspooled. You brushed your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I got you.”

“I know.”

You wiggled down his torso and sat up. Oh-so slowly, you skimmed your hands under his t-shirt to his sides. The jagged edge of a bigger patch on his torso peeked from under the t-shirt’s hem. The uneven texture of the scars didn’t feel ugly or rough. They were interesting, and you wanted to see them.

He clapped his hands over yours.

You met his uneasy gaze and waited, keeping your expression open. While you could offer platitudes or compliments, they’d ring hollow. He knew how you felt and how you viewed him. It was only a matter of time for him to gain confidence — or at least trust you.

His hold relaxed, then gradually drifted away.

You followed the taper of his torso until you held his undulating ribs. With the t-shirt bunched at his pecs, you could assess the havoc the bats had wrought. Beyond the patch on his lower torso was a line of bites and healed sutures on his left. A wedge of pink scar tissue defaced the right side of his ribs. Between the larger patches were claw and teeth marks.

You traced them with a light touch before looking at his face. His teeth dug into his lip as his gaze jumped from between your bodies to the side to your face and back again.

“So, this is the horror show you promised?” you asked with a playful look.

He frowned, mouth opening.

Before he spoke, you asked, “Can you feel my touch?”

He wet his lips and nodded.

“Yeah?”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“You don’t—”

“No, I don’t whatever. I’m not grossed out.”

To prove your point, you bent to kiss the bite mark on his sternum. The satiny, pitted skin wasn’t disgusting. It was just skin — that smelled like him. You nudged the t-shirt higher to get at his left nipple. You teased it with your tongue, and he stilled. You pinched it between your teeth, and he arched against your lips. You soothed the tiny hurt with a kiss, and he gasped.

You inched the t-shirt higher until you propelled his arms up. He took over and snatched the t-shirt over his head. He dropped it beside the bed as you caressed his chest.

Only fragments of his demon-head and black-widow tattoos were visible around a darker scar. You followed the scar’s border with your fingers and pouted at the loss of the tattoos. Not because they were the most beautiful you’d ever seen, but because they’d been Eddie’s.

“You can have these redone.”

“Nah, I’d rather get a cover-up.”

You smiled before bending to pepper kisses on the scar.

“That’s going to be a big cover-up, honey.” You kissed your way from the scar to the dip of his throat. “Maybe I can hold your hand through it.”

He tilted his head back with a soft groan. You angled his chin to the side and sucked at the hot skin of his neck, giving him a faint hickey. You kissed your way up to his ear and sucked on the lobe.

With a near growl, he said, “God, I can’t—” and pulled you into a burning kiss.

You opened for him as he teased your tongue with his own. He kissed your hot cheeks and your forehead. His hands surged down your sides, then under your shirt. You straightened onto your knees and stripped off your shirt and bra. Your nipples puckered in the cooler air.

His hips jerked as his hands gripped your hips. He stared at your chest and licked his lips.

Instead of asking if he wanted to touch, because that seemed obvious, you bent and guided his hands to your breasts. You encouraged him to support them, squeeze them, while you watched his flushed face.

He circled your nipples with his thumbs, his touch graceful yet electrifying. A feeling like goosebumps trickled through your gut and had your thighs tensing. You curved into his caress in encouragement. Your underwear’s saturated cotton grazed your pussy, and you wished it was his cock.

Eddie held your ribs and rose to bury his face between your breasts. He mouthed at the valley between them and kissed the beginning swells. You held the back of his head. He sucked at one nipple, then the other. That goosebump feeling intensified until you were a quivering mess.

He undid your jeans, and your eyes popped open. He looked at you through his pretty lashes. There was a voracity in his dark gaze that said only you could slake his need — and you wanted to be the only one to do it, too.

“This okay?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Y-yeah.”

With no hesitation, his hand slithered between your stomach and underwear. It burned a line down the curve of your belly through your pubic hair. His middle and ring fingers glided between your wet folds. You gripped his shoulders, hard muscle moved under his skin.

The first long stroke to your clit had your nails digging into his skin and sucking air between your teeth. You couldn’t stop the tiny sound you made. He nibbled at your collarbone, teeth scraped your skin. You leaned your weight against him as your watery legs trembled. His free arm held you upright by the waist.

Rather than circle your clit, he kept stroking. The first wash of pleasure fueled you to move your hips counter to his fingers. His calluses pulled at the hood of your clit, then drove it down. He pressed harder, sparking a sensation deeper than your clit.

Your focus narrowed to your rising orgasm and the thought of his cock pumping deep inside your juicy cunt. You wanted to feel his strong hands restraining you, his sweat-slick skin on yours, and his lush mouth between your legs.

An animalistic keen left your throat at the jumble of images. Your heart hammered in your ears. You rode that knife-edge of climax. It was right there.

“C’mon, baby, fuck those fingers.”

You moaned, doing as he ordered, until ecstasy forced its way through you — so hard, so deep. The internal throb of it stole your strength as it went on and on. You crumbled, putting more of your weight on him. He held you without protest.

“Can feel it,” he said, petting your oversensitive clit.

You writhed in his arms and begged for something you couldn’t put words to. He kissed your throat as he lay still pressure on your clit. Your cunt pulsed strong enough that your hips moved of their own volition.

After a moment, he pulled his hand from your underwear and brought his fingers to his mouth. You sat on his thighs to watch him suck at his wet fingers. He hummed in satisfaction. Your cunt pulsed one last time, as though it hadn’t had enough.

Maybe it hadn’t.

He met your gaze and offered his flushed lips for a kiss. You cradled the back of his head and kissed him with unexpected fervor. You tasted the tang of your own come on his tongue. He held your face, sticky fingers on your cheek, and pushed into the kiss. You sucked your flavor off his bottom lip, pulling a moan from his chest.

“Take the rest off,” he said, falling onto his back.

“You too.”

He smirked.

“Not much more to go.”

You let your eyes track from his chest to the wrinkled lump of blanket covering his groin. Despite knowing, intimately, what was underneath, getting him naked continued to be a thrill.

“Good.”

He blushed, and his smirk softened.

You climbed off him to sit at the edge of the bed. You untied your Docs and wrenched them off. Your socks followed. Eddie kicked the blanket away. While he wiggled out of his briefs, you hooked your thumbs in your underwear and jeans, rising enough from the bed to slide them down your hips and off your legs.

You pivoted on a hip to find him reaching for a condom. His eyes went wide with a question. Or like you’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t. You bent a leg on the bed and plucked a condom from the pile before he could.

“You know,” you said, holding the condom like a cigarette between your fingers. “I think I need to get on the pill.” You got on all fours. “Or get an IUD, or something.”

Sounding on tenterhooks, he asked, “Why’s that?”

You crawled between his legs. He spread his thighs to make room for you.

“So I can have you raw.”

He let out a breath, cheeks reddening further, and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. A thick bead of precome pearled at its slit.

“Would you like that, honey?”

“Shit, you know I would.”

You gave him a playful wink before hunching to lick the tip of his cock. He groaned through a smile, squeezing his cock. You savored the salty taste of him.

You tapped at the back of his hand.

“Let go.”

“I swear, I’m gonna blow in, like, ten seconds flat.”

You sat on your calves with a self-satisfied shrug. He needed to feel as good as he’d made you feel. If that happened quickly, that was fine with you because—

“We got all night,” you said, and tore open the condom packet.

He still hadn’t released his hold.

“Eddie, honey, let go.”

“Just—” He swallowed. “Get it halfway down first.”

You pulled out the lubed condom and discarded the wrapper. He bit his lip, looking as though you were about to perform surgery on him. Keeping your touch light and at the minimum, you pinched the tip of the condom and rolled it over his shaft until it met his fingers.

He shuddered with eyes closed and a crease between his brows.

You said, “Let go.”

He exhaled and thumped his fists to the bed. You wasted no time in rolling the condom the rest of the way down. He panted and keened. His cock twitched in your hand, but you wiped your palms on the sheets before he could embarrass himself.

With a gentle shush, you caressed his hips and ran your thumbs in the shallow groove of muscle on either side. You kept at it until his breathing slowed and tense thighs relaxed.

You maneuvered your knees on either side of him and balanced yourself with a hand on his chest.

“Ready?”

When he nodded, you reached between your bodies to brace his erection. You were so ready, so wet, for this. Even the feeling of the condom didn’t turn you off. You found your hole and eased onto his thick cock, inch by slick inch.

Once you settled, you had to give yourself a moment. You sat with hands on your thighs while you adjusted to the fullness. He felt perfect and delicious. You looked at Eddie to see him watching you, bottom lip between his teeth and fingers digging into the mattress. Emotion filled his bright eyes.

You wanted to soothe him, but if you moved, it would set off a chain reaction he’d been trying to suppress.

“Don’t think.”

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Trying not to.”

If you didn’t take the initiative, he would torture himself for the rest of the evening. You rotated your pelvis. The simple movement made you gasp. It had been so long, and you were so eager for this with him. Under you, he choked on a desperate sound.

“I can’t wait to feel you without any barriers,” you said, rotating your pelvis again. “Feel you come deep inside me.”

He grabbed your hips to propel your movements.

“I’ll fill you up,” he said.

You planted your hands on his chest with a groan and rode him like he wanted you to. You rose only to sink down a second later, never letting him slip out. His hands glided up your sides. With a hum, you encouraged him to touch you — touch you anywhere, everywhere. You couldn’t get enough of his cock, of his nimble hands, of his body tight against yours.

Your need ramped to a boiling fever, some thrilling sickness. You bent to kiss him, sucking on his lip and tongue, as you rolled your hips in a frantic rhythm. Your skin slapped against his, but it wasn’t enough. You hid your face in his shoulder and whimpered when you found no relief.

His arms looped across your back, as if you’d try to escape. Like you could get away from this desire.

You stilled in time for him to roll to the side and on top of you. He pushed his cock deep. You mewled, your thighs stretched around his hips.

His gaze roved over your features.

“I’m gonna fill your sweet pussy.”

You nodded.

He said, “I’ll make you come.”

You closed your eyes as you imagined it. Hands all over you, gripping you, going between your legs, holding you steady as he worked your body. Your cunt clenched at the image.

“Because you’re mine, too.”

You nodded once more.

He adjusted his stance, knees dipping into the mattress. He grasped one of your shoulders as you held onto his arms with shaking hands.

“Look at me and tell me you love me.”

You stared into his eyes. It was all written out there for you to see: no denial, no hiding, and no more doubt.

“I love you.”

He caught your lips and kissed you so thoroughly you forgot anything beyond him. His hold tightened. His hips minutely rocked. His heavy cock kindled that heat hidden inside.

You moaned against his lips and pulled at him. He needed to move. You’d been wanting him for what felt like years. You’d both gone through hell, seen oblivion, and returned to each other’s side. You needed him to move — now.

He buried his face in your neck, lips against the marks he’d left. The rocking of his hips descended into grinding, then full-out thrusting. He fucked you hard. His cock dragged at the underside of your aching clit. The bed springs whined every time he bottomed out.

You couldn’t catch your breath as his thrusts became desperate. He yanked at your hair to bare your throat. His long hair — that smelled of your shampoo — veiled your humid face.

He kissed his marks and murmured something you couldn’t make out. You agreed anyway. He groaned in reply, driving you down while he thrust up. The sheets stuck to the sweat on your back. His hips snapped forward over and over, his cock ramming deep. You tried your best to move with him, but he was too fast.

Then you couldn’t move at all. Your belly quivered and your thighs tensed. His cock was too much. You strained against him, with him, until that fever broke. You shook in his arms. Your jaw clenched. Orgasm burned through you like a geyser. It sizzled up your spine. You couldn’t catch your breath. Hot tears trickled over your temples in rapturous agony.

Eddie fucked you through it, holding you tight. Your cunt throbbed and clamped around his pistoning length. He cursed in needy growls until he seized, breathless. His voice cracked. His thrusts slowed, yet remained fierce, as his cock pulsed with each thrust.

He stuttered a jumble of cut-off thoughts, all of them flattering and loving. You grinned and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging his sides with your thighs. He mouthed at your neck lazily.

After a tranquil moment, he kissed you, gentle yet demanding. You felt him — every bit of him. His lips tasted of salt. His hands sheltered and cradled. His gaze warmed you. You could only respond in kind. He melted as you smoothed his hair away from his flushed, glowing face.

He kissed you one more time before steadying the condom and slipping out of you.

You relaxed, allowing your tired limbs to sink to the bed. He rolled to the side and dropped the condom on the heap of his dirty clothes. You wrinkled your nose, but didn’t comment. He flopped beside you and pillowed his head on a bent arm. The heating system kicked on. Your sweat cooled as you contemplated getting out of bed. Instead, you tucked your feet between the folds of the blanket.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie said.

You hummed in acknowledgement and glanced at him.

“I was thinking, and you might not be into this, but you want to go to LA? With me?”

You stared at the ceiling.

Los Angeles: broken glass glittering in gutters, live music every night, fluttering neon, cars with their tops down, a bland apartment with a mattress on the floor, your feet warmed by sunshine as you read the newspaper’s entertainment section, Eddie writing songs at the kitchen table.

A smile spread across your face.

“Hell yeah.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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pokemenlovingmen · 6 months

Note

Could I request some headcannons of the ScarVi boys with an agender s/o who struggles a lot with dissociation and stuff? Like maybe how they’d comfort them. Preferably it/its and nym/nyms pronouns please. I personally don’t like being seen as super human due to how often I dissociate if that gives any ideas for writing.

Hello~ so sorry for how long this took. Life has been. A lot. I don't know how much use of pronouns I'll have since I generally write in the second person but I'll do my best! I also have issues with dissociation, but not a lot, so I hope I represent things as best as I can for you. I know everyone's dissocciation manifests differently as well as what helps, some folks need to be put into a lot of activity while others need isolation for a bit, at least from my experience, so I just want to represent all I can. :)

Also if I left anyone out you were looking for please let me know! There's a lotta guys so I left out a few, you said "boys" so I went with the academy guys.

ScarVio Boys x Agender S/O Who Dissocciates!

Arven

🥪 - Arven is definitely a little confused when you first dissocciate around him. First he's worried it's something he did. Then he's worried you're sick or something. So he doesn't handle it super well the first time it happens. But once he realizes what's going on he falls into a rhythm.

🥪 - He's always incredibly communicative but tries to keep himself from grilling you with questions. He handles things with a fair bit of caution as he gradually gets a feel of what dissocciating looks like for you and what you need.

🥪 - Arven always has your back when it comes to your needs. He makes sure you're well-fed and hydrated. If you can't bring yourself to cook for yourself, of course he's going to be doing it for you. (And speaking from personal experience god wouldn't that be the best)

🥪 - Mabosstiff is always hanging out with you too. Sometimes Arven will help guide your hands through the Pokemon's long, coarse fur as a grounding device. Or if you need a lot of sensory input to help, he can also totally just let Mabosstiff jump on you and lick you half to death.

🥪 - He gets restless when there's not something he can do for you at all times and he needs to take time to learn sometimes the best thing he can do to help is just sit with you in silence. Though, occasionally, he'll ask if you'd feel better if he talks. He'd talk for hours if it meant helping bring you down to Earth.

Giacomo

🔈 - Music is one of the best grounding tools and you can bet your ass Giacomo is using every last bit of his musical knowledge and gear to help you.

🔈 - He gets you your own pair of custom headphones, whatever kind you want, one of those types that have noise cancelling you can switch on and off if you're dissocciating for reasons of being overwhelmed.

🔈 - He puts together all the very playlists of all your favorite songs, organized by vibe ofc.

🔈 - And if you need it he'd be happy to share an earbud with you if you need the one-on-one connection of listening to music together.

🔈 - If you're in a public space he's also very swift and on the spot with getting you somewhere calm to decompress.

🔈 - He doesn't really have many words for you, but he'll squeeze your hand and remind you with gentle touches that you're here, and so is he.

Atticus

🧵 - If talking helps guide you through dissocciation, he's probably the one for you. You ask, and he'll just sit next to you and wax poetry for hours. It can help if you're someone who just needs words or conversation, it doesn't matter what the content is.

🧵 - If what you need is a quiet place to come back down to earth he'll whisk you to the very best right away. He has some good spots he finds ideal for meditation that he finds would be ideal.

🧵 - Atticus has lots of little one-on-one activities he offers to do with you. He'll paint your nails, let you try things on or model for him, even just hold up a sleeve of one of his current projects for him to stitch.

🧵 - Or if you need him to just sit next to you in silence, he can do that too. Or if you need him completely gone he'll leave you alone for as long as you need. I think Atticus understands better than most what you might need and to be patient with you, and he never takes your distance personally if it needs to happen.

🧵 - He can also put together some kind of garment like a sweater or hoodie that's sensory-friendly and he will take every last one in your preferences into account. Colors, weight, length, especially material, if you ever make a request expect it to be followed to a T.

🧵 - No matter what it is, if there's one thing you can be sure of it's that Atticus will be patient.

#pokemon x reader #arven x reader #scarvio #pokemon #atticus x reader #giacomo x reader #gn reader

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

Text

The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan

Spotify Playlist Link

Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Smut. Oral(both receiving.) Face-fucking. Fingering. Mommy kink. Degradation. Spanking. Slight choking. Switch dynamic.

A/N: I’m so high, this isn’t really written I just pushed the buttons so the letters would jump out

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty: Rotting Away

After a couple of a weeks or so of resting and relaxation, Katherine found herself feeling good for the first time since everything that happened. She was calm, and she was content. Everything between her and Luke seemed to be almost normal again.

Luke was also getting to a place of comfort after everything they’d went through together. He’d finally began to feel less awful for his argument with Katherine before she’d left. She’d noticed that he’d started to feel more comfortable with her again, not afraid to spoon her at night when he woke up feeling cold, or kiss her all over as she lay next to him.

Katherine also noticed that, as they spent most of their time in a hotel room and in bed, Luke’s mannerisms would become a bit suggestive at times, the way they used to be. She could tell that his sex drive was starting to return again, but he just didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted, considering the argument that they’d had before.

His little tells were very subtle, but Katherine knew him in and out. She knew that when he would start to want her as they watched TV or slept together, he’d start to gently squeeze her thigh, or nuzzle his face into her chest, or even slowly press himself into the back of her as they slept. It wasn’t too obvious, but it was apparent to Katherine, who knew Luke’s behavior.

That night, however, it was very obvious that he was thinking about her. Before he’d gotten into the shower, he’d seemingly made it a point to leave the door wide open the entire time, and even going so far as to come in and out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel on around his waist, looking for something that undoubtedly didn’t exist.

Deciding she’s bait him, she made sure that she was wearing his T-shirt, taking her shorts off so that all she had on under was a pair of panties. She even took a seat at the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for him. Luke eventually came out of the bathroom, in nothing but his briefs. Katherine chuckled darkly, her eyes washing over him, taking her time to take him in.

Despite the briefs, she was drawn to his upper body, admiring his strong, lean build and scarred ribcage and back.

“What?” Luke questioned with a smile on his face, standing there in front of the bed like a Calvin Klein model.

“Nothing,” she shrugged nonchalantly, watching as he gradually stepped in front of her, until his legs were touching her knees.

She looked up at him, trying not to giggle as she utilized the most explicit blowjob eyes.

“Aw, baby,” Luke cooed, hand playfully lifting her chin up to look at him, “Don’t look at me like that…”

She could tell he was growing more confident.

“Like what?” she teased.

“You know like what,” he reminded her. “You know what you’re doing. Wearing nothing but my shirt.”

“I’m wearing more than you’re shirt,” she promised him.

He watched, completely stunned as he a black pair of lace underwear fall to the floor.

“Now I’m just wearing your shirt,” she grinned, looking for a challenge.

“Is that your angle?” he asked roughly, hand suddenly wrapped around her throat. “Talk like a whore so I shut you up?”

He knew how to make her see stars, pressing the pads of his fingers just slightly on the pressure points.

“That’s usually how it works,” Katherine said pointedly, her brown eyes full of lust as he gripped her throat.

“Well, not this time. You’re not gonna get what you want just by being a little slut,” he told her, fully committing.

He released her throat, taking a second to consider his options.

“Or maybe you will get what you want by being a nasty little slut,” he decided, slapping her across the face as she grinned.

It was soft enough to be fun, but just hard enough to really excite her.

“Take off my shirt and lay down. Facing me, on your elbows,” he ordered. “And stick your ass up in the air.”

“Yes, sir,” she teased, tossing the shirt aside as he stared hungrily.

She got on her hands and knees, looking straight up at him as she slowly arched her back, ass in the air just as he’d instructed. He grinned mischievously, hands moving down her body until he reached her ass, squeezing each cheek hard before giving them two rough slaps.

“Look at you,” he smirked cockily, hand harshly slapping her pussy. “Already wet… Such a fucking whore. I’m gonna fuck that pretty face til you cry,” he murmured.

She grinned as he dropped his briefs, hand running through her hair as he pulled her head up.

“How does that sound?” he asked, intentionally asking as he slowly inserted himself into her mouth.

He could hear her as he hit the back of her throat. She looked him right in the eyes, humming with pleasure as she bobbed her head up and down, cheeks hollowed out as she sucked.

“Fuck me,” he gasped, eyes locked on hers. “Look at my good little slut, taking me like a champ,” he teased, tweaking her nipples just to mess with her even more.

He watched, completely enamored as she went faster and faster, getting to the point where most people’s eyes would’ve began watering.

“Fuck, you’re such a slut for me, I don’t even know what to do with myself half the time,” he groaned, thrusting in and out as she gasped for air. “So beautiful…”

He saw her eyes start to water after a while, still completely focused on him. He almost came listening to her quiet whimpering as he fucked her throat as hard as he could.

“It’s okay,” he huffed, softly moving her hair out of her face, “I know, baby. I know…”

He gasped at the warm feeling of her throat, pulling out of her mouth before she came. She took a moment to catch her breath, looking at him with disappointment.

“Hey…” she whined jokingly.

He knew that she’d been genuinely enjoying it, which made him smirk.

“Uh-uh,” he shook his head. “You wanna be treated like a slut? You’re gonna be treated like a slut. Turn around,” he demanded.

He watched as she pouted, turning around on the bed, completely naked as she laid down, slowly arching her back for him to watch. He came forward, roughly forcing her head down as she stuck her ass out even higher.

“Oh, so messy, baby,” he mumbled, fingers swiping against the wetness between her legs. “All this, just from having my dick in your mouth? You fucking love me, don’t you? God, I’m a lucky man…”

She giggled as he slapped her ass out of nowhere, enjoying the genuine reactions she was getting out of him. She playfully squealed in excitement as she felt the sting of his hand smacking against her from behind, over and over again as she chuckled darkly, loving the attention he was giving her.

“Look at that,” he praised, hand slapping her pussy again. “So fucking wet… I’m gonna ruin you. You want that, huh? You want me to stretch you out and come all over you?”

Katherine had gotten exactly what she wanted.

“Ass up, baby,” Luke huffed, ignoring manners.

She obediently arched her back even further, head resting comfortably on her arms. She gasped softly as he roughly pinned her down by her hips, face buried in her from behind as he swiped his tongue up and down, devouring her savagely.

She let out an involuntary whine as he ravaged her, living for the way his strong hands dug into her hips. She was in her own world, completely unaware that Luke had even more in mind. She watched in disappointment as he pulled away after a long while of pulling various sounds out of her, sitting down beside her on the bed. She watched with curiosity as he exhausted sat down behind her, spreading his legs so that she was sitting between them.

“Come here,” he decided, his demeanor shifting. “Lemme finish you off like a princess.”

Katherine sighed contents as she slowly got up and settled in between his legs, her back resting against his bare chest. She slowly leaned into him, reaching a hand back to tangle up into his short sandy hair as his big, cool hands slowly massaged her breasts as she subconsciously spread her legs.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Spread those legs for me,” he murmured as his grip on her breasts began to intensify. “Let’s play with that pretty, hmm?”

She sighed, feeling his hands grope her desperately as she spread her legs more.

“Wider,” Luke instructed her. “Come on. I know you know how to act like a slut.”

She whimpered softly as she spread her legs as far as possible, feeling his right hand move down between her legs while the other still fondled her breast. She shut her eyes in ecstasy as she felt his hand slowly massaging the opening, hips bucking into his hand for more.

“Come on, pretty baby,” he coaxed her affectionately, “Lemme hear you.”

He began to tease the opening even more, scissoring her open with his fingers, slipping the tip of his finger in as he pulled downward, making her feel even more full. She sighed as her fingers got tangled in his hair, searching for something to hold onto.

“That’s it, baby. I wanna hear you falling apart while I’m inside, you think you could do that for me?” he asked.

She nodded quickly, moaning as he slid two of his long fingers in at once. His squeezing of her breast became more random and playful as her moans grew louder and more breathy. He smiled lovingly at the sight of her sitting in front of him, sloppily kissing on her neck as she started to come to a soft climax.

“Mmm… You’re so fucking perfect, baby,” he sighed, nose buried in her. “Fuck. Your perfume… It’s like fucking pheromones. Fuck, I wanna come so bad…”

Katherine could feel Luke unintentionally rutting into the bed beneath him, searching for any kind of friction. She gasped as his fingers thrusted in and out of her faster and faster, realizing she would probably come again. She sighed, breath heavy with lust as the lewd sound of wetness and skin filled each of their ears.

“Wait, stop,” she interrupted suddenly.

“Is something wrong?” Luke asked immediately, unable to discern her exact tone.

“No, no,” she said quickly, drunk on love. “Wanna come on your cock.”

Luke knew that Katherine normally hated that word, unless it was quite literally mid-fuck.

“Whatever you want, princess,” he nodded quickly, pulling his fingers out as she lifted her hips up.

She sat up for him to adjust, allowing him to sit down beside her as she sank down onto him, laughing hysterically with pleasure as she felt him filling her up. She felt powerful with him inside her, knowing that he was back there losing his mind behind her as she bounced up and down at her own eager pace.

“Fuck, baby!” he moaned loudly. “I’m yours… All yours…”

“You feel so good…!” she groaned. “Fuck!”

“Fuck!”

They both rode out their highs together, as Luke’s hand rested on Katherine’s thigh for support.

“Katherine?” he said softly, whining as she bounced up and down.

“Yeah?” she breathed out.

“You wanna turn around?” he gasped, trying to ease his excitement, “Wanna see your tits.”

“Oh, of course, baby,” she said quickly, stopping as she got up.

He cried out as she moved off of him, fighting to contain himself in more ways than one. He tried to catch his breath, throwing his head back as he leaned back against the headboard.

“Oh, look at you,” Katherine cooed breathily, her hand resting on his cheek.

His beautiful blue eyes stared into hers helplessly as he melted into her touch.

“Katherine,” he gasped again, still panting.

“What is it?” she asked him. “You tired?”

“No,” he shook his head, promising her it wasn’t that.

She couldn’t help but admire the desperate look in his eyes. She could tell he was about to burst. She listened intently as he started to mumble something incoherent, sounding strung out on pussy.

“What’s that?” she asked, not able to make out the words.

Luke quickly composed himself as he realized he was asking for something he’d only had to ask for himself on several occasions.

“Will you—Will you choke me?” he pleaded, silently begging the hand on his cheek to do more. “Please?”

“Oh, baby,” Katherine grinned, smoothing his hair back teasingly, “I didn’t know you were feeling like that…”

“Please, Katherine, I need it,” he gasped, “I just need you to handle me,” he said passionately, anxiously writhing beneath her.

He grew more restless as she didn’t answer immediately.

“Pretty please?” he asked hopefully.

“Well. Since you’re feeling so needy, I think we’d better get you extra comfortable, huh?” she proposed thoughtfully.

“H-How?” he asked nervously.

She smirked mischievously as she got up off the bed, walking to one of the duffle bags resting on the chair in the motel room. She reached into the side of it, pulling out a little pink toy.

“What do you say, baby?” Katherine asked. “You want me to get you nice and relaxed?”

“Oh, yes please,” he moaned at the sight of the toy, waiting for her to do something, anything at all.

She grinned as she got back on the bed, one leg draping over him as she settled. She looked down at his lap, amused by his arousal.

“Aw, so hard, baby,” she mocked him affectionately.

“It hurts,” he whimpered.

“Oh, I know… Here. Lemme help you.”

He watched her every move, gasping almost silently as she turned on her small vibrator, placing it right where he needed it most.

“Fuck,” he sniffled, slightly overstimulated.

She took his hand, placing it around the vibrator as he just held it there, waiting for her.

“Mmmmm…” he started to feel dizzy.

“You’re mine,” Katherine grinned, sinking down on him as he gasped.

He felt her hand wrapped around his throat, grasping it harshly as she played with his pressure points. He looked up at her with wide eyes as she lowered her breast to his mouth, thoroughly entertained as he wrapped his mouth around her nipple, looking her in the eyes as he sucked.

“I love you so much,” Katherine hissed as she pinned him down.

“I love you too,” he mumbled, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

“Hey. Uh-uh,” Katherine shook his head, lightly slapping his face. “Look at me.”

He nodded obediently, close to tears as she rode him, pace beginning to pick up.

“Who’s the slut now, huh?” she asked as bounced up and down.

“Me, mommy!” Luke moaned, stopping in his tracks as he realized what slipped out.

His eyes widened as he remained silent, not sure whether he would even acknowledge what had slipped out, but he quickly realized she didn’t seem to mind as her grip around his throat tightened with pleasure.

“God, you’re such a needy little slut,” she sighed, leaning down to sloppily kiss his lips.

He sighed into the kiss, his resolve weakening as he felt her tongue dancing against his.

“Yes, mommy,” he gave in, hungry for kisses, “I’m a needy little slut.”

“Say it again,” she ordered, having fun with him.

Naturally, he obliged.

“I’m a needy little slut and I need mommy,” he begged her. “Please, mommy…”

“What is it, baby?” she asked him, hand moving from his throat to his hair as she rewarded him for his obedience.

“Mommy, I need you to hold me,” he whimpered, “Between your tits. Please…”

“Awwww, who am I to say no to my sweet boy?” she gushed, half doting, half mocking.

“Mmmph.”

Luke was falling apart, desperately thrusting up into her out of frustration.

“Keep calling me your sweet boy,” he begged.

“You like being my sweet boy?” she asked. “You like when I pin you down and make you come?”

“Yes, mommy, so much,” he babbled a bunch of nonsense. “I love it!”

“Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love mommy’s pussy,” he whined, groping her breasts greedily, “I love playing with mommy’s tits.”

His grip tightened even more as she clenched around him.

“Look at you, falling apart,” she observed as he sucked aggressively on her nipple. “Good boy… So needy for me.”

He only responded by turning his attention to her other nipple, sucking hard.

“Such a good boy.”

“That’s me!” he whined, throwing his head back. “Your good boy…!”

“Be a good boy and come for mommy,” she teased him. “I know you can do it.”

He whimpered loudly as he felt himself getting close as she rode him.

“I need to come,” he choked out.

“Okay. You can come,” she promised him. “Go on.”

Luke suddenly grew bashful as he watched her riding him, sticking his face between her breasts before he eventually settled on whining into the crook of her neck.

“Fuck, you smell so good…”

He sounded as if he were about to cry. The mommy issues were slowly becoming more apparent.

“I love your perfume,” he sighed as he breathed her in as hard as he could. “Fuck. Gets me so hard…”

She held him close to her chest as he began to finish, listening to his adorable chokes and sobs that he would only share with her. Katherine came as she felt him pressing shy kisses to her net between moans, moving aside as he tried to catch his breath. She allowed him to lay his head on her chest as she gently wiped him off with the towel by the bed.

He threw his head back as he tried to breathe, overwhelmed by the sensation as more came out.

“Good job, baby,” she praised. “Good job…”

Luke sighed as she cleaned the both of them off, closing his eyes for a moment as he allowed her to hold him the way no one ever had before. Katherine sighed as she got rid of the towel, turning off the bedside lamp as she lay beside him.

“Katherine?”

“Hmm” she asked him.

“I, uh…” he paused for a moment as he felt tears coming to his eyes, his voice deep with exhaustion but still cracking in pain. “I just… You would’ve made the perfect mother. I wish you could’ve been one.”

He feared Katherine might interpret his thought process the wrong way, but she seemed receptive. She was silent for a moment, the pain rushing back for a brief moment as she accepted the genuine sentiment.

“Me too,” she offered, knowing that was her last chance.

Chapter Twenty-One

#luke castellan #pjo luke #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader smut #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #riordanverse #rick riordan #riordan universe #adam milligan #jake abel

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 1 year

Text

18| chapter twenty-four

listen to: Take me to church - Hozier | From Eden - Hozier | Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls (playlist here)

Please go look at the playlist, I revamped it all so you can read the chapters with the new songs and also maybe give your guesses of what's coming next given the songs?

word count: 2.4k

warnings: domestic violence. hurt.

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

Billy Hargrove had always known that love wasn’t for him.

And then you came along.

How you’d managed to rotate the axis of his world? He had no idea. But for the first time in his entire life, the perception of love wasn’t tainted, it wasn’t associated with damage, scream, and people leaving him behind. Instead, love now meant your kisses, your laughter, your smile.

After leaving you home from the game, Billy didn’t go to the party. Instead, he drove home straight away, putting himself to use. He quickly took out a cassette and began to make you a mixtape. It wasn’t anything fancy, but he knew he wanted to give it to you first thing in the morning before finally being able to kiss you in front of everyone at school.

Billy Hargrove wasn’t hollow and broken no more.

At least, until he reached your locker the following day. His tongue edged out to wet his lips as he walked to your locker, cassette in hand and even a small bouquet he managed to get. He tried to compose himself, his heart was thudding a hundred miles per minute as he tried to think what he would say next, how you would react to him.

But as he reached your locker, to see it empty his entire demeanor dropped. He frowned slightly, you could be a little late but you usually aren’t, not even when you were fighting you seemed like you couldn’t distract yourself from classes, you needed to maintain your GPA. Something’s wrong, he can feel it in his bones.

Billy walked out of the school as fast as he possibly could, his eyes scanning the hallways and soon the classes trying to locate you. There isn’t any sign of you. His heart thuds a beat harder with each classroom that you aren’t in he checked as he returned to school, and soon he finds himself in the parking lot.

Your bike is not there and the bell is already ringing on the back. Billy stayed still for a few seconds, his mind going miles per hour as he guessed what reason you had to not come to school. Had you regretted what happened the night before? No, you couldn’t. You were so happy with him, he knew that you were, and he could feel it. Had you become sick all of the sudden? No, he would’ve seen it in your face yesterday, you were anything but sick. Had your stepfather made you go back to Chicago? That was a long shot.

The parking lot was already empty by the time Billy decided that he would go to your place. The place looked the same as it did yesterday but as Billy arrived, he could see a brown jeep getting out of your place. He frowned slightly, he recalled that you’d told him that your step-father would be out of town.

Billy began to feel sick.

He parked a few meters away from your house, something in his gut telling him to do it. Billy’s mind often went to a dark place some days, each time he saw a boy with a bruise, and a girl crying in the counselor's office. He often wondered if they’d found themselves in the same position he was in.

He wished so badly he was wrong.

The door to your place opened after a few knocks. Emily opened the door, her eyes widened at the sight of Billy and closed the door a little as she realized who she had stood in front of the door.

“Hey,” he said. Billy had spent days with you and her in the house, she was a little meek but as Billy took her in right now, he could see in her eyes the way she was somehow standing up for him. “Emily,”

“Billy,” she answered back, closing the door a little bit more.

Billy’s eyes furrowed slightly as he leaned against the frame of the door, trying to seem aloof. “I was wondering if your sister was okay?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Yeah, uhm, yeah,” she said as she looked down for a moment and then back at him. “She’s okay. She got a little sick and she decided to skip school,”

“She’s alright?”

She nodded. “She’ll be okay in no time. She’ll call you later,” Emily answered as she started to close the door.

Billy’s hand flew to the edge of the door, stopping her. Emily frowned immediately, she seemed meek and small but her eyes were daggers as she glared at Billy. “Wait, I can’t see her?”

“No, she’s,” Emily hesitated as she looked back for a moment. Billy frowned. “asleep,”

It only made him more uneasy, the way she was avoiding looking him in the eye, the way she looked back.

“And you’re skipping school so you can take care of her?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged.

Billy took a deep breath. If you allowed your sister to skip school, Billy knew that you weren’t okay. All the times you’d talked about how much your sister meant to you, how important it was for you to allow her to have the best childhood so she wouldn’t turn like you. He gazed at the little girl in front of him and closed his eyes for a second.

“Emily, I’m going to see your sister today,” Billy said calmly. “I can do it climbing through the window or through this door. You can decide,”

Emily’s eyes widened slightly but she quickly glared at him, straightened up, and was ready to fight Billy if she needed to. She was very protective, you’d always known that, as much as you took care of her, she also took care of you. You’d been listening to the conversation, hoping a call later that day would explain you’d the flu or something so Billy couldn’t come near you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. You just didn’t want him to see you like that, and yet he’d come to your place, skipping school together just for you.

You sighed.

“Emily,” you called for her from your room. Billy’s and Emily’s heads snapped towards the second floor of the house, Billy felt a little bit easier, hearing you. “You can let him in,”

Emily bit her inner cheek as she glanced at Billy, who was still anxiously looking up the stairs. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out.

Emily didn’t have to be told twice. She opened the door for Billy who immediately bolted to your room, his heart thudding in his chest harder in a matter of seconds. Something tugging at his chest as he climbed the stairs and then reached your room. He stops suddenly, before he even touches the door handle, taking a deep breath he prepared for the worst-case scenario.

It was even worse when he opened the door.

You sat uncomfortably on your bed, a little light-headed, still feeling hazy from the lack of sleep you’d had. Although Emily had insisted you had to shower around two a.m. and the blood from your body had been clean, the scrapes on your face and torso had become irritated by the shower, causing you to wince each time you tried to accommodate yourself between the pillows. You wanted to say it was new, that the busted lip, the cut over your cheekbone, the swollen eye, the bruises on your neck, the scrapes and bruises that littered your body; all new.

It wasn’t.

You knew that each time it happened, you’d take a day off or two, just to make sure no one saw the bruises, not even teachers so Craig wouldn’t become liable for anything. Emily could skip school only if the injuries inflicted on your body had become so bad that you would have to rest a day. Craig wouldn’t talk to you until the bruises hadn’t faded just enough for him to look at you again unless you made something to make him mad again.

You had the routine down and yet there was a new factor in your life: Billy Hargrove.

The same Billy Hargrove that opened the door softly, the same one that just realized that he blocked out every beating that Neil gave him. That he had managed to survive by forgetting the traumatic beatings he received but that it was all a lie because as his eyes examined your body under that flimsy oversize shirt and your face, he could feel every single second in his bones as he watched you.

He was scared, you could see it in his eyes. He didn’t seem like he wanted to walk near you at first. As if he was too worried he might break you. He took a deep breath before walking slowly towards you, he sat on the edge of the bed slowly, and with shaky hands his fingerpads trailed your skin, stopping methodically at each and every one of the visible bruises that you had on your skin. His eyes watered before he even knew it as he touched you lightly, to finish in your face, trailing your lips and the cut above your cheek.

You waited for him to scream at you about what had happened if you had fallen from the bike. You had the story ready for him and yet you could see it in his eyes, there was something there that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“I’m going to kill him,” Billy whispered as he gazed at you and then stood from the bed without a second thought.

Your hands moved to catch him as fast as you possibly could, even through the pain, you managed to get a hold of his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Billy, stop, stop,” you pleaded.

Billy glances back at you, the rage in his chest growing faster by the second. He knew what it meant to love someone that was treated this way, the frustration, the pain in his chest, the helplessness when his father close the door of their room so he could hit her without Billy interrupting. He was older now, he could defend you, he would kill him if he needed to, he just wanted to stop your suffering. He didn’t know how you hid it so well from him, it dawned on him at that moment where your scars came from, those he had learned by heart when you were naked for him, those he had kissed softly. He knew he surprised you, knowing immediately what had happened. It doesn’t make him feel any better, he should’ve known. He can’t stop his eyes from streaming as he realized that he should’ve protected you since the day he met you.

“I’ll be back,” he affirmed once more, moving as delicately as he could so he could lose your hold. You move in a hurry, without thinking as he reached the door and opened it.

“Billy, I- ow!” you screamed, you don’t feel the sharp pain until you stood up, quickly bending as you hold your torso with both of your hands.

Billy turned around, quickly scooping you in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked as he holds you in his arms, your eyes are still closed as you try to keep the pain at bay while he lays you again. “Are you okay?” he repeated.

You nodded softly, he could tell that you were lying. He quickly climbed to the bed without a second thought, pulling you towards him. He doesn’t really know if it’s going to make it better but he recalled that his mother simply liked him to be there after it happened.

When you opened your eyes, tears threatening to spill, you realize that Billy’s still crying as he looked at you, concern creasing his features still.

“You’re so strong,” Billy whispered. “I, I want to take you to a doctor,” he insisted.

You shake your head as you pull him closer to you. “I just want you to be here,” you said softly, your head tilting up and your eyes meet properly to those ocean-blue eyes. Both of you crying as you gazed back at the other, you press your lips against his gently. “Can you stay with me?”

Billy lets his forehead rest against yours, a shaky breath leaving his body.

“Always,”

***

author's note: love you love you all that keep reading.

***

@happypopcornprincess @hannahnikohl @thescarlettvvitch @nymphadora000 @phishyie @amethystx3 @gloryekaterina @alicetweven @frogtits1 @starloriha @make-me-imagine @dedicated2viktor @zanmorgan @queenofshinigamis @literally-a-ferret @milkiane @mysterygirl-14 @oli-leo-ska @tsukibaby1 @theshinyrock @belledawnidk @the-mysterious-miss-s @nobody-000000-blog @rlvslouis @linkpk88 @daygirl26 @alwaysbeenfamous @kazbrekkersangel @allazay101 @finelineskies @nymphadora000 @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @riffcrusader @patheticreative @bellaramseygfsblog @milenadixon @whiskeypowder @ponyboys-sunsets @

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khiita · 2 years

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this is a warning to tumblr and twitter artists + people in the interactive fiction fandom about my experience with faeinthefog/ElouanVT. faeinthefog seems to be a polish person that goes by the names Anna/Andi/Anka. they are also associated with the acct names AnnabelleShep13, sapphovonchat, andi-the-cat, and their username in AO3 is Mephale.

if you are an artist and have been commissioned by FAEINTHEFOG / ELOUANVT / ANNA or ANKA W**** in the past year, please contact me. there is a 99.9% chance that you unknowingly drew an original character that they stole from me. the other 00.1% chance is that it was stolen from someone else. for the record, at least two of the artists i managed to contact are involved in the mo dao zu shi / the untamed fandom.

i didn’t know that this person existed, hadn’t ever–knowingly–interacted with them in my life until yesterday (august 22nd), when i found out that they had been stealing my art and every single detail about my ocs for months. but what they did to me goes way deeper than that, so here it goes:

this all started yesterday morning, when scrolling through tumblr i saw that a friend had reblogged a commission of a main character for The Nameless that looked startlingly like my oc, Euridi. Euridi is a character i first created in 2013 and, just like with all my ocs, everything about her is deeply personal to me–i’ve drawn vent art featuring her plenty of times, so i immediately felt sick seeing that she was stolen, and contacted the artist.

while i was trying not to freak out and waiting for them to reply (which they did, and they were very kind and understanding–took everything down, cleared up some things for me) my friends started digging into faeinthefog, and everything went to shit after they found their twitter account, ElouanVT. in it, this person seemed to have frankensteined a fake personality, using selfies of a small polish influencer called igarosa as their face, and they posted not only the Euridi commission, claiming she was their oc and not bothering to even change her name, but they also posted my own art, claiming it was theirs, as well as multiple other commissions they had gotten of my characters.

besides this artist, who had done three commissions for faeinthefog, my friends and i were able to find four more of them. i’ve heard back from two of them so far, and i want to clarify that none of the artists seem to have known that the characters were stolen, and they are not to blame for what faeinthefog had been doing. it seems that the way faeinthefog would commission the artists was sending them profiles and descriptions they had copy-pasted from my blog, as well as sending them picrews that i had previously posted. both of the artists i talked to confirmed this. i believe faeinthefog started stalking me and stealing my creations about 9 months ago, since that was when they created their (now deleted) account on notebook.ai where they had uploaded at least 15 of my characters, if not all (i felt too fucking nauseous about it all to scroll through everything).

the reason that this freak shit flew under the radar for so long despite the considerably small size of the IF fandom is that when faeinthefog posted the commissions on tumblr, they never once said the oc’s name and rarely credited the artist responsible. meanwhile, on twitter they not only name-dropped my characters, but also (in my opinion) seemed to claim that each interactive fiction that features the characters is a story of their own making, as seen in the way they talked about Parker's The Nameless in their tweet featuring Euridi. it should be noted that in their tumblr blog description they referred to themself as a “game dev”, i've yet to find anything they have actually made themselves besides my trauma, however. here are examples of commissions they’ve gotten of my characters and the way they talked about Attollo, Body Count, Swan Song and Andromeda 6 as if those stories were their own work.

not only did faeinthefog steal my designs, my art and any word i’d typed about my characters, they also stole my oc spotify playlists as well as my pinterest boards, pin by pin. before they deleted their pinterest account, i saw that the last time they’d pinned something was two weeks ago. truly fucking insane behavior.

i have noticed that they even copied who my ocs were in a relationship with in each game. furthermore, whenever this person posted my art on twitter, each and every single time they would also copy the exact caption i had written on tumblr. even if it made no sense at all out of context. when it came to posting my ocs as their own, they also used quotes that i had already used in my own profiles.

i want to add that i am either friends, in semi-regular contact, or alpha-reading for five out of the ten authors i mentioned, and from what i gathered none of them were truly aware of this person or what they were doing either. the authors who had reblogged commissions that faeinthefog posted were kind enough to delete them after they found out as well.

speaking of friends though!!! as if all of this creepy bullshit wasn’t enough, besides reposting my art, faeinthefog would repost gift art i’ve received from my friends, claiming it had been made for them by their friends–without changing any names. i also found at least one instance of them reposting art i’ve made for artfight, name-dropping the giftee even when i hadn’t, which meant they had to go digging through other people’s blogs to get them.

(the embed for this one broke and i couldn’t include the picture, but the repost was of this art i made last year during artfight for tumblr user @/whoreromancer, with my signature cut out.)

as you can see, this person had been blatantly stealing from me for months, claiming to have made the things i’ve created and claiming the people i love had any sort of relationship with them. i honestly can’t find any other explanation for this behavior + the fact that they commissioned my characters multiple times other that calling it an obsession with me (after some digging done by my friends, we haven’t seen them steal from anyone else, for better or worse) and honestly, fucking insanity. as i have stated before all of this hurt me deeply and freaked both me and my friends out a lot. anyone who knows me knows how much love and dedication i put into everything i make, including my pinterest boards and playlists, so thankfully i received a lot of love and support from my community.

it does make me wonder though, whether faeinthefog targeted me thinking i had a small blog and no one would notice/care? wherever this person is now that they’ve deleted the accounts i knew about, i have no doubt in my mind that their behavior won’t change, and if they don’t continue to rip me off, they might invent themself a new personality and pick someone else. my friends and i have reason to believe that (despite their clear lack of imagination) this person is willing to switch identities in order to have an online presence, and we have no reason to believe that they won’t come back. i hope the IF fandom continues to watch out for each other. i added watermarks to all my art, which i think might be a good idea for everyone to do? i never thought someone would steal my art/ocs and yet here we are.

thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone who helped me and supported me during this mess.

#signal boost #interactive fiction #choice of games #itchio #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #the untamed #faeinthefog #sapphovonchat #art theft #i think those r enough tags #i've also known them to be in the critical role fandom ftr. so idk if anyone finds more comms let me know and otherwise be careful !!#ari.txt

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lnfours · 10 months

Text

sideline (two) | t.h

summary -> tom holland: the name thats always floating around campus, and for good reason. he’s the captain of the hockey team, he’s good looking, and he’s always caught up in an off and on again relationship with the president of the sorority. that’s where you come in. you two had made a deal to make your exes jealous, but we all know how fake relationships end.

wc -> a short but also sweet 2k

warnings -> mentions of family loss, language, fluff, all the feels, toms the best fake bf idk...

🎵 spotify playlist | 📖 prev/next chapter | 📂 masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it had been a week since you and tom had started ‘dating’. it was working out well and people started believing in it whenever they’d see the way you’d both put on a show in front of others. and when sarah and mia had questioned what was going on, they both happily squealed at your response.

now you sat on your bed, scrolling through different social medias to pass the time until you felt tired enough to go to bed. you stopped your scrolling process when a messages notification popped up at the top of your screen.

tom hey, you busy?

you clicked on it, the screen brightening as your fingers tapped against the keyboard.

y/n not really, just trying to make myself tired why? something wrong?

you watched as the ‘read’ popped up under your blue message. the bubble with three little dots popped up on his end.

tom can’t sleep lol and i’m kinda craving some ice cream wanna join?

you smiled, typing out a response.

y/n sure!

tom cool :) i’ll pick u up in 10?

y/n sounds good :)

you got up out of bed and threw on a hoodie overtop of your tank top, grabbing some socks and shoes before heading downstairs quietly. the two other girls were already asleep, getting their rest in before their 8ams in the morning.

you grabbed your wallet and house key out of your purse, watching as a car pulled into the driveway. you quietly opened the front door, stepping outside and locking it behind you before making your way to the passenger side of his car.

“hey,” you smiled, getting in. he smiled back at you.

“hey,” he looked over at your hoodie, “you like the bruins?”

you looked down at your hoodie, “oh, it was my dad’s. hockey was his favorite sport.”

he nodded, pulling out the driveway. he handed you his phone that was unlocked, “you can choose the music if you want to.”

you clicked on the spotify icon on his phone, going through his liked songs playlist. you let out a soft laugh, clicking on the one direction song towards the top of the playlist, “you like one direction?”

he smiled back over at you from the driver’s side, “hell yeah! some of their songs are catchy.”

you shook your head, still smiling as you looked out the window. you couldn't explain it, but something about being with tom made you feel comfortable. everything about him made you feel like you could tell him anything and everything, talk for hours about whatever crossed your minds.

he looked over at you, “you alright?”

you turned back to the brunette, a content smile on your face, “yeah, sorry. just thinking.”

“about?”

you shrugged, “just about life, i guess?”

he pulled into a space in the parking lot, “talk over some ice cream?”

you nodded, the two of you getting out of the car. you both walked up to the order window, placing your order. when you went to pay, he pushed your arm aside.

“no, i’ve got it.”

“nope, this was my idea. let me.”

you huffed, sending him a look as the cashier smiled at the both of you, “i remember when my husband and i were your age. it was always an argument whenever it’d be time to pay.”

you both let out a soft laugh, smiling at the woman. he fished a few dollar bills out of his wallet, sticking them in the ‘tips’ cup propped up in the window. she smiled at him again.

“here you go, hun,” she said, handing him his card back before looking over at you, “he’s a keeper, sweetie.”

you smiled, “can’t argue with that.”

he playfully rolled his eyes at you, the two of you thanking the older woman before stepping to the pickup window. once the two of you had your ice cream in your hand, he led you back to the car. this time, he opened the door for you.

“putting on a show for that woman, huh?”

he laughed, shaking his head, “shut up and get in the car.”

you laughed back at him, sitting down on the leather seat before he closed the car door. he made his way around to the other side, closing the door.

“so,” he said after a little while, your ice cream almost finished as the condensation on the cup soaked through the napkins in your hand, “tell me everything i need to know about you.”

you hummed, taking the plastic spoon out of your mouth, “like what?”

“your favorite color, favorite song, about your hometown, parents,” he shrugged, “what cringey phase you went through in middle school,” you chuckled as he smiled, “seriously, anything.”

you sighed, “well, i don’t have a favorite color or a favorite song, there’s just too many options for both of those things,” he nodded, “uhm, born and raised in boston, i don’t really plan on leaving, either.. and i definitely went through an emo phase in middle school.”

he smirked, “i can picture that,” he said, “what about your parents?”

you bit down on your lower lip, putting your ice cream cup in your lap, “well, it’s just me and my grandmother. my mom wasn’t in the picture, and my dad passed when i was 15. ever since then, it’s just been me and her.”

his expression softened, “im so sorry.”

you waved him off, sending him a tight lipped smile, “it’s okay.”

he shook his head, “i can’t imagine,” he put his ice cream trash in the cupholder of the car, “i mean, i was wondering about your word choice earlier when i asked about the sweatshirt, but i just didn’t expect-”

“tom,” you placed your hand on his arm to keep him from rambling apologies, “it’s okay. really.”

his eyes met yours and you smiled softly, “sorry.”

you playfully rolled your eyes, “stop apologizing!”

he put his hands up in fake surrender, “okay, okay!”

you both chuckled as a comfortable silence washed over the two of you. you decided to be the one to break it, “what about you?”

he hummed before answering, “well, my favorite color is blue, favorite song changes but currently it’s ‘take me where your heart is’ by q, because unlike someone i know, i can pick.”

you playfully swatted at his arm, “fuck off.”

he smiled, leaning back in his seat, “uhm, what else… oh, born and raised in london, i’ve got three younger brothers, two of them are twins. i’m hoping to go pro with hockey, and uhm… i was a theater kid in middle school.”

“okay, being a theater kid is kinda dope,” you argued, “props to them, they have more talent than i have.”

he nodded, “yeah, it was a fun time.”

“what about your parents?” you asked and you watched him shift in his seat, unsure on wether or not he should talk about it. you gave him a reassuring smile, egging him on to talk about them.

“they’re y’know, parents,” he said, “my mom’s more supportive about other stuff, and my dad pushes me to play hockey like he did in college, wants me to be better than he was.”

“your dad played hockey?”

“yeah, back in the 90s,” he shrugged, “never made it pro, though. so i guess he’s trying to live through me to get the life he wanted.”

“is that how you ended up in boston?”

he nodded, “yeah, best school with the best hockey team. didn’t have much of a choice.” he looked back over at you, “what about you, though? what’re your plans for after graduation?”

you shrugged, “haven’t really gotten there yet. i’m hoping to land a internship with a book publishing company here in the city by the end of spring semester, and then i guess we’ll see where that leads me.”

the music was still playing softly as the two of you sat in a comfortable silence. you looked over at him as he scrolled through his spotify playlist, his face softly illuminated by the dim lighting on his phone. he looked so pretty, so soft…

no, stop it. this is supposed to be a fake relationship. no strings attached, remember?

you pulled your gaze away and checked the time on your phone, 10:45pm. even though it was late at night, you weren’t tired at all.

“oh, i forgot to tell you,” his voice broke through the silence, “there’s a game this friday, you should come.”

you let out a soft groan, “do i have to?”

he chuckled, “part of the deal, remember?”

those damn rules.

“okay, fine. but im bringing mia and sarah.”

he shrugged, “fine with me.”

after a few more minutes of talking about classes tomorrow, you both had come to the conclusion that it was getting late and the two of you should head back. the drive was short back to your house, tom pulling into the driveway and putting the car in park.

“thanks for the ice cream,” you smiled, “i owe you.”

“you don’t owe me anything,” he smiled, “was on me, remember?”

you rolled your eyes, “fine, next time it’s on me, okay?”

he shook his head with a laugh, “whatever helps you sleep at night, love.”

you ignored the butterflies in your stomach that erupted at the nickname, smiling back at him as you got out of the car, “goodnight, thomas.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the next morning was chaotic. the quad was filled with students trying to find their way to their classes, booths set up in the middle encouraging them to join certain clubs. you walked with your headphones in, looking down at your phone as you opened spotify.

you typed in the song tom had mentioned the night before, listening to it. you were curious about what his music taste was like, no other reason. none at all.

you jumped as someone tapped you on the shoulder, tugging an earbud out as you spun your head into the direction of the person behind you. you relaxed when you noticed the messy flop of brunette curls.

“jesus, you really have to stop stalking me.”

“well, good morning to you, too, sunshine,” the british accent filled your ears, “and to be fair, this is literally the main hub of everyone who goes to this school.”

he turned around in a circle with his arms out, gesturing to the amount of people walking through. you playfully rolled your eyes, “what do you want, holland?”

“what? i can’t walk my ‘girlfriend’ to her first class of the day?” he asked, using air quotes when he said ‘girlfriend’. he held his hand out for you to give him your bag, which you obliged, knowing he wouldn’t give up without a fight.

“where you heading?”

“english with wilson,” you said the next sentence with a sarcastic tone, “the best way to start my morning.”

“he’s such a snoozefest,” he rolled his eyes, “always talking about shit that doesn’t matter.”

you chuckled, nodding in agreement, “where are you heading?”

“oh, i’m free until my class at 2,” he said, opening the door to the building for you, “might just go sit in the lounge for a little bit.”

you nodded, walking towards the staircase, “sounds like an interesting morning.”

“oh, for sure.”

he walked you to the door, handing you back your bag, “i’ll be back here at noon.”

“you don’t have to walk me to and from, it’s okay.”

he shrugged, “i want to.”

your eyes drifted when you realized the group of boys were heading to the same room as you. your eyes locked on jack’s blue ones, a pit settling into your stomach. tom caught on that you weren’t paying attention, his eyes shifting to the blonde who walked past you.

jack’s eyes shifted from you and to tom. tom sent him a nod, smiling as jack ignored him, entering the lecture.

you sighed, “maybe i should go see advisement about switching.”

“no, this is good,” tom said, “i can come here every morning and make him jealous.”

“i guess you’re right.”

“always am,” he smiled, walking backwards as he sent you a smile, “see you at noon, darling.”

you walked into the lecture and found a seat, sitting down and thinking to yourself and shaking your head as you smiled softly.

tom holland was going to 100% be the death of you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

💌 beings my tagged list has gotten so long that tumblr literally won't let me add it, the tagged list is temporarily closed until i can figure it out. in the meantime, be sure to follow and turn on notifications for @toms-gf to be notified whenever i post imagines :)

xoxo, jordan

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littlexscarletxwitch · 1 year

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hi!! i have a request for florence :)

could you please do one where reader comes back from work (she’s a model) and shes exhausted so florence takes care of her; prepares her a bath, makes her dinner and gives her the best massage ever. then when theyre laying in bed they have a conversation about the future and how they’d like more than 1 child

sorry if its a bit long & specific🫶🏼

── ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ 𝗶'𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗲𝘀

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, sfw, short blurb, established relationship, kissing, cuddling

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited, not proofread, mentions of sex (but not really), want to have kids (?)

word count: 1,315

note: thank you for requesting this, Anon <3. I really hope you like it. Fun fact: I actually had to search what models do on their working days, so that was interesting. Sorry if it's not accurate tho, I tried my best. Also, I thought it will be funny to use a quote from Flo (lol). I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you enjoy <3

requests are open! <3

You were exhausted, to say the least.

You woke up at 5 A.M., hit the gym, had a cold quick shower afterwards, had breakfast and went to work. You loved your job, not everyone gets to say that they were on the cover for Vogue, Vanity fair and many other magazines. But you deeded a day off and, luckily, that was tomorrow. Still, you had to get through the rest of the day. You had a Gucci fitting, needed to go through a contract with your agent, had to try some hairstyles for your next photoshoot, and, lastly, you had an audition for Valentino. You didn't know how you made it out alive. But you did.

Finally, by 9.50 P.M, you called Florence telling her you were on your way home. You tried to hide your exhaustion from her, but you couldn't since you were already extremely tired. Plus, Florence could see right through you, even if it was through a phone call. She knew you’d had a busy week, so she was going to do her very best to make you forget about how stressful it was.

“Baby, I’m home.” You announced once you opened the door to your home. “Oh, hi, you big baby. How was your day?” You said to Billie, since she was greeting you at the door.

“I’m in the kitchen, love.”

“Mmm, it smells really good. What is it?” You asked her while on your way to the kitchen. Once you got there, you hugged her from behind. You breathed in her scent and just that soothed a little bit of your stress away.

“It’s your favorite. I noticed you were tired over the phone, so I wanted to do a little something for you. I also run you a bath, so while this cooks, you go there and have a minute for yourself and wash away all the stress you’ve been carrying this week, baby.” You smiled at her. You loved that with only hearing your voice for a few seconds she could tell exactly how you were feeling.

“You are absolutely the best girlfriend ever.” You kissed her cheek. “Before I go, do you want me to do anything–?”

“Just go now, before the water gets cold, love. I’ve got this.” She winked at you.

You made your way to the bathroom, there were a few candles lighted up and there was also a glass of wine. Florence was truly the best girlfriend ever. You did as she said, and enjoyed your bath, which you didn't realize how much you needed. You washed all the stress away, as she said, and immediately felt renewed with energy. After what felt like hours, when in reality was just half an hour, Florence let you know that dinner was ready. You got out of the bath, put on some comfy clothes and met her in the dining room.

You noticed that she put on her playlist, the relaxing music soothing you even more. There were a few more candles lit up, there was more wine, and, as she said, she prepared your favorite dish. God, you loved this woman. You smiled at her. There were no words to describe how much you appreciated this. How much you loved her for knowing how to make you feel better.

You both had dinner, Florence filling you in about her upcoming projects. She could tell that you didn’t want to talk about your work, she knew about everything you had to deal with this week, and she just wanted for you to forget about everything for a few seconds. You silently thanked her for even noticing that. She told you how excited she was for her upcoming film ‘A good person’, in which she had the opportunity to write her own music for the movie, and was extremely excited to see how everyone would react. You didn’t personally hear her singing the songs she wrote for the movie, but from time to time, you would hear her singing around the house, and you knew that her fans were going to love her voice as much as you did.

After dinner, you both put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She tried to stop you from doing it, but you wanted to do some simple chores that didn't have anything to do with modeling.

Afterwards you guys decided to watch a movie in your shared bedroom. You both decided to watch ‘Just Go With It’, since it was one of your favorite movies. As soon as you both lied in bed, the movie already playing, Florence asked you if you wanted a back massage.

“I don’t know, baby. You’ve done more than enough for me today, I don’t want you to–.” Florence cut you off with a scoff.

“That’s nonsense, love. Come on, I’ll give you the best massage ever.” A smile formed on your lips, what did you ever do to deserve her?

You lied on your stomach, giving her full access to your back, your head facing the tv so you could actually watch the movie.

Florence's hands felt like heaven. She wasn’t too rough, nor too gentle. She was just amazing. She successfully de-stressed your mind and your body. From time to time, she would put pressure on a specific spot which caused soft moans to escape from your mouth, which made her chuckle. Still, you tried your best to pay attention to the movie.

Halfway through it, a thought came to your mind. Actually, you’ve been thinking about it for a while, but you were waiting for the right time to talk about it with Florence. It was something you two had never talked before, so you were a bit nervous about what her answer would be.

“How do you feel about kids?.” You felt Florence’s hands stopped, but a second later they were moving around your back again.

“Well, I don’t hate them. I think they can be cute.” You laughed at that.

“Flo, I’m being serious.” You turned your head to look at her.

She saw your dead serious face and got down from your back, so you two could sit to talk about it.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, haven’t you thought about having kids?” You were now scared, your eyes got watery. Did she not want to form a family with you?

“Oh no, don’t cry, baby. Of course, I have. I just thought you weren’t ready to talk about it.”

“Oh, thank god. You scared me for a second.” You sighed with relief.

“I would love to see a mini you running through the house. Or maybe a mini boy you.” She reassured you, smiling at you.

“Oh, please. You are the one with the good genes. I want one with your cute little nose.” Her raspy laugh filled your ears.

“Well, in that case, we can have a mini you and a mini me. What do you think?”

“Umm, yeah, two is a good number. But what about a mini boy you?”

“Mmm, okay, yeah we can do that, if we also have a mini boy you.” She cuddled you, the movie long forgotten. You laughed, your breath tingling the sensitive skin in her neck. “I’ll have your babies, Y/n. As many as you want.”

“Yeah?” You were trying to contain your smile but it was impossible.

“Hell, yeah. You know, biologically speaking, we can’t make a baby. But I would love to try anyway.” She trailed off, her fingertips tracing small circles on your thighs.

“Yeah, I think we should try. Just in case.” You got on top of her and kissed her lips, her jaw, and her neck. You moved your lips towards her chest, a soft whimper escaped from her lips. Yes, you were tired, but you will always have enough energy for moments like this.

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x fem reader #imagine #florence pugh imagine #fluff #florence pugh fluff #littlexscarletxwith's fanfic #requests by lovely anons ‘๑’#your fav florence pugh blog <3

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fortheloveoffanfic · 1 year

Text

Prettier When You're Mine

Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: One year into working with a young, bright and beautiful junior prosecutor, Y/n, who bears an almost uncanny resemblance to Andy’s late wife, Laurie, he finds himself developing feelings for her. Though, when she brushes off his advances, Andy proves that he’ll do whatever it takes to recreate his family. Disclaimer: 18+ This work contains dark themes, including stalking, dub-con, infidelity and manipulation. Read at your own discretion. Masterlist Playlist

Chapter 2

Andy forces himself to take up some new interests to win Y/n's favor, though her resistance against his attempts to make her a fitting replacement for the late Mrs. Barber proves frustrating. Warnings: Stalking, possessive behavior

“Let me get that for you,” Andy offered as Y/n moved to grab the strap of the large, brown leather bag that she usually toted to court with her.

Their hands brushed as they both reached for the bag and the contact made her gasp and glance up at him. There was always a little shock when he touched her, like a spark igniting her nerves for a second, and the sensation usually brought a bit of warmth to her cheeks. “You don’t have to,” she smiled shyly, not wanting to add anymore weight to his load; he already had his own briefcase hung on his shoulder and a series of documents in his hand.

“Its nothing,” he dismissed casually, taking hold of the cushioned handle at the top of the bag. They hadn’t intended to meet up that morning but Y/n had been working through a coffee break when he’d showed up towards the middle of it. What was initially supposed to be a very short conversation had ended with her inviting him to sit with her and then splitting a smoked salmon and avocado bagel- apparently it was both their favorites.

Apparently they had a lot in common; she was surprised when it he'd said that his favorite book was also Northanger Abbey after she'd casually brought it up. Y/n had never met a man that was so willing to admit that he’d even read it and she thought it was absolutely endearing that Andy was so open with his affection for what she thought was one of the most fascinating pieces of literature.

Neither of them had wanted their little session to be over when Y/n finally disclosed that she was due in court soon, so when he offered to walk her to the court house, citing that he was on his way there himself, she readily accepted the offer.

In spite of their little blunder in her car a week prior, she really enjoyed his company. Maybe a little more than was appropriate.

As they’d walked to the courthouse, which was just about a block away from the coffee shop, Y/n and Andy had lapsed into comfortable silence but just before they’d separated- her for a preliminary hearing on a minor in possession charge and him for a sentencing hearing- he had suggested that they have dinner that evening.

Not lunch, which was ordinarily harmless, but dinner which often had its own connotations.

She should have said no, but Y/n really didn’t want to do that. “Sure,” her lips acted before her brain could fully process his invitation, “After work?”

“Yeah,” he smiled faintly and Y/n bit her lower lip in response; Andy didn’t smile very often, but she always thought he was gorgeous when he did. Hell, she thought he was pretty close to being a Tom Ford model even when he wasn’t. “I know a place, its pretty casual, but I think you’ll like it.”

“Well I trust your judgment,” she quipped in return before relieving him of her bag, huffing at the abruptly added weight on her shoulder. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”

Andy nodded, “I guess you will.”

With every page turn, Andy found himself muttering under his breath; “What the fuck.”

Because really, what the fuck?

For the sake of establishing a connection with Y/n, Andy had lied about having read Northanger Abbey- he had lied about a lot of things that day;

About avocado and smoked salmon being his favorite type of bagel- he quite enjoyed smoked salmon, but not on bagels and didn’t particularly care for it paired with buttery avocado.

And about what time his hearing was- after discovering that Y/n had a ten am hearing, Andy had decided that being four hours early to his two pm hearing wouldn’t have been so bad. He’d ended up using the time to buy a copy of the novel from a bookshop across the street and get started on it.

Later that day, after the sentencing hearing was through and he’d returned to his office, Andy had deserted work in an attempt to get through the book, lest she bring it up over dinner. It was supposed to be easy, the book wasn’t very thick and he’d read the summary online for a clear understanding of the plot. But, while Andy prided himself on being incredibly intelligent, he was by no means a literature buff. It was written in a version of English that was giving him a headache; he could coolly decipher the most complex legal jargon but reading that felt like looking at a foreign language for the first time. He also found it a little ridiculous that the protagonist was using novels as her guide through life.

It was so juvenile and he was actually a little irritated that Y/n would make him read something like that.

But he’d do anything for her.

He was about half way through- though he’d probably understood significantly less- when a soft knock on his office door and Y/n’s voice emanating from the other side prompted him to hastily mark his page and tucked the book away in his desk drawer. “Come in,” he permitted, slamming the drawer shut as the knob turned. “Ready to go?” He stood abruptly, collecting his suit jacket off the back of his chair.

“Uh huh,” she flashed him a bright grin and Andy noted that she was already in her coat and had her bags with her.

“Alright,” he shrugged his coat on and moved out from behind his desk, “Let's do it.” She waited for him to gather his things before stepping out into the hallway with him close behind her after turning off the light.

Again, he took her bigger bag as they walked to the parking lot, and when they reached his car, he ushered her into the passenger side and then deposited their things in the back seat. When he got in, he noted that Y/n seemed a little more comfortable in his car than she’d been the last time. On the night that he’d driven her home, she’d leaned against the door and had kept her knees pointed away, but that evening she wasn’t trying to melt into the door nor did it seem like she was waiting for the moment where she could finally get out.

Progress.

The place that he’d chosen for them wasn’t too far away from the DA’s office, and it was one that Andy was readily familiar with. It was the place that he, Laurie and Jacob would frequent a couple times a month, just to spend some time together as a familiar- he hadn’t been back since shortly after their passing but was eager to share that part of himself with Y/n, so she could see what she meant to him.

Within twenty minutes of leaving the office, they were pulling into the parking lot of the charming family-owned diner. As he parked, Andy watched from his periphery as Y/n did something on her phone, fingers quickly dancing on the screen, presumably sending a text. “Everything okay?” he asked, hoping she’d share what was going on.

“Oh, yeah,” she locked the screen and slipped the phone into the front pocket of her handbag, “Everything’s great,” Y/n smiled over at him, igniting a warmth in the center of his chest. “This place is cute,” she turned to regard the front of the establishment, “But it doesn’t exactly scream Andy Barber,” she joked as she got out.

Following suit, he exited the car and pushed the door shut behind himself before engaging the alarm. “Really?” He scoffed humorously, rounding the car to meet her. As they walked towards the front doors, his hand found the center of her back in a guiding gesture and while Y/n did flash him a curious look, she didn't protest. “And what kind of place would?”

They entered and quickly spotting that the booth he and his family would once routinely occupy was free, he led Y/n to it, encouraging her to slide in on one side first before he did the same on the other. “I don’t know,” she quipped simply, shrugging, “Maybe somewhere dark-”

“Dark?” He frowned.

“Dark,” she determined, “Not in a bad way. You know? Low lighting, expensive whisky and you don’t understand half the menu.”

He chuckled dryly, “I’m not sure if I know how to take that.”

“In a good way, it means I think you're.....sophisticated,” Y/n returned softly, and then immediately changed the topic, “Now,” she reached for the and opened the menu that the waitress had just equipped her with and he did the same with his, “What’s good here?”

“Honestly?” He straightened his back and pressed against the leather suction behind him, “Almost everything except the coffee,” he studied her for a moment, “I think you’d like the turkey club, fries and salad.”

Laurie’s preferred order.

Closing the menu and setting it down, she propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly, “And what makes you say that?”

“Because you remind me of someone,” he offered, off the cuff, not even thinking of the implications of veering towards that topic might have.

She hummed and clasped her hands on the table, “Who?”

Andy hesitated, not wanting to ruin the moment the way he had the last time. Besides, telling a woman that she reminded you of your dead wife hardly counted as flirting. It actually seemed a little perverse. “Someone special,” he rested one hand over her joined ones.

There was that look again.

Mirth danced on her expression, and her lashes fluttered as she momentarily let her gaze fall to their hands at the center of the wooden table, “Does that mean I’m special?”

“I think so,” he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

Y/n searched his eyes, and their hands stayed joined for about half a minute more before she cleared her throat softly and pulled hers away, guiding them to her lap.

“I guess I’ll just have the turkey club then,” she smiled tightly and briefly cast her gaze out the window next to them as she sucked in a quiet breath.

The waitress returned shortly after their little moment taking their orders, and because she was one he was familiar with, Andy held his breath when Y/n unwittingly requested Laurie’s usual with a glass of red wine. Thankfully though, apart from the passing odd look she gave them, the waitress’ reaction was muted while she jotted their orders down in her little notepad and Andy was enormously grateful.

The last thing he wanted was to potentially scare Y/n off by making her think he was trying to turn her into his late wife, though, Andy supposed that it was exactly what he was doing. But he couldn't help that he recognized something in her that he’d only ever found in Laurie, something that transcended the kindness in her smile and the way she looked at the world. Something more than their shared horoscope or similar physicality. Something, that Andy suspected, only he could see.

After Y/n had so hastily retracted her hands, it took a while after the food had came for them to return to some semblance of comfortable conversation, and even then, Y/n seemed reluctant to share too much. They seemed caught in that vicious cycle, he thought; three steps forward and five back. It was like Y/n was putting active effort into resisting him. If only he could break down that wall between them, that one thing that kept her from offering herself up the way he knew she wanted to.

“I don’t think I asked earlier,” she began, dipping a fry into her salad dressing- something he’d only ever seen his wife do. “How’d you find this place?”

“Um,” he took a swing of his beer, “When Laurie and I first moved to Newton, we used to come here for date night. Jacob was maybe…two, I think and we’d pay the neighbor’s daughter twenty bucks to babysit,’ he huffed a chuckle and could see that Y/n was listening intently, “It wasn’t fancy,” he looked around at the place; the same checkered tiles from twenty years ago, the wallpaper had changed but the decorations hadn’t, the same bell hung by the door, most of the same furniture and a practically unchanged menu. For the most part, that diner had remained one of the few constants in Andy’s life; they’d gone there after Jacob’s case had been dismissed, he’d gone there- alone and for the last time until that night- after putting his wife and son six feet under. “But it was nice.”

“We used to come every Friday, and then when Jacob got older, we started bringing him along too,” he smiled and regarded his finished plate, “We moved date night from Fridays to Tuesdays.”

When he said it,Y/n drew in a sharp breath and knitted her brows, “Tuesdays, huh?” Andy nodded slowly and he could see the gears turning in her head.

Coincidentally, or not so much, it was Tuesday.

Everything about that day, from ‘running into her’ at the coffee shop to their dinner date, had gone exactly according to plan.

Well, except for that god awful book.

“You must miss them a lot,” she noted softly.

“Everyday,” he returned quietly, not expecting her to dwell on his family, though he supposed she was doing it to avoid addressing their peculiar ‘coincidence’. “But I’m ready to move on now,” one of her hands were on the table again, and Andy used that as an opportunity to reach out and take it, caressing the back of her knuckles affectionately.

“Its getting late,” Y/n began abruptly without checking the delicate silver watch on her left wrist or her phone which was face down on the table, “We should get going.”

Andy wasn’t near ready for their date to be over, on the contrary, he’d actually hoped to have a couple more hours with her. Unfortunately though, he hadn’t accounted for one thing; Y/n’s apparently unrelenting resistance. After emitting a frustrated sigh, Andy reluctantly signaled for the check, and when it came, he turned down her attempt to cover half.

“My treat, sweetheart.”

After he’d paid, Y/n stood first reaching for her handbag and coat, which she’d set on next to her. “Let me,” he offered as she was about to slip into the warm garment.

His fingers brushed her shoulders, and Andy swore that he could feel the warmth coming off her skin even through the cashmere of her beige blouse. Standing so close, he could also smell her shampoo and her perfume, both scents having faded a little through the day but still melding to create a sweet, enthralling aroma. “Thank you,” she shuddered.

Instead of removing his hands completely, he rested them on her shoulders and then slid them down her arms. “No problem,” Andy rasped, just as his light touch grazed her forearms. Initially, neither of them moved, and he had the crushing urge to lean forward just a little and kiss her cheek, or maybe her neck, but just as he was about to go for it, she stepped forward, leaving him to feel like a fool.

“Ready?” Y/n threw him a backwards glance.

“Uh, yeah,” Andy’s brisk response came after a beat of hesitation and he followed her out the door.

She was shutting him out again, he could tell from the minute he’d mentioned date nights with his wife. Her hot and cold behavior was becoming increasingly frustrating; after all his effort- learning her schedule, sharing that god awful bagel and reading that irritating book and everything that had come before that day, she was still shutting him out.

He deserved better.

In his fist, he gripped his keys tightly, only disengaging the alarm when they were within a couple feet of his Audi. “Are you okay?” Y/n probed innocently when he all but wretched the passenger door open and only barely restrained himself from shoving her inside.

Why did she insist on making things so hard for him?

Why did she have to be such a coy little bitch?

Laurie had never been that difficult.

“Yeah,” his response was short as Andy ducked into his car and slipped the key into the ignition, turning it as he gritted, “I’m just fine.”

At least, he would be, when he figured out what the fuck he should do with her.

Tagging: @polytheatrix @wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers @ambreds @patzammit

*crossed out blogs could not be tagged for some reason

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #andy barber #andy barber x you #cevans #prettier when you're mine #defending jacob #andy barber au

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dbnightingale24 · 2 years

Text

Menace In Sheets, Menace In the Streets

Andy Barber One Shot

I’m just gonna start this off by saying I’m an asshole. Honestly, relationship wise, I’m happy as hell. So, I don’t know why the fuck I made this. Lol, I’m clearly still working through some trauma. That being said, here ya go! Another fucking novel of angst. Yes, there will be a part 2, but there was no way I was gonna post a 40,000+ story on Tumblr. Sorry, but no no, I’ve gotta stop making these so damn long lol. I was gonna add pictures and a mood board, but it’s so fucking long. Maybe in part 2, if I can control myself. Also, I promise to update and finish my stories soon. I don’t know what my damage is lol. I hope you all enjoy!

Also, fucking SUPPORT SEX WORKERS!!!

Word Count: 38,125 (I’M SORRY)

Warnings: 18+(MINORS DNI),Smut, Sex Worker Reader, Dark(ish) Andy, Sugar Daddy, Daddy Kink, Swearing, Drinking, Unidentified Illness, Loss, Mourning, Coping, Arguing, Open Marriage, Lying (but only a little), Depression, Anxiety, Longing, Regret, Envy, Jealousy, Insecurities, Anger...I think that's it? I’ve been working on this story for almost a month. Be nice to me.

Song(s) That Inspired This Story: I Really Hope You All Like the Playlists I Put Together

Summary: Under the world’s worst circumstances, you find yourself having the one job you swore you’d never have. When you catch the eye of the last person you ever thought would be interested in you, do you take the offer or run for the hills?

I do not give consent for my posts/stories/works to get posted elsewhere.

You never wanted to work at a Gentleman’s Club. You saw all the hell your best friend went through and told yourself you’d never do it. You told yourself that there was nothing in life that would make you resort to something you despised so much. It’s not that you looked down on the women that worked there. You despised the men.

They all reminded you of your father.

They were older or, at least, old enough; they were usually cheating on their significant others, they were handsy, disrespectful, and they were assholes. Your best friend, Mary, had told you a handful of times how horrible the men at those clubs were. Especially when you slept with them. They treated you like trash and half the time, when all was said and done, they’d just throw the money at you. Which made sense to you; men only respect sex workers until they’ve gotten what they need.

So, you promised yourself that you’d never even consider doing something like that, because you refused to ever let men think they had something over you. You refused to be the crack in someone’s happy marriage. Someone’s happy life.

It’s funny how life has a way of making you eat your own words.

“Your favorite table is asking for you,” Lindsey smiles at you sympathetically.

“Is it Tuesday already?” you groan, looking over at the table full of lawyers eyeing you like starving jackals.

“Hey, they know the rules. They can’t touch you. If they do, they know Samantha won’t allow them back, and they’d rather die than have that.”

“You say that but-”

“But nothing. I know how worthless they can make you feel, even without you taking your clothes off, but do your best to remember that they can’t and won’t do anything to you.”

“I just don’t know why they won’t leave me alone,” you scowl.

“The same reason no other man in this place will leave you alone; they know you’re a virgin.”

“Yeah, why Samantha needed to let them know-”

“Because she’s a cunt who cares about money,” Lindsey snaps as she cleans out a glass before filling it halfway with Jameson.

“Linds,” Allison calls as she makes her way downstairs “Tim is asking for you.”

“For fucks sake, is he alone?” she sighs as she lets her hair down.

“For now,” Allison responds sympathetically.

“Love that for me,” she mutters as puts the last drink on your tray. “Remember, they don’t have any power over you unless you give it to them,” she smiles weakly towards you before walking away and making her way upstairs.

“She’s not wrong,” Lindsey echos softly.

“She isn’t, but still,” you sigh before grabbing the tray and slowly making your way over to the table you dread most.

“Our favorite little cherry,” one of the lawyers smirks and it makes your skin crawl. “How come you’re never as excited to see us as we are to see you?” he questions, feigning hurt.

“Well, you’re always catching me towards the end of my shift-”

“We could make the end of your shift better for you if you’d just let us take you upstairs,” one of the other lawyers smirks suggestively.

“Then what reason would you have to come and see me?” you smile sarcastically.

“Oh, if anything, it’ll give us more reasons to come and see you,”another one chuckles.

“Sorry boys, tonight isn’t your lucky night. Whose card is all of this going on and do you wanna leave it open?” you smile the best you can, feeling extremely uncomfortable as all of them ogle you.

“Mr. Barber here is the big spender of the night,” the first man laughs.

Andy Barber.

The gorgeous, pompous, smug bastard. He came at least three times a week, and you were always his main focus. He liked to look you up and down as you served drinks, served other tables, and cleaned them off. He always had a dirty little smirk tugging at his lips, and tonight is no different.

“Here ya go, Darlin’,” he smiles at you, making you lean across the table so he can get a better view of your cleavage as you grab his card. “Keep it open,” he chuckles.

“Will do,” you mutter, practically snatching it from him.

You hate him. You hate all of them.

However, the tips are generous and money is something you’re in desperate need of at the moment.

What can you do?

As the night wears on, the drunker they get. Some of them disappear upstairs with the other girls, while others stay and let you know just how much they want to take you upstairs. None of them are shy about showing you the tents you give them.

Except Andy.

He’s quiet as he watches you, amusement in his eyes as you do your best to hide just how disgusted you truly are and how much you hate being there.

“It’s last call,” you tell them, finally showing some sign of happiness as the night comes to an end. “Would you like another round or do you wanna close out?”

“I think it’s best we close out. What do ya say, Tyler?” Andy questions the almost passed out man.

“Oh, you’re no fun, Barber,” the man drunkenly mumbles, barely able to stay upright.

“Let me grab the check for you,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

When Allison hands you the bill, you scoff in disgust.

$512.74.

The fact that these men spend all this money, weekly, only ever adds to your disgust. Plus, what do their wives say? Do they even notice? There’s no way they can’t notice. All of these questions and more run through your head as you make your way over to the table, Andy already ready for you with his pen in hand.

“When are you gonna let me fuck that perfect little cunt?” Tyler drunkenly asks you as Andy snickers, signing off on the bill. “Someone as gorgeous as you? No way you’re really a virgin.”

“It’s time for you all to leave,” you huff, telling yourself that you only have to keep your cool for another 15 minutes.

“Leave our little Cherry alone,” Andy quips, putting on his suit jacket.

“Whatever, as much of a prude as she is, there’s no way she isn’t a virgin. That or shes never been fucked by a real man,” Tyler smiles menacingly.

“You guys get home safe,” you mutter as Andy helps Tyler up.

“You too, Darlin’,” Andy winks at you before he and Tyler make their way to the door, meeting up with the rest of their asshole lawyer buddies.

You roll your eyes as you grab the receipt and check to see if he left you a tip.

$450.00

You shake your head and roll your eyes, but none the less can’t fight the extremely small amount of gratitude you feel towards him. As much of a dickhead as he is, Andy always tips well.

And every little bit helps.

By the time the club is cleaned up and set up for tomorrow, it’s almost 3am and you’re more than ready to go home.

“Y/N, I need to speak with you, it’s important,” your boss calls as you put your jacket on.

“Samantha, it’s really late. You know I have to get home,” you sigh, fishing out your car keys. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Come in early tomorrow,” she states firmly, but you can tell she feels bad about something.

Now what?

“Will do,” you agree with a nod before dashing out.

You practically speed home, hoping that you get there in time. When you pull up, you sigh in relief at the site of the home nurse just leaving.

“I’m so so sorry,” you offer sympathetically, running to meet her at the steps.

“Please don’t be, I’m sorry. I’d stay longer but-”

“No, oh God no! Please don’t worry! Tonight was inventory and deep clean and I couldn’t get out of it,” you grumble, letting your hair down and running a flustered hand through it. “How was she tonight?”

“As good as she’s gonna be,” the nurse offers sympathetically. “Y/N, you have to start preparing-”

“No, things could turn around,” you quickly interrupt, fighting back tears.

“You know what the doctors said.”

“Still...miracles happen all the time,” you smile weakly.

The nurse just nods and gives you a sympathetic smile. “She’s asleep. She was able to keep her food down today and she was pretty lucid. It was a good day.”

“Good...that’s good,” you sniffle before clearing your throat. “You should get home. Once again, I’m so sorry it’s so late, I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it. Get some rest,” she offers kindly before walking down the steps and making her way to her car.

You’re quick to get inside and change into your nightclothes, before brushing your teeth then making your way back downstairs and into the little makeshift hospice room.

“Is that you, Sweet Pea?” your mother calls softly.

“Hey mommy, it’s me. You should be asleep.”

“I can never sleep comfortably until you’re home,” she smiles softly, looking up at you. “How was your shift at the grocery store?”

“Good. Slow. Why we have a 24 hour grocery store, I don’t know. I’m grateful for it though. The pay is good.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” she smiles before she starts coughing, a few droplets of blood coming out.

“Mommy, you need your rest so you can build up your strength,” you quip, quickly pouring her some water and handing it to her.

“Sweet Pea,” she starts after catching her breath “you know I’m not-”

“It’s late,” you quickly cut her off. “It’s late and we both need rest. I love you,” you smile weakly before kissing her forehead then settling in the chair by her bed.

“I love you,” she responds weakly, and you know she’s worried about you.

As you start drifting off to sleep, you try to think of anything to keep her around just a little bit longer. If you’re doing the devil’s work just to keep up with her medical bills, there’s gotta be something out there in this big wide universe that’s gonna help you out...right?

Andy’s P.O.V

“You were out late last night,” Laurie mutters as I make my way into our bedroom, picking out a tie for the day.

“You have your life and I have mine. Isn’t that what we agreed to? What you wanted?” I scoff, annoyed with having to deal with the third degree again.

“I know what I said, Andy,” she snaps “I just didn’t think you’d spend half the week staying out late as all hell.”

“Yeah well, you have your fun and I have my fun. I don’t say anything to you when you spend all night out, and I have to hear about it, do I? You cheated, you said you wanted an open marriage, and you said you wanted a divorce when he graduates. From what I can tell, you’re getting everything you want,” I smile mischievously at her.

God, I love seeing just how much she hates living with the choices shes made.

“I didn’t think I’d barely see you. The only time I see you is dinner and when we’re taking Jacob out.”

“That’s what you wanted!” I snap, finally hitting my boiling point with her.

“I know, Andy! I just-”

“Then shut up and drop it!”

It’s not like I mean to lose my temper with her, but I’m also done keeping my cool. During Jacob’s trial, she gave up on us, not me. She got caught cheating, not me. She stopped believing in Jacob, not me. She demanded an open marriage and now bitches about it every week. Why the hell should I have to play nice? Why the hell should I care that she’s upset?

She didn’t give a fuck when I was.

“You two fighting again?” Jacob asks lazily as I make my way into the kitchen.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, bud. Did you study for that exam?”

“Yeah, but mom didn’t wanna review any of it with me.”

“She didn’t want to or you didn’t want to ask her?”

“She didn’t want to. I asked her while she was watching some Hallmark movie and she said it wasn’t a good time. I asked her again an hour later, after her third glass of wine, and she told me to ask you when you got home.”

“She knows I work late,” I mutter, irritation over childish behavior showing itself. “Well, just go over the notes at school, I’m sure you’re gonna do great. You coming home for dinner?”

“No, because you won’t be home and having dinner alone with her sucks. Sarah’s parents have been inviting me over a lot anyway, so I figured I’ll just hangout there we’ll go to a party at Sam’s.”

“Whoa, when did you tell me about a party?”

“I didn’t think you’d mind since you’re always working and mom likes to pretend we don’t exist.”

“Be that as it may,” I bite, swallowing the pain I feel at how out of control all of this is getting, “you don’t make choices like that without asking us first. Who’s gonna be at this party?”

“Dad, I’m not 10 years old. I know how to-”

“That’s not the point here, bud. I know you’re almost out of the house and off to college, but for the time being, you’re still a child and living in this house. Now, who’s gonna be at this party?”

“I don’t know, half the class,” he sighs, frustrated with me. Probably frustrated with everything.

It’s not like I can blame him.

“Any drinking? Drugs?”

“Probably,” he shrugs.

“Jacob-”

“I know better, dad. Plus, I’m not gonna do anything that would put Sarah at risk. Not after everything we’ve been through,” he sighs heavily.

“I want you home no later than 12,” I contend, the guilt becoming too much.

“It’s a Friday!”

“12:30 Jacob. I mean it. I don’t want you sleeping all day tomorrow. We’re going fishing in the morning and I’m not about to spend 20 minutes dragging your ass outta bed.”

“Fine, fine,” he scoffs sheepishly. “I gotta go.”

“Have a good day, buddy,” I smile, wrapping him in a hug. God, I’m gonna miss this little shit when he goes off to school. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad,” he smiles, giving me a halfhearted hug, before letting go and making his way out. “I love you, mom,” he says as he meets her at the landing.

“I love you too, Sweetie. Have a great day at school,” she smiles, wrapping him in a tight hug.

I genuinely wonder how much she means that.

With one final nod and wave, he’s off and out the door.

“You told him he could go to that party?” Laurie scowls.

“He’s responsible and he works hard. He deserves a night out.”

“You would know.”

“Why didn’t you help him study with his exam?”

“If you would’ve been home early enough, you would’ve been able to. Maybe if you stopped spending so much time with all of your little whores-”

“What I do in my spare time is none of your fucking concern. When our son is home and asking for help, your first thought shouldn’t be to fuck me over,” I bite before grabbing my briefcase.

“You used to not be such a dick.”

“Yeah well, you used to love me. Shit changes,” I shrug as I make my way out.

“Are you gonna be home for dinner tonight?”

“No,” I call over my shoulder, continuing my way out. “Maybe you should call up one of your boyfriends and fuck him in our bed again. I won’t catch you this time.”

“You don’t need to spend so many hours working,” your mother sighs as you bring her lunch. “I have some money-”

“Mom please,” you sigh with a soft smile. “You’ve worked hard your whole life to take care of me and Viv, let me work hard and take care of you.”

“How is your sister?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” you huff.

“Sweet Pea, I’d really like for you two to work things out before I-”

“She deserted us, Ma. Just like dad did. She blames you and...no. If she wants to make things right with me, she can start by making them right with you.”

“She can help with-”

“We don’t need her help. We’ve been on time with all of the bills and we’re getting by.”

“Y/N, your father called last night while you work at work,” she tells you softly and that has you freezing in place on the chair by her bed. “He said he’s been trying to speak to you for the last few months and you haven’t been responding.”

“I have nothing to say to him.”

“Sweet Pea, I’m not gonna be around much-”

“Mom-”

“No, you’re gonna listen to me!” she snaps. “I know that you’re not ready to accept it and I’m not ready to leave you, but the fact of the matter is that I’m dying. In a few months, it’s just gonna be you and I don’t want you to be alone. I know you have Mary, and she’s practically your sister, but she isn’t blood. If they’re trying to make things right with you...” she starts to cry.

“Hey,” you call softly, fighting back your own tears as you gently get in next to her “I’m gonna be alright. You raised me...I’ll be alright.”

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs into your shoulder.

“None of this is your fault. Not him cheating, not him leaving, not Vivian taking his side, and not you getting sick. You have nothing to be sorry for. You did the best you could and this...this is where we’re at,” you sob, quickly wiping away your own tears. “Besides, maybe-”

“They’re no miracles coming our way, baby. I just want to enjoy these last few months with you the best I can, and I want you to forgive the people who love you before I’m gone.”

“Lets talk about something else for a while, okay?” you smile weakly, you both laying back. “Literally anything else.”

“Have you met anyone special yet?” she chuckles, wiping away her tears and you can’t help but throw your back out and let out a full bodied laugh.

“No, no, no I have not.”

“You are the pickiest person I’ve ever known.”

“I’m not picky,” you quickly defend with a smile “I just refuse to settle. Every guy that approaches me is a tool. Just because someone is attractive doesn’t mean they deserve my attention.”

“Oh, I’ve set a horrible example for you,” she chuckles softly, shaking her head.

“You’ve done nothing of the sort,” you smile before kissing the top of her head. “Nothing of the sort.”

You two spend the rest of your time together watching soap operas and taking Buzzfeed quizzes, before you force yourself to get ready for work.

“What do you wanna do this weekend?” you ask your mother as the nurse sets herself up.

“Go for a hike,” she smirks at you.

“A true smart ass.”

“Maybe we can have your sister over for lunch.”

“I’ll take hell no for $300.”

“Y/N.”

“Maybe,” you sigh as you make your way over to her and kiss her on the cheek. “I love you and I’ll try not to wake you when I get in.”

“Tell those grocery store not to keep you so late tonight.”

“I promise I won’t let them,” you smile.

You thank her nurse, Gloria , for agreeing to come early before rushing out and quickly making your way to work. The tone and look on Samantha’s face last night had you riddled with anxiety, because whatever she was going to tell you wasn’t going to be good. When you reach the club, you don’t even bother to change, you just go straight to her office. The looks you’re getting from the girls around you only make your anxiety worse.

What the fuck is about to happen.

“You didn’t even bother to change?” Samantha scoffs as you make your way into her office.

“My mother thinks I work at a grocery store and I have severe anxiety. I can change after we talk,” you state flatly as you take a seat in front of her desk.

She takes a deep breath and you feel as if you’re going to throw up. “Now, Y/N, I don’t want you to freak out-”

“Sam, please just tell me.”

“You’re gonna be Andy’s girl...Andy’s girl alone.”

“Andy who? Andy Barber?! No...no. NO!”

“Just calm down,” she tries to reason. “He’s not gonna do anything to you-”

“Bullshit! He has a reputation around here for a reason! I’m not about to be one of his playthings! I refuse!”

“If you don’t do it, I have to fire you.”

“Sam, I’m a damn good worker and I bring in a lot of money!”

“My hands are tied on this,” she sighs sympathetically.

“It’s your club!”

“It’s complicated,” is all she responds with.

You’re quiet, accepting your fate with as much dignity as you can. “He’s gonna be here tonight?”

“Yes and you’re to go straight to his room, 793.”

“Where he can do-”

“Y/N, I promise you. He’s not going to do anything to you that you don’t allow. I didn’t tell him your situation, but I did tell him that you’ve got your own reasons to work here. You reason for not going off with guys is your own and he’s going to respect that.”

“Sure he is,” you scoff. “Well, I guess I better start getting ready.”

“Y/N, I’m truly sorry about this,” she tells you sincerely.

“Yeah, me too.”

As you change in the bathroom, you barely get into your skirt before you burst out into tears. Why had you talked yourself into taking this job? Why didn’t you just keep working 3 jobs? Wasn’t that better than this? Wasn’t it better to suffer the exhaustion than to suffer with the weight of this?

‘You have more time with your mother this way, and more money to help with things she needs,’ you kept telling yourself over and over again.

“Sweetie, it’s not gonna be that bad,” Lindsey tries to calm you through the door.

“Mary warned me about Andy!”

“If there’s anyone who should warn you, it should be Mary,” she sighs “but he’s not gonna force himself on you. If you tell him to stop, he will!”

“I want nothing to do with him!”

“Just don’t fall for his bullshit, that’s all. He likes to build girls up and takes joy out of breaking hearts. You’re smarter than that. Smarter than him.”

“I fucking hate this.”

“I know you do, babe. I know,” she sighs opening the door and wrapping you in a hug “but it’s gonna be okay. Just keep your head on straight and you’ll be okay.”

You can’t stop your shaking, so Lindsey finishes does your makeup for you. You put your hair up in a high bun and take a deep breath.

“Hun, if Samantha says she told him not to do anything to you, then she did. She may be a roaring bitch, but she is very strict about keeping us safe.”

“I just need to keep reminding myself how much I need this job.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Dying,” you scoff humorlessly. “This day fucking sucks, I swear to God.”

“Well, isn’t Mary coming home for the weekend? We can go out! You, me, Allison, and Mary!”

“Don’t you and Allison have work tomorrow? I don’t wanna get either of you in trouble. Plus, I can’t afford for my mother-”

��One night won’t kill Samantha. She can give our shifts to Madison and Jillian, since they’re bitching so much about lack of shifts.”

“If Jillian and Madison find out they’re covering shifts so you two can hangout with me, they’re gonna hate me even more.”

“Who gives a fuck? Both of them are the worst kind of scum. Allison and I will take off and we’ll all go out on Saturday.”

“There’s still my mother-”

“We’ll scrape up some coins and pay for it.”

“Lindsey no. I can’t ask-”

“You’re not asking me anything. I’m offering and I know Allison will be more than happy to help. Besides, its been forever since we all got to hangout with each other.”

“Linds...are you sure?”

“Yes, now lets go out there and get this night over with as quickly as we can,” she encourages, pulling you out of the bathroom.

“I don’t want to!” you groan, slowly following her lead.

“I’ll tell you one thing, he’s gonna have a hard time not wanting to touch you,” she smirks.

“LINDS!”

“I’m sorry,” she laughs “I couldn’t resist!”

“I’m finding you both in a better mood than I thought you’d in,” Allison smiles as she meets you two at the bar.

“You missed all the tears and stress,” Lindsey smiled sarcastically.

“I mean, not be a bitch, but I’m happy I did. I probably would have screamed at Samantha,” Allison scowls.

“None of that because we’re asking Samantha for tomorrow off so we can hangout with babycakes and Mary tomorrow.”

“Yes! I’ll be on my best behavior tonight!”

“We’re also gonna put together some money for someone to watch her mom while we’re out tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me,” Allison beams.

“You two are too good to me,” you smile before wrapping them both in a tight hug.

Lindsey and Allison do their best to keep your mind occupied until Samantha announces that the club is open for the night.

“Just take a deep breath, you’ve got this,” Allison reassures the best she can before making her way over to the bar.

“Remember what I told you,” Lindsey smiles, following suit as she lets her hair down. “Keep your head on straight, no matter what, and you’ll be fine,” she promises before walking off.

You aren’t sure whether you’re supposed to be serving tables or not, but you figure it best to look busy instead of waiting for Andy to saunter in. Besides, keeping busy, helps your mind stay busy. However, you don’t even have a chance to start taking orders before Marisol lets you know that Andy’s in his room and waiting for you.

You make your way over to the bar, asking for a tray with a glass and a bottle of Old Rip Van Winkle. Allison gives you a weak but reassuring smile and all you can offer is a small nod before grabbing the tray and making your way upstairs.

‘Your mother is worth all of this. This job helps you take care of her the best you can,’ you repeat to yourself as you get on the elevator and make your way up to the floor he’s on. When you finally reach the floor you slowly make your way down the hall to room 793.

‘Of course he gets the suite,’ you think to yourself as you knock on the door. ‘You’ve gone through worse, you can do this,’ you tell yourself.

“Didn’t think you’d get here so quick,” Andy smirks as he opens the door and steps aside for you to make your way in.

“Wasn’t much of a trip,” you mumble as you make your way inside and look around.

You’ve never been in any of the rooms and aren’t sure what to expect, but you don’t find yourself being all that surprised by the crimson color walls and sexual paintings hanging up. The black satin pillows on the crimson red sofa do nothing to heighten your experience.

In a sense: everything is just how you expect it to be.

“There’s only one glass here, why?” Andy questions, opening the bottle of bourbon and pouring a glass.

“I can’t drink.”

“Are you underage?”

“No, I’m working.”

“Hmm, you are, aren’t you?” he chuckles softly before going into the tiny kitchen area and grabbing himself a glass. “You work for me now, don’t you?”

“Haven’t I always?”

“Now, you only work for me...we’ll just keep it under the guise of you still working for this little club,” he smirks as he pours you a drink. “However, Samantha told me I’m not to do anything to you that you don’t want or ask for. I’ll respect that,” he agrees as he hands you the glass.

“Gee, thanks,” you mutter, taking the glass from him and looking at it.

Did you really want to have a drink with Andy Barber?

“You are going to have to adapt to your schedule-”

“No,” you stated firmly, meeting his heated gaze.

“No?”

“No, you’re going to have to adjust yours. If you want me to be your girl, and yours alone, then you’re going to have to meet my needs,” you finish, taking a sip of your drink, hoping to keep your resolve as you feel it start to chip away.

You really can’t afford to lose this job.

Andy chuckles before looking you over. “You really are a pistol aren’t you?”

“You’ve forced me into a corner and I don’t like it.”

“What corner? I always tip you well, I keep my hands to myself, and I keep my comments to myself.”

“The corner of making me choose this or my job.”

“Oh Sweetheart, that’s Samantha’s doing. Sure, I keep her out of trouble, but if she’d run a cleaner operation, she wouldn’t have to worry about me covering up anything, now would she?”

“Whatever business you two have doesn’t concern me. I can only look out for myself and that’s what I intend to do.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

“Then I guess I’m out of a job,” you shrug, secretly hoping he won’t accept your terms and conditions.

Andy looks you over before he speaks. “Take your shirt and bra off.”

“Excuse me?”

“What part has you confused?”

“I thought you said-”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to touch or look at you. Now, I told you to take your shirt and bra off,” he smirks at you. “I need to make sure I’m getting my money’s worth. While you’re at it, let your hair down. I wanna see as much of you as I can.”

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself how much need this job, before slowly removing the extremely tight uniform top followed by your bra. When you take him take a deep breath, your toes curl as you let your hair down.

Just because you’re repulsed by the man, doesn’t mean you’re not happy at the fact he finds you attractive. You have standards but that doesn’t make you an idiot.

“Fuck, I’m tempted to tell you take that skirt off, but I don’t think I’ll be able to follow the rules if I do,” he groans as adjusts himself on the sofa. “Spin for me.”

You quietly do as your told, closing your eyes and praying that by some miracle, the clock has sprung forward by 6 hours and you can go home.

“Jesus, why can’t you adjust your schedule? What’s so important that-”

“It doesn’t matter why I can’t. I just can’t. Yes, it is that important and no, I won’t budge. I’m not an idiot, Mr. Barber. I know just how much money I stand to lose if I don’t make you happy, but they’re certain things I just won’t negotiate on.”

“It’s always about money with you girls,” he chuckles, taking a sip of your drink.

“& it’s always about sex with you boys,” you bite back, losing your temper.

It’s not like you mean to lose your patience, but it’s not as if he knows anything about you. What right does he have to question you and your reasons for doing what you do?

“You want your weekends off and Mondays, right? So, I can’t fuck you, can’t see you on weekends, and I don’t get to ask about your personal life. Any other rules you need me to follow for this to be mutually enjoyable?” he questions with a cocked eyebrow, his eyes still glued to you.

“You don’t get to make any bold statements or assumptions about me. You don’t know me and you don’t know why I do this. Despite all of the feelings you may have towards the other women who work here, who are all more than worthy of respect by the way, you don’t know the first thing about me.”

“You work at a Gentleman’s Club and think I don’t know all there is to know about you?”

“You pay women for sex and frequent said Gentleman’s Club, so you really think you’re in a position to throw stones?” you question, crossing your arms.

Andy’s thoughtful before he speaks. “That’s fair and a good point. Fine, no witty remarks or judgment on my end. Anything else?”

You’re thoughtful as you try to make sure you’ve covered all your bases. “I don’t think-”

“Need you to know for sure, Sweetheart.”

“No,” you quickly snap, not liking how dumb and inexperienced he makes you feel.

You should’ve taken more time to think on it.

“Good. Now, these are my rules and you will follow them,” he warns as he sets his drink down. “You’re not to serve any other guy, besides me. I don’t even want you helping the other girls out with orders. When you get here, I want you topless and waiting for me. I want a glass of bourbon ready for the both of us when I get here, because I want you drinking. I don’t want you drunk, I just want you loose. We’re not gonna get anywhere if you’re always so fucking uptight. Also, what we do stays between us. I have a kid at home and I don’t need him going through anymore hell than he already has.

When we’re together, your focus is on me and no one and nothing else. If you start seeing someone outside of work, you’re telling me. I don’t like sharing my things and that doesn’t change because of what we do here. How much do you make in tips a week?”

“$8,000,” you blurt out without even think about it.

“Of course you do,” he chuckles. “Pretty little thing like you...$10,000 a week it is. Bonus if you’re good for me.”

“10...Andy-”

“Trust me, I can afford it,” he chuckles at your confused state.

“Andy, I collectively make $8,000. It’s not just...you don’t have to...”

“If I want you to make it worth my while, I need to have something to offer, don’t I? Especially since we’re not fucking...yet,” he smirks. “So, whatever you’re being paid by Samantha and me giving you $10,000 a week...that’s a decent setup, isn’t it?”

“Y...yes,” you stutter, still trying to come to terms with your new reality.

“I expect you to be on time daily. If you’re going to be late, you let me know; not Samantha. If you’re going to be late, you tell me. However, unless you’re dying, I don’t expect you to miss a day.”

“What if I’m sick?”

“Let me know in advance and we’ll work around it.”

“Andy...what do you...why do you want me?”

“Because you hate me,” he shrugs as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. “The fact that you despise me makes me want you. It’s fun and it keeps everything exciting. You’ve only been here a few months and you’ve made it a point to avoid me as much as possible, so why wouldn’t I want you? Why wouldn’t I want to make the playing field as uneven as possible? That makes it all that much more fun for me.”

“Yeah but...”

“But what?”

“It’s not like I’m the only one here who despises you. Most of the women here despise all the men who come here.”

“You’re gorgeous and, if I’m honest, the fact that you’re a virgin turns me on. How old are you?”

“25.”

“You’re 25 and still a virgin? Bullshit,” he laughs before pouring himself another drink.

“I’ve done some things,” you mutter, feeling small “I just haven’t done it.”

“What have you done?”

“A few hand jobs, making out, I’ve been fingered, and I’ve let a few guys down on me,” you sigh before downing the rest of your drink.

All of a sudden, you feel very stupid and very out of place.

“So basically, you’re a virgin,” he chuckles as he beckons you over.

“Isn’t that the draw of me?” you ask, holding out your glass as he fills it.

“One of the many,” he smirks as he looks you over. “You’re allowed to ask me three questions about my personal life, then we agree on this.”

“Three?”

“After we shake on this, it’s an agreement. After we shake, you have your boundaries and I have mine.”

“What does your wife think? Does she even know?” you ask without thinking, taking a sip of your drink.

“I’ll count that as one question,” he smirks. “She knows. We have an open marriage, so she does what she wants and I do what I want. Weekdays are her days to play and weekends are my time...well, up until now, which I’m sure she’ll be happy about.”

“You don’t ever-”

“Careful, you only have two questions left,” he warns as he takes a sip of his drink.

You’re thoughtful, keeping in mind that your window into his soul is limited. “What do you get out of this? You know what the women in this place think, thanks to me, so why? Why go through the cycle if you already know the ending?”

“Lets just say...it counts as my therapy,” he laughs humorlessly. “I’m working through some shit and all of this...it helps. Maybe one day I’ll be right in the head again, but until then, this is all I have. Last question?”

“Why did you break Mary’s heart?”

That caught him off guard. “You know Mary?”

“I’ve known her since I was 5. She told me about this place.”

“Doesn’t seem like a very good friend if you ask me.”

“Well I didn’t,” you defend, not liking his tone “I asked you why you broke her heart.”

“Ask another question.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you respond, raising your eyebrow this time before taking a sip of your drink.

“What did she tell you?”

“That she told you she loved you and you abused that love.”

“Only as much as she abused mine,” he shrugs, a cynical look coming to his eyes. “I’m fine with the world hating me. I’m a lawyer, most people hate me. However, I don’t start doing any of this shit without letting you girls know how it’s gonna be. I told her that I’m in an open marriage, I told her that I’m not looking to fall in love, and I told her that I just want to have fun. She said she was fine with that and understood it,” he sighs before taking a large sip of his bourbon. “ She said she was fine with it and wasn’t looking for anything besides a hefty tip to get her through school. We had an understanding.”

“Then?”

“She caught feelings. We caught feelings. No, I never loved her, but I did like her. I liked her a lot, but I never made her my regular. She didn’t like that. I fucked up by buying her jewelry and shit, and letting her entertain the idea of her and I being something more one day, even though that was never my intention. Mary is too...she’s not for me. So, when she asked me when I’d stop sleeping with the other girls, I told her I didn’t know. She asked me if I thought she was enough and I told her no. So, she in turn, started to hate me and I don’t blame her. It’s not like I didn’t deserve it but, in my defense, I never promised her anything. She knew what this was from the beginning.”

“Then why-”

“Three questions, Sweetheart. That was the deal,” he quickly interrupts, letting you know that he’s more than done with the conversation as he stands up. “Do we have an understanding or not?”

You look at his hand and contemplate all of the possible futures you could have. However, none of them seem as bad as not being able to have more time with your mother. “We have a deal,” you agree solemnly as you shake his hand.

“Oh, Sweetheart, I promise I’ll make this as fun as you let me,” he laughs as he breaks out your grip and starts to undo his pants.

“You said-”

“I said I wouldn’t do anything to you, I never said I wouldn’t tell you to do anything to me,” he advises as he takes himself out his pants.

“I’ve never...I don’t know how...” you start as you look at his size.

What the hell did you just get yourself into?

“I’ve got all night to teach you,” he coaxes; his smile sinister.

You finish off your drink before slowly sinking to your knees. ‘Might as well get this over with,’ you think to yourself as you open your mouth wide for him.

“Fuck, if only you could see you fucking good you look for me right now,” he chuckles before pulling his phone out and taking a few pictures. “You look like a fucking angel.”

You ignore the excitement his praise makes you feel as you start to stroke him. You lick his tip softly a few times, gaining a few low groans from Andy, before taking him into your mouth just a little.

“That’s right, Sweetheart, take your time,” he husks guiding you slowly.

Little by little you take him into your mouth until you can’t anymore.

“That’s a good girl,” he groans before throwing his phone down and starting to guide you on his cock. “you take me so well, baby.”

You can’t help but close your eyes as your own pleasure starts to build. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re pleasing him or if it’s because he’s controlling you, but the more you try and fight it, the more excited you become.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he taunts as he grips your face with his free hand “eyes on Daddy.”

The muffled moan that escapes you makes him chuckle.

“So that’s what my good girl likes? You like being good for me?” he smirks down at you.

All you can do is look up at him nod, your cheeks feeling hot from embarrassment.

“Then be a good girl for me and make me cum,” he demands, his grip on your hair getting tighter as you pick up your pace. “God, you’re such a good little cock slut, baby,” he moans.

You clench your thighs together as much as possible, trying to fight off your own release, and you can see the idea forming in his eyes before he even says anything.

“Get up, baby,” he breathes, letting go of your hair. You eye him warily as you release him and slowly stand up. “Get on the bed.”

“Andy-”

“What did you call me?”

“Daddy,” you quickly correct, slightly tempted to test those waters. “W...why do you...?”

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. Daddy’s not gonna touch you,” he coos gently as he makes his way over to you. “You’re gonna touch yourself,” he whispers hotly against your ear.

The mortification you feel at your arousal is apparent as your body shudders at just the thought of what he wants.

“Don’t get shy on me now, Darlin’,” he chuckles. “You need the release, I can see it and I wanna watch you fall apart, unless you want me to do it for you,” he taunts as his fingers trace the outline of your body.

“Fuck,” you moan before slowly making your way over to the bed.

You take a deep breath as you make your way over to the bed, climbing onto it before crawling to the center and laying on your back.

‘Of course this creative fucker thinks of a way to get me on this bed,’ you think as you slowly lift up your skirt a little.

“Take it off,” he demands softly, stroking himself while he gaze on you is intense.

You bite your bottom lip as you quietly obey, trying to force yourself to be in the moment. You’ve never done anything like this, and you never imagined your first heavy sexual encounter to be like this. However, it wasn’t about you and your comfort. There was something much more important a stake, and you weren’t about to fuck it up because you were uncomfortable and unhappy.

However, at the moment, you’re not sure if you’re unhappy with the current situation you’re in...or if you’re unhappy with how turned on you are by it.

“Fuck,” you sigh softly, sliding your hand down into your panties and playing with your clit. “Shit!”

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he grunts as he picks up his pace.

“Daddy,” you whimper, starting to massage your left nipple with your free hand. “Feels so fucking good!”

“I wanna taste that fucking pussy so bad, let me see it,” he groans, his voice strained, and you can tell he’s close.

“How bad do you wanna see my cunt?”

“So fucking bad, baby. Thought about that perfect little pussy so much.”

“Then beg,” you demand with a gasp as you start to fuck yourself.

“Shit, please. Please baby, I need to fucking see it. Fuck, I’ve thought about it so much.”

“Yeah? Did you fucking jerk off to thought of eating me out?”

“You have no fucking idea how much,” he pathetically whimpers as he slowly makes his way over to the bed. “C’mon, be a good girl for Daddy and let me see that perfect little soaked pussy,” he begs.

“Fuck,” you moan, removing your hand and tasting yourself on your fingers before slowly removing your panties.

“Jesus Christ,” he pants, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Every part of you is fucking beautiful. You’re so fucking perfect.”

“You think so, Daddy?”

“Fuck yeah,” he groans as his movements starting to come quicker, as if he’s desperate for release. “Fuck, get over here, Sweetheart. Need to finish off in that filthy little mouth,” he demands weakly.

You quickly get on your knees and make your way to edge of the bed, never breaking eye contact as you open your mouth for him.

“Fuck, keep fucking yourself, I want you to cum for me, Sweetheart. I need you to,” he breathes heavily. He watches as one of your hands makes its way between your legs, and the silent whimper is all he needs. “Shit!” he shouts, shooting his load into your mouth.

It’s more than enough to send you over the edge into your own euphoric trance, as your force yourself to stay up right and steady. You keep your eyes on him as he continues to jerk off into your mouth, groaning satisfaction when the last bit of his hot seed touches your tongue.

“Don’t swallow just yet, Darlin,” he pants with s smirk, before fishing for his cell phone.

You can’t imagine how fucked out you look, and you don’t want to think about it, as he takes a picture of you. When he spits into your mouth, you expect to find yourself disgusted, but you only find yourself ready to do more to please him to your dismay.

‘When did you become this person?’ you think to yourself as look up at him and await his next command.

“Fuck, I wasn’t expecting you to be like this at all,” he chuckles before taking one more picture. “Swallow.”

You do as your told and keep your eyes on him, reluctantly finding yourself loving how much control you may have in the situation.

“Oh Sweetheart, you and I are gonna have a lot of fun together,” he smirks mischievously.

Over the next few hours, Andy is creative in the ways he makes you bring yourself off for his amusement. Loving how submissive you are but also relishing in how dominant you can be at times. He takes his time learning what you actually like and what you’ll do just to make him happy.

Always leaning more towards what you actually like.

By the time the night is through, your throat is sore, your body is tired, and you’re exhausted,

“I expect you to be on time, Tuesday,” Andy states as he zips up his pants, pulling out his money clip and throwing the money down on the bed. “Expect a punishment if you’re late.”

“Of course,” you mumble, looking down at the money next to you.

You’d never gone from feeling so blissed out to feeling like total shit so fast.

“Hey, cheer up. This will be fun for the both of us,” he smirks at you as he puts his suit jacket on.

“Sure it will. Don’t forget your wedding ring,” you remind him lazily as you get up and make your way to your bag.

Andy’s hesitant before he makes his way over to get it. “There’s nothing for you to feel bad about, Y/N,” he states softly as he puts his ring back on, and you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “What we do...it’s just for fun. It’s just sex. I’m free to do what I want and so are you.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it?” you question before grabbing your bag and disappearing into the bathroom.

You take your time in the shower, letting the night’s events play over and over again. No, you didn’t sleep with him and besides grabbing your hair, he hadn’t touched you.

However, it all still felt wrong. You didn’t feel like you. How you were going to tell Mary and try to avoid telling her how much a part of you enjoyed it, isn’t something you think you’ll be able to do.

But you know you have to.

You quickly dry and dress yourself in the bathroom, brushing your teeth the best you can without making your gums bleed, before making your way back out to the bedroom. Andy’s gone but he left a piece of paper with his number on it, next to the wad of cash on the bed.

You take a deep breath and throw both into your purse before making your way out of the room, wanting nothing more than to distance yourself for the new world you’ve made for yourself as much as possible.

“Hey, how’d it go tonight?” Allison asks, greeting you with a small smile as you make your way off of the elevator.

“Well, I’m still a virgin,” you mumble, walking by the bar and making yourself a drink.

“Oh shit,” she sighs, taking a seat next to you and making your own drink.

“We did...things. We did things and he allowed me to ask him three questions, so I of course asked about Mary-”

“Y/N....no,” she groans.

“Of course his story is different than hers, and for some reason, I believe him because it sounds...very Mary.”

“How so?”

“She thought she could change his mind and became upset when she couldn’t.”

“Well...yeah, that does sound very Mary,” she scoffs, taking a swig of her drink.

“How am I supposed to tell her, Ally? She’s going to be so-”

“You know just as well as I do that she’ll be understanding.”

“And you know just as well as I do that it’ll be to an extent.”

“She’ll come around, babe.”

“She never stopped loving him, fuck! What did I just get myself into?! He didn’t even know that I know her, let alone that she’s my best friend. He didn’t even wanna talk about it.”

“Wait. He didn’t wanna talk about it, and you made him talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, finishing off your drink before pouring yourself another. “He told me to ask him something else and I told him no. However, by how hard he face fucked me tonight, I’m pretty sure I paid for it.”

“Did he-”

“He didn’t do anything I didn’t find myself liking, which is apart of the problem. I don’t want Andy, but I want the release he brings. Yes, at the end of the day, it really is all about the money, but I feel guilty for enjoying the things that get me the money.”

“Honey, if you’re lucky enough to end up with a fuckhead that you actually enjoy, there should be no guilt or shame in that. Andy Barber is fine as fuck and he chose you. Do you want to be with him?”

“Fuck no!”

“Then there’s nothing to feel bad about. He’s just a paycheck that you get to enjoy along the way. Take what you need while getting what you want,” she smiles reassuringly.

You both make small talk before she tells you that both her and Lindsey have off tomorrow, so they’ll text the plans for tomorrow in the group chat. You finish your drink and give Allison a tight hug before making your way to the exit. Samantha offers you a small sad smile before handing you your check and wishing you a great weekend.

When you’re finally settled into your car, you open up your check and chuckle humorlessly.

$717.19.

You do quick math in your head and realize that you’ve made $10,717.19 without barely lifting a finger.

By the time you get home, you’re exhausted and don’t want to think anymore. You ask Gloria if she minds spending her Saturday night with your mother and she’s happy to tell you ‘no’ if it means you’ll go out and have fun for a change,

“Are you sure? Because you have your own life and-”

“Honey, I’ve never seen someone who works quite as hard as you do. You deserve a night off and some fun. If anything serious happens, I promise I’ll let you know,” she smiles reassuringly.

“How much do I owe-”

“This is on the house. For as long as I’ve been caring for your mother, you’ve never asked me for anything more than that’s been required.”

“I can’t just-”

“Yes you can,” she promises softly. “Be young and have fun, even if it’s for a night. Reality will be waiting for you when you get back,” she states sympathetically before making her way down the steps and to her car.

You watch her drive off before taking a deep breath and heading inside.

“You’re home early!” your mother beams as you make your way into the living room.

“No inventory, just regular bullshit,” you smile as you sit down in the chair next to her.

“I missed you today. Grease was on!”

“You watched Grease without me?!”

“Before the end of this life, I need to know why they literally fly off into the sunset,” your Mother jokes as you feel your heart break.

“What have you come up with?” you ask, doing your best to mask your pain.

“I don’t know just yet, but I will figure it out,” she giggles before turning her attention back towards the television.

You give her a small kiss on the hand before turning your attention back to the television. Soon enough, you hear her soft snores and do your best to fight sleep, trying to hold on to the moments that will soon be no more.

But you’re so tired.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep before you hear your sister’s voice faintly in the background.

“She’s been working hard, honey. Let her rest,” your Mother says softly, but the happiness in her tone is very apparent.

“I know, but I just wanna talk to her. This is the first time I’ve actually seen her in years. She looks so grown up and I miss her. I know she hates me, and I don’t blame her, but I really-”

“She doesn’t hate you, Vivian. She’s just hurt,” your Mother corrects softly.

It takes all of two seconds for you to realize that you’re not having a nightmare and that your sister is, in fact, in the house.

“Vivian,” you yawn as your eyes slowly open “I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

“Hey! You’re up!” she smiles at you, going in for a hug, and instantly move away.

You feel terrible for being angry with your mother, but you don’t like being ambushed. At all. You see the pain in your sister’s expression, but you can’t find yourself feeling bad at all.

“What’s up?” you ask tentatively, your gaze flitting between the both of them.

“Um, mom asked me over for lunch today and I was hoping the three of us could-”

“I have plans,” you interrupt instantly, ignoring the scowl that leaves your Mother’s lips.

“Oh,” she replies weakly “well maybe this week-”

“I’m taking care of mom and I have work,” you reply with a shrug.

“Honey, why don’t you get started on lunch?” your Mother smiles at your sister, the best she can as she hides her annoyance towards you.

Your sister merely nods before slowly making her way out.

“Y/N-”

“Don’t,” you quickly interrupt. “You didn’t tell me she was coming over.”

“You didn’t tell me you had plans.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t, because you would’ve tried to ambush me another day.”

“I told you-”

“No mom. I get it, I really do. She’s your daughter and things are...I get it, but you don’t get to force me to make nice with her. She didn’t just walk out on you, she walked out on me too. She didn’t care because she was happy to blindly follow behind dad, even though he was in the wrong the entire time. I’m finer with her not being in my life. I’m fine with the both of them not being in my life.”

“You can’t hold on to this hate in your heart forever,” your Mother sighs.

“There’s no hate. I just don’t need them and I don’t care. They made this choice, not me.”

“Y/N-”

“Gloria is going to come over in a few hours. I highly doubt that Vivian is gonna be able to take care of you on her own. She doesn’t know a thing about your medication or diet.”

“Y/N-”

“I called her, ya know,” you almost sob. “When you were first diagnosed, I called her to let her know. I called her multiple times. I called her cell, her house, and her job. She couldn’t be fucking bothered. She never returned a call, always had someone answer for her to say that she was too busy...she made the choice for things to be this way and I’m not gonna feel bad for wanting nothing to do with her. For wanting nothing to do with either of them,” you sniff as you wipe your eyes.

“Who are you meeting up with?” your Mother sighs as she wipes her own eyes.

“Mary, she’s home for the weekend, so we’re gonna go out with a few friends.”

“You can’t see her tomorrow?”

“I want to spend time with you. Not you and Vivian.”

“Y/N-”

“We have tomorrow and Monday,” you smile weakly. “You have a lunch and I have to get ready for my day out.”

“I don’t want you mad at me, Sweet Pea.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just tired.”

You quickly make your way upstairs and put together an outfit before getting into the shower. You do your best to push your feelings of anger and irritation aside, but you truly can’t wrap your head around the fact that your mother tried to force you into spending time with your sister. It’s not like you don’t get why it means so much, and you truly want to make your mother as happy as possible while you still can, but you’re just not ready to speak to your sister or Father again.

You’re not sure if you ever will be.

As you dry yourself off and start getting dressed, you hear a faint knock on your door.

“Are you ever gonna stop hating me, Y/N?” your sister asks softly as she opens the door.

“I thought you had to wait for someone to say ‘come in’ before you make your way into their space,” you scowl.

“Y/N-”

“I don’t hate you, Vivian. I just want nothing to do with you or Dad. I think that’s fair.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry and I get it, okay? I was selfish, I was stupid-”

“You broke her heart, Vivian!” you finally snap. “You blamed her for something that she had no control over! You don’t think she tried to stop him from leaving? You don’t think it broke her heart that he’d rather cheat than be a better man for his family? She did everything she could for us, and you just...it doesn’t even fucking matter,” you sniff as you wipe your eyes, before putting on your sneakers. “She’s dying so you both need to make peace with your consciences. Whatever.”

“That’s not-”

“That’s exactly what the fuck it is. I’m not stupid. You’re lucky though, cause neither of you had to watch her fall apart in real time. You didn’t deal with the hair loss, the vomiting, the emergency hospital visits, the bills, the breakdowns, the freak outs, the coughing up blood, the weight loss, none of it. You guys waited till the end and I gotta say, you made the smart move. Avoiding any true guilt and coming in when you have just enough time to enjoy the few good days she has left? Genius.”

“Y/N,” she sobs.

“Gloria will be here around 5. I don’t know what time I’ll be home, so just try not to run out on her again until I come back, okay? Thanks,” you smile sarcastically at her, before grabbing your purse and pushing past her and making your way downstairs. “I’m gonna get going, Mama.”

“You won’t stay for-”

“I love you, but I can’t do it. I’m sorry, but I’m just not there yet,” you sigh with a weak smile. “But we’ll do something tomorrow, okay? We can watch ‘Grease’ together and try to solve the mystery.”

“Don’t be mad at me,” your mother pleads softly, gently placing her hand on yours.

“I could never,” you promise, kissing her forehead and slowly pulling your hand away “I just can’t be here right now. Gloria will be here in a few hours, okay?”

“Yeah...have fun and be safe,” your Mother encourages weakly. “I love you.”

“I’ll see you later,” you respond meekly before rushing out.

The minute you start your car, you start crying. Is it not enough that work just got extremely complicated? Now your personal life has to get complicated too?

By the time you arrive at Mary’s parents’ house, you’re spent and just wanna go home. But you know better. Going back to chaos will only cause more of it, and you need a break.

From everything.

“You’re here!” Mary squeals, running down the steps as you get out of your car, and you can’t help but chuckle. “I missed you so fucking much!”

“I missed you too,” you giggle as she tackles you with a tight hug. “Are the girls here?”

“No, we’re gonna meet them at the bar! Which means...”

“Oh God, please don’t make me!” you groan, stomping your foot.

“You get to help me get ready!”

“Can I just stab myself instead? It’s just as painful.”

“Ha ha, get your ass in here,” she smirks before pulling you inside her parents house.

As both of her parents hug you and welcome you in, your mind can’t help but wonder if they know. Know what Mary used to do, know if she helped you land your current job...how she’s able to pay for school without a cent from them...they have to at least be curious, right?

“So, catch me up! I feel like I haven’t spoken to you in forever!” she sings as she makes her way into the bathroom that connects to her room.

“What do you wanna know about?” you ask, fighting off the inevitable as your phone buzzes.

Unknown Number: Are you sure you can’t come in tonight?

Y/N: How did you get my number, Andy?

Unknown Number: Samantha will basically give me anything that I want. Any information I want about you, I can easily get.

Y/N: Jesus, did you help her cover up a murder or something?

Unknown Number: Something like that lol. Now, about tonight.

Y/N: I told you, Andy. My days are non-negotiable. I’ll see you on Tuesday.

Unknown Number: Are you sure?

When the text that follows is a picture of his hard cock in his hand, you’re feel your cheeks heating up at the arousal between your legs.

“Well, I’m guessing you’re not in the mood to talk about your Mother,” Mary sighs heavily, as you jump a little and hide your phone. “Sooo, I was thinking we could talk about work?” she asks hesitantly.

“Um, I mean...we can...”

“What don’t you want to tell me? Did someone hurt you? Is Samantha being a cunt? Because I swear to God I’ll-”

“No...no, nothing like that,” you chuckle nervously.

At that moment, your eyes land on a picture on her nightstand of you two when you were 6, and you truly want to die.

“Is it about Andy?” she asks softly.

“Yes,” you all but mumble. Her silence is enough to make you want to run away and leave, but you know you can’t. Mary’s your best friend and you need to be up front with her. “We don’t have to-”

“You may as well tell me,” she mutters and you can tell that she probably has her hands balled into fists.

“He uh...he wants me to see him...only him,” you confess nervously as you start to fiddle with your hands. “He knows I’m a virgin, and Samantha made him swear not to force himself on me, but we did...stuff last night. He obviously doesn’t know why I work there, and I don’t want him to, but the money he’s paying...it’s really good money, plus what Mary pays me at the end of the week. I need every bit of it.”

“He’s such a fucking asshole! I swear to Christ!” she exclaims, slamming her hand down on the sink. “Let me guess, Samantha made it known that you’re a virgin?”

“Yup, because you know how guys like that are. They want to be the first and they want to know they’re the only one whose touched you like that. Of course, the minute the word got out that she hired a virgin, business started booming,” you mutter, looking down at your feet.

You feel so fucking small.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch, I know how much you need the money. It’s the only reason I told you about the club in the first place, but do you-”

“It’s $10,000, Mary. No matter what happens with Sam, I’m guaranteed $10,000 with Andy. $10,000 a week? That covers expenses in spades,” you explain, trying to fight off your feelings of guilt. “It’s not like I’m happy about this or happy to be with him. I even asked him why he broke your heart,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“What? What did he say?” she asks, coming out of the bathroom half dressed, toothbrush still in her mouth.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Y/N, tell me-”

“Mary, why are you gonna put yourself through all of this again? Stop thinking about-”

“Please don’t,” she practically sobs. “I know, okay? I went through it and I know what...I know. It’s just not fucking fair!”

“Then stop thinking on it,” you beg, getting up and wrapping her in a tight hug. “You deserve better and you’ll have better. You’ll have the dream man you’ve always wanted, but you have to stop being so hung up on him.”

“Why does he get to have everything he wants?”

“Because he’s rich, babe. He’s rich which means he can afford to have everything he wants,” you smile sympathetically as you back away.

“Help me finish up?” she asks softly as she dries her eyes.

“I’d love to.”

You two spend the rest of the time at her house helping her get an outfit together and telling her about how about how Vivian and your Father are trying to come back into your life now that your Mother is nearing the end of hers. As you do her hair and explain everything that’s going on, you can tell that Mary feels bad at suggesting you not see Andy anymore.

“So, she just wants you to welcome her back with open arms like she didn’t fuck you both over?” Mary asks as you curl the last part of her hair.

“Yup. Vivian tried to give me a whole fucking story about how she’s not coming by to clear up her conscience.”

“What a bitch. Honestly, fuck the both of them. You’ve been taking care of your mother, for almost 2 years without any help from anyone. They have no right.”

“She wants us all to make up before she...but I’m not there yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be there.”

“And that’s okay, babe,” she sighs. “I know all the hell you’ve gone through because of them, and they honestly don’t deserve your forgiveness, or even a fake act of kindness. Fuck them.”

“It’ll make her happy though and isn’t that what matters most?” you ask as your phone buzzes.

“I know how much you love her, hell, I wish she was my mother, but you have to draw the line somewhere,” she says firmly as your phone buzzes again. “Are you gonna answer that?”

“No,” you mutter, handing her your favorite eyeliner.

“It could be your mom.”

“I promise you it isn’t.”

“Oh,” is all she says. “Why-”

“He wants me to come in tonight,” you mumble as your phone buzzes again.

“You may as well answer it,” she gripes.

Unknown Number: You can’t say it’s not a good photo.

Unknown Number: C’mon, whatever you’re doing tonight can’t be more fun than spending time with me.

Y/N: I can’t tonight, Andy. I told you, my days are non-negotiable.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to, because a part of you does. The release he gave you the night before is the only thing you truly crave right now, and it’s hard to believe that anyone else will give it to you.

That and the fact that there’s a small part of you doesn’t want anyone else to make you feel that way. It’s hard enough to accept that Andy makes you feel and act a certain that you never thought you would, but thinking that there’s possibly someone else that could unlock that inside of you?

That has you terrified.

By the time you and Mary make it to the bar, you’re more than ready to get trashed.

“Finally! Took you two long enough!” Lindsey squeals as you and Mary make your way inside the bar.

Allison practically knocks you over with the hug she gives you and you can’t help but laugh, knowing full well that she’s already buzzed.

“I missed you!”

“You just saw me last night,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but that’s work. I haven’t hung out with either of you in so long!” she whines before letting go of you and tackling Mary with a hug.

“Someone’s having a good time,” you giggle as you hug Lindsey.

“Like the rest of us, she’s in need of a night off,” she chuckles, hugging you tight.

“What happened?”

“She’s gonna bring it up later, but her and Tyler got into another argument about work. He doesn’t want her working at the club anymore.”

“Then maybe he should get a fucking job and do something? Besides, it’s not like it’s some fucking surprise. She’s been up front with him from the very beginning.”

“Trust me, I know exactly how you feel. I went off too. She needs to leave his ass, but you and I both know she won’t.”

“It’s really fucking sad what we’re willing to go through just fucking feel normal outside of work.”

“You’re telling me,” she sighs heavily.

As the night goes on, you all drink and talk about how life is currently being a bitch to all of you.

“You need to leave his ass, Ally,” you slightly slur as you grab your drink. “He’s a piece of shit and has no right to talk to you like that.”

“I love him,” she sighs before finishing off the rest of her drink. “I know I shouldn’t but I do. He wasn’t always like this and I get why he’s mad, I would be too. I sleep with other men for money, but he knew that. He knew that, he knows why, and he still...I just don’t know.”

“Exactly,” Mary jumps in. “He fucking knows why you do it. Outside of Lindsey, I don’t know anyone who stays at the job as long as we all have for shits and giggles. Well, Lindsey and the fucking terror twins,” she scoffs.

“Yeah, but I’m not a piece of shit like the terror twins!” Lindsey quickly defends as you all laugh.

“We know, babe. We know,” you encourage as you pat her arm.

“My point being,” Mary starts again “Tyler doesn’t like what you do, but he likes the money you make. He knows why you do it, but he literally does nothing to help you. He knows first hand how good you are at your job, but does nothing to keep other men from knowing why you earn so well. I don’t know, maybe he should take his fucking college degree and take care of you, instead of berating you because his fucking feeling are hurt,” she snaps as your phone starts to ring.

You take one look at it and scowl, before rolling your eyes and ignoring it.

“Looks like you’ve got Barber wrapped around your finger,” Mary scoffs before finishing off her drink.

“Don’t,” you bite before waiving a waiter over and asking for another round of drinks.

“I’m not,” she huffs “I just fucking hate him.”

“I didn’t decide on this lightly and you know that.”

“I know and I’m truly not mad at you. Honestly, I can’t even bitch about it that much because he didn’t even know we know each other. This isn’t him being a dick, it’s just him being attracted to someone else. The shittiest part is that the someone else is my best fucking friend.”

“I’ll just tell him that I can’t do it,” you shrug, grabbing your phone.

“Stop it, I’m sorry,” she sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “You need that money and I know that. I want your mother to be as comfortable as possible, I’m just...I still love him. I shouldn’t and he doesn’t deserve my love, but that doesn’t change the fact that I do,” she almost sobs as your phone starts ringing again. “Just answer him,” she laughs humorlessly “I know him and he isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants.”

“I can be persistent too, ya know.”

“Just answer him.”

You slowly make your way out, grateful for the soft breeze and the sound of the water hitting the rocks, before finally answering him.

“What?” you snap, leaning against the balcony ledge.

“You could be a little nicer, ya know.”

“What do you want, Andy?”

“You know what I want.”

“And you know that I can’t. Why are you-ow!” you exclaim as you almost fall over, but land on a metal table instead.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I just...just lost my balance.”

“Are you drunk?” he scoffs.

“Maybe.”

“So, you can’t work on weekends because you’re an alcoholic?”

“Oh fuck off!” you snap and he laughs. “Mary is home for the weekend, so I was bullied into taking a night off so we can all hangout.”

“A night from...?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re a mean drunk.”

“And you’re a nosey man.”

“She mad at you?”

“I mean, she’s not fucking happy about it.”

“So you did tell her?”

“Why are you so surprised by that?”

“Most people choose the easy way out.”

“Do I seem like most people to you?”

“Fair point,” he chuckles softly. “You’re not driving home, right?”

“I’m not that stupid.”

“Text me where you are and I’ll send a service for you and your friends when you’re ready to leave.”

“There’s really no need, but thank you,” you sigh softly, not liking how his genuine concern makes you feel just a bit special.

“Y/N-”

“Mary’s already upset, Andy. You sending a car will only make her upset. We can get ourselves home.”

“At least let me know when you’re home.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I just made a hefty investment. I can’t have you dying on me after just a day,” he jokes and you can’t help but burst out laughing. “I like your laugh,” he comments after your laughter dies down.

“Blame the alcohol.”

“I just might,” he scoffs. “You’ll let me know when you’re safe?”

“I promise,” you state softly.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Andy.”

As the night goes on, and you all get drunker, you do your best to push your thoughts about everything away. You don’t want to think about Andy, you don’t want to think about the fact that your Mother is on her way out, and you definitely don’t want to think about your sister and father. You just wanna stay in the moment with your friends and feel a temporary sense of relief, but as 2am hits and you’re holding Alison’s hair back, you know it’s time to go.

Figuring out how to get home is a bit tricky, but you all manage with you deciding that the three of them will sleepover at Lindsey’s and you’ll go back home. The second you stumble into your Mother’s house, you’re ready to go to sleep, but you remember that you promised Andy you’d let him know when you’re home. You plop down on the chair next to your Mother’s hospice bed and pull out your phone.

Y/N: I’m home safe.

You were ready to settle into the chair when you’re phone started ringing.

“Why are you up?” you yawn once you answer the phone.

“If I’m not fuckin’, I’m workin’,” Andy jokes and you chuckle softly. “Did you have fun?”

“Mhm, I think we all needed it. You need to get sleep.”

“Soon enough. Jacob’s still out.”

“Don’t be a boner when he gets home,” you muse lazily and Andy lets out a hearty laugh.

“I just wanna know he’s home safely. I trust the kid.”

“Always have.”

“See you Tuesday?”

“Mhm,” you hum as you start to drift off.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Andy,” you smile before hanging up.

Sleep comes easily enough as you kick off your shoes and settle in the lay-z-boy. As you slip out of consciousness, you can’t help but feel anxious. Anxious about your Mother, your sister, your Father, your future...

Anxious about Andy.

You mentally tell yourself that everything will be fine and fall into place as they should, because life always has a funny way of working itself out.

However, the feeling of dread and vampires flying around in your stomach has you thinking differently.

If only someone would give you a crystal ball to see your future.

In the next two months of you seeing Andy professionally, a lot has happened.

Your Mother’s condition has taken a turn for the worst, both your sister and Father have been hounding you to spend time with them, your relationship with Mary has gotten rockier by the day, and Andy has become obsessed with spending as much time with you as possible.

Andy.

To say that you’ve developed feelings for him is a stretch, but you’ve definitely started feeling something towards him.

“Daddy, it’s gonna hurt,” you moaned as you looked up at Andy.

“Only for a little bit, Sweetheart. I promise that it’s gonna feel so good after a little bit,” he cooed softly.

“Why did you have to get one that’s so big?”

“So we can both pretend that it’s me fucking you,” he coaxed devilishly as he softly rubbed the head of the dildo against your clit “don’t you wanna make Daddy happy?”

“That’s not fair!” you pouted as Andy chuckled, and you could tell that he was doing all he could not to kiss you. “You promise to take it slow?”

“I won’t get aggressive until you tell me to.”

“I never tell you to,” you quickly defended.

“Sure you don’t, Sweetheart,” he laughed softly as he slowly pushed the head of the dildo into your pussy.

“Fuck!” you hissed at the pain new feeling of being stretched out. “Daddy!”

“I know, sweet girl, it’s okay,” he encouraged as he kept pushing it in further “just give it time.”

“Shit!” you moaned as the toy filled you, trying to stop the tears that were brimming in your eyes from spilling out. “Andy please!”

“I know, baby,” he urges gently as he starts to move it in and out of you slowly “just give it a minute,” he egged on before kissing your forehead.

You knew it was against the rules that you two set but, in that moment, you’re more than happy for the soft display of affection. In the short amount of time that you two had your little arrangement set up, Andy had done his best to figure out what you truly loved and what you tolerated. He knew when you were doing something to make him happy, and when you were doing something that you genuinely enjoyed and made you happy. That’s what got him off.

You slowly learned that Andy loved to please you. If you weren’t satisfied, he didn’t get off. He hated finishing before you did and he hated when finished yourself off instead of him.

“Fuck! Andy!” you moaned as the pain slowly started to turn into pleasure.

“Yeah? You like that, Sweetheart?” he groaned as he started to pick up his pace.

“Please...please don’t stop,” begged, your toes curling once he turned it on. “Fuck! It’s a fucking vibrator?!” you squealed as your back arched.

“You know I love to surprise you,” Andy chuckled as he started to pick up the pace. “You’re the best little slut I’ve ever had. Did you know that, Sweetheart?”

“No Daddy!” you whimpered as you tried to hold off on your release. “I just wanna make you happy!” you mindlessly confessed, too blissed out to mask your feelings.

“Yeah? You really like making me happy?”

“Yes! I love making you happy, Daddy! I love it when you’re satisfied!”

“Then cum for me,” he demanded hotly against the shell of your ear. “Cum for me right now, baby!”

“Shit!” you whimpered, gripping the sheets as you cum hard for him. “Fuck,” you sighed, trying to regulate your breathing.

“You know, I should be mad at you,” he said in a warning tone, still hovering over and looking you over. His pupils lust blown.

“Wh...what did I do?” you stuttered, your excitement quickly building again.

“You still won’t let me taste or fuck this perfect little pussy, you think that’s fair?”

“You know better, Daddy.”

“I still don’t fucking like it,” he muttered darkly, sitting up before turning off the vibrator and slowly pulling it out of you.

“Daddy!” you whined, not liking how empty you felt.

“You’re such a little brat, you know that?”

“Well, whose fault is that?” you snapped glaring at him.

“Oh, so you’re gonna get smart with me now? You clearly wannna get punished tonight,” he smirked with a dark chuckle. “You’re gonna suck this dildo clean, before sucking Daddy’s cock until I’m satisfied.”

“No, I’m sorry! I’ll be so good-”

“Too late, open up,” he demanded with a cocked brow.

That night, Andy kept you on your knees for over an hour and fucked your mouth until you were both too blissed out.

It’s not that you don’t want to fuck him, but taking that step will just make things too complicated and you know it. The only thing that makes you so sure are the fact that they’re nights when he doesn’t want sex at all. Yeah, he still wants you topless, but he mainly wants you to lay by him while he’s working on a case.

“So wait,” you sighed, sitting up, “what’s the issue? I’m missing something here.”

“You and me both, Baby,” he sighed, laying his head against the headboard.

“Isn’t it evident that the guy has a history of violence?”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s obvious that he was in location in question at the time of the assault, right?”

“He was in the area, but there’s nothing to pin him to being at the park at that time.”

“Well, there’s nothing to show that he wasn’t either. What did the victim say? She takes that route as a shortcut, but she only felt comfortable because of the amount of security cameras there?”

“Yeah, which is why I’m so fucking pissed that the trail keeps going cold whenever I think I’ve made a break in the case.”

“Okay, well, lets stop and think,” you propositioned as you leaned your head against the headboard. “The guy met her at the store, right? That’s how they got to talking?”

“Yeah?”

“Now, they both have said that he asked her out a few times, and each time she said no. I think it’s fairly clear that this guy became a little obsessed with her. I think he started stalking her and started following her patterns. If he’s as crazy as I believe he is, he probably noticed the cameras too. Noticed where they were and which ones worked and which ones didn’t.”

“They all work.”

“No they don’t. I know exactly what park she’s talking about and I know for a fact that some of those cameras are just for show. I got mugged there a few years ago. That park’s got dummy cameras, which makes no sense cause they could just fix the ones that don’t work, but whatever. Those are my tax dollars hard at work,” you muttered, rolling your eyes before grabbing your drink before taking a sip of it.

“Wait...what?”

“They have dummy camera’s in the park, Andy. They look like they work but they don’t, they keep them up anyway as a deterrent. But some of the cameras actually do work. The part of the park where she was attacked, they’re 2 dummy cameras there. I’m more than sure that one of those cameras at least got a shot of him.”

“Y/N, you’re a fucking genius, did you know that?” he beamed at you before practically bouncing off the bed, phone in hand, before dialing Lynne’s number.

When he saw you the next night, he gave you a silver chained necklace with a diamond red rose at the center of it.

“Andy,” you gasped, “you didn’t have to do this,” pressing your fingers to the necklace. “This is too much.”

“Thanks to you, little Miss, we were able to go over the footage from those dummy cameras and the case practically made itself,” he smirked as you both looked yourself over in the mirror. “It’s just my small way of saying thank you. You saved my ass.”

“It must have cost-”

“Don’t worry about the cost. Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Then keep it,” he smiled before pressing a soft kiss into your hair.

In those moments, you truly are at war with yourself over your feelings towards Andy. You’re not stupid. You know the arrangement and how he feels, but fuck all if he doesn’t make you feel like you’re the most important person in the world sometimes. The way he can be so gentle and soft with you. The look in his eyes when he’s simply checking on you or after he gives you an intense orgasm. The way he confides in you about work, Jacob, or Laurie. He has a way of blurring the lines, and while it makes you insanely frustrated and annoyed, you also don’t want him to stop.

That doesn’t mean that it’s always sunshine and rainbows between you two.

“Andy, you sound like a fucking idiot right now, stop it,” you griped as you got on the bed and laid down on it.

“You were the one all over-”

“All over?! Andy, your co-worker said hi to and hit on me, which I politely rejected. Why the fuck you’re so upset is beyond me, but it’s not my job to figure it out.”

“Exactly! Your job is to do whatever I pay you for, like a fucking slut is supposed-”

“A slut?!” you exclaimed as you sat up. “I’m the fucking slut, but you’re paying me just so you can fuck me with a fucking vibrator?! But I’m the slut?!”

“I may be the one paying, but you’re the one who’s more than happy to take the fucking money!”

“Fuck you!” you spat before getting off the bed and starting to get dressed. “Go find someone else to bitch to about Laurie! Or to whine to about the cases you can’t figure out! Go ahead! Go fucking do it! Go do it and see who genuinely gives a shit about you! Who genuinely gives a shit about seeing you happy!”

“Y/N-”

“GO!” you roared as you pulled your top on. “I’m fucking done! Literally everything is going wrong in my life! I don’t need your shit on top of it! Go pay someone else $10,000 to play mistress with!”

“Stop it-”

“I’m done!” you yelled before grabbing your things and storming out.

Andy left you alone for two days before he finally caved and text you.

Barber: I’m sorry.

Y/N: I fucking hate you.

Barber: No you don’t.

Y/N: How the fuck would you know?

Barber: Because you responded.

Y/N: Go bother someone else. I’m done. If I lose my job, I lose my fucking job.

Barber: I wouldn’t let Samantha fire you and you should know that by now.

Y/N: Well, you were all too willing to let her before.

Barber: Things change. It doesn’t matter. Just come in tomorrow, I’ll make it up to you.

Y/N: I don’t want to see you.

Barber: Y/N, just please.

Y/N: I’ll fucking think about it.

Of course, you caved and went the next day, but you went fully dressed and didn’t even bother to make him his drink

“I’m not even slightly surprised about this,” he scoffed humorlessly as he closed the door behind him.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you stated flatly, arms folded across your chest.

“Y/N-”

“No Andy. You’re far too comfortable with belittling me when you’re not happy about something in your own life. You don’t think I have shit going on that pisses me off? That frustrates me?”

“In my defense, I barely know anything about you.”

“Apparently, it’s better that way, cause you’ll probably use it against me.”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

“You still said it!”

“I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry,” he sighed mournfully as he leaned against the wall. “You’re the one part of my life right now that doesn’t drive me crazy. No, I don’t like it when any of these other assholes talk to you, let alone look at you, because they don’t deserve to. I was already angry when I got here the other day, so when I saw Tyler talking to you, I lost my cool. You’re my girl-”

“No, I’m not Andy,” you sighed as you felt your eyes start to water. “I’m not anyone’s girl.”

“For 4 hours, you are my girl.”

“Andy...we should stop now.”

“Why? I like spending time with you and you like spending time with me.”

“We’re not dating, Andy. You pay me for sexual favors and that’s it. We’re not in love, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, and we aren’t together.”

“There’s nothing wrong with two people enjoying each other’s company.”

“Tell that to Mary,” you scoffed, shifting your weight from one foot to another.

“What’s she upset about? We’re not fucking.”

“We’re just as good as!”

“Listen, you say you need this money, and if she’s your best friend, she should support it. Especially seeing as she’s the one who got you into all of this.”

“Don’t. That’s not fair Andy,” you warned, straightening up a bit. “That’s a low blow and you know it. Jesus, why do you want me to stay so bad?”

“Cause you’re not like the other girls, Y/N. I’m not saying that I want to get married, but I at least wanna be your friend. Your friend with benefits,” he smirked.

“That doesn’t seem like such a good idea for us either.”

“It’s not a bad one.”

“Then what happens when you decide you wanna stop?”

“Then we’re just friends,” he shrugged.

You were thoughtful before you spoke. “You can’t talk to me like that ever again, Andy. I mean it. Do it again and I’m done.”

“It’ll never happen again, I promise,” he stated sincerely, and you couldn’t help but believe him. All you did was nod before starting to pull your shirt up. “What are you doing?”

“What I’m supposed to?”

“I told you, I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m taking you out.”

“Wh..what? Taking me out where?”

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Then this works out perfectly.”

“Andy, wherever you plan on taking me...I’m not dressed for it, no matter what outfit I’m wearing.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m taking somewhere that I’m sure you’ll love. Grab your stuff, lets go,” he smiled at you.

It’s not like you could ignore all the stares that were burning themselves into the both of your heads as you two walked out, but what could you do? At the end of the day, no matter what Andy said, you still had to do whatever he wanted. Sure, his words were sweet and nice enough, but they were still just words.

The car ride to wherever he was taking you was filled with awkward silence, while you tried to find a decent radio station, but nothing seemed right. However, happiness overwhelms you when he pulls up to O’Hara’s Food & Spirits.

“Who told you?!” you beamed as you looked out the window.

“Who told me what?” Andy chuckled, genuinely confused by the change in your demeanor.

“That this place means everything to me! This is one of my most...who told you?”

“No one? I just thought you’d like it,” he smiled sincerely.

That’s when your feelings for Andy truly started to change. O’Hara’s was special to you, because it had been a place you and your mom would go to once (maybe twice if the money was there) a month when you both just wanted a night out. It was just the both of you and you both had decided a stress free Mother/Daughter dinner was the best thing every once in a while.

When her sickness got worse, you had to stop, because she couldn’t physically handle it. Being parked in front of the restaurant brought back so many happy memories, that you couldn’t help but shed a few tears.

The fact that Andy had thought (on his own) that you’d like a place like that, meant more to you than you were ready to admit. The best you could do was lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

“You did great, Andy,” you smiled at him “I love this place.”

“You ready to eat?” Andy grinned at you sheepishly.

“Lets go.”

Almost as soon as you two made your way inside, waiters and waitresses were greeting you, happy to see you and asking about your Mother.

“Okay, you’ve gotta tell me something,” Andy pressed as the waiter walked away with the drink order.

“Tell you something about what?”

“Well, you kissed my cheek in the car, every server in here seems to be happy to see you, and they all keep asking about your mom,” he stated matter-of-factly. “At least give me something.”

You sighed heavily as the waiter dropped off your drink orders, before taking your meal orders and walking off. “I used to come here with my Mother after...after everything that had happened, we decided that Mother/Daughter dinners would be good. When we could afford it, it was nice for us to just have a night where we didn’t worry about drama, dishes, cooking, work...it was just us talking and talking having a nice time, and forgetting for a bit. When she first got sick, we still kept it up because we were hopeful. As she got sicker, I started placing orders for pick up. Then I stopped ordering all together because there were other things to take care of.”

“How is she now?”

You swirled your drink around in your glass before taking a sip. “I work at the Club for a reason.” Andy’s silence made you roll your eyes. “This is why I don’t talk about it,” you scoffed humorlessly as your food arrived. “Besides the fact that it sucks and I don’t wanna think about it, I don’t need or want anyone feeling sorry for me either. I’m not some pity side show.”

“It’s not pity, I just feel like an asshole.”

“That’s because you are an asshole,” you smirked as he let out a soft chuckle.

From that moment on, the conversation was more lax and flowed easily. You both made each other laugh, challenged each other mentally, and found yourselves getting lost in conversations that you wouldn’t have with anyone else.

You both just enjoyed one another.

In fact, you both enjoyed one another so much, that you lost track of time.

“Ya know, I can’t remember the last time I stayed at a restaurant till closing,” Andy scoffed as he pulled up to the club, next to your car.

“I can’t remember the last time I went to a restaurant,” you laughed. “Thank you for apologizing and thank you for tonight. It was nice. When you’re not being a complete piece of shit, you’re a lot of fun to be around,” you smirked.

“I’m working on it, I’m working on it,” he chuckled. “Thank you for forgiving me and coming out tonight.”

“Yeah yeah, Barber,” you smirked before opening the car door and getting out. “Goodnight Andy.”

“Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

From then on, there was a shift between you two and everyone noticed.

“So, how’s Andy?” Mary slurred into the phone as you rolled your eyes.

“Can we not do this tonight? I’m really not in the mood,” you sighed as you laid on your bed in your room.

“All I did was ask-”

“No, all you’re doing is starting another argument that I don’t have the energy for. Do you even realize what day it is? It’s a Thursday, Mary. It’s Thursday and I’m not working, because he text me and told me not to come in and that he’ll see me next week. Which means he’s currently fucking someone else. So, whatever you think is going on, clearly isn’t,” you snapped.

“You seem pretty fucking irritated by that,” she scoffed, followed by a hiccup.

“No,” you lied, “I’m irritated because I don’t know what the fuck you want from me! I told you that I’d call the whole thing off and you said no. I asked you again the next night and you said no because it’s good money and I need it. Now, every other call or text is about Andy, and it’s like you’re mad at me for being upfront with you! If I don’t tell you, you’re mad at me! So Mary, what the fuck would you like for me to do?! Please tell me what the fuck you want!”

“I want him to stop loving you!” she cried. “You don’t think I hear myself?! You think I want to be a bitch?! I know I’m being an asshole, but what the fuck do you have that I don’t?!”

“For the millionth time, he doesn’t fucking love me,” you sighed.

“You both may be too fucking stupid to see it, but I’m not! He’s different with you! The gifts he gets you, the fact that you’re his main girl, the fact that he actually cares when he makes you upset...he’s definitely-”

“He’s definitely not and you’re thinking too much of it. I’m tired of having this talk, Mary. You’re my best friend and I’ve literally done everything in my power to do right by you, and it’s not fucking enough. You told me about the fucking job, I told you when he propositioned me, and I tell you the truth when you ask me about seeing him. So I really don’t know what the fuck you want out of me anymore, but I’m done trying to figure it out. Talk to me when you’re done obsessing over him,” you huffed before quickly hanging up.

You knew you’d pissed her off, but you didn’t think you’d actually pissed her off to the point where she’d go too far. But then again, she was drunk.

“Uh Y/N,” Allison called as she awkwardly walked over to you. “There’s someone here to talk to you.”

“Can you ask them to come back? I’m already behind and I need to get ready.”

“Uh...she says she’s your sister,” she all but mumbled.

The last bit of patience that you had snapped. “What?”

“I know you and Mary got into a huge argument, but please don’t-”

“I’m gonna fucking kill her,” you growled before grabbing your bag and making your way to the entrance. “Outside,” was all you said before breezing past your sister. “What do you want?”

“So this is what you do? Instead of making peace with me and accepting my help? Dad’s help? You do this?!”

“Don’t paint yourself as some fucking God, Vivian,” you scoffed. “You both fucking left. I called you when she got sick and where were you?”

“That was then-”

“Where were you?! Not fucking here! So, I took on three fucking jobs so I could help pay for her medical expenses, because her job didn’t help with shit! The little bit of money dad bothered to leave before running off with his young bride keeps the lights on and the water running! When I put my pride aside and went to you for help, your fucking assistant kept saying you couldn’t be reached! When I text and called you, you never returned either of them! When she got worse, I tried reaching out to you again, because I was missing out on time with her, but once again, you couldn’t be bothered!”

“Y/N-”

“No! You don’t get to come here and judge me! Acting like you’re some fucking patron saint because you’ve come riding in on your white horse at the last possible fucking minute! Mary is the one who told me about this job. Did your new best friend even bother to tell you that?!” You practically screamed at her. Her silence told you everything you needed to know, as her eyes started to well with tears. “Oh, don’t fucking start crying me a river now, Viv. You don’t know the hell I’ve gone through trying to keep Mom as comfortable and happy as possible! Fucking waitressing here till closing, getting little to no sleep, spending as much time as possible with her as I can, just to have to leave again and come back here! So yes, when a nice man offered to pay me $10,000 just to fucking stand topless in his room and pour him drinks, you bet your ass I fucking took it! It’s not my fault that Mary is in love with him! Did she tell you that I told her I won’t take it? Or that I checked with her multiple times to make sure she’d be okay with it? That she’s the one who told me to take the money because it was good? No, she fucking didn’t! Everyone is so quick to fucking bitch me out and throw stones, but I’ve been busting my ass trying to figure this shit out and I’ve been doing it alone! So you can go straight to hell with your fucking judgment! You care so fucking much? No, you need to get rid of the fucking guilt you feel because you’re a piece of shit!”

“Y/N, please just-”

“Get the fuck out of here! We’re done here and my shift is about to start,” you boil before turning and walking away.

The minute you stormed back inside, both Allison and Lindsey were on your heels.

“Please calm down,” Lindsey begged, “just text Andy and tell him you can’t-”

“She fucking called my sister?!” you yelled as you aggressively pressed the ‘up’ button on the elevator. “She called my sister and of course bothered to leave out all the parts that would make her look like a piece of shit, right? Cause I’m such a greedy little bitch!”

“Wouldn’t get too comfortable in that suite, Honey,” Madison scoffed as the elevator doors finally opened. “The way Andy fucked me last week...looks like he’s about over you.”

You went to lunge at her but both Allison and Lindsey held you back.

“Fuck off Madison, or I’ll choke you to death myself,” Lindsey warned with a low growl that had Madison running in the opposite direction.

“Hun, please don’t-”

“Nope, I’m a fucking professional. I’m a horrible best friend, and a slut, but I’m also a professional and I will not call out last minute,” you scoffed. “Fuck, I forgot the the stupid drink!”

“I’ll get it,” Allison sighed, “just get up there. The last thing I need is for you to run into Madison and kill her. It’s not like she doesn’t deserve it, but still,” she mutters.

The minute you’re in the room, you pull out your phone and start typing furiously.

Y/N: We’re fucking done. You are dead to me. You told Vivian of ALL people?! I would’ve NEVER done something like that to you! I’ve always done my best to be the best friend I can be, I’ve always done my best to be there for you, and you pull this shit because you’ve decided Andy is in love with me?! I fucking told you I’d stop seeing him and YOU told me not to! So you can fuck right off and go to hell!

By the time Allison got to the room, you were furiously pacing.

“Y/N-”

“I really can’t talk about it right now, Allison. I love you to death, but I can’t do this and have this talk.”

“Just please don’t do anything you’ll regret out of anger. What Mary did was completely fucked, but don’t let it drive the choices you make tonight,” she pleaded softly before setting the tray down and walking out.

You let her words roll around as you got ready, but you couldn’t calm down. After you finished up in the bathroom, you filled your glass and started drinking. When Andy didn’t show up on time, you continued to drink.

By the time he got there, you were teeter-tottering between tipsy and drunk.

“You’re late,” you slurred, not getting up from the chair as you took a sip from your glass. The look on his face let you know that he was already pissed about something. “Uh oh, someone’s mad,” you giggled.

“I thought I told you I wanted you loose, not drunk,” he stated with an irritated sigh.

“Well, lets just add it on to the list of things I’m doing wrong today, cause it apparently is every fucking thing,” you shrugged before finishing off your drink and pouring yourself another. “Anyway, you’re late. Why are you late, Mr. Barber? The members of the jury are dying to know.”

“Laurie,” was all he said as he looked you over.

“Ah yes, the evil witch. Your wife.”

“Watch it,” he warned as he unbuttoned the sleeve buttons on his shirt and rolled them up.

“That’s right, I’m not allowed to use the ‘w’ word,” you scoffed. “Cause then we’re both reminded how bad we feel.”

“What the fuck is with you tonight?” he finally snapped.

“I got two hours of sleep, Andy. You wanna know why? Because my Mother had a really bad night and I was handling it, by my fucking self, like I do everything else in my life. Can’t do much because it’s hospice, so ya know, she’s just going to fucking die at home no matter what, ya know? But that’s fine. I’ve come to terms with that. So, I took care of her and got her to calm down, then I cried for about an hour before falling asleep. Woke up two hours later, made her some food, gave her medicine that helps her deal with the pain. I told Gloria, her wonderful nurse, about her episode last night, then left to come here. Ya know what happened when I fucking got here? I’ll tell you,” you smiled sarcastically before taking a sip of your drink. “My fucking cunt of a sister was here to berate me for working at this lovely little Gentlemen’s Club. Of course, it’s not like I didn’t try to ask for her help financially when our Mother was first diagnosed. She couldn’t be fucking bothered, because she was still hanging onto her misplaced anger about our father walking out, but now the both of them are coming in at the last fucking minute and I’m supposed to be fucking grateful. The fact that I open my legs for you makes her better than me,” you laughed humorlessly.

Andy’s demeanor softened, and you could see that he felt awful. “Baby-”

“Oh wait, it gets better!” you scoffed as you poured him a drink “C’mon, have a drink with me! We’re having fun!”

“Sweetheart-”

“Andy, you have to drink with me! I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet!” you encouraged, holding out the glass. Andy sighed but reluctantly took the glass and took a sip from it. “Thank you! Now, for the best part, you wanna know who told my sister I work here? No? That’s fine, it’s less climatic if you guess. It was Mary!” you beamed as Andy dropped his head in frustration. “Do you wanna know why she told her? Because she’s convinced that you’re in love with me! She called me last week, for what has to be the millionth fucking time, about it and I fucking snapped. So, in return, she ratted me out. Didn’t think the little bitch had it in her, but well fucking played,” you muttered before taking another sip of your drink.

“Sweetheart, please-”

“But I keep telling her you don’t love me, because you don’t. If you loved me, you wouldn’t only see me here, you wouldn’t pay me for my fucking company, and you wouldn’t have fucked Madison senseless last week, little cunt. Oh! That reminds me, since you fucked hers so good last week, she’s under the impression that you’re gonna put me out to pasture soon, so I guess I should really make our last few days together pretty fucking great.”

“Stop it, Sweetheart. Just stop it. Nothing is changing any time soon.”

“You paid me $10,000, but you were busy with her, so I guess I didn’t really earn the whole thing, did I? Should I give you back $5,000? $6,000? Wanna make sure I’m being fair about this whole thing.”

“You don’t have to give any of it back, baby. Please just-”

“Oh, hold that thought,” you interrupted as your phone started to ring and you got up to answer it. “I have a pretty good fucking idea who that could be!” you beamed as you made your way into the bedroom. “Mary! How did I fucking know?”

“Y/N, please just hear me out-”

“Oh, no tears! No tears cause guess what? Guess who’s here! Andy!” you beamed, making your way out of the room and back into the living area, putting your phone on speaker. “Say hi, Andy!”

“Sweetheart, don’t do this,” he begged softly.

“What do you mean? This is gonna be so much fucking fun! Cause you can finally tell Mary why you don’t love her! You can finally tell her what’s so fucking wrong that you just couldn’t love her back!”

“Stop it-”

“You don’t wanna say anything? That’s fine, cause I’ll say what I think! Ya know Mary, I think it’s just because you’re a selfish fucking bitch! I think it’s because you just care about your own selfish needs and wants, because it doesn’t seem to matter who you hurt in the process, just so long as you feel better about your fucking self!” you snapped.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N! I was just angry and I was drunk-”

“I was your best fucking friend you fucking snake! I’ve done nothing but go out of my fucking way for you time after time and this is how you look out for me?! This is how you tell me you love me?! You go to Vivian, of all fucking people, and you tell her?! After everything she fucking did?!”

“Please, just hear me out-”

“No, because there’s nothing you can fucking say that will justify the way you betrayed me! Even if Andy does love me, even if I have feelings for him, did you really think I would hurt you like that?! That I would try and have something with him even though it would hurt you?! Break your heart?! I’m not you!”

“Y/N-”

“You’re fucking dead to me, Mary. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t come the fucking funeral, don’t ask about me, just stay the fuck away!” you yelled before hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room.

“Sweetheart, take a deep breath,” Andy begged as he made his way towards you.

“I’m fine! Fan-fucking-tastic!”

“Stop it, just stop it,” he sighed as he tried to wrap his arms around you.

“You stop, because I’m fine. We’ll do exactly what you pay me for.”

“Y/N-”

“What Andy? What? You’re the reason she fucked me over, the least I can fucking do is actually let you fuck me. You pay me $10,000, so I may as well just let you fuck me, finally. She thinks we’re fucking all the time anyway, so lets just fucking do it!”

“Sweetheart,” he sighed heavily. “you should know better by now...just come here.”

“No! I’m fine!” you started to cry as you backed away from him. Andy said nothing as he kept coming towards you. “Stop it!” you yelled as you backed yourself into a wall, tears now streaming freely. When he finally wrapped his arms around you, you fought against him. “I don’t need your sympathy because I’m fine!” you yelled, trying to fight against him.

“Baby, you’re not fine. Just calm down,” he cooed, not breaking his hold as he gently stroked your back.

“I’m fine!” you repeated, finally giving in to him. “I’m fine,” you sobbed.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he cooed and you could hear the strain in his voice.

At some point he picked you up, carried you to the bed, and laid you down gently. When he went to walk away, you pulled him back to you.

“Don’t,” he warned softly.

“But I want to.”

“You’re drunk, Sweetheart.”

“So what? I still want to.”

“If you still want to when you’re sober, I’ll be more than happy to, but you need to lay down right now.”

“Andy-”

“Just rest, Sweetheart,” he told you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before walking away.

You were in and out of sleep that night, mainly because you just wanted to feel Andy. Even if it was just him holding you, you wanted him close. At some point, you woke up to him yelling at someone.

His tone was throwing you off, and you couldn’t tell if he was yelling at Mary or Laurie.

“How could you do that to her?! She’s supposed to be your best friend!”

Mary.

“It doesn’t fucking matter what you think of me!...See, this is part of the fucking problem! This is why I can’t fucking love you! You don’t think about the things you say or do! You don’t fucking hold yourself accountable for anything! You have your own ideas, try to force them on everyone, then get mad when things don’t go the way you think they should!...She was your best friend! Despite what happened between us, you had no right to railroad her life like that! On top of everything else, now she has to deal with this too?! ..Good! You should feel like shit!...I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Mary. I’m done with you...no, I fucking mean it this time. Don’t call or text this number again!”

You stared at the ceiling as you tried to keep your emotions at bay, but you now had a million more questions rolling around in your head. Had they been talking the whole time? Was he seeing her? Had he fucked her recently?

“You’re up,” Andy smiled softly.

“Water,” was all you responded with before sitting up, quickly realizing that you were still very drunk.

“I’ll get it for you,” he chuckled softly.

The question left your mouth before you could stop it. “Have you been seeing her the entire time?’

“Ah, so you heard that,” he sighed as he made his way back inside, putting the water down beside you. “I wasn’t seeing her. She text me about a week after we started this, and asked me why I chose you. I told her I liked you. I liked the way you carried yourself, I liked your smile, I liked your subtle way of rejecting men, I liked your laugh...I liked you. Of course, she didn’t like that and wanted me to break it off and I told her no. We argued and she hung up on me. A few days later, she text me and asked if we could have dinner and I told her I don’t think it would be a good idea, but she insisted, so I met her for dinner. We talked, she cried, and we came to the conclusion that I was going to keep seeing you. She tried to talk me into going back to her place with her, I said no, and she left. She’s been texting me on and off, I’m assuming when she’s drunk, but I haven’t been responding,” he finished, getting beside you. “How do you feel?”

“Drunk, angry, and hungry.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“You’re already taking care of me, please don’t feed me,” you muttered, taking a sip of water. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize for anything,” he quickly interrupted.

“I need to though, because that...that was bad.”

“You’ve been holding a lot in and you have a lot going on. That would’ve sent anyone over the edge because it was fucked up. I obviously don’t know the whole story, but she does. She had no right to do that to you.”

“Still...I had a fucking meltdown,” you groaned, laying your head on his shoulder as he laughed softly.

“Yeah, now I know how much to avoid your bad side.”

“As if you don’t already,” you chuckled softly. “Andy?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing?”

“Lets not get into that right now,” he sighed.

“Why not? We need to. I asked you if you love me and you couldn’t give me an answer.”

“Y/N-” ”Andy, was she right? Do you love me?”

“No,” he sighed “but I’d be lying if I said I don’t have feelings for you. Strong feelings for you which is why I told you just take those days to yourself, because I just needed to distance myself from you. I don’t want to stop but I can’t keep spending all my time with you, because if I do...”

“If you do, what?”

“I will fall in love with you and I don’t want that. I don’t wanna fall in love with anyone else ever again,” he mumbled before getting out of bed and making himself a drink.

“Then why don’t we just stop now?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” you mumbled, just as frustrated as he was.

“Well, do you love me?”

“No, I don’t believe I do, but I do like you. I like you to the point that it pisses me off that you fucked Madison, of all people.”

“Yeah well, she’s fired anyway.”

“Andy! What did you do?!”

“She shouldn’t have said what she said to you,” he shrugged as he got back in next you.

“Andy, you can’t just have people fired because I don’t like them.”

“I can and I did.”

“For fucks sake,” you whined, getting close to him. “Andy, you’re gonna make everyone here hate me.”

“Then don’t work here anymore. You barely work here now.”

“Stop, don’t start that,” you quickly dismissed.

“I can take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I’m well aware, but you don’t have to.”

“You just said you don’t want a relationship or to fall in love again. Don’t set me up just to hurt me.”

“Just because I don’t want those things doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you.”

“I’m fine as I am now.”

“No you’re not.”

“I don’t wanna argue about this.”

“Just...just think about it, okay?”

“No, because that means that I am yours and I don’t wanna be some ready made whore.”

“You wouldn’t be!”

“Yes, I would be. I basically am now, since you pay me to only see you while you get to see whoever you want.”

“If you’re that so hard on about it, you can see other guys,” he muttered and he didn’t do much to hide the irritation in his tone.

“You say that but you’re already pissed at the thought.”

“You’re right, lets not argue about this tonight,” he huffed. “What do you wanna eat?”

“Nothing.”

“Stop it. You need to eat.”

“I’m fine.”

“Jesus Y/N!”

“What Andy?! What?! We’re two idiots in like with each other and neither one of us wants to be. You don’t wanna stop and I don’t wanna stop, but we’re also trying to keep this as ‘just friends’. How fucking stupid are we?!” you exclaimed.

Andy sighed in defeat and hung his head. “I won’t take up so much of your time and I won’t get mad-”

“Yes you will, just like I’ll get upset when you sleep with other women. Lets not fucking lie to ourselves. I’m too drunk and too tired.”

“Then what do you propose we do?”

“Stop. I don’t like it and you don’t either, but I don’t see any other way.”

“So, I’m just supposed to watch every other guy flirt with you and be okay with it?”

“I’m supposed to watch other women sleep with you and be okay with it?”

“What will make you happy?”

“If you kiss me,” you stated softly.

“Don’t.”

“You asked me.”

“It goes against your rules.”

“I let you fuck me with a vibrator, I send you nudes, I blow you, I let you spit in my mouth, I send you videos...I’m pretty sure we’re way past my fucking rules.”

“I told you before, not while you’re-”

“I’m not asking you to fuck me, I’m asking you to kiss me. You asked me what will make me happy, and being kissed by you will make me happy.”

Andy was hesitant before he dipped down and kissed you softly. The kiss was soft and sweet, but it wasn’t enough for you. You pulled him closer and deepened it, sliding your tongue across his bottom lip.

In no time at all, you were straddling him and making out with him, grinding your hips against his as his hands travel up your bare back.

“We should stop,” Andy husked as you two broke apart. “We should stop before I can’t.”

“Just a little bit more please, Daddy?”

“You’re nothing but trouble when you’re drunk,” he chuckled darkly. “You know exactly what you do to me but you keep pushing.”

“If you really want me to stop, I’ll stop,” you told him honestly.

“Like I said earlier, baby. If you still want this when you’re sober, I’ll be more than happy to do whatever you want over and over again. Until then,”

“I’ll wait,” you whined as he chuckled.

“You’re so fucking sexy, did you know that?”

“You have said it a time or two.”

“Lay down, you. You need your rest.”

“I should be getting home soon-”

“I told Allison about tonight and she said she’ll go to your place and ask...Gloria? She’ll ask her to stay for the night.”

“How pissed was Allison?”

“She said she’ll talk to you about it tomorrow.”

“Fucking great,” you muttered, slowly getting off of him and settling yourself under the covers.

“Just sleep for now, Sweetheart,” Andy told you softly before pressing a kiss into your hair.

From that night on, you and Andy did your best to try and distance yourselves from one another. Andy still paid you the same, but let you go back to serving tables. It’s not as if you were happy about the return, because every guy thought they’d be able to take you upstairs. There was no one who believed you hadn’t slept with Andy, no matter what either of you said, but you were beyond caring. Nothing was getting better at home and you knew your days with were coming to an end.

It didn’t help that, with you going back to serving tables, Andy went back to sleeping with the other girls. On those nights, he made it a point to avoid you and you knew it was because he didn’t want to make you upset. However, you had both decided that, if were going to keep seeing each other as you were, you were both going to need to stop spending so much time together.

With that being said, Tuesdays and Fridays are your favorite days, because they’re the days you two reserve for each other.

“Fuck! Daddy, I love it when you eat my pussy!” you whimper, clawing at his back as you arch your own.

You caved about two weeks after “the incident” and decided that you two needed physical contact. No, he still hadn’t fucked you, but you two always found ways around that.

“Gonna cum for you so soon! Please!” you moan, your release building up.

Andy slides two fingers into your soaked pussy, while his tongue focuses all of its attention on your clit, his grip on your right thigh getting painfully tighter, only adding to your pleasure.

“Fuck!” you yell, cumming all over his fingers, tossing your head back as the relief of your release washes over you.

Andy fucks you with his fingers a little bit longer before removing his finger and holding them up for you to lick and suck clean, while he continued to clean up the mess between your legs.

“Made me wait so fucking long to taste this pussy,” he pants when he finally decides he’s finished.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you moan as he kisses up your body, stopping to lick and suck on each of your nipples, before continuing a trail up to your lips, kissing you deeply. You run your hands through his hair, loving how obsessed he is with every inch of you, trying to bring him as close to you as possible.

“I missed you, Sweetheart,” he breathes hotly against your ear as one of his hands travels down between your legs. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you too! Shit!” you hiss, feeling yourself come to life for him again.

“Yeah? Did you let any of those assholes down there touch you?”

“N-no! No one can touch me besides you, Daddy!”

“Such a good little slut for me,” he groans as you start to stroke him. “Fuck baby!”

“Any of the other girls get you excited as I do?”

“You know they don’t, baby. They can’t even come close, fuck! Just like that!,” he moans into your neck before biting and sucking on the part of it that always makes you crazy for him.

“Andy! Andy please!” you beg, clawing down his back. “Fuck, I need it! Need to feel you, all of you!” you beg.

That has him stopping.

“Sweetheart...?”

“I’m ready, Andy. I need to feel you,” you pant sincerely.

“Baby, are you sure?”

“I want you, Andy. All of you,” you tell him as you cup his face.

“Get dressed, baby,” he tells you as he forces himself upright and gets off the bed.

“W-what?”

“Our first time, your first time, isn’t gonna be in some fucking whore house. I-”

“Watch it,” you warn, sitting up and searching for your panties.

“You know what I mean. This isn’t the place for something like that. This isn’t the place for us.”

“It’s where we met,” you counter before pulling your skirt on then grabbing your bra and putting it on.

“Stop arguing and follow me out,” he smirks before pinning you against the wall and kissing you deeply.

“I don’t wanna wait anymore, Andy,” you breathe once you two break apart.

“It’s gonna be worth it, I promise.”

You quickly finish getting dressed before Andy leaves and you follow behind a few minutes after.

“Is everything okay?” Lindsey asks as you step out of the elevator. “Andy seemed in a rush to get out of here.”

“Yeah no, everything is fine. We just...uh...”

“Oh,” she smirks. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“if there’s anyone I trust for something like this, it’s Andy,” you confess, trying to hide your smile as your phone buzzes.

“I’m not trying to rain your parade, but you know that Mary won’t forgive you for this.”

“Well, I don’t forgive her so I don’t care.”

“She feels awful, Y/N.”

“Did she tell you that Andy called her that night and told her to never talk to her again?”

“Wait what?”

“Exactly, she doesn’t feel bad because she should. She feels bad because Andy won’t talk to her, and she think he’ll warm up to her if she makes nice to me. Linds, I’m not dumb. I know the whole place think we’re in love, but we’re not. We have an understanding. He does his own thing and I do mine. Of course, we both like each other, a lot, but he doesn’t want a relationship and I don’t want my heart broken. That’s why things are the way they are. We both have a clear understanding of what things are.”

“He fucks other girls but you don’t fuck other guys?”

“Because I don’t want to. I barely wanted to fuck Andy before I got to know him,” you scoff.

“Just be careful, babe. Be careful and have fun,” she smiles at you.

You give her big hug before practically running out of the building and to your car. You check your phone to see that Andy’s sent you to the address to the place he wants you to meet him at and you can’t help but feel relief that it’s not his house.

You’d dropped him off a time or two when he’d been too drunk to get himself home (too upset with Laurie and some of the choices he’d made), and even that always made you terrified. Yeah, Andy swears he’s in open marriage but, somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re never sure if you can truly believe that. People will say anything to get what they want.

Your phone buzzes again while you’re at a stop light and the smile on your face quickly falls away when you see who it’s from.

Twin Flame: Please talk to me. I’m so fucking sorry and, if you could just hear me out, I really think we can work this out. Please, I miss you.

Y/N: Fuck off.

When you finally reach your destination, those damn butterflies appear all over again. You feel strange and you don’t know why. It’s not like you and Andy been physical (what feels like ) a million times before, so why does this have you so nervous?

You jump as your phone goes off, forcing you out of your thoughts.

“Where are you?” Andy asks as soon as you answer.

“In the parking lot.”

“Then why don’t I see you?”

“Where are you?” you chuckle, making your way to the entrance of the lavish hotel.

“In the lobby,” he responds and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“You’re such a smart ass,” you scoff.

“And you’re slow. Get your gorgeous ass in here,” he chides before hanging up.

You quickly make your way inside and the moment Andy spots you, he makes his way over to you and kisses you deeply, clearly not caring about the lobby full of people.

“Andy,” you breathe softly with a small chuckle as you two break away “someone could see.”

“So what? Who cares?”

“You will when we’re done.”

Andy opens his mouth to say something, but stops short and chuckles instead. “Lets get to our room, huh?”

You don’t miss the way the older receptionist looks at you with pure disgust, and you can’t blame her. Andy is older and wearing a wedding ring, and you? Well, your outfit isn’t in the least bit modest, no wedding ring, and you don’t look old enough to be the wife who lost your ring.

“Is there a problem?” Andy asks, noticing how uncomfortable you are.

“No problem at all, Mr. Barber,” the woman quickly smiles as she hands him the room key.

“Leave her alone, Andy,” you mutter, knowing the he’ll have no issue with seeing to it that she gets fired.

Andy looks from you to the woman before nodding. “Thank you,” is all he says before taking your hand and walking off.

“What was that about?” you ask as soon as you two are in the elevator.

“I didn’t like how she was looking at you, and I didn’t like how uncomfortable you were.”

“Andy, it’s not like we’re a couple. There’s a wedding ring on your finger and there isn’t one on mine. I don’t blame her,” you shrug.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what? Telling the truth?”

“Sweetheart, we don’t say it, but we know this is more than just some arrangement at this point. What I decide to do with my time away from Laurie isn’t anyone’s concern. When I’m with you, you’re my main concern.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls,” you chuckle humorlessly.

“Let me fix that; no matter what I do with anyone else, you’re my main concern,” he corrects with a stern voice as his intense gaze softens on you.

“Andy-”

“You know you mean so much to me. Too much to me. Stop saying you’re some mistress, because we both know you aren’t,” he states as the elevator finally reaches the top floor.

“As long as you’re married-”

“Jacob graduates soon, and when he does, my marriage is over. That’s what Laurie wanted, so that’s what she’s getting.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want nothing more.”

“Then what happens?”

“With what?”

“Oh, don’t play coy now,” you smirk as you two reach the hotel room.

“I’m not going to lie and say I’ll want a relationship, because I’m still not there. I honestly don’t know if I ever will be, but I know how I feel about you. I know that I won’t want to stop seeing you, and I hope you won’t want to stop seeing me,” he sighs as he leans against the door. “I know I’m a wreck, Y/N. I never told you I wasn’t, but you...there’s just something about you and I can’t let you go. I don’t want to. I like having you to myself, the way you look at me when you’re fighting the urge to kiss me, the way you roll your eyes when you’re fed up but trying to be polite. I like how loyal you are, how strong and independent you are, how generous you are, how feisty you are...I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot. I don’t do things like this. You see how I do things. I take what I want and I leave. I don’t care how anyone else feels as long as I get my way, but with you...God, I just wanna make you happy.”

“Why Andy? Why me?”

“I really wish I knew, Sweetheart,” he chuckles humorlessly “then maybe I could finally figure out how to be a better man and let you go. However,” he sighs softly leaning in close and wrapping an arm your waist “I’m just not there yet and I don’t want to let you go. If you want to stop right now, I’ll understand and we won’t go a step further,” he promises quietly and sincerely, his gaze burning a hole into your soul.

“Andy...”

“I didn’t think things would get this far, Y/N. I didn’t mean for things to and I didn’t want them to. You’re the smarter of the two of us, because you keep saying that we should stop, but the thought of any of those assholes other knowing you the way I do or touching you the way I do...I’m a selfish man, Y/N. You know that.”

“What do you want me to say?” you practically beg as your desire for every part of him grows.

His heart, his mind, his soul, his body...all of him.

“I want you to tell me the truth.”

“I don’t want you to quit me and I don’t want to quit you,” you confess mindlessly, too lost in his words and your feelings to guard your heart.

He forces you to face forward before pressing his card against the door, “then lets get lost in each other tonight. Tomorrow can worry about itself,” he promises before opening the door and leading you inside the suite.

You can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips.

“Baby-”

“It’s your real first time and our first time together. I wanted it to be special,” he chuckles softly before kissing the shell of your ear.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” you marvel as you look around the room.

They’re black and deep red rose petals scattered around the room, champagne and your favorite wine, small candles lighting up the room, and one of your favorite songs is playing on the little speaker set up in the corner for you.

“Andy...this must have cost-”

“Don’t worry about the cost. Besides, the hotel owner owes me a few favors.”

“How many people owe you favors, Andy?”

“Do you like the things I get you? The things I do for you?”

“Yes but-”

“Then don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” you whispers into your ear as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him. “Are you sure you want this?”

“No,” you chuckle softly, “but not being with you...not being with you completely...I don’t like it, Andy. I know that we’re not together, but I want as much of you as I can have. I know this is a bad idea, but I just...you make me happy. When you’re not being an asshole,” you laugh softly as he chuckles. “You make me so happy and I just wanna live in that happiness for a bit. None of this is ideal, or how I pictured it in my head a million times, but I’m with you. I’m with you and that’s all that matters.”

Andy starts to trail kisses down your neck to your shoulder and you’re embarrassed by how excited you are by the simple gesture. It’s not something he hasn’t done before, but everything feels different. You two have been more vulnerable and honest with each other in this moment than you have been the entire time you’ve been seeing each other.

“Andy...does this mean as much to you as it does to me?” You question desperately as you lull your head back onto his shoulder.

“Maybe more,” he husks as he unzips your skirt. “The way I feel for you...it terrifies me, Sweetheart,” he confesses as he slides his hand down your panties. “But I just can’t fucking quit you, because you’re so fucking perfect. Perfect for me,” he groans, starting to rub your clit.

“Andy,” you moan, your back arching a bit at the pleasure he’s making you feel.

“I want tonight to be perfect for you, because you’re always so fucking perfect for me. I just wanna make you happy, baby.”

He turns you around and kisses you deeply, as you get to work on getting the button and zipper on his pants open before forcing his pants down. He slowly walks you both over to the bed, never breaking the kiss, as his hands slide underneath your shirt and unhook your bra.

“Andy,” you moan as he trails kisses down to your shoulder again, “I need you, please.”

“Soon baby, I promise,” he moans, getting on his knees as you lift up your shirt. “Just wanna taste you a little bit more. The fucking sounds you make...fuck,” he groans, pulling your panties down. “I’m gonna make you feel so good tonight, baby.”

Andy’s tongue is on your clit before you have a chance to respond, and it makes you mindlessly numb. You use one hand to grip the bed as the other grips his hair. You can’t stop yourself from pulling him impossibly closer as you start to grind yourself against him, needing more of him as you always do.

“You’re so fucking good to me, baby, so fucking good,” you whimper as you feel yourself coming undone.

Andy slides two fingers into your aching cunt, and without even moving within you, it’s more than enough to send you over the edge. You can’t tell if it’s because you’ve been dreaming of having him to yourself just like this for the past month, or if it’s because you’re so excited to finally have him away from everyone and truly all to yourself. Your need for him is stronger than ever.

“Fuck, you’re so needy tonight, baby,” he huffs once he finishes cleaning you up.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you fucking dare apologize, I fucking love it,” he smiles devilishly. “Get on the bed for me, Sweetheart,” he instructs, “get on the bed and take your shirt off,” he demands softly before removing his own.

As you settle into the center of the bed, the reality of what’s about to happen hits you hard. You’re very aware of how naked you are as Andy kisses up your body. Your brain is telling you to call it off and to run for the door.

“Hey, be here with me,” he coos softly as he cups your face in his hands. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to, so bad, I just...is this a bad idea?”

“Probably,” he chuckles humorlessly, “but I don’t care. I’m self destructive anyway. I just wanna be with you, Y/N. I don’t know what’s gonna happen tomorrow and I don’t wanna think about it. All I know is that, right now, I have you to myself. There’s no pretending, no lying, you’re not working, and I’m not trying to forget about shit that still hurts. It’s just us, Sweetheart. If you don’t want to do this, I’m perfectly fine with that. I’m happy to just be here with you and hold you. I’m just happy just to have you to myself for a little while,” he states sincerely, his loving gaze cast on you.

You cup his face and pull him close before kissing him deeply. “Show me how happy you are to be with me, then,” you tell him softly once you two break away.

Andy dips down and kisses you again while slowly pushing himself inside of you. You hiss a little as you try to get used to his size. Yeah, he’s fucked you with toys that are almost his size, but none of them are exact.

Or real.

“Jesus,” he husks as he bottoms out, “you feel better than I ever imagined,” he moans as he starts to move within you slowly.

“Andy,” you moan softly as you start to move your hips with his, gipping him tight. “God, yes!”

“Shit, just like that baby. You’re so fucking good for me,” he praises as he starts to pick up his pace. Using one hand, he pushes himself up a little and gazes down at you, never breaking his stroke. “You’re so fucking beautiful, did you know that?”

“Baby please,” you whine, unable to handle the heat of his gaze and your excitement starting to build as you pull him close to you, needing to feel as much of him as possible. “I need to feel you!”

“I’ve thought about having you just like this for so long,” he grunts, his hand sliding between the both of you. “All mine, below me, and desperate,” he grunts he starts playing with your most sensitive bud. “Desperate for only me.”

“Fuck!”

“And I’m gonna give you everything you want,” he promises hotly against your ear before biting the shell of it.

“Andy...you’re so fucking good to me! Please, I’m so fucking close!”

As his pace quickens, he starts to bite and suck on the part of your neck that drives you insane, and you’re more than sure he plans on leaving a mark.

“Fuck!” you cry out, your nails digging into his back as you cum hard.

“There’s my good girl,” he smirks down at you before flipping you both so you’re on top. “I wanna watch you get yourself off on my cock.”

“Andy I-”

“I’ll guide you, baby. Don’t worry,” he encourages as he places his hands on your hips and gently starts to guide you. You bite your bottom lip, suppressing a moan as you place your hands on his chest and slowly start to grind your hips against his. “Fuck, just like that, Sweetheart,” he groans.

His gaze on you is intense and you feel like, just for a moment, you two are the only two in the world. You belong to one another, even if it’s only for a little while.

“Shit, you stretch me so fucking good, Andy!” you whimper as you start to pick up your pace.

“Yeah baby? You like the way I fuck this tight little pussy?”

“I fucking love the way you fuck me! I love the way you pull me apart for your own pleasure!”

“Jesus, Y/N! Keep it up and I’m gonna cum!” he warns with a deep growl as his hands travel your up your body, stopping at your breasts, starting to massage them.

“Fuck, that’s what I want, baby! Cum deep inside this pussy! I wanna feel you! Need it!”

“Shit!” he growls, kneading your nipples between his fingers. “The way this fucking cunt is squeezing me...shit!”

“Please baby!”

“Fuck!”

As his seed spills into you, his name leaves your lips like a silent prayer as you get lost in your euphoric pleasure. It’s not the first time Andy’s given you an orgasm, but it’s never been like this. Your whole body feels as if it’s been blown apart and put back together in the most pleasurable way. The fact that you don’t want the feeling to leave you has you terrified, because you’re now aware just how much you truly care for Andy.

“We’re...we’re done, right? This is all you wanted from me?” you question, the words breaking your own heart as you look down and meet his gaze.

You seen the pain in his eyes for a split second before he masks it and a sly smirk comes to his face. “Oh Sweetheart, we’re just getting started.”

Andy fucks you in every part of the hotel room he can, only stopping when you tell him that you need to get home. He’s reluctant to let you go, but he quietly watches you get dressed as he drinks a glass of wine while laying in bed.

You go to leave before turning to face him. Against your better judgment, you walk over to him and kiss him deeply. When you takes your face in his hands he runs his fingers through your hair. For a split moment, you contemplate staying.

But you know that’ll make everything that much more worse and complicated.

“Thank you for tonight. Everything was perfect,” you breathe against his lips as you two break apart.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“I know baby, but we both know I have to. For multiple reasons.”

“We can meet here on Tuesday.”

“Andy-”

“It’s not like you want anyone knowing that you’re not a virgin anymore, and I don’t want to share you with those other assholes.”

“I share you with half the club.”

“Y/N-”

“See, this is why I need to go. Tonight was perfect and lets just leave it at that.”

“Don’t leave mad.”

“I’m not mad, Andy. I’m just back in touch with reality. I’ve gotta go, babe,” you sigh before kissing his lips and walking away.

The entire drive back to your house, you’re at war with yourself over the choice you made. Andy isn’t yours and you’re more than sure that he’ll never be. However, you can’t find yourself regretting the choice you’ve made because you were with Andy, and despite everything, there’s no one else you trust more.

“You seem to be coming home later these days,” your mother coughs as walk into the living area.

“Work is something else, what can I say?” you sigh, sitting down beside her bed.

“That or you finally met someone,” she smiles softly.

“I met someone I can never be with, so please don’t get excited,” you scoff.

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“My brain may not work as well as it used to, but it’s still got some juice.”

“Don’t worry about it, mom. I’ll get over it.”

“Listen, you and I both know I don’t have much time left-”

“Mom-”

“Just listen to me, babygirl. We both know I don’t have much time left and I just don’t want you to be alone. Mary came by today and told me you two had a falling out that was her fault. You won’t talk to your sister or father and now you’re falling for a guy. I just want you to be okay when I’m gone. I know you’re strong and can make it on your own, but that doesn’t mean you have to be,” she says softly.

“Lets just watch the movie, Ma,” you smile as a single tear escapes from your eye. “This is the best part.”

As you both slowly fall asleep, your brain is at war with your heart. Andy means more to you than you ever wanted him to, and you find little solace in the fact that he feels the same. He can get rid of you at any time and then what? Why did you let it get this far?

As these thoughts and more run through your head, you fall asleep hoping that there may be a silver lining for you somewhere...and that it’ll show itself soon.

Andy’s P.OV.

“Who is she?!” Laurie yells for what feels like the hundredth time, as she follows me into the bedroom.

“She’s someone who is none of your concern. Why were you going through my phone?”

“It kept going off!”

“That doesn’t explain why you went through it, Laurie.”

“I went to answer it and when I grabbed it, it stopping ringing. I saw the name ‘Angel’ in your texts and I got curious-”

“So decided to make yourself upset and go through my shit and now you’re mad at me? Mad at me for doing the same thing you’re doing?”

“Is she where all of the money is going?”

“Lower your voice, Jacob is home,” I warn as I take off my tie. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Laurie. This is the set up you wanted and in 2 months, we won’t even be married. So drop it.”

“No! I’ve been trying for months to try and fix the mess I made-”

“Exactly! The mess you made! What did I do when I found in bed with James? I fucking tried to make it work! I loved you! I loved you and I took responsibility for everything that happened, and you didn’t want me! You didn’t want our life anymore! Now, you’re getting what you want and you’re still not happy!”

“I thought this is what I wanted! I fucked up, Andy and I’m sorry!”

“You know what makes this all that much worse? This woman that you find yourself hating, for absolutely no reason, is fucking amazing! She’s amazing and I want to love her and commit, but I fucking can’t because of you!”

“Doesn’t that mean there’s still a chance for us?”

“You’re not understanding me!” I snap, no longer giving a damn that Jacob can hear us and finally hear about whats been going on for the last few years. “It’s not because I still love you, it’s because you fucking ruined me! Jesus, do you think of anyone but yourself? Honestly, do you even care that you fucking crushed my heart?”

“Andy, if you could just-”

“I need to go for a drive,” I huff, pulling out of her hold.

“Please just stay and talk to me.”

“I can’t Laurie. Not right now. I just fucking can’t,” I sigh before slamming the door shut and walking out.

“Is everything alright?” Jacob asks as soon as I reach the landing.

“No, no they aren’t. In fact, they’re far from all right.”

“Dad, what’s-”

“We’ll talk about it when I get back,” I mutter as I hear Laurie starting to cry.

“Dad...is this my fault? Did I-”

“You did nothing wrong,” I smile sincerely before pulling him in for a tight hug, “things just change. People change.”

“Are you coming home early tonight?”

“I’ll back in a couple hours, bud. We can watch a movie or play chess. I still have to kick your ass from the last time,” I chuckle softly and Jacob laughs too. “No matter what, everything’s gonna be fine, okay? I don’t want you worrying about us when you’re so close to finally getting out of this hell hole.”

“Dad are you-”

“Everything’s fine. Don’t worry,” I promise as I clear my throat, taking a look at the grown man that once used to beg Laurie and I to stay up with him for 5 more minutes to watch cartoons.

Things really do change.

“I’ll be back in a little, bud,” I smile before patting his shoulder and walking out.

The minute I get in my car I pull out my phone and text you because, if I’m being honest with myself, you’re the reason for my outburst. It’s been two weeks since we fucked and you refuse to meet at the hotel. It’s not like I can say you’re in the wrong, because we did fuck up.

I fucked up.

I knew better than to give in to what I want, but everything about is all consuming. It’s not even just the sex. For a moment in time, we can pretend. We can pretend and it’s just us. You make every part of me come to life, and if I could, I’d spend every moment of ever day with you.

It’s never lost on me that I wouldn’t have even met you if you didn’t want to take care of your mother. Who the fuck does that? Who the hell is that selfless?

Andy: Is there any way that I can see you tonight?

Angel: Andy, it’s Saturday. You know I can’t.

Andy: Well when?

Angel: You see me Tuesday-Friday.

Andy: Is there no way you can see me tonight? Even for just five minutes?

Angel: Baby, what’s wrong?

Andy: What isn’t wrong.

Angel: Andy.

Andy: Laurie went through my phone.

Angel: Fuck.

Andy: Yeah, she’s pretty pissed and it led to a big argument. I said some things...I said them out of anger I shouldn’t have. I just need to see you.

Angel: Things aren’t going well today. I can give you 10 minutes at most.

Andy: That’s more than enough time.

Angel: Meet me by the water front?

Andy: I’ll see you there

Here I go again, asking too much of you, and here you are not making a fuss. Why can’t I just let go? Why can’t I just give myself to you, the way you deserve? It’s not like I don’t think about it every second of every day. I can barely even fuck the other girls, because I know it hurts you, even without you saying anything.

It’s not fair of me to ask you to only be with me while I fuck away my feelings, but I just can’t bear the thought of you being with someone else. I see it every time you look at me. The things you want to say but won’t, the longing, the hate, the passion, the begging, the desire, the pain...I see all of it.

I see all of it because I feel all of the same things. I feel it all and it makes me feel like shit.

So what do I do? I offer you all of the things you could care less about, because it’s easier to do that than give you my heart and soul. It’s easier to guard myself than to try again.

If your Mother wasn’t sick, you wouldn’t care about money. You don’t care about jewelry, you don’t care about flowers, and you don’t care about sweet nothings because it’s hard for you to believe what anyone says.

However, all of it is coming from me. The sweet words, the flowers, the jewelry...if it wasn’t from me, it wouldn’t matter at all to you. You tell me all the time about how I have nothing to worry about because none of the guys who try to buy attention have anything to offer, but I know it’s different with me. It’s not-

“What happened?” you ask as you tap on the driver’s window.

It takes me a split second before opening the door, pulling you in and onto my lap, and closing it again. “Why can’t we just live together?”

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“She knows and I can’t just make her leave, no much how I want her to.”

“I thought you were going to give her the house.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I sigh, resting my head in your shoulder as you adjust yourself on my lap. “Why can’t we just stay this way forever?” I sigh before kissing your neck. “Lets just leave right now-”

“Please don’t, Andy,” you moan, your grip on my thigh tightening a little.

God, I love the things you do to me.

“Lets meet at the hotel on Tuesday,” I press, kissing down your neck as my hand travels between your leg. “I need you.”

“Andy-”

“Sweetheart...I know. I know and I’m sorry, but I need you. Every part of you and I need you to myself.”

“Will it make you happy?” you ask innocently as your hand caresses my arm.

Why do I have to be such an asshole? “Anytime I get to spend with you makes me happy, Sweetheart. You know this.”

“I know, but will it make you feel better?”

“Only if you want to.”

“You know it’s not a matter of me not wanting to,” you sigh and the heaviness in your tone matches the heaviness in my heart. “It’s because we are what we are.”

“Yeah, that’s my fault too. Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” I grumble into your shoulder.

I really wish I could tell you just how much I care for you. Care about you. I want to make you the center of my universe and take care of you until my last breath leaves my body.

I wanna tell you that I love you and that I always will.

But I can’t.

“Don’t apologize because it’s not like I’m any better. I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m still desperate to make you happy. I’m just as dumb as you are. I have to go though, baby.”

“It’s been 10 minutes already?”

“It’s been 15,” you scoff. “I’ll meet you at the hotel on Tuesday, okay?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah baby, I gotta go,” you sigh before kissing me.

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I pull you closer and deepen it, not ready to let you go yet.

It’s never been lost on me just how truly selfish I am.

For just a moment, you let me explore you as we both get lost it each other. Just like we always do. Once I start tugging at the hem of your shorts, you force yourself to break away, and it’s just as painful as when you leave me.

“Tuesday baby, I gotta go,” you breathe, your grip on me still tight as you try and calm down.

“Please wear these shorts.”

“I promise I will,” you chuckle softly before kissing my cheek one final time and opening the car door and getting out.

As I watch you start your car and drive away, i can’t help but try and think of the last time I was ever this excited to see someone and make plans to see them again, but not a single time comes to mind.

What are you doing to me?

“Fuck! Andy! Just like that, please don’t stop!” you moan as Andy fucks you senseless from behind.

The moment you walked through the door, Andy was all over you. It caught you off guard, because you’re never sure of his feelings for you. Sure, you believe he cares about you to an extent, but it’s still an arrangement. He pays you, he fucks you, then goes home to his wife. It would be easier to believe some of the things he says if things felt like they were changing even a little. You wanna let yourself fall for him, but he’s just too much of a risk.

Yet, here you are on your hands and knees for the man you can’t get out of your head, or heart.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, baby! You take me so well,” he grunts, his grip on your hips getting tighter. “I missed you so much, baby! Missed the way you explode for me, the sounds you make, this tight little cunt...I missed everything about you!”

��Jesus, that’s it!” you cry out as he finds the spot deep within you that makes you come undone for him. “I missed you too, Andy! So much!” you confess, the pleasure once again becoming mind numbing and you forget to keep your guard up. “Thought about nothing but being with you tonight since the last time I saw you!”

“Yeah? You love seeing me, Angel?” he taunts as one of his hands travels down between your legs and starts to teasingly rub your swollen clit.

“Ye-yes, Andy! Fuck! I’m so fucking close, baby! Please...shit!”

“I love the way you come apart for me,” he husks as his movements start to become erratic and you know he’s close. “Fuck, I love you, Y/N!” he accidentally confesses as he spills his seed into you.

You don’t even have time to think on it, because his release sets off your own, while mindlessly clawing at the bed, trying to keep yourself upright. That’s the third earth shattering orgasm hes given you, and you’re not about to complain about it.

You want nothing more than to focus on all the pleasure you’re feeling, but you can’t because he said it.

He said it and you’re not sure what to think at all.

“Sweetheart,” Andy grunts as he pulls out of you and pulls you out of your thoughts “say something.”

“W-why...why did you say that?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking-”

“Andy, why would you say that? What is wrong with you?”

“Baby, if you just let me-”

“Is this a game to you? Why would you say something you don’t mean? You can’t mean?

“Y/N, please just listen to me. I just-” he starts but is interrupted by your phone ringing for the millionth time.

“Fuck,” you sigh, crawling over to the nightstand and grabbing it. “Hello?”

“I need you to come home,” Gloria, your mother’s nurse, states frantically.

“What happened? Is she okay?” you ask, slowly starting to panic yourself as you start to get dressed.

“She just keeps crying and screaming for you to come home. I can’t calm her down.”

“I’ll be there in 20,” you promise before hanging up.

“What’s wrong? How can I help?”

“I just need to get home, now. I can’t...I have to go,” you sob as you finish getting dressed.

“Sweetheart, please just-”

“You can’t call me that anymore, Andy. I can’t talk about this right now...there’s just too much...I gotta go,” you explain before practically running out.

The entire time you’re driving home, you try to put everything that happened with Andy out of your mind, because you can’t deal with that and with whatever is going on with your mother at the same time. By the time you get home, you’re mother is in full on hysterics and it takes both you and Gloria the rest of the night to calm her down. By the time you two calm her down and get her to sleep, you can tell her energy is all but gone from the episode.

“I think you should spend the next few days home, Honey,” Gloria states solemnly as you two stand in the doorway.

“Yeah...I think so too,” you sob softly.

“She just wants your company. We all know it won’t be long now and I think she’s just scared. She’s scared to leave you.”

“I’m scared for her to leave me,” you cry softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Gloria whispers as she wraps you in a tight hug “just make the best of the next few days.”

So, you do just that. You ask your sister and father to come over (at your Mother’s request), but stay in your room the entire time they’re there. You called Samantha and let her know that you’re taking the next few weeks off, and all she does is offer apologies about everything. Lindsey and Allison come by later in the week to spend time with you and your Mother, and you can’t remember the last time you saw her smile and laugh so much.

Andy keeps texting you and can’t find the energy or courage to respond. It’s been three days since the ‘I love you’ incident, and while you feel bad about ignoring him, you’re heart just can’t handle having that talk at the moment.

You can’t handle him telling you that it was an accident and he didn’t mean it.

However, you don’t find yourself all that surprised when he shows up at your doorstep on Saturday.

“How did you even find my house?” you ask softly, stepping outside and leaving the door cracked.

“Samantha,” he says simply and you know he isn’t proud of himself.

“Andy, I can’t do this right now. You can’t be here.”

“I know you have a lot going on, but the way you left that night...I never wanted to hurt or make you upset. You deserve-”

“Andy, I really can’t handle this right now. I need some time and I’ll text you in a few-”

“Sweet Pea, who’s at the door?” your Mother calls weakly from the living area.

“It’s no one, Ma.”

“If it were no one you wouldn’t be out there so long,” she teases with a small laugh. “Let them in, maybe they can help us solve the mystery to the end of ‘Grease.”

“He really can’t-”

“He? Oh, now you’ve gotta let him in!”

“Fucking great,” you mutter stepping aside. “c’mon in.”

“I don’t want to make things worse.”

“Yeah, it’s a little too late for that,” you smile sarcastically.

You don’t miss the gasp that escapes your Mother’s lips when Andy walks in, charming smile on his face. “Andy Barber, I didn’t know you knew my daughter!” she beams and you can’t help but chuckle.

Even on her deathbed, your Mother is still the most adorable proud Mother in the world.

“I met her in the grocery store one night, I shop when I can’t sleep, and we just hit it off. She’s been a really good friend to me ever since,” he smiles sincerely at your Mother and it’s hard for you not to smile at her genuine happiness.

If only you could tell her the truth.

“Well, Mr. Barber, if you-”

“Please call me Andy.”

“Andy, if you have time, I’d really like for you to join us. Besides, I’m sure Y/N could use more other company than me.”

“Ma,” you groan as Andy laughs softly.

“I’d love to spend some time with the both of you,” he smiles sheepishly at the both of you.

You hate the little flutter that happens in your heart.

“Are you sure no one will mind me trapping you here with us?” your Mother questions, and you chuckle as you shake your head, knowing what she’s getting at.

“Nah, Jacob is off with his girlfriend then staying over a friend’s house,” he scoffs.

“And your wife?” she questions, eyeing the gold band on his ring finger.

“That’s uh,” he answers awkwardly, shifting his weight to his other foot “that’s over with. This is just for show until the end of next month,” he finishes softly, before looking at you with all sincerity.

“Then, by all means, make yourself comfortable,” your Mother grins looking from you to him.

“Does anyone want anything to drink?” you question, raising an eyebrow as you kick your slippers off.

“Can I have more ice chips?” your Mother questions with a slight cough.

“You can have the moon, as well as an answer to your life’s greatest mystery,” you smile at her, gaining a small laugh. “Andy?”

“Water?”

“You seem like a bourbon guy,” your Mother states, waiving off his request for a water. “We still have bourbon, right?”

“That we do,” you laugh.

“Get him a bourbon, me some ice chips, and you some wine.”

“Ma, I don’t need-”

“Trust me, I know you don’t need it, but I know you want it. You don’t have to drink water and juice all day because I can’t have it.”

“You sure?”

“I have a feeling that one of us is gonna need to be buzzed in order to solve this case,” she smirks at you as you giggle.

“Three drinks comin’ right up,” you nod before escaping into the kitchen to make them.

You can’t remember the last time you worked so fast to get two simple drinks together, and a cup of fucking ice, but you don’t want either of them alone together for too long cause who knows what they’ll say to one another. You’re all set to bring the drinks in when your phone goes off.

“Hello?” you answer without even checking to see who it is.

“Hey Baby Doll,” your Father says softly and you can feel your heart rate speed up. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“No, not really. What do you want?”

“I uh...I um...I wanna see you for lunch next week, Kiddo,” he beams excitedly. “I know you don’t wanna have anything to do with me, which is more than understandable, but I was hoping-”

“I really can’t have this talk right now. Mom and I have company over, so I gotta go,” you say abruptly before ending the call.

You take a deep breath and take step back, doing your best to mask all signs of irritation and frustration, before clearing your throat and starting back on your short trek to the living area, only to find them laughing about something that clearly has nothing to do with the movie.

What’s so damn funny?

“Hey, that took longer than I expected,” your smiles at you with a small cough “everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just got an unexpected call,” you shrug, passing the two of them their requested drinks. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” she muses.

“Me?”

“You really used to think that carat and carrot were the same thing?” Andy laughs in pure disbelief.

“I was 6! How was I supposed to know?!” you defend, laughing yourself as you take a seat on the sofa.

“She would come in and hold up a bag of carrots and say ‘Mommy, you never have to work again! We can turn these into rings and be rich!’ , and I never had the heart to tell her,” your Mother laughs.

“Sweetheart, how did you think you’d turn the carrots into diamond rings?” Andy chuckles, trying to calm his laughing.

“She was the adult, so I figured she’d know what to do!”

“And when she wasn’t able to make them into diamond rings”

“I just thought I got bad carrots,” you shrug with a giggle as Andy laughs harder.

“Oh Baby...no,” he sighs, catching his breath finally.

“I don’t see how this helps us solve our ‘Grease’ issue,” you mumble as a smile plays on your lips.

When you press play, your Mother and Andy quickly fall into conversation, and you let yourself almost forget who Andy really is to you at the end of the day. It’s almost easy to forget what the arrangement you two have is. It only feels so right because, in the back of your mind, it is.

If this had been any other life, or any other time, maybe you and Andy would have a fighting chance. You’d be able to introduce him as your complicated boyfriend, and your Mother would have more time to adjust to the idea. You would have more time to adjust to the idea. However, the situation is what it is, and can only enjoy what’s left of it.

No matter how much it breaks your heart.

“I genuinely think the car us able to fly away because the woman says that ‘if the car were any better condition, it would fly’. Since Danny and Sandra decided that they’re meant to be, the car has everything it needs. Oil, a good muffler, a great engine, quality breaks, and true love. True love is what put it in the best condition,” Andy shrugs before finishing off his 4th drink.

“Ya know what? That’s not a bad way to think about it. Sweet Pea, we have an answer! I can die happy,” your Mother chuckles as you roll your eyes.

“Simmer down you,” you warn, giving her a smirk. “What do you wanna watch next?”

“Oh, what’s that movie you used to love as a kid? That Disney movie.”

“Mommy....no.”

“Oh, what was it? You used to make me watch it with you every weekend! You broke the damn tape!”

“Mom!” you beg as you hear Andy start to chuckle. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’ve got nothin’ but time today, Sweetheart,” he smirks at you.

“The Little Mermaid!”

“Mom...please don’t do this to me,” you whine as Andy bursts out laughing. “I’ll do anything, just please...no!”

“I haven’t seen it in so long! Lets watch it!”

“Yes, I think we should,” Andy agreed once he caught his breath.

“Oh no you don’t,” you quickly correct, turning to face him. “If you’re gonna stay here and watch the little bit dignity I have left quickly fall away, you’re getting us food.”

“I’ll happily get you food if it means I get to watch you sing Disney songs.”

“I will not be singing along!”

“Oh yes you will,” your Mother giggles.

“The two of you together is no good,” you snip at her sarcastically and she laughs.

“You want the usual?” Andy asks, taking out his phone.

“Yes please. Oh! Ask them for chopsticks please!” you beg as Andy smirks and shakes his head.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Eh, I’m not supposed to, but I’ll have an egg roll,” your Mother shrugs as you cut her a look. “What? I’m gonna die either way. I may as well eat what I want.”

“You’re very annoying, did you know that?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t ever wanna be any other way,” she teases.

“I’ll go and place the order,” Andy smiles before exiting the room.

“Your usual, huh?” your Mother smirks knowingly.

“Don’t start.”

“Hes been calling you ‘sweetheart’ and ‘baby’ since he got here.”

“That’s just how Andy talks.”

“He hasn’t called me either of those.”

“Yeah well, that’s your old.”

“I’m not that old!”

“You’re the oldest person in here,” you tease as she lets out a hearty laugh. “We’re just friends, Ma. No more and no less.”

“A mother knows, ya know.”

“There can never be anything. He’s in his own shit and I’m not strong enough to deal with it.”

“I don’t know anything about him except what comes on the TV, so I’m not gonna make a judgment, but I do see how he looks at you. How you look at him. There’s definitely something there and maybe, with time, it could be something more.”

“If only,” you smile softly, holding back your tears.

“Alright, the food has been ordered, please play ‘The Little Mermaid’,” Andy beams as he quickly makes his way back inside.

You do nothing but shake your head and look for the movie on the streaming service you always use, while your Mother starts laughing.

As she predicted, you’re singing along as soon as the first song starts playing. You hear your Mother and Andy laughing softly, but you don’t care. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe and happy, and you feel extremely happy that you get to experience the feeling with both your Mother and Andy.

You want to live in the moment forever.

You’re barely 15 minutes into the movie before there’s a knock on the door.

“That was quick,” you say, checking your phone for the time. “I’ll get it!” you volunteer before getting up and sprinting to the door. “I think that’s the fastest we’ve ever...oh,” you say flatly when you see the person on the side of the door is Mary. “Whatever you have to say, I can’t hear right now.”

“Y/N, please, if you would just hear me out-”

“There’s literally nothing to hear. There’s nothing you can say.”

“There’s so much to say! Just give me five minutes, please!”

“No! I have nothing to say to you and I don’t want to hear anything you have to say!”

“Y/N, we’ve gotten through so many other-”

“Not like this, Mary. I don’t care how drunk you were, you fucking knew what something like that would to me. How much it would hurt me and you still decided to hurt me. I didn’t deserve that, especially from you,” you spit, your eyes watering. “Whatever you have to say, I’m not ready to hear it and I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to. You don’t get to force your friendship on me because you’re lonely.”

“I’m not...I just want-”

“Hey babe, is everything...oh,” Andy stops short seeing Mary at your doorstep.

“So you two are-”

“We’re just-”

“Whatever we are or aren’t isn’t any concern of yours,” Andy interrupts harshly. “You need to leave.”

“You can’t tell me-”

“I can and I just did. She doesn’t need this right now and you’ve done enough.”

Mary looks from him to you before shaking her head and practically running off.

“Are you okay?” Andy sighs as you close the door.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Sweetheart-”

“She’s having a really good day, Andy. That’s all I can focus on right now,” you state softly, looking up at him.

Andy dips down and kisses you softly as he wraps his arms around you. “I’ll answer the door next time, okay?” All you do is nod before laying your head on his chest. “Lets get back in there.”

“Just a few more minutes.”

“That’s fine too.”

You don’t care that you’re upset with Andy or completely confused by his words and actions. In this moment, it just matters that he’s here and he’s comforting you. Out of all the ways that he could’ve chosen to spend his day, he’s choosing to spend it with you and your Mother. He’s choosing to stay and make both your Mother and you happy, instead of going out and doing whatever he wants.

Andy chooses you.

You both stay there for a few more minutes before going back into the living area. You assure your Mother that every thing is fine before pressing ‘play’ on the remote, resuming the scene where she starts singing ‘Part Of Your World’. When the food finally does arrive, Andy is true to his word and answers the door.

As the night goes on, your Mother drifts in and out of sleep as the final movie of the night (Alice in Wonderland) starts playing.

“Are you okay, Mom? Do you need anything?” you ask, noticing her nod off for the 10th time.

“I’m fine, Sweet Pea. Just tired,” she smiles at you weakly. “Wanna do pancakes in the morning?”

“Mmm, I think tomorrow is gonna be more of a waffle day.”

“Pancakes are better and I’m tired of you pretending they aren’t.”

“One day you’ll know peace and I’ll be proud of you.”

“You’re such a little shit,” she laughs. “Give me a kiss goodnight.”

“So damn needy,” you tease before getting up and giving her a kiss on the cheek and the tightest hug you can muster without hurting her.

“I could stay in your hugs forever,” she murmurs, and you hear the strain in her voice.

“I think you should.”

“Don’t start that. I love you.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

“Sleep tight and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“I’ll do my best.”

You give her one more kiss and she kisses your cheek softly before letting go of you. You make your way back into your favorite spot on the sofa. You cuddle up close to Andy as he presses play on the remote and resumes the movie. You wait until you hear her soft snores before you settle in closer next to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly as he wraps his arms around you.

“Andy, now isn’t-”

“We don’t have to talk about it, I just want you to know...I am sorry. I didn’t mean or want to make you upset, and I never meant to make your life more complicated. I just...I’m sorry.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask softly, terrified of hearing him say ‘no’.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, making no attempt to hide the pain in his voice. “I want to. I truly want to, because at this point, I’m convinced you’re the only one for me, but...I’m still damaged goods, Y/N. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with you, but I know I’m happy. I’m so damn happy when I’m with you, and it just...I went too far and I know that. I’m sorry,” he sighs, pulling you closer and placing a soft kiss into your hair.

You’re thoughtful before you speak. “Don’t say it again. Don’t say it unless you mean it, because I can’t handle something else breaking my heart. I can’t handle you breaking my heart.”

“Do you love me?”

“That’s not fair and you know it. I didn’t say it, you did.”

“I know, but we both need to know how deep we’re both in this. That’s only fair.”

“Some days I think I do and other days...”

“Other days...?”

“I really fucking hate you, Andy. I hate you for complicating things, I hate you for choosing me. I hate you because my friendship with Mary is destroyed, I hate you for still being married, even if it is only temporary...I fucking hate you the most for making me care so much. When we started this, it was so simple, but we both wanted more and neither of us were smart enough to walk away.”

“You were.”

“I was smart enough to suggest it, but I never actually did. That’s why you’re here now. We’re here now.”

“I won’t say it again, Sweetheart. I won’t say it unless I’m ready to commit. I promise,” he says sweetly before checking his watch. “I need to get going.”

“Stay...unless you have something you need to do or someone you need to see.”

“I’m as free as a bird, Baby.”

“Then stay. She likes you, a lot, so stay. She’ll be happy to see you in the morning.”

“Anything to see you both happy,” he encourages before placing another kiss into your hair.

You both lay down and he pulls close, taking in your scent and warmth, while you just take in the comfort of him being there. Him holding you, kissing you every few seconds, and cuddling you close are some of your favorite things.

It’s heaven.

In no time at all, you both are drifting off to sleep to the infamous ‘A Very Merry Unbirthday’ scene.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep before Andy gently wakes you. The tone in his voice has your heart breaking instantly.

“Baby...she’s-”

“Don’t. Don’t fucking say it, please,” you sob, unable to look at your Mother in her hospice bed. “She’s not, Andy. She’s just sleeping hard.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he says solemnly wrapping you in a hug.

“You can’t be sure-”

“I checked, baby. She’s gone.”

You’re unable to do anything except cry, so Andy takes it upon himself to call everyone who needs to be called. When they come to take your Mother away, you’re even worse off.

“It’s gonna be okay, Sweetheart. I’m here,” Andy coos gently as strokes your back.

As the days go by, they all seem to blur. You pay attention to nothing and you care about almost nothing. For the most part, you’re just numb, going through the motions. Andy is with you for as much as he can be, and when he can’t, he won’t leave your side until Allison or Lindsey show up. You hear the arguments with Laurie and you truly feel bad because you know you’re the reason for them. However, you can’t bring yourself to tell him he doesn’t need to stay. You won’t bring yourself to that point.

When it’s late, and you allow yourself to be honest with only yourself, you know that Andy is the only reason you haven’t gone completely off the rails. It’s not lost on you that you really do love the man, but it’s also not lost on you that life is a bitch.

By the time the funeral comes, you’re not even sure what day it is.

“You gotta get up, Sweetheart,” Andy tells you as he leans against the door frame to your room.

“What time is it?”

“7am.”

“I can stay in bed a little longer,” you mumble, turning over as he sighs.

“Baby, after this-”

“After this, I have to deal with her not being in my life anymore.”

“She’s always here, just not physically. As long as you keep her in your heart and mind, she’s always with you,” he tells you softly as he lays down next to you.

“I don’t want to go, Andy.”

“I know you don’t, Baby, but you know it would make her happy.”

“I just want her back. I tried so hard and worked so hard...” you trail off as you start to sob,

“I know, Sweetheart. I know. We just gotta get through today and we’ll figure the rest out.”

“You have to get home.”

“I’m here for as long as you need me.”

“I hear the arguments, Andy. I know she’s furious and I know-”

“She’s furious because she’s coming to terms with the reality that she’s set. That has nothing to do with me and she’ll figure it out on her own.”

“Andy-”

“With the exception of Jacob’s graduation, I’m here for as much and as often as you want me.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m putting this place on the market.”

“And where are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know. A fucking box on the corner.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m gonna let you be homeless.”

“I just don’t care. I don’t care about anything.”

“Let me take care of you, Sweetheart. It’ll be your place, your name will be on the papers and everything. I’ll just pay for it until you’re on your feet and we’ll go from there.”

“Andy-”

“It’ll be your place, Sweetheart. I just wanna help. I care about you and don’t want to see you struggle, especially after all you’ve been through. So, what do you say?”

In this moment, you’re truly faced with a decision you’re not ready for. Do you follow your heart and trust Andy, or do you keep your guard up and tough it out alone? When you turn over and look at him, his eyes hold all of the promises you’ve been longing for; but it only tugs at your heart because it doesn’t know if you can trust it fully and completely anymore.

Do you choose love or sensibility?

Taglist: @fuckingbye, @maroonsunrise83, @whxre4cevans, @sweetflowerdreams

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