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shawnxstyles · 6 months

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baby honey 2

DATE: NOVEMBER 5, 2023

summary: you and harry need to talk. so, you do. along with other things.

song: Fantasy- the driver era

words: 7.2k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [oral, choking], daddy kink, slight dumbification, mentions of voyurism/exhibitism [not clearly stated] and porn, protected sex, dirty talk!!), language, and a very blunt y/n.

note: i actually got a part two out not that long after the first part?? omg?? monumental moment here guys. enjoy! PART ONE!

secret pornstar!harry x secret pornstar!y/n

—

DaylightDaddy [verified]: What are you doing to me?

You were waiting by your computer for the longest sixteen minutes of your life. That’s how long it took Harry to watch your less-than-ten-minute video and then text you back. Your heart, which was still flat on the floor of your stomach, leaps excitedly when it sees Harry’s message on your computer screen.

That message alone verified to you that DaylightDaddy was indeed Harry. Of course Harry would bring back his infamous saying at a time like this. You wanted to ditch the conversation on this website and text Harry personally. You also wanted to go to his house and pounce on him for being ridiculously attractive and vulnerable. You were an idiot by not saying anything yesterday and he was an idiot by being so blunt and angry. You both could have ruined not only your friendship but your chances at being something more by not talking. Communication is key, yet you’re still locked.

Why?

Maybe because somewhere in the dark crack of your heart, you’re terrified that you’ll be vulnerable to a man that’s six years older than you just for him to say that he doesn’t actually like you. He just likes your breasts and the idea of sleeping with you.

But that’s not Harry, right?

Without responding to his message, you grab your phone that has been forgotten on your floor. The second you sent that video to him you chucked it across the room and hoped for the best. It seems as though it worked, but at the same time, there is still so much unsaid with Harry. So many feelings you need to work out. But first, you need to talk and figure out how you both actually feel. Is it just lust? Is it just the fact that you two work together? Or is it something more?

Y/N: harry

He texts you almost simultaneously.

Harry: Y/N

Your fingers freeze at the keyboard. Even though you were just talking to him, how do you bring up such a serious conversation. We need to talk? Or I need to talk to you? They both sound bad.

Harry: Are you working today?

You and Harry both know damn well neither of you works. Him asking this question just seems like he’s continuing to avoid you, and avoid the inevitable conversation that you guys need to have. Did your video not spark a lightbulb in his head? How can he not tell that you do feel whatever he feels? Maybe even more…

Y/N: i am not, but i think you know that

Y/N: can we talk? are you busy?

You know he’s not busy, but that doesn’t make his reaction any scarier.

Harry: I’m free

Harry: Do you want to come over

It was one of the scariest texts he’s ever sent. After what just went down between you two, inviting you over could mean anything. It’s clear there’s a strong attraction connecting you both, but there is also a lot of murky water that needs to be cleaned.

Y/N: yes

Harry: Let me pick you up

That stubbornness inside of you that Harry is all too familiar with wanted to fight him. To tell him that you are more than capable of driving yourself, even though you only have Penny’s car for one more day. But him suggesting to pick you up showed his desperation to see you. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe the forward action instead of the backing away was what you two needed.

Y/N: okay

Y/N: give me an hour!!

You needed time to think about it of course.

—

Within that hour, you were going crazy. You took a warm, hard-pressed shower in order to massage all the tension in your body and hopefully in your mind. You thought about every possible scenario about seven thousand times, hoping that you’d get it right. This time, you planned to say the right words and not stand there like a fucking statue when faced with his vulnerability. This time, you were going to be vulnerable too, because you’ve never had a chance at something more like this before. And you don’t want to ruin it just because you’re afraid. How lame is that?

While you were waiting for Harry to text you, you pace around the room. Your eyes averted to your computer that was still lying on your bed, and the only thing you could think about was your conversation with Harry. Not only had he called you attractive but he compared your beauty to everyone on the website and still said you were the most attractive. Was that just him flirting? Or was he being serious? You wondered if Harry really felt that way about you and you hoped you would find out soon.

On that thought, you never even checked if his money went through. You know the second that it does you’ll be giving it right back to him. So, while you’re still waiting, you open up your bank app on your phone. Even though you’re sitting on your bed now, your leg is still bouncing up and down, anxiety infiltrating your blood like the most insane drug.

When you finally comprehend the number that is present on your screen, your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. You blink a couple hundred times before briskly checking your most recent transactions. In neon green letters an extravagant $2000+ appears in front of you. Your hand jaggedly and slowly finds its way over your agape mouth, bewildered at Harry’s extreme act. What on earth would cause Harry to willingly send you that much money? Yes, you have complained about your financial situation, but you also clearly denied Harry of a loan. Now, you have to send his money back and it’s going to be really awkward. Another thing you have to add to your list of “Things to Talk Through with Harry”. Just as you close the app, Harry texts you that he’s at your place.

–

“Hey,” You manage to cough out as you slide nervously into his passenger seat.

“Hey,” Harry replies with a thick swallow. His grip on the steering wheel changes from intense to loose every few seconds before he starts the car.

There’s a low hum on the radio along with his air conditioning blowing cool air towards you. But other than that, no one had said a word. You peek over the dashboard a few times to see the road, wondering how far Harry lives from you and how quickly you can get out of this car. You hoped when you got to his house that this unbreathable, anxious tension would have died down, so you two can finally sort this shit out.

As a few more minutes pass by, you realize that you hate this. You hate the awkward silence that’s dawning over your friendship and making you overthink every single word. It’s never been like this with Harry, ever. You’ve never had to second-guess your late-night conversations and he never had to restrain his friendly charm. This, this tension, is unlike both of you.

You have to talk. Maybe you should mention the money?

“I know y’want to say something. Just say it, please, I can’t stand this awkwardness,” Harry blurts out as he stops at a red light. You inhale and blink, suddenly feeling a bit more alive with the sound of his voice.

“I looked at my bank,” You said, looking down at your lap. You were already being shy and you haven’t even got to the actual vulnerable stuff yet. What is wrong with you?

“Have you?”

“Yeah, and I saw the money you gave me.”

“Good.”

“Harry, you know I can’t take that,” Now, you turn your head towards his, which is safely facing the road. But you know he sees you and you know he’s stressed with your stubbornness.

“But you already did. It’s in your account, yeah?”

“Okay, but–”

“I don’t understand why you won’t take my money. Is it not good enough for you or somethin’?” Harry’s voice has become more agitated, making his last turn a bit sharper. You see him take a deep breath as he pulls into a driveway of a nice house. It was nice because the lawn was green and cut and the color of its walls were a pleasant cream color with a smooth navy blue as its border. It wasn’t the biggest house ever, but Harry was more practical than that. He didn’t need some huge, showy house in order to seem cool. Harry was already cool, whether he knew it or not.

“All money is the same, you doy.”

“You didn’t want it when I said I could loan it to you. Then I found a way to give it to you because you earned it and you still won’t take it. How does that make sense?”

“That’s different!”

“How is that different?”

“You of all people should know!”

Harry groans out of frustration and gets out of the car. “Let’s just get in the house.”

You follow suit, shutting the car door a little more roughly than you thought. Before you know it, you’re in his house and it’s just so Harry. His furniture is smooth; all browns and woods. He had pictures of his family scattered along with abstract art. By his decently sized television is a large record player next to an impressive case of vinyls. He even has a miniature bookshelf full of books that would probably bore you, but it still fascinates you.

“What, have you never seen a house before?”

“Don’t get all snappy with me. We were supposed to talk.”

“You make it difficult.”

“Why? Because I won’t take your money?”

“That doesn’t help,” he crosses his arms before dropping to sit on his couch. Again, you follow him, but keep your distance. You don’t miss the way his house smells just like him; a homey breeze of fresh air with a sprinkle of nature. It was earthly and friendly and charming. Just like him. “But it’s your stubbornness.”

To be fair, your stubbornness is one of Harry’s favorite traits about you. But it’s also the one that gets under his skin the most. He admires the way you can stand up for yourself and you know how to get exactly what you want. But he’s noticed that your need for independence interferes with your other desires.

“I can’t help it. I was born to fight,” You sighed out, lying against the couch cushions. “At least that’s what my dad always says.”

“I don’t want to fight, Honey,” The new nickname has rows of shivers cascading your skin. You feel a tingle in your stomach that you get when he says something charming or flirtatious. It’s impossible to fight the butterflies and heart pulses he gives you.

“Me either,” You take a deep breath, just like you did in the shower and just like Harry did in the car. This was your time to be vulnerable, to be first. You wanted to show Harry that you cared and that you weren’t just being stubborn to be annoying. You loved when you guys would close together, even if you consistently told him you would do it yourself. You loved the late-night talks you would have while cleaning up the bar, talking about anything and everything in order to waste time. You were endeared that Harry always walked you to your car in the early morning after the doors were locked just to make sure you were safe. You missed the way his hands felt on your arms when he caught you and the feeling of his chest pressed closely to yours. Friends don’t crave like that. No, because you weren’t friends. You were more and you both knew it. You cared about him and you appreciated his care for you. Shit, you freaking liked him and it took you both revealing your secret identities to prove it. Even if you two haven’t technically talked about it.

“H…”

“Y/N.”

“Everything you told me that night. Was it true?”

There was a weighted beat. One that was long and heavy enough to shatter the earth.

“Yes, of course it was. Why would I lie about that?”

“I don’t–” You turned to face him. “I’m not…good at this stuff. I don’t randomly hook up with people or go on dates. I especially don’t go to their house after sending them a video of me orgasming to confess my feelings to them.”

Harry blinks. He didn’t think you would mention it so vulgarly, but maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. But he would like to. He doesn’t sound like you’re accusing him of doing those things, more of just you warning him about yourself. Harry does extract the little hint of your words and uses them to interrogate you.

“Feelings. What feelings?”

“Well, currently I’m frustrated–”

“Y/N,” his voice of seriousness causes your eyes to drop into your lap. You fiddle with your thumbs like a nervous kindergartener on their first day of school. It wasn’t like you to get so shy. You were a bartender for a living; you couldn’t be shy. But you just haven’t reserved these types of feelings for someone in so long it feels foreign. It feels as though you’re stretching outside of your comfortable zone and forcing you to be sheepish with your eyes down.

“Fine. I like…our friendship. A lot. But this week made me realize that I want more than that. With you,” You peer up at him through your eyelids, hoping not to see his face cringe with disgust at your words. But Harry’s face is flattened straight with nothing but the intent of listening. He even has a sparkle of softness in his eyes that makes your heart lurch out to him. He cared, and it showed in his features. Your mom always told you that people’s real emotions were always revealed on their face, and it was written like a love letter over his.

His patient silence makes you want to fill it with some type of conversation due to the uncomfortableness with your sudden vulnerability. Skittishly, you swallow in an attempt to coat your dry throat. “But I haven’t got much further than that. I know that I’m attracted to you. I mean, fuck, you saw the video, right? I probably didn’t even need the bullet–what did I just say? That’s not what I wanted to say. I wanted to say that I don’t want this to just be an attraction because I don’t think I could handle that. That felt good to say. I think I’ve said “say” too much and now it sounds weird…”

“I feel that way too,” he replies, the smallest curve of his lip breaking the straight line. He adores the way you rant when you're nervous, it is now a new thing he is adding to his list. He loves making you nervous because you give him little details about yourself. “Thank you for finally getting the balls to tell me. Took you long enough.”

You didn’t expect him to say that. You didn’t practice that in the shower! “Me?! You were the one who was avoiding me!” You were shouting, but it was all fun now. A laugh followed as a bright smile crept on your face. Something like a weight felt lifted off your shoulders, off your chest.

“But who said something first?”

“You said you liked my breasts and that you get jealous easily. Doesn’t seem like you were confessing any feelings,” You jokingly roll your eyes as he scoots closer to you.

“Why would I get jealous if I didn’t like ya? Thought I made tha’ obvious.”

“Could have been more. Then we could have avoided this all together.”

“You probably would’ve just stood there with y’mouth open.”

Your mouth indeed falls open as he laughs, his comment causing you to gasp in joking offense. You take that moment to punch his shoulder, but his hand catches your wrist during the movement. Your laughs are halted when you both realize how close you are; your thighs were touching and his face was only a few inches from yours. The whiff of his scent gave you flashbacks to last night when he caught you and you were pressed perfectly against his toned chest. Thinking of his chest made you remember the videos you saw online and how addicting they were to watch, especially after you found out it actually was Harry. Now, you know how porn addicts come to be.

Unintentionally, you lick your lips while looking at his. You don’t miss the way he does the same, glaring at your lips like he’s starving and their his last meal. Your lips have haunted him ever since your first day; painted in red and screaming fierce. The way you smiled was mesmerizing to Harry, but you could say the same about Harry’s effortless charm. It’s been too long dreaming and imagining your lips on his own. Now, with everything out in the open–besides the whole porn star thing, which is for another time–maybe he can finally kiss those lips. Kiss them so well that he ruins any other man for you in the bar, in school, in porn, in life. Staring at your lips made Harry think crazy things. He can’t even imagine the filth his brain will conjure if he sees your naked body in real life.

He’s getting too ahead of himself.

“You smell good,” You whispered, forcing yourself to break the pressing tension. You two were slowly inching towards each other, so he could feel your words float over his own lips like a ghost. He hums at the feeling and the compliment. “Like a forest.”

“How long are we gonna sit like this until I can kiss ya?” The statement made your cheeks blaze with fire and your stomach tumble.

Clearly you were both done beating around the bush.

“I was waiting for you to ask! What if you didn’t want to? You know how important consent is too–”

But Harry doesn’t wait for you to stop your incessant rant. He smashes his lips to yours like he’s been dying to all this time. Your lips mush together, creating a warm, gooey feeling inside of your stomach. Harry releases your wrist and slides his hands down to your waist and carries you over to his lap. You gently bite down on his bottom lip seductively, causing him to groan against you. His rough hands pinch the skin of your hips, making you squeak in his mouth. He uses the opportunity to slide his tongue in, exploring your mouth like its new land on earth.

It’s been so long for you, you can barely remember the last time you’ve been kissed. But you know for damn sure it was never like this. It was never this fiery, this passionate, this wanted, this needed. Kissing Harry was like drinking water after being dehydrated; so obsessively satisfying, you can’t get enough. Until you drink too much and then your stomach hurts, but you doubt that will happen.

Harry can feel himself growing impressively hard underneath you. Even with you above him fully clothed has his body and mind going haywire. He’s not sure how far this is going to go, but he’s also not sure how long he’s going to last. Shit, if you even palm his bulge he might come.

And you thought he didn’t want this.

Your hands around his neck slide their way down his chest as his grip on your hips gets tighter. He pushes you closer, making you arch your back until your breasts are pressing against his chest. The abrupt movement causes the kiss to break, a breathless gasp eliciting from your swollen mouth.

“Jesus,” Harry huffs out.

“What?”

Harry ignores your question. “What do y’want?”

“You…? I thought I made that pretty clear–”

“Don’t be a smart mouth. Or I’ll put it to good use,” His threat sends a tingle straight to your core, which was covered by your soaking underwear. Just the idea of him forcing you on the floor to take his cock in your throat was erotic enough for you to get off of. Actually doing it might make you come on the spot. “What, you like that?”

“What if I do?”

“Then I can make it happen, baby.”

“But what if I want something else more?”

“Say the words.”

You hesitated. As a porn star, you’re pretty good with dirty talk. In the past, you have had no problem whispering sweet, seductive words. But Harry has your tongue tied, brain mushy, and body gooey.

“I want you inside of me.” You were straight-forward. Honest. After this whole ordeal with you two, you figured you both deserved some relief.

“I’ve been waiting too fuckin’ long for those words.”

Without wasting another minute, Harry lifts both you and himself off the couch. You make a little squeal sound before grabbing on tight to him so you don’t fall. When you somehow get to his bedroom, you’re gently tossed on his bed with a smile hanging from your lips. Harry climbs over you and immediately tugs the hem of your shirt.

“Please take it off.”

You did not need to tell him twice.

Harry did just as you asked as quickly as possible because you two were both getting a bit desperate. Like before, Harry loves edging and teasing and being in control. And one day, he’s going to do it all with you. But right now, he just needs to be inside of you, as selfish as it sounds.

Once he flips your shirt off, you’re brisk to clip off your bra. Goosebumps pimple along your skin in anticipation of what’s to come as Harry’s eyes flit over your body. He swallows harshly, mind swimming in a thousand thoughts that were all related to you. His searing gaze only makes you more flushed with heat, elbows sinking into the mattress while you wait for him to do something. You push yourself up and tug the end of his T-shirt.

“Well, what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“‘Cause you’re really here.”

“That is so sweet, but please, fuck me first. I need it.” Maybe his searing gaze also gave you a newfound confidence that allowed you to say what was actually on your mind. His intense stare made you feel powerful. Like you were in control.

“Jesus Christ, we have to fix that mouth,” he growls as you slide off his shirt over his head while he kneels on the edge of the bed. You don’t even get another word in before he’s crashing his lips back onto yours in another heated kiss.

It’s not much different from the first one–maybe a little more sloppy because you’re both getting needy. Both your mouths are sloshed together with sparks tingling on your tongues. Those sparks are igniting flames within your souls, making the stress and yearning worth it. Everything felt worth it when you two were this close together.

With the same passion, Harry forces himself away from your mouth and down your neck. He’s not gentle with his teeth, nibbling with each peck of your skin he passes. Each nick injects excitement through your veins, turning you on more than you would like to admit. You already know that there will be little marks because your skin is so sensitive, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You actually are endeared by a bunch of little marks rather than a few huge ones. Maybe you can pass the miniature hickies off as freckles…

When Harry gets to your breasts, he wants to stop and stare. Take a few long minutes to just encompass the beauty that is in front of him. But he assumes you don’t want to be ogled anymore, since he was standing still and gazing at you like a teenage girl taking a picture of a pink sunset. So, instead, his lips enclose around your nipple. His tongue glides around it, feeling its pointiness peak until he is satisfied with the sounds coming from your lewd mouth. He does the same to the other side until you’re panting and your heart has turned erratic.

His pink lips trail down your torso, marking each inch of skin with a bit of saliva and a warm kiss. His fingers traced your shape, gently scratching at your sides until you were practically squirming in his touch. You’ve never been this wet in your life and it was driving you insane. Harry was driving you insane.

“So soft, Honey,” he coos when he reaches the waistline of your pants. You help him remove the clothing, so you’re not wasting anymore time because it’s blatantly obvious you’re both desperate as hell. His compliment made your skin tingle and your spine shiver. That nickname would be the death of you, you were sure of it. He made you feel all hot and dizzy but also made you gooey and cared for. It was an intense combination of emotions that you definitely needed to sort out. But after you get his cock inside of you.

Yeah. You could settle for that.

Harry now had a full view of your underwear, which was completely soaked through. But at this point, you’re not even embarrassed as much as you are needy. Hell, you’re even spreading your legs wider for him so he has quicker access to you. Yeah. It was that bad.

“Look at you all wet and drippy,” Harry smirks as he hooks his fingers in your panties. He surprises you by pulling them up, the fabric being consumed by your pussy lips. “Such a pretty cunt. Never even seen you this wet on a video. I must be special.”

“It’s all for you, Harry. Or should I say Daddy?” Now, you were smirking. You were only teasing, but at the same time, you were testing the waters. If Harry’s username used the title, you had an inkling that he had some type of kink towards it, right?

With a subtle grunt, he yanks your legs closer to him and widens them even further apart. He doesn’t even hesitate to rip your panties in half and discard the now wasted fabric.

“Harry!” You yelled, shocked at how quickly bare you are. And that he just shredded your underwear. But it was also kind of hot. Like very hot. He slapped the inside of your thigh as a warning, a stinging zip coursing straight to your core.

“No more Harry for you. Since y’want to be such a smart mouth, when you speak, y’better say Daddy.”

Before you know it, his head is lowering towards your cunt. His lips latch onto your clit similarly to your nipple and suck. You let out a gasping moan, fingers instantly clawing at the sheets of his bed. His tongue delves into your folds and warmly slips into you like you wished his cock would. But you were currently in heaven with the heat of his mouth devouring you like his last meal on Earth.

The way his large hands gripped and man-handled your thighs was enough to leave bruising. But you wanted the bruising. You wanted to feel the pain and soreness of this tomorrow just in case it never happens again. You’re not sure what all of this is going to mean for you guys, but you don’t think this will be the end. No, you think it’s going to be the beginning.

You could feel yourself getting wetter with each lick and slurp. Your tailbone was beginning to ache from arching your back to the absolute max. Once that all-too familiar feeling was rushing towards you like a train, Harry’s mouth only got quicker. He even started spitting on your cunt and watched the juices mix together, and that only made your insides clench at the lewdness of it all. Harry was a dirty, dirty man. You knew he was only showing bits and pieces of himself. You wanted to unravel it all and learn more about him and what he liked. But maybe that was for another time…

Without realizing it, your hands were sewn in his brown curls, forcing his head to remain on your clit until you reached your high. Harry’s groans were muffled into vibrations as you tugged, getting more pleasure through them. Your hips were moving in circular motions, but Harry pressed you down with his forearm to keep you flat and still.

“Har–” He pinched your ass, causing you to shriek and correct yourself, “Daddy, please, I’m so close. I’m right there.”

You rarely begged. On your livestreams and videos, you were confident and sexy and seducing because that’s what your audience liked. It’s what you’ve learned and grown to do. You weren’t used to needing something from someone else so fucking bad that you were pleading for them to make you satisfied. Harry’s mouth was currently your kryptonite because you would do anything for him to get you to the finish line.

He suckled on your clit for a few long seconds before you were coming in his mouth. Chants of his title were echoing loudly in his room that the neighbors probably thought you were dying. You were, just in a different way. Harry was gladly swallowing all your juices , his chin sloppy with all them. When it all got too much, you tried to push him away, but he didn’t move until he was completely done.

“Taste so sweet. Just like honey.”

He doesn’t fail to bring more heat onto your skin, even after just having his mouth on you. Something about the way he compliments you and manages to incorporate the word honey will always get you. He seems to read you so easily, and no one’s ever done that before.

“Knew from the video that you’d taste amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t believe you sent me that video by the way.”

“What? Why?”

“What if it wasn’t me?”

“It’s my job, Harry.”

“So? You were moanin’ my name. That means it’s for me. You’re for me.” The staring that was occurring between you quickly ended as your eyes flitted away from him. You made sure to look anywhere else but him as you heard the sound of his pants falling. Sometimes, Harry could be pretty blunt in the way he claimed you, but at the same time very guarded. He’s saying that you’re his, but you two haven’t even discussed things that far yet.

“Says who?”

“Says me. Right now,” Harry practically growls as he climbs over your body again, his insane physique hovering over you. You never thought you would actually see the day that Harry–the charming, tattooed, sexy man you worked with–was on top of you. You’ve only ever envisioned him in your wet dreams doing the most sinful things known. God wouldn’t be able to forgive the sins you’ve conjured in your brain.

You don’t even get to retort because you’re only thinking about his cock. You had felt his impressive bulge on the couch and assumed he had been rocking himself into the bed while eating you out. As he kissed your neck again, you would feel his hardness poking at you greedily, but you haven’t even looked at it yet. It was probably just as pretty as it was in all his videos.

He extends himself towards his night stand while you’re caught in your thoughts, snatching a condom. You’re glad he didn’t ask to go bare like most guys do. But “most guys” to you are a bunch of college losers who just want to get their dick wet and don’t actually care about the consequences. If you were to get pregnant, they probably wouldn’t even blink an eye before leaving. But you knew Harry wasn’t like that. No, he was the type to think things through and actually be mature about things. Besides the fact that he avoided you…but it’s not like you were very mature about it either. Maybe the age distance between you and Harry was something that you needed. The college boys just weren’t doing it for you.

It’s strange how so many thoughts can sprout from a simple as Harry grabbing a condom. The bare fucking minimum.

“What’s wrong?” Harry’s voice was full of concern as his thick thumb rubbed over your warm cheek. You hadn’t even realized how close he had gotten since he had stretched over towards the drawer and you didn’t know that he’d already put the condom on. So, again, you missed the sight of his huge, God-like dick in-person. Despite all of that, a ping of appreciation hit you right in the heart at Harry’s attention to detail because you know that those college boys wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing.

“Nothing, I–”

“Don’t lie, Honey. Do y’still want this? We don’t have to,” he reassured, eyes sparking with something that was different from the hidden lust. His voice could be rough and firm, but it could also be soothing and sweet. He had these sides to him that he would encompass. Not necessarily switch like a light but transition into smoothly.

“Harry, I’m fine. I promise. This is the only thing I want right now,” You rested your hand on top of his on your cheek. At that moment, everything felt a little more intimate. A little more love-like. The idea of sex turning into “love-making” currently terrified you, but the racing of your heart wasn’t from fear. No, it felt like it was exciting and anxious but in the best way. “Actually, I would be not so fine if you didn’t put your dick in me.”

“You have such a dirty mouth when you’re blunt, Honey,” Harry smoothes his hand down your body and finds your clit again, rubbing gentle circles over the throbbing nerves. Even though you just came only minutes prior, you continued to get wet with every second you were waiting for him. The sight of his body with all those beautiful designs was enough to get you ready for another. He didn’t even have to work you up.

“Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I’m hearin’ more attitude than screams of m’name. Let’s change that.”

With a devilish smirk, Harry pushes himself close to you and levels into you. His cock enters you slowly but fully as your lungs forget to breathe. Realizing this, you breathe before Harry can scold you about it. His dick was nearly all in because you could feel the weight of his thighs hovering over you deliciously along with the rest of his tattooed body.

When Harry hears and sees you take a deep breath, he pulls out just to push back in again. You elicit a shaky moan as Harry groans gravelly near your chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry moans louder into the air as his thrusts become harder, more direct. With just those few thrusts, he already knows exactly where your weakness is and makes it his life goal to hit it every single time.

Harry’s hips move rapidly, pinning your body to the bed as you wiggle underneath him. His muscles are contracting against the pressure of each insane plunge into you while your insides are being reassorted. His size makes it difficult to move, difficult to breathe, yet you’re loving it immensely.

Staring at his arms, you don’t even think about grabbing one of his arms that’s holding him up and laying it on your neck. One of Harry’s furrowed eyebrows lifts up in surprise before that familiar smirk is plastered right back onto his smug face.

“Fuckin’ filthy. I knew you were. What else are y’hiding from me?” Harry’s hand wraps around your neck just as you silently asked. As his fingers block your air flow just enough to make you a little fuzzy, your cunt clenched around his cock. Besides your moans and groans and whimpers, the sound of skin to skin is bouncing across the bedroom like your own personal song. Your anthem. When he releases, the blood flow returns, but he keeps his hand there. “C’mon, Y/N, tell me. What other kinks do you have?”

“I know y’like it rough. Don’t like it when Daddy goes too easy on ya. Do you like to be spanked too? Hmm? Slapped and bitten? Like to have marks all over you so everyone can see?” His brutal thrusts never stop, not even when his breath becomes a little lost. He’s slamming into you like he’s trying to make a dent in your organs, and quite frankly, he just might if he keeps going at the rate he is. But you don’t seem to care too much at the moment. “Do you like people watching? Is that why you post videos of our pretty, little cunt all over the internet? So people can watch you?”

“I don’t hear you,” his voice, raspy and sexy, whispered in a low-threat type of way as his hand rubs over the pulse of your neck temptingly again.

“I g-guess I do like people watching me…” Your voice was breathless as your mind became foggy. Harry did have a way of doing that to you, especially with his hand on your now strained neck. “L-Like when you watch me.”

“‘Course you do. That’s ‘cause you’re dirty. Just like me.” If it was possible, he rocks into you more barbarically until your legs are shaking. You can feel the muscles in your thighs start to spasm, urging to close as you chase your inevitable high.

“Daddy, God, you’re so big. So, so big,” You whined helplessly into the sex-filled air. Your hairs were scratching, tugging, pulling, clawing at everything at the same time, trying to manage all the intense pleasure that was coursing through your body. It was almost too much to handle. Harry seemed to know how to push your limits without killing you, and you’ve craved that feeling for so long. “L-Love your cock. Oh my God!”

“Poor baby. I’ve gotten you all cock drunk; you can’t think of anything else besides m’cock. ‘S that good, huh?” A choppy chuckle elicits from his mouth and wavers over to your ear. Your chest was pressing into his as your core clutched with the sense of near-orgasm. “Gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes…” You were a mumbled, grumbled mess. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t talk straight. Harry was impairing all of your abilities with his dirty talk and his magical dick.

No, seriously. Was it like a thick magic wand or something?

Harry squeezes on your neck a couple times, lightly, just to push you right over the edge. Harry seemed to be a quick learner when it came to your body because you were instantly coming then. As Harry felt you orgasm for the second time tonight, he finally let go of his own. When you were coming around his tongue at the beginning of this all, he was having a hard time trying to not come in his own pants. He may have been stupid last night and selfish earlier, but he wasn’t going to do it again. He was going to make up for being a selfish prick and show you how he actually treats a woman. Because you deserve to be treated with nothing less than the best.

After you’re both settled, Harry regretfully slips out of you. Clearly, you felt the same way because you whined as he removed himself. After being inside of you and passing through the gates of heaven, why would Harry want to leave? But even though Harry wants to be as close to you as possible by simply cockwarming all day, he doesn’t want to rush this. It’s new, even if you guys have been friends for some time.

Plucking off the condom and knotting it, Harry waltzes towards his bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up. The soft smile on your face when he returns highlights how grateful you are for his aftercare as he gently wipes up the mess both of you helped create.

“How do you feel?” Harry genuinely asks before placing the towel at the foot of his bed. He briskly moves to his dresser to pick out a new pair of boxers.

“I’m sorry if this offends you, but you have a great ass,” You bluntly state, completely avoiding his question. “But I’m okay.”

Harry laughs as he slips on the clothing. “Just okay? No pain?”

“Yeah. If okay translates to “my vagina is broken for every man ever and both my legs are going to hate me tomorrow”,” You smile innocently as Harry grabs two shirts. He chucks one at you, smiling goofily. It hits you in the face with a laugh before you slip it over your head.

“Good.”

“Good? I might have to take a week off work to heal from the damages.”

“Guess you’ll just have to stay in my bed.”

You roll your eyes before pushing yourself off his bed, contradicting his statement.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to my real boyfriend’s house,” You roll your eyes again facetiously and leave his room, rounding the same corner that he did before yelling, “Bathroom!”

When you return, you plop yourself on Harry’s bed like it was normal. It was comfortable. It felt right. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t forced. That was the good thing about two friends getting together. After sex, or work, or school, or just a bad day, or even a good day, they could always just talk. As you sat on Harry’s bed, it was easy to joke and make conversation while still feeling that subtle spark of electricity in between you two. That spark was the difference between platonic and romantic.

“We should watch a movie,” You suggested.

“Where should we look? PornHub?” His dry humor made you laugh as you cozied up in his bed. He didn’t hesitate to pull you close and you liked that. Maybe a little too much for your own good. Your heart was thumping in a way that was melting away the frozen walls around it. It made you happy that something in your life finally seemed to be working out.

“Maybe start with Netflix,” You laid your head on his shoulder as the ironic logo appeared on his TV. “I, um.”

“What?” Harry peeked down at you.

“I think I like this a lot,” Harry smiles at you. He could tell from the beginning that it was hard for you to say things like that to him. That’s why it made him feel like such an asshole for storming out the other night. You needed time to process everything he had just told you, but he was too nervous for your rejection, so he left. Even though he’s six years older than you and may seem more mature, everyone makes stupid and selfish mistakes.

“Well, I hope so, Honey, ‘cause I do too,” Even those simple words have the ability to warm and satisfy your scared, little heart.

“But I’m still not taking your money.”

–

i hope you all liked these two :))

taglist:

@whoreonmondays @armystay89 @meighasfangirldiary @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @likeapplejuicenpeach | @kathb59 @gem1712 @ppleasingg @onlyangle1 @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921 @storyschanging

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #baby honey #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles gif #harry styles stories #harry styles fans #harry styles fluff

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jfksbrainmatter · 1 month

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personal space heater. 🤍

miguel o’hara x reader

genre : fluff 🧸

summary : you’re cold, miguel warms you up. <3

author note : i wrote this while shivering to death (vv self-indulgent)

wc : 316

you came home late from work in the dead of winter, cursing yourself for picking up extra hours while walking to your bedroom. miguel, your boyfriend, was snoring peacefully in bed, warm and cozy. when you slipped off your uniform you realized just how cold the air around you was. you threw on one of miguel’s t-shirts (that was two sizes too big) and fought against the shivers radiating in your chest. after taking down your hair and washing your face, you rush to crawl into bed next to miguel, feeling his warmth envelope you as his soft snores fill the room.

as you scoot closer to miguel, you feel him stir from the touch of your cold hands on his body, his snores stopped filling the air around you. shit. you huddle close to him, not caring about having woken him up and searching for any kind of warmth as he groans and squirms from the shocking cold of your touch.

“what the hell amor?” miguel grumbly mumbles, voice thick and deliciously raspy with sleep. “sorry m-miggy i’m jus’ so c-cold” you respond in a quivering tone. miguel sighs, rolling on his side and pulling you to press into his chest, your ice cold hands reaching under his shirt making him jump. “hey- watch it….” he says as a warning, not having any real threat behind his words.

“you’re like a damn space heater baby…” you giggle softly as you whisper to him, your whole body shivering as miguel rubs his giant hands over your arms and back to stop them. i mean- his poor baby is cold, he has to help her get warm somehow!! miguel finally wraps his arms around you, kissing your head lazily and sighing.

“go to sleep corazón, you had a long day at work..” he rests his head against yours as you slowly fall asleep in his warm, comfy arms.

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heronpoxed · 4 months

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Say what you wanna say about Kelsier but that man knew how to love and he loved with a raw fucking passion.

For years he was led to believe that Mare had mercilessly betrayed him before she died and yet he still insanely loved and missed her — something that he stated as a simple fact and not as a guilty confession.

Kelsier and Mare had 0 page-time together, but they still managed to snatch my fucking heart and push my expectations through the roof precisely because of how Kelsier talked about her! Is there anyone who does it like him? Hell nah!

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

#honey i’m home #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #eddie x you angst #Eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you fluff

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twizzie-lairs · 2 months

Text

"My Darling, My Honey"

Chapter/Part Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14 - Final

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 months

Text

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Twenty-Five: Heart Felt Truths

Summary: 4.7k Curtis x Plus!Sized Reader. While still dealing with the power outage, you get to spend more time with Curtis's family and Curtis takes you out with Sophia to show you something special.

Warnings- None.

A/N- Wow it's been a while but I hope you all are still here for the ride. @what-is-your-plan-today edited this chapter for me ages ago, so I have to thank you for doing, I always appreciate your input with these two. @mumbles411 ... This is for you! You have been asking for this moment for a while. Again, THANK YOU EVERYONE for reading and sharing. Dividers made by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Chapter Twenty-Four / Masterlist

There was a soft patter of feet across the old creaky floor and a giggle at the end of the bed. Curtis knew it was coming, had warned you that Sophia would probably crawl in with you both first thing in the morning. He let his gaze slit open to see her at the foot of the bed, grabbing onto the blankets to pull herself up.

The room was still gray, the hues of dawn barely coming, not quite arriving fully yet and of course, his niece was wide awake right now. He was going to need coffee, coffee would require more work than usual with the power out.

Maybe if he waited long enough Ella or Lisa would make coffee, that sounded like a better plan.

Next to him, you stirred, lifting your head enough to see what was moving at the end of the bed, before you burrowed back into your pillows, making Curtis snort softly in amusement. You weren’t a morning person, not unless you had to be.

“Uncle Curtis.” Sophia whispered, crawling up the middle of the bed. Curtis lifted an arm for her to come snuggle in against his chest, Sophia tumbling under the blankets while both you and Curtis shifted to give her space. “Momma is snoring.”

“Does she sound like the train at work?” Curtis muttered sleepily.

“Louder!” Sophia said with some enthusiasm and Curtis pressed a finger to his lips, pointing at you next to them.

“Quiet voices, Y/N and I are still sleeping.”

You were quick to fall back asleep while Sophia tucked herself up under her uncle's chin.

“Can I have your phone?” She whispered and without opening his eyes, he reached behind him on the nightstand, feeling around for the device. When he handed it to her, she expertly unlocked it and picked her favorite app he had downloaded for her.

“Volume off Soph.” He whispered against the crown of her head, which Sophia compiled while she started her game.

Curtis knew he wasn’t going to be falling back to sleep, but he could just enjoy this moment of peace before the day came blaring full force, requiring him to participate. Now very grateful that he had insisted the two of you get fully dressed again just in case this happened. He let his mind wander, recalling how good a day yesterday was for all of you. The house was full of laughter and games, Sophia keeping all of you busy while the cold weather and loss of power kept you all together.

He knew Lillian and WIlford would have wanted their house like this, full of family and friends and no longer an empty shell of what was once a home.

Finally, Sophia got bored and announced she was leaving, so Curtis let her back out into the cool air and he pulled in closer to you, hugging around your waist to press his hand under your shirt to rest just under your breasts, making you wiggle back into him.

“Your hand is still cold.” You muttered, pulling the blankets further over them.

“Hmm sorry, do you want me to stop?” He nuzzled the back of your neck as he slipped further into the bed, spooning you from behind.

“No, it's warming up now.” Your hand rubbed against his arm around you and settled over the top of it. “It’s cold out there, isn't it?”

“Yeah Honey, I should go check that fire.” Curtis made no move to get up, just letting himself not leave his little warm bubble for a few more moments. “I was hoping Lisa or Ella would start coffee.”

“Oh god…” You half twisted to face him, your eyes hopeful. “What are the chances?”

He grinned, pushing up to lean over and kiss you, morning breath be damned, he was feeling good and wanted you to feel just as good. “Give me ten minutes and I will be back, with coffee.”

You squealed in laughter as he flushed more kisses across your nose and then pulled away while you flipped all the blankets back over yourself.

Curtis hummed as he went down the stairs, his bare feet cold on the floor when he landed on at the bottom, making him hop from one foot to the other till he got to one of the runner rugs he had scattered around the downstairs. He glanced around to see the bedroom where Lisa had the door eased open enough to let heat in but she must still be in bed. The pullout couch where Ella had slept with Sophia was back to being folded up in place, meaning his cousin must be awake. Curtis assumed Sophia was in Lisa’s bedroom by the sounds of a tablet playing a cartoon.

“I already got the fire going.” Ella said from the kitchen as she stepped into view, a steaming mug in her hands as she sipped from it. “It was chilly.”

“Thanks, I should have gotten up and checked it earlier.” Curtis bypassed her, stealing her cup to sip from. When she smacked at his back, he flashed her a grin and took another before handing it back to her with a grimace on his face. “Too much sugar.”

“Heathen.” Ella sputtered as she claimed her mug once more, scowling at him. “I need it to sweeten me up. Mom’s here, but you mind watching Soph for a while? I gotta get to the aquarium, check in on what the upcoming plan is and help feed. Cole already sent me a message saying he was there all night.” Ella sputtered to herself as she glanced once more at her phone. “Idiot never told me he actually needed help keeping everything functioning.”

Curtis was busy at the stove to make you both a mug, giving a nod. “Of course, you know I’m never gonna say no to watching my favorite niece.” He motioned with his hand that she should go.

“Your only niece and this is why I keep you around. You are useful.” Ella teased as she savored more of her coffee.

“Glad to be useful.” Curtis pipped up as he mixed everything together. “Want me to take you over? I don’t think it snowed or anything last night. But you never know what the wind kicked onto the roads.” He peered out his back window over the sink, but it looked like yesterday, his backyard knee deep in snow.

“Nah, I’m good. Stop trying to take care of all of us.” Ella scolded him while draining the last of her cup, Curtis mimicking her with a roll of his eyes. “Have more fun today, chill out. You are just getting the hang of it.” She winked as she set her mug in the sink. “Even Mom noticed how much you have changed.”

“What do you mean changed?” His brows arched in surprise.

Ella continued getting ready to leave, sliding on a jacket and stuffing a scarf around her neck. “Yeah, she said you hadn’t laughed like that since you were a kid.” Ella gave a wave. “And yes, if I need anything, I will call. See you later!”

Curtis mused a moment at what Ella said. She was right though just as she had been before Christmas, he was happier. Life has been better since the beginning of September. It made him smile, a content feeling settling in his chest.

His thoughts drifted to last night and how different even that was for him. Last night he was overcome with just needing to feel you and make you feel good. He didn’t even have his own pleasure in mind when he was with you. It was all about making you feel beautiful and appreciated. It wasn’t sex, it didn’t feel like sex.

Sex was always good, but that wasn't it. He never was that kind of intimate with someone, rarely did he bring anyone home before and the times he was dating, sex was always just for fun. Now you lived here part time and it was still for fun, but he craved that connection it built each time as well.

This was more and the tingles of realization tickled his mind. Love, that was love and it settled like he was wrapped in a blanket around him.

He really loved you.

Curtis inhaled deeply in a calming manner as he let this knowledge take hold, in the silence of his kitchen with the morning sun shining bright to light up the room, he glanced up, looking around the old kitchen, swearing he felt someone with him.

“Is this what it's like? You two would know.”

As he picked up the mugs to bring back upstairs, Curtis could have sworn he felt a hand on his shoulder like it was confirming that it was a yes.

You rolled to your back, still wrapped up in clothes and blankets, the sun warming your face. A soft smile played on your lips. Last night had been incredible, you never felt such passion and connection with anyone before. It made flutters fill your belly, excited at what overcame the two of you last night. Whatever it was, you wanted more of that feeling, that feeling that it was just the two of you in the world.

Curtis had always been an affectionate man with his loved ones and that attention was what you felt last night. His complete devotion. You wanted to think of it as love, but you just weren’t quite sure that’s what it was. You thought Jake loved you, he said it early on to you and you were sure that's what it was for you too. Towards the end, he said it less and less, only when he was trying to persuade you to do something you didn’t want to. It was always the nudge to push you to do what he wanted till that last night. The memories that you had yet to talk about out loud with anyone made you shudder for a second, pushing it away.

That was something you still weren’t ready to deal with.

Instead, you went back to thinking about last night, your connection with Curtis, how it felt so absolute for you. Curtis never said anything beyond needing you, but it felt like so much more than just a quickie for you two.

But you didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

You were still mulling over the sensation when Curtis came in, two mugs carefully balanced. You pushed up to a sit, taking a steaming mug gratefully to take a sip.

He knew you well, having your coffee made just the way you liked it. “Ella is already out the door, I told her I didn’t mind watching Sophia today.”

“Mmmh.” Your eyes closed peacefully as the caffeine worked its magic. “Anything you wanted to do? Or anything you had to do away from the house? I don’t mind sticking around with Sophia while you go out.” You offered and peeked at him while you took another sip, sensing his surprise at your offer. “What?”

“You would do that?” Curtis asked incredulously, like you were offering the world.

“Well yeah? Why wouldn’t I? I love hanging out with Sophia, she is such a great kid to be around.” You shrugged it off, still not seeing why he was so surprised.

Curtis blew on his coffee before taking a rather large swallow, getting as much of the hot liquid in him as possible to prepare for his niece's energy before answering. “Not many jump at a chance to babysit, especially someone else’s kid in my experience.” He shrugged back, a grin forming on his face as he leaned forward to peck your lips affectionately. “So thank you, I know Ella would let you take Sophia anytime. But today you are stuck with me. I don’t have to go anywhere.” He set his mug down and rubbed at his head, waking himself up further. “I wish the power would come back on so I could trim this down.” His fingers tugged at the slightly longer strands, making your gaze lift.

He might not like the longer strands, but you did. You bit at your lip and set your mug aside to shift to a kneel before him, running your hands through his hair and marveling at how soft it felt against your palm. “Not gonna lie stud, I like it.”

A wicked gleam formed in his eyes as he watched the way you enjoyed touching him. “Do you now… I might have to keep it.” Your fingers tightened in the short hair, barely able to tug on it a bit.

“Will you? Not for long, I just really want to…” Your fingers gave another slight pull to drag his head back to expose his neck, making you lean into it, nipping playful kisses along his bobbing adam’s apple. Your tongue darted out, another playful seduction that made Curtis groan in your hands.

“Anything for you.” He muttered, letting himself enjoy the change in the room, both of you edging on staying in bed just like this.

“You spoil me Curtis.” You let your hands smooth through his hair and lean into him while he wrapped you into his arms, pulling you in against him while stealing a coffee laced kiss from you.

“As long as you will let me.” He winked and the bedroom door creaked open to show Sophia poking her head in, staring at the two of them. “What's up Sophia Bear?” Curtis questioned while you moved back for your mug on your nightstand.

“I’m hungry!”

Curtis pushed up and swiftly grabbed a giggling Sophia in his arms. “Alright, let's go feed you, what do you say? Brussel sprouts? Last I knew that's what little cubs like you eat.”

You give him a look and snort into your coffee, Sophia mimicking you with utter repulsion. “Ice cream!”

“No way kid, it's cold out already and you want ice cream? How about…. A chicken leg?” He wrapped his hand around her ankle giving it a shake and lifting like he was gonna take a bite out of it.

“NO!” Sophia squealed, squirming till he dropped her on the bed, making her roll into you to protect her from her uncle. When she was snuggled in your side, she contemplated what he could make her. “Tater tots.”

“Where am I supposed to get tater tots, Soph? Powers out.” Curtis flopped back on the bed next to you two. “I can make you some toast.” He started and she gave a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Boring.”

You pipped up just as Curtis was gearing up with another hopeless suggestion. “Have you ever had cinnamon sugar toast?”

“What’s that?” Sophia asked and Curtis smacked his palm against his forehead.

“Oh I forgot all about that. Sophia wouldn't want that though… it's too good.”

“No, I want it.” Sophia started and you shrugged, sipping from your coffee.

“You sure, I mean… It's pretty special. Much more special then tater tots and ice cream.”

You said in all seriousness and Sophia’s eyes got huge.

“I want it.”

You looked at Curtis, his eyes showed relief that you were able to bring Sophia around to the suggestion of something easy. “Alright kiddo, let's go make it together.” He held his arms out and the bouncing child leaped at him, clinging around his neck while Curtis moved to a stand. “My grammy used to make this for me and your mom so I got the super-secret recipe.” He glanced over at you still curled up on the bed, savoring more of your coffee. “Take your time coming down Honey.” He dropped earnestly and you nodded with a smile, watching as the two of them headed for the stairs, Sophia now asking questions about the super secret recipe.

You sighed in pure happiness at where you were right that moment.

The morning went quickly, Ella sent a message saying that she was going to be at the aquarium for the day helping out, which Curtis told her to take her time. Sophia loved the cinnamon toast, which you also diced up an apple with some yogurt you had in the fridge, luckily still cold. Lisa came out later in the morning, looking bleary-eyed and angling for some hot water that you heated on the stovetop.

You were able to keep Sophia entertained with coloring at the table while you read through some manuscripts looking for the next drama club play. Curtis was back and forth between hanging at the kitchen table, coloring with Sophia and out in his shed out behind the house, a motor once in a while sputtering to life before it would die out. Lisa spent her time in the living room, back to her crochet project.

When you sank in the couch next to her, Sophia cuddling up under some blankets next to you to watch her tablet, you took a few more lessons from Lisa, listening to her talk about more of Curtis’s past as a kid and her own memories of her childhood in the house.

It was late afternoon when Curtis triumphantly came inside, Sophia having just woken up from a nap in her grandmother's bed, all bundled up back in the blankets on the couch watching some other cartoon Ella had saved for her.

“How would you two feel about going for a ride?”

“What kind of ride?” You asked, knowing he wouldn't ever consider taking the vintage Camaro out in the snow. However, Sophia jumped right up as if she knew what he was talking about.

“Yeah!” She bolted down the hall off the kitchen for where the coat closet was. Lisa tucked the blanket over her leg all that much more.

“Have fun and be safe.” Clearly she had no interest in going.

“Snow machine.” Curtis grabbed your coat to hold it up, enticing you to join them. Sophia already was trying to wriggle into her snow pants.

“Oh no way, you have one?” You asked excitedly while going to stuff your arms into the jacket sleeves.

“Yeah, an old junker, but with some tweaking she works just fine.” Curtis admitted while you zipped up your coat.

“It’s not gonna break down on us, is it?” You asked with a tease, but the worried hint was still there, questioning if he had to work on it.”

“It’s fine, trust me.” He turned to help Sophia, who was almost dressed now while you were also pulling on more clothes for the wintery ride. “Right Sophia Bear?”

“Yeah! Uncle Curtis goes fast.”

“Not too fast!” Lisa called from the living room and Curtis huffed.

“Of course not.” Then he ushered you two out the door before any more questions could be asked. Out in the backyard, you three crossed to an older modeled two-seater. You stalled a bit, noticing it was just the one.

“Are you sure Curtis? It might be too much with both of us on it.”

Curtis tugged you closer, easily lifting you by your waist which you yelped in surprise and he perched you up on the back seat, making you sit slightly higher than his. “Honey, I swear this thing can easily handle more then the two of us.” Sophia was already climbing on, grabbing at the handles like she was going to drive. You fidgeted a bit while Curtis leaned forward, hands braced on the machine's seat as his forehead dipped with yours. “I also have something I really want to share with you. Please?”

When he asked like that, how could you continue to question it? With a nod, you smiled and Curtis dipped his head enough to kiss you, making you giggle as he disappeared into the shed to go grab some helmets. You fit yours on while Curtis made sure Sophia’s was on correctly. Eventually, he swung himself onto the sled and settled with you as you wrapped your arms around his waist to press up behind him. Sophia sat in front of him, protected in his arms, excited to go. He turned the key, and the sound of the machine filled the snowy area and you lurched off into the woods, on a well-worn path Curtis had made over the years.

It was exhilarating, watching the trees zip by as Curtis took turns on occasion, leading you further away from the house. He was sure to slow at the curves, having you all lean just right to keep the sled from tipping on the uneven ground. Eventually, you guys made your way towards the snowy covered lake, severely frozen over in the late winter months, all across it were tracks where other people enjoyed the freedom the lake provided. Sophia squealed excitedly from the front, loving the rush of the machine with all the speed it gave. Curtis revved the motor several times, making her all that more excited.

He took you along the lake’s edge, letting you all see the quiet expanse of the town, just the occasional lights and hums from someone’s generators making a disturbance in the quickening approaching evening. The sky was turning all hues of color, stars quickly dotting the landscape's edge of the lake. The wind howled across, making you feel the bite of it escaping under the helmet and you would hide your face against Curtis’s shoulder when he turned the machine towards the middle of the lake, opening it up fully to zip further away from the shore. It wasn't far though before he started slowing back down, the ice far ahead was giving way to choppy water where the lake was to wild to freeze over.

You lifted your head to admire the way the snow glinted off the bit of light coming from the stars and moon above where twilight finally gave way to the night sky. The frozen crystals started putting on a show, once the motor quieted, the water could be heard even from quite a distance away. You leaned off Curtis’s strong back to sit up straight again, tugging off the helmet to let the cool air wash over your face. Curtis swung off onto the ice and helped Sophia off.

“Soph, what are the rules when we are on the lake?”

“No going past Mater.” She patted the snow machine and Curtis gave a nod before letting her go.

Sophia pushed herself across like she was ice skating on her boots, back towards the shore. He popped his helmet off and held out his hands to help you off as well. Swinging your leg over the seat, you slipped off, sliding into his arms, which he held you up with a grin. “Watch out, it's slick Honey.”

“We need ice skates.” You clutched at his jacket till you were steady.

“Next time we can grab some. I have a bunch stored in the shed I kept the snow machine in. The snow is kept just shallow enough here by the wind to easily skate.” Curtis backed up slowly, taking your hands and bringing you with him while Sophia shot around you two, giggling and dancing to some music she was imagining.

“Is your snowmobile named Mater, after the Disney truck?” You asked as he suddenly swung you closer, making you two grip at each other.

“Last winter she was obsessed with Cars. She named the Camaro Lightning McQueen.”

You laughed with a tilt of your head. “Perfect name. You know, I used to skate all the time with Jade when we both lived in Lake George together. When she moved to Florida, no one was interested.” You shared while you two slipped on the ice, using each other for balance. “What did you want to show me?”

“Look up Honey.” His head tilted back and you followed suit to see a night sky as brilliant as your first date. Only here the Milky Way took over, stretching overhead in a light-colored streak, dappled with so many stars it was impossible to count them all. “Do you know what mythology says that is?”

You gave a slight shake of your head, still in awe of the miracle above you. Curtis turned you around so you were tucked under his chin, your back pressed to his chest. “That’s the bifrost or birost depending on what you're reading. A rainbow bridge from earth to Asgard, where the Norse gods live.”

“Did Wilford tell you that?” You questioned as you admired the sky, appreciating all that much more, you could tell from Curtis’s tone that it was a thing of beauty and wonder for him too.

“He did, he would bring me out here on nights like this. Usually ice fishing, we had to hike out here. But I always looked forward to it, when you get to see something like this…” His tone drifted off, tucking his face in closer to your neck, you could feel the warmth of him seeping into you. Around you Sophia plopped in the snow, singing Frosty the Snowman although it was the very beginning of March. “Honey, I gotta tell you something. I’ve been waiting all day, for this moment really..”

You tore your gaze away from the wonder above you, trepidation seeping into your pores. Curtis sounded so serious what you turned in his hold, to face him. Whatever he was going to say, you wanted it to your face, so that there was no mistaking what it was.

“Honey…” His hands came up to your cool face, the touch warming you as calloused fingers slid against the softness of your full cheeks. “I love you, I have for a while and right now, when I get to show you some of my favorite wonders in this world that I have never wanted to share with anyone else, you have to know.”

You let out a huff of surprise at his words, not at all what you were expecting. Your lips parted, unsure of what you were about to say because so much was filling your mind in this moment, standing before Curtis, someone who treated you better then anyone ever has before.

“Before you say it Honey, mean it. I don’t want you feeling like you need to say it because I did… do it when you are ready to, if you ever are.”

That was it, you literally couldn't fall more in love with him anymore and you shook your gloves off to fall at your snow-covered boots. You placed your warm hands over his on your cheeks, to feel his hold in your own and luck would have it warm up his fingers with yours as you weaved your touch into his, tucking his hands down and closer to your heart, your warmth able to fill him.

“Curtis of course I love you! You showed me what I wanted in this life, what being with someone should be like. You have so much to give to everyone in your life and every day I count myself lucky to be yours, to be able to love you back.”

His blue eyes were soft in the small bit of light the Milky Way provided. Around you Sophia was still entertaining herself, flinging herself across the ice and smacking into Curtis’s legs, making the two of you tumble on the ice into the snow, laughter ringing out from you. A very shocked Curtis rolled off you enough to make sure you were okay while Sophia pulled herself up off the ground. Curtis gave a quick glance at his niece, who was happily back to skating on the patch of ice before turning back to you.

“Are you okay?” He leaned over as you lay in the snow under him, looking up once more at the Milky Way streaking across the night sky, so clear without the light pollution from the nearby city.

“More than okay Curtis.” You pushed yourself up on your elbows, facing him. “I'm the happiest I have ever been and that is because I am with you.” You felt his arm slip under you, pulling you up enough to share the most passionate kiss you have ever experienced.

The stars shine as your witness.

#life is short so make it sweet #curtis and honey #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett and honey #curtis everett x honey #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett and plus sized reader #curtis everett x plus sized reader #curtis everett and you #curtis everett x you #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans #amber writes #sweater writes

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smokefalls · 1 year

Quote

Hold it gently, this hungry beast that is your heart. Feed it well.

Francesca Ekwuyasi, Butter Honey Pig Bread

#Francesca Ekwuyasi #Butter Honey Pig Bread #quote #fiction #queerlit #2022 reads

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slytherheign · 9 months

Text

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR | max verstappen

PART 1/4 OF BROKEN GLASS AND HONEY SERIES.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRINGS: max verstappen x fem!reader, slight daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: you find yourself fighting with max again. but this time, it hurts both of you more.

WARNINGS: cursing/swearing, unhealthy/abusive relationship (pls if you find yourself in a relationship like this, LEAVE), toxic behavior, hidden relationship, and allusions to sex. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 16+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift's song with the same title. also, pls remember that this is a work of fiction and i am in no way saying that max in real life behaves like this. dedicated to @writingstoraes, who helped me with making the social media stuff included in this. i hope you're having a great day, ily!

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

This happened way too often.

The screaming and throwing things at each other in his Monaco penthouse.

The living room was in disarray with shattered pieces of a vase strewn across the floor. Max had thrown it just minutes ago.

Today was the Monaco Grand Prix and Max had a bad race. You watched it from the stands like a typical fan and then left immediately after the race so you could get to his penthouse before him. You wanted to support him from the garage, but despite dating him for almost 2 years, your relationship was still hidden from the public. Even the Red Bull team didn’t know.

He almost lost because of the pitstop strategy and now he was taking his anger out on you. You were used to it at this point.

“It’s not fucking perfect! I didn’t get the fastest lap. I didn’t get driver of the day. Did you even see the interval between Fernando and me? He almost fucking won!” he screamed.

“But you still got P1,” you tried to calm him down although you knew it would do nothing. “You still won.”

He glared at you. Looking at your face with disgust.

“Of course, you wouldn’t understand,” he scoffed. “Because you don’t know a fucking thing about F1.”

That wasn’t true. You were a fan of the sport before you dated him. That was how you met each other, you attended a grand prix years ago. Max also knew that wasn’t true. That was one of the reasons why he loved you, you knew and understood him and his job. But he still said it. He said because he knew it would hurt you.

Silence hung heavy in the air as you stood on opposite sides of the room. You chose not to speak anymore, deciding it would be best if you just let his anger dissipate.

He absolutely hated the silence.

“WHY ARE YOU NOT TALKING?!” he yelled.

“WELL, WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!” you yelled back.

“I don’t know—something! You have a brain, fucking use it.”

“I don’t understand you. When I speak, you get mad. When I don’t speak, you get mad. What am I supposed to fucking do?!” you screamed, tears of frustration pouring down on your cheeks.

Now, he was the one speechless. He moved to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself down.

You followed after him minutes after, blood boiling out of anger because he was trying to escape another argument he caused in the first place.

“Now, you’re the one not talking,” you scoffed, crossing your arms and leaning on the wall. “For fuck’s sake, Max. You’re not the only one having a bad day. At least today, you still fucking won.”

“And you weren’t there to congratulate me,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it clearly. He knew he had hurt you and he was trying to deflect the situation by starting another argument—one that was very sensitive and he wouldn’t win.

“What the fuck are you saying?” you taunted.

“You heard me.”

“What is wrong with you? I was there. I was in the stands supporting you.”

Max knew he was in the wrong. He knew it wasn’t your fault but his. He realized he should apologize before things got too much out of control, but how was it, that instead of an apology, what left his mouth was another poor insensitive remark?

“Yeah. In the stands. You’re always in the stands. Never close to me.”

“Holy shit,” you laughed. “Is it my fault that even after almost 2 years of dating, you still don’t want to announce our relationship to the public? Are you really blaming me for something I never had control of?”

“Did I blame you? I never said it was your fault,” he wanted to stop, but his pride wouldn’t let him.

“Yes, you did! You know damn well if we weren’t hidden from the public eye, I would support you from the garage and hug you in front of everyone. But here you fucking are. Insinuating that I wanted to be in the stands instead of close to you,” you cried.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood up, wiped your tears, and kissed you roughly. He pushed you into the wall next to the door, locking it—even though no one else was in the house—with his one hand while his other grasped your hair to keep your face close to his.

You knew what he was doing. He was trying to get you to have sex with him instead of apologizing. He did this way too often and you always let him. But not this time.

“Stop,” you whispered, trying to pull away from him but his hold on you was strong. He moved to your neck, leaving marks everywhere but you pushed him back before the kissing led to something more.

“Max,” you stated sternly.

“What?” he shot back with a warning tone. His eyes were burning with lust and anger. A part of you wanted to give in like how you did almost after every argument with him in the past.

“We can’t continue doing this anymore, Max.”

“Just shut the fuck up. You know you want it.”

Part of you did want it.

“Not tonight,” you told him. “I think we should talk this out tonight.”

He pulled back. “Are you fucking serious?”

You glared at him.

“What if I don’t want to talk this out? Can’t we do something else? I’m sorry, okay? Is that enough?”

“You can’t even apologize properly, huh?”

“Can you stop? What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe start by announcing our relationship to the public,” you stated. You weren’t going to let him escape this tonight.

“Here we fucking go again,” he rolled his eyes.

The atmosphere was still charged with tension that never left. Stood in the center of chaos, was you and Max, faces flushed with anger.

“What? You don’t want to talk about this again? Well, I think we should. We absolutely should. I can't believe you still won't acknowledge our relationship, Max! We've been together for almost 2 years, and it's time we let the world know!”

Max clenched his fists, his voice filled with frustration as well, though quieter than yours was. “Y/N, you know I care about you. It's just... I've always been a private person. I don't like putting my personal life out there for everyone to see,” he said defensively.

“It's not about putting our personal life on display, Max. It's about acknowledging what we have, showing that we're proud to be together. But it feels like you're ashamed of me, like you don't even want people to know we're in love,” you wanted to scream but you didn’t, because he was finally communicating with you.

“It's not that at all! I'm not ashamed of you, I promise. I'm just scared of what might happen if we make this public. I don't want our relationship to become some spectacle.”

Your anger slowly turned into empathy as you saw the pain behind his eyes. You softened your stance and cautiously stepped closer to him. “We can't let fear dictate our lives. We deserve to be in a relationship where we can freely express what we feel for each other.”

“We can go through this like we always do. Whatever it is, We can fix it,” his voice cracked, as he struggled to express his vulnerability.

For a moment, you thought you finally got through him. That was until he talked again.

“Just wait for now.”

“Wait? We’ve already waited for almost 2 years. I’ve waited for you for almost 2 years. How many more years do you need? Another 2 years? 3 years? 6? How many more?” you sighed. “No, Max. We've been through this countless times. All we do is fucking wait.”

Max wasn’t angry anymore. He realized his mistake and knew what he should do. But the thing was, he still wasn’t ready. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered. It was all he could say.

He knew hiding you was unfair. If only you could just give him a little more time.

“Then fucking show it. I’m tired of this, Max. I feel like a fucking toy. Your family doesn’t even know I exist. I’m just someone you call when you want to fuck. I’m always hidden behind closed doors, never allowed to go out. I don’t even know how I lasted this long with you.”

“Because deep inside you know you love it too,” he stated. “Admit it, you love the thrill. The hiding, the fighting, and the screaming. You wouldn’t have stayed with me this long if you didn’t love it.”

He was right. You did love it.

The look in his eyes was doing something to your heart, convincing you to stay. But your mind was screaming at you to leave. You deserved someone and something better than this.

And just like what he said to you earlier, to use your fucking brain, you used your brain this time.

“This time I’ve had enough. I hope that we both find happiness, even if it means being apart,” you told him with a heavy heart.

He didn’t speak and you took that as a sign to leave.

He watched as you left the bedroom, not even bothering to get the clothes you kept in his closet. He sat on the edge of the bed again, left shattered as he heard your heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and the sound of the elevator door closing when you exited the house.

It’s been a few weeks since you walked away in the heat of the fight that night. A couple of race weekends had already passed.

Max has probably texted and called you a hundred times, none of them you replied to or picked up. You rested on your bed, relishing the silence that your apartment in Menton had. It was the complete opposite of Max’s penthouse, where you screamed at each other almost every day. You looked at your phone, scrolling through Twitter only to see the usual tweets from fans reacting to the previous race. One particular tweet caught your attention. It was a tweet about Max.

You laughed bitterly, thinking how they truly had no idea.

Just then, someone knocked on your door and your heart pounded with anticipation. You opened it to see Max, wearing a hoodie and a mask so the public wouldn’t recognize him. He let himself in when you didn’t acknowledge him. He walked into your living room, hesitantly glancing at you. He was unsure how you’ll react.

“Get back with me,” he said.

“Wow, not even an introduction? No ‘how are you?’ or ‘how have you been?’”

“I’m miserable without you,” he admitted. “Please, Y/N.”

You didn’t answer.

“I can change. If you don’t want us to fight or scream at each other, I’ll do my best to control myself.”

“It was never about the screaming, because if I’m being honest, a part of me loved it,” you confessed.

He stared at you with a glint in his eyes soon after you said that.

“Although, I would appreciate it if we didn’t argue almost every day. It gets exhausting to deal with you sometimes.”

“I can do that. I’ll work on myself.”

“But?” you asked. You knew there was more to what he was saying. You were sure there was a catch to this.

“But we still have to stay hidden for now. Give me more time, Y/N.”

And there it was. The catch.

“You know, I get the whole hiding from the public thing. I always knew you were a private person and being in the public eye doesn’t help that. But not introducing me to your family? Not even your friends? I can’t even tell my own family because you don’t want me to. I feel like your dirty little secret.”

“That’s not entirely true. Daniel knows. He knows you because I’ve told him about you.”

Your eyebrows were knitted from confusion. “How am I just knowing about this now?”

“It’s not important. I drunkenly told him one time but I warned him not to tell you or anyone what he knew.”

“Why? All this time I could’ve talked to him about us…”

“Why would you even want to talk to him?” he asked, a hint of jealousy evident in his voice.

“You don’t get it. I feel lonely, Max. It would’ve been nice if I had someone to talk to about our relationship. It gets tiring lying to my friends and family and declining their invitations when they want to go out and find me someone to date.”

“I swear I’ll eventually introduce you to everyone. Just not right now.”

“Max… I don’t know,” you told him. “I can’t keep waiting anymore. I don’t want to.”

“Y/N, please…”

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Max.”

“Y/N…”

“Leave,” you opened the door for him.

He looked at you once more, hoping you’ll change your mind. But when you stared at the door instead of him, he obliged.

A month passed, and Max never texted or called you again. You knew you should be thankful. This was what you wanted, right? You told him to leave. And that’s what he did. He left.

And now here you were, sitting alone with your stupid pride as you stared at your phone. You went through the photographs, selecting every photo you had of him just to delete it.

You remembered the pain of leaving, the longing to see Max once more, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different now.

You remembered seeing him again and the pain of telling him to leave. How he pulled your heartstrings to try and make you stay with him, and the way his eyes glistened with hurt and regret.

But then you also remembered that his resolution was to wait.

Max Verstappen was many things, but when it came to you, sure was not one of them.

Time was not stopping anytime soon. You weren’t getting younger. You deserved to be with someone who was sure. Someone who knew what he was doing.

But still.

There was always a ‘but’ and a ‘still’.

He had a hold on you.

And up until now, the hold was strong, never losing its grip.

You kept going back over the things you both said, recalling the slamming doors and all the things that you misread.

Looking back, you knew you were the one who told him it was over, but you only did that because you were so mad. If he really knew everything about you, then why couldn’t he see that you wanted him to chase after you?

He came back one time, tried to convince you for one time. Was that all of it?

You stood up, walking towards the window just to stare at the concrete road. You imagined Max standing right there, coming back to ask you to stay with him again.

You wanted him to stand outside your window, throwing pebbles at it to get your attention. And then you imagined him screaming how much he loved you, although that would probably never happen because, again, he was a private person. He couldn’t even introduce you to his family, how in the world could he scream he loved you outside your place where there was no doubt other people would hear him?

Droplets of rain covered the window. It started raining.

You wanted him to be outside, to wait there in the pouring rain because he came back for more.

For more moments with you.

For more time with you.

For more you.

And if he did come back, you knew you wouldn’t want him to leave again.

Because if you looked closer, you might’ve been the one who told him to leave, but all you really wanted was him.

If only he tried a bit more like what you expected him to do. If only he pushed a bit more, begged a bit more, and fought a bit more. If he asked you to stay with him again, you would’ve said yes.

If only what you needed was at the other side of your door. With his face and his beautiful eyes, bearing a conversation with the little white lies. And then the night would beautifully fade like an old picture because you were with him.

You broke down crying. Was it your fault because you couldn’t wait more like what he wanted you to do? Was it worth this mess?

After everything, you must confess… you needed him.

But he wasn’t here anymore. He wasn’t coming back.

So, you wiped your tears and looked away from the window you were staring through. You glanced at the clock you had in your room, sighing as you realized it was already past 11 p.m. and here you were breaking down over someone who kept you like a secret. The worst part was, you couldn’t talk about this to someone because no one else knew—just you, Max, and Daniel Ricciardo who you didn’t even know that much personally.

You grabbed your phone from your bed, eyes widening when you looked at the unread notification.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

message me or comment down below if you want to be added to my taglist! specify if you want to be added to my main (slytherheign) taglist where i’ll tag you in everything i publish in the future or just the formula one taglist.

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columboscreens · 2 months

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#columbo #season 5 #forgotten lady #number one sign of cognitive fitness. being completely unable to distinguish fiction from reality #grace honey eating spinach wont give you huge arms. popeye was a cartoon

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h0ney-fiction · 18 days

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Late Night Drive

masterlist

Synopsis: Mya goes on a late-night drive with MJF

Word Count: 1,405

A/N: Something quick and dirty to ease back into the swing of things ;)

It was a late night and I found myself stuck in the studio. This place was my home for the past two weeks as I worked on my first album. I was excited at all the progress my producer and I have been making but there was still a lot of work to be done.

I was taking a break from writing a song when my phone vibrated.

‘What are you up to?’

It was from Max. We attended the same high school but hung out with vastly different people. Years later, we matched on Raya about a month ago and have been sexting and flirting since.

I smiled at his message. We went on a “date” less than a week ago and I’ve been looking forward to our next encounter.

‘Taking a break from the studio,’ I replied.

Almost instantaneously, he replied.

‘Wanna take a break and grab some food?’

‘You’re speaking my language.’

I shared the address of the studio and within 20 minutes Max pulled up in a dark-colored SUV.

I walked outside, my stomach rumbling in anticipation of food.

“Mya!” He smiled as I climbed into the passenger seat. He kissed my cheek as I buckled in. I blushed in response.

Max looked even more handsome than I remembered. He was dressed casually in a long-sleeved grey henley, black sweats, and a pair of Air Force Ones. He had a hoodie in the backseat.

"Hungry?"

"Starving!" I said as I looked over at him.

As he drove, he and I caught up.

"I've been working on this song tonight. I think it has a lot of potential." I shared as we pulled up to a stop light.

"What kind of vibe?"

"Slow, sexy, sensual."

"Oh, yeah?" His eyebrows raised, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Yeah. You want to hear it?"

He nodded and I pulled out my phone and found the song.

As it started to play, he listened intently.

The track started slow, a guitar playing an erotic riff. The bass and drums come in to back it up as my voice begins to fill the car.

"Oh, that's sexy."

I looked at him and smiled. "Right? I love the beat. It's so sensual. But I can't get the words right."

I only recorded the first verse and the skeleton of a chorus as the rest of the beat fills out. As the beat climaxes and then fades, we pull into the drive-thru of Five Guys.

"What do you want?"

I told him and he placed our order.

Once he got the food, Max continued to drive.

"Where are we going?"

"I figured we could watch the airplanes as we eat. It's nice tonight."

"Yeah. That's perfect. Thank you."

"Of course."

We ate in comfortable silence as we watched the planes take off and land.

"So tell me about your day."

"Nothing exciting. Woke up, worked out, had some meetings then physical therapy."

I nodded. When we first matched, Max told me he was homebound due to a shoulder injury.

"I have an appointment at the performance center tomorrow. I'm nervous about it."

"Why are you nervous?"

"Just not feeling the best, that's all. I'm hoping I can go back to work soon."

"I know you miss the road," I said recalling our conversations about him being a wrestler.

"I do. It's my second home. What about you? How long will you be here before you go on tour?"

"I leave for the UK next week."

"Oh, really?"

"Just a small trip through England and maybe a stop in Belfast if all things go well."

"Woah. Look at you." He said and I couldn't help but sense pride in his voice.

"Thank you." I blushed.

"I hope it's all that you dream of."

"Me too."

Max smiled and I melted a little bit.

"You are so gorgeous."

"You're just flattering me now," my cheeks burn from his attention.

"Maybe. But it's the truth."

Max reached his hand out to push some hair behind my ear. My skin tingled from the contact and I looked into his eyes.

His gaze shifted down to my lips and before I could react, his lips were on mine. My hands went to his face, my fingers grazing the stubble that was there.

Max's kisses were tender but his hands were firm, gripping my hip as he pulled me closer.

I was breathless as our kisses slowed and Max rested his forehead on mine. It wasn't until we pulled away that I could feel the gear on my abdomen.

"Sorry," he let out a light laugh.

"You're just so sexy to me."

Instinctively, I climbed into the back seat of his car.

"Come here."

With no hesitation, he climbed into the back. It was past 1 AM as clouds hung over the already dark sky. Max parked away from other cars under a tree, making his dark car almost invisible.

Our lips found each other's once again. I ran my fingers through his hair and down his chest. His hands were everywhere as his lips trailed from my lips to my neck.

I let out a moan when his tongue brushed against my skin, his fingers teasing the hem of my leggings.

He looked at me and I nodded as he slipped his hand into my leggings and into my underwear. I gasped as his finger stroked my clit.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You're so wet."

His fingers continued to circle around the sensitive bud as he sucked on my neck. My breath began to hitch at his touch.

Max smirked and his fingers dipped lower and pushed into me.

"Oh my god," I moaned as his fingers curled inside of me.

"I could listen to you all night."

Max's pace quickened and I grabbed his wrist as I reached my climax. I felt the tension release throughout my body as I moaned loudly.

Max kissed me once more, his hands now resting on my hips.

I deepened the kiss, leaning my body weight onto him until I was straddling him. I ground against him, feeling his erection grow.

I moved my hips, grinding against his length. He groaned, his grip on my waist tightening.

"Shit, baby," he moaned.

"You like that?"

"I can think of something better."

He grabs my waist and pins me down, my back hitting the seat.

I giggle as he pulls my leggings and thong down to my ankles.

"So beautiful," he says.

Max kissed my inner thigh, trailing kisses until he reached my sweetness. His lips pressed against me and my head rolled back as his tongue circled my clit.

He moaned as he devoured me. My moans grew louder and louder as his pace quickened. I came undone under him, my hands in his hair. When he felt like it was enough, Max came up for air.

I was a mess and Max's lips were glistening from my cum.

He pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock and positioned himself between my legs.

I bit my lip as I reached and stroked him. He moaned and rubbed the tip of his cock along my pussy before pulling out a condom from his hoodie.

I watched in anticipation as he inserted himself inside me, my body stretched around him in pleasure.

"Fuck."

His thrusts were slow and deep as he kissed me. My hands ran up and down his back as my legs were wrapped around his waist, allowing him to go deeper inside me.

His pace quickened and our kisses were messy. Every inch of my body gave into him.

I arched my back and moaned as his hands cupped my ass.

"That's it," Max growled in my ear as he felt me tighten around him.

My nails scratched down his back and I was close to my peak. I moved my hips towards him, creating our own rhythm not caring about anything beyond the backseat.

I pressed my hands on his chest, motioning him to sit up as I straddled him again. I could hear my wetness slap against him with each thrust. His hands reached up to my breast and rubbed against my nipples, sending my body into a sensory overload.

With one final thrust, I came undone, screaming his name. Max continued his pace, his grunts filling the air until he finally climaxed.

I collapsed into his chest, his hands stroking my back. We listened to the hum of the planes, forgetting we were in his car.

"Come home with me?"

"Yes, please."

#mjf #mjf smut #honey fiction #aew smut #aew fanfiction

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favficbirthdays · 2 months

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Happy Birthday

Mitsukuni ''Honey'' Haninozuka (29th February)

Ouran High School Host Club

#ouran high school host club #ouran host club #ouran #ohshc #ouran honey #ohshc honey #mitsukuni haninozuka #fictional birthday #february #february 29th

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jfksbrainmatter · 1 month

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how’s mama? ;)

adam driver x reader

genre : fluff 🧸

summary : you are laying in bed, heavily pregnant and sleeping. your husband, adam driver, wakes you after he came home from work and accidentally reminds you of your pregnancy and impending due date. freaking you out.

author note : this based on a really cute tiktok i saw bc i couldn’t stop thinking about it 😓

content warning : pregnancy, talk of birth, anxiety, age gap (reader is like mid 20’s-early 30’s and adam is late 40’s) and reader cries (for like a sec bc hormones)

warm, kind hands stroking your arm wake you up. your eyes flutter open as you shift in bed, smiling as you notice adam kissing your forehead. “mmmmm..hi baby~” you mewl, shifting to turn toward him, leaning up to kiss him.

“hi sweetheart..” adam leans down and meets you halfway in the kiss, stroking back your hair. “how’s mama doin’ ..?” you furrow your brows and tilt your head, confused til you look down. your lips quiver as you remember the impending child in your belly. eyes filling with tears, you look back up at adam, seeing his small frown.

“what’s wrong lovey..?” he asks with concern. everything, you wanna say. but you don’t. you sniffle and blink back the tears, “m’having a baby…” you whimper. adam smiles in amusement at your shaky voice.

“yeah you are hun..” he strokes your cheek to calm you down. you shake your head and whine, cupping your bump as you remember all the weight and life inside you. your grogginess is gone. replaced with anxiety and…fear..?

you don’t know but what you do know is that you’re crying freely now. adam lies next to you and cradles your bump with you, kissing your cheek and holding your head to his chest.

“shhhh..babygirl calm down, you’re gonna be okay…you’re alright, just breathe..” adam coos, calming you down. he’s very good at calming you down most times but the tears won’t stop flowing. damn hormones. you pull back and whine, wiping your eyes and rubbing them tiredly.

“a-adam i- i can’t give birth i can’t…what if i go into labor without you here? what if- what if i go into labor early?? i- im scared adam.” you whimper, sniffling and hiding into him. suddenly you stop, breathing slowly as you feel your baby stir, getting more settled. adam kisses you softly to stop your rambling, wiping your tears away softly.

“you will be ready my love. i will be there and- and you are so prepared honeybun...you have the nursery ready, all the baby clothes and the books and toys~” he smiles and laughs softly, rubbing your bump. he slides further down the bed to wrap his arms around your waist, listening and feeling for kicks from the baby. “i’m ready. i feel like you are too, almost.” he smiles and kisses your bump as the baby kicks against his lips, his laughs rumbling through the room.

you crack a smile at his happy laugh, stroking a hand through his hair as the baby kicks against their daddy’s hand. “i think they missed you.” you wipe your tears and sigh, calming down into your husband’s embrace.

he smiles giddily and lays his head against the bump, closing his eyes in content happiness. he loves his tiny family. “do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl..?” he asks, excited about a baby either way.

“mmmm i don’t care..as long as they’re healthy.” you whisper in response, kissing adam’s hair. he sighs and sinks into you, exhaustion finally sinking into him from his long work day.

“what do you want for dinner tonight baby..?” he asks, having taken over the responsibility of dinner. he’s staring at your large bump as he speaks, almost like he’s talking to the little human in you.

“mmmm…i think they want your ‘world famous’ burgers~ and fries…and a chocolate milkshake from that one place-!!” you speak excitedly, the craving coming on quickly from the baby in your uterus (who needs to pay rent by now).

“then that’s what mama’s gonna get.” he smiles and stands, walking to the kitchen to make his delicious food for his very, very pregnant wife.

#adamdriver #pregnant!reader #pregnancy #smut #imagines #fiction #reader insert #fanfic #xpregnant!reader #adam driver x pregnant!reader #adam driver x reader #fluff #honey🍒

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littlemisslipbalm · 9 months

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August, honey, you were mine

Josh Kiszka x Fem!reader - Enemies to Lovers College!AU

When originally deciding to be a film and visual arts student, Y/N had thought her biggest issue would be getting a job after college. She hadn’t known that the other people in her major would actually be her greatest obstacle to completing her degree.

So this photo is insane and likely not accurate to the time that this would be set. However, IDC and he looks beautiful.

Separately, here is my College!AU Enemies to Lovers Josh fic... I started working on this over a year ago and really it's silly because I lost the feeling that I wanted him to be mean so maybe it loses steam, idk let me know what yall think pls and reblogs appreciated - lots of love xoxo etc. more to come.

Summary: Forced together by fate or maybe just scheduling, Josh and Y/N can't stand being in the same room together. Unfortunately, with classes and her shifts at the Lover's Inn, it seems that Josh is in her life more than ever. Can hate turn into love or has something been there since the beginning?

Word Count: 13 k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, enemies to lovers, nauseating fluff, SMUT 18+ (specifics below the cut)

oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, edging, mild? dirty talk, female masturbation, i think that's it!

It wasn’t that everyone was annoying. Sure, film students could be a lot, especially for Y/N when she was planning on going into costuming and styling rather than other production aspects. There were just a few overzealous students who seemed to get under her skin more than others.

Namely, Josh M. Kiszka. He was talented in many respects, begrudgingly she would admit that. However, his annoyances and shortcomings outweighed his talents tenfold. One spark of genius would cause ten pitfalls and plot holes, leaving a forest fire of destruction in his wake.

His curly hair was disturbingly trimmed leaving a small rat tail at the nape of his neck for the majority of the time she had known him –at the beginning of this year he had finally cut it and seemed to be trying to grow it out but she didn’t care. He was absurd and even disturbing at times. His smile took up too much of his face when he grinned maniacally. And she could go on.

Now, being in the same major as someone could be irritating at times, but in reality sharing one to two classes a semester shouldn’t be the end of the world. Sometimes it certainly felt like it with Josh since it seemed like he turned everything up to an 11 on purpose. A bursting zipper was a catastrophe, the wrong colored shirt was the work of the devil. But realistically, she only should’ve seen him at most eight hours out of her week – if she could avoid being paired with him for any group projects. She could do eight hours of him droning on about the intricacies of a film and chattering away about his new big idea.

What she couldn’t do was essentially work for him. And she didn’t work for him. At all. But he certainly seemed to think so every Thursday night.

The first time Josh Kiszka walked into the green room at Lover’s Inn, the college town's local venue made for serious music and serious drinking, while Y/N was working, she thought it was some sick joke. She chalked it up to the fact that her karma must be god awful and this was her cosmic punishment.

She had worked there for two years before this, consistently doing backstage work happily for the experience of potentially helping musicians with costuming and styling if they ever took her up on her offer. Mostly, her job consisted of fulfilling riders and babysitting.

On this fated Thursday, it was raining as the fading summer quickly turned into a blustery fall. The trees faded quickly, changing just as fast as they had blossomed. The biting cold of the rain had soaked her hair so when she burst through the stage right door, a spray of rain flew from her head as she gasped in the warm room temperature air.

First rain made people drive terribly, making her later than she would’ve liked to set up the things requested by the band tonight. She was slightly bummed that because she was rushing, she might not have a chance to offer her assistance with styling of the new band, but she thought she’d just ask to help them out at a later date since her manager had told her that if they played well tonight they were going to get the recurring Thursday night spot.

Greta Van Fleet was their name, which she thought was cool, but given their rider, she had a funny feeling that they were probably like most local Michigan bands, mediocre at best, creeps at worst.

The two cases of beers as well as some strange hippie bullshit snacks gave her the inkling of what to expect.

The moment she hears her name from a particular voice, a pit of dread opens up in her stomach. She didn’t know exactly why he was here but she knew instantly that tonight was going to be a long, long night. She finished straightening out the tea corner the band had requested and swiveled around to face the curly-haired bastard. The stupid smirk was already on his lips and his eyes were full of the tell-tale mischief that came with Josh.

“You got a crush on me or something?” He quirks his head with a raise of his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

Josh knew she didn’t have a crush on him. Quite the opposite of it, but he loved to see her get furious with him. It brought him insurmountable joy.

“Never in your most self-serving, indulgent fantasies,” She seethes and juts a hip and folds her arms across her chest, taking on a defensive stance immediately. “I work here, Josh. What are you doing here?”

He grins, taking a few more steps into the room before pausing and looking around for a moment. His eyes cast around the worn leather couches, the two rugs mismatched and covering one another, a circular coffee table that had clearly seen too much cocaine in its heyday, and the table filled with snacks and drinks perfectly placed for his band’s amusement, before returning to his classmate staring at him with an appalled but also concerned face.

“Work, of sorts,” He shrugs, the smile never leaving his face. “Moreso play.”

She rolls her eyes but feels her breath hitch as Josh crosses the room further, coming extremely close to her. Her eyes widen as he continues to smile at her with an innocence she knew was an act. It doesn’t leave his intensely sculpted face that was unseasonably tanned for Michigan, even if summer had just ended. His hand reaches out to the right of her frame and plucks a fruit snack pack from the basket she had placed them in five minutes prior.

“Those are for–”

“The band?” He asks, his head cocked to the side once more, after finishing tearing the bag open with nimble fingers. “Thanks, by the way, lover. You got my favorite brand.”

The pure joy Josh had just found in seeing her face contort in disgust at the nickname he had just come up with meant it wasn’t going away anytime soon. He thought he was clever for calling her something inaccurate yet also fitting since her place of work was called Lover’s Inn. In his eyes, it was perfect.

“You’re not…” She trails off seeing the delight in Josh’s features.

He nods, not taking a step back from her personal space and popping an organic fruit snack into his smug mouth. “I am. The lead singer, actually.”

She turns back around to remove herself from the close proximity of Josh. “You’re just bullshitting me,” She mutters, shaking her head, refusing to believe him despite her knowing realistically, it was likely true.

“No –” His next thought, likely one to continue his aggravating crusade, was cut off by someone else’s voice.

“Josh, y’know you could help with the drum kit, like you’re supposed to,” A younger man with long flowing locks complains as he carries in two bass cases. His hair was damp, but drying, signifying the rain was subsiding. Josh’s hair had given no indication of the weather due to the drying but jarringly yellow umbrella that lay abandoned by the door.

Once the cases are carefully set down in a corner of the room, he realizes that Josh was not alone. He uses a hand to flip his long hair back from his face and regards the other person in the room, coming to Josh’s side.

“Hey,” He sticks the same hand out and has a goofily familiar grin on his face. “I’m Sam.”

She takes his hand, telling him her name while giving his hand a shake before letting go rather quickly, she was confused.

“You’re in the band,” She confirms to Sam, who nods affirmatively. “And Josh is in it too?” She asks more skeptically.

“Sure is,” Sam looks at Josh quickly before smiling again, like an all knowing fox. “He likes to act like we’re already famous and don’t have to load our own equipment, but we’ll be lucky to score this gig, Ja–”

“Okay, Sammy,” Josh cuts the younger boy off. “I’ll come out and help, just, shut the hell up.”

Y/N quirks her head as she watches them shuffle back out of the same door she had come through twenty minutes prior, watching the way they interact with one another. She goes back to finishing up the table. It looked fine, but she still felt the need to turn all of the fruit snacks so that they were facing forward and make sure the extras of things she had bought were clearly accessible.

Another younger guy with curlier hair walked in while she was still fussing over the table, a part of a drum kit on his back and a drawstring backpack in his hand.

“I’m Danny,” He introduces quickly after shuffling off the large equipment bag and placing it on the outside of the green room door that leads to the rest of the venue. “Drummer.”

She nods and introduces herself once more, directing him to the table of the fulfilled rider items and that she was around to answer any questions that weren’t specifically technical. Her job, after fulfilling the rider, was handling the band before and after they performed, essentially. She attempted to make that more styling and costume related, but in reality she just was there to make sure no one got too hammered before going out on the stage and no one passed out in the green room afterwards. It was a small venue and therefore a small crew but thankfully, she didn’t have to worry about the instruments as well. Just the people.

When Josh returned to the room through the side door, she was still waiting at the entrance. Her body leaned against the inner frame of the door. It was shut to keep the noise of the rest of the venue out of here, and vice versa. She didn’t want to be in the room any longer than she had to be, but she needed to check off with the entirety of the band. It was to ensure that all of them were here prior to their set and to check in with them about anything else they might need. Now that she knew Josh was in the band, she really wished she could just leave. She certainly was not going to ask about styling, she already had her allotment of fighting over clothing with Josh for the week in class on Tuesday.

The surprising thing about Josh’s arrival is the second copy of him that appears behind him. Like the first stranger, he had long stringy brown hair and slopey dark brown eyes. Unlike Sam, however, he was literally identical to Josh. One realization came to her silently, Sam was Josh’s little brother, that’s why his grin had been so unnervingly familiar.

This man, just two steps behind Josh, though, he was more than familiar. He was the spitting image of Josh except for his hair.

She can’t stop this realization from being audible. As the two of them stand practically side by side as they converse with one another, seeming to almost mirror one another, she blurts out words before she can think twice.

“Twins!” Her voice sounds overjoyed at the realization that they were identical. There was a hopeful glinting look in her eyes as her hands clasp in front of her and she smiles. The fact that Josh was a pain in her ass is forgotten for a moment because she finds it so interesting and unbelievable that identical twins were standing before her and that she had known one all along without knowing it.

Josh stops speaking mid-sentence to regard her and he’s surprised by her reaction. The twin looks perplexed as well with a raised left eyebrow. She is wowed once more.

Josh says her name and hands Danny the rest of his drum kit. “This is my other brother, Jake.”

“And you’re twins? Identical?” She repeats after Jake waves.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Josh throws his hands up in a theatric flourish adding to the condescending tone.

Jake replies far more cordially. “What Josh means to say is, yes we are identical twins. Thanks for noticing.”

“I’m sorry,” She back tracks, remembering the situation and laughing, still feeling off-kilter. “I’ve known Josh for two unbelievably long years and he’s never mentioned once that he has an identical twin brother that he’s in a band with – and he talks enough for it to have come up at least once.”

Josh rolls his eyes with a huff of breath, deciding that he wants to continue helping with their equipment and belongings rather than listen to what he was sure was about to turn into a ‘shit on Josh’ situation.

Jake’s laughter is loud and unadulterated as he crosses the room towards Y/N with the same smile his brothers had, except his didn’t make her want to wring his neck. “He’s always talked too much, I can asure you that. What makes you clearly an unwilling acquaintance of his?”

The grin on her face feels like it’s taking up the entire room. Already, Josh’s twin was leaps and bounds ahead of him in terms of how much she wanted to be around this person. She also liked his hair, it was long and pretty, maybe it needed a good shampoo and condition but it didn’t have a rat tail, which was the biggest plus in her book. When Josh had returned this school year without it, she had rejoiced but also been slightly dismayed that she hadn’t had the satisfaction of snipping it off herself. On several occasions, she remembered waking up with a triumphant smile after cutting it off in some of her more vivid dreams. She wasn’t completely sure if she could be trusted with scissors around Josh so maybe it was better in the end.

“We’re the same major, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” Jake’s voice holds deep understanding. “I’m sure that can be a lot. I used to help out on his films when we were in high school, so I know he’s…passionate.”

She snorts and shakes her head, acknowledging what he had said before once again remembering she was working. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.” She casts her eyes around the room and sees that the four guys are all in the room. Josh had returned and was trying and failing to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping on her and Jake’s conversation. “Anyways, now that I know you’re all here, I can leave you be. Just let me know if there’s anything you need before your set. The techs will come in around,” She pauses looking at her watch. “7:00 to have y’all go set up and go over that kind of stuff. You need to be out on that stage at 8, no if’s, and’s or but’s. Also, if you do get the recurring slot, I’d love to help y’all with styling if you’d be interested since that’s more my expertise.”

She hears Josh snort at her last sentence but she pointedly ignores it, only looking at the other three band members.

“How do we find you if we need something?” Sam asks, settling into the darkest brown leather couch like a lanky puppy, all limbs and no idea how to control them gracefully.

“I, uh,” She stops, realizing she normally handed out her phone number since she hated the radios they were supposed to use. For some reason, giving her number to Josh’s band made her uneasy and then she remembered with a sigh. “Josh has my number from previous group projects, assuming he knows how to use his phone he should be able to give it to you.”

“What’s your number again?”

“You don’t have me saved?” She’s exasperated to say the least and a little offended otherwise. They had quite literally been paired in a duo group project their first week of college, two years ago. If he hadn’t saved her number after all this time, she’s sure she would strangle him.

“I think I do,” He looks down at his phone, scrolling through something, “just double checking something.”

“Give me your phone,” She rolls her eyes and places the palm of her hand out waiting for the weight of Josh’s phone to be felt. She types in her number into the search bar of his contacts. The names dwindle until only ‘August’ pops up. She finishes typing the entire number and the name ‘August’ is still staring back at her on the screen. She looks between the phone and Josh a few times before clicking the name and verifying that it was her phone number.

“Why the fuck do you have me as ‘August’ in your phone?”

Josh grins triumphant and satisfied. When she glares at him, he shrugs and plucks the phone back from her grasp. “We met in August, I didn’t remember your name from class and I didn’t bother to ask. By the time I knew it, I couldn’t be bothered to change it.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Is Lover better or worse than August? Because I’m willing to change it to that,” He continues looking at her with that wolfish look in his eye.

“I fucking hate you.” She says with a shake of her head before addressing the rest of the room again. “Well, if any of you three need me, don’t hesitate to find me down the hall or get my number from the gremlin that fronts your band and shoot me a text. Josh, do not bother me.”

“Only in my dreams, I know, lover.” Josh mimics being shot by an arrow in his heart and stumbles back before winking evilly at her.

“Right,” She sighs heavily and tries to smile lightly at the other three who offer her sympathetic smiles back. “I’ll be back at 7:45 if no one needs me before then.”

A chorus of thanks follows her out the door and she ignores Josh’s voice again as she goes. It’s pitched up and honeyed sweet and it makes her sick.

That was the first night. They had been good. Josh’s voice was surprisingly amazing and the rest of them were talented with their instruments. Jake was especially good on the guitar. She tried to focus on the instruments rather than Josh’s voice but it was almost impossible to listen to just one piece of their music, they all complemented each other so well. Even Josh’s voice didn’t overpower but finished the rest of the music being made.

They had also been clean and on time. Two things her manager liked even more than a good sounding band that amassed a crowd was a good sounding band that didn’t require a lot of assistance or cleaning up after. Greta Van Fleet secured the recurring Thursday night gig at Lover’s Inn. Which ensured that she got to endure more Josh Kiszka in her life than ever before.

They would fight in class and bicker during group projects that they got paired for and then to end her week just perfectly, she’d have Josh at her place of work, continuing to push her buttons and attempting to boss her around.

He delighted in calling her ‘Lover’ and being a nuisance when she was trying to help one of his bandmates. He always had issues with the vests and belts she found for him, despite them being exactly what he asked for, if not better. And he always, always had that stupid smug smirk on his face when he was around her.

In the middle of the semester, the film and visual arts third years were assigned a very intensive project. It could be alone or in groups but you had to do it all if you did it alone. As luck would have it or maybe it was just a cruel joke being played on her by the rest of the department, she and Josh were the only two not paired up who didn’t want to work alone. She contemplated doing it all on her own, but she knew she wasn’t the strongest writer and with the rest of her classes and the Lover’s Inn gig keeping her busy, she had to swallow her pride. Bite the bullet that was Josh Kiszka now entering another part of her life: her life away from both school and work.

They had looked at one another with dismay in their eyes. Even Josh couldn’t spin this as a way to torture her, this was genuinely not his ideal scenario for an important project either. They departed class on Wednesday with a sighing compromise that they would talk about it after the gig on Thursday.

On Thursday, Josh arrived first out of his band mates to the green room. She was there, finishing up unloading the grocery bags and double checking the cleanliness of the room. Even if Josh was a pain in her ass, she didn’t let her negative feelings for him change how she did her job.

“Well if it isn’t my number one fan, lover!” Josh greets, resting his backpack at the edge of the couch closest to the side stage door.

She sighed. She rejoiced on the Thursdays when it was one of the others to stroll through the door first, so that she wouldn’t have to be alone with Josh anymore for the week. Bringing herself to face him was hard, she had already seen enough of him this week and after the big announcement in class yesterday, she really could do without hearing his voice.

“I know you’ve probably heard this a lot before, so you should understand when I say ‘not in the mood’.”

“Oh lover, you wound me,” He gives her moon eyes before he rolls his eyes and walks around the room, continuing to place his stuff where he liked. The band had been working here for two months now and each of them had gotten into a groove. They had their spots and corners that they liked to chill in until it was time to get to work.

“Do you want your clothes or not?” She leans into her hip as she stares at him expectantly, waiting for him to stop messing around with the throw blanket’s tassels.

“I’d certainly go out and perform naked, I’m sure lots of people would thank you for your brilliant idea. Me in my true glory.”

She scoffs and crosses to her tote bag, dropped by the entrance. She shuffles through it for Josh’s new vest and the belt she found that matched it perfectly. The vest was tan with gold embellishments and looked like it would fit his small frame. The belt was also encrusted with gold broqaue and turquoise stones with a loud engraved buckle to finish it off.

With the pieces in hand, she crossed to his seat on the couch. Josh had his legs spread in a way that required her to stand between them or else she would have to lean awkwardly forward to give the clothes to him. She hated even the way he sat, making her life harder. He reclined back on the couch with his arms over the back of it, the light blue ratty t-shirt he wore stretched and strained over his biceps the way he was sitting. Her eye flickered to it for a split second in mild surprise, obviously he showed them off in the vests, but they seemed to bulge in their current state.

“Lay it on me, lover,” He grins lazily up at her, one hand flipping up right and motioning for her to give it to him.

She shakes her head at him and drops them carelessly on his lap. The belt was heavy enough for him to make a groaning sound. Normally she would walk out of the room at this point, just to get a little bit of time away from Josh. The rest of the band was reliable and she knew they’d all have arrived in the next ten minutes. However, something about Josh’s demeanor made her pause. It was something in the way his eyes looked.

Normally they were wide and bright with evil intentions. Today they still looked mischievous but a little more droopy, his movements a little less agile. She stares at his face, searching for the answer and noticing the way he just lets her.

“Finally decided you want some of this action, lover?” Josh mumbles, eyes fluttering closed as he lays his head back against the couch. “Stopped denying your true feelings…”

She crouches down to be on the same level as Josh, her face getting close to his as she inspects him closely. One of her hands goes to his eyelid, as she leans over him, opening his eye manually.

“Are you fucking stoned, right now?”

He swats her hand away from him and sits back up, pushing her back so that she’s still crouched between his legs. His face looms above hers, the lazy grin still visible on his face, as she stares up at him. Their faces are an inch apart and the space is hot in the already warm room. Her eyes widened expectantly.

“Shh, don’t tell August, she’ll yell at me.”

“I am…” She pauses, realizing Josh was still fucking with her. She puts a hand to his chest and pushes him back against the couch, causing laughter to bubble from his lips. “Fuck you, Josh.” She states, standing up again and stalking out of the room with a final. “Weed better not fuck up your singing, asshole.”

“Thanks for the vest, lover!”

Besides strutting around the stage a bit more sluttily and carrying notes just a tad bit longer than necessary, high Josh functioned about the same as regular Josh. After the show, the band loaded up their gear once more in the back of Danny’s van that they lovingly all called the Greta Van. Normally, Josh would hitch a ride home with him and Sam or hang around the front of house getting sloshed with his twin. Tonight, he begrudgingly sulked around the green room, informing his brothers that he ‘had a meeting with the bosslady.’

August had overheard it and rolled her eyes. “We’re unfortunately partnered for an extremely important project. I’m worried I made the wrong choice and should’ve just gone it alone.”

She grimaced as Jake wished her luck while Sammy and Dan gave her sympathetic gazes, mumbling their condolences.

“It can only be as bad as we make it, lover.” Josh huffed, resuming his seat from earlier on the larger of the leather couches.

“Are you sober enough for us to begin planning now?” She glared and folded a leg behind her to take a seat on the far end of the same couch.

Josh scoffed with a flip of his hand. “Oh c’mon it was just a couple bowls before going on to perform art.” Josh trailed off, mumbling as he stared around the room.

“Repeat that?” She urged.

“It’s not like it was the first time,” He repeated louder but still softly.

She groaned. “God, Josh.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Y’know what? Fuck if I care. Let’s just get our plan laid out so we can go home.”

Josh nodded curtly. Her eyes flickered to his face in surprise that he didn’t protest.

“Okay,” She started, speaking cautiously. “I’ll obviously take the lead on costuming and you on writing, but we’ll need to collaborate on directing and creative direction. Do you have any ideas for stories you want to tell?”

Josh hummed, head falling to the back of the couch in contemplation. “Cults, a modern Greek tragedy, a bar comedy –we could set it right here, erh star-crossed lovers? What about you or are you just gonna keep all your ideas to yourself?”

“I was waiting to see if you had any worthwhile ideas.” She shrugged, scribbling something down on a notepad Josh hadn’t seen her produce. “The modern take on a Greek tragedy could be interesting…”

“I also was thinking about something similar with a modern take on a classic film like ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ or something to that extent. I like the idea of a post-college existential crisis coming of age female lead type story but I doubt you’d care for that.”

“No, no, no,” Josh sat up straight. “Don’t put your assumed misogyny on me! I’d love to do a female lead coming of age post-college existential crisis story! How dare you?”

She smiled at her page and then up at Josh. “My mistake.”

Their eyes met and the room felt eerily quiet with both of their mouths shut for once. The dingy yellow lights bathed the room in a homey glow. The worn leather was warm beneath their skin, inviting them to settle in.

Then simultaneously, they said: “Modern take of a Greek tragedy that is a coming of age post-college female lead story!”

“Fuck yes!” Y/N rose onto her knees in excitment as Josh’s entire face lit up, leaning forward in excitement.

“Let’s fucking go!”

They laughed and high fived, feeling an unexpected and unknown emotion of shared understanding and initial accomplishment. They talked plot, characters and logline, the main bones of the project they needed to get started on and split up what each of them would flesh out for their next meeting. It was decided that it would be best to meet after class on Wednesdays rather than Thursdays after shows just so that they didn’t have to hang around Lover’s Inn when it was just the locals in the front of the house and so that Jake didn’t get too lonely when he wanted to drink himself under the bar.

Josh felt a weird inclination to walk her to her car that night. He knew which car was hers, he always looked for it in the parking lot when he would pull up on Thursdays – a 90s classic black Volvo sedan with a dreamcatcher hanging on the rearview mirror.

She had regarded Josh oddly when he insisted on walking her over to the car even though the parking lot was empty with plenty of light. Then she noticed again that the lot was empty beside her car and the bartender’s, who was still working.

“Where’s your car?”

Josh kicked at a pebble with his sneaker and shrugged his shoulders with his hands stuffed in his khakis pockets.

She frowned remembering his high state earlier today. At least he was somewhat responsible, but with no foresight. “Did you want a ride?”

“Nah.” He shook his head vehemently. “I walked in, I can walk out.”

“Yeah,” She agreed. “But it’s dark out now.”

“It was dark out earlier.” He reasoned with his usual smirk trying to win his way out of this one.

“Not this dark, not this cold,” She insisted, pushing his shoulder to move towards the passenger’s side door. “And not this late. Get in.”

In the small interior of the Volvo, Josh took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together as she cranked the heat and shivered herself before getting her music playing.

“Thanks,” Josh whispered, grateful.

“Can’t have you dying on me,” She replied. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she was focused on backing up carefully, twisting around and switching gears, and she barely noticed when she finished her sentence under her breath. “For so many reasons.”

In the dark of the car, lit only by the moon and streetlamps around, Josh watched her uninterrupted. She sang under the music she had chosen for the drive. A CD that had already been in the reader of Radiohead.

Josh listened along to the dulcet melancholy voice of Thom Yorke. He likes how she knew all the words but paused every so often to look to Josh for directions.

“Nice house,” she said, turning down the stereo when they arrived.

Josh shrugged, turning his head from her to the classic Michigan two-story with its basic driveway and porch. Dark wood everywhere and an old tree in the front yard. There were warm lights coming from a few windows in the house and it looked like a home.

“It’s fine. Jake, Sammy and I rent it from a family friend so it’s a good deal.”

“That’s nice.” She feels awkward, making small talk with Josh.

It’s the antithesis of their usual relationship of bickering and jabbing and avoiding. It’s soft and casual. Warm and inviting in the familiar seats of her car, with her music. Josh kind of seemed at peace in her car. It was unusual, regarding him looking so quiet and calm.

“Alright.” She breaks the silence.

Josh takes the cue, blinking out of whatever trance was keeping him from taking his leave from her car and getting into his house for the night.

“Night,” he speaks softly. “Thanks for the ride…and, uh, see you Monday, I guess.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, watching him get out of the car, carefully taking his bag and his new vest and belt into his arms.

She waits for him to get inside before driving off. Still unsure of the feeling in her stomach, she blasts the Radiohead a little louder to drown out her speculations.

By the end of November, they were almost through with the filming portion of their project. Yet it was time for a relatively complicated scene. Well, it shouldn’t have been complicated if the weather had been right but unfortunately they were venturing into true winter in Michigan.

Josh and Y/N had settled on the tragedy of Hippolytus after attempting the tragedy of Medea but deciding it was too overdone — how many stories of a woman scorned by a man leaving her could we want? Instead, the twist of Hippolytus in the 21st century would allow for an interesting female lead whose story didn’t start because of a man.

Instead, like Hippolytus, their lead had decided against sex and relationships during college. Josh and Y/N had worried about making it purity porn but decided that they would balance the true story with modernity enough that it would work.

In the Greek tragedy, the woman interested in Hippolytus killed herself after being rejected by him, however that was another place they would depart. Instead, the counter to the lead would be hurt randomly and there would be a need for the lead to help them. This leads her to pursue psychology and therapy—medicine felt too cliche. But she knew she wanted to help people. Their bond eventually grows to love even though it’s not what she intended. However, both the therapy and the relationship help her find meaning to life, bringing her out of the existential crisis that started the story.

So they were filming the scene where the counter, James, was meant to get hurt. The short film was going to be narrated by a modern Aphrodite so some silliness was injected into it. She was interfering with the lead, Hyacinth, in hopes to persuade her to fall into bed with someone.

James lived next door and was washing his car, shirtless, when Hyacinth walked out her front door, about to go to gym—another one of her ideas of how to find purpose in life, pushing her body until it had no energy to think. Jason was meant to have gotten soap all over him from leaning across the hood of the car, like a male fantasy but reversed, and then point the hose towards him and wash it all off sexily. Of course, the student they had cast, weirdly also named James, was attractive but he was an angel and an ex-theater kid, so he couldn’t quite get it right and he was beginning to shiver even though they had the water as warm as possible and were covering him up between every take.

Josh was attempting to hold back laughter but after the third bad take, Y/N yelled ‘cut’ and walked into the scene.

“James, here hand me the handle,” she said.

Taking hold of the metal length at the end of hose that was turned off, she began to instruct James to do exactly what she was showing him. She turned it towards her and held it above her chest with her head tilted back, eyes closed. She sighed for a moment and then briefly moved up as if the water were hitting her face and then ran her free hand against her cheek, allowing her lips to open further and then ran the same hand down the front of her neck, down her chest and her stomach, brushing to the side just as she got to the top of her thighs.

James watched carefully, not phased by the directing. Josh gawked. His eyes almost bugged out of his head watching her and wondering if just maybe that’s what she looked like in a shower. Her soft hands would be running over her soft naked skin instead of her warm winter sweater and jeans, but still. He could imagine. The sudsy soap and bare skin touching the cool tiles and warm water. Fuck. He needed her to never do that again ever.

The last month he had seen more of Y/N than he had ever thought possible. Except now, he looked forward to it without pretending it was because he wanted to bug her. Josh wanted to know what she was thinking about every aspect of their project and he wanted to hear about her weekend and he wanted to kiss her against the walls in the green room when his brothers weren’t there. He didn’t act on the third thing, but he wanted to.

“Josh?” She raised an eyebrow, still holding the hose above her chest. “Josh?” She repeated.

He blinked. “Huh?”

“I asked if you agreed? Does that fit with an Aphrodite induced sexy car wash scene you imagined?”

He smiled weakly and she tilted her head in silent worry. Hopefully Josh wasn’t getting sick.

Of course it is, doesn’t even need a Greek god to intervene and make it hotter, she just was.

“Yeah, yep, fantastic,” Josh rushed. “James, you got it? We’re losing light.”

A cloud was rolling in from the east and Josh knew that if they didn’t finish soon they might get rained out.

James nodded and they ran the scene again. The actor nailed it and after Josh yelled cut, Y/N squealed in accomplishment. They high fived and Josh’s eyes linked on the side of her neck where her fingers had brushed as she had caressed herself minutes ago—professionally.

After that, they wrapped for the day, Josh still concerned about the rain, sending the actors and helpers home. Y/N hung around to help Josh bring his equipment back into his house. They were using the front of it for the scene. On their last trip to grab things from the street, thankfully all non-electronic, the beginning of what would be a long rainstorm began in full force.

This time it was Josh to shriek and Y/N laughed as they ran under the awning of the porch after grabbing everything left as quickly and carefully as possible. It didn’t matter, they were pretty drenched.

She tried to catch her breath from running and laughing while Josh felt his hair with a look of dismay.

“You know you’re stuck here,” Josh grumbled, looking out at the pouring rain. He hated the way she seemed to enjoy his displeasure at being wet.

“As long as you’ve got a spare change of clothes, a hot shower and a gas stove in case the power goes out, I’m fine.” She shrugs, pushing the screen door open and putting her half of Josh’s stuff on the entryway bench.

Josh followed behind with his binder and a few rain-ruined scripts.

“Anyone else home?” She wanders through the hall to the living room, peeling off her sweater and leaving her boots by the wall.

Josh shakes his head, “Probably not, it pisses Jake off when I film at the house and Sam usually goes to Danny’s on the weekend.”

She inspects her jeans and t-shirt before looking at Josh. “I want to shower now, can you find me clothes and put them in the bathroom before I get out?”

“Who made you queen?”

“This isn’t Lover’s Inn, I’m not on the clock and I’m your guest who’s trapped here…feel like you’re supposed to dote on me.”

Josh rolled his eyes, feeling the memory of their feud flickering like an ember in the pit of his stomach. He wants to tease her, say something biting to turn the tables on her. But she was right, they weren’t in any of the situations they were usually in with one another. More uncharted territory.

“You’re annoying,” he offered lamely.

She chuckled and pushed at his shoulder lightly as he passed, assuredly showing her to the bathroom. “Try harder, lover.”

Josh scoffed without turning his head around, but the feeling in his stomach grew as he heard her feet padding behind him. The rain was loud on the tall roof, fast and foreboding. It might’ve been adding to Josh’s unease.

At the end of this new hallway, there were three doors. One to a bedroom, Josh’s, a closet and the bathroom. He opened the closet to grab fresh towels he kept for when he didn’t want to do laundry that week and walked them into the bathroom.

It was surprisingly clean but Josh had his own bathroom, forcing Jake and Sam to share the other one, claiming he was the oldest so he got the most privacy.

She smiled at the tub. “Should I have a soak instead? Do you have any good wine?”

“This is not a fucking hotel,” Josh laughed. He handed her the towels and she gave him a pointed look. “But I’ll open a bottle.”

“Good boy,” She continued to smirk. “Maybe I’ll leave a nice tip.”

Josh pinkened slightly. She’d never been like this before. He felt like he was falling into some world where Aphrodite really was fucking with his life.

15 minutes later, Josh returned to the bathroom where Y/N was showering and pushed the door open. She had music playing but he could hear the water still running.

He walked in and placed the sweatshirt and clean boxers on the counter. Her wet clothes were in a puddle on the floor beside the shower mat and he swallowed. A pretty pink lace thong and a black lacy bra laid atop her top and jeans. He took a breath and went to head for the door, turning away from the clothes. But Y/N’s own breath caught his attention.

Her grunge 90s music was playing from her phone but she was breathing hard and Josh stopped short. His eyes shot to the shower curtain. The place he had been avoiding with all his power. It was sheer. Her silhouette was hard to see but it looked like it was writhing. He saw one of her hands slipping around her chest and he bit his lip. She was certainly squeezing her tits and she was breathing hard and he couldn’t see her other hand.

He put his own hand to his mouth to stop any shocked sounds slipping out. She must have forgotten that he was coming back. When he saw her silhouette drop to the floor of the tub, Josh snapped out of his trance.

He grabbed the clothes and slipped out the door, closing it as quietly as possible just as he heard a breathy ‘fuck’ he would dream about for weeks.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself. Letting his head fall against the now closed door, he took a deep centering breath before knocking loudly. “I’m leaving your clothes out here, kay? Gonna open that wine.”

Her voice was normal in response and Josh was wondering if he had just hallucinated. Had he accidentally taken a gummy and forgotten. Seemed unlikely since he usually wouldn’t when he was working on film stuff.

“Sounds good! Thanks, Josh!”

Josh tried to be normal when she came into his room in his clothes, rubbing his towel through her wet hair. He’d left the wine and two mismatched glasses on his bedside table. He mumbled that she could start without him as he passed her to jump in the shower himself.

On the fogged main mirror, she had written, “don’t work when it’s about to rain!”

Josh smiled to himself and stripped down out of his clothes that were still uncomfortably wet. His shower was much quicker and much colder. He couldn’t allow himself to be in there for very long or else he would’ve started to fantasize about what he was certain had just happened in here.

In his room, Y/N sat on his bed, taking large sips of the red wine Josh had found. She was nervous. Something about this storm was making her uneasy. The scene they had shot had done something to her. Everytime she looked at Josh, she swore he was eyefucking her and that made her feel strange. Extremely turned on. She had thought dealing with it in the shower would’ve solved it but the minute she walked out and saw Josh looking so sullen, still in his rain-soaked clothes sans his jacket, waiting for her to get out, she felt wet again. If anything, the quick wank had made it worse. Already slick and wanting, she wasn’t sure if she could handle being around just Josh for the night.

Now that they were friends, she couldn’t deny how attractive he was. God, it made her roll her eyes. He was talented and attractive and she was sitting in his bed, drinking his wine in his comfy clothes all at her request.

If it couldn’t get any worse, Josh walked into his room with his towel hanging around his hips and his chest speckled with droplets coming down from his hair.

“Didn’t have time to dry off?” She tilted her head, trying to sound casual. Unbothered when she was fully, terribly, bothered.

Josh shook his head, making more droplets fly around the room. “Forgot my own clothes.” He shuffled through his myriad of t-shirts and grabbed a gray one with a Buddhist symbol and black sweatpants.

“You sound like you need a drink,” she tried.

“Yes,” Josh sighed as if he was coming out of a desert with no water. He held his hand out and she quickly poured the second glass and placed it in his waiting hand.

Their fingers brushed and both of them pulled back as if they’d been burned. She met Josh’s widened, brown eyes looking dark in his navy room that was shadowed by the storm and his one yellow lamp. He clutched carefully to his towel and the clothes under his arm with the wine in his other hand, taking a long sip as he turned on his heel and returned to the bathroom.

She let her head hit the headboard of Josh’s bed. What the fuck was going on? She took another sip of her wine and then refilled the glass up high.

When Josh returned clothed, he sat on the foot of the bed and she silently refilled his glass when she saw it was already empty.

“So…what do you want to do?” She tries while folding her legs up under her chin.

Josh’s eyes flicker to the movement and get stuck on her legs for a moment before returning to her face.

“Movie?”

She shrugs, looking around his room for a television. “I don’t want to sit in your living room, your couch looks uncomfortable.”

“That’s where you’re sleeping if you can’t get home tonight,” Josh scoffs.

She arches an eyebrow and takes a sip of her wine. “I’ll sleep in Jake’s bed, he won’t mind.”

“No.” Josh stated flatly.

Her eyes turn back to him, cautiously. “Why not?”

“It’s weird.”

“No it’s not.” She sounds annoyed, placing her wine down and picking up her phone. “I’ll just text him and ask.”

The text sends and she smirks at Josh pointedly. Shortly after, a loud crash of thunder signals the power leaving for the rest of the storm and with it, the phone signals.

Josh smirks triumphantly over his glass when Y/N throws her phone dejectedly on the side table too, while he flicks on his battery powered lamp he had grabbed earlier as a precaution.

“Couch it is.”

She lays sideways along the top of Josh’s bed and hums, raising her hands above her head, allowing the bottom of the sweater to lift and expose her stomach. Feeling perfectly buzzed from the wine, she sighs, “I don’t know, this feels pretty comfy and I’m already settled. Maybe you should sleep on the couch since you love it so much.”

Josh watched her body extending across his bed and simultaneously wanted her there forever and to throw her out.

“Absolutely not. This is my house.”

“And I’m the guest,” she repeats. “C’mon lover, don’t be mean.”

“You’ve never seen mean,” Josh rolls his eyes and finishes his wine, laying it with hers on the table.

She laughs, outrageously loud. “You’re a lot of things, Josh. But I don’t think you’ve got a truly mean bone in your body or however that cliche goes. Evil sure, but that’s different.”

She hasn’t bothered to sit up and she’s enjoying the tone of voice Josh is slipping into and everything feels quite nice and warm. So warm. She shuts her eyes.

“No, no,” Josh hurries, moving himself so that he is closer to her. He pats her cheek lightly. “No falling asleep in my bed. Not allowed.”

“But I’m so comfy and cozy,” She croons, blinking her eyes back open. The smirk on her face gives her away.

“C’mon.” Josh takes her shoulders to push her upright. “Sit up.”

She laughs, but it dies out, recognizing the proximity of Josh’s face to hers. How his body is hovering over hers. How warm she is. “Fuck,” she whispers, staring at his lips, slightly stained from the wine.

“What?” Josh whispers back, realizing the same things as her. How soft the smallest bit of her skin is against his finger that’s on her shoulder, slipping along the collar of the sweater.

“Your lips are red,” she states.

Josh grins and lets his head fall between them with a laugh. “So are yours.”

He looks back at her and remembers the way she sounded in the bathroom. All the years he’d known her. All their fights. And how they weren’t really fighting anymore. How he teased her at Lover’s Inn and how good she’d been as his partner this last month and a half.

“What are we going to do with no power, August,” Josh whispered, already inching his face closer to hers.

She smiled and let her hands reach up to cup his face and neck. “Read the Bible by candlelight?” She whispered back as Josh’s nose nudged against hers.

He breathed a laugh across her lips and her breath caught in her throat when he finally attached his lips to hers. They kissed softly, just taking it in. Josh shifted them into a more comfortable position, one leg slotting between hers, while the other supported him so his torso wasn’t fully on her.

She whimpered immediately at the pressure and Josh smirked. He pressed harder, licking into her mouth.

She gasped when Josh began to kiss her neck and he spoke against her neck in between sucking against the skin. “I heard you.”

“W-what?” She was staring at the ceiling while she ran one hand against his shoulder and the other through his hair.

“I. Heard. You.” Josh repeated, allowing one of his hands to run under the sweater up towards her breast and she whimpered again. “Fuck,” he loved the way she sounded. “In the shower, lover.”

Her eyes shot wider, the haze of Josh’s lavishing touch disappeared with shame. “You did?”

Josh pulled back with a lazy grin, still playing with one of her nipples under her shirt and pecks her lips quickly.

“Yeah you fuckin’ told me to bring your clothes in because you’re a princess apparently and then you were in there getting off when I walked in.”

She felt embarrassed but remembered what was likely about to happen so it didn’t really matter. “Oh…I tried to deal with it quietly. I was just really turned on for some reason.”

Josh scoffed and retreated his hand from under her sweater. “C’mon,” he gestured to the sweater.

They were still acting like film partners through this interaction. Or at least how they acted. Talking casually while in the beginning of a sexual encounter.

She took it off and threw it to the ground while staring pointedly at Josh’s shirt. He followed suit before kissing her again. His chest looked so soft and warm, she wanted to be wrapped up in him.

“First, I almost had a heart attack at the sight of your thong and then I turned to leave and you’re in there playing with this thing.” He pauses his words, slipping his hand inside the boxers she was wearing, cupping her pussy.

She whines, extending her neck to kiss Josh’s. Feeling the need to touch more of him. He grins down at her again and kisses the space between her tits.

His hand rubbed ever so slightly over her mound without actually doing anything, but she felt the slightest friction and the pooling of her wetness. She grabbed at one of her tits.

“The curtain’s not opaque, August,” he continues and she groans at the nickname at a time like this. His middle finger slipped lower, hovering over her slit. He looked her in the eyes again. “I saw you writhing around your own little fingers. What’s it gonna look like when it’s mine your pretty pussy is wrapped around?”

She moaned at his words, throwing her head back against the pillows.

“Is it pretty? I bet it’s pretty.” Josh continued his special version of torture. She could feel his fingers but they weren’t doing anything she wanted them to. Every so often he planted a kiss on her torso. Of course he liked to tease by talking forever and ever.

“Take off the boxers and find out,” She tries not to sound impatient.

“Great idea!” Josh patronizes, slipping his hand out of the boxers completely and moving to take off the boxers.

She huffs.

“Don’t act spoiled,” Josh admonishes, returning his hand back to where it was while his other cups her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes again. He looks like an angel like this but so sure of himself. She’s amazed and completely at his will. “I know she already got to cum once under this roof.” He tsked, tapping his middle finger against her entrance. It was the lightest pat but she was so wet that Josh’s finger got a little of her slick nonetheless.

She moaned at the change in sensation, her hips dipping down in some instinctual attempt at getting him to slip inside.

“God, you are needy.” He removed his hands again and laughed when she huffed again. Both hands moved to her knees and pushed them to be bent and then apart, moving his body between them. His hands then went to her breasts, squeezing them and pinching tenderly at her nipples. Her hips bucked again and Josh kissed her again. “It’s gonna feel so good when I finally touch you where you want,” He offered, kissing her sweetly.

Pulling away he began to suck on her chest, continuing his monologue. “You were holding this perfect tit in one hand and rubbing your wet pussy with the other, right?”

She nodded when he looked to her for a response.

“I left when I saw you drop to your knees like some cock hungry whore…” Coming from someone else it would’ve sounded cruel, but from Josh’s lips it was the softest sweetest accusation in the world. His voice was honey and it only made her want him more. Maybe she was a cock hungry whore, for Josh.

Josh’s right hand returns to her pussy, cupping it like before and she’s sure she’s about to leak onto his palm.

“You’re leaking, princess,” Josh informs her, confirming her suspicion. “Do you like me talking mean to you? Why’d you drop to your knees in my bathroom, August? C’mon you can tell me.”

“I,” She starts. Josh chooses then to slip the tip of his finger inside of her.

“Yes?”

“I was about to c-cum and you have that, fucking, detachable showerhead…”

Josh thrust his finger fully inside her and she moaned, relieved but not much better. Now she felt herself quickly working up to another orgasm. He thrust his finger carefully, thinking over his response while trying to hold himself together now that he’d felt how warm and tight she was inside.

“Used my showerhead to get off in my shower. Touching these pretty tits, riding your own hand and now you’re laid out all perfect for me.” He added a finger and her hips began to move with his movements. “You are a little slut, aren’t you?”

She hums in agreement, one hand hanging onto Josh’s neck and another gripping her tit like her life depended on it.

“And you’re gonna cum again already? Fuck,” Josh sounded amazed. In awe of how sexy Y/N was, how willing and lovely she was, how she was perfect for him. “Go on.”

She came immediately, having held off for so long, trying to hold it for Josh despite how much he’d teased her.

After she rode it out, Josh removed his fingers and gave them a lick. Humming his satisfaction. She breathed heavily watching him, but wanting more. Seeing from the bulge in Josh’s sweatpants she knew he wanted more as well.

“Fuck me, Josh.” She sat up on her elbows beckoning him closer.

“Did you forget who’s in charge?” He laughed, but it was soft. They were still themselves.

She widened her legs and pouted, dropping her hand to her pussy, carefully circling her puffy clit.

“Need it, Josh.” She rocked her hips. “I think you need it too.” She hummed, looking pointedly at his straining cock.

Josh shook his head and crawled over her again, pushing her hand away from her clit. She took up the job of pushing down his sweatpants and boxers simultaneously.

“Next time, I wanna see you dropping to your knees like the cockslut we now know you are.” Josh breaths, losing track of his train of thought with the feel of her soft hand gripping the base of him gently.

“Next time could be later tonight…” She whispered back, connecting their lips again. “Or tomorrow.”

Josh groans, at her words and the feeling of her slipping the head of his cock through her slick. He resisted pressing in immediately, feeling her rubbing it back and forth from her entrance to her needy clit. He bit her lip and she moaned.

“I would’ve fucked you months ago if I knew that getting you wet was all it took to make you all sweet and nice.” He grunted.

His hips thrusting on their own accord caused his head to slip against her clit in a way that made her moan loudly. She tightened her grip on his cock and Josh’s hips moved back.

“I wouldn’t be rude to the girl who’s about to let you hit, lover.”

She nudged Josh’s head into her entrance and they sighed in tandem. Her hands went up to his shoulders from under his arms. Josh dropped his face into her neck, overwhelmed by the warmth and softness. They began moving at a steady clip. Her legs wrapped around Josh until he started thrusting harder and faster.

“Fuck,” she whined. “That feels so fucking good. Don’t stop.”

Josh had begun to sweat. He shifted one of her legs to balance one of his hands and then moved his other to the headboard and she moaned loudly adoring the stretch.

“‘M close,” He strained. His eyes were constantly shifting between her bouncing tits, his cock disappearing in her and her face and the expressions she was making. “You’re so wet.”

“Cum,” she breathed. Her fingers slipped down to her clit again, rubbing furiously.

Her walls tightened at the added stimulation and Josh was cumming. Hot and sticky inside her. He panted hard, collapsing on her with a wet kiss against her mouth. His cock had made even more of a mess of her, leaking out of her full, throbbing cunt.

Josh watched it. Entranced as he pulled out once more and twitched when Y/N moaned at the sensation, her eyes shut in pleasure.

“I’ll clean you up,” Josh nodded to himself before disappearing.

Less than 10 minutes later, the pair were cleaned up and wrapped up with water in Josh’s bed. Side by side.

They saw each other in class on Monday and Wednesday after their shoot and impromptu sleepover on Saturday that had run into Sunday, but they acted like nothing had happened. Or like it was completely normal. Which they both liked. They had been cordial upon waking up wrapped around each other on Sunday morning, but Y/N had made a quick exit, citing a myriad of reasons why she needed to go home now that the storm had passed. She even declined coffee.

It was Thursday, at Lover’s Inn, when the events of Saturday night became hard to ignore.

Josh didn’t show up first which she was grateful for. Jake sauntered in with his guitar case, his small but impressive pedal board and a few wrapped up cords over his shoulder. She smiled and they exchanged pleasantries as she shuffled around their table. Everything was ready, but she couldn’t stop herself from reorganizing things.

“Do you need a beer?” Jake asks after a tense 10 minutes of silence.

She laughs and flips around from the table, slumping against it. “Honestly, yeah.”

Jake lifts his mouth into a half-smile, nodding to the table. “You can have one of mine and I’ll steal one of my brothers.”

“How chivalrous,” She smiles, disarmed by Jake’s nature. She grabs two beers and the bottle opener from the table before crossing to him and handing over one beer to him, followed by the opener.

They click the necks together and take an appreciative sip.

“What’s got you flustered?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know,” She sighs, rubbing at her forehead, knowing exactly why.

Sam, Danny and Josh file through the side door while Y/N attempts to come up with a reason for her to be stressed. Jake watches her carefully, but her eyes immediately shoot to the sound of the door opening and their voices.

Josh scans the scene of Jake and Y/N on the two couches, sipping on beers, alone. His nose flares momentarily before setting down his piece of the drum kit and saunters to the couch, sitting beside Jake.

“Your turn,” Josh says, nodding to the door so that Jake will go help with the rest of their stuff.

Jake rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his beer before huffily standing up and walking outside. Josh eyes Y/N sitting silently across from him and takes a swif from his brother’s beer.

“I’m assuming he offered his share and then is planning to drink an extra of one of ours.”

She chuckles nervously, eyes shifting away from Josh and around the room. “You guys know each other well.”

“Brothers. Twins.” He shrugs, still watching her intently.

She discards her half-empty beer and stands, bee-lining for her bag. “I’ve got new stuff for you guys.”

Josh rolls his eyes, but feels a little bug of worry squirming in. The insecurity he had felt on Sunday had vanished with how normal they had been in class, but this made him feel like something was certainly off.

“Here,” She places the vest and medallion necklace she’d found for Josh beside his head on the back of the couch. “And here’s this for you, Danny.” She turned from Josh before he could even thank her, handing Danny a tank style shirt she thought he’d like. Sam received a flowy floral button down while Jake got a fringe leather jacket that she had been searching for all semester for him.

Jake beamed, his eyes shiny and his smile taking over his entire face. She smiled back at him, trying to fully feel the gratitude he was giving her. She watched as he tried it on and spread his arms in the mirror, admiring the movement.

“This is going to be so fuckin’ sick,” He laughed, slightly in disbelief, touching over the jacket constantly. “I can’t thank you enough, Y/N.”

She blushed a bit, feeling everyone’s eyes on her, especially Josh’s from his place on the couch. He was holding his vest in his lap, sullen that he had never thanked her so profusely for the things she found him.

“It’s my dream job–and if you guys ever get famous, I’ll make you real stage outfits. However you want.” Jake’s giddy energy was overpowering her nerves. It felt great.

The green room was a fun atmosphere for the rest of the hour leading up to their set. Josh pushed himself out of his pining and focused on the revelry. But before the band was about to go on, Josh hung back, leaving him alone with Y/N.

She saw him stall at the door, his hand catching the frame. His vest was tan suede tonight, with silver pieces swirling into pockets on the front and creating a pattern across his back. He turned around and she paused, once more at the table, beginning to clean up wrappers.

“I wanted to say thank you for all the vests and stuff you’ve found me this semester, August.”

She watched Josh cross the room to her. “It’s nothing. Like I said, dream job.”

Josh pressed closer and threaded his hand through her hair. His breath was warm against her skin. She finally met his eyes.

“I miss you.”

“You’ve seen me all week.”

Josh’s forehead drops against hers, his free hand coming to her waist. It’s hot and firm and she feels the breath leave her lungs. Her body presses closer to him.

“Not what I meant.”

“Josh…” She wants to kiss him so bad. Wants him to kiss her. Her hands are grasping at his forearms in a way she hopes isn’t too desparate. “You’ve got a show to play.”

His hand moves slowly from her waist across her stomach to the center of her jean skirt. His fingers fiddle with the button, slipping them below the waistband, feeling more fabric.

“It’s a shame.” His breathing was heavy. His nose kept nudging hers.

She licked her lips and swallowed.

“Really wish you weren’t wearing tights,” He murmurs before pressing a hot kiss to her lips.

Before she can really feel him against her, he’s pulling away and snapping the black lycra that he had wiggled his finger into against her skin. A sharp gasp sounds and he’s walking out the door to the stage, looking far too much like a rockstar than she’d like. After a few moments of attempting to collect herself, she leaves the trash to be dealt with later and follows Josh to see the start of the show.

This show was electric. Everyone was playing their best. Jake was rocking with his guitar so much that the fringe flew around, making the crowd of college-aged women the band had amassed go wild. Josh was strutting around the stage, raising his arms as he hit notes and dancing with Jake every so often.

Jake tried to convince the manager to let Sam and Danny into the front of house. ‘It’s not like they don’t have IDs that say they’re old enough,’ he reasoned conspiratorially. He was over the moon and he wanted everyone to celebrate since winter break was coming up and their show would be taking a rest for a while. Her manager relented, but Josh almost crushed his twin’s soul when he said he needed to go home to work on editing.

Sam and Danny’s exuberance at being able to drink at the bar overpowered Jake’s protestations to Josh, leaving Y/N and Josh alone in the green room once more. He smirked with great satisfaction as he shrugged the vest from his shoulders and began to pull his t-shirt back over his head.

“Where were we?” He saunters back over and she’s happy to see regular Josh instead of the rockstar Josh who had ambushed her earlier.

Yet, she remembered him. And she remembered his performance tonight. How low his pants were slung around his hips. A pair of tight black vinyl pants she had found him about a month ago. His happy trail had meandered down to disappear beneath the fabric she had chosen for him. Now, he was straining against those pants and she shut her eyes, coming to terms with what she was about to do.

“It’s your turn, Josh.” She meets him in the middle of the room, backing him up against the arm of the bigger leather couch. She caged him in for a moment, looking him up and down. Josh’s eyes were wide in surprise. “Sit on the couch.”

He is a bit confused, but doesn’t argue, shuffling to sit down as quickly as possible.

“Eager, huh?”

“Now who’s being mean?”

She grins and walks to stand in front of Josh, dropping to her knees with quiet ease and practice. Josh immediately throws his head back, sinking lower into the chair.

“Oh my god.”

“Didn’t want to leave you hanging,” She smiled. Running her hands over the tops of Josh’s vinyl clad thighs. “I could see it while you were on stage. At least,” She paused to chuckle. “More than usual.”

Josh sighed, eyes fluttering open to stare at her between his legs again. She was so beautiful even when she smiled at him so wickedly.

“Want your cock in my mouth, Josh?”

“Fuck, Y/N,” Josh couldn’t take the teasing of her hands and her words.

“Just say ‘please’.” She stared at Josh seriously. Her hands toying with the button and zipper of his pants now, brushing just over his hardening length.

“Please, please, fucking please.” He rushed out.

She laughed and shook her head. “God, fine. Relax.”

Her hands expertly unhooked the button and slid the zipper down with practiced hands of a costumer. This was far more explicit than any of the other times she had undressed someone. Josh’s cock was hot and heavy in her hand and her core ached at the memory of where it had been almost a week ago. She ran her tongue against it and Josh groaned.

She lavished his head with a few kisses and looked up at Josh, beginning to suck on the side of it. “So pretty,” She murmurs.

Josh’s hips bucked in response, his hand going to rest in her hair, but careful not to guide her. He wanted to see what she did. She gathered a pool of spit to let fall onto his thick cock before languidly running her hand over the length, hoping to tease him a little more. She hadn’t forgotten the treatment he gave her on Saturday. Josh’s hips bucked again and he groaned her name.

Taking his head fully in between her lips, she took pity on him. Beginning her descent, she attempted to get him all in her throat but had about a handful left when he hit the back of her throat. She hummed around him and he jerked in her throat, causing her to fall back. She massaged her lips around the place where his head met the shaft before trying again. One hand on his thigh and one beneath his shirt, she bobbed her head slowly, suctioning occasionally until Josh was hissing about being close again.

She pulled off him and smiled at him from her position. Her lips were wet with saliva and precum. Josh’s eyes were half closed in pleasure but he couldn’t believe the look on her face. Breathing heavy, flushed from taking him down her throat. Her hand moved along his length faster.

“Tell me when,” She murmured, eyes moving from Josh’s face to her movements around him.

Josh nodded, trying to stay still. Overwhelmed. “Now.”

Her lips reattached to his head, sucking a little harder, while her hand still worked near the base. Josh’s hips bucked in time with the spurts that hit the back of her throat and she clenched around nothing, wishing more than anything that she was brave enough to attempt penetrative sex in public.

She pulled off and swallowed, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth with a tired sigh. Josh’s satisfied smile watched her in awe, tucking himself away after a few moments of heavy panting.

“Jesus Christ,” Josh breathed, petting at her hair before bringing her to kiss his lips. “Thank you. Wow. Just… so talented.”

“Josh Kiszka not having the right words,” She smiled against his lips. She pulled away and ruffled his hair. “I must be good.”

Josh sputtered, jumping to his feet and following her to the side of the door where she was grabbing her coat and extra stuff.

“Do you need a ride home again?”

Josh scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh, I guess. Can’t really go out there and tell ‘em I need their keys when I was supposed to have left 20 minutes ago. Plus they’re probably expecting me to come pick them up eventually so I need my car for that.”

“Josh,” She stopped his rambling. Her hand pressed flat against his upper chest, bringing his eyes to hers. “Relax. My jaw’s too tired to give you another stress relieving head session.”

Josh shut up and nodded. She smiled, pleased with herself. They grabbed their stuff and headed for her Volvo after she locked the green room door.

“Driving you home like you’re my little bitch,” She stated half-way through the drive she now knew without directions.

“Shut up.” Josh sounded annoyed but really he was smiling, staring out at the passing streets.

When they pull up to his house, Josh pauses. “Do you wanna come in?”

“Can’t tonight. See you soon though.”

She kisses his lips tenderly, cupping his strong jaw in a way neither of them had ever expected.

Mid December and the semester was over. Their short film was a success. It was the last Thursday Greta Van Fleet would be performing at Lover’s Inn until the new year. Josh and Y/N hadn’t had time to talk about them with the rush of finals and getting the film in in time for screening. There had been stolen kisses during late final cut editing nights and in the empty hallways of the film building, but nothing else.

Josh had arrived with Y/N, helping her set up so that she could be done early and they could have alone time before the rest of the band started to arrive. They were so excited to be done with everything, so pleased with themselves, that they were hurriedly making out against the snack table, unable to keep their hands off of one another a moment longer.

So wrapped up in one another, exchanging words of teasing and searing lips against soft skin, they don’t hear Danny and Jake walking in.

With Y/N pressed against the table, Jake and Danny get an eyeful of her hands on Josh, one on his waist pulling him closer and the other grabbing at his right jean-clad ass cheek.

Danny whistling loudly and Jake clapping his hands together leisurely cause them to spring apart. Josh spins around, flushed and out of breath while Y/N adjusts the top of her shirt that Josh had pushed to the side for more access to her skin.

“About time,” Jake says with a happy smile, stalking to place down his guitar case.

Danny laughs and Sam walks in shortly behind them, silent for a moment, appraising the situation before understanding and exclaiming: “To the happy couple!”

Josh groans at his brothers’ smug looks before smiling. She laughs, hiding her head behind Josh’s shoulder in mild embarrassment. Everyone cheers and it feels silly that they ever detested being in the same room as one another.

During their final performance, Josh waxes eloquent about his wondrous time he’s spent on this very stage. He thanks everyone and then pauses, searching the audience for Y/N.

“Now this next one goes out to my lover,” He says as he winks. “You know who you are!”

The crowd goes wild and a softer than usual guitar riff comes in from Jake’s playing.

“August, honey / Tasted sweeter with you / Sticky fingers / From your own residue,” He sang.

Jake got to kick up the guitar. The three guys even sang the little backing ‘ooh’s into their mics that were rarely used.

“We don’t talk about it / We don’t have the time / We thought love was something / We weren’t meant to find.”

Josh’s voice is a perfect fit for the cover, she thinks it sounds even better than the original.

“But don’t you remember / August, honey, you were mine!”

It hurts her heart to realize why her name was ‘August’ in Josh’s phone and not for the asshole-ish reason he had originally told her. Sure, they’d met in August three years ago, that was still true, but she’d also mentioned this song to him. When they’d first been paired up freshman year, he had asked her what the song was that was paused on her phone when he handed it back after typing in his number. Always being scatterbrained, especially at 18, he must have written it over her name…And it was ‘August’.

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