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beskarandblasters · 6 months

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Bluffing Season

Enemies to Lovers!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: Ya know like “cuffing season” lmao!! Thank you to @pascalispretty and @hyzer34 for beta reading! 🤍

Summary: Frankie Morales is your next door neighbor of the worst kind. To put it simply, you two can’t stand each other. But when his girlfriend breaks up with him right before the holidays he asks you to be his fake date for Christmas, not wanting to go home to his family single yet again. You reluctantly say yes and as you spend time with him you realize he’s not as terrible as you once thought.

Word count: 14.6k (what the fuck lol)

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader is a baker, two years post Triple Frontier, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, jealousy, made up lore for Frankie/his family tree, reader lowkey got mommy issues (just a shitty family in general), drinking, mentions of drugs, food/eating, Frankie describing his trauma, some Spanish used, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names (cariño), sort of ambiguous time skips, Frankie is either a Libra or a Scorpio!!, no use of y/n

Late October

Beep Beep Beep

Ugh. Another shit start to your day with shit sleep as per usual. Running your own bakery means a lot of early mornings. Normally you don’t mind waking up early since you love what you do. You bought a new house on Magnolia Drive eight months ago which made your commute to the bakery much shorter. However… Your realtor neglected to tell you that it came with the worst neighbor on the face of the Earth. His name is Frankie and you can’t stand him. When you first moved in, he seemed normal, an ex-military, single guy living on his own. The deception didn’t last long, though. Because after about two weeks of living next to him, the shitstorm commenced. And now you wished you picked literally any other house in this city. His friends are at his house all the time, one of them always blocking your driveway with their pickup truck. They stay until at least four in the morning, blasting music when Frankie knows you have to work early the next day. He’s probably the worst neighbor in the entire state of Florida.

You’re getting in your car to start your morning commute for work when Frankie is grabbing the morning paper from his mailbox. You physically recoil when you see him. There’s a harsh line of demarcation separating your lawn from his because he cuts his grass once in a blue moon. It’s such an eyesore.

“Have you thought about, I don’t know, cutting your lawn?” you ask before shutting your car door.

He shoots you the middle finger and mouths something you can’t hear. You roll down the window for him to take a few steps closer to your car and repeat, “Stop feeding the fucking stray cats.”

Okay, maybe you aren’t the perfect neighbor either. But doesn’t he deserve it anyway?

“Bite me,” you respond, rolling your eyes and backing out of your driveway.

He rolls his eyes, too, and storms off. You giggle to yourself, feeling proud that you got a rise out of him. If he’s going to piss you off the least you could do is return the favor.

Work is fine, a little busier than normal. But the afternoon exhaustion is hitting. You can’t wait to go home, take a shower, and maybe get some sleep before Frankie’s friends come over. It’s Friday and they’ll be even more unruly than they normally are during the week. Don’t they have lives? Or like… a fucking family to go home to?? Probably not if they’re hanging out with the likes of him.

But alas, it’s finally time to go home. You close up the bakery and get in your car to drive back, excited to just melt into the couch for a few hours. As you turn onto your street you see that Frankie’s driveway is empty, for now, that is. He’s not outside, either. So that means you get to just slip inside your house without a hostile interaction for once. Score!

You pull into your driveway, get out of your car, and start walking towards your front door when a disgruntled voice stops you dead in your tracks.

“Hey!”

Not again.

“What do you want now?” you say, whipping around and using the bitchiest voice you can muster.

“Cut your fucking tree,” Frankie says, holding up a lemon.

…Is he fucking for real?

You have a lemon tree at the edge of your backyard and a few branches hang over the fence and into Frankie’s yard. You never thought to trim it because you assumed you were doing something nice for him, letting him have some of the lemons. But no, apparently he wants to complain about free fruit.

“You’re complaining about… free fruit?”

He stutters a bit, tripping on his words as if he just realized how stupid he sounds.

“I guess not.”

“That’s what I thought,” you say, turning and heading into your house.

The fucking nerve of that man.

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful aside from a bitter man complaining about free fruit. You hear Frankie’s friends next door and grumble to yourself. How do they have the energy to party every single day of the week? You turn in early and do your best to ignore how loud they are, getting ready for another busy day at the bakery. Tomorrow’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and you need to be well rested. Well rested as you can be with all the noise from next door.

The morning’s been typical so far; wake up feeling exhausted, argue with Frankie in the driveway, drive to work, open the bakery; and the usual stuff. It isn’t until halfway through your business hours that something… interesting happens. A woman enters the shop and browses the cakes in your display case.

“I’d like to get some writing on a cake.”

“Sure! Which one would you like?”

“That one,” she says, pointing to one on the bottom, a vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream and strawberries in the middle.

“Okay,” you say, grabbing it out of the case and taking it to your decorating table, “What would you like it to say?”

“Well, it’s for my boyfriend, Frankie so I’d like it to say “Happy birthday, Franklin” with a fish. I guess his nickname was catfish in the military.”

You know for a fact this is for Frankie because of the nickname. You’ve heard his friends screaming it next door when they’re drunk. But you also know for a fact his name is not Franklin, it’s Francisco. You didn’t have to ask him or anything, Amazon has delivered some of his packages to your house in the past by mistake. So this is fucking hilarious.

“Any specific color for the writing?” you ask, stifling a chuckle.

“Black is fine.”

You get to work on the writing and have mixed feelings. It’s kinda shitty that his own girlfriend doesn’t know his full name. And it’s also shitty that he’s going to have a birthday cake at his party with the wrong name on it. You should feel bad but… Nah, this guy sucks.

You glance over at his girlfriend before moving on to the fish. Although she clearly doesn’t know her boyfriend that well at all, you can’t deny that she’s beautiful. And all of a sudden you’re feeling… jealous? Wait, why are you getting jealous of her? For a guy you can’t even stand?

You gotta finish decorating this cake and get her out of here so you can try to deal with your conflicting feelings. You package the cake back up and walk it to the counter to cash her out.

“Okay, your total is fifty-three forty-nine. Cash or card?”

“Card,” she says, tapping it on the counter.

The receipt prints out of the machine for her to sign but before you hand it to her you look at the name printed on the bottom; Heather Ryan.

“Okay, just need your signature and then you’re all set!”

She signs her name on the receipt and slides it back to you.

“It looks great! Thank you so much!” she says before grabbing the cake and leaving.

Now that she’s gone you can process your weird and sudden emotions. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend and to be honest, it kind of surprises you that he has one in the first place considering his… lifestyle. But why are you jealous? He’s the worst.

Although… When you first moved in, you did think he was kinda cute before he showed his true colors. He got you with his curly brown hair peeking out underneath his hat but the attraction didn’t last long. Once his antic began, the attraction dissipated.

…Or so you thought.

Stop it, you tell yourself. He has made your life hell for the better part of a year.

You bury down your weird and confusing feelings for now, trying to continue the rest of the day as normal. The rest of the day is pretty uneventful and soon enough five o’clock rolls around. Just as you’re locking up the bakery, you get a text from your friend, Ally.

Hey, bestieee!! Drinks tonight?

You know what, why not?

You respond with:

Oooh, what time and where?

You get in your car and drive home, excited to have something to look forward to tonight. And at least you’ll be gone for some of Frankie’s antics. As you pull into your driveway you notice his friends aren’t there yet, all the better for you. You check your phone and Ally says;

7:30. Let’s go to the Harp tonight!! I’ll meet you there.

She’s referring to a bar downtown but to you, it honestly doesn’t matter where you go. You need to blow off some steam and work through your weird feelings with your friend, get her opinion on this random burst of jealousy you’re feeling.

You take a shower, change into a skirt and fitted tee, and do your makeup before getting ready to leave. Just to find one of Frankie’s friends blocking your driveway, of course. Why wouldn’t they do this shit on the one night you have plans?

Nah, this isn’t going to fly. You gotta say something. You march right over to his door and judging by the noise coming from inside, his birthday party is tonight. Alright, maybe you won’t be a huge bitch about this right now. Especially when you know how his birthday cake turned out…

You knock and someone other than Frankie answers the door. You recognize him as one of Frankie’s friends but you can put a name to his face.

“Oh, shit! Neighbor girl is here!” he says, calling out to Frankie over his shoulder.

Before you can ask him about the truck blocking your driveway he says, “I’m Benny. Come on in!”

Yeah, he’s clearly drunk. Whatever this will be quick. You reluctantly step inside and look around. You’ve never actually been inside Frankie’s house before. It’s honestly nicer than you expected considering his lifestyle and the way he keeps his lawn. You’re standing in his living room with Frankie and three other men. You’re feeling anxious all of a sudden but you don’t show it. Who knows what Frankie said about you to these guys?

“Look who it is, Fish!” Benny says, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Guys, this is my neighbor,” Frankie says. He looks a little… nervous? You’ve never seen him like this before.

“I’m Santiago,” a man with dark hair says, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, forcing a fake smile.

“And this is Will,” Santiago continues, gesturing to a man with short blond hair.

“You got anyone else coming, Fish?” Santiago asks, turning towards Frankie, “What about Heather?”

“Uh, she’s not coming.”

“Shit, man. Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine. But actually, can you help me with something in the kitchen?” Frankie asks, making eye contact with you. He looks bothered, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t letting it come out.

“Sure,” you reply, following him to the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator. The cake is sitting on the shelf in its box and your stomach drops. Poor guy.

He grabs the cake from the refrigerator and sets it on the kitchen counter.

“Can you help fix this? She put the wrong name,” he says, opening the lid to reveal the cake you decorated earlier today.

“I can try. Can you get me a butter knife?”

He opens his silverware drawer and hands you a knife.

“Well, I think I can smear out the name and make a swirly pattern around the happy birthday?”

“Whatever you have to do,” he says softly.

You take the knife and swipe away the “Franklin”, making a tie-dye design on the cake but stopping at the fish.

“You want me to leave the fish?”

“Nah, scrap it. Catfish is pretty much the only thing she knew about me anyway,” he says dejectedly.

“Right…” you respond awkwardly, swiping away your hard work from earlier. You can only assume he doesn’t know this birthday cake is from your bakery. But you fix the cake the best you can so it just says “Happy Birthday” with a swirly design.

“That better?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he says, letting out a sigh, “I just didn’t want them to see it.”

“I get that-”

“Let’s get this fucking party started!” Benny says, entering the kitchen and slamming a six-pack of beer on the counter.

“Oh, actually I have to go-” you start.

“What?? No way, you gotta stay,” Benny says, putting an arm around your shoulders.

You could stay and just cancel your plans with Ally. But this is Frankie’s birthday party and you weren’t exactly invited. And you’re both aware of how much you painfully dislike each other. You look at Frankie, searching his eyes for an indication of how he’s feeling.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he says softly.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”

“Nooo, stay,” Benny says, looking at you with a wide grin on his face.

“By all means,” Frankie says.

“Fuck yeah,” Benny says, “Can I get you a drink? We have all sorts of shit.”

“Hard cider?”

“A woman with taste. I like it,” he says, removing the arm around your shoulders and opening the refrigerator.

You pull out your phone to text Ally. It has to be something inconspicuous. She knows you hate Frankie with a passion so you can’t exactly say you’re partying with him and his friends right now. Maybe just lie and say you’re sick?

You do exactly that, saying your stomach is bothering you. Just as you press send, Benny’s hanging you your hard cider. And now it’s just the three of you in Frankie’s kitchen, standing around awkwardly.

“I have some of the MMA guys coming, too. That alright?” Benny says.

“Fine with me. The more the merrier,” Frankie smiles. But the smile seems forced.

Just Frankie says that there’s a knock on the door and it’s the guys Benny was referring to. A handful of men pile into Frankie’s living room with Will and Santiago, and now you’re the only girl here. And also sort of regretting your decision to cancel on Ally.

“Let me introduce to you some of my friends!” Benny says cheerfully, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the living room. You exchange hello’s with Benny’s friends, a group of four guys whose names you can’t really be bothered to remember.

Soon enough the folding table is pulled out and all of the guys are playing beer pong. You decide to just stand and watch, sipping your drink and keeping to yourself… except for Benny, who has been by your side all night. At first, it was kind of annoying but now that you’re talking to him he’s actually pretty cute. Or it’s just the alcohol talking.

“Can I get you another drink?” he asks when yours is empty.

“Sure,” you smile, handing the empty bottle to him.

Now that you’re alone for a moment your eyes are scanning the room again, and they lock eyes with Frankie, who’s playing beer pong but not really paying attention. Benny comes back with your drink, handing it to you and leaning against the wall with his arm raised over his head.

“Frankie never mentioned just how gorgeous you are.”

“Oh! Thank you,” you respond, caught you off guard. You’re feeling awkward, not knowing what to say back so your eyes are searching the room again. And once again, they lock with Frankie’s, whose eyes are… angry? But why is he angry? Is he… jealous? Nah, no way. He has a girlfriend. But she’s also proved herself to be shitty. And besides that, you two hate each other. Unless… you really don’t?

You decide to do a little experiment. Benny is super hot, but maybe you could turn up the flirting a bit and see just how jealous Frankie gets.

And that’s exactly what you do. You’re laughing at all Benny’s jokes, falling for every cheesy pickup line, doing the thing where you look from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes, literally anything to flirt. And even though it’s for an experiment, you’re having fun and you could actually see yourself maybe liking Benny.

You look over at Frankie, and to your surprise (and also delight?), he’s looking directly at you. His eyes are almost pleading with you. But at the end of the day, you don’t owe him anything. And he’s taken. So why stop all the fun?

“I just can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting,” Benny says, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know Frankie had such nice friends!” you respond.

Benny leans a little closer to you, his eyes fixed on your lips. Oh shit, is he really gonna kiss you? Right here? Right now? In front of everyone?

But also… why not?

You lean forward more too, inching closer and closing the gap between you two. Just as your lips are about to meet, Santiago shouts, “Jesus, Fish! What are you doing?!”

You pull away from each other and look at what’s going on. It seems that Frankie royally screwed up the round of beer pong because he and Santiago just lost.

“Alright, alright. Don’t yell at the birthday boy,” Will laughs.

Santiago sighs and says, “Best two out of three?”

The other men shrug but Frankie excuses himself, saying, “I need another drink.”

You can’t help but feel like that was your fault. Shit, maybe Frankie does have some sort of crush on you? Because why else would he get jealous over his friend flirting with you? Wouldn’t he want that to happen, as a means of burying the hatchet between you two?

“I have to use the bathroom,” you say to Benny.

“Down the hall on your right,” he says.

You set your drink down on the coffee table and walk through the kitchen, but before you head to the bathroom you take a look at Frankie, who’s sipping a beer and looking at his birthday cake. A look of confusion and uncertainty on his face. You just can’t help but feel bad for him in some sort of weird way. But there’s also a nagging feeling deep down inside you that’s telling you that you shouldn’t feel bad for him. This guy has been nothing but a complete asshole to you. Why do you care so much about his feelings?

You head down to the bathroom and pull out your phone. There’s a text from Ally and thankfully she wasn’t upset about the plans getting canceled. But you look at the time and decide, you should just go home. Besides, it’s getting a little boring watching the men play beer pong and you’re running out of things to talk about with Benny.

You head back into the living room and say to Benny, “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Aw, okay. I’ll catch you later. But maybe you can come to one of my matches sometime?”

“I’d like that,” you smile.

You poke your head into the kitchen and tell Frankie you’re leaving.

“Happy birthday by the way,” you say.

He nods and waves his hand a little before you bid your goodbyes to everyone else and walk next door. And the only thought on your mind is… What the hell just happened?

You flop down on your couch and the room feels like it’s spinning, your mind swirling with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. You’re feeling a weird mix of confusion, pity, and also… apathy? You run through the basics:

1. Frankie’s girlfriend sucks.

2. It’s shitty that his birthday cake was messed up.

3. You really don’t mind Benny at all and can see yourself liking him.

4. At the end of the day, Frankie is still an asshole.

And that trumps everything else, no matter how bad you feel for him.

Mid-December

Several weeks have gone by and you haven’t seen much of Frankie, or his friends for that matter. Lately, it feels like you've been living at the bakery twenty-four-seven. Especially since Thanksgiving just ended. But that also means you’re heading into another busy season; Christmas time.

The holidays are your least favorite time of year. But running your own bakery means that you get to keep busy during the holidays. It’s always the perfect excuse for when your mother calls and asks why you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You can usually get out of one and not the other. This year you skipped Thanksgiving so you’ll be due home for Christmas… unless you can think of another excuse to stay home again. But then you’ll get another phone call from your father claiming that “you’re breaking your mother’s heart” or whatever.

From what you can tell, Frankie stayed home for Thanksgiving, too. Though you don’t know if his family is around here or not. His friends didn’t come over for Thanksgiving so you assume they were with their own families respectively. And you’re not really sure what happened with his girlfriend. So the two of you were just… alone that day. For some reason, the thought makes you kind of… sad? But like you told yourself weeks ago, don’t feel bad for Frankie, like at all.

But now that you’re thinking of Frankie… he’s been his typical self, but maybe scaled back a bit? His lawn hasn’t been cut in God knows how long and his friends still come over to party here and there. But it’s definitely been a lot less than usual. Maybe the holidays are tough for him, too.

Just as you’re leaving to go open the bakery the week before Christmas, you get a phone call from your mom. You sigh and roll your eyes because you already know what this is about. And you’ve been dreading this phone call since Thanksgiving.

“Yes, mom?” you say as you answer the phone.

“Is that any way to answer a phone call from your mother?” she says. God, you can already feel the judgment and disappointment seeping from her voice, even over the phone.

“Ah, sorry Mom. How are you?”

“I’m just calling to see if we can expect you home for Christmas this year.”

“Uhh-”

“You know, since you broke your mother’s heart and didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.”

“I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy, uh, with the bakery and all.”

“That’s always the excuse. I’m getting sick of your shit. I need a straight answer as to whether or not you’ll be home for Christmas now.”

As you open your mouth to respond, probably with some poorly thought-out rebuttal since you’re so heated, you spot Frankie walking across his lawn toward you. Perfect escape from this phone call maybe?

“Shit sorry Mom. Gotta go. My neighbor’s coming up to me.”

As you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, you hear your mom’s angry protests. But you’re too focused on Frankie to care. Because what could he want with you now? You haven’t done anything to piss him off lately. That you can remember anyway…

“Hey,” he says with a shaky breath.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

“I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Okay…”

“Feel free to say no because it’s weird but I don’t know what else to do. And I’m sorry to drop this on you but-”

“Spit it out.”

“Will you come home with me for Christmas as my date? It would be fake, of course.”

Oh. You definitely weren’t expecting that to be the favor he needed. And for some reason him adding in “it would be fake, of course” is so funny. It’s so funny that you actually burst out into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re not being serious.”

“I am.”

“But… why?”

“My girlfriend broke up with me right before Thanksgiving.”

“Let me get this straight. She put the wrong name on your birthday cake and you let her break up with you first?”

“It’s not funny.”

“I know it’s not.”

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Why can’t you just go home alone?”

“Because I can’t go home for another holiday alone. I already skipped Thanksgiving. My family’s always pestering me about settling down and I can’t take it anymore.”

“What’s in it for me?” you sigh.

“Uh, you don’t have to go home to your shitty family? I mean I’m just assuming from that phone call you just had.”

“Yeah and instead I get to go home to yours?”

“My family’s not shitty. They’re nothing like me.”

You can’t lie to yourself and say that the offer isn’t tempting. Because as soon as you mention the word “boyfriend” to your mother she’ll be all over it. Like Frankie’s family, your mom’s been pestering you to settle down, too. If you offer her some sort of crumb to give her the indication that you’re finally “settling down” maybe she’ll leave you alone for once.

“Just think about it,” Frankie says while you’re contemplating his offer to himself.

He turns to walk back to his house but you stop him before he goes anywhere.

“Wait!”

He turns around to face you again with a hopeful look in his eye. You can’t believe you’re actually agreeing to this.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess it beats going home to my family.”

“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.

“Alright, the fake relationship hasn’t started yet,” you say, wincing at his embrace.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says, pulling away.

“How long are we there?”

“From the twenty-third until New Year’s. That okay with you? I know you have the bakery and all…”

It’s a little earlier than you prefer to close and it’s quite a long time to be gone but you suppose you can make do. Maybe you can catch a short flight home if you need to be back to the bakery by then?

“Yeah, fine with me. Where does your family live?”

“Savannah, Georgia.”

Oof, five hours in Frankie’s truck, just the two of you… But it’s worth it.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Great. Thank you so much. We’ll leave around ten, okay?”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”

“Oh, one more thing. Can you bake something?”

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I’ll think of what to make.”

“Thanks again,” he says, putting his hands together like he’s praying before turning and walking back to his house. You’re left in your driveway questioning all your life choices that led up to this moment. But now you get to call your mom and tell her about this mysterious boyfriend you just happened upon.

You get in the car to leave for work and call your mom again, making sure to act a bit more pleasant this time.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom,” you say, putting on your cheeriest voice.

“What happened with your neighbor?”

“Oh, nothing. He just had a package for me. Got delivered to his house by accident.”

“Oh, okay. So are you coming home for Christmas or what?”

“Actually, I’m not. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason?”

“And that is?”

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s family’s Christmas.”

“Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“Uhh, it’s sort of new.”

“What’s his name?”

“Frankie.”

“Well, don’t fuck this one up. I want to meet him after Christmas, okay?”

Classic mom. She always has to make this about how much you suck.

“Of course. I’ll talk to you later, though. I gotta go open up the bakery.”

“Alright. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

That’s the best phone call you’ve had with your mom in a while. Maybe pretending to date Frankie will be a good thing?

It’s time to go. You're dressed in a comfy outfit for the drive. Everything’s packed and ready to go. You decided to make lemon bars from the lemon tree in your backyard. They’re packed away neatly in your to-go container. You head outside with all of your bags and Frankie meets you in your hard to help you.

“Jesus, did you pack the kitchen sink, too?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” you say, rolling your eyes.

You’re already questioning why you said yes to this. But then your mother’s nagging voice is deep in the back of your mind.

It’s better than going home, you tell yourself.

You get into the passenger seat and Frankie backs out of the driveway. You look at his lawn out the window as you leave. Still not cut, of course.

For the first thirty minutes of the drive, it’s painfully silent. Until Frankie says, “You let me know if you need to stop to pee or something.”

“Okay…” you say awkwardly.

Another fifteen minutes goes by and he breaks the silence again.

“You know, if we want to sell this we have to act like a real couple.”

You were dreading this conversation.

“Yeah…”

“For one, we’ll probably gonna be sharing a bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And we have to act like we somewhat like each other when we’re not alone.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“Think you can do that?”

“I said yes to this, didn’t I?”

“Right…”

You can’t sit through another uncomfortable silence again. You’ve still got like four more hours of this drive to go.

“I guess we have to get to know each other.”

“Right. So what do you do? Oh fuck, I know you have the bakery but I meant tell me about it.”

“Uhh, right. I opened it four years ago. I just make desserts, like pastries and shit.”

“Gotcha.”

“What about you?”

“I used to be in the Army, specifically the Delta Force.”

“Oh, wow. How long were you in the Army?”

“I joined right after I got out of high school.”

“Long time,” you comment, “When did you leave?”

“About three years ago. I was just a pilot for a while.”

“Gotcha. What do you do now?”

“Not much. I’ve been living off my pension for the past two years after some shit happened.”

“We don’t have to talk about-”

“Our friend passed.”

“Oh, Frankie. I’m sorry.”

He says nothing more and you’re so curious for more information but you don’t want to pry either. It falls silent again and then you decide to pry for more information about a less heavy topic.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your girlfriend?”

“She broke up with me two days before Thanksgiving.”

“That’s rough. What did you tell your family?”

“I pretended I was sick.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. I probably should’ve ended things a while ago. I don’t think she had any idea about who I really am.”

“Right.”

“She didn’t even know my full name.”

The cake that you made.

“Yeah…”

“She put the wrong name and didn’t even get a cake I like.”

“About that.”

“Hm?”

“Do you know where she got that cake from?”

“No.”

“She came to my store.”

“…Did you know it was the wrong name?”

“Well yes, but what was I supposed to say? She’s the customer. I can't correct her. I just have to write what she ordered.”

“I know…” he sighs.

“Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that she was the wrong person for you, okay?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I felt bad making it.”

“You did?”

“I mean, it’s kinda shitty if your girlfriend doesn’t know your name, right?” You chuckle.

“Right again,” he nods, looking over at you from the driver's seat.

“So what kind of cake do you like then?” you ask.

“Chocolate. I’m a simple guy.”

“Noted. So now I know Frankie Morales used to be in the Army, used to be a pilot, and likes chocolate cake. Anything else I need to know?”

“That about sums me up I guess.”

“Oh, come on! There’s more to you than that. What do you like to do for fun? Besides partying.”

“Oh, uh, I like to play poker with my friends. I’m into cars. And we’ll go support Benny at some of his matches. That’s pretty much all I do these days.”

“And also not cutting your lawn.”

“Listen-”

“And complaining about free fruit,” you tease.

“Alright, alright. I know I haven’t been the best neighbor in the past.”

“Uh-huh,” you say sarcastically.

“I guess after what happened I went down a spiral. And I was just… selfish for a while. Only caring about what I wanted to do and not thinking how it affects others.”

“That’s fair. You went through something traumatic.”

He opens his mouth to say something else but no words come out. It feels like he’s hiding something or not telling the full truth. And he wants to tell you, but he feels just can’t, that you’re not ready for that just yet.

It’s silent again and this time you find yourself dozing off with your cheek pressed up against the cool glass window. Somehow you’re able to fall asleep to Frankie’s music that he put on to fill the silence. You recognize it’s a Tom Petty song, but as you’re trying to put your finger on just what song it is, sleep fully overtakes you.

You were only out for about an hour and a half. It’s hard to sleep for long periods in a truck. As you open your eyes and stretch a little, Frankie says, “Wake up, sleepyhead. You’re officially the worst co-pilot in the world.”

“Whatever,” you say sarcastically, also while stifling back a yawn.

“I’m just teasing. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t sleep for too long anyway. It’ll mess up my sleep schedule.”

“Oof, my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up.”

You glare at him from the passenger seat. But he doesn’t get why, looking at you and going “What?” with a shrug.

“I noticed,” you say coldly.

Everyone knows the best time to air your grievances with each other is when you’re trapped in a moving vehicle together!

“Okay… Why do you seem mad?”

“You and your friends are just… loud.”

“Oh.”

“And I have to be up early in the mornings to open the store.”

“Oh,” he says again like the realization is hitting him.

“It’s alright…” you say awkwardly, even though it’s not.

“It’s not alright. I wasn’t being considerate.”

“I know, but I didn’t say anything either.”

“You sure said something about my lawn,” he teases.

“Because it’s a fucking eyesore, Francisco!”

“Be honest. You just wanted to see me mowing the lawn with my shirt off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t lie! I saw the way you looked at me when you first moved in.”

“Oh, shut up!” you say, playfully slapping him on the arm.

“You’re not denying it,” he says with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Maybe I thought you were cute when I first moved in. Didn’t last long, though.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m trying to be better. Ironically enough I think Heather dumping me was what I needed.”

“I think so, too.”

Before either of you can say anything else, Frankie’s passing a sign indicating there’s a rest stop ahead.

“Can we stop? I have to pee,” you say.

“Sure thing,” he says, pulling off the highway and into the rest stop parking lot.

“Meet you back here?” you say, opening the door.

“I’ll go with you. All sorts of seedy characters hang out at rest stops,” he says, getting out of the car and walking around to your side.

He helps you get out of the truck and walks inside with you, placing a hand on the small on your back as you cross the parking lot. His head’s in a constant swivel, eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble.

“I think I’ll take it from here,” you say, stopping in front of the women’s restroom.

“I’ll be waiting here,” he nods.

You nod back and look at what he’s wearing; a burgundy t-shirt with a black zip-up sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and of course the Standard Oil cap. Now that you’re starting to see Frankie for who he really is… you don’t mind him at all? Seven months ago you never thought this would’ve happened, that you’d actually be civil with him. Maybe you just had to give him a chance.

You do your business and walk back out to the lobby to meet Frankie. He’s on high alert, standing stiff as a board and taking in all of his surroundings. Until he sees you and his face lights up.

“I got us some stuff for the road!” he says cheerfully, holding up a plastic bag.

You look inside the bag and “some stuff” was an understatement. It looks like Frankie bought out the entire store. There are bottles of water, soda, different kinds of chips, candy, and gum- you name it, he bought it.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just got a few different things,” he says, most likely noticing how wide your eyes got.

“Thanks, Frankie. That was sweet of you.”

“Do you need anything else before we get back on the road?”

“I think I’m all set,” you nod.

You walk back to the truck with him and he does the same thing he did before, placing a hand on your back as you cross the parking lot. He opens your door for you and you take the bag from him once you’re settled in your seat. He gets back into the driver seat and soon enough, you’re back on the road.

“So I should probably prepare you for meeting my family,” he says, reaching for a Slim Jim in the bag.

“Oh god, why?”

“They’re not bad. They’re just… a lot? But they mean well.”

“Okay.”

“So you have my mother, Rosa, and my father Francisco Sr. But he passed away when I was twenty.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have three older sisters.”

“You’re the baby of the family?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. It just tracks.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. My sisters are Ria, Isabel, and Laura. Ria is married to Emmanuel and they have two kids, Luna and Camila. They’re college-aged. And then Isabel is with her wife, Aurora.”

“Okay,” you respond, mentally trying to keep track of all this.

“And then Laura is married to Rafael and they have three kids, Sofia, Anthony, and Marcelo. Sofia is twelve. I think Anthony’s nine or ten. And Marcelo is four. He’s my favorite.”

“Frankie! You’re not supposed to have favorites.”

“It’s not like I tell them that. I also have two aunts, Aunt Linda and Aunt Maggie. They’re my mother’s sisters. And then my Uncle Tommy, he’s my dad’s brother. And then there’s Cousin Ben, he’s Tommy’s son, around my age.”

You’re doing mental gymnastics, trying to memorize everyone’s names, ages, and who they’re married to.

“Got all that?” Frankie says with a smirk, noticing the puzzled expression on your face.

“I think so?”

“Don’t worry. Everyone will introduce themselves when we get there. They’re not gonna leave you alone so sorry about that in advance.”

“It’s alright. It beats going home to my family.”

“What are they like? I’m assuming they’re… not good if you don’t want to go home for the holidays.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it pretty much. My mom is super overbearing and nitpicking. I can’t do anything, or wear anything, or even say anything without her giving her two cents. My dad just sits there and lets her spew her bullshit without a filter. And then my younger sister, Erica, is just… perfect. She can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.”

“That sounds tough.”

“It is. I stopped going home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. I try to just do one each year but I can’t take it anymore.”

“I understand,” Frankie says softly.

“My sister’s in medical school to be a cardiologist. So to my parents, running a bakery just doesn’t compare.”

“That’s stupid. Don’t they know how hard it is to run your own business?”

“No, and they probably don’t care to be honest.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for getting me a way out of Christmas this year, though.”

“Of course. You’re doing me a big favor.”

The rest of the drive goes smoothly and eventually, you’re pulling into Frankie’s parents' house in Savannah. The second Frankie’s truck is in the driveway, an older woman, probably his mother, is running out of the front door and into the driveway. He parks the truck and you get out to meet her. She immediately pulls Frankie into a big hug.

“My baby’s home!!,” she says, embracing him and placing her hands on the back of his head.

“You and that damn hat,” she says, “You have such beautiful hair, mijo. Why do you hide it?”

“You know I like the hat, Ma.”

She pulls away and her eyes are immediately on you. You’re nervous about her first impression of you, even though you’re not even Frankie’s girlfriend. But she thinks you are and you need to play the part.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” she says, pulling into a hug, too. She gives the best hugs, rubbing your back and swaying just a little, even though you just met.

“I want you to be comfortable here, okay? My house is your house,” she says, pulling back and grabbing your hands.

“Thank you so much for having me in your home, Mrs. Morales,” you smile.

“Please! Call me Rosa. Let Francisco get the bags and we’ll go inside, yeah?”

“Okay,” you nod, following her inside the house.

It’s a beautiful home, decorated to the nines with the Christmas spirit. She leads you to her living film where there are pictures of everyone Frankie mentioned on the way here. On the coffee table, there’s one of Frankie’s parents with him and his sisters. You can really see the resemblance there between him and his mom. They have the same warm brown eyes and dimples.

“You have a beautiful home, Rosa,” you tell her, sitting on the couch next to her.

“Thank you, honey,” she says, “Tell me about yourself. It’s so hard to get Francisco on the phone these days. I feel like I know nothing about you.”

“I live in Tampa like Frankie. We don’t live too far from each other And I run a bakery.”

“Wow, good for you. It’s hard running your own business. Your parents must be very proud.”

“They are,” you say, lying through your teeth.

“How has my son been? He’s been a little off since he lost Tom in Colombia two years ago. He’s not doing drugs again, is he?”

“Oh! No, to my knowledge, he isn’t?” you respond, stumbling over your words. That was a lot of information to take in, most of it Frankie hasn’t told you about yet.

“That’s good,” she sighs, “I worry about him.”

“I get it. But I think he’s on an upward trajectory.”

“Thank you, honey. I know he’s a lot to put up with.”

Frankie meets you in the living room and plops down on an armchair across from the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Tired?” you chuckle.

“Yeah,” he pants, “Someone had to pack everything they own and the kitchen sink, too.”

“Francisco! You grew up with all women. Don’t you know this is how we are?” his mother says.

“Yeah, Frankie,” you add sarcastically.

“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he says, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes.

“Where did you put the lemon bars?”

“In the refrigerator.”

“You made lemon bars? Francisco told me you liked to bake.”

“Yeah!” you say, turning towards her again, “I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“Why don’t you both help me prepare dinner for tomorrow night? After you rest, of course. You had a long drive.”

“Oh, yeah. I need a nap,” Frankie says, getting up from the chair and heading up the stairs.

“Get some rest, honey,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs.

“Okay,” you say, feeling a little awkward that you’re supposed to just go lay in a bed with Frankie.

Frankie’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs, smiling down at you. For some reason the sight makes your heart skip a beat. You meet him upstairs and he leads you to his childhood bedroom. His walls are blue and his bookshelves are filled with baseball trophies from when he was a kid up until high school. There are a few car posters scattered on his ealls. The bags are at the foot of his bed that’s tucked away in the corner of his room and thankfully, it’s not a twin-sized bed. Across the room is his desk, a few comic books stacked in a messy pile like he never left.

“This is my room,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the space around him.

“Cute,” you say, walking around and eyeing some of the stuff he has on his shelves. There’s a picture in a frame of Frankie as a kid with presumably his father right after one of his baseball games. He was a cute kid, wearing a toothy grin with some holes for the baby teeth he lost.

“That’s my dad,” he says, noticing you looking at the picture.

“Now that I’m looking at him, I can’t tell who you look like more,” you comment.

“Definitely my dad,” he says.

You turn to look at him and realize he’s right. A lot of his facial features match his father’s, but his eyes- those are his mother’s.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“A little,” you yawn.

“I don’t have to sleep in bed with you,” he says quickly.

“I thought you said we were going to? You know, to keep up appearances or something,” you say, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh, right. Just making sure.”

He takes off his sweatshirt and his hat, his curls matted down from wearing it on his head all day. He sets them down on the desk and walks over to the bed, pulling back the comforter and slipping in between the sheets. He moves to the side closest to the wall, letting you have the outside and the wall with the outlet to charge your phone like a true gentleman. You crawl in beside him, lying down side by side, mere inches from each other.

“You don’t sleep naked, do you?”

He doesn’t say anything at first and you take that as a yes.

“…I won’t while we’re home.”

“Cool,” you say awkwardly, rolling on your side and closing your eyes.

“Goodnight?” he says.

“It’s just a nap, but sure. Goodnight, Frankie,” you chuckle.

…You do your best to fall asleep but to be honest, you’re freezing. You don’t really get why. You’re only a few hours north and Georgia doesn’t typically get too cold. Unless his mom has the air on or a window open; something. That doesn’t make sense, though. Don’t elderly people keep their houses entirely too hot?

“You’re shivering,” Frankie says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can see you shaking.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to be cold.”

“What’s your solution then?”

“I could tell my mom to adjust the-”

“No, do not do that.”

“Or there’s the other option.”

“Uh huh…”

“I could hold you.”

“…You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“…Fine.”

You feel him scooch closer to you and all of a sudden his warm chest is pressed up against your back. The comforter lifts for a second before his muscular arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer towards him. You’re immediately feeling warmer. He’s like a human space heater or something.

“Better?”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”

As much as you hate to admit it, you’re much more comfortable now. However, there is one thing that’s keeping you from falling asleep. And that’s Frankie’s bulge presses right up against your ass.

…You don’t hate it, though. If anything it makes you feel… good? Knowing that you have that effect on him. Maybe he really was jealous weeks ago at his birthday party. All of this begs the question; when did his feelings for you begin?

Lost in thought and enveloped in Frankie’s body heat, you drift off to sleep.

You wake up an hour or so later to the doorbell ringing. Frankie wakes up, too, stretching and removing the arm that was slung over your waist. You already miss its absence.

Frankie’s mom is talking to someone at the door. And it sounds like she’s talking to… a pizza delivery guy?

Frankie rolls onto his back, stretching again and yawning. You fall onto your back, too, lying side by side.

“I think she ordered pizza,” Frankie says sleepily.

“That was nice of her.”

“Just so we don’t have to worry about making dinner tonight while we prepare tomorrow’s.”

“Make sense,” you reply, rolling out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.

“Did you sleep well?” Frankie asks, sitting at the edge.

“I did. Thanks for keeping me warm.”

“You’re welcome but it wasn’t all for you, though.”

“Oh?” you ask, wondering if he could be referring to the hard-on he had while holding you…

“Yeah, I can’t sleep next to you if you’re shaking like a leaf.”

You roll your eyes and he chuckles, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs, straight into the kitchen where the pizza awaits.

“Dinner’s here!” Rosa says cheerfully, gesturing to the pizza boxes on the counter, “There’s a salad and garlic bread, too.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Frankie says, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you say, “Are you sure you don’t want anything towards it?”

“Nonsense! When you’re in my house, I take care of you,” she says, waving you off.

A saint of a woman she is. Frankie’s lucky to have a mother like her. The three of you sit at the kitchen counter eating while Rosa talks about what Christmas Eve dinner will be.

“So tonight we’ll prepare the pasteles. And tomorrow we’ll do the rice and beans. Ria is bringing rolls. Laura’s bringing salad. And Isabel’s bringing flan.”

“Ooh, I love flan. I can make gingerbread cookies for Christmas Day, too,” you say, finishing your slice of pizza.

“Thank you, honey. We’ll have a great time tomorrow. And you’ll get to meet all of Frankie’s sisters.”

“How exciting,” you say looking over at Frankie.

“Frankie’s the baby of the family,” his mother says.

“I could tell,” you snicker.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You just have little brother energy,” you shrug.

“What about you, dear?” his mom asks.

“It’s just me and my sister. I’m the oldest.”

“Well you have older sister energy, so how about that?”

“So I’m wiser and more responsible?”

“Whatever,” Frankie sighs.

“It’s true, Francisco. You can ask Ria.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says sarcastically, taking all your plates to the sink.

You clean up from dinner with Frankie before preparing the pasteles. You’re standing at the kitchen island, stuffing the pasteles and listening to Rosa tell stories about Frankie when he was a kid.

“He was my toughest kid to potty train,” she says, shaking her head.

“Mom!” Frankie says, shooting daggers at her with his glare.

“What? You were. And I have the pictures to prove it. For the first two years, you would only use the training potty. I’ll bring out the photo albums tomorrow.”

“No,” Frankie says quickly.

“Oh yes,” you laugh.

“Ughhh,” Frankie sighs while you and Rosa share a laugh.

Soon enough all of the pasteles are prepped for tomorrow and the kitchen is clean again.

“Thank you both for helping me. Now get some sleep! You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with this family.”

“Goodnight, Ma,” Frankie says, heading towards the stairs.

“Goodnight. Thank you again for everything,” you say to her.

“Of course, honey. See you in the morning!” she says.

As you’re heading up the stairs, she calls out to Frankie, “Francisco! Make sure you show her where the fresh towels are!”

“I will, Ma,” Frankie says, calling down the stairwell.

“You want to shower?”

Before you can respond he quickly adds, “Not with me of course.”

“I know,” you snort, “But sure. Where’s the bathroom?”

He leads you down the hallway and stops at a door on the right, opening to reveal a linen closet.

“Towels are here. Bathroom’s over here,” he says, pointing to a door directly across from the linen closet.

“Thanks,” you tell him, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower. You shut the door behind you and now that you’re alone for once, you let your mind wander…

What happened in Colombia? And what sort of drugs was Frankie on?

You turn on the shower and strip, letting the hot water run down your body as you think about all the possibilities. He did say he lost a friend. Maybe that’s what happened in Colombia. But that doesn’t explain the drugs.

A knock on the door brings you back to reality.

“Can I come in?” Frankie asks.

“Uhh-”

“I just have to brush my teeth. I won’t look.”

“I guess.”

He opens the door and enters the bathroom, keeping his word and looking away from the shower curtain. In fact, he looks at anything else in the bathroom but the shower curtain, picking up a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and reading the warnings. You poke your head out of the shower, watching as he brushes his teeth and reads the label on the bottle. And there’s something so… cute about it, so endearing. And now that you think about it, you wouldn’t particularly mind if he saw you in the shower. You can’t believe you’re actually admitting this to yourself.

But before you know it he spits the sink and rinses his mouth, exiting the bathroom and leaving you with your confusing feelings yet again. You finish your shower and dry off, thinking about his mysterious past again. All of this strange information begs the question… What was he doing in Colombia in the first place? Does he have some dark secrets he’s hiding? And if so, how could he be so cute?

You look at the toilet and see that Frankie also brought you your pajamas, flannel Christmas pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of lacy underwear…

That means he went through your bag, which should make you mad but the fact he decided to bring you your pajamas so you didn’t have to walk down the cold hallway sopping wet is adorable.

You’ll ask him about his past later you decide. For now, he’s your cute pretend boyfriend and you’re going to live in that fantasy for a while.

Once you’re dry and dressed, you hang your towel up on a hook and walk back to Frankie’s room, where he’s tucked into bed waiting for you. You crawl into bed beside him, lying down on your side and feeling his warm embrace again. His arm returns around your waist and soon enough you’re falling asleep, comforted by his warmth and his scent.

The smell of food cooking downstairs wafts up to Frankie’s room, pleasantly waking you up. Frankie’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded neatly on his tummy.

You roll over and ask, “You okay?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous for what? Your family sounds awesome.”

“They are. They can just be overwhelming, I guess.”

“I get it. It’ll be fine, though. Like you said, I don’t think they’ll leave me alone.”

“Right,” he says, shaking his head, “It’s stupid. Today’s gonna be fun.”

“Wanna help me with the gingerbread cookies?” you say, getting out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.

“Sure,” he says, sitting at the edge and yawning, “Do you need to get anything for them?”

“I could just DoorDash some stuff. I don’t want to raid your mom’s kitchen.”

“Ah, she won’t mind. Let’s go downstairs.”

He stands up and stretches, the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing lifting a little and exposing some of his tummy. His flannel pajama pants are hanging low on his hips and he’s got a little bed-head going on, his curls slightly matted in the back. God, he’s just so… cute. You can’t deny it any longer. As much as you don’t want it to be true, Frankie Morales is a cute man.

You follow him downstairs to the kitchen where his mother is cooking away, stirring different pots and pans on the stove.

“Good morning you two,” she smiles.

“Good morning,” you respond, “It smells amazing down here.”

“Thank you, honey.”

“Ma, I think we’re going to make the gingerbread cookies if we won’t be in your way.”

“Go ahead! By all means. Maybe you can decorate them with the kids tonight?”

“Good idea! Do you need me to get anything from the store?”

“Nonsense! I should have everything you need.”

“Told you,” Frankie says, opening a cabinet and looking through the shelves with you.

To your surprise, she has everything you need for the cookies. And as you sit down at the dining room table Frankie says, “This kitchen is always fully stocked.”

As you roll the dough you think about tonight, meeting the rest of Frankie’s family. You’re excited to meet them but you’re also wondering what you should wear. You packed a few different options for outfits because every family’s vibe is different. Your family tends to lean more formal when it comes to holidays but Frankie’s family could be the complete opposite.

“Frankie?” you ask, cutting the gingerbread men out with a cookie cutter.

“Yeah?”

“What does your family wear on Christmas? Like do they dress up?”

“Oh, we abandoned trying to look nice a long time ago. Especially once my sisters started having kids.”

“Oh, okay. So don’t dress up?”

“Nah.”

That makes you feel at least a little relieved. For some reason, you’re dying for them to like you. And you don’t even get why. You’re not Frankie’s girlfriend. There’s a large chance you’ll never see them again after you leave and go back to Florida.

Once the cookies are on the trays, you pop them in the oven and set a timer on your phone. Rosa’s just about finished with dinner for tonight and Frankie’s cleaning up the mess from the cookies. You look at the clock on the stove and ask, “What time is everyone coming?”

“Around five or so.”

It’s already two-thirty now. You should probably get ready soon, in case Rosa and Frankie need the shower.

“I’ll pull the cookies out if you want to go get ready,” Frankie says as if he read your mind.

“Oh okay, thanks. Fifteen more minutes.”

“Gotcha,” he says, leaning against the counter beside the stove.

You go upstairs and into Frankie’s room, going over all of your outfit choices in your head. You decide to wear option 3, light wash jeans and an emerald green sweater, nothing too fancy. You grab your clothes and your makeup and head to the bathroom, taking extra time to get ready. The timer on your phone for the cookies goes off and you hope Frankie remembers to take them out. You continue your shower, anxiously thinking about meeting the rest of his family.

Eventually, as you’re dressed and putting on your makeup, Frankie knocks on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Go ahead,” you say, leaning forward toward the mirror and putting on your mascara.

He opens the door and looks at you, practically bent over the sink.

“You look…”

“Huh?” you, turning your head towards him.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes wide.

“Thanks. I’m almost done and then the bathroom’s all yours.”

“No rush. Take your time.”

You finish your makeup and gather all your stuff, leaving him in the bathroom and heading back to his room. You plop your stuff down on his bed and think of what to do next. Might as well make yourself useful while he’s showering and get the icing bags ready for the gingerbread cookies. You head back down to the kitchen, where Rosa’s sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

“You look beautiful, honey,” she says.

“Thank you,” you say, sitting down across from her.

“Francisco’s in the shower?”

“Yes, he is. I think I’m going to get the icing bags ready for the cookies if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she says, springing up from her chair and rifling through the kitchen cabinets.

She pulls out an electric mixer, confectioners sugar, and food coloring, setting them down on the table.

“Milk’s in the refrigerator and let me get you some Ziploc bags…” she says, reaching into the cabinet again.

“Thanks,” you say, getting to work on the icing while she sits across the counter and watches.

“I know I’ve just met you but I want to say thank you, for taking care of my son,” she says.

“Of course,” you smile, scooping icing into the ziploc bag for makeshift piping bags.

“He hasn’t been the same since Tom died. But now that he’s here, it’s like he’s his old self again.”

Tom. There’s that name again. You have to know what happened if you’re going to keep up this charade. This is the second time she’s mentioned it and you’re playing along like you know what happened. It’s bound to come up again.

“I’m glad he’s doing much better,” you say, adding food coloring to the bags.

Eventually, you hear the water turn off which means Frankie must be getting out of the shower. Rosa gets up from her stool and says, “Well now that Francisco’s finally done, I guess I’ll go shower. I’m sure he left me no hot water.”

You two share a laugh and she heads up the stairs. You’re left alone with your thoughts until Frankie comes back downstairs again. So for now, in the fleeting moments of solitude, you think of ways to ask Frankie about his past that don’t sound completely insensitive. You could ask him under the guise of just trying to keep the charade going. This whole thing was his idea. He’d have to understand, right?

“Hey,” he says, snapping you from your thoughts. You didn’t even notice him coming downstairs.

“Hi.”

“These look good. The kids will have fun decorating them.”

“I hope so,” you say.

You’re both just standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not saying a word. You think to yourself that maybe now would be the best time to ask, in case you need this information for tonight to go smoothly.

You open your mouth to ask, “What happened in Colombia?” but you’re interrupted by the front door opening.

“Feliz Navidad!” a woman’s voice shouts. You’re assuming it’s one of Frankie’s sisters or aunts.

He pokes his head down the hallway and shouts, “Ria!”

You glance over at the clock and she’s early. Frankie looks over at you and says, “She’s always early.”

“She’s the oldest?”

He nods. It makes sense.

She comes into the kitchen and pulls Frankie into a big hug. She looks like a younger version of Rosa, a little bit shorter than Frankie. Her husband and kids pile in behind her, her girls hugging Frankie and her husband shaking his hand.

“So nice of you to show up for Christmas. Not battling some mysterious illness this time, huh?” she teases.

“I’m not lying! I was really sick.”

You’re standing there awkwardly in the kitchen, not trying to interrupt the family reunion. It isn’t until one of Ria’s daughters looks over at you and asks, “Who’s this?” that your presence is acknowledged.

Frankie walks over to you and snakes an arm around your waist, proudly saying, “This is my girlfriend!” followed by your name.

“Nice to meet you!” Ria says, “It’s been such a long time since Francisco’s brought a girl home!”

This is the second family member to refer to him as Francisco and now you’re wondering if you should be doing the same. Before you can continue she motions her daughters over and says, “This is Luna and Camila. Luna’s in her junior year of college and my Camila’s a senior in high school!”

“Exciting times for both of you,” you comment, not really knowing what to say.

But Ria continues anyway. “And this is my husband, Emmanuel,” she says, gesturing to her husband in the corner. He seems like the quiet type, letting his wife do all the talking in social situations.

“Where’s Ma?” Ria asks Frankie.

“In the shower. Are the others on their way?”

“Laura’s almost here. Isabel and Roro will probably be late as per usual. Will you grab the rolls out of the car?”

Emmanuel nods, again not saying much of a word at all before heading out to the car in the driveway. Ria and the girls take off their coats, hanging them on a coat rack by the front door. While Luna and Camila retreat to the living room, Ria takes the rolls from Emmanuel and puts them in the drawer underneath the oven, putting them on a low setting to keep the rolls warm until dinner starts. Soon enough, you’re all sitting in the living room together, awkwardly exchanging glances and waiting for either Rosa to come downstairs or for someone else to arrive.

And for a while, it feels like the front door doesn’t close, a slew of family members coming in left and right. First, it was Aunt Maggie. Then it was Laura with her husband, Rafael, and their kids, Sofia, Anthony (who insists you call him Tony), and Marcelo, Frankie’s favorite. And Frankie wasn’t lying about Marcelo being his favorite, his eyes practically lit up the moment Laura walked in the door, carrying him on her hip. After Laura’s family, Uncle Tommy and Cousin Ben came. Frankie’s arm around your waist tightened when Ben looked you up and down which made your heart do somersaults. Aunt Linda followed soon after. And finally, last but not least, Isabel and Aurora (who goes by Roro) arrived.

Somewhere in between all of the commotion Rosa returned downstairs. And you’re left with your head spinning, trying to keep track of everyone’s names and trying to make a good first impression. And you think you succeeded? Laura and her kids are really nice. Marcelo’s been hanging off you and Frankie since he set foot in the door. Isabel is definitely the coolest Morales sister out of the three of them. You don’t really have any complaints about Frankie’s aunts. And Uncle Tommy’s been dozing off on the couch, reminding everyone to wake him up when it’s time for dinner. You don’t mind Ben at all but he definitely has a little crush on you. You don’t spend too much time talking to him, just enough to learn he teaches high school English.

You also noticed that Isabel, Roro, Uncle Tommy, Ben, and his brother-in-law all call him Frankie and not Francisco. But his mom, Ria, Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Linda call him Francisco. And to the nieces and nephews, he’s Uncle Frankie of course.

Eventually, Rosa announces that it’s time for dinner. Frankie and Ben set up a small folding table for the kids, except for Marcelo who sits on Laura’s lap. You sit in between Frankie and Isabel. Rosa sits at the head of the table and before everyone digs in she says, “Now who would like to say grace?”

“I will,” Tony says, raising his hand from the kids' table.

“Go ahead,” Rosa says.

“Grace. Okay, we’re done. Let’s eat, everybody!”

Everyone shares a laugh and Rosa decides, “You know what? It’s good enough for me!”

The rest of Christmas Eve goes smoothly. After dinner, you help the adults clean up before bringing out the gingerbread cookies to decorate. All of the kids, even Luna and Camila, sit around the table with you, decorating the cookies with your makeshift piping bags. Ria takes a picture of you guys, brows furrowed in concentration as you all try to make the cookies absolutely perfect.

“Aren’t you gonna do one?” you ask Frankie, who’s standing beside you and watching.

“Sure,” he says, pulling up a chair.

He grabs a gingerbread woman and begins to draw a face on her. But before he’s done he gives her a frown and angry eyebrows, holding it up and saying, “Look! It’s you when I don’t mow the lawn!”

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, grabbing your own gingerbread man and giving him not only angry eyebrows but a yellow blob in his hand.

“Look! It’s you when you complain about free lemons.”

The kids laugh even though they don’t know the full context of the joke. But once the last cookie is decorated, people begin to head out, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and saying goodnight. Once the main level is cleaned up you and Frankie say goodnight to his mom. She tells you that Christmas dinner is at Ria’s and that it starts at two.

With that, you’re off to bed, returning to your rightful place of being spooned by Frankie. And for once, the two of you are alone again. Your mind goes back to Tom, what happened in Colombia, and Frankie’s drug addiction. You’re just gonna do it, rip the bandaid off

“Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Well, earlier your mom was talking about your friend Tom and what happened in Colombia… I know it’s not really my business but should I know what happened? You know to keep up the act-”

He sighs and you fear you’ve overstepped.

“I figured it was going to come up sooner or later.”

He pulls away to rest on his back, staring at the ceiling and recounting what happened. You lie on your back, too, looking over at him as he begins his story.

“A few years ago, I developed a really bad addiction to coke. And it cost me almost everything. I lost my pilot's license. Santiago approached me, Tom, Will, and Benny about going to Colombia to steal money from this drug lord, Lorea.”

“I see,” you comment, letting him continue.

“It seemed appealing at the time. I needed the money, you know?”

“I get it,” you say softly.

“The mission was a fucking shitshow. We took fucking two hundred and fifty million dollars and lost all of it. It was too heavy for the helicopter so we crash-landed in a cocaine farm. They thought we were DEA and Tom killed some of them. So then we had to pay them as some kind of reparation. We went through the Andes on mules and two of the villagers followed us. One of them shot Tom and we had to carry him, the rest of the money through the mountains. When we finally reached the coast, the getaway boat was there waiting for us but the town was filled whatever was left of Lorea’s crew. There was no way we could carry all that cash with Tom’s body and make it to the boat without being killed. So we had to dump most of it down a fucking ravine.”

He’s getting more and more upset as he tells his story. And you feel guilty you even asked in the first place. He didn’t need to tell you all the details. He could’ve said his friend Tom died on a military mission in Colombia and that would’ve been enough to quell your curiosity.

“Somehow we made it to the boat, but not without a fucking car chase and shootouts. By the end, we were left with a little over one million dollars each, but we decided to give it all to Tom’s family,” he says, finishing with a deep breath.

You roll onto your side and look over at him. He’s not crying but you can tell he’s visibly upset, his eyes misty.

“Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s hard to recount a traumatic experience like that.”

“It’s okay. Figured you should probably know. My family thinks it was some sort of mission for the Army, not that we went rogue. I don’t want them to know the true nature of what it was… greed.”

“Understandable.”

“So after all that I came home with a dead friend and no money.”

“I guess the overgrown lawn and the constant partying make sense now.”

That actually gets him to laugh.

“I guess it does,” he chuckles, “But thanks for putting up with me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“And thanks for coming here and doing this for me. That happened two years ago and my family has been worried sick about me since. Whenever my mom calls me I just… I just lie. I think if she saw how I was doing now it would break her heart. But here with you, she thinks you’re like my saving grace.”

You don’t say anything because you really don’t know what to say. It’s nice his mother feels that way, but it’s all a lie.

“I know that was a lot…” he says.

“You’re okay. I’m here to listen,” you reassure him.

“You should probably get some sleep. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with my family for another day.”

“Okay,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side. Frankie spoons you again like he always does. This time you don’t feel something hard against your lower back, instead you feel Frankie’s breath by your ear.

“Thank you,” he whispers, holding you a little tighter as he falls asleep.

You wake up to Frankie still holding you just as tight. You’ve never had a Christmas like this, one so peaceful.

And then it hits you… it’s Christmas. Which means you need presents, something you completely forgot all about. You were too wrapped up in pretending to be Frankie’s girlfriend.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

Has he been awake this whole time? And still holding you just as tight…

Whatever, worry about that later.

“I forget to get everyone fucking presents.”

“Already took care of it.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he says, propping his elbow on the pillow and looking down at you, “You’ve never met them before. How could you get presents for people you don’t even know?”

“Right,” you say, lying on your back.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiles.

“Merry Christmas,” you respond.

“Let’s go exchange with my mom.”

You roll out of bed first and let him grab the presents from his suitcase.

“What did I get her?”

“A sweater. It’s her favorite color.”

“Ooh, good idea.”

He hands you the present and it’s wrapped like a typical guy would wrap it.

“I’m telling her you wrapped it.”

“Oh, she’ll be able to tell,” he laughs.

You follow him down the stairs where his mother is sitting on the couch watching a Hallmark movie. She smiles and wishes you a Merry Christmas when she sees you, grabbing presents from under the tree.

You give her the present “you” got her and she clocks Frankie’s wrapping job right away.

“I can tell Francisco wrapped this,” she chuckles, unwrapping the gift and opening the box. She tells you she loves it and pulls you in for a big hug. Even though you didn’t actually buy the gift, you can’t help but appreciate the sense of approval. Your mom would’ve criticized whatever you got her, no matter how great the gift was.

Rosa got Frankie a wallet with his initials engraved in the leather. She got you an apron with your name embroidered on it. Both presents were very thoughtful and as she’s pulling out the photo albums like she promised the other day, Frankie whispers in your ear, “She’s big on getting things personalized.”

The three of you spend the rest of the morning looking at photo albums until it’s time to get ready to go to Ria’s. For once, Frankie can’t wait to jump in the shower, anything to get away from the “embarrassing” pictures his mom is showing you.

Once the three of you are ready you drive to Ria’s in Frankie’s truck, with the gifts piled in the back seat. He parks on the street and you head inside to the already bustling house. Everyone shouts “Feliz Navidad” as you’re taking off your shoes before joining them at the table.

The menu for Christmas dinner is empanadillas, tostones, pernil, and arroz con gandules. And for dessert, there’s tembleque, the gingerbread cookies you and the kids decorated, and of course, the lemon bars.

Christmas Day goes even better than Christmas Eve. All of the presents got for you to give to his family were a hit, but not without a sly comment from Frankie.

“You know… She did have some help,” he says with a smirk and a wink.

That earned him a smack on the arm.

Eventually, the evening is winding down. The kids are sitting under the tree playing with their toys and the adults are scattered around the house. For once, there’s no one paying attention to you two.

“Come with me,” Frankie says, getting off the couch and grabbing his coat.

“Where are we going?”

“For a walk,” he says.

You follow him to the front door, slipping on your shoes and coat. The two of you walk side by side on the sidewalk. It’s silent between you two but it’s a comfortable silence. But as you stop underneath a streetlamp, Frankie says, “I have something for you.”

“Frankie! You didn’t have to.”

“No, I really did. And I wanted to. It’s not just a Christmas present but it’s also a thank you for doing this for me… And also an apology for being a shitty neighbor,” he chuckles.

He pulls out a box from his coat pocket and hands it to you. You lift the lid to reveal a gold chain with a pendant, and a lemon stamped into the metal.

“Aw, Frankie… This is so sweet.”

“Look at the back,” he says softly.

You flip over the pendant and engraved on the back is your street name, Magnolia Drive. You look back at Frankie and his face is nervous, as if he’s waiting for your approval. His brow furrowed, his face dimly lit under the streetlamp, and his curls peeking out under his stupid fucking hat. All you can do at that moment is kiss him. He’s shocked for a second but it doesn’t take long for him to melt into your touch and wrap his arms around you.

He pulls away for a second to ask, “I take it you like it?”

“I love it, Frankie,” you nod, leaning in for a kiss again.

And for a moment you two stay there, holding each other under the streetlamp on Christmas night.

“I didn’t get you a present,” you admit, resting your head against his chest.

“You already did. You did me a huge favor. It’s a lot to deal with my family.”

“I didn't just deal with them. I liked being with them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, like you said before, they’re nothing like you.”

“Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss.

After a while he says, “We should probably get back.”

You nod and follow him back to Ria’s house where you bid your goodbyes to everyone and head back to Rosa’s for the night. She turns in early and now it’s just you and Frankie alone again. But being alone with him feels different this time. Not only because you just kissed but also because you think… you have feelings for him. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit talking or how vulnerable he was last night, but you have to admit to yourself that Frankie Morales is not only a cute man but a man you misjudged this whole time.

Once you’re back upstairs to Frankie’s room, you’re sitting side by side on his bed. The silence is back and you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have kissed him earlier. Maybe all you are to him is someone who did him a favor, someone who’s just his neighbor and nothing more.

“I’m sorry about the kiss. I-”

“You’re sorry?”

“Well yeah, I-”

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, cariño.”

“How long?”

“Soon after you moved in next door.”

“Really? I thought you hated me.”

“No, I never did. I just liked pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re irritated.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, in disbelief at what he’s saying.

“Even when you were with Heather?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that why you were so jealous of Benny at your birthday party?”

“...Maybe,”

“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re jealous,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.

This time the kiss is needier, and more passionate, like you can’t get enough of each other’s touch, scent, and taste. His hands caress either side of your face as his body leans into you more, coaxing you to lie down on his bed. His mouth leaves yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck. Your breath hitches as he nips at your skin, immediately licking the bruised skin afterward. He moves down lower, lips moving along your collarbone, until he’s completely kneeling on the floor in front of his bed. His hands hook around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off in one clean motion before going to remove your panties.

“Frankie?” you ask, resting on your elbows and looking down at him.

“Yeah?”

“What about like… your mom?”

“She sleeps like a rock,” he says bluntly, returning to what he was doing before.

He pulls off your panties and spreads your legs, looking at how wet your cunt is already.

“Mm, so wet for me, cariño,” he muses, his warm breath tickling your core.

Before you can respond, he licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you breathe out, eliciting a chuckle from him.

He goes back in for another, licking up and down your entrance slow, enough to drive you crazy. And then, he moves to your clit, tongue swirling around it as your back arches up off the bed. He hooks his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he gets to work, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue licks your cunt. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, his face taught against your cunt as you do so.

Once you’re done, he rests his head against your inner thigh, admitting the mess he just made. The lower half of his face is soaked, his patchy facial hair glistening. He returns back to your cunt for one more lap of his tongue, just to taste you one more time before rising from the floor and taking off his clothes. You sit up and take off your sweater and your bra, tossing them on the floor and lying back down. You inch up a little higher on the bed to make room for him as he hovers over you.

“I have a confession to make,” he says, looking down at you with a sly grin.

“Oh??”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked.”

“Uhh-”

“Your bathroom window faces mine.”

“...It does?”

“Mhm. Saw you drying off one day.”

“Oh yeah? And then what?”

He bends down and whispers in your ear, “Jerked off in the shower to the thought of you.”

Your whole body shudders.

“Touch me, Frankie, please,” you whine.

“Are you begging, cariño?”

“Fuck. Yes, I am,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. His other hand gathers some of your releases and strokes his cock, getting extra hard before sliding inside you, all while he plays with your nipple. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his length stretch your walls; feeling like you’re being split apart.

“You can take it,” he softly commands, bringing his face away from your ear and looking into your eyes again. He studies the expression on your face; the open mouth and the tears in the corners of your eyes, and his lips curve into a smirk. He draws his hips back and thrusts into you again, your cunt feeling completely full. Your soft moans are like music to his ears but he needs to hear more, not necessarily more sounds but a confession from you, too.

“Be honest, cariño. You’ve thought about fucking me too, haven’t you?”

It’s actually insane that this is the same sweet man who gave you the most thoughtful Christmas present earlier tonight. The same man who confessed to jerking off in the shower after seeing you naked.

“Y-yes…” you confess.

“What was that? Didn’t hear you,” he says as his hand to your other breast, taking your nipple in between his fingertips.

“Fuck, Frankie yes, I’ve thought about it.”

“When?” he presses further, keeping the same pace with his thrusts.

“All the time. Even when you piss me off.”

“Knew it,” he teases, slamming his hips back into you. He rests his elbows on the other side of your head, face to face with you as he fucks you relentlessly.

“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Let me feel it, cariño,” he says, studying your face again.

You close your eyes as you cum but that just won’t do for him. He wants you to look directly into the eyes of the man who made a mess of you.

“Look at me,” he softly commands.

You open your eyes, locking with his as you cum around his cock, feeling your walls flutter and pulsate in rhythmic patterns.

“Good girl,” he praises, thrusting into you one final time before coming, too. He paints your insides with his cum before pulling out of you and lying down on the bed. You roll over and situate yourself in the crook of his neck, resting your hand on his chest.

“You’re amazing,” he says, taking the his hat off his head and propping it on the bed post before wrapping his arm around you. There’s his sweet side again.

“I can’t believe you saw me naked,” you tease, still sort of in disbelief.

“Two times now. It’s a Christmas miracle,” he jokes.

You have to agree with him. He feels you twitch against him and he whispers, “Goodnight. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper back, letting sleep consume you.

New Year’s Eve

You’re spending New Year’s Eve at a bar with some of Frankie’s friends from high school. Ever since the night you got together, you’ve been leaning into the girlfriend role more, feeling like it’s not a charade anymore. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he welcomes it. This is what the two of you wanted all along, even if both of you didn’t know it.

You’re watching the ball drop in New York City on the TV at the bar with Frankie’s arm snaked around your waist. As the clock strikes midnight, you kiss, feeling like you’re starting the year off right for once.

“Look at you,” you whisper against his lips, “Ending the year in a fake relationship and starting the new year in a real one.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispers back.

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction

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punkshort · 2 months

Text

i know who you are | 4. the others

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Winter begins to wrap its arms around Jackson, filling the town with snow and a nasty flu. Joel takes you to meet Ben and Lisa, and you finally discover more about your past.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, amnesia, sad!joel, pining, sexual tension, slow burn, jealousy

WC: 9K

Series Masterlist

You looked happy.

Ever since you began working at the infirmary, you seemed happier. Like you were grateful to have a purpose. A way to contribute. To give back to the community that supported you.

You smiled more and you didn't shy away from him as much as you used to and it gave Joel hope. Every time you saw him and greeted him with a smile or said goodbye with a squeeze of his shoulder, it made his heart flutter. It's been weeks. Months, technically. But he was making some progress.

It was the first snowfall of the season and it put you in an even better mood than usual. Your face was pressed up against the window as he tended to the fire behind you, and you watched as the big, fluffy flakes of snow fell from the sky, coating Jackson in a perfect blanket of pure white.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from," you told him over your shoulder. He knew that already, but he humored you.

"That so?"

"Mhmm. When I was a kid, though, we got hit with this freak storm. No one knew what to do. No one owned shovels or snow blowers or any of that, so we were all stuck inside our houses until the storm ended and everything melted," you said, turning away from the window so you could curl up on the couch, then pausing for a moment before tilting your head to the side. "Did I tell you this already?"

Yes, he thought, but he shook his head, eager for you to continue. He just loved hearing you talk, no matter what you said. Besides, if you were expected to rebuild your relationship, sharing your past would naturally be part of that, so he encouraged you to tell stories, even if he's heard them before.

"So, what happened?" he asked, putting the poker back in the stand and getting up with a groan, his knees cracking a bit before he settled in on the other end of the couch.

"Well, the power went out," you said, and he could hear the excitement in your voice, delighted to be telling him something you thought he didn't already know, and it made his heart swell. "So we didn't have any heat or any way to cook our food. We set up camping tents in the middle of our living room and slept in there with, like, five blankets each. And we lived off pop-tarts and granola bars and peanut butter sandwiches for two days til the power came back on."

"Two days?" Joel repeated, and you nodded.

"Yeah, but it was fun. As a kid, you know? I'm sure my parents were freaking out but me and Matty were excited. We played board games and ate by candlelight and told ghost stories," you said wistfully, your eyes looking miles away. "We talked about that for years," you finished softly, and Joel smiled.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from, either," he told you, and your eyes met his again.

"Texas, right?" and he nodded. "Did you live there your whole life?"

Something deep inside him sparked with a mix of nerves and excitement. It felt like you were meeting all over again, and while it was under less than ideal circumstances, he couldn't help but feel those butterflies you feel when you first meet someone new.

"Yep, my whole life. Tommy, too, except for when he was in the army."

"Were you in the army?" you asked, but he quickly shook his head.

"Nah. Wasn't my scene. Besides, I had Sarah."

"Oh, right," you said, feeling stupid for asking. You dropped your attention to your hands, which were twisted in your lap, as you thought about your next question.

"How old was she?" you asked quietly, still looking down and avoiding his gaze, but you heard him take a deep breath.

"She was twelve when she died," he told you, his words hanging heavy in the air and he could see the conflict in your face as you tried to figure out a way to learn more about him without reopening old wounds. "It's okay, I don't mind talkin' 'bout her."

"Did we used to talk about her?" you asked him curiously, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But not at first. Still hurt too much back then, y'know?"

"Yeah," you breathed, your mind now drifting to thoughts of your own family. Were you together when they died? Did you see it? If so, was it some sort of sick twist of luck that you now couldn't remember?

"What was your favorite thing to do together?" you asked, watching as his eyes found a fixed point on the wall while he considered your question.

"My favorite thing was hiking. Hers was goin' to the movies or the mall, most likely," he said with a soft chuckle. "I didn't mind, though. I was just happy she still wanted to be seen with her old man at that age. Makes me wonder if she felt bad for me or somethin'."

You furrowed your brow, confused. "Why would she feel bad for you?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't date much. Had a few poker buddies but I mostly spent my time with Tommy. Just worked so hard back then that I was too tired to do much else."

"And you were a contractor?" you asked, trying to remember the small pieces of information you picked up over the last two months. He nodded.

"Yeah, me and Tommy had our own business. That was a lifetime ago. Can't imagine doin' that kind of work now, not with my back," he said with a smile.

Joel's eyes flicked to the window over your shoulder, watching as the snow continued to come down, the window panes growing foggy in the corners. "Looks like we ain't goin' anywhere for a while," he said, changing the subject. You followed his gaze and nodded.

"What about Ellie? Is she okay back there?"

"Yeah, she'll be alright. She could make it up to the house if she got too cold," he assured you.

So, you were essentially snowed in. All alone.

You could feel his eyes on you as you watched the fire and you wondered if he was thinking about an alternate reality. One where you didn't have an accident. Where you remembered everything. One where you loved him the way he so obviously loved you, and what you might be doing differently in that very moment. You had a feeling your hunch was correct because he stretched his arm across the back of the couch and subtly inched a little closer towards you, the worn cushions dipping from his weight and causing your leg to bob.

Your body stiffened and your heart suddenly felt like it was being crushed in your throat. He was so patient, you had to give him credit. It couldn't be easy for him, and although you could finally admit to yourself that you found him attractive, you still didn't think you trusted him enough to take things any further. Not yet. Not when you still had so many questions. Your eyes drifted up to meet his and as you expected, he was watching you closely. Carefully. Trying to read you the same way you were trying to read him. The problem was, every time he looked at you that way, with his eyes all soft and filled with adoration, you could only think about what he was hiding. What did he lie about? And why was he so hesitant for you to meet Ben and Lisa?

Joel leaned in a fraction and his fingers tightened their hold on the back of the couch. He wanted to kiss you. He's wanted to kiss you ever since that day in the field right before that clicker ruined the moment. And with the soft glow from the fire and the snow falling silently outside, it felt like the perfect moment. He was terrified of making things worse after he finally felt like he made some progress, but it was killing him. He missed having you so fucking much, sometimes it felt like it actually caused him physical pain. Like his chest would explode one day.

He swallowed nervously and inched a little closer and you panicked. Just as he was about to say something, you cut him off.

"Do you wanna play a board game?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you gave him a nervous smile.

"Sure," he replied, watching as you jumped off the couch to look through the games stacked on the bookcase. He groaned inwardly and rubbed his chin when you bent over and he had to force himself to look away before his body reacted, praying you didn't pick Twister.

It took two days but the snow finally stopped. Ellie did eventually make her way to the house by the second day, simply because she was bored, so you helped Joel make a vegetable soup while Ellie set up the Monopoly board in the living room. You didn't have all the pieces, but you had enough, and what you didn't have you supplemented with buttons.

You didn't realize it; too caught up in cooking and the joy it used to bring you, but you and Joel worked together seamlessly in the kitchen. He chopped up zucchini while you diced onion and watched the pot on the stove that was cooking up noodles, slipping past each other to get to the sink and the cupboards and it all just felt so fucking normal that it made his chest ache. He wanted to draw your attention to it. He wanted to take you by the shoulders and say See? See how good we are together? But he didn't. He bit his tongue and bided his time until you came to that conclusion on your own, just like the first time.

But the first time was different. At least back then, you showed him affection. You kissed him and held him and shared your body with him and although you didn't want much more, not at first, eventually you did. And those moments in his bed were enough to hold him over until you opened your eyes and saw what was right in front of you.

He was selfish. He knew it was wrong to want you like that right now, but he wanted all of you, not just physically. He yearned to know what was going on behind your eyes, what you were thinking and feeling. What you thought of him. But if you would maybe just let yourself fall asleep in his arms on the couch while you read in front of the fire, or let him kiss you, just once, then maybe you would see it again. Feel it again.

"What the hell does a purple button mean?" you asked with a giggle, holding up the smooth, round plastic between your fingers.

"It's a hotel, duh!" Ellie said, grinning and rolling her eyes.

"Wait, why am I goin' to jail?"

"You rolled doubles three times in a row!" you told him, and you and Ellie bent over laughing at the confused expression on his face.

He made a disgruntled noise and moved his token to the corner of the board as he watched you and Ellie giggling and wiping tears from your eyes and fuck, it was nice. In another world, he would have made some joke about you being the one in handcuffs and maybe later he would have followed through with it and tied your wrists to the headboard, burying his face between your thighs until you couldn't take it anymore.

But instead, he just watched two of the people he loved most in the world have fun, the orange glow from the fire flickering over your smiling faces while the snow finally came to a stop outside.

Ellie had trekked back to the garage once the game was over. It was late, you looked tired, but he still suggested putting a movie on. He wasn't ready to let you go. He hated going to bed all alone. You seemed to consider his offer for a moment before you shook your head and yawned, and although he knew that would likely be your answer, he still felt his heart sink.

He walked you to your bedroom and as he was about to say goodnight, hoping to minimize the hurt by making it quick, you did something that surprised him. You pulled him into a hug, standing on your tiptoes, your chin resting on his shoulder with your arms wrapped around his neck, body pressed firmly against his and just as quickly as it happened, you pulled away. Joel was so stunned he wasn't sure he hugged you back, even though he stood cemented to the floor well after you went to bed, replaying the hug over and over, all he could remember was how he felt. And he went to bed that night with renewed hope blooming in his chest. Maybe you were finally coming around.

So the next morning when you asked him out of the blue if you could visit Ben and Lisa once the streets cleared of snow, he had a hard time finding a reason to say no. He should have known you wouldn't let it go, but he did hold out hope that maybe you moved on from the idea since it had been a few weeks when you last mentioned them.

He agreed, of course, not wanting to ruin the delicate foundation of your relationship. Besides, he already decided he would go with you and make sure they didn't tell you anything you weren't ready to hear.

The snow had melted enough where the road was visible again, but the snowbanks still piled high around the buildings and houses and you felt strangely nervous as you followed Joel down the street. He had finally agreed to take you to meet Ben and Lisa, and while you were grateful he didn't have the reaction he had the first time you mentioned them, you still wondered what caused that outburst.

You tried to convince yourself that maybe he was just tired and cranky that day, having just gotten back from patrol for the fourth day in a row. But something still felt... off.

"Wow, when Ellie said they lived on the outskirts, she wasn't kidding," you said, realizing you were reaching an edge of Jackson you had yet to explore.

"Yeah, they tend to keep to themselves," he replied without further explanation. He didn't seem agitated, but he definitely wasn't happy about going to see them. He seemed more quiet and subdued than usual.

Finally, you arrived at a quaint looking cottage tucked back from the road a ways. Like Ellie had said, it was small, but it looked cozy. You could see the smoke pluming from the chimney and you couldn't wait to warm up again.

There was no porch. Just a small roof over the front door and a folding chair that looked like it had seen better days. He knocked firmly on the door and after a moment, you heard light shuffling on the other side.

The door cracked open and you were greeted by a short woman around your age with dull, brown hair and bright green eyes. She saw Joel first and, like most people in town, she hesitated. But then she noticed you next to him and her expression changed. A wide smile stretched across her face and she said your name softly, then held her arms out for a hug.

"It's so good to see you," she said in your ear, giving you a tight squeeze before turning around and ushering you both inside. "Come in, come in, it's freezing out there. Ben! You'll never guess who's here!"

You both stepped inside and as you were slipping off your outerwear, you glanced around the small space. It was tight, but it was filled with warmth. The living room had two small, mismatched loveseats on either side of the stone fireplace. Two large bookshelves that were filled with so many books that the shelves were sagging stood on either side of the fire, and curiously you didn't notice a television anywhere in the room.

You heard a man's deep voice behind you say your name and you jumped in surprise. Turning around, you were pulled into another hug by who you could only assume was Ben. He was tall - taller than Joel - and you wondered how on earth such a small house could fit such a large man. He stepped away, his dark eyes glittering with his hands still on your shoulders, taking in your appearance as if you haven't seen them in years.

Maybe you haven't.

You were so focused on absorbing every little detail about the house and its residents that you didn't notice Joel's body stiffen next to you, his eyes glued to Ben's hands. And while Lisa seemed to have the same reaction to Joel that everyone else in town did, Ben, on the other hand, did not seem phased by his presence. In fact, he appeared pleased to see him. Once he dropped his hands from your shoulders, he stretched out a lanky arm and shook Joel's hand, giving him a kind smile which Joel had a hard time returning.

"What a wonderful surprise. Come, let's sit. Do you want coffee or tea?" Ben asked, his eyes drifting between you and Joel. You both shook your heads and Ben smiled warmly at you once again. Even though the living room was just a few feet away from the front door, Ben still rested his hand on your shoulder and guided you to one of the loveseats as if you might lose your way, only dropping his hold on you when he sat down across from you on the other one.

Joel eased himself down on the couch beside you, the space so small that he had no choice but to rest his leg against yours, and Lisa went to join Ben, the crackling fire between both loveseats warming you up right away.

"We heard you had an accident. How are you feeling?" Lisa asked, her voice so small and gentle compared to Ben's booming baritone.

"Better, thanks. But it's kind of why I'm here," you said, glancing over at Joel nervously, but he was staring silently at Ben, who still seemed unaffected.

Lisa tilted her head to the side and wrapped a hand around Ben's forearm, leaning into him a bit as she got more comfortable on the couch. You noticed for the first time a basket on the floor next to her feet filled with different colored yarn and half knitted projects tucked inside. "Oh?" she asked, then it seemed to dawn on her. "Oh! Is it... is it true? Do you really have memory loss?"

When you nodded, you noticed the flicker of pity across both their faces as they exchanged a somber look.

"I can only remember my life before the outbreak. My mom, dad and brother. I don't even remember what happened or how they died or how I managed to survive," you began, feeling yourself growing a little emotional. Joel must have sensed it in your tone because he squeezed your knee reassuringly, and when you glanced over at him, he had finally torn his eyes away from Ben to look at you with concern.

"It's been hard," Joel said, finally speaking up, addressing Ben and Lisa. "Lots of confusion, lots of missin' pieces. But she kept a journal. Turns out, she wrote 'bout you two, so that's why we're here," he finished, narrowing his eyes a bit at them.

"You wrote about us? How sweet," Ben said cheerily, running a hand through his dark blonde curls.

"Yes, but-"

"It wasn't anythin' that detailed," Joel said quickly, and you frowned at him. He sat back into the sofa and glanced over at you. "Right?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, dragging your eyes away from Joel and back to your hosts. "Just that we went fishing and it felt like old times," you continued, and they both smiled at the memory. The only sound in the room was the fire next to you, the wood popping loudly under the flames as you weighed your next question. "So I was hoping you might help tell me about myself before we arrived in Jackson. Is that... okay?"

Lisa shifted in her seat, a small smile still twitching at her lips as she gazed up at Ben, waiting for him to reply. He hesitated a moment and you thought you saw his eyes flicker to Joel before responding.

"Of course," Ben said, slapping the tops of his thighs, jostling loose Lisa's grip on his arm. He quickly picked her hand back up and brought her knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss, but your eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar symbol tattooed on the inside of her wrist, only made visible when Ben picked up her arm and her sleeve hung down.

"Can you tell me about when we first met?" you asked, figuring you should start at the beginning.

"Oh, what was it? Six or eight months after the outbreak, yeah?" Ben wondered aloud, looking to Lisa to confirm. She nodded and scratched her neck.

"Sounds about right."

You allowed yourself to feel a glimmer of excitement. There were two people right in front of you that could help fill in the blanks for the first five years after the outbreak, and you couldn't wait to hear more.

"We met in the Atlanta QZ," he began, but you quickly stopped him.

"QZ?"

"Quarantine Zone. All the major cities had 'em. Was meant to keep people safe from infected but the military ran most of 'em into the ground," Joel explained. "Treated people like cattle. Strict curfews. Barely enough rations to survive."

"It was awful," Lisa added solemnly.

"Was I alone?" you asked them, and Ben nodded. "Did I tell you anything about my family? How they died?"

Their eyes shifted to Joel for a moment before looking at one another.

"I thought you had said the infected got your mom on the first day. But your dad and brother..." Ben trailed off, looking down at his hands sadly. "They got caught out after curfew. It happened before we got there. They... were punished."

You frowned a little, looking to Joel to help shed some light on what Ben meant, but he was staring down at his feet.

"Punished?" you squeaked as your heart began to pound faster in your chest.

"Punishment for bein' out after curfew was death," Joel spoke up softly next to you.

You looked at all three of them, your eyes wide in disbelief. "Death? The military were killing people?"

"It was horrible. It's why we escaped," Lisa replied with tears in her eyes.

"Okay, then what?" you pressed, trying not to dwell too long on the thought of your father and brother being murdered by the very people who were supposed to protect them.

"After we escaped?" Ben clarified, and you nodded. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "We survived. Did what we had to do."

There it was again. Did what we had to do. The same thing Joel said when you brought up Lisa and Ben the first time.

You waited for him to elaborate but when it became apparent Ben had finished talking, you pushed him further. "Like what? What does that mean?"

"We laid low. Found some secluded spots in the wilderness and stuck it out for as long as we could," Lisa said, her eyes casually drifting between the two men. You looked at Joel, who was holding a steady glare at Ben and Lisa, but otherwise he was perfectly silent.

"For five years we just laid low? In the woods? The three of us?" you asked, and they could tell you knew they weren't telling you the whole truth. "What aren't you telling me? Did we do something bad? Did something happen?"

Joel shifted in his seat next to you but you kept your eyes pinned on Lisa and Ben, trying to read the expressions on their faces.

Ben was the first to fold. He dragged his eyes up to meet yours and gave you a half smile and shrug. "Yeah. I mean, everyone did bad things one time or another. It's impossible not to-"

"Like what?" you demanded. You could feel your anger building up now. "I'm not a child. Just tell me."

Ben sighed and looked at Joel once again, and this time you had enough.

"Why do you keep looking at him?"

Ben's eyes snapped back to you and he forced out a small chuckle, trying in vain to diffuse the tension in the room.

"You're our guests, so I'm looking at you both."

You weren't going to argue with him when it was clear he was looking at Joel for direction on what to say. It all made sense now. No wonder Joel didn't fight you on coming to visit them. He had planned all along to control the conversation and keep you in the dark and something inside you snapped.

Standing up from the couch suddenly, you looked down at Ben and Lisa, anger brimming in your eyes.

"Thanks," you spat, heading towards the front door. "Sorry to bother you both."

"It's no bother," Lisa said, her voice wavering as she followed you to the door. "Really. Stop by any time, it was nice to see you."

You scoffed and resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you shoved your boots and coat back on, doing your best to finish before Joel so you could get a head start back home.

Flinging open the door without another word, you took a deep breath and stormed down the street, the chilly winter air filling your lungs, trying to cool your anger from the inside out. But then you heard Joel's heavy footsteps crunching in the snow, hurrying to catch up to you, and your rage peaked again.

"You alright?" he asked when he found his place back by your side.

"No, I'm not alright," you seethed, staring straight ahead with your arms wrapped around your middle. "What was that back there?"

"What'dya mean?"

You skidded to a stop and glared at him, his cheeks pink from the cold and his chest rising and falling a little quicker than usual.

"You know what I mean. I'm not stupid, Joel. What don't you want me to know?"

He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out how to respond.

"I'm not-"

"Don't bullshit me!" you yelled, and when you remembered you were in the middle of the street, you lowered your voice. "They were clearly scared of you. You didn't want them to tell me something. It was so obvious, Joel! I hit my head but I'm not fucking blind."

"I didn't ask them to say or not say anythin'," he said truthfully.

You stared at one another, both watching as your exhale mixed together, little clouds swirling in between you before rising above your heads and disappearing, each waiting for the other to break first.

"Maybe I should move out," you finally said, voice filled with sadness. His face fell instantly.

"Why?"

"You know why. I don't think I can trust you. How can I, when I can't even get a simple answer out of you?" What did he lie about?

If you had stabbed him in the chest, it would have hurt less. His gaze fell to the ground and he felt his throat begin to constrict. He had to do something. He couldn't lose you. So he told you a half truth.

"You and Ben used to be a thing," he said, and your jaw dropped in surprise.

"What?"

He clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. "Before you came to Jackson. You and him were a couple."

You looked away from him, taking a minute to wrap your mind around what he just told you. You supposed it would make sense. It would explain why Joel was so weird about bringing you to see them. Maybe you misread the tension in the room. Maybe the tension was about something else entirely.

"That's why you were acting so strange? That's why you were staring him down?" you asked. His answer was still difficult to believe. It explained Joel's behavior, but it didn't explain what bad things you had done and why nobody seemed willing to tell you what they were.

He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. "Can we talk about this at home? I'm freezin'," he said.

The walk afforded you more time to think now that you had this new piece of the puzzle. Ben did seem like your type: he was handsome and kind, but if you and Ben were together in the past, where did that leave Lisa? They were clearly an item now. Wouldn't that have made for a strange relationship between the three of you? Perhaps that's why you didn't see them often.

Joel let you stew in silence for the walk home, fucking praying what he told you would be enough to keep you from following through with your threat. Why did it feel like every time he made some progress with you, something happened that fucked everything up?

Maybe he should have just let them tell you the whole truth.

No, that would have been bad. You didn't trust him enough yet. You said it yourself. And if you were willing to move out over something like this, you certainly would never speak to him again if you knew the whole story.

He needed to earn your trust first but it was so fucking hard when you wouldn't let him in. When you found out the truth the first time, you were already months into a relationship with him. You were already sleeping together, and while it didn't evolve into anything more until later, it still helped build your trust in him when he finally told you the truth.

He didn't have that with you now, and for the first time he began to doubt his ability to make you fall in love with him again.

You huddled in front of the fire after the long walk home, the two of you remaining silent the entire way. Joel was in the kitchen, most likely avoiding you and your questions while you warmed up. You weren't even going to bother bringing up the topic again, but Joel surprised you by doing it himself.

"I'm sorry. 'Bout earlier," he said from the entryway. You turned from the fire to look at him. He looked worried. His eyes were wide and his brow was knit while his hands fidgeted at his sides.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you asked, and he sighed.

"Dunno. Guess I was hopin' you'd let it go or change your mind," he said, ticking his jaw to the side.

"What would it have even mattered? I don't remember him, I don't remember what we had together. I certainly don't have feelings for him," you told him, sitting down on the couch and tucking your legs underneath you.

He looked around the room nervously as you waited for an answer that wasn't coming.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "If this is going to work, you need to be honest with me-"

"I was scared, alright?" he said abruptly. You watched him hang his head between his shoulders and take a deep breath before collapsing into the arm chair next to the couch. "I was scared you'd maybe remember him or..." he trailed off, finding it difficult to put into words what he was thinking. And although it wasn't the whole truth, it still was the truth. He was afraid this version of you would want someone like Ben and not like him.

He was afraid of losing you.

You seemed to understand because you didn't ask him to finish his thought. Instead, since he was opening up, you asked him something else that was bothering you.

"What did I do?"

He looked at you curiously, not following at first until you continued.

"Ben said I did bad things. We all did bad things to survive. What did he mean?"

Joel swallowed and thought about his answer for a moment. You sighed, growing impatient.

"You can't keep the truth from me forever. I'll find out one day, just tell -"

"You killed people," he told you, and you completely lost your train of thought. You searched his face as all of the air rushed out of your lungs, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

"I killed people?" you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, and he nodded slowly. You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes but you blinked them away. What kind of monster did you become?

"Innocent people?"

"Depends on who you ask," he said right away, almost as if he expected that question.

"What does that mean?"

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he stared into the fire. "I told you. Everyone did what they had to do in order to survive. I know it's hard for you to understand what it was like, but there were a lot of bad people out there. A lot of bad fuckin' people. The military was outta control. There were revolutions and raiders and slavers." He paused and sniffed a bit, continuing to stare into the flames while you hung on his every word. "When I say you killed people... it ain't black and white. I killed people, too. Alotta people. When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em. D'you understand?" he asked, finally dragging his eyes up to look at you.

You blinked, thinking about what he said, his words rolling around your head like pinballs.

"I think so," you said quietly.

He nodded, still pinning you with his stare. "We all made decisions. We made choices based on what we knew at the time and we did our best."

You nodded, your voice wavering a bit when you asked "Am I a bad person, Joel?"

His eyebrows pinched together and he leaned forward in his chair, wanting to reach out to you, comfort you and pull you into his arms, but he refrained. "No, baby. You ain't a bad person," he told you softly.

And you weren't sure why, but you believed him.

The streets were quiet as you slowly made your way to the infirmary. You didn't start your shift until late in the morning and you didn't feel like joining Ellie at the dining hall for breakfast, so you stayed home, only getting out of bed when you heard Joel leave for patrol. He had already warned you the night before that he would be back later than usual due to the storm. Trails would likely be difficult to pass and nobody could predict if there would be damage at any of the outposts, but it was highly likely.

You didn't move out like you had threatened to. You didn't even know what you were thinking when you said that. Where would you have gone? The garage with Ellie? You didn't know anybody else. Not really. But even if you had, you saw the look in Joel's face when you said those words and even though you were so fucking angry with him, you still felt terrible for causing him pain.

On one hand, it seemed like he was just looking out for you, but on the other, his actions often came off as selfish. You had every right to know your past and what you did, and you were growing sick of Joel treating you like a child. Like you were too fragile to understand.

But at least you got it out of him. Even though you had to take extreme measures, you finally got him to tell you something truthful, and that was a positive step forward.

Lost in your thoughts, you weren't even paying attention when a man's voice called your name from across the street. You looked up after the third try and were surprised to find Ben waving to you from the tailor. You raised your hand in greeting and made your way over to the building.

"Hey," you said a little sheepishly, "about the other day, I'm sorry for how I acted-"

He shook his head and gave you a reassuring smile. "No need to apologize. All of this has to be so confusing for you. We understand."

You dropped your gaze to the frozen ground and dug your boot into the snow. "Thank you, I appreciate that. It's very frustrating, actually. I'm just trying to learn about myself and what's happened in the past ten years and I guess I took out my anger on you guys."

He waved you off and leaned against the doorframe of the tailor. "Don't worry about it. We were just happy to see you again."

And even though Ben was absolving you of your guilt, you somehow felt even worse. He was being so nice and you hardly felt like you deserved it. "Joel explained it to me, by the way. After we left your house he told me about us," you said, waving your finger back and forth between you.

"Ah," Ben said with a knowing smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I wondered as much. It was a very long time ago but Joel can be..." Ben trailed off and scratched his chin, "he can be a little protective, I suppose. He never really understood the nature our relationship."

You tilted your head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"It was just casual. He always thought there was something more," Ben said, meeting your eye. "But I promise you, there wasn't. At the time, we were just lonely and scared and looking for comfort. Neither of us was looking for anything more than that."

You nodded thoughtfully. "He did say we were a couple," you said, and Ben chuckled softly.

"I wouldn't even call it that. Truly. There were no hurt feelings. We just never had a connection past... y'know," he said with a shrug. You felt yourself flush a bit at the words he left unspoken and looked away. "But I'm glad he told you."

"Yeah, me too. I know his heart is in the right place, I just wish he would have told me about us and all the shit we did before I came to see you. Probably would have made the visit a little more pleasant," you said with a laugh, but Ben's face fell.

"He told you about what we did?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious. You sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, he told me I've killed people. It's been really hard to wrap my head around, but I'm trying to come to terms with it. He explained the world we live in now is not like the one I remember."

Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise and unfolded his arms. "Wow. I'm kind of shocked he told you about us and the Fireflies. That must have been really hard for you both."

You frowned and searched his face. "Fireflies?"

His body stiffened and his face paled when he realized his mistake. "Yeah. He told you about the Fireflies, right?"

You shook your head. "What are the Fireflies?"

"Shit," he muttered, pushing himself off the wall abruptly and clearing his throat. "I should get back to work. Just please forget I said anything, okay?"

"Ben, wait," you tried, but he disappeared back inside the tailor, leaving you standing in front of the door while more questions piled up.

There seemed to be a bad flu being spread around town because the infirmary was busier than usual. You were grateful for the distraction, especially after your conversation with Ben. You had spent the better part of the afternoon rushing from exam room to exam room, cleaning up after each patient as quickly as you could so Nick could continue treating the revolving door of people coughing and sneezing in the waiting room. Nick had recommended you wear a bandana around your mouth and nose to hopefully keep you healthy, but you had a feeling it would just be a matter of time before you caught the same bug as everyone else. Still, you kept the bandana tied around your neck as you worked diligently. What you didn't expect, however, was the bit of anonymity the mask afforded you.

You were cleaning up exam room six when you heard a woman's familiar voice in the room across the hall. Nick had left the door cracked open after he ushered her inside, and she apparently had another woman in there waiting with her as you started to pick up on hushed pieces of their conversation.

You didn't intend to eavesdrop, but curiosity got the best of you when you tried to place her voice, and when you realized it was Angie, your hands froze and your body stilled, doing your best to not make any noise so you could listen.

"... going down there almost every night... matter of time... him."

"But what about... freak out."

You frowned, inching closer to the door as you tried to fill in the gaps in their conversation.

Then you heard Angie say your name clear as day and your eyebrows shot up. You pressed your back against the wall and held your breath.

"She doesn't even like him. That relationship is a ticking time bomb."

You silently gasped when you realized they were most certainly talking about you and Joel.

It wasn't even true. You liked Joel. You were attracted to Joel. You were even starting to trust Joel a little more, although you definitely had plans to ask him about the Fireflies. But you were still getting to know him and it was taking time. Was this girl talking about trying to steal Joel away from you? The idea made your stomach turn and anger flare deep in your chest.

You shocked yourself with your reaction. Steal Joel away? Since when did you begin to feel some sense of ownership over him? Were you jealous?

You heard Nick's voice leaving an exam room a few doors down and you quickly made yourself look busy. He sighed tiredly in the hallway as he flipped through some papers before pushing open the door to Angie's room. You were changing the bedding on the mattress when you heard Nick call your name and you quickly dropped the sheets to cross the hall.

When your eyes locked with Angie's, giving her a hardened stare, you swore you saw a flicker of fear before she forced a fake smile and coughed into her fist while her friend, one you recognized from the bathroom at the Tipsy Bison, nervously shifted her weight and looked away. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction when it became clear to the two girls that you had heard everything they said, and you were grateful you had your mask on so they couldn't see the corners of your mouth twitch.

"Would you mind grabbing a bag of cough drops and a jar of menthol from the supply cabinet?" Nick asked, completely oblivious to the shift in the air.

"Sure thing," you told him, turning on your heel to leave and allowing yourself to finally smile.

Joel might scare the rest of the town, but you sure as hell scared the shit out of Angie.

Your shift at the infirmary went longer than expected. By the time you arrived home, you were exhausted and the sun was almost setting. So far you weren't feeling sick, but from what you had overheard all day, the symptoms came on quick, so you had already decided to call it an early night and get some rest. When you swung open the front door and found Joel hunched over the kitchen table, your plans went flying out the window.

He looked like he was on death's door. You had never seen him look so run down and pale. He didn't even open his eyes to look at you, he just kept them shut while he rubbed his temples and tried to stifle a cough, his backpack abandoned at his feet.

"Joel?" you called, toeing off your boots and hurrying over to him. You crouched down on the floor and pressed the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're burning up."

He groaned and cracked open one eye. "Feel like shit. Dunno what happened."

"There's a bad virus spreading around, the infirmary was slammed today," you said, pushing yourself up onto your aching feet to get him a glass of water. "Drink this and I'll heat you up some soup," you told him before heading towards the stove.

"You don't gotta-"

"Drink," you said firmly, cutting him off. He winced before picking up the glass and forcing down the cool liquid. Once you got the gas going on the stove, you grabbed an empty bowl and shoved your boots back on. "I'll be right back," you told him. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, about to ask where you were going but you already disappeared through the front door, returning seconds later with the bowl filled with snow.

"Lean back," you instructed, placing the bowl on the table. He did as he was told and closed his eyes, the lights from the kitchen ceiling making his head ache but when you pressed a handful of packed snow against his forehead, he groaned with relief.

"Oh shit, that feels good," he whispered as you tried to ignore the twinge between your legs at his low tone. He released a shaky breath and you watched as the snow began to melt, little trails of water dripping from his hair and down his scruffy cheeks. When it was nearly melted, you took your hand away and dumped the remnants in the sink, grabbing a towel and drying your hands on the way back. You pinched his stubbly chin delicately in your fingers and tipped his head towards you while slowly and gently wiping away the water from his face. When you finished, your eyes found his already boring into you and you felt a tingle shoot down your spine.

"Better?"

His gaze softened as he continued to stare up at you, searching your face quietly, making your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. You swallowed nervously and forced yourself to look away, and it was then he finally realized you had asked him a question.

"Yes," he murmured, "thank you."

You dragged your eyes back to his and gave him a small smile. "More?"

He didn't trust himself to speak. He just slowly nodded and watched with heavy lidded eyes as you scooped up another handful of snow. With your free hand, you slid your fingers behind his neck and through his hair, cupping the back of his head in your small hand before pressing the snow gently against his forehead once again. And even though he wanted to keep looking at you, he couldn't stop his eyes from fluttering shut at the cooling sensation, earning you another deep groan from his throat and causing your breath to stutter.

He heard it and opened his eyes.

You stared at each other, lips parted as the air began to thicken with tension. His eyes flickered over your face, noticing the way your pupils appeared bigger as you gazed down at him. He took a risk and slowly brought his hand up to rest on your side, watching you carefully for any sign that he should stop. He pressed his fingertips lightly into your hip, the fabric of your shirt bunching up slightly from the pressure.

You dropped your eyes to his hand and blinked rapidly, then opened your mouth to speak when you heard sizzling at the stove. You whipped your head around just as his soup began to boil over the pot.

"Shit!" you yelped, dropping the half melted snow onto the towel and racing over to the range. You twisted the knob off and put the pot on one of the unused burners and the liquid immediately simmered back down. "Sorry," you said, refusing to look at him as you started to gather a bowl and spoon, embarrassment burning your cheeks.

"Don't be," he replied, still leaning back in his chair in the same position you left him. He watched you fumble nervously in the kitchen and he had to suppress a smile.

Maybe he still had a chance, after all.

Joel's temperature was a little high but nothing too concerning, so you pushed the fluids and he ate all of his soup and it helped put your mind at ease. You really didn't want to have to ask for ibuprofen unless it was absolutely necessary, especially considering how the same virus was hitting almost every house at the same time. You made sure to check on Ellie from her doorway, not wanting to risk her catching anything since she appeared to be fine, before helping Joel up to bed.

Once you followed him into the room and he turned on the light next to his bed, you realized you hadn't actually ever entered his bedroom before. Sure, you've walked past it when the door was open and glanced inside, but you never really looked. As he gathered some fresh pajamas and began to unbutton his flannel, you turned your back to him to give him some privacy and examined his bookshelf. Your eyes drifted over the titles on the spines of a handful of books, most of which you hadn't heard of before noticing a framed photograph sharing a shelf with his books. It was faded and a little torn, but you could still make out their faces. It was Joel - a far younger version of Joel - with his arm around a beautiful little girl with dark hair and eyes and a stunning smile. You felt your throat tighten when you realized who it was, and if you had any doubt, Joel's voice piped up behind you.

"That's Sarah."

You heard him shuffling his bedding around so you figured he was dressed.

"She's beautiful, Joel," you said, walking over to his side of the bed and popping the thermometer under his tongue one more time. "It's wonderful that you were able to find a picture of her. I wish I had some pictures of my family," you said sadly, watching the hands of the clock on top of his bookshelf tick, counting down the seconds until you could check the thermometer. "I would have loved for you to at least see them. I think you would have gotten along with my brother really well. Maybe too well," you added with a soft laugh, not realizing he was silently hanging on your every word as you continued to stare at the clock. "He was always looking out for me. Always protecting me, trying to shield me and it drove me nuts when I was younger, but as time went on, I understood it a bit more."

You pulled the thermometer out and checked the number. "Still the same," you told him, resting it on his nightstand.

"How much time?" he asked, and you gave him a confused look. "How much time did it take 'til you started to understand?" he clarified, and you realized what he was really asking.

"I don't know," you replied honestly, sitting on the edge of his bed with a sigh. "But I'm starting to... understand," you said, giving him a sideways glance. You really wanted to ask him about the Fireflies but seeing how sick he was, you decided to bring it up another time. His hand slipped out from underneath the covers and gently squeezed your knee.

"That's good," he said softly before furrowing his brow and turning his head to cough loudly into his pillow. You winced at how bad it sounded and rubbed his upper back. When the coughing fit passed, you handed him his water and he took a grateful sip.

"Do you need anything else before I go to bed?"

"Could you stay here?" he found himself asking before he could even think. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you struggled to answer. "Just 'til I fall asleep?"

"Oh," you replied, looking awkwardly around his rather sparse room. "Sure, let me just go wash up," you said, standing up from his bed. You were dead on your feet from your shift at work and you knew the next day wouldn't be any better, but you felt bad saying no, so you changed your clothes and grabbed one of the books Joel had found for you before dragging the chair from the corner of his room to the side of his bed.

"You can stretch out over there," he told you, pointing weakly to the other side of the bed before coughing into his closed fist. "I won't bite."

You smiled as you settled into the chair. "I'm alright, thanks," you said, opening your book and leaning back, trying to get comfortable. After a few minutes of reading, you looked up just to find him still watching you. You laughed and said "you need to get some rest if you want to kick this thing," then he grinned and finally closed his eyes.

You may not have been in bed with him, but you were close enough to help him relax and for the first time in months, he fell fast asleep within minutes.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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misshoneyimhome · 28 days

Note

Hi Love, i have a request for “being stopped when sneaking out after a one-night-stand” with Jack Hughes. Maybe you are friends with one of the other guys and you all are hanging and one thing leads to another and… next thing you know you wake up in bed together and have to try and sneak out without the boys finding you to save yourself from relentless teasing.

Hello there bb! 🤍

Well, I didn't really have a specific idea to begin with for this one, but as the thoughts started flowing, I attempted to put something together for this delightful little buttercup 😉

So, I hope it turned out somewhat as you'd imagined or at least enjoyable to read 😊

Tropes & Warnings; friends to lovers, slow-burn, best friend!Nico Hischier; 18+ smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), protected penetrative sex (p in v), as always language;

Word count; 4.2K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Mission Impossible I Jack Hughes 🖋️⚡️🌺

That laughter. Oh, that fucking laughter, Jack Hughes pondered, observing you mingling with the New Jersey Devils' crew. It was like sweet music to his ears. Your smile was akin to pure sunlight breaking through the clouds, and your scent was reminiscent of a meadow on a balmy summer evening.

It was the yearly gathering following the end of the season, and unfortunately, the 23/24 season had wrapped up much earlier than anticipated. The New Jersey Devils had been on the cusp of making it to the playoffs but fell short.

So tonight, Captain Nico Hischier, along with the management and coordinators, had organised a celebration to mark a season filled with hard work, strong team effort, and dedication, while also preparing for the upcoming off-season.

The evening began in a rather formal manner at the official Devils facilities. However, as the night progressed, Jack found himself at Nico's private residence, surrounded by teammates, partners, and a few friends.

And that meant you were there too.

You were one of Nico's closest friends from Switzerland, who had ventured to America to chase your own career dreams. A strong and self-assured young woman, you had captivated Jack's attention from the moment Nico introduced you to the team.

Being the same age as Nico, having grown up together, you shared a childhood bond. You exuded confidence with a touch of sophistication, yet your sense of humour was as playful and down-to-earth as the other guys on the team, making you fit right in. And Jack was immediately drawn to your poised yet calm disposition.

Even everyone on the team seemed to take a shine to you. Despite speculation that there might be something romantic going on between you and the captain, it soon became clear that such notions were just foundation of a good and healthy friendship. Nico was like a brother to you, your closest confidant who had been there through thick and thin, offering a shoulder to cry on during heartaches and sage advice in times of need. He was your protector and greatest supporter, just as you were his (perhaps except for his mother).

And Nico's presence was also the main reason Jack hadn't made any move on you yet. Despite his attraction, he felt unsure about how his teammate would react.

Yet you were the first girl to ever make him feel nervous, experiencing a mix of anxiety and excitement whenever you were around. The unfamiliar flutter of butterflies in his stomach emerged whenever you were nearby, leaving him lost for words the first time he had you alone.

But as time passed, Jack found himself growing more at ease in your company. The more time you spent together, the more he sensed a blossoming connection between you, especially as it appeared you shared a mutual interest.

Having just hit the milestone of mid-twenties, you were feeling completely in your element. Having successfully completed your education with commendable results, you were now diving headfirst into the professional world, determined to climb the career ladder. Even if it meant starting from scratch, your determination knew no bounds.

And Nico's friendship served as a constant source of inspiration as always. Having followed his hockey journey closely, witnessing his relentless dedication, it motivated you to strive harder for your own aspirations. So, with no ties holding you back in Switzerland, you found yourself venturing across the Atlantic, immersing yourself in the fast-paced and exhilarating world of the NHL.

Nico had graciously introduced you to his team, and you seamlessly integrated like a missing puzzle piece. Embraced warmly by everyone, you quickly formed close bonds with some of the team's other female members.

Yet, amidst it all, one individual seemed to ignite something deeper within you. The slightly younger American forward, Jack Hughes, had occupied your thoughts ever since you first laid eyes on him. His infectious grin and mischievous laughter captivated you like nothing else, while his composed and collected demeanour brought a sense of calm. He was simply enchanting and utterly captivating.

However, you made a conscious effort to maintain a certain level of calm and coolness, maintaining a small distance, as you did with all the players. You didn't want to be perceived as the type of friend who tagged along with Nico and flirted with every guy on the team. Besides, relationships weren't exactly a top priority for you at the moment.

Yet, there was something about the boy from Florida that intrigued you. His deep brown eyes held a mesmerising quality, and his voice had a calming effect whenever he spoke. His laughter resonated through the halls, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

So, with each passing day spent with the Devils, you found yourself simply cherishing the moments near Jack.

Today felt a bit different, though. While the disappointment of not making it to the playoffs lingered, the team maintained high spirits. They understood the challenges and the fierce competition in the NHL, recognising that this year simply wasn't theirs.

But thankfully, their strong bond and knack for lifting each other's spirits kept morale intact. Gatherings like today were crucial, providing a positive send-off into the off-season.

The atmosphere of the evening was relaxed and informal as you mingled with the crowd. Nico, buoyant as ever, left you to your own devices knowing you got along well with everyone on the team. And as time passed, you couldn't resist the pull towards the young Florida player with the tousled locks.

Jack's smile possessed a magnetic quality that drew you in, and soon you found yourselves reclining side by side on the outdoor sofa, cocooned under a blanket with the city lights twinkling in the background.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and genuine banter, a delightful blend of teasing and compliments.

Chats with Jack always felt natural. There was no need to overthink; it all just fell into place effortlessly. Your senses of humour were perfectly aligned, and you shared many interests. Moreover, neither of you hesitated to speak your mind, even when opinions diverged. It was these simple yet stimulating debates that enriched your friendship each time.

"Oh, come on," Jack chuckled, the two of you leaning in as you exchanged tales of your summer plans. "There must be something wrong with him if he wants to see you again!"

"Thanks a lot, Jack!" you teased, feigning offence as you rolled your eyes. "There's nothing wrong with him, he's just... a typical guy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked with a grin.

"Just that he's up for anything as long as I don't turn down the chance for a good shack," you explained with a mischievous smirk.

"Hey, not all men are like that all the time," Jack defended, still wearing a playful smile. "Some of us have good taste and won’t just stick it into anyone with a pulse."

"Oh, really?" you countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, really," Jack affirmed.

You couldn't deny the attraction simmering between you. As you sat there, close together amidst the laughter and cheers, with the night sky as your backdrop, you felt your heartbeat quicken.

Jack was undeniably attractive, and that smirk of his, oh, it had you spellbound. His deep chuckle and the way he defended his position had a tantalising effect on you, sending a tingling sensation through your core. But with so many people around, you couldn't bring yourself to make a move.

Instead, you simply smiled, breaking eye contact as you took a sip of your drink. "Well, I suppose you're not all bad then," you said softly, offering him a sweet smile.

Jack felt the sparks too. Your radiant presence shone brighter than the stars in the night sky, and your rosy lips stirred nothing but desire within him. Yet, he maintained his composure. With his teammates surrounding you, and he knew you didn't want any romantic entanglements with the players, including him.

"Hmm, no," he hummed huskily. "Not all men are bad..."

There was a moment of silence, the air heavy with anticipation as you both felt the closeness between you. Neither of you had realised just how close you were until now, lounging beside each other, your legs gently touching, and Jack's arm draped behind you.

The temptation to lean in for a kiss was almost overwhelming, especially considering how close you were already. Yet, you held back, acutely aware of Timo's watchful gaze and cheeky smirk a few feet behind Jack, engrossed in conversation with Nico. So, you turned your head away once more.

Letting out a sigh, you wrestled with yourself internally on how to navigate the situation. Of course, you desired to kiss Jack; only a fool would think otherwise. The attraction between you was undeniable, your heart racing with each moment spent in such close proximity. But you hesitated, unsure about crossing that line. He was your friend, and more significantly, he was Nico's teammate.

Similarly, Jack felt the hesitation weighing on him. Despite every fibre of his being yearning for more of your closeness, he held back. He longed to taste your lips, to feel the warmth of your mouth against his as his fingers tangled in your hair. He yearned to feel your body pressed against his, the heat and sweat mingling between you. The mere thought had his blood rushing, his desire evident even in his unconscious gestures, like licking his lips.

And your reaction didn't go unnoticed either. As he let his gaze linger on you, a seductive expression playing across his features, you couldn't help but feel the heat rising within you. You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of arousal beneath the fabric of your tight skirt.

It was impossible not to want it, the magnetic pull between you both growing stronger with each passing moment.

Yet, despite the tension crackling between you, neither of you made a move until you cautiously let your leg brush against his, maintaining a heated gaze. In response, Jack inched closer, pulling the blanket over both of you before his hand delicately found its way to your waist.

Your breaths mingled, heavy with anticipation as you shared the warm air between your faces. You had to consciously press your lips together to resist the urge to kiss him, but then something else caught your attention. As Jack drew you nearer, you felt the hardness of his member pressing against your core, eliciting a small gasp from you.

"Jack, you're..." you murmured softly, feeling the arousal ignite within you.

"Yeah… that's what you do to me," Jack almost growled, his mouth dangerously close to yours, his breath caressing your skin as he gently pulled your hip closer.

There was no denying it anymore. Both of you knew what you wanted in this moment. The only question was how to make it happen.

You had been staying at Nico's place before, so sneaking off to the guest room wouldn't raise suspicion. In fact, you had already planned to spend the night after the team event. You just hadn't discussed with him whether you would be alone in the bed or not – Nico assuming you’d be alone of course.

But the main challenge was reaching the bedroom amidst the remaining players and guests. Some had already departed, but enough remained in the living room that passing through would require finesse. So, as minutes ticked by, the tension grew unbearable. Your core pulsated with longing, craving his touch, while Jack's hardness strained against the tightness of his tight jeans, growing more insistent with each passing moment.

And finally, you spotted your opportunity to escape. As most of the players were engrossed in a few rounds of NHL PlayStation, their attention fully occupied, it was now or never.

So, signalling to Jack that the moment had arrived, he understood immediately. And trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, you decided to go first, pretending to head towards the bathroom. Then, after a brief delay, Jack would follow suit.

Though it likely seemed obvious what the two of you were up to, the distraction of the game on the big screen meant no one paid much attention as you slipped past them.

Finally, alone, behind closed doors, it took mere seconds before the two of you were lost in each other. Mouths collided, tongues intertwining, as eager hands hurriedly discarded clothes.

Your actions were driven by raw lust, each touch fuelled by an intense craving for one another. And before long, you found yourselves exactly where you had longed to be; naked, beneath the covers, with Jack's warm body pressed against yours. The kiss deepened as your fingers tangled in his brown locks, his hands roaming every inch of your body with fervour, as he made sure to massage both your breasts before attending to the heat between your legs.

To say his touch felt incredible would be an understatement. The ease with which his fingers glided pass your moist entrance, stimulating your walls and gathering your arousal, left you trembling with pleasure.

And Jack couldn't help but smile against your lips as he felt just how wet you were for him. Yet, he also felt his own arousal throbbing, his member dripping with precum as your soft moans filled the room. Sensing the tightness of your walls, he knew he probably wouldn't last long tonight.

And though he was already in need for a release merely by the foreplay, he didn’t want it to end so soon. So, instead, he withdrew his fingers with care, slowly moving his mouth away from yours to trail sloppy kisses down your jawline, then further down to your neck and torso, bypassing your nipple and navel until he reached your core.

With a deep breath and a dark, lustful look in his eyes, he gazed up at you, meeting your eyes before letting his tongue lick up your folds, savouring your sweetness.

"Oh, fuck..." you moaned, tilting your head back into the pillow, eyes shut tight as Jack's mouth worked wonders on your sensitive flesh. It felt incredible; not only was he a master with words, possessed an amazing smile and infectious laughter, but his mouth worked magic between your legs as well.

And unafraid to delve in with hunger, Jack explored every inch of your core with his tongue and lips, alternating between your sensitive clit and entrance, while his large arms and hands held your hips down and in place.

It was heavenly like. So, to no one's surprise, given the intense and prolonged foreplay, you reached climax much quicker than ever before. Whether it was Jack's expertise or your heightened desire, the orgasm he caused felt nothing short of sensational.

The only challenge was to stifle the moan that threatened to escape you. Pressing your lips together, you released a silent cry, arching your back and gripping the sheets tightly as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Jack allowed you a moment to recover, pulling away from your heat, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. And he couldn't help but smirk as he watched you gradually return to reality. It was a delightful sight, as you were trying to regain control of your breath, slowly opening your eyes to meet his. You looked somewhat defeated yet also expressed a hunger for more; your eyes were dark and intense as you bit your lip and smirked at him.

And with his shaft throbbing and eager for attention, Jack moved closer to you, his lips meeting yours in another messy, hungry kiss. He allowed you to taste yourself as his tongue intertwined with yours again, but he had to pull away momentarily to catch his breath before moving to what he desired most.

Meanwhile, taking in his incredible naked form, your gaze wandered to his long, sleek member, and you realised it was up to you to be responsible and act before the overwhelming lust consumed you both too much.

"Jack," you spoke softly. "Do you have protection?"

Jack paused for a moment, realising the importance of your question, before nodding. Luckily, Luke had jokingly tossed him a condom earlier that day, teasing him that he might need it. And as it turned out, he was right.

So, with a light smile, Jack rose to retrieve his trousers, carefully extracting the condom from its packaging before skilfully covering himself. Though, both of you knew condoms weren't the most romantic of accessories, given the circumstances of not being in a committed relationship, it was a responsible choice. Besides, Jack reminded himself, they also helped with lasting a bit longer. The, fully prepared, he leaned over your smaller frame, placing a tender kiss on your lips once more.

The position was simple as Jack positioned himself between your legs, his arms bracing on either side of you while your hands found their place on the back of his shoulders. Yet, the sensation was incredible as he began to glide into you, his cock filling you effortlessly, stretching your walls as he delved deeper.

"Fuck, Jack," you whispered, a soft cry escaping your lips, each thrust eliciting a gasp of pleasure.

"Shit, baby, you feel amazing around me," he moaned in response, his hips rocking in rhythm with yours, feeling the tightness of your grip around his shaft with every movement.

It was nothing short of intense as Jack picked up the pace, his length stimulating you with each thrust, increasing the speed and depth as desire surged within him. His arms provided strength as he pounded into you, fingers gripping the sheets as he edged closer to his climax.

Meanwhile, you were on the brink of ecstasy. Still riding the waves of your first orgasm, your mind was clouded with bliss, every thrust sending you deeper into overdrive. Jack didn't have to do much as he increased his speed and force, and soon you felt the second orgasm building, slowly but surely approaching.

But you didn't get the chance to reach it, not just yet. Instead, Jack swiftly withdrew from you, leaning back before turning you onto your stomach. And without hesitation, he entered you from behind once more, causing you to moan into the pillow as he filled you up again, his hips colliding with your buttocks in a steady rhythm.

"Mmm... baby, fuck..." Jack breathed out, unable to control his own movements, the sensation of your warmth embracing his shaft with each thrust bringing him closer to climax.

You were unable to respond, your mind foggy, your moans incomprehensible, and your vision blurry if you could even keep your eyes open. Jack's relentless pounding felt so good, and as he increased his pace, vigorously thrusting into you, you cried out into the pillow as you felt your second orgasm approaching.

"Shit, Jack... I'm gonna... fffff come..."

Your cries, muffled by the pillow, only spurred Jack on, intensifying his movements. It was rather intense at this point, the sounds of your bodies slamming together echoing through the room and likely audible in the hallway, yet neither of you cared. The pleasure was overwhelming, and Jack's sole focus was to push you both over the edge and reach the much-needed climax.

And it didn't take much longer before he managed to do so. With a few final thrusts, you let out a loud moan, into the pillow, as he continued to ravish you through your second climax, while the sensation of you clenching around his eager member pushed Jack over the edge too. Releasing a deep grunt, he emptied himself into the latex.

"Fuuuuuck..." he breathed deeply, thrusting softly as he let the last drops spill, catching his breath. "Shit... that was..."

"Perfection..." you muttered softly, lifting your head from the sheet, your pillowcase almost soaked with tears of pleasure, mixed with black mascara.

"Oh, perfection indeed," Jack chuckled lightly, placing a soft kiss on the back of your head as he remained inside you for a few more seconds before pulling out.

The room was hot, the air thick with the lingering smell of sex. Fortunately, the quick trip to the bathroom to dispose of the condom went smoothly, unnoticed by anyone. And soon, you found yourselves snuggled up in Jack's embrace, his body pressed against yours as you cuddled before drifting off to sleep.

Jack Hughes didn't usually spend the night with a one-night stand. But you were different. You weren't just a random girl he had met and picked up; you were a friend he had been longing for. And as the morning slowly crept in, he couldn't help but smile as he felt your body next to his, savouring the moment before drifting back to sleep.

Then about an hour later, you woke from your slumber as well, still feeling the lingering sensations of pleasure in your core as Jack lay beside you.

A small part of you feared he might have left during the night, as you knew the next mission would be sneaking him out.

Nico would likely expect you to be at his condo, but he probably wouldn't expect Jack to be there too.

So, when the need to visit the loo arose, you imagined yourself in a Mission Impossible movie, carefully sneaking out the door, into the hallway, and reaching the bathroom just a few feet away. Fortunately, the journey there went smoothly. However, as you were about to return to the bedroom, a voice halted you.

"Not so fast," Nico spoke behind you in Swiss German. You could almost feel the smug expression on his face. And as you turned around, you weren't wrong. "Didn't see you go to bed last night?" He chuckled as he took a small step forward.

You had to remain calm as you felt the heat slowly rising in your cheeks. Clad only in an oversized t-shirt, you couldn't help but feel your bare core still tingling solely from the memories of last night. "Oh well... yeah, didn't want to disturb your game with the boys," you tried to speak as confidently as possible.

But Nico wasn't convinced. Cocking an eyebrow and crossing his arms, he kept his gaze fixed on you. "Mmm hmmm... so you didn't sneak off to bed without telling me because you've got something to hide?"

"What- what?" You quickly asked, feigning innocence, blinking a few times, and pressing your lips together.

"I said you have nothing to hide, right?" Nico chuckled once more, taking another step towards you.

"Why would I try and hide something from you, Nicki?" You attempted to deflect with a question, your voice as calm as possible. Yet it still didn't quite convince him.

"I don't know," Nico smirked. "Since we both know it wouldn't work..."

And he had a point. Being your best friend for so many years, Nico could always see right through you. And in that very moment, it was no different.

"Well, um... I don't know what you're trying to get at..."

Nico raised a brow again. Why you were even trying to challenge him, you had no idea. He was onto you, and you both knew it.

"So, you're telling me, that if I open this door right now, I'll find your bed empty?"

You had to swallow hard. "Why wouldn't it be? I mean, I'm right here," you tried your best to maintain your composure.

Then with a suspicious look, Nico slowly took hold of the doorknob and gently opened the door. And to his surprise, as well as your own, the bed was indeed empty.

A tiny smirk formed on your lips as you saw the expression on your friend's face, yet you couldn't help but wonder where the hell Jack was. Had he left while you were in the bathroom?

And simply with a light chuckle, Nico admitted he'd been wrong and left your room with a smile.

Closing the door behind him, you let out a sigh of relief.

"Is he gone?" You suddenly heard Jack's voice.

"Wait... where are you?"

And then a large hockey player crawled out from under the bed, a smile adorning his face as he stood before you. "Sorry, I just heard your voices and thought I'd better hide - just in case," he chuckled.

"Well, I'm glad you did," you smiled back, stepping a little closer so Jack could let his hands find your hips, then softly meeting in a tender kiss.

"Hmm," he then hummed. "So... how are we going to do this next part?"

You let his question linger for a moment as your palms rested on his muscular chest. "Hmm, well I guess it's your turn to play Mission Impossible..."

It wasn't an easy escape. Yet, you'd swiftly become accustomed to the act, so as you scouted the hallway, noticing Nico wasn't there, Jack quickly made his run to the front door.

You couldn't help but giggle as he hurriedly left, just as Nico emerged from his bedroom again. But fortunately, he made it, and you could let out another deep sigh of relief.

Well, that was until Nico noticed the used condom in the second bathroom later the same day, and you eventually had to come to confession.

#my asks #18+#jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl smut

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lxndonorris · 3 months

Text

back inside the cockpit - Max Verstappen (SFS24)

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: Smut (you've been warned) testing begins and you're joining Max during his stint. Tension rises, between the smell of rubber and the roaring of the new Red Bull. word count: 2460+ taglist: @game-set-canet another part of the suit fitting saga 24 (SFS24), if you have any request, let me know! Next one is about Lando :)

As the new racing season looms on the horizon, you find yourself drawn into the whirlwind of excitement that engulfs your boyfriend, Max Verstappen, a professional racing driver. Joining him for the tests marks the beginning of an exciting and promising year of high-speed racing.

Inside his private quarters, the anticipation hangs thick in the air as Max showcases his sleek navy blue racing suit for the very first time. With a mischievous grin, he catches your eye before slipping into the tight, dark undergarments—the fireproofs—each deliberate movement meant to show off a little.

Running a hand along your own thighs, you bite your lip. Looking down at your own clothes—the new Red Bull team gear—you're drawn to the thought of him holding you close, the faint scent of his cologne engulfing you both. It's his shirt that he gave to you just minutes prior. He wore it to the track this morning; it is still warm and smells like him. It's a little wide, but that's okay—it's his, after all, and that's what matters.

You lift your eyes, just in time to catch him tugging his trunk into his trousers. Max, watching you the whole time, smirks—he looks so good with his bare chest still on display and his thighs filling his pants easily.

Then, he slips into the upper half with a low groan, and one arm at a time, the tight fabric swings itself along his bulging biceps, shoulders, and pecs.

You vividly recall the countless hours he spent in the gym, pushing himself to the limit as he sculpted his body into a lean, mean racing machine. Drenched in sweat, his muscles straining with exertion, he remained unwavering in his pursuit of excellence, each drop of sweat a testament to his dedication and resolve.

"Like what you see?" Max teases, his voice low and husky as he flexes his muscles, the fabric molding to his form with effortless precision.

You nod, unable to tear your gaze away from him, the desire pooling in the pit of your stomach as you admire the way the fireproofs hug his every curve.

"You look incredible." You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as you reach out to trace the contours of his chest, the fabric smooth beneath your fingertips.

With a chuckle, Max captures your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before slipping into the rest of the racing suit.

Still running your other hand across his firm chest, he draws you close. His lips mere inches from yours, Max presses a tender kiss against your lips.

"It feels good," he purrs into your mouth, "but I need to put the rest on."

Chuckling, you pull away slowly, your eyes meeting his in a locked gaze.

"Can't wait to see it all," you say, patting his chest, You stroke him again before he takes a step back.

With practiced ease, he begins to don the racing suit, each movement fluid and deliberate as he allows you to linger in the space between you, your fingers tracing the lines of his body with gentle reservence.

The fabric clings to him like a lover's embrace, the zipper inching upward with agonizing slowness as he reveals himself to you in all his glory.

Piece by piece, he assembles his racing ensemble, each article of clothing a tantalizing glimpse into the raw power and athleticism that lie beneath. With each touch and each caress, you feel a surge of desire course through you, igniting a fire that threatens to consume you both.

As he fastens the last buckle, his eyes meet yours, a smoldering intensity burning within their depths. Pulling you close, Max allows you to feel the strength of his arms, the solidness of his chest, and the desire building up inside him.

"It feels so good to be back." He exclaims, a bright smile spreading across his soft lips.

"I can tell." Running a hand along his waistline, you let your fingertips barely brush across his crotch, the dark fabric concealing his longing excitement.

With a smirk, he nods toward the door. "We've gotta go."

Together, you make your way toward the garage, the scent of gasoline and rubber mingling with the heady rush of adrenaline as you near the track.

Standing side by side as Max adorns himself with the essential gear—gloves and a helmet—you can't help but feel a sudden swell of pride and aluurement at the sight of him, his passion and determination radiating from every pore.

"Ready to show them what you're made of?" you ask, your voice filled with unwavering support as you watch him settle into the driver's seat.

Max flashes you a grin, his eyes alight with excitement. "You bet," he replied, his voice tinged with anticipation as he revs the engine, the roar of the car drowning out the world around you.

As he speeds off onto the track, you linger in the garage, your heart racing in tandem with the thunderous roar of the engines. Watching him maneuver with grace and precision, a sense of awe washes over you, a deep-seated admiartion for the man who never ceases to amaze you with his skill and passion.

Through the cackle of the radio, you catch snippets of his laughter, a symphony of joy reverberating through the air. In that moment—behind the wheel, pushing the car to its limit for the very first time.

Just by the tone of his voice, you can tell he is as excited as ever, with his passion for racing echoing through the radio. You know how much he loves this, speeding through corners and flying down the straights while giggling to himself.

For a while, you watch the new Red Bull finish more and more laps, being tested to its core.

When Max returns, your heart trembles in excitement.

As he steps out of the car, a wave of exhilaration emanates from him, visible in every movement and every gesture as he navigates the bustling garage with an air of confidence that is impossible to ignore.

The way he carries himself speaks volumes—a man at the top of his game, ready for another season and its challenges lying ahead.

With a huge smile plastered across his face, Max engages in animated conversations with the mechanics, his enthusiasm infectious as he shares his experience with the new car on track.

His eyes sparkle with excitement, a mirror of the joy that dances within his soul, as he makes his way toward you.

As Max draws near, his gaze locks onto yours, a magnetic pull that leaves you breathless in its wake.

Without hesitation, he pulls you into his embrace; his body presses firmly against yours, making sure to hold you close.

"How was it?" You ask, running a hand across his chest, tracing the letters written on his suit with your fingertips.

"So good." Max tries to hold back a soft moan. You're the only one who is meant to know how he feels right now.

He is completely enthralled by driving that car, with adrenaline and desire pumping through his veins—pure hedonism.

Unable to tear his gaze away, he drinks in the sight of you adorned in his team's merchandise, a proud smile gracing his lips as he adores the way the colors complement your features.

With tenderness born of passion, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. Lost in the sweetness of his embrace, you melt against him, your heart beating on time with his as you savor the fleeting moments of intimacy amidst the hustle and bustle of the racing world.

Now, it's his Checo's turn to speed along the track, and the two of you decide to head back into Max's quarters.

Inside his motorhome, the air crackles with electricity as he peels off the upper half of his racing suit, revealing the snug fireproofs that hug his form like a second skin. Every movement seems amplified, every contour of his body is highlighted by the adrenaline coursing through every fiber of his body.

Max runs a hand across his thick chest, his muscles rippling beneath the fabric as he turns to face you, a confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he exudes an effortless charm that never fails to leave you breathless.

"I'm so hard right now," blurts out of his mouth as he grabs himself through his tight racing suit. Due to its color, it's barely able to hide the bulge forming inside his trousers. All of this excitement building up inside him is revealing his feelings for racing, but also for having you by his side.

"Do you feel that too?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine as his gaze locks with yours.

In that moment, with the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, you feel a surge of desire unlike anything you have ever felt before.

Steadying yourself against his strong frame, you lean in, the distance between you evaporating as your lips meet in a fervent kiss.

"So much," you breathe into him. "I just need you so much." His muscles tense at your slightest touch.

Teasing him, you trace the contours of his form, your fingers dancing across the expanse of his chest, eliciting a low rumble of pleasure from deep down within his throat. Pulling you close, he envelops you in his embrace, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

The embrace grows tighter the more passionately you kiss each other. Both of you let your hands encompass each other's bodies, and with every little stroke and every soft touch, you give in to him more and more.

Your hand manages to slip underneath his tight shirt, feeling his warm skin and his firm muscles against your skin, giving you goosebumps.

At the same time, his hands are cupping your boobs, touching you firmly yet lovingly.

"Mhmm." You moan into him once more when he starts to grind his crotch against your thighs, making sure to let you feel his ever-growing length.

"Now?" Max's rough voice breaks as he tries to catch his breath. "I can't hold it in any longer."

His entire body is aching for relief, and he is asking you to help him find it. Your own is craving him as well, with all of you longing for him—the touch of his skin against yours, the whispered promises of unbridled passion and desire.

"Fuck." You growl once his hand slides in between the two of you and between your legs. "I need you."

With one swift motion, he somehow manages to unbutton your jeans while you two make your way through the room. Unable to find the sofa in time, you end up with your back against the cold wall.

"Max." You let out a low groan while he keeps on kissing you, his hands now inside your pants, his fingers knowing his way around your body just like he knows the way around the different tracks. "It feels so good."

Steadying yourself against his strong frame again, you stroke his chest and let your hand run down his body, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs through his shirt before you touch his member.

Easily, your hand slips into his racing suit and his fireproofs, touching him firmly.

Like you pushed the right buttons, Max leans his head back, one hand on his own chest, the other still inside your pants.

Your jeans slowly drop down to your ankles as he removes his hand, needing both of his hands to please himself.

"Y/N." He shudders, slowly regaining his composure, turning his head to face you again. His beautiful eyes are burning brightly, and their gaze threatens to smother you whole.

Effortlessly, you pull his dick out of his pants and fondle him for a while as he embraces you fully.

Max then leans in again, kissing you hard, this time much more possessive and determined to make you his.

Being so busy pleasing him, you don't even notice him pulling at your underwear, removing them just enough for him to fit inside you. Leaning back against the wall, you give in to him.

With a tender kiss, he slips inside your body, both of your minds shrouded by the blissful passion engulfing the two of you.

His groans, moans, and familiar smell make it easy for you to let him guide you further and further as he starts rocking his hips against yours.

Max is slowly increasing the strength and pace of his thrusts, with one of his hands pulling up your leg to make it easier for him. To steady yourself, you wrap one arm around his neck while the other strokes his chest firmly, encouraging him to keep going.

Your bodies are moving as one; Max's rhythm is easy for you to follow; and you enjoy how tight his body presses against yours.

After what feels like an eternity, you reach your limits, and simultaneously, you climax—a sensational feeling of shared desire and relief.

Max still holds you close, placing kisses all over your neck while you run a hand through his messy, sweaty hair.

"I needed that." He growls; his usual rough voice sounds much deeper, huskier, and smoother.

"Me too." Kissing him, you enjoy each other's embrace for a little while longer before he separates himself from you.

You help each other change clothes, replacing every article of clothing with a loving kiss, a gentle touch, and a shared smile.

Before it's time to leave the motorhome, you take one last look at Max's racing suit, now hanging in front of the cupboard door—a beautiful piece of art. You trace the letters of his name written on the waistline, knowing that he is yours after all.

Then, hands run along your waistline from behind, pulling you back into a warm hug.

"Thank you for being there for me, always." Max breathes into your ear, his chest tight against your back, just the way you like it.

"It's my pleasure." You reply, then turn around to look into his now soft face.

He is wearing the Red Bull shirt now—typical Max—but you wouldn't want it any other way. Stroking his chest again, you enjoy how tight his body still feels and how his clothes accentuate his form so well.

"I like that." Max lets out a guttural growl before smirking again. "It smells like you now." He blushes slightly.

"But it's mine once we're done here." You pinch his nipple playfully, causing him to giggle.

"Of course," he leans in, kissing you again before it's time to head to a team meeting.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #Max verstappen smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x you #F1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic

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joequiinn · 2 months

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 5

[chap four] | [chap six] | [all chapters here]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: I'm very excited for this chapter because it's actually one of the scenes that inspired this whole fic! Before I knew what the hell I even wanted to write, I played this idea of a figure skating character over and over again in my head as I built up the story around it. I'm a little behind on writing the next chap, so it may be a slightly longer wait between this and the next one! Hope you all love it!

wc: 4.8k

taglist: @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @em0220 @fromasgardandback @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

Chapter Five

You skated at least four times a week. You’ve done so since you were ten years old, when you decided that you wanted to take figure skating more seriously. Whether or not you had competitions, whether or not you were in the mood for it, you always stuck with your skating routine. With competition season coming up in November, you knew you’d have to start practicing more, putting in longer hours and more days in preparation.

Or maybe not. After all, competing was something that your mom enjoyed, that she encouraged wholeheartedly. Regardless of how much you enjoyed it, it didn’t exactly fit the teenage rebellion thing you had going on right now. Maybe you wouldn’t go to competition this year, maybe you’d skip out on your final season out of pure spite - now that would be cruel. Although a part of you hurt at that idea - because you really did love skating - you reasoned that it was something you had to consider.

Fridays were always very long days for you. While your peers would be set free to roam following the 3pm school bell, you had more obligations for the day. Once you left school, you crammed in as much homework as you could before hitting the ice rink by 4:30 at the latest to get your own practice in. Once that was done, you led a youth skating practice until 7pm, then you tried to squeeze in some more skating time before the hockey team took to the ice at 7:15. After arriving home at 8 o’clock or later, you crammed more homework so you wouldn’t have to deal with it over the weekend, and then by that point you’d be too worn out for anything else, so you generally slept late into the next morning.

This had been your routine for over a year now, ever since your own couch suggested that you needed to get more extracurriculars under your belt for your college applications. She had insisted that your resume would look far more impressive if you showed that you had teaching experience and “leadership potential,” an idea that really appealed to your parents, who were determined for you to get into a good school, maybe even on a figure skating scholarship. So, you ended up taking over the Friday night children’s lessons whether you wanted to or not.

You honestly despised it. You led children age 5 to 7, and they were a constant pain in the ass. You couldn’t raise your voice without one of them crying, you couldn’t leave them to their own devices without someone inevitably ending up hurt. Yet, you stuck with it because you were told to, because the adults around you insisted that you needed to. You couldn’t stand the way your coach would insist that this would help develop your skills, you couldn’t stand how your mother insisted “you’ll look back on this so fondly when you’re older.” These damned kids skating lessons were something else you’d probably drop soon, because you barely tolerated them as is.

While everyone else was at the football game, while Eddie was probably off playing his stupid fantasy game or doing something equally as nerdy, you were here at the ice rink, shouting instructions at children while parents and hockey players watched. Some of the parents had made it clear before that they weren’t fond of your impatient and mean teaching methods, but your coach always seemed to talk them out of pulling their kids from your group. She always argued something about you being the best skating in the county, but you weren’t sure how true that was - sure, you had your fair share of medals, but even with your ego you were pretty sure there were better skaters at your level.

“Come on, slackers, we’ve got five minutes left!” You taunted your group of 11 kids as they skated around the perimeter of the rink as a cool down. You zipped ahead of them, leading the charge as you skated backwards to keep an eye on them.

Many of the older kids had grown used to your abrasive coaching, but you could see that many of the newbies were still frightened of you, your loud voice, and your cold eyes. As a means of excusing your poor teaching style, you always said that skating was a tough sport and they needed to toughen up if they wanted to be any good at it. For how pretty and elegant figure skating could be, you knew from experience that competitive skating could be harsh, so you figured you were helping these kids prepare for it.

Because the Hawkins High hockey team had the rink after your group every Friday, many of them were already sitting on the sidelines, getting their gear ready or watching you work. The cocky part of you enjoyed the attention, but hockey players were stupid, so you rarely gave any of them a chance whenever they tried talking to you. Nonetheless, when you were in a good mood, you enjoyed putting on a bit of a show for them, shooting flirty glances their way or occasionally calling out remarks to them between instructing the kids. Tonight, you were paying them little mind, but that didn’t stop you from looking their way every now and again.

As you led the kids back to the center of the ice to wrap up the lesson, a lot of their parents were also waiting in the bleachers or out in the lobby. While you skated back and forth in front of your little army of children, going over some instructions for their next practice with your coach on Monday, your eyes roamed the bleachers. You gave a wicked grin to the hockey players that watched you, meanwhile you took in the parents with very little regards. It was as you looked over the clusters of parents that you saw a familiar face sitting at the penalty bench, and unintentionally you let your toe pick drag on the ice, which very nearly caused you to trip.

God damn Eddie Munson.

As you glared in his direction, hoping your momentary lack of balance didn’t make you look too stupid, you dismissed the kids before gliding towards the dasher board. Eddie, grinning like an asshole, stood up to meet you as children began to exit the ice. You braced yourself on the rail of the board, eyes narrowed at Eddie who appeared far too amused for your liking.

“What are you doing here?” You ask in lieu of a greeting. Eddie briefly glances over at the kids leaving the ice.

“You’re incredible with children.” He mocked, smiling far too wide for your liking; you narrowed your eyes while wondering just how long he’d been here, “Figured I might find you here.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.” You respond coldly, gaze briefly looking in the direction of the hockey team to find a couple of them watching your interaction.

“You did say we needed to make plans, figure out how this was going to work,” Eddie started, taking in your red cheeks and slightly damp forehead that developed over the course of your skating lessons.

“I also said we’d talk about it next week.” You glowered a little, not worried if any of the hockey players saw it - maybe they’d simply mistake it for a lovers quarrel. Eddie grinned, holding his arms up as if he were a presenter on some dumb show.

“No time like the present, right?” Your unamused face gave him all the answer he needed, and his expression fell a little in annoyance, “And here I hoped I was being a good fake boyfriend by visiting you at the rink.”

“You’re being too good a fake boyfriend,” You jab.

Now that all the kids were off the ice, you slid towards the open gate; Eddie kept pace with you on the other side of the dasher board, meeting you at the gate and offering you his hand in assistance. You looked between his face and his outstretched hand with a glare, but eventually accepted his help, stepping over the barrier and onto the slightly cushy floor on the other side.

“I told you not tonight because I’m busy.” You walk over to the gym bag you left sitting on the nearest bleachers. As you sat beside it, Eddie shrugged with a carelessness that seemed almost false.

“Then I’ll go.” He answered simply as you removed your skates, “Just thought it might not be a bad idea to get to know you a little better. It’s not gonna be easy to fake date someone who you know nothing about.”

You shot him a harsh look while putting skate guards over your blades. You didn’t want to admit that he was right, but he had a good point, especially since you had already discussed it before. You sighed heavily through your nose, your cold eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“Can’t it wait? I’ve had a long day.”

Eddie studied you for a moment, leaning back against the dasher board before looking around the ice rink. You quickly put some worn sneakers on your feet and stood, picking your bag and turning away with the intention to leave. But Eddie’s gentle grip on your wrist stopped you from going anywhere, causing you to look between his hand and his face. As you two held eye contact, you realized that Eddie could be just as stubborn as you when he wanted; damn, was this going to be difficult.

“Let me buy you dinner - I’m sure you’re starving,” Eddie started, and for a fleeting moment you wondered if he thought your attitude was because you were hangry. You chewed your lower lip, eyes staring critically at Eddie for another few moments before you let out a defeated sigh, allowing your shoulders to relax a little. Considering that it had been nearly eight hours since your lunch break, it might now be a bad idea to eat something.

Eddie’s eyes softened at your silent resignation, the corner of his mouth pulling up. He finally released your wrist, nodding his head in the direction of the lobby, “Come on, you pick.”

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Your pick ended up being a 24-hour diner downtown. Eddie showed clear confusion when you mentioned it, so you explained that - for whatever reason - the diner had become something of a tradition, where students congregated post-Friday night football into the wee hours of the night. You’d joined that crowd a number of times in the past, but had no more interest in it - what you were interested in was having people see you and Eddie out together.

You knew it would still be at least an hour before the football crowd arrived, but that wasn’t such a bad thing - it gave you and Eddie a bit of time to actually become acquainted, to learn more about each other beyond “ice princess” and “the freak.”

You studied Eddie while sipping on a chocolate shake, waiting for your food to arrive. He stared back at you unabashedly, and you figured you could be locked into this staring contest until the end of time given how stubborn you both could be. As if Eddie knew what you were thinking, he smirked, finally caving as he looked away from you.

“Not to sound cliche,” Eddie scratched the back of his neck, almost as if he were nervous, but you assumed that couldn’t be true, “but… tell me about yourself?”

You smiled at how dumb the question was - that was so cliche. It was as good a starting place as any you figured, but that didn’t make it sound any less silly and forced. You leaned back in your seat, still holding tight to your milkshake as if it were a lifeline.

Putting on your best Miss America voice, you replied, “Well, I’m freshly 18 from Hawkins, Indiana. I love long walks on the beach, snuggling up with a good book, and I hope one day we’ll have world peace.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, although you could tell he was fighting back a grin, “You’re making this very challenging considering that it was your idea.”

You shrug, taking a big gulp of the chocolate shake, “I guess I’m just a challenging person.”

“You guess?” Eddie laughed mockingly at that, “You’re the most challenging I’ve met. So, how about you try relaxing a little or else no one’s going to buy that we’re together.”

You made a face at the near-insult, finally putting down your drink. You leaned your elbows on the table, taking in Eddie’s face for a moment, stubbornly resisting the urge to say anything. Again, he had a good point, not that you wanted to tell him that. Eddie appeared to have an idea as he mirrored your pose.

“Okay, we’ll go back and forth, a question for a question; how’s that?” You nodded, “Right. First question: Why me?”

Your brows furrowed a little in thought, pinning down a good answer while trying to recall what you’ve already told him, “Haven’t I already explained that?”

“Kind of.” Eddie rolled his hand in a motion that basically said “but go on.”

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment while thinking, “Your reputation. People don’t know you, but your reputation is in the absolute gutter. No better person to turn to than the guy who everyone in the school already hates.”

Eddie nodded in acceptance of the answer, “Okay, your turn.”

You grinned a little, a question already on your lips, “Why’d you agree to it?”

It was something you’d speculated briefly throughout the week, as you thought that your trade offer might not have been a compelling enough reason for Eddie to agree to this stupid plan. And now you could finally get the answer you were looking for.

Eddie silently stared at you in consideration, and again it almost felt like he was able to read your thoughts somehow. Finally, he answered, “Curiosity.”

You raised a brow in question, to which he once more scratched the back of his neck - maybe that actually was a nervous habit, so you took note of it.

“We both know this idea is kinda crazy,” Eddie started, mulling over his thoughts before continuing, “But I wanted to see how it plays out. See if we can actually trick people into believing it. And I wanted to see if you were as awful as I thought you were.”

You balked instantly, an amused huff escaping your mouth, “‘Awful?’ Jesus, you keep acting like I’m the devil or something.”

Eddie made a face while shrugging, not disagreeing with you, “You thought the same about me. So, let’s call it square.”

Food was finally brought to your table, and you had to resist the urge to attack the greasy burger set in front of you; you didn’t need Eddie to see you act like a ravenous gremlin over some food, even if it had been over eight hours since you’d eaten anything. But you nonetheless dug in, albeit with far more control than your empty, growling stomach would have liked.

“Your turn.” You say around a bite of food, causing Eddie to smile in amusement and the unladylike action.

“Hmm…” He leaned forward, scrutinizing you as he contemplated his next question. Self consciously, you wiped at the corner of your mouth just to make sure there wasn’t any stray ketchup or grease sitting there, “Why ice skating?”

“Because it’s better than cheerleading.” You smiled at your own joke before giving a slightly better answer, “I always thought it was pretty. Nothing else to it, unfortunately; no deep story and significance to it.”

“Fine.” Eddie responded almost as if he was disappointed by the mundane answer.

“Why Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Your questions can’t keep being off-shoots of mine.” Eddie laughed a little, and despite yourself it caused you to smile smally as well.

“Says who?”

“Says me,” He responded while pointing at himself, “I get to come up with some of the rules now, remember?”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes with a degree of fondness, which you immediately found strange, so you tried to wipe the look from your face. Nope, you weren’t fond of Eddie Munson, not at all.

You went back to your food, hoping Eddie didn’t catch the amused look on your face. You spoke around another bite of food, “Do you have siblings?”

“None that I know of.” He replied around his own mouthful of food, “But I wouldn’t exactly be surprised if there were any out there.”

You cocked your head a little at the response; it wasn’t so much shocking or sad, rather it was unexpected and different from your own life. You made a mental note to learn more about Eddie’s family, if not tonight then at a later point.

“What’s your plan after graduation?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then paused - what was your plan now that you were trying to make your own decisions? You hadn’t even considered it. Did you still want to go to college? Where? Studying what? You suddenly realized that you had no true plan for yourself, only the one outlined by your parents, and that realization made you nervous.

“Honest answer: not a fucking clue.” Eddie looked taken aback by the response, so you continued, “My plan before was getting into a good school on a skating scholarship, and studying something completely irrelevant. My parents expect my skating to carry me through life until some good, rich man sweeps me off my feet.”

“But that’s not your plan anymore?”

“That’s another question.” You give him a teasing grin, causing Eddie to roll his eyes, “First, answer me this: If you weren’t stuck in Hawkins, where would you go?”

Eddie grinned with an unexpected eagerness, “LA. The music scene there is insane, and I’d happily sleep on the streets if it meant I had a shot at making my own music.”

Your eyes softened ever so slightly at the unexpected, genuine response - admittedly, you didn’t peg Eddie as the type to have any real goals. But music? That was interesting to you since you weren’t even aware that he played any instruments. You wondered if he was actually any good at it, or if it was some foolish aspiration.

“Now, what’s your plan?” Eddie repeated, smirking at the look on your face - this was one of the few times you didn’t look like a total bitch, so he appreciated it. In fact, you looked relaxed and, dare he say, content; that was certainly unexpected from you.

When you shrugged, he shook his head, leaning forward again, “No, you come up with a plan right now. Don’t base it off what your parents want or what you think sounds like the right answer. What do you want to do with your life once we’re done with this shit hole?”

You contemplated, a mild concern washing over you as you stared at Eddie - what the hell did you want? And why did you suddenly feel so vulnerable because of the question. You had to rip your gaze away from Eddie’s, hardening your expression as you tried to think up an answer that felt right.

“I… I like art, I love clothes,” You started dumbly, glancing at Eddie through your lashes, expecting him to make a face at the lame answer, “I don’t know shit about them in a technical way, but it might be fun for college. Take painting or sewing classes during the day, skate until my feet hurt at night, maybe… I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, LA… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.”

“Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to LA together after graduation, huh?” Eddie smiled widely, and you allowed an amused look to cross your face.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You returned to your food as you tried to come up with a good question for Eddie. An intriguing one came to you, so you asked before you could second guess it, “How do you expect your fake girlfriend to act?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed; it didn’t appear to be due to him misunderstanding the question, but rather that it was unexpected; he even looked maybe hesitant to answer it. Again, he scratched his neck.

You lean forward a little, looking at him seriously, “Give me a good answer, okay? We’re just gonna keep going in circles otherwise.”

Eddie shrugged, “Maybe I don’t have any expectations.”

“Then come up with some.” You immediately counter, prodding the same way he had about your plans for the future. Eddie stared at you with scrutiny while chewing the inside of his lip, as if he didn’t want to come up with a response to the question. You waited, making a mock sweet face at him while you chowed down on your fries. You were going to demand an answer until he gave you one.

“Well, going off the rules you already established,” He made a bit of a face as if to mock the oh-so-sacred fake dating rules, “Aside from playing nice in front of others, it might be helpful if you were less stubborn; you’re like a damn bull.”

You gave him a joshing smile right back, “Fair. Is that it?”

Eddie quickly shook his finger; now it was just a back-and-forth game of you mocking one another, “Ah, that’s another question.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You rolled your eyes with a short laugh, “That is not another question.”

Eddie gave a fake look of apology, shrugging again, “Unfortunately, it is.”

You threw a french fry at him, which lamely hit his chest then landed in his lap. As he laughed and picked it up, you found yourself smiling fondly again, and you quickly tried to shake off the expression.

At that moment, the bell above the front door chimed, and immediately the diner was filled with rambunctious conversation. Your heart jumped a little, realizing the time, and you briefly glanced in the direction of the door; the group that had entered wasn’t your friends, although you recognized them. You turned your attention back to Eddie, who gave you another grin.

“Showtime.” He stated simply, and then a thought appeared to cross his mind, “You want another expectation? Tell me if anything I do is too much, but otherwise let me do what I do - you don’t need to be in control all the time.”

“Don’t I, though?” You countered haughtily, which was met by a flash of seriousness across Eddie’s eyes.

“No, you don’t. I know what I’m doing, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, not entirely convinced that he did, in fact, know what he was doing. Considering that you’d never seen him even interact with a girl before, you weren’t sure if he knew the first thing about dating or romance. But despite your doubts, you relented, relaxing your shoulders as if to show you were relinquishing some control.

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes nonetheless, forever obstinate as you mocked, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, but otherwise I’ll let you do what you do.”

“Was that so hard?” Eddie replied with a condescending smirk. You sneered before relaxing your face, knowing your friends were bound to appear any minute now.

As you stole another glance at the door, you suddenly felt Eddie’s fingers graze the back of your hand, drawing your attention back to him with a confused little knot between your brows. He held your gaze as if to make a point, as if to remind you of the conversation you just had, that he knew what he was doing. His hand simply sat on top of yours, your fingers ever so slightly lacing together - he raised his brows as if to dare you to pull away from him. You had to resist the urge to narrow your eyes at him and snatch your hand away, and in turn Eddie gave you a cocky grin before continuing to eat with his free hand.

Eventually, your friends appeared, although they didn’t notice you at first. They were all so full of energy as they excitedly spoke to each other, descending upon a few tables in the middle of the diner and pushing them together. The staff were used to it, although you knew from experience that they nonetheless hated it; you guys were always disruptive to the other patrons, and you figured that was never going to change.

You tried your best not to stare, but your eyes kept trailing over, kept studying the excited faces of the people you considered friends only a couple of weeks ago. After your eyes had drifted over for the umpteenth time, you felt Eddie lightly squeeze your fingers, causing you to unintentionally sneer at how strange it was to maintain this physical contact with him.

“Stop staring,” He instructed when you looked back at him.

With a quarrelsome look in your eyes, you did as Eddie told you, returning your attention to the half eaten burger on your plate, “Talk to me about something, then.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t care, just talk so I can pretend to be interested.”

Eddie looked mildly put off by that, and you realized that you’d taken your customary mean tone with him. You couldn’t seem to help yourself with your former cohorts nearby, it was as if their energy was rubbing off on you.

“You know what I’m going to talk about,” Eddie taunted with a wide grin.

Your face fell in realization, “Please not Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“So, there’s this character, Kas, who has really interesting lore--”

You threw another fry at Eddie, and at that same moment, you felt someone come up alongside your table. You both look up to see Amelia there with a critical look on her face; your gaze drifts past her, noticing that a few people from her table were also looking at you and Eddie.

You met Amelia’s eyes again, giving her a wide, false smile, “Small world.”

Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, “Yeah, I’m sure you just completely forgot we always come here after games.”

“Maybe she just wanted to see her dear friends.” Eddie chimed in mockingly, once again surprising you with his willingness to instigate confrontation. You laughed as a dumbfounded look crossed Amelia’s at his remark.

“I don’t know what the hell she sees in you.” Amelia snarked with a glare before turning her gaze back to you, “And I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but it’s already getting pretty old.”

You shrug with exaggerated nonchalance, “Sometimes a girl just needs a bit of a change every now and then, you know?”

Amelia didn’t look convinced as she rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, “Yeah, well, this ‘change’ doesn’t suit you at all.”

Before you could respond with another quip, Amelia spun on her heel and briskly returned to her table. By that point, everyone there was watching and awaiting Amelia’s return, quickly huddling together to whisper conspiratorially once she sat down.

You and Eddie shared an amused glance; he went back to poking at his food as your gaze trailed back to Amelia and company. You happened to lock eyes with Duncan, who stared at you with harsh scrutiny, as if he wasn’t buying this thing between you and Eddie in the slightest. You gave Duncan a mocking while, starting to wave before flipping him off, causing Eddie to snort and choke on his food. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he hit his chest a couple of times, trying to clear his throat. The sound of such a genuine laugh escaping you was absolutely foreign to Eddie, but he decided it was a sound he enjoyed, even if it was at his expense; he made a mental note that he had to find ways to make you laugh more that didn’t involve him choking.

“You could’ve killed me.” Eddie croaked before laughing himself, his smile wide.

“You’re fine.” You teased, squeezing his fingers while giving him a false pout of sympathy, “You big baby.”

Eddie rolled his eyes in amusement, digging his wallet out while finally relinquishing the grip he had on your hand, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He tossed money onto the table and stood, offering his hand to you again. You quickly snagged one last fry before accepting Eddie’s hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He once again laced his fingers with yours as he led you through the crowded diner, and you had to fight back the desire to cringe in confusion at it. The both of you eyed the crowd of Hawkins High’s elite as they watched you back critically.

Once outside the diner, Eddie paused in front of one of the large windows and pulled a ridiculous face at the kids still watching you; he quickly tugged your arm, leading you back towards the van as you laughed again at his antics.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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rubycruzin4abruzin · 18 days

Text

I hate you, too

Summary: Ruby is your acting rival as well as your sworn enemy. When you’re cast in the same movie, you struggle with the fight choreography, an area which your co-star excels at. What will you do when you have no choice but to swallow your pride and ask her for extra help?

Pairing: ruby cruz x actress!reader

Contains: mature language, some adult humor, kissing, angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, walked in on while changing, non-sexual knife play, clumsy!reader, publicity tweets, there was only One Trailer

Word Count: 6.6k (told you it’s a slow burn)

A/N: This is a Real Person Fiction, RPF Guidelines still stand. Morally, I refuse to write smut for Ruby Cruz. That being said, I miss writing smut!! Dying to write some Kit Tanthalos smut after this, if anyone has a request feel free to send it in. That being said, Ruby is always super fun to write for, and I hope y’all enjoy! :)

———

If you never saw Ruby Cruz again, it would be too soon.

You first encountered her shortly after moving to Los Angeles to pursue acting. During a meeting with your agent to discuss a contract, she entered unannounced, as if the office belonged to her.

“Hey Estelle, I’m here to pick up the ‘Mare of Easttown’ audition sides,” she stated, barely glancing in your direction.

Estelle handed her a stack of papers before introducing you. “This is Ruby Cruz, one of my regular clients. You two will likely be seeing a lot of each other.”

Ruby finally turned toward you, assessing you with her bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce through your soul. She gave you a curt smile, and offered her hand.

“Nice to meet you. Estelle’s the best; you’re gonna love her.”

You shook her hand as Estelle chuckled at the flattery, shaking her head and modestly dismissing it.

“Ruby has an audition next week for that ‘Mare of Easttown’ show… which reminds me! I think you could also be a good fit for that. We can discuss more later, but for now, let me at least get you the audition sides.”

Estelle began to gather nearby papers into a stack, stapling the corner before handing them to you. Excitement bubbled in your chest at the thought of acting in a show as notable as ‘Mare of Easttown.’

Ruby hummed, clucking her tongue as you flipped through the stack of papers. Glancing up at her from your seat, you could have sworn you saw her eyes squint, almost as if she now saw you as nothing more than competition.

“In that case, hope you break a leg.”

With a wave goodbye to Estelle, she left the office. You couldn’t place it at the time, but something about her tone felt… off.

The audition came and went, and it was just your luck that Ruby ended up landing the role. Of course, it became her breakout role, one that juiced up her resume and propelled her career.

Initially, it didn’t bother you that much; after all it was just one audition. However, given that you were both conventionally attractive actresses in the same age range, Estelle frequently recommended you for the same roles. You began to see her face at every single audition, and frankly, you were sick of it.

That’s not to say you lost every role to Ruby Cruz; sure she was your competition, but you both had your share of the limelight. She was Hazel Callahan in “Bottoms,” and you were Harper McCallington in “Out & Uncool.” While she was busy filming for “Willow” as Princess Kit Tanthalos, you starred as Empress Kian Thorne in a limited series entitled “Cottonwood.”

You were a tad jealous that Ruby landed a continuing series while yours was limited, so when you found out about “Willow” being abruptly canceled after one season, you couldn’t help but revel in the schadenfreude.

Despite your individual successes, you harbored a deep dislike for Ruby. Yes, she was pretty, with pale blue eyes and dark hair that offset her ivory skin, but watching her stride into every audition wearing that all-too-familiar smug smile only fueled your resentment and made your blood boil.

Several months after moving to LA, one particular audition day commenced with a morning from hell. You woke up groggy with your hair in a rats nest, and spent the majority of the morning battling with the bathroom mirror in an attempt to render yourself presentable. Once you could actually run a comb through it, a quick glance at a clock revealed you were running late. Hastily, you grabbed your resume, poured some of your roommates' leftover coffee into a travel mug, and dashed out the door in a race against time.

Curses flew out of your mouth while you sat in the infamous LA traffic, fingers tapping anxiously against the steering wheel while your eyes darted towards the clock.

Arriving at the audition site, you parked haphazardly and rushed to the entrance, coffee sloshing against your mug with every step. Pushing open the doors, you immediately caught sight of the very person you knew you would see but secretly wished you wouldn’t.

There was Ruby, sitting in the waiting room, too focused on studying her audition material to even notice you had walked in. She wore a white blouse with floral patterns, jeans, and white converse—an undoubtedly effortless outfit that looked so good on her, it genuinely annoyed you.

Shaking your head, you tried to push aside any thoughts of Ruby and focus on the audition. As you stepped towards the sign-in table, your notorious clumsiness struck as you mis-stepped and tripped over your own foot. Fortunately, you managed to catch yourself before face-planting, but you lost control of your mug, ending up spilling coffee all over your sworn enemy.

Ruby stood up in shock, the lukewarm liquid staining her white blouse and smudging the ink on her papers. She lifted her head, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

“What the hell!” She exclaimed.

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open in shock. “Shit, Ruby, I’m so…”

“You did that on purpose!”

The brewing apology halted at her accusation. Indignation swelled within you, and the urge to defend yourself took over.

“Excuse me? It was an accident! Jesus!”

“You don’t think I know you don’t like me?” She spat back. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

By now, everyone else in the waiting room was watching the two of you, while the stage manager at the sign-in table desperately tried to de-escalate the situation.

You felt your face flush at the unwanted attention as you attempted to lower your voice. “Ruby, I may not be your biggest fan, but I would never do something like that on purpose.”

“Oh please, I know your type. You would do anything to land a role, even if it’s underhanded!”

“For fucks sake, Ruby!” You rolled your eyes, exasperated at this conversation. “I land roles just fine on my own. Not everything is about you!”

“You’re seriously standing here telling me that ‘not everything is about me’ when you’re the one who ruined my blouse right before an audition?!”

“What is the meaning of this?!”

You and Ruby turned your heads toward the unidentified voice to see what appeared to be the director of the project standing in the doorway. He peered down at the two of you with an icy glare, while the stage manager stood next to him with her arms crossed.

A gulp involuntarily forced its way down your throat. You looked over at Ruby, who stood frozen with all the color seemingly drained from her face. Both of you waited with baited breath for the director's next move as his nostrils flared.

“Both of you. Out. Now.”

“There’s good news, and bad news.”

You and Ruby stared at Estelle from across her desk, shame and embarrassment radiating from the both of you. Last week's altercation at the audition made headlines on LA Twitter news, prompting her to call an emergency meeting to discuss next steps.

“You already know the bad news,” Estelle sighed. “Word got out about your little ‘stunt.’ As of right now, neither of you have great reputations in the Hollywood eye.”

Estelle turned to look directly at you, making you shrink in your seat. “Not many people want to work with an actor who would sabotage another actor’s audition to get a leg-up.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but immediately closed it upon seeing the look on Estelle’s face. She looked away from you, focusing her attention on Ruby next.

“And no one wants to work with a hothead who causes scenes and goes on public cursing sprees.”

Ruby squirmed under Estelle’s scrutiny, looking down at her lap to avoid eye contact.

Estelle leaned back in her chair, glancing back and forth between the two of you. “Fortunately, there is some good news.”

Your ears perked up at this, curious as to what kind of good would come out of this kind of publicity. Glancing over at Ruby, you noticed she raised her gaze while still keeping her head lowered. Estelle continued.

“Another director caught wind of the situation and contacted me immediately. Apparently, he’s been toying with this idea for a movie about two rival mafia bosses who go undercover as high school cheerleaders. He is adamant that the two of you play the leading roles.”

Shock painted your features as you attempted to process what Estelle just told you. You looked over at Ruby, who seemed just as bewildered as you.

“So, this director wants to work with two people who can’t stand each other?” She inquired.

Estelle shrugged. “I’ve been told he’s very… method. Authenticity is everything to him, no matter what the consequences. Still, people say to trust his process because he’s extremely brilliant.”

She pulled out a couple business cards and handed them to the both of you, his name in thick black font jumping out from the white background.

Calvin Cunningham. Film Director.

Calvin Cunningham turned out to be quite the character.

He was brutally honest, always saying exactly what he thought of something. He engaged with the cast and crew as if they were his best friends, but if something wasn’t up to his standards, he never hesitated to voice his dissatisfaction.

His methods were eccentric and unusual, with an unwavering commitment to authenticity. They were unorthodox, but if they proved to be effective, he couldn’t care less about the cost.

On the first day of shooting, after being given your trailer assignment, you were about to go inside when you saw something that made you stop dead in your tracks. There, hanging on the back of the trailer door, was a big gold star with two names engraved into it.

Yours… and Ruby’s.

Outraged, you turned and marched towards Calvin, only to find him already in conversation with a head of loathsome brunette locks.

“This has to be some mistake,” cried Ruby. “I can’t share a trailer with her!”

“Ditto.” You piped up, moving to stand next to your rival.

Calvin shook his head. “No mistake. You guys can’t stand each other, and I want to maintain that energy throughout filming. I figured some forced proximity could help to fuel that fire.”

“Please, Calvin. I will literally share with anyone else,” you pleaded, words falling on deaf ears as Calvin simply turned and walked away from the two of you.

Ruby turned to glare at you with shrunken pupils, and you reciprocated with a side-eye right back. As you both began your way over to your shared trailer, you couldn’t help but acknowledge: this might be the first time you and Ruby actually agreed on something.

Filming was going well, all things considered. You and Ruby spent your days on set, hashing out all your hatred towards each other in front of the camera, and then pretty much ignored each other otherwise.

Changing could be slightly awkward, given the shared trailer, but you and Ruby had an unspoken agreement to keep to yourselves. Nevertheless, the trailer was a tight space, allowing you to see everything within your peripheral vision. Despite your disdain for Ruby, you couldn’t help but admire the delicate curve of her tapered waist and how it contrasted against her toned stomach. Even you could appreciate how her hair became disheveled every time she lifted a clothing item over her head, prompting her to shake it out until her short tresses tumbled over her shoulder.

You chalked it up to vanity, but sometimes you swore you caught her checking you out from the corner of her eye, too.

One day, while checking your schedule for the upcoming week, you noticed a choreography rehearsal planned for the big knife fight scene towards the end of the movie. Dread immediately consumed you, settling in your stomach like a boulder reaching the bottom of a hill.

It wasn’t because you were worried about getting into a knife fight with Ruby; you knew the weapons were harmless props and posed no threat to your safety. You dreaded any kind of choreography rehearsal, as you were notoriously an uncoordinated klutz. It was like you bore a curse of delayed reaction times and two left feet—a burden that weighed on your shoulders like an anchor.

On the day of the rehearsal, you walked into the stunt room to see Ruby already there, stretching in yoga pants and a crop top that hung just below her ribcage. Calvin stood in the corner conversing with the choreographer, Lucas: an effeminate man with a muscular build that offset his short stature.

Minutes after you started stretching, Lucas blew his whistle, calling you and Ruby over to the center of the room.

“Hey guys! Hope you’re as excited as I am to do some fight choreography.” He chirped, flashing a toothy grin.

While Lucas spoke, your attention shifted to Ruby. She stood confidently, her hands resting on her hips as she listened for instructions. You rolled your eyes. Of course she was confident, she had plenty of combat training during “Willow,” and even more during “Bottoms.”

As much as you hated to admit it, this was one area where Ruby outshone you.

“In this scene,” Lucas explained, handing each of you a prop knife labeled with your characters names. “Quinn and Gia both realize they’re from rival mafia families, and draw their weapons at the regional cheer competition.”

You turned the knife over in your hand, running your thumb over the “Quinn” sticker on the handle. “Is this… a real knife?”

Lucas nodded. “Yes, but it’s been dulled for your safety. Don’t worry.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing your lack of coordination posed less of a threat now.

Lucas continued. “For the first part, Quinn, advance towards Gia with the knife raised, like you want to slit her throat. Gia, sidestep and dodge her attack.”

You positioned your knife and lunged at Ruby, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding after she successfully avoided the blade.

Lucas nodded in approval. “Great! Now Gia, advance towards Quinn with your weapon, and she’ll block and engage.”

Ruby lunged at you, but when you tried to block her attack, the knife slipped from your grip and fell from your hand. Your face flushed as you stared at the blade, now lying on the plush mat.

“What was that?” Calvin interrupted, still watching from the corner of the room.

Lucas shot him a sheepish grin. “It’s ok, Calvin. It’s just the first rehearsal.”

Calvin grumbled incoherently as you bent down to pick up your knife. You noticed Ruby’s lips curl into a subtle smirk at your mishap, provoking an eye-roll from you.

“Let’s try that again,” Lucas stated. “This time, Gia, why don’t you try advancing a little slower?”

Ruby nodded, and moved towards you seemingly in slow-motion. This time, you managed the block successfully and engaged your weapons without issue.

Lucas beamed in approval. “Great! Let’s move on.”

He went on with instructions, leading you through the engagement of your weapons. Despite the slow pace, you repeatedly made a fool of yourself throughout the entire rehearsal. Sweaty palms hindered your grip on the knife, and you even managed to confuse your left from your right. Calvin stood fuming in the corner, while Ruby’s initially smug demeanor gradually turned into one of annoyance.

“Alright,” Lucas started, wiping his brow and forcing a tight smile. “For this last part, Gia, focus on disarming your opponent, and then tackle her. Quinn, this should be pretty easy. All you have to do is keep yourself open and fall.”

You gulped and assumed the ‘ready’ position, locking eyes with Ruby. She advanced, carefully redirecting your blade before grabbing your shoulders to push you onto your back. Unfortunately, as you were going down, a misstep caused you to lose your footing. Your arms flailed out of instinct, and in the search for stability, you inadvertently dragged the blade across Ruby’s cheek, leaving a bright red cut in its wake.

Startled, she hissed and dropped you onto the mat, hands moving to cradle her injured cheek. “Ouch! What the hell?!”

Calvin and Lucas rushed to Ruby’s side while you stared at your freshly-bloodied knife and tried to process what had just happened. “I thought you said they were dulled!”

“Well yeah, but they’re still real knives!” Lucas exclaimed, moving Ruby’s hand to see the cut.

A stream of apologies flew from your mouth immediately, but Ruby only responded with an icy glare and Calvin mumbled something about the makeup artist before storming out of the room. A lump rose to your throat as you blinked back tears, humiliated and filled with guilt. Once again, your clumsiness managed to ruin things for the people around you.

As you got up to leave the room, you looked back and met Ruby’s gaze. This time, instead of annoyance or anger, her face held only a look of pity as she watched you walk away.

At the end of the day, after you and Ruby were no longer needed on set, you found yourself standing outside your shared trailer, hands wringing in anticipation for what you were about to do.

Despite your best efforts, you knew your struggle to grasp the fight choreography was impeding production. Ruby, on the other hand, excelled at stage combat. You needed the extra practice, and Lucas had already gone home. After several hours of contemplation, you resolved to set aside your pride and seek help from your sworn enemy.

With a deep breath, you entered the trailer. Ruby was already inside, dressed in yoga pants and a sports bra, clearly in the middle of changing. You felt your cheeks flush as she spun around, revealing a neon green band-aid on her right cheek.

“Ever heard of knocking?” She spat, covering herself defensively.

Your brows furrowed in disbelief. “It’s my trailer too!”

She scoffed, turning around to finish putting her shirt on. You sighed, knowing the odds were already not in your favor.

“Fine, I’m sorry,” you began, prompting her to look back at you, puzzled. “Not about the trailer, but about the knife, and the coffee, and just… everything. I know you think I’m out to get you, but I’m not, I’m just really accident-prone, and for that I’m sorry.”

Her gaze softened slightly, and she nodded, silently accepting your apology. You continued, avoiding eye contact for what you were about to ask.

“Listen… I need your help.”

Your words took her by surprise. “With what?”

“Fight choreography,” you pressed. “I know we don’t really get along, and I wouldn’t ask if I had literally any other option, but you’re incredible at stage combat. Please, I could really use the practice.

“No argument there,” she snarled. “But why should I help you?”

“Because we’re co-stars, if I look good, you look good. Besides, do you really want to risk another one of those?” You gestured to the band-aid on her cheek.

Ruby touched the bandaged wound, wincing from the pain.

Defeated, she groaned. “Fine, I’ll help you, but only on two conditions.”

She stepped closer until she was inches from your face, close enough that her warm breath grazed your skin. You felt the sharp jab of her finger in your chest as she locked eyes with you.

“First, during training, you do everything I say, exactly as I say it. And second…” she moved back, crossing her arms with a smirk. “…you owe me a favor.”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “What do you want?”

“I’ll let you know when I think of something,” she replied. “As of right now, we have a fight to train for.”

You followed her to the stunt room, now fully unoccupied as most of the crew had gone home. Ruby switched on the lights and made her way to the props table while you took your spot on one of the mats.

“Hmm,” she scrunched up her nose as she picked up the knives you had used to train earlier. “I really don’t trust you with a weapon right now. No offense.”

“None taken,” you replied, pleasantly surprised at the lack of offense.

Ruby moved around the room in search of a safer substitute. She ended up at a supply cabinet, and sifted through it until she proudly held up a miniature pool noodle.

“Noodles!” She announced, grabbing one and handing you another.

“Perfect,” you exhaled, relieved.

Ruby assumed the ‘ready’ position across from you while you mirrored her stance, gripping the pool noodle as if it were your knife.

“Alright,” she started. “Why don’t we skip the exposition, since there’s no issues there. Let’s jump to the weapon engagement.”

You stepped forward, engaging with Ruby’s noodle. She nodded in approval before continuing the choreography.

“Left, right, no… right. Wait… do you not know your left from your right?”

Embarrassed, you dropped your gaze to the mat. “I do… I just… have to stop and think about it sometimes…”

Ruby chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I am totally going to give you shit about that later, but for now, let’s just work on muscle memory.”

She moved behind you, reaching around to take hold of your wrists before leaning into whisper. “Is this ok?”

A shudder traveled down your spine as her breath tickled your ear, a subtle expression you prayed she didn’t notice. “Y-yeah… you’re good.”

The way her fingertips brushed so gently against your skin felt like a million tiny shocks of electricity, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

“Left, right, left-left, right,” she guided your dominant hand through the movements. “Over, under, around and right.”

She repeated the sequence once more before letting go of you, stepping back to observe. “Show it to me.”

You demonstrated flawlessly, earning a beam of approval.

“Good. Let’s move on.”

From there, Ruby continued to guide you through the combat sequence in its entirety, stopping repeatedly to work out the kinks and offer helpful tips. She taught you where to hold your body weight so you didn’t stumble, and even showed you how to look like you fell on purpose, if necessary. As much as you hated the girl, you had to admit, she was a pretty good teacher.

Eventually, after hours of training, you reached the last step of the routine. Both of you were drenched in sweat and panting hard, but determined to make it to the end.

“Now…” Ruby rested her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. “Last but not least: the fall. So to start, I push down on your shoulders…”

She placed her hands near your collarbone and gently pushed, causing your arms to flail and smack her with the pool noodle. Immediately letting go of you, she took a step back with her hands up. You froze, expecting her to yell at you, but to your surprise she threw her head back in laughter.

“And that…” she pointed to the band-aid on her cheek “…is how this happened.”

You forced a nervous giggle in response as you stared at her hysterical disposition. Her laugh was crisp, almost melodic, like windchimes in a summer breeze. You weren’t quite sure what she found so funny; perhaps she was so tired from the long rehearsal, she collapsed into a state of hysteria.

Ruby calmed down after a minute or two, wiping away a tear as her breathing subsided. “So, I’m guessing you don’t like having your shoulders touched?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. I guess it just feels constricting to have someone pushing me while I’m trying to fall safely.”

She clicked her tongue, seemingly deep in thought. “Hmm… why don’t we modify it a little bit? I could push you by your hips, let you fall, and then pin you down.”

“Can we do that?” You asked, concerned about getting into trouble again.

“Yeah, it’s not a huge change. I’m sure Lucas won’t mind. Besides, actor safety is always number one priority… and that includes my own.” She gestured to her cheek again with a lopsided smirk, prompting you to grimace apologetically.

You centered your body weight as she approached you, grasping your sides before letting her fingers wrap around your hip bones. She met your eyes, searching for approval.

“Better?” She asked.

Your voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper. “Yeah. Much better.”

“The most important thing,” she explained, “is to keep your body open.”

She moved her hands from your hips up to your arms, positioning them until they were spread out on each side, as if you were preparing for a big hug.

“When I disarm you, move your arms to the side like this. That way, you’ll have more control over a fall, and I’ll have less chance of getting cut.”

You nodded in understanding as she took a step back, preparing for the attack.

“Slow motion, ok? No rush.”

She carefully walked towards you and grabbed your hips, pushing with gentle pressure. Keeping your body open, you fell safely to the mat, back flat on the floor and arms spread out to your sides.

Ruby stood over you wearing a look of pride and satisfaction before offering out her hand to help you up from the mat.

“Wow,” she exclaimed with a breathless chuckle. “I’m a really great teacher.”

You rolled your eyes at her familiar cocky attitude. “Mhm… so, is that it?”

“Not yet. One more time, from the top. Let’s put it all together.”

“Full speed?” You asked, getting into position.

She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, breathing heavily as she moved to stand across from you. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

On her count, you lunged at her with your noodle before she sidestepped and dodged the attack. She reciprocated with an advance of her own, prompting you to block it and successfully engage your props.

“Left, right, left-left, right,” she called out. “Over, under, around and right.”

The two of you continued sparring, each movement now pristine and polished. Droplets of sweat scattered from your skin as your props flew at lightning speed, every advance met with a clean block or countered with the appropriate attack. It was like your bodies were in perfect sync, months of built up tension finally surfacing to glide seamlessly through combat.

As you reached the end of the routine, Ruby expelled your weapon, disarming you and prompting your arms to extend. She seized your hips, fingertips pressing into your plush sides, and pushed until you could fall safely. Back now flat against the mat, she crawled on top of you, straddling your hips while planting her hands on either side of your head.

Time seemingly froze as Ruby hovered above you, keeping you trapped underneath her. Her face was close, so close that you were panting into each other's mouths. You stared up at her, noticing her bright blue eyes had turned significantly darker, and you swore, just for a split second, you saw them glance down at your lips.

“You…” she panted, breathless. “Y-you…”

Your heart pounded in your chest, flustered from the mix of adrenalines. “W-what about me?”

“You… you smell… so bad.”

With that, she immediately picked herself off of you, leaving you lying in a heap on the mat.

Annoyed and confused, you sat up to glare at her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she turned away from you and cracked her back. “We’ve been in here for awhile, and you really need a shower.”

“Look who’s talking,” you spat back. “Your hair is literally sticking to your forehead!”

She reached up, awkwardly brushing her hair out of her face while mumbling something incoherent. It was like the air around you had suddenly turned thick with tension, neither of you daring to speak up for fear of saying what you were both thinking.

You decided to break the silence. “What time is it?”

Ruby glanced at her watch. “Almost 1am.”

“Shit,” you responded, not realizing it had gotten so late. “Guess we should…”

“Yeah,” she cut you off.

Without another word, the two of you gathered your things to leave for the evening. On the way out, neither of you offered a “bye” or “see you tomorrow,” but both of you turned to glance back when the other wasn’t looking.

For the remainder of the week, you and Ruby avoided each other like the plague, but not necessarily in the way you had previously. Before, there was always a palpable negative energy looming between the two of you, something Calvin could exploit for the cameras. Now, your scenes read awkwardly, both of you too preoccupied the events of the other night to properly engage in animosity.

This shift in dynamic didn’t go unnoticed by the cast and crew, especially Calvin, who never hesitated to hide his frustration. He desperately sought chemistry, and realized that forcing you to share a trailer wasn’t cutting it anymore. At this point, he was willing to do whatever it took to reignite that spark.

One day, Calvin informed you that lunch would be served in the stunt room. It seemed odd, food being served in the industry equivalent to a trampoline park, but Calvin typically had some rationale behind his unconventional ideas, so you didn’t question it.

When lunch break rolled around, you walked into the stunt room to find it completely dark and empty, aside from Ruby, who stood in the center of the room looking confused. Upon seeing you, she froze.

“Uh… hey.” She muttered, pointing her gaze to the floor.

“Hey yourself,” you replied awkwardly. “Uhm, did Calvin tell you lunch was being served here?”

“Yeah, actually,” she furrowed her brow, glancing around the room. “But I haven’t seen any caterers or anything.”

“Weird, I wonder why he would-“

Suddenly, you were cut off by a door slam, followed by the sharp click of a lock. You and Ruby stared at each other, panic-stricken on your faces before rushing to try the door handle.

“What the… hey! Let us out!” Ruby shouted, pounding on the door after the handle wouldn’t budge.

As you watched Ruby struggle against the door, realization hit you like a ton of bricks. “Calvin!”

“What are you talking about?” Ruby growled.

“Think about it,” you explained. “He’s been frustrated with us all week, our scenes have sucked, he lied to both of us…”

Giving up on the door, Ruby leaned against it and turned to glare at you. “You think he locked us in here on purpose?”

You shot her a knowing look. She groaned frustratedly, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head back against the door.

“That is exactly something he would do,” she exclaimed.

“Someone’s going to sue that man one day,” you huffed.

Ruby snickered in agreement. “Why don’t we?”

“Pretty sure that would require us to actually talk to each other.”

Silence fell between the two of you, as what was supposed to be a lighthearted joke turned into you accidentally addressing the elephant in the room.

“It’s not like we ever talked much before…” Ruby muttered, breaking the silence.

“That’s not true,” you argued. “We used to bicker constantly. Now we’re just… weird.”

“This whole week has been weird.” Ruby agreed.

“Why?” You pushed, squinting at her. “You helped me out with a fight scene, and now we’re like two twelve-year-olds at a middle school dance. How does that make sense?”

“I don’t know! I just…” Ruby sighed exasperatedly, and put her head in her hands.

Your gaze softened as you realized the brunette was struggling with her words. Usually, she radiated confidence, an attribute of hers that made you burn with jealousy. Now, she exuberated hesitance like you’d never seen, with her body backed up against the door and her face covered with her hands.

You took a step towards her, and spoke softly. “Ruby, you and I both know we’re not getting out of here until we start talking.”

Realizing you had a point, Ruby groaned and dropped her hands. She refused to look you in the eye, instead opting to stare at your feet while she searched for the right words.

“When we were… fighting,” she began, chewing on each word as if it were molasses. “There was a moment where… I had you pinned…”

She swallowed involuntarily at the blatant description. Your face flushed, but you nodded in an attempt to coax more out of her.

“I was looking down at you… and… I guess… I just realized… maybe I don’t… hate you… as much as I thought I did.”

The moisture drained from your mouth as her confession caught you completely off guard. Half of you had the urge to make fun of her, and the other half just wanted to grab her shoulders and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.

Instead, you decided to probe on. “You don’t?”

“I don’t think I ever did,” she confessed in a half-whisper. “I never really got to know you before, I think I just… saw you as competition. I mean, you were at every audition, how could I not? I think my mind just filled in the blanks? I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you know?” You asked, moving closer and causing her breath to hitch as she was caught between you and the door.

“I think… no, I know… you don’t… hate me either?”

She apprehensively searched your features for an answer, as what was supposed to be a statement came out as more of a question. You nodded, prompting her to exhale in relief before continuing.

“I know that I don’t have to see you as competition. I know that it may have taken me a while to realize it, but the time we’ve spent together on set has been the best month of my life. I know that I hate feeling vulnerable, so if you ever tell anyone about this I’ll deny it… and then I probably actually will hate you.”

You chuckled at her joke, and she began to relax as a warm smile spread across her face. By now, you had moved close enough that your faces were mere inches from each other, and you could just barely hear her breathing over the pounding of your heartbeat.

“So… what now?” You asked, secretly hoping for one specific answer.

She glanced down at your lips, eyeing them hungrily as she hesitated. “I, uh… I think I know… what I want that favor to be.”

Your eyes widened, surprised at her sudden bold demeanor. But as you gazed at her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and eyes filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension, you knew there was nothing in the world that could stop you from fulfilling that favor.

Grabbing her jaw, you brought her face closer and crashed your lips together. A small gasp escaped her lips at first, but she soon grasped at your sides and started to kiss back. Her lips were soft, but her kisses were rough and passionate, something you weren’t surprised at given her usual fiery personality.

Her middle finger wrapped around one of the belt loops on your jeans, giving her leverage to pull you closer to her. A quiet whimper erupted from the back of your throat, the feeling of her body pressed against yours being enough to make your knees buckle. You grabbed onto the back of her neck for support, simultaneously pulling her towards you even more and spurring moans of approval from your newfound lover.

Eventually, you pulled apart, both of you gasping to catch your breath, but neither of you letting go of the other. As you stood there, wrapped in Ruby’s embrace, you couldn’t help but survey her features. Her eyes had darkened from overwhelming desire, and her lips were pink and puffy, coated with your saliva. Her originally shiny brunette locks were now disheveled, stray hairs sticking out from the static electricity of being thrust against the door.

She was a mess, but in that moment, you swore you had never seen anything more beautiful.

A breathy chuckle left her parted lips, breaking the silence. “I, uh… I was actually just gonna ask if you knew how to pick a lock.”

Your jaw dropped in shock as you stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

She shook her head no, erupting into laughter at her own joke. You glared at her, unamused, but soon found yourself stifling a giggle. Enemies or otherwise, Ruby was always going to be a sarcastic hothead, and nothing could change that.

“Wow…” she sighed breathlessly.

“I know…” you agreed. “Guess we should thank Calvin, huh?”

Ruby began to chuckle before her eyes suddenly widened in horror. “Shit, Calvin!”

“Yeah?” You questioned, confused at her change in demeanor. “What about Calvin?”

“He casted us together because we hated each other,” she whisper-screamed, eyes darting between you and the locked door. “Everything he’s done has been to fuel the fire: forcing us to share a trailer, locking us in here! He wants us to hate each other, he doesn’t care what it takes! If he finds out about this…”

Panic washed over you as your mind swarmed with possible things Calvin would do to taint your relationship if he found out about your feelings for each other.

“Shit,” you exclaimed. “What do we do?”

Ruby pursed her lips, deep in thought as she racked her brain for ideas. Suddenly, as if a lightbulb went off in her head, she turned to you with a wicked grin.

“We’re actors,” she replied. “We act.”

Gripping your shoulders, she walked you backwards before letting go and returning to her original position. Confusion painted your features; you didn’t know what Ruby was up to, but you were curious to find out.

“You are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met,” she exclaimed loudly. “In fact, you’re the last person I’d ever want to be stuck filming with!”

Her sudden shift in attitude left you puzzled and a little hurt, but you quickly understood her intentions after she shot you a sly wink.

“Oh yeah?” You retorted, playing along. “Right back atcha! In fact, if I never saw you again, it’d be too soon!”

Ruby stifled a laugh before quickly getting back into character. “I hate you!”

“I hate you more!”

“Fine!”

At this last remark, the sharp click of the lock sounded again, and the door swung open. Calvin stood in the doorway, a huge ear-to-ear grin spread across his face.

“Welcome back, you two.”

He left the door open, and motioned for you to follow him out. You started to exit the room, but as soon as Calvin’s back was turned, Ruby grabbed your wrist and spun you around to capture your lips in hers once again.

A sharp inhale echoed against the back of your throat as she took you by surprise, but you pulled her close and kissed her back in a heartbeat. This kiss was different from the last, with the newfound excitement mixing with the terrifying prospect of being caught. The rush of adrenalines had never tasted so sweet.

Ruby pulled back with haste, immediately looking over her shoulder to make sure Calvin didn’t see. When the coast was clear, she turned back to you with half-lidded eyes.

“I hate you,” she muttered, a goofy grin spreading across her face.

You giggled, covering your mouth to suppress the sound before leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“I hate you, too.”

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pia-nor481 · 7 months

Text

Wine and Whisky (part one)

Charles Leclerc x fem reader smut

18+

“Celebration?” Charles had paused in packing up his things to turn and look at her, raising a brow at her excited gaze. “Of course, you won. At Ferrari, that’s worth celebrating.” She smiled softly at him, wanting to bring some lightheartedness to an awful season for him. She simply assumed he would brush her off due to his exhaustion from the resent race. He had already decided that going out to a club and celebrating with the other drivers was not a wise idea.

“Merci, Cherie.” Charles spoke rather softly. She pulled out a bottle of Madeira for herself and a bottle of bourbon for Charles, knowing he’s not fond of red wine. “Well, cheers to you or something.” She raised her glass, offering a smile he could not resist. He touched their classes before taking a sip. “Or something.” He inhaled sharply, not expecting the proof of the alcohol to burn his throat so much. “Still wine then?” He almost giggled out, looking at her fondly.

“You will never get me to like whisky, Charles, never.” She spoke, chastising him for thinking such a thought. “Well, it was worth a shot.” He began to walk a way from the table, with her following him through the hotel room, towards the bed. This was nothing new, he would often walk her around the room, no matter where they were. He was always a gentleman. The only difference now, was his lingering stares.

Charles drank up his whiskey with ease, and she was left to ponder every single one of her choices that got her here. She witnessed all of Charles ego ooze out from the corners of his lips and the squint of his eyes in his slight wince to the burn of the alcohol. She quickly began to tilt her glass back, swallowing the red liquid. Smiling as the buzz began to set in. Was it from the alcohol? Or from how fast she threw her head back? Or the barrage of Charles’ pretty eyes looking over her, like she was the calm after the storm. She stopped caring about the reason, only focusing on the feeling.

She took slow steps across the room, her fingers brushing along the lip of a shelf. Drinking her second glass of wine, she took a glance at Charles, and something was behind his eyes. “Curious.” He suddenly spoke, breaking the heat of his gaze as he looked into his glass and swirled his drink around. Anticipating his next set of words, only taking the few steps towards him to pour yourself another glass. “What is curious?” She asked noticing how deep in thought he was, like he was trying to find the right words to articulate his next sentence. He was careful about the things he said, and more often than not, the things he said were always something that could be latched onto for days.

The clunk of the nearly empty wine bottle on the table seemed to rattle her body like it was hollow, and all that could be heard was beating hearts. in tune was the beat of her heart. He knew that’s she would somehow figure out his ulterior motives for bringing her into the bedroom. Even if she was the one bringing drinks. “What do you mean?” She whispered out, walking back towards him. Charles began to smirk at her fane innocence. “No, no, no Cherie.” He reached out, pulling her toward him. Her hands ghosted over his neck and jaw. “There’s more to this than a simple celebration, right? Tu es une vilaine petite coquine.”

She swallowed hard while his hands roamed up and down her hips. “And what if there is more to it than that?” She spoke with the intention to pull an answer from him first, but her voice was far from confident, it was almost too quiet with a quiver along the edges, all from his teasing. Of course, Charles knew better than to fall for that kind of bait, and it seemed he knew just how to get what he wanted. Or perhaps she was just submissive for him, she just couldn’t resist. “I’d like to hear it from you.” He darted his tongue out, licking his lips. “Oh come on, you know. Don’t make me say it.” Her heart rate began to rise, pupils dilating and breath quickening.

Lust filled his eyes as he pulled her impossibly closer, drinks still in hand. “Suppose I do know.” Charles said slowly, his voice a much lower octave. It was so quite, almost as if he was worried the press would hear. Her eyebrows raised at his words, and she lowered her glass, knuckles brushing the fabric of his shirt where his chest was. While he leaned in, she tilted her head down, sill between his legs as he was sat on the edge of the bed. It was just a breath away, and now she could really smell the whiskey on his lips. She wondered silently how the bourbon tasted on his tongue, and Charles smiled as if he knew what he was thinking. “I think you should give it another go.” He said, almost mocking her. Yet he softened the blow by grabbing her jaw lightly, pressing his thumb to her bottom lip. She felt almost pathetic, giving in so easily.

All it took was a slight tug for her to take him up on the offer, moaning almost immediately as Charles pulled her in; giving no room to move as his arms snaked around her waist. With one hand on the back of her neck, the kiss started slow and then quickly became passionate. The thick taste of whisky coating her lips caused heat to rise to her face. The edge of the glass was pressed lightly into her back making it arch slightly. With his teeth nipping her bottom lip and the slight pressure on her neck she hummed out his name, his response was to turn them over and gently push her down on to the bed.

There was stumbling as Charles began to drag her back with him, giggles in between and quiet gasps with the slip of a tongue, very poor attempts to keep each other’s drinks upright. “Charles, I could’ve spilled the whole glass.” She huffed out, holding the glass high as she laid against the white bedding and looked up at him. Charles was standing just between her knees, he lowered his gaze, slowly taking the whole view in, savouring the sight the best he could.

Without a word, he simply pulled the drink out of her raised hand and set both glasses on the side table. It was a silent for a moment. Until he climbed over and caged her head just between his arms. His gaze was hot and hungry, the way his eyes raked over her with restrained desire had her squirming once their eyes met. “Look at you.” Charles whispered slowly, a drawl to his voice that caused goosebumps. “I wonder if you taste like the wine you rave about so much.” With his fingers dragging down to her neck, he wrapped them around her throat with a warm sense of security, her eyes flutter shut and she swallowed against the palm of his hand. Charles could feel her pulses right against his fingers, licking his lips just watching her. “Give me another taste,” He spoke, it was not question, but instead a demand. A groan slipped right into her mouth, and she eagerly swallowed it down.

Charles’ hand slipped down from her throat, a whine bubbling up at the loss, only for him to dive under the hem of her top. He wasted no time while his hand wandering where it squeezed at her hip and curled under the arch of her back. The top pooled at her chest. Every pinch to her nipples, and the press of his thumb into her hip bone, there was a sweet orchestra between their lips. Charles slowly slid his hand lower on her abdomen, teasing the hem of her underwear, tugging at it. But then he paused, removing his hands fully. “Charles.” She muttered out, breathless and desperate for her lovers touch. It was not fair for him to tease her, they’d not see each other much in the past few weeks.

“sois patient.” He said, squeezing her hips, then pulling away completely, coming off of the bed. She watched in agony as Charles took her discarded glass of wine from the table; her arousal grew when came back, knees on either side of her. He took a sip from her glass, she was expecting him to swallow, but his Adam’s apple didn’t bob in his throat. Tilting her head up at him, Charles arched over her to grasp at her jaw once again and pull them in for a deeper kiss. She moaned as her mouth filled with the liquid. Her fingers grasping at Charles’ wrist as he held her in place. She found the act to be way more arousing than it should have been, and he knew her well enough that she loved it, a smirk dawning his face.

“Now let’s get these off.” Charles whispered against her lips, already tugging off her clothes and throwing them somewhere over the edge of the bed. With a chaste kiss, he pushed off of her body to kneel over, a smile creeping up his kiss ridden lips as he held the glass over her. She watched with rapt attention, gasping suddenly as wine was slowly poured over her now squirming body, the feeling was cold and warm all at once, shuddering as it splashed against her skin, it dripped down her sides; soaking into the bed. It seemed he didn’t care for the mess, completely enamored with the way the wine cascaded over her, it began to poolin the smaller divots of her body. As the empty glass fell to the ground with a heavy thud, Charles’ fingers trailed from her throat, streaks of wine following in his trail as he slipped down her body to finally grasp at her hips. He shifted his weight with a foot planted on the ground and his knee snug between her legs, allowing himself to lean over her and kiss up the wine glistened skin. The sharp drag of his teeth, the scratchiness of his trimmed beard sent shivers down every vertebrae and pulled out shaky whines from her chest the lower he went.

Watching the way Charles kneeled down between her thighs, his eyes lowering to her glistening cunt with a warm yet eager kind of hunger, the slow lick of his lips and his hot breath ghosting over her body had her head dropped back against the mattress gracefully with a blissful sigh. He kissed along her inner thighs, the sting of his teeth tugging at the plushness there as he slipped down further and further, kissing around her lips with a quite hum. Her fingers began to tug on his hair as his slightly stubbled face began to burn her thighs.

Her feet curled around the flex of Charles’ back to get him as close as possible, choking on a whine as his finger slipped between, catching at her entrance before flicking up at her clit, with hips jumping with the motion, Charles smiled; his arm coming around to press down on her abdomen, only earning a shudder and a shaky groan as her body was forced down onto the bed. “Thought I told you to be patient,” His attitude came out again, just as her thighs squeezed him closer. Although his voice alone was enough to have her rubbing her thighs together regularly. He wanted her to beg, he wanted to have her aching and squirming. Charles’ hands held her thighs down firmly, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to her cunt, giving just a taste with the peak of his tongue between her folds. It was a delicate touch, the start of her blooming pleasure that unfurled in the depths of her core and spread up her now coloured throat, rolling out in a song of soft sighs and light hums.

He began to go slow, tongue working on figure eights, all while his fingers dug deep into her thighs, forcing her lips apart, keeping her legs on his shoulders. He was consistent in the fact he’d lose himself in her. He would gorge in the sweetness that dripped out of her aching sex. At this point she lifted her head. And what a mistake this was. The look in his eyes just edged her further, he coaxed his tongue inside, he reaction was an immediate moan, he breathing grew shallow with the addition of his fingers sliding between his tongue; spreading her further. She was practically on fire.

Charles’ fingers thrusted at a leisure pace, one would think it as a relaxing motion, but it only made her head spin. He was thorough with his movements, allowing her to familiarize with his fingers while he kissed and licked between her folds, paying extra attention to the way her fingers tightened in his hair each time he closed his mouth around her to fully drink it all up. He took her in with slow and meticulous waves, an annoyingly intoxicating way to his orchestration. Squirming in the restlessness of his pace, Charles’ pressed in closer, pushed his fingers in deeper and curled in time with a hungrier kiss to her clit.

Her jaw fell slack, voice drawled in her drunken moans, and it was just as Charles’ orchestrated with his tongue and his fingers. The way he consumed her with such grace, such vigor that all she could do was grasp handfuls of his hair and dig her heels deep into his shoulder blades. The dull pain caused him to grunt into her, causing her hips twitching against the flick of his tongue just in time. He needed this– he needed to know that only he could get her to that point. He gnawed softly at her cunt, not enough to hurt, but enough to listen to strung out whimpers and feel the burning tug in his scalp.

As he eased in a third finger, he pushed up against her walls, and in tandem his palm pressed down on her abdomen with his mouth surrounding her in the intoxicating heat. The pressure sent sudden shocks of pleasure throughout her body, everything growing taut as her vision blurred in pure ecstasy. Even as she tried to writhe, Charles’ held her down, tight and firm. Her hips snapped up suddenly and her back completely lifted off the mattress. The orgasm was a sight to behold, and a sight Charles did not miss for the damn world. Her broken and strung out cries was music to his ears, moaning in harmony with her as he continued to coax out every last bit of release. It was almost too much but the way his fingers massaged inside of her achingly slow, a painstakingly slow push and pull while he sucked and kissed delicately, her mind completely melted.

Her hips rolled rhythmically, she didn’t know if she wanted to push further or pull away, not that she had much of a choice with Charles’ hand firmly pressed to her abdomen like a scorching reminder of his presence. Soon it was too much, the haze so suffocating and the stimulation teetering on pain– with fingers curling tightly into Charles’ hair, she pulled him off with a relieved gasp.

“Fuck.” She panted heavily, realizing now how much her knuckles ached as she loosened her grip slowly. Glancing down, the blurry look in Charles’ eyes were wild yet satisfied, how his lips just barely grazed her sex had her shuddering. Soon, each kiss he planted in his venture had her trembling and whining, squirming and arching towards him. Lips finally connected again. The taste of her own arousal on his lips mixed with the faint bitterness of wine and whiskey wore her down to blissful sighs, her were hands too weak to grasp at anything but his arms as he hovered over her. “I would say how much I loved that, but I think you now know how divine you really taste.” Charles murmured just as he pulled away, With a peck to your lips, he pushed off and stood with a slight stumble in his landing, and she watched with squinty eyes and furrowed brows. Clearly, she were expecting something else, and he knew that. Even in bliss she managed to sit up.

“Charles?”

If there are any mistakes let me know.

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 smut #charles leclerc #Charles leclerc x reader smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #Charles leclerc imagine #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc smut #charles lechair #Charles leclerc/ reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader smut #Charles leclerc x you #CL:16

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justagalwhowrites · 22 days

Text

Halcyon - Ch. 10: People Might Think You Care About Me

You and Joel spend the holidays together. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 9, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Again, I'm here begging HBO to give me something to use for young Joel PLZ

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Mention of dieting and diet culture. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.8K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I can’t believe my kid is going to like you better than me,” Joel said, sitting in the middle of the living room floor with a roll of wrapping paper spread out in front of him. “Scissors.”

You handed them over before grabbing the tape, putting a piece on the tip of your finger before folding the paper around the box - a friendship bracelet kit - that you were wrapping for Sarah.

“I mean, first of all, your kid already likes me more than she likes you,” you teased, turning the box to do the other side. “She has good taste…”

“You’re the worst.”

“Second,” you said, ignoring him. “It is a joint gift, you’re getting tons of cool dad points out of this.”

“She’s gonna know it was your idea,” he said, adjusting the gift he was wrapping. “Hell, she’s gonna know that only one of us could have gotten tickets and it ain’t me.”

As if on cue, Swiftie - Sarah’s kitten - pounced on the box Joel was wrapping.

“Yeah, this one knows, too,” he said, scooping her up with one large hand and setting her down. “I miss when she wanted Barbies. Shit was easier.”

You laughed.

“Be happy she’s excited about anything enough that she’s going to freak out over Taylor Swift tickets,” you said. “She’s about to be a disaffected teenager, enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he muttered, “She’s stubborn enough as it is.”

“You’re in for it, Miller,” you said as your cat, Puck, climbed on your lap. You reached around him to finish taping the package you were wrapping. “She’s going to give you so much shit…”

“What if she’s just like you, hm?” Joel teased. “Gonna have a nerd for a kid…”

“Hey, I was a nerd who snuck out at night to go get drunk with the boneheaded jock,” you teased back. “You really want her to be just like me?”

“Jesus, you’re right,” Joel shook his head, finishing wrapping his present. “I’ll have to keep her far away from anyone like me for the sake of us all.”

You snorted and finished wrapping your own gift before scooping Puck into your arms, nuzzling into his fur and giving him a kiss on the head before settling with your back against your couch as you looked at the lights on the tree.

It was Christmas Eve, the first one in years you were spending without Gale and you’d never been more thankful for Joel.

Last year, you and Gale were separated but you’d felt so alone that you’d texted him the afternoon of Christmas Eve and spent most of the night and next day in bed. You’d tricked yourself then, pretended there was a chance in hell of the two of you getting back together and things going back to the way they used to be.

That hadn’t happened. You’d spent New Year’s Eve in bed, too. Except that time, you were alone.

You’d been afraid that was going to happen for you this holiday season, too. You asked Anna what she had planned for Christmas, fully expecting her to want to spend the day together. She had other things in mind.

“Honestly, ever since Mom died?” She’d shrugged. “I love using it as a day to just chill. Binge watch TV I’ve been meaning to catch up on, eat a pile of Chinese food, maybe take a bath… It’s pretty boring but I love it. And since I’ve got this little bundle on the way, I’m extra looking forward to it this year.”

“Oh,” you forced a smile, trying to hide your disappointment. “No, that sounds great.”

“Oh God,” she clamped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide for a moment. “Did you want to do something? I’m so sorry, I should have…”

“”No,” you waved her off quickly. “No, you’re good! I don’t want to disrupt your plans…”

“You can join if you want!” She said. “I mean, for everything but the bath part, that might be a little much now that we’re not kids anymore.”

“No,” you said again. “You have fun! Tradition is tradition and you need the break. Maybe I’ll do the same.”

You should have known that she would have her own way of doing things. You’d all but abandoned her during your marriage, sending perfunctory text messages and holiday cards and flying her up for a long weekend every year or so but, otherwise, you went weeks without talking. Of course she had Christmas plans that didn’t involve you. Why would she have any that did?

Joel, however, had done what he’d always done since you’d moved back to Texas: Made room for you in his life.

“Know you and Anna probably already got plans but,” he’d shrugged two weeks earlier. “If you don’t… want to spend Christmas with me n’Sarah? Tommy, too, assuming he doesn’t con his way into dinner at some girl’s house. S’OK if you don’t, just figured… I dunno…”

You’d smiled, bigger than you’d really meant to.

“You want me to spend Christmas with you?”

“I want you to spend most days with me,” he shrugged. “But you know, we gotta go out in the world and make money and shit. Anyway, Christmas. You in? Could just move in until the New Year if you really wanted…”

The last part wasn’t going to work with your obligation to go try to write a book once Christmas was through. But you had spent the last two nights at Joel’s, bringing Puck over to play with Sarah and Swiftie as the three of you watched Christmas movies and binged cookies. No papers to grade, no lawyers calling because your attorneys’ offices were closed, no pressure because you already had time set aside to write. You could really relax for the first time in what felt like an eternity and relaxing with Joel and Sarah was quickly becoming your favorite thing in the entire world.

But all that relaxing had meant there was a small pile of presents that weren’t wrapped that needed to make it under the tree. It was Christmas Eve and time had run out.

“You need to stop procrastinating,” you said, getting your egg nog that was now mostly liquor off the coffee table and taking a sip. “Can’t get away with that shit when you’re a business owner.”

“Just watch me,” he teased. “Besides, you’re one to talk, you made any progress on that book?”

“That’s what next week is for,” you said, giving the cat a kiss just as he started to get restless in your arms. You set him down. “Fingers crossed having nothing else to do will make me churn out the words.”

“Wild to me that you make money from what’s in your head,” Joel came and sat next to you. “Not that I think you shouldn’t, if anyone should it’s you. Just that anyone does at all is insane.”

“Well, I may not make money off it for long if I can’t write anything else,” you sighed. “Know what? Let’s not talk about next week. I want to live in this moment - the one where we don’t have any worries and the presents are all under the tree and Sarah is passed out - for a while longer yet.”

Joel hummed in agreement and you leaned your head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. You could smell his skin and cologne and there was still a little bacon scent from when he’d made breakfast for the three of you that morning.

“Think she’ll have a good Christmas?” Joel asked quietly, the two of you watching the lights twinkle on his tree.

“Hell yeah,” you smiled a little. “You really are an amazing Dad, Joel.”

He scoffed.

“I’m serious,” you peered up at him. “You’re lucky to have Sarah but she’s lucky as hell to have you, too. She’s going to love it.”

“Speaking of parents… anything new in the Anna situation?” Joel asked cautiously.

“It’s a girl,” you sighed. “But she seems to be keeping up with everything, thank God. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe this is the kick in the ass she’s been needing…”

“Was for me,” Joel shrugged, making your head rise with his shoulder.

You sighed again.

“Just seems like an awful lot to put on a kid,” you said. “And you might have been young and dumb but you didn’t have the shit Anna’s got on her plate. It’s a bit of a different story with her.”

“She might surprise you. But either way, we’ll make up a room for the little sucker here,” Joel said. “Just to be safe.”

“Regardless, that’s next year Goldie and Joel’s problem,” you said. “And thank fuck for that.”

“Yeah, fuck those two,” you could hear the smile on Joel’s voice. “Let’s put the wrapping paper away and go to bed, something about Santa and knowing when you’re sleeping and all that.”

You cleaned up the living room and tried not to pay attention to the nighttime routine you’d fallen into with Joel in the few days you’d been staying with him. You had your own sink in Joel’s bathroom, one that had your hair products and face wash lined up alongside it. You had your own side of the bed with your own nightstand where the book you’d been reading the last few days was nearing its end and waiting for you. If you thought about it too much, you’d miss it when it was gone. If you thought about it too much, it might seem like something you could keep.

Joel made his customary space at his side and you nestled into him, your head on his chest where you could hear his heart beat. His fingers trailed up and down your arm.

“There are upsides to a kid, you know,” he said quietly. “Christmas morning is one of ‘em. Just wait.”

You smiled a little.

“Stop keeping me awake and we won’t have to wait long,” you said.

Joel snorted.

“Yeah yeah. Night Goldie.”

“Night Joel.”

Sarah came careening into Joel’s room before 7 a.m., slamming into the bed so hard that it made your teeth rattle.

“Dad! Aunt Goldie!” She shook you both. “Wake up, it’s Christmas!”

“Yeah, alright,” Joel groaned, taking his warm arm from its place around your shoulders. You groaned, too. “You stay here with Goldie while I go put the coffee pot on and get set up to record you…”

Sarah groaned.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said. “Sit tight, five minutes.”

You rolled onto your back and blinked the sleep from your eyes, Sarah bouncing impatiently on the bed. You lifted your head enough to look at her, curls sticking every which way, and you dropped back down onto the pillow with a groan.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, kid,” you said.

“Yeah, that’s what my dad says,” she said cheerfully and you could picture her smile as she did.

“Alright, come on out,” Joel called from the living room. Sarah rocketed off the bed and you laughed as you got up yourself, trailing behind her and trying not to yawn.

“Oh cool!” Sarah flopped down beside her stocking and started going through it as you got to the living room. Joel was sitting on the couch, his phone set up on a tripod in the corner and pointed at the tree. “These are those face mask things I said I wanted! And the headbands for soccer!”

“I do pay attention now and then, baby girl,” Joel said, rubbing his eyes.

“Don’t you mean Santa pays attention?” You asked, sitting next to him on the couch. Joel handed you a cup of coffee, made exactly how you liked it.

“I know Santa’s not real, Aunt Goldie,” Sarah rolled her eyes and gave you a look. “I’m 11, not a kid.”

Joel snorted.

“Sorry,” you said. “My mistake.”

“Don’t spoil Santa for Goldie,” Joel said before reaching down on the ground next to him. “Speaking of which…”

He handed you a fat stocking and you frowned a little as you took it.

“You made me a stocking?” You asked, tears pinching at your throat. “No one’s made me a stocking since I was in high school…”

“Then you’re real overdue,” he smiled a little and went back to watching Sarah as she unwrapped a chocolate Santa and stuffed the entire thing in her mouth. “Alright, let’s not eat all the candy in one sitting…”

“But it’s Christmas!” She said, voice muffled around the chocolate.

“Still gonna get sick,” he replied.

You started unpacking the stocking, pulling two pairs of fuzzy socks out of the top.

“Because your feet are always freezing,” he said, looking back at you. “Figured one pair for here, one for your house…”

“Thank you,” you smiled, going back into the stocking. There was some of your favorite candy, one of the face masks Sarah had, a bottle of gold nail polish.

“We can do a spa day!” She beamed.

“We can,” you laughed, looking at Joel who just shrugged, a small smile on his face.

At the bottom of the stocking was a chunky gold pen, thick plastic encasing glitter and you turned it over in your fingers, frowning for a moment at just how familiar it felt.

“Saw one like the one you had when we were kids years ago,” Joel said. “Bought it on a whim, thought you might want it.”

You wanted to say thank you but you couldn’t seem to make a sound, the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just threw your arms around his neck and he laughed a little when he caught you, his hand sliding over your side and around to your back.

You stayed close to Joel and watched as Sarah tore through her presents, the envelope with the concert tickets safely in Joel’s possession.

“Hey Sarah,” you said eventually. “Can you hand me that box under there that’s for your dad?”

Joel frowned as Sarah got the box, setting it on the coffee table in front of Joel and hovering as he went to open it.

“Didn’t need to get me anything,” he said.

“Too damn bad,” you said. “Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing crazy.”

He opened it. Inside were two shot glasses, leather wrapped with a monogrammed M burned into it.

“I thought you needed some accessories for the flask,” you smiled.

He laughed.

“We gotta break these in,” he said, looking them over. “They even look like they match…”

“May have gotten Tommy to send me pictures,” you said. “Keep going, one more thing in there.”

He shifted the tissue paper before pulling out a cassette tape, frowning at it for a moment.

“What…”

“I know your stereo is old enough that it plays tapes,” you said, palm out. “Hand it over.”

He laughed once but obeyed and you went to put the tape in, adjusting the volume so it wouldn’t be too loud. It crackled a bit at the start and then Joel’s voice - almost 20 years younger but still so familiar - filled the room.

“My name is Joel Miller,” he said. “I play guitar and sing, mostly rock, little country…”

Joel gaped at the stereo before looking to you.

“Is this that old demo tape we made when we were kids?” He asked. You laughed and nodded. “Holy… where the hell’d you find this thing?”

“I kept one,” you shrugged. “Thought it might give you a nudge toward playing again.”

The Joel on tape started playing and Sarah came and sat between the two of you on the couch, looking up at her dad.

“So that’s you?” She asked.

“Sure is,” he said. “Long time ago, I was closer to your age then than mine now.”

“What’s it for?” She asked.

“Well,” Joel looked over her head to you and smiled a little before looking back at his daughter. “I always liked playing, wanted to be a singer for a while. Goldie here talked me into making some demo tapes to give to places around here that had open mic nights so I could actually play for people. Worked, too. Had a few places I played pretty often for a bit in there thanks to that tape.”

“Why’d you stop?” She frowned. “You were good.”

Joel shrugged.

“Bigger things to do,” he kissed the top of her head. “Though speaking of music… think there might be one more thing for you under the tree.”

Sarah’s frown deepened and she went to look around, picking her way through wrapping paper and but not finding it.

“There’s nothing over here, Dad,” she said. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, right,” Joel said, giving you a wink and pulling the envelope out of the pocket of his pajama pants. “Here it is.”

She jumped over some of the boxes scattered over the floor and took the envelope from him, her eyebrows knitting together as she read the writing on the front.

“To the swiftest music fan?” She said, looking up from the envelope and at the two of you.

You just shrugged.

“Gonna have to open it, kiddo,” Joel said.

She slipped her fingers below the seal and pulled out the card, two pieces of paper falling to the ground before she had a chance to read it. She picked them up and unfolded them, reading the first one.

“It says we have a hotel room in Dallas?” She looked at Joel.

“Gotta read the other paper, baby girl,” he said. “That’s the important one. And the one from Aunt Goldie.”

She flipped to that page next and only held it for a moment before shrieking and throwing herself at you, knocking you back into the couch.

“You got Eras Tour tickets?” She pulled back, half on top of you and half on the couch. You just laughed and nodded. “Oh my GOD, thank you thank you thank you, you’re the best! OH MY GOD!”

“Well your dad is the one getting us there and making sure we have a place to stay,” you said. “So hug him, too.”

“Thank you!” She threw herself at him, too, and he laughed, catching her and giving her a squeeze. “This is the best present ever, it’s going to be the best time, I can’t wait! We’re going to see Taylor Swift! Oh my GOD, I have to tell my friends!”

She shot off to her room to get her phone and Joel laughed, looking over at you.

“OK I don’t even care that she likes you better n’me now,” he said. “She’s that happy? Worth it.”

“We’ll see how we feel after a few days wrangling her for the Taylor Swift concert,” you said, watching where she’d disappeared up the stairs. “But… yeah, definitely worth it.”

“Hey,” Joel said, voice oddly earnest. You looked over at him. “Thanks for loving my kid.”

You smiled a little.

“She’s yours,” you said. “How could I not?”

Tommy came over a few hours later, once the turkey was in the oven and the wrapping paper was cleaned up off the floor. He gave Sarah a five pound bag of Sour Patch Kids and said “don’t tell your dad” before kissing the top of her head as she scampered off to stash her hoard in her room. He greeted you with a hug with a tight squeeze on the end and you still couldn’t quite get used to just how adult he was. There was part of you that still saw him as the little kid who trailed after you and Joel, the one who sometimes begged to go to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard. Now, he was nearly as tall as his older brother, drinking a beer and talking to Joel about a woman named Maria he’d just started dating. It was an odd reminder of just how much time you’d lost with Joel, just how much had changed.

The four of you had dinner - Tommy teasing Sarah more like a loving older brother than an uncle, making you smile - and, before too long, the day was done.

Sarah insisted on listening to Taylor Swift while she got ready for bed and Joel read to her from an Artemis Fowl book, you eavesdropping on Joel doing the voices from your place in the living room while the cats curled up around you.

A keen sense of belonging settled over you then, as you held a mug of cocoa in one hand and the other rested on the back of your large, orange cat. This, you thought, was where you belonged. In this space, in this time, alongside these people.

How could you ever hope to find this anywhere else? How were you ever supposed to recover from this stubborn crush if Joel was the place you felt most like home?

“You OK?” Joel asked, hovering toward the top of the stairs, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah,” you smiled and gave Puck a scratch and let yourself have the feeling. “I’m good.”

You got up early the next morning, Joel barely awake enough to help carry your bags to the car.

“See you New Year’s Eve,” he said, his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants and his hair in total disarray. “Better have that damn book done by then.”

“Do you really think you can write an entire book in a week?” You asked, brows raised.

“I dunno,” he said. “You’re the smart one, you tell me.”

You rolled your eyes and he laughed a little.

“Alright, I’m goin’ back to bed,” he said. “Text me when you get there, have fun being a genius.”

“Hey,” you called to him as he made it halfway back up his walk. He turned to face you, frowning slightly. “Thanks. For being my friend.”

An expression you couldn’t place passed over his face before he smiled a little.

“Careful,” he said. “Talk like that enough, people might think you care about me and shit.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” you said. “See you in a few days.”

He watched you drive off and you made your way to the hill country and the cabin Stephanie had reserved for you. You’d insisted that it have extra bedrooms and a hot tub and were surprised that she hadn’t pushed back on it.

“Whatever you need to get the job done, you’ve got it,” she said after sending you links to some cabins. “I’m just here to facilitate.”

You stopped on the way for groceries, stocking up so you wouldn’t need to leave the house once you settled in. You went with most of your standbys for cooking for one and watching the careful diet you’d been on for years but then thought of Joel bringing you tamales and plying you with cookies over the last few days. Maybe he was right. Maybe you did need to live a little. You got the stuff to make the bagel sandwiches, too.

The cabin was damn near idyllic, all stone and wood with huge windows looking out at the brush leading down to the lake in the backyard. The hot tub was set on the back porch, a fire pit in the yard and rocking chairs out front. The kitchen was large and reasonably well equipped and there were enough bedrooms that Joel, Tommy and Sarah could have their own when they all joined you for New Year’s Eve. There was even a desk set up near a window that overlooked the water and you set up your laptop and charger and got out your notebook with the pen from your Christmas stocking, arranging everything just so.

“Alright,” you said to no one after you got the groceries put away and made yourself a cup of coffee before settling in at the desk to write. “Let’s do this.”

And… you tried. You really, truly did.

Day one, you got most of an outline done. Enough of one that you went to bed feeling somewhat accomplished and felt good treating yourself to a bagel sandwich in the morning. But then, when you sat down to work on the next part for day two, you weren’t sure you liked any of it anymore. You pressed on, anyway. Day three, you tried to write the first chapter and you made some decent progress, at least feeling like you were getting to know the characters a bit as you settled into the story. But, day four, you read what you’d written the day before and wanted to claw your way out of your skin. What were you doing? Why did you think you could do this at all? Had you ever made anything worthwhile on your own? Why would you suddenly be able to do it now?

The text came through when you were taking a break for lunch, desperately avoiding the gnawing feeling of failure after days of accomplishing fuck all when you really had no excuse not to. You sighed and opened your texts, fully expecting from Joel or Anna or even Stephanie.

It wasn’t.

Hey Doll

You dropped your fork in shock and it clattered to your plate as you blinked at your phone in total shock. He was texting you. Why was he texting you? He hadn’t texted you in months, not since you’d left Rhode Island. Why now? Did you want to know? Could you resist knowing?

Hi Gale

You propped your phone up against your half empty can of Diet Dr. Pepper and stared at the screen, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

It didn’t take long.

How’ve you been doing?

Your hand shook as you replied.

Alright. I like the new school. You?

He responded almost instantly.

Not bad. Was just thinking about you. Miss you.

You froze, your heart in your throat.

He missed you. How could he just say that? The collapse of your marriage had been one of the most painful things you’d ever gone through, happening in slow motion as he pulled further and further away and you desperately tried to dig your nails in to keep him close. You’d all but begged for him to miss you for years and now he was just texting it to you out of the blue. How could he just say that? How could you pretend like it wasn’t what you wanted to hear?

You went to his Facebook page and checked his relationship status, one of the upsides to being with an older man meaning that his social media presence was pretty limited. He was still listed as in a relationship with Carla, a woman he’d met in much the same way he’d met you. The thought made your stomach churn, that you’d been so easily replaced by the younger, thinner, prettier version who had been dropped on his desk, practically gift wrapped.

You went back to the texts.

How’s Carla?

There was a longer pause that time.

She’s not you.

“Jesus,” you said, setting the phone down and closing your eyes for a moment. You tried to think, forcing yourself to be practical. This wasn’t the time or the place to be having this conversation. You couldn’t have this conversation, not when you’d just been sitting her wondering if you could do the only thing you’d ever felt like you were supposed to do without his help.

I don’t want to talk about this now. I’m in the middle of working on my book. Maybe another time.

You stared at the phone, waiting for him to respond. He never did.

“Yeah, sure seems like you missed me,” you muttered, finishing your salad and cleaning up from lunch, settling back in at your desk to write for the afternoon, trying not to think about the very real possibility that your writing career had ended when your marriage did.

“I’m losing my mind over here,” you said, breaking down and calling Joel on day five. “There’s only so much I can say to a wall, you know.”

“We’re comin’ your way tomorrow,” he said. “Be praying for some peace and quiet once Sarah and Tommy are there, trust me. Still like pecan praline ice cream, yeah?”

“Blue Bell?” You asked.

“Course it’s Blue Bell,” you could hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “What kind of animal you take me for?”

“Oh, my apologies…”

“Anything else you can think of?” He asked. “I can always stop on the way, too, but it’s easier while I’m here.”

“I still think it’s silly to buy ice cream an hour away and then drive it out here,” you said.

“That’s what coolers are for,” he replied. “Stop finding shit to worry about. Just give the writing one more shot, see how far you get. Who knows, you might surprise yourself.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you remembered your texts with Gale the day before.

“Goldie,” Joel said, tone serious. “That all that’s on your mind?”

“Stop trying to read my thoughts,” you said.

“Tell me,” he said. “Or I’ll show up early and make you.”

“That a threat?”

“That’s a promise,” he said. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Gale texted yesterday,” you said, fidgeting with the handle of your coffee mug, the coffee itself going cold an hour ago.

“Gale?” Joel asked, tone sharp. “Fuckin’ Gale? The fuck did he want?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I’ll show you the texts when you get here, maybe you can translate them for me since he’s not making any damn sense.”

“That asshole better not be making any trouble,” Joel said. “I will find him and kick his ass, Goldie, just say the word…”

“I know you will,” you laughed a little. “But don’t worry about it right now. And I should let you go…”

“Yeah, go write your book,” he teased. “Change the world and shit.”

There was a knock at your front door and you frowned, staring at it. There was a window to the side of it but all you could see was a shadow.

“Hey, Joel?” You said. “Hang on one second, there’s someone at my door.”

“What?” He sounded serious now. “Were you expecting anyone?”

“No,” you said quietly, approaching it slowly and trying to see through the frosted glass. You couldn’t make out who it was. “So just stay on the line and make sure I’m not axe murdered…”

“Need me to come out there now?” He asked. “If you ain’t safe…”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, unlocking the deadbolt. “Probably just a neighbor, but…”

You opened the door and peered out through the crack, phone clutched against your head.

You still almost dropped it.

“Hey Doll.”

***

“Hi Gale.”

Joel’s heart dropped.

“Gale?” He said, pressing his phone tight against his head and trying not to yell in the middle of the line at the HEB. “Fucking Gale? He’s there?”

“I have to go,” you said quickly. “Talk later.”

You hung up before he had a chance to say goodbye. He tried calling you back but you ignored it.

Joel stood there, staring at his cart for a moment, his head swimming.

Was he freaking out because it was you and he didn’t want you alone at some romantic looking cabin with your ex-husband? Was it because he knew that you weren’t in a place to handle this right now? Was it because he knew - knew - that your ex was a goddamn predator?

He’d bitten his tongue about that fact since you’d been back, that the man you’d married had been more than twice your age and you’d only been a legal adult for all of a month when he’d met you. It didn’t matter that it was you, that Joel had gone searching for you and found you there with him all those years ago, he’d want to beat the shit out of a man like that regardless of who it was. A man like that couldn’t be trusted.

He especially couldn’t be trusted with you.

Joel checked out as fast as he could, calling Tommy as he drove.

“Hey, need you to do me a favor,” he said quickly.

“You always need me to do you a favor,” Tommy said. “One of these days I’m gonna cash in.”

“Yeah, who got you the only job besides the army you’ve kept longer than a week?” Joel asked.

Tommy sighed.

“Fine. What’s up?”

“Need you to take Sarah tonight.”

“Joel, come on!”

“M’serious,” Joel said. “Goldie’s ex just showed up at the fucking cabin…”

“Oh, not that fucking asshole from the funeral,” Tommy cut him off.

“That’s the one,” Joel said.

“Fuck that guy,” Tommy said. “He needs to stay the fuck away from her.”

“Yeah, somethin’ tells me he ain’t gonna make that choice on his own,” Joel said. “So I need you to pick up Sarah and take her for the night. And bring me my shit tomorrow. I’ll text you the address where Sarah’s at, she’s at her friend’s playing right now, needs to be picked up about five…”

“Yeah, I got it,” Tommy said. “Go save the day.”

Joel drove as fast as he dared, not familiar enough with where cops liked to hide to go too fast. He pulled up in front of the cabin you’d sent him the information for a week and a half earlier. He’d have admired it, in another circumstance. He’d always wanted a place like this, someplace quiet where there was enough space to live a little, maybe hunt. A place where Sarah could run and play and get to know nature a little.

But in that moment, he was too pissed to take it in.

He grabbed a bag out of the trunk - pretense more than anything else - and stalked up to the door before knocking on it, his fist coming down in heavy thuds on the wood.

You pulled open the door, a surprised look on your face and your ex-husband at your back.

He looked just about the same as Joel remembered him from before. Tall but not as tall as him, a refined air about him that made Joel want to deck him, a smug look on his face. His hair was gray and his face was wrinkled and Joel fucking hated him.

“Joel,” you said, staring at him. “What are you…”

Joel did the only thing he could think to do, fucking Brad standing so close to you with a hand between your shoulder blades like he fucking owned you.

“Missed you too much, baby,” he said, watching your eyes go a little wide at the word. “Couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

He reached out and cupped the hinge of your jaw, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck and he tugged you closer, his heart beating so fast he was sure that your fucking ex could hear it.

But he didn’t care.

All he cared about was the way your lips felt on his when he kissed you.

Next Chapter

A/N: I mean we can all agree, fuck Brad/Gale.

But also... his presence does get results.

THANKS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME! Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #slow burn #halcyon

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hattersarts · 10 months

Text

gomens s2 thoughts, all spoilers!

I spent 10 hours talking to my housemate about the season after we binged the whole thing in the morning but here are the highlights and the biggest takeaways from the season.

okay i did love the ending, i love that we get the conformation of love AND going into the divorce arc next season (if they're not properly together by the end of season 3 however, i am rioting) they're slow burn and a whole season of them getting to the final 10mins was tasty.

HOWEVER. it was an extremely clunky season when it comes to writing, lots of either set ups missed OR set ups repeated 4 times that they're drilled into out heads. there was also lots of dialogue that really needed to be tightened up. the lesbians were so poorly written i thought they might have needed to be cut BUT they just needed to have more bearing on the rest of the plot AND say things like real people would say things and LITERALLY SHOW ONE SINGLE REASON WHY THEY WOULD LIKE EACH OTHER WITHIN THE FIRST EPISODE.

gabe/bulz romance was the one that should have been cut, have them do more of a oh-my-god-my-boss-sucks kind of thing, lean into them complaining about having to avert a civil war after armageddon stopped and touch on the "structural problems" the angels mention later. Have gabe/bulz be super punished for working together which puts huge fear into az and crowley about what happens if you try to team up as an angel/demon pair (but an extra reason why az takes the job at the end so he and crowley can be the same)

imo it works more if the only mirror of their romance is the HUMANS which should lean into themes to season 3 of how they need to team up with humans (re:"us vs them" line at the end of season 1) to actually achieve their happy ending.

Nina and maggies best scene was their last one telling crowley he needed to talk to az but i think that was one that needed to be cut, it would have been far more satisfying to have crowely work out it out himself that he loves az and wants to tell him (still via maggie and nina but more subtle rather than them telling him to his face AND via spending more time with az in the season)

flashbacks were all pretty good, loved the jobe one and that final "lonely" scene. the nazi one needed some trimming the most (why did all three come back to earth, it made scenes too crowed, have them fight to be a zombie)

shax was disappointing, she was kind of just incompetent the whole way through which didnt make the stakes very exciting, (that whole scene of her talking to the legion was unfunny and pointless) i wanted crowley to mentor her more like when he gave her advice in the first few meetings we saw (kind of in a very non-demonic way, not expecting anything in return) and her to then meet him on equal footing in the finale. would have been a little accidental taste for Crowley to have his good deeds come back to haunt him while showing he's different to demons.

speaking of the finale fight, that halo had NO set up, it was sick as hell but ??? the fuck did that come from. the fight should have been won by az and crowley performing another HUGE miracle together, discorporating the demons (which then would alert heaven and hell something was up in the bookshop and the final scene can happen)

az taking the job from metatron was very good, its consistent with his character where he still hasn't let go of his faith in good/god, he's only been upset by the angels running heaven and still has faith in the system while crowley has realised none of it works and it's only them together that matters. it was nice to show he still hasn't truly accepted crowley for who he is now (tho imo he knows he loves him, he just hasn't quite unrepressed himself) and him not turning down the job after crowley confesses to him shows he still thinks he can fix it. Crowley on the other hand thinks he's now lost him, az has broken he the trust he had in him, he's going to be in big depression mode

few thoughts of good directions for S3:

finally delivering on what crowley said at the end of S1 I think is the most satisfying. the final showdown should be humans Vs heaven/hell with Crowley and az on the human side, helping them win the conflict. there would be suggestions that this is actually god's ineffable plan, this is a conflict she wants to happen and the things that Crowley and az went through are what make them perfect ambassadors to help the humans.

the set up for az in S3 to finally work out he and Crowley can't work out within the unfair rules of the system and for him to abandon heaven (tho not I think, becoming a demon) is good. a sucky ending imo for season 3 is if az somehow "fixes" heaven and via bureaucracy and not via blowing it all up.

growth moments for Crowley in S3 might be having more contact with humans since he's already abandoned hell and it would put az & crowley on similar footing (as az very much loves humans already) when they decided to side with humans for a humans Vs heaven/hell conflict.

anyway, gay people

#this is all the surface stuff really #im having fun re-plotting the episodes for thr same end but tweaked to be more satisfying

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staytheword · 1 year

Text

evermore

evermore — one shot [ general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors, please do not interact!!

• hyunjin x female reader; lee know, jeongin and seungmin are featured.

• non idol au, coffee shop au (sort of), hints of soulmate au. slow burn (as much as can be in a one shot lol), mutual pining, angst, smut. — unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), sex in an (empty) public place, creampie.

• word count: 12.9k

Evermore. A café that is also a bookstore. A place where you can sit down with a book, sip delicious coffee, slip away from reality. Evermore is your favorite place. For the coffee, for the books, for Hyunjin.

• author’s note: I am very excited and nervous to share this one-shot with you. I hope I can do justice to our dear Hyunjin and that you enjoy reading it. If you can grab a warm drink and a blanket to set the mood ♡

Dedicated to @straywrds ♡ thank you for being in my life.

It was summer and you came every Tuesday.

It was the season of iced americanos and lemonade, the sunshine reflecting on the windows and filling the place with light. People came in to grab a cold drink, maybe a cookie, and strolled back outside. They borrowed books to read under the sun or bought a few for their vacation. It was a hot and humid summer, of lazy evenings that stretched into unforgettable nights. Hyunjin liked to keep the place open later in the summer, as late as the ice cream place next door. Sometimes, after having indulged in a dessert, people liked to grab a coffee to get the taste of sugar off their tongue.

On Tuesdays he would glance at the door just before two, waiting for you. You never failed to show up. You got your iced coffee, which you took with just a few drops of vanilla soy milk, and sat down at your favorite table, the one in the corner, close to the History section. You would spend the next two hours or so going through a book, slowly sipping your beverage, and you would determine if you wanted to buy it or not. Sometimes you did, sometimes you didn’t. Hyunjin didn’t mind. It was the whole concept of the place.

People could read as much as they wanted as long as they bought a drink or a snack. The books were there to be read. They could be bought, but not borrowed. There were plenty of places to sit, tables and couches and armchairs. On the floor were laid large carpets furnished with cushions. There was always coffee and food available.

Hyunjin was proud of his book café.

He was even more proud to see you find solace in it.

At least that’s what he assumed - why would you come every week, if it wasn’t the case? He saw how your shoulders relaxed as you read, how sometimes you briefly closed your eyes in delight after your first sip of coffee. His favorite thing, after seeing you smile, was to see your brow furrow as you read something that captivated you. Your head would fall forward, your hair brushing your cheeks, and you would completely forget the world around you.

You didn’t notice him looking at you.

He wasn’t stalking you. You were just one of his favorite customers. Polite, kind. Pretty. You saw him as more than just the guy with the apron selling him books and coffee. You smiled at him, asked how he was that week. Maybe you did that with everyone, but he still liked it. He would find himself giving you the cookie from the freshest batch, or brewing a new pitcher of his best coffee just before came in. He would forget to charge you extra for the vanilla soy milk.

He was a whole cliché mess but he did not care. You brought softness to his days. Solace to the routine. He made this place for people like you. But it was even more than that. In fact, sometimes, he became convinced he created it specifically for you. Perhaps that was going too far, but Hyunjin had never been a reasonable man. He was a romantic through and through, and he did not care about the logic of things. He liked the poetry of you, composed one verse at a time each summer Tuesday.

One week the air conditioning broke. It got hot real fast, and Hyunjin already had a layer of sweat on his skin when you came in at two o’clock. You were wearing denim shorts and a tank top. You chuckled amusingly, and said to him, quite hot today, isn’t it? He suggested coming another time because it would be uncomfortable but you didn’t care. You paid for your beverage and sat at your usual spot. You gathered your hair together and secured it with a clip - a few strands of hair stuck to the back of your neck and Hyunjin stared at them. He wiped the sweat off his brow, and tried to focus on work.

About half an hour later you came back to the counter and asked for an empty glass full of ice cubes. Don’t worry, you told him. I won’t get the books wet. Hyunjin trusted you - he gave you the ice cubes with a smile, licking the sweat off his lips. At first he thought you just wanted to let them melt in your mouth, but you surprised him.

He watched as you took the ice cubes in your hands, placed them against your skin and let them melt there. Sometimes you put them on your neck, sometimes on your cheek. He was never as distracted as that afternoon, admiring the ice turn into water on your skin, sliding down your arm or your collarbone. He imagined following the trail with his finger. Or with his tongue, maybe.

That sent a shiver up his spine.

He had to relieve his throbbing cock in the bathroom of the café, eyes shut against the image of you panting beside him, his skin sticky and his thoughts tangled together.

He wasn’t obsessed with you. You were just so soothing. Something about you made him want to stare for hours, a lazy smile upon his lips, appeased.

He barely knew anything about you, which was fine. It’s not even that he wanted to know everything. Of course he liked when you told him things - he reveled in every new information you revealed, but he savored them like candy. Piece by piece, letting them melt on his tongue to a syrup, at a slow and steady rhythm. He was not interested in rushing things. From time to time you told him about you, and from time to time he told you about him.

You were a harpist. You played with an orchestra and gave lessons at the nearby music school. On Tuesdays your last lesson ended at 1:45, which gave you the rest of the afternoon to relax. The café was your favorite place to do that.

Hyunjin told you he opened the café a few years ago with the help of a friend. He had never much ambition except having his own place to take care of. For a long time he hesitated between a café and a bookstore, and eventually settled on a place that served as both. His only regret was to not make it a cat café - but it was never too late. Maybe in a few years, he told you once with a shy laugh.

By all accounts, you were single. You did not have a ring around your finger, and you never mentioned a boyfriend. But maybe you were just private about it. Maybe you were casually dating. It wasn’t any of his business.

Hyunjin was not single. He had been in his relationship for a year and thought he was in love. But you changed everything.

That was how a heart was supposed to beat, he realized.

That was the ecstatic rhythm of a healthy and blissful heart.

He told himself he would break up with his girlfriend and ask you out before the end of the summer. Each week he told himself, next Tuesday. I’ll do it next Tuesday. But he never did, and time slipped through his fingers like sand.

Summer faded away and you stopped coming.

You look up at the sign and smile to yourself. Evermore. So accurately named. You haven’t been in there in forever, it seems, and to a certain extent it has. Months. Back then it was summer and you spent a few hours there every week. Never missed a Tuesday. The doors used to be left wide open and you could smell coffee from meters away.

Now the snow creaks under the soles of your boots and the doors are shut. It is cold today and you bury your nose in your scarf.

It is not Tuesday, but you have nothing planned and you are dying for a warm cup of coffee and a good book. You haven’t done that in ages. You miss it. Surely, he won’t remember you. Surely, it’s been long enough for him to forget.

You pull the handle of the door and enter the café. Immediately you smell the familiar smells, coffee and sugar and cinnamon, mellow music playing on the speakers. You wipe your boots on the carpet and head to the counter, gazing around, smiling to yourself. It’s as you remember, the floorboards creaking under your feet, the seemingly endless rows of books, the quiet noise of conversation.

Him.

You see him, behind the counter, busy cleaning a machine. He hasn’t noticed you. He still looks the same, his thin chocolate hair grazing his ears, his apron tied around his waist. It’s the first time you see him in a sweater. It looks soft, a creamy beige color, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His wide hands are quick and agile. You swallow, trying to steady your erratic heartbeat.

He probably doesn’t remember you.

You have only been strangers, after all.

The place is quiet and comforting. During summer days it was the breeze upon your cheek, and now it’s like stepping inside a warm, familiar room. It feels like you could find a fireplace in the corner, your mother’s gingerbread cookies, your favorite slippers. How can it feel so much like home if you haven’t been here in months?

You loosen your scarf and unbutton your coat, stepping closer to the counter.

“Hi,” you say, trying not to sound too nervous.

He turns around, meeting your eyes. They immediately sweep you off your feet, and you’re glad the cold has already reddened your cheeks, because Hyunjin looks even more celestial than before. Eyes like the deepest night sky, lips the most delicate shade of pink. They looked a little damaged, chapped, probably because of the cold, but they are still inviting. His hair is longer, tickling the collar of his sweater, but shorter strands graze his eyebrows. He looks at you like you can’t really be here - but before you can try to understand what it means, he swallows and smiles timidly at you.

“It’s you,” he breathes.

And you thought he wouldn’t recognize you. So much for that. Your words completely evade you, and you feel a little silly, standing there.

“I - I haven’t seen you in so long,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his head, looking nervous.

“I was away,” you tell him simply. “I came back just a couple of days ago.”

“Oh,” he nods, “I see. I’m just glad to see you’re okay.”

You smile, your nervousness fading slightly. “Thanks. I’m happy to be back. I missed this place a lot.”

Hyunjin blushes, evading your gaze for a moment, and his reaction surprises you so much you have to do the same. You look down at your boots, at the floor, at the display of pastries to your right.

“Can I get you anything?”

His voice brings you back to him. You give him a nod, glancing at the menu above his head. It’s a little different than it was this summer, but it’s not much of a surprise. There are so many things you want to try. You hesitate between a few drinks, chewing on your lower lip, trying to make a choice.

“I’ll have… Oh, God, I can’t choose,” you chuckle.

Hyunjin’s eyes squeeze into crescents as he smiles amusingly. “I could make you an iced coffee, but it might be a little cold for that.”

“Definitely,” you answer, smiling widely. “I’ll try the… macchiato?”

“Coming right up.”

You lean against the counter as Hyunjin gets to work, preparing your drink. You take the opportunity to look around some more, immersing yourself in your environment. It’s not too busy for a Thursday night, probably because of the cold. You see students working on their computers, a young man browsing books, an older woman reading one, comfortably seated on an armchair with a blanket on her legs.

On the speakers, a gentle piano melody starts to play. You close your eyes, inhaling the smells around you. You feel calm.

When Hyunjin comes back with your drink, you reach for your wallet but he quickly holds up a palm.

“Please. It’s on me. To welcome you back.”

You stammer. “But -”

“It’s my pleasure.”

He seems so sincerely happy to offer it to you that you can only smile, giving him a grateful nod. You’re not sure what to say. You glance down at the ceramic mug, filled to the brim with caramel-colored foam, an intricate floral pattern drawn in it. It smells heavenly, and you already know it will be delicious.

“Thank you.”

“Enjoy.”

You wish you could stay there with him. Walk around the counter and hang there, catching up with him. You wonder what he’s been up to. How business has been. Why he looks so tired. You want to tell him how seeing him again makes you feel. Like you’ve been away from where you belong. Like you’ve never even left.

But you can’t. You don’t know him, not really. A name, a few silly details. Just bits and pieces, not even enough to be able to call him a friend. So you give him another smile, carefully take the mug in your hands, and search for a table.

Of course, you don’t really hesitate. You sit at the same table as you did this summer. It offers a perfect view of the busy street ahead, so you can watch people walk by and try to figure out where they come from, where they are going. It also shields you just a little from view, because not a lot of people are interested in the Poetry section. The spot also allows you easy glances at the main counter, so you can watch Hyunjin work.

So what if you have a little crush on your favorite barista? You don’t see the harm in it. Hyunjin is a handsome, charming guy. He’s your age. He has a successful business. He is kind and soft-spoken. He likes book, has a sweet tooth. He is everything you could ever wish for and convinced you can never have. After all, why would Hyunjin see you?

But he remembers you. That much you are surprised of. You did come here once a week for a few months, and you had a few conversations, but it was nothing deep, just small talk. But back then he remembered your order and called you by your name. You wonder if he still remembers it now, like you could never forget his.

Once you remove your coat and scarf, you take a sip of the macchiato and it makes your taste buds dance. It’s the perfect temperature, and just the right amount of spices. Is that a hint of vanilla you taste, too? It’s your favorite flavor.

You smile to yourself, licking your lips so as to not lose even a drop, and lean back into the chair. Outside the window blows through the freshly fallen snow, twirling it into the air like small tornadoes.

You could get yourself a book but for now, you just want to look outside and enjoy the feeling of being here. You were anxious it would be a little too different during the winter, but it isn’t. The place has a soul that leaves a permanent imprint, and it whispers Hyunjin’s name.

Perhaps it isn’t even him. Perhaps it’s this place. You might have ended up projecting the solace it brought you on its owner, as if he is responsible for it. Because what do you know about Hyunjin, apart from a couple of disarrayed fragments? You have no idea who he really is. Perhaps you have been too eager to love. You’ve always so desperately wanted to believe in it.

You do not love Hyunjin. You love this place and how it makes you feel. And just as you’re about to convince yourself of that, your eyes slide across the room and fall on him. He’s leaning on the counter, facing your way, gnawing on a nail. The sleeves of his sweater are a little too long, and cover most of his hands. He’s looking at you - and when he realizes you’re looking back, smiles nervously and waves.

You do the same.

It’s not the first time this has happened. Back during the summer, you’ve surprised his gaze in a similar fashion. But you often just thought he was looking in your general direction - you were sitting next to a large window that opened on a busy street. You never thought much of it. But sometimes it really did feel like he was looking at you.

Like that hot summer day, when the air conditioning wasn’t working. You had been so desperately hot that day but you didn’t want to leave. Hyunjin had rolled the sleeves of his t-shirt around his shoulders and his arms looked like sculpted marble. You asked for ice cubes, a trick that you had seen your mother do a thousand times, not thinking much of it. But you had caught Hyunjin staring and thought he found you weird, so you stopped, worried you were making a fool of yourself. Luckily, if he did, he didn’t hold it against you.

You see him now and your heart trembles.

You missed him.

Once you finish your drink and get lost in your thoughts some more, you start to feel tired. You don’t want to spend the rest of your night yawning, and you have to get up early, so you reluctantly slip your coat back on and bring your empty mug to the counter. Hyunjin thanks you with a smile.

“How was it?” he asks, wide eyes fixed on you.

“Really good,” you nod. “Loved the hint of vanilla.”

He nods, looking proud.

“Goodnight,” you tell him, wrapping your scarf around your neck.

As you turn, Hyunjin’s voice stops you.

“Y/N,” he calls, softly, his voice almost quivering.

You do your best to keep a steady smile on your lips, but inside of you, your heart feels like it’s just been squeezed tightly. Your name.

He remembers your name.

“Will I see you on Tuesdays again?” he asks softly.

You swallow, glancing nervously at your hands.

“I don’t think so,” you admit. “I have lessons until late that day, starting next week.”

Is that disappointment you see on his face? You’re not sure. You give him a timid smile, however, accompanied with a shrug.

“I do have my Wednesdays off, though. So they might become my new Tuesday.”

He meets your eyes, and you smile perhaps a little too widely. You can’t help it - his eyes are shimmering, his cheeks a soft pink.

“I’ll see you next Wednesday, then.”

You allow yourself to drift off in his eyes, just for a second. “See you then.”

It is winter and you come every Wednesday.

Ever since that night you order the same drink. A strong macchiato with steamed vanilla soy milk. The one he created specifically for you.

He would probably lie if you asked him, but he did.

You fall in love with his cranberry scones so Hyunjin makes sure they are fresh out of the oven when you pass the door. He discovers your collection of sweaters - his favorite is the color of apricots, the one you pair with golden earrings. He learns that an old friend knitted your scarf back when you were in high school and you wear it every winter since. That your boots are new because the soles of the previous ones were ruined from an evening of intense chewing by your mother’s dog.

That the reason you disappeared was nothing tragic. You got a provisional contract to play for an orchestra across the country, replacing someone on maternity leave. It was just a few weeks but you stayed for longer, enjoying the time away.

You needed to clear your mind and see the world, you tell him one Wednesday night. He is sorting books in the aisles when you appear, in search of a new one to read. You start to chat, and he loves the way you lean against the shelves, your arms behind your back, your colored lips telling stories about what you saw. You had a good time there but you missed home, you say.

Hyunjin could listen to you for hours.

Your nails are painted the color of cream and your perfume has hints of vanilla. He thought it was bad this summer but this is worse. He can’t stop thinking about you. He wonders what your kitchen looks like, what kind of art you have on your walls. How your hair looks sprayed upon your pillow, if your cheeks are puffed up in the morning. He wants to make you your favorite espresso so it’s the first thing you smell when you wake up, and then perhaps make you come with his tongue.

He keeps hearing your voice pronouncing his name. He keeps seeing you wrap your scarf around your slender neck. He keeps smelling vanilla everywhere he goes.

He should probably do something. Ask you out, or at least find a way to discover if you are single. He is, after all. Broke up with his girlfriend after you didn’t come back for a couple of weeks. He couldn’t stand to see her anymore. He didn’t have you, he didn’t want anyone.

A part of him expects you to show up with someone one day, holding their hand, smiling lovingly at them while waiting for your drinks. He should ask. That’s what anyone would do, after all. He should express his feelings, or find a way to exorcize them out of his body.

But Hyunjin likes it the way it is. He likes the romance, he thrills on the longing. He likes that time slows down. That he gets a glimpse of you every Wednesday, the colors of winter passing upon your cheeks, and that you remain a mystery. At the same time he feels like he deeply knows you, beyond usual bonds, that you connect on an intangible level. Both a stranger and a soulmate. He’s probably delusional - but he’d rather be a romantic than a realist.

Today is Saturday and Hyunjin can’t stop thinking about the black turtleneck you wore a few days ago. You had your hair in a ponytail, the tight collar hugging your neck so well. You bought a book saying it was a gift for someone, but you didn’t say who. For family, perhaps? You didn’t say. He didn’t ask.

The door of the Evermore opens and lets in a gust of wind. He looks up, just curious to see what kind of client is coming in, and his heart stops. It’s you.

On a Saturday.

And you are not alone.

He knew the day would come. He knew it would happen. The day you’d come through the door with someone. Yet he wasn’t prepared for the blow. It’s like someone’s just punched him in the stomach, knocked the air out.

You look pretty. You’re wearing a little more makeup than usual and your long wool coat hangs open. It’s warm outside today because of the bright sun, so that might be why. You’re smiling broadly, in the middle of laughing, looking back at your friend. He’s telling you something, a mischievous smirk curving his lips, closing the door behind him. He has dark hair and beautiful doe eyes.

You chuckle to what he says, heading towards the counter, and Hyunjin straightens his back. It’s okay, he tells himself. Of course you have a life outside this place. Of course you have a life outside of him. You are not a fantasy. You are a person.

“Hey, Hyunjin,” you say, walking up to him.

Your eyes are full of light and Hyunjin’s breath catches in his throat. “Hey. Fancy seeing you here on a Saturday.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We’re going ice skating in the park and so, in dire need of caffeine. I told Minho he had to taste that macchiato of yours.”

Minho. The guy behind you gives Hyunjin a kind smile. He nods back, unable to really understand how he’s feeling right now. All he wants to do is ask. Who is he? Your brother? Your friend? Your date? Your boyfriend?

What makes you think I want him to taste the drink I made for you?

“She kept insisting it was the most delicious hot drink she ever had, so…” Minho says with a chuckle.

He looks at you with some kind of affection but Hyunjin is unable to identify which kind. He keeps smiling, he keeps breathing. In a way it’s even more fascinating to see you interact with someone you know. What does this guy know about you, Hyunjin wonders? What parts of yourself do you share with him?

“Two macchiatos, then,” Hyunjin nods. “I’ll get that ready for you.”

“Thank you,” you say, searching your bag.

Minho shakes his head, already handing Hyunjin his card. “Please. It’s my treat.”

“Oh, thank you.”

He looks down at you and smiles, and your cheeks get pink. Whoever he is, you’re not used to his presence. Hyunjin watches you interact with him as he prepares the drinks. From the way Minho interacts with you, Hyunjin can safely conclude he’s flirting. It doesn’t look like you know each other well, though, from the information you seem to give him. If this isn’t your first date, it’s either the second or the third.

Hyunjin will give him that - Minho listens to you. He seems interested, both in what you look like and what you have to say. Hyunjin might have expected jealousy to blossom in his heart, but he can barely feel its claws. He’s curious. He’s happy for you. You deserve to be taken care of. He doesn’t want to hate the guy, especially not if you like him, if he makes you smile.

Of course he wishes it was him. He would ice skate with you for hours, holding your hand. He would kiss your cold cheeks and make you hot chocolate afterwards. But he’s not in your life like that.

Still, he doesn’t put vanilla soy milk in the guy’s macchiato. That’s just for you.

“Here you go,” Hyunjin tells you, handing you the drinks when he is done. “Have a good time.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“I’ll be here.” You smile at him one last time, and Minho does the same, politely. Once you’re back outside, Hyunjin watches you walk away until you disappear around a corner. Out of sight. Out of reach.

Minho walked you home that night. After you went ice skating you ate at a delicious Italian restaurant. You had a glass of wine and he paid for the meal. You offered him to come up for a nightcap, and after you talked for a while on your couch, he kissed you. His lips were soft, his hand gentle as he cupped your cheek. He was an excellent kisser, and a part of you really wanted to take him to bed.

You’re not sure why you hesitated - but Minho sensed it and did not even ask. He just kissed you again and whispered goodnight. The sudden dread of being alone caught you, and you suggested he stayed, but he smiled at you and shook his head. I should get home. You didn’t insist.

Once you laid on bed and pushed your fingers inside you, relieving your aching folds, it was not him you thought about. It was a boy with tranquil eyes and inviting lips. A boy whose fingers you pictured on your skin, whose smile you imagined against your wetness. You wondered what he would sound like. Would he just breathe in your neck, or maybe whisper sinful words? What would his voice sound like, roughened up, muffled against your lips? You come to the thought of his arms around you, lean muscles holding you close.

It barely feels enough. You feel on edge up all the way to Wednesday. That morning, as you do on Wednesdays, you wake up with a smile on your face.

A thick layer of heavy, crunchy snow has fallen during the night. It’s perfect for making snowmen, sliding, and crafting snow forts, and so all afternoon you spy people gearing up for skiing and other winter activities. It’s not too cold either, and there is barely any wind - the ideal weather for long walks to admire the snow lounging on tree branches. Your own eyes have wandered on them all day, and you barely got anything done.

The Café is extremely busy all afternoon, people coming in and out for hot chocolates and coffees to go. Hyunjin and his co-worker, a journalism student called Jeongin, are overwhelmed, barely able to stop for a few breaks. You watch them warily, wishing you could lend a hand, but you are sure Hyunjin will say no.

Now, it’s nearly five and things have slowed down. People are busy preparing and eating dinner, but they’ll come back - the nearby restaurants are packed and you just know all of them will want a delicious coffee to finish their meal. You should get going. You should get home, get your things in order. Keep living your life. Call your mother, fold the laundry, and plan another date with Minho. But your heart wants none of those things. You just feel like lingering here a little longer.

You stand up, walking lazily around the book tables near the counter, pretending like you’re reading the back cover of a mystery book.

Hyunjin and Jeongin are talking in hushed tones, but from this distance you can make out what they are saying.

“I’m sorry, Hyun,” Jeongin says. “I wish I could stay, but I have a midterm tomorrow, and...”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “School is more important. Go. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? It’ll be busy tonight.”

“I’ll manage. Go study.”

Jeongin thanks Hyunjin profusely, removing his apron and grabbing his coat. In a matter of seconds he leaves the café, and Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh. His long fingers slide through his tousled hair, his eyes a little puffy from exhaustion. Today he wears a white button-up, the collar a little crooked. Underneath it you spy a delicate silver chain.

When he meets your gaze you smile kindly at him, putting down the book.

“Busy day,” you say, hoping he notices the concern in your eyes.

He chuckles, clacking his tongue against his palate. “You said it. Crazy.”

“Do you have someone else coming in?” you can’t help but ask.

Hyunjin gives you a curious look and you shrug, blushing a little bit.

“Couldn’t help but overhear.”

“Ah,” he smiles briefly. “Yeah, no. It’ll be just me tonight.”

He tries to sound optimistic, you can hear it in his voice - but there’s that slight tone of defeat, or maybe just apprehension. You hesitate, biting your lower lip. You have nothing to lose by suggesting it to him. It’s not like you have anything planned. And this place has done so much for you - he has done so much. It’s the least you can do. So you take a few steps towards him, placing your hands on the counter.

“Hyunjin,” you say softly, tasting his name on your lips.

You don’t think you’ve ever said it much - but it feels nice. Better than nice, really. You like it. Hyunjin. Like a melody you were born to sing. He looks up at you with wide eyes, his ears a little red.

“Let me help you, please?” you say.

He opens his mouth with a frown and you hold a hand up.

“I don’t have anything else to do,” you quickly add, “and you don’t have to pay me. I’m no good at making coffee, but I can work the register. Just show me the ropes and I can do it.”

“Y/N, I can’t accept, this is -”

“You can only say no if you don’t trust me with it,” you interrupt him again with the kindest smile you can muster. “Which would be fine. But that’s the only reason I’ll accept.”

He closes his mouth and gives you a long look. You raise your eyebrows. A few clients walk into the café, chatting loudly about their plans for skiing later. In no time the place will be packed again, you are sure of it. So is Hyunjin, who knows his business better than anyone. He sighs, closing his eyes briefly, and smiles at you.

“All right,” he says. “But it’s just because I really need help. And the second you get tired I want you to stop, yeah?”

“Promise.”

“Come around the counter, then,” he grins.

Your heartbeat accelerates, and you tell yourself it’s because of the situation, not because of him or the way he smiles at you with constellations in his eyes. You get your things from your table, securing them in the back, and Hyunjin hands you an apron. He shows you how the register works as the recent clients make their order. It’s odd to stand so close to him, his body warmth mingling with yours. You can smell hints of his shampoo and his hand grazes against yours as he walks you through the steps. The register system is simple so you get a hold of it quickly, which is a good thing, because Hyunjin has to make the drinks, and there are more people coming in.

You don’t have much time to think in the next hours, serving clients and helping Hyunjin with what you can. You glance at him from time to time, watching his body move with ease. He knows exactly where to stand, how many steps to take. It’s like a dance, a waltz of foamed milk and carefully dusted spices. Soon the almond scones and chocolate cookies get sold out, the dishes pile up in the sink, and the rush slows down. The café closes, and you feel both exhausted and exhilarated. Your legs are wobbly and your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you don’t mind. As Hyunjin closes the register, you get behind the sink to do the dishes, making sure the ceramic mugs and metallic cutlery are thoroughly clean.

You’re so focused on your task you don’t hear the last client leaving. Hyunjin comes to stand next to you, resting against the counter with a smile.

“All locked up. We did it.”

You smile broadly at him, feeling a rush of pride. He looks at you attentively in return, a smirk curving his lips. The last few hours have gotten you used to being so close to him, but he still makes your heart jolt.

“Here,” he says, handing you a macaron - espresso flavored, your favorite.

You chuckle, showing him your gloved hands, covered in water and foam from the dishes.

“Just put it there, I’ll…”

“Don’t move.”

You freeze as he takes a step closer. He guides the macaron to your lips, looking at them attentively, and you slowly part them. You bite into the macaron, your eyes planted in Hyunjin’s, in awe of the shape and depth of them. He’s beautiful, is all you can think.

Hyunjin gently pushes the macaron in your mouth, and the tip of his finger brushes your lips. You have to make a conscious effort not to sigh at the touch, and instead focus on the delicious flavors on your tongue. You smile, fully aware, however, that your cheeks must be a bright red.

Almost as red as the ears poking out from between his hair.

“It’s delicious,” you say once you finish the macaron.

Hyunjin smiles, although he’s no longer looking you in the eye. He’s staring at your lips. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“You have a good memory.”

“I guess it’s a good quality to have for what I do,” he nods.

Hyunjin grabs a tea towel to dry the dishes and you continue to talk, the tension slowly dissipating. You focus on the conversation, exchanging thoughts about careers and winter, meals and music. Hyunjin makes you laugh, makes you forget the exhaustion, makes you remember what it’s like to be heard. When you finish the dishes, Hyunjin disappears in the back. You remove your apron, fold it and put it on the counter - and you walk towards the nearest window, staring out at the winter night.

It’s started snowing again. The snowflakes are big, powdery, falling on the ground as if in slow motion. There’s a full moon in the sky. You stare at the tranquil scene, your heart both serene and febrile. You don’t want to go home.

You got a text from Minho earlier. He asked if you were free that weekend. You get your phone out of your pocket, telling yourself you need to answer him. You like him. He’s a nice guy, attentive and charming. The two dates you had were fun, casual. He didn’t pressure you. You met him through friends, and he’s been nothing but kind. But something is missing. A heartbeat. A flame. A truth, maybe. You’re not sure.

You stare down at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen.

“Want a drink?”

You spin to see Hyunjin standing a few steps behind you, holding a bottle of red wine. He’s smiling, his head slightly tilted to the right. He removed his apron, and it’s the first time you see him without it. His white button-up is only half tucked into his jeans, which hang around a slim waist, secured by a simple leather belt.

“You have wine here?” you say with an amused smile.

He chuckles, looking down at the bottle to read the label.

“My mother gave it to me when I celebrated the five-year opening of the café. I never opened it. Thought this would be a good time. We deserve it after the evening we just had.” He considers you, his smile charming. “No pressure, though.”

You shake your head. “I’d love to.”

You get comfortable in a cozy corner of the book café, away from the windows, sitting down on a lush carpet, leaning on fluffy cushions and pillows. You both remove your shoes and when you tell Hyunjin you’re a little cold, he hands you a blanket that you wrap around your shoulders.

Hyunjin opens the bottle and fills two ceramic mugs, handing you one. You toast to your successful evening, keeping your eyes on each other as you drink. The wine is thick and tastes like cherry and flowers.

“Thank you for helping me,” he says. “It means a lot.”

“Of course. It was fun. Reminded me of my college days.”

Hyunjin pulls his knees to him, leans his head against the wall, studying you. He looks tired, but calm.

“How’s that?”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile too widely. “I was a barista for a while to pay my tuition fees.”

Hyunjin gasps. “Really?”

“I was…” You chuckle, looking down at your wine. “I was very bad at it.”

Hyunjin’s laugh echoes through the room. It’s so loud, so undisciplined - thoroughly enchanting. You wish it filled your mug instead of the wine. You laugh with him, hiding your face in your hands.

“I didn’t want to tell you that earlier so you didn’t panic, but… it’s probably a really good thing I didn’t touch the coffee.”

You take a sip of wine, still giggling as Hyunjin laughs again.

“And I trusted you,” he says dramatically, shaking his head at you.

“Why do you think I come here all the time?” you retort. “I cannot make my own coffee, Hyunjin, that’s why.”

His smile occupies half of his face, his shirt a little too big for him. You feel a strange longing. How can you, for someone you barely know? But you do.

He points a finger at you. “Making coffee is a skill. It’s something you learn. I’ll teach you.”

“What if I’m a lost cause?”

“That’s all right,” he nods solemnly. “We all need to be bad at something.”

You laugh, and before you know it your mugs are empty. As the conversation flows, you get tipsy on the wine, emptying the bottle to the last drop. You and Hyunjin talk about everything and nothing. He shows you the trailer for a movie he’s excited to see, and you make him listen to a song. After you forget to press pause and your phone just keeps playing music in the background.

You talk about your lives, your exes, your dreams. But it’s strange, it’s like the outside world doesn’t truly belong here. The Evermore is its own world and you feel more at home in it than you ever did anywhere else. You had a little too much wine, so when you try to explain the feeling to Hyunjin, you fail miserably.

“It’s true, Hyunjin,” you tell him with pleading eyes. “This place… it has something special.”

He watches you, almost - tenderly?

“It’s only because of people like you,” he says softly. “You make it live.”

“But it’s not just that,” you whisper, ignoring the sudden acceleration of your heartbeat. “It’s… fuck, I can’t find the words.”

You sigh exasperatedly, and then hold up a finger. A smile creeps upon your lips.

“Hold on. I have an idea.”

You carefully set your mug down, standing up on shaky legs. The world tilts slightly, but you keep your balance and extend your hand towards Hyunjin. He looks at you for a few seconds but eventually slides his palm in yours. You help him up, and you keep your hands interlocked as you lead him towards the bookshelves.

You know exactly what you are looking for. You go towards the end of the Fiction section, squeezed between two aisles and the wall, and let go of Hyunjin. He stays close to you as you slide your fingers on the book’s bindings, searching for a title. Despite your state, you find it quickly and pull the book off the shelf.

“Here,” you breathe, opening the book to search for the words you are looking for.

You are focused and you don’t notice Hyunjin’s eyes fixed upon you. You flip through the pages, and after a minute, you put your index above a few lines of text.

“This. This is what it is.”

You lift your eyes and meet his. He is studying you closely, his eyes a profound shade of brown, his mouth parted. You almost entirely forget about the book. Hyunjin’s lips are stained cranberry red by the wine.

He draws a sharp breath.

“Read it to me.”

His voice is hoarse. You lick your lips, taste the wine. You wish they tasted like something else. You swallow, advert your eyes, and start to read. The words drip from your mouth, and you’re not sure you’re reading them correctly because it’s like you can’t hear your own voice. Your heartbeat is too loud, pounding in your chest and resonating against your temples.

When you’re done, you look up at Hyunjin again, who has not moved. After a second of silence, he shakes his head. You open your mouth, convinced he’s going to say you’re not making any sense.

Hyunjin stops you with a kiss.

His lips sweep yours, plucking them like a fruit. You gasp in surprise but Hyunjin only deepens the kiss, pressing his plump lips against yours, eager, ravenous. It’s like the world has stopped spinning, or perhaps it is only spinning faster, so fast you can’t see it. The book slips from between your fingers and falls on the ground with a faint thump, but you barely notice it. Your hands grab Hyunjin’s shirt, pulling him towards your body, kissing him back feverishly.

His mouth embraces yours, his kisses ardent as he pushes you against the bookshelf, one of his hands on the small of your back, his fingers slightly digging into your skin. His other hand is in your hair, tousling your hair, sending blissful shivers throughout your body. He gasps for air, drinking you in, and you sigh from his absence. When his lips take yours once more, you graze them with your teeth, eliciting a muffled groan from him. He bucks his hips against you, like there aren’t any layers of clothes separating your skin, like he’s already deep inside of you, filling you to the brim.

It’s alluring, it’s sinful. You’re dizzy and entranced, and you just want to rip his clothes off, witness his body, and let him ravish you.

You shouldn’t. This is rushed, this is irresponsible. You should think things through, you should exert self-control.

But you don’t.

You bite his lip harder, and he stammers a moan inside your mouth. His fingers grip your waist harder, pushing hard in your skin. You roll your hips against him, panting against his mouth, feeling his hardening cock inside his jeans.

“Hyunjin…” you whisper.

“Fuck, this can’t be real,” he breathes, grabbing your face with both of his hands, his fingers desperately holding on to you.

His tongue slithers around yours, febrile. The sensation of his saliva blending with yours sends shockwaves all the way down to between your legs, and you have to squeeze your thighs together. You can feel it, you’re both too drunk to be able to make it last, to do it like you’d like to, to be reasonable about it. You can’t care about that right now.

With nervous fingers, and between sloppy kisses, you unbutton each other’s jeans. He lowers yours, taking a long look at your panties, as you free his cock, stroking it in your palm. He throbs around your hand, leaking pre-cum. You push your underwear aside, your cunt a soaked mess, and help him align himself with your entrance.

“Are you sure -”

“Please,” you sigh.

He buries himself inside of you, his cock stretching your walls. You let out a loud moan and wrap your arms around his neck for stability. Hyunjin breathes heavily in your neck, his lips feeling hot against your skin.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe I’m fucking you.”

“Don’t stop, Hyunjin, please…”

“Never.”

He nearly removes himself from you, only to thrust his hips deeper. You whimper, holding his body close to yours. He starts to pound into you, almost frantically, but keeping his pelvis in perfect control so that his cock hits the right spots inside of you. Your pleasure builds so quickly you clench around him more tightly with every move, and Hyunjin cries out in your ear.

As you feel yourself drift into your orgasm, your eyes roll back and you grip Hyunjin’s hair. You whimper his name as your body relinquishes control, and as you come around him, Hyunjin lets out a deep grunt and empties himself inside of you. You feel the thick spurts of his seed, you feel his body twitch, you feel his lips trembling.

You breathe out, sweaty and shuddering against him. Hyunjin places a soft kiss on your collarbone and you shiver. It’s almost like you could blink and realize none of this has happened, that you have read the passage from the book and looked at him wishing he would kiss you.

But this is real. This happened.

You don’t know whether to tense or relax, so you stay frozen in place. You both stay like that, just breathing, giving time for reality to go back on its feet. Hyunjin leans back, his lips now a bright red.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he mutters. “I made a mess.”

“It’s all right,” you tell him softly.

You keep your voices low like someone could hear you. Hyunjin steps back, watching as his cum slides down your inner thigh. He blushes violently, and you open your mouth to reassure him - but suddenly you have no idea what to say.

“I’ll get you a towel. Hold on.”

He puts his cock back inside his boxers and walks away, zipping up his jeans. You stay like that, feeling silly and cold. What the fuck just happened? You know what happened. You and Hyunjin just fucked like horny teenagers in a corner of the book café - no conversation, no protection. You’re not that worried about the latter part, you take the pill and you’ll get the necessary precautions, but it’s the fact that you have no idea what it means. Where it came from. It was so sudden, so passionate, so intense. Not that you need to define sex before you have it like it’s a contract with clauses, but it happened so quickly you’re dizzy and feel a little sick.

You are drunk. That explains things.

You are drunk and so attracted to Hyunjin he must have felt it. Not that he took advantage of you. But did he like you? Or was it just a spur of the moment thing? What did he say again? This can’t be real. Your mind spins into nothingness, your thoughts a tangled mess.

Hyunjin reappears with a towel he soaked in warm water, and he hands it to you. You thank him with a smile, and seeing your hesitation, he steps away as you clean yourself up. Once your jeans are buttoned again, you tap his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Sure.”

He looks more beautiful than ever, but you can’t look at him.

He can’t look at you.

Fuck.

“I should head home,” you whisper.

Hyunjin nods, his face hidden behind strands of ruffled hair. Hair the color of carefully made coffee. His eyes, too. Only his lips are the color of the sweetest cherries.

“Of course, yeah. I should - I should do the same, yeah.”

You both gather your things in silence, the tension almost unbearable. You feel like crying, and you know you should say something before it is too late, but you can’t gather the words, you can’t put them in the right order, and then you’re standing next to the door and you have to say goodbye.

“Goodnight,” you say.

You gather the courage to look at him, but he’s not looking at you. He’s staring at his hands, at his shoes, at the floor. Anything but you.

“Goodnight,” he answers.

You step outside. The day has grown terribly, terribly cold.

The café will be closed today. Hyunjin made his decision hours ago. If anyone asks, it is for personal reasons. He does not want to see anyone today.

It’s a boyish reaction but he does not care.

He barely got any sleep, turning in his bed staring at the snow outside his window. He keeps wondering how you feel. What you think. If you got some sleep, or if you were like him, ripped open at the seams, waiting for a coup de grâce that would not come. When daylight starts to seep through his curtains, Hyunjin texts his employees, takes a long shower, and dresses in a large wool sweater and brown corduroy pants.

He still goes to the café because there is no other place he can go. But he takes a piece of paper, writes a few words on it and places it on the front door. Closed exceptionally for today.

Once that is done, Hyunjin lets out a long, shaky sigh and looks at the café. He opened this place more than five years ago and has worked nearly everyday in it since, but today it feels like an unfamiliar place. The walls, the chairs, the books, they all stare back at him.

His legs take him to the Fiction aisle. It looks as it always does, and yet it’s thoroughly changed. On the ground is a book. Hyunjin picks it up with trembling hands. It’s fallen crooked, and some of the pages are creased. He presses his fingers on them, trying to flatten them out; but they are forever marked.

As he is.

Hyunjin breathes out. He wishes he could remember the passage you read to him. He looks through the book for a few minutes but he cannot, for the life of him, recall what the words were. Idiot.

He closes his eyes. He still hears you breathe, how your voice slightly changed as you got tipsy. He sees the texture of your mint green blouse. Your smile as you took the clients’ orders. He feels your soft skin against his. Your cunt tightening around his cock. Fuck, you came so well. So fiercely. You looked so beautiful doing it, your eyes squinted shut, your lips deliciously parted, begging to be kissed. Hyunjin regrets. And yet he can’t.

He should’ve been more in control. He should have taken the time to tell you what he wants, what he thinks of you. He nearly did, when he gave you the macaron and couldn’t take his eyes off your lips. But he had hesitated, overwhelmed by the past hours in such sudden close proximity with you. And then, when he didn’t hesitate, you kissed him back so eagerly and your body responded to his like you had been waiting for this too. Did you feel it, as he thrust into you, how much he wanted you? How captivating he thought you were, how you occupied his mind, how you were all he saw in this goddamn place and everywhere?

Hyunjin slowly sits on the floor, his back to the wall, the book pressed against his chest.

It was the wine. It was the exhaustion. It made him forget that he wanted, if he ever got the honor to touch you, to make it slow. He wanted to take you somewhere warm and comfortable, to undress you, to worship all the parts of you, to make you come around his mouth, to be both chaste and lewd, to see your smile, to hear you gasp. Instead it had been rushed, messy, and inevitably awkward.

He felt you come. He is sure of it. But what if you didn’t like it? What if the awkwardness turned sour? What if you started to hate him for what happened? What if you never came back here again? That would be the worst of all.

He knows what he should have said. Not people like you, but you. You made this place alive.

Hyunjin breathes out, opens the book in his hands, and starts reading.

He reads it again the next day.

And again the day after that.

You’re standing in the middle of a snow storm.

It is not Wednesday and it is well past opening hours. Still, foolishly, you stare at the front door of the Evermore, as if you are expecting it to open.

You stand there for a few minutes before you shake your head, letting out a shaky, bitter laugh. What are you waiting for? Why are you here? It’s late. It’s cold. The wind whistles in your ears and the snow will bury you if you do not move. You need to go home.

You turn on your heels and stare up at the night sky. It isn’t dark, but rather a strange sort of milky, off white. A few snowflakes hit your eyes and you blink. You sit down on the pavement, letting your eyes fill with tears.

It’s Wednesday night and you didn’t go to the café this afternoon. Instead you paced your apartment wondering if you should go. In the end you didn’t, terrified of what you might find in Hyunjin’s eyes. You regret it. At least you would have known. Now you can just sit here with an empty chest, wondering if he waited for you, wondering if he missed you, wondering if you ruined everything.

Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you try harder?

You shake your head, letting your head fall in your hands. You’re so cold. You forgot to put on a hat and gloves. Your fingers and your ears are bright red. They are slowly freezing. Your heart, too.

“Y/N?”

You lift your head at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice. For a second you stare at the dark, wondering if you just imagined him calling your name. But then you turn your head and see him there, in the café, holding the door open. He seems as shocked to see you as you do him.

“What are you doing here?” you breathe.

You’re sure he won’t hear you above the whistles of the wind, but he does.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then Hyunjin frowns and waves towards the inside of the café.

“Come in. You’re going to freeze to death.”

You’re not sure it’s a good idea, and half of you is still wondering if he’s really there, but you stand up and follow him. He doesn’t comment on your visible tears, or your messy hair. He just closes the door behind you. It’s suddenly so silent.

“It’s so late, Y/N, what are…”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, your voice quivering.

Hyunjin looks up at you with wide eyes. There are barely any lights open in the cafe, but the full moon outside is enough for you to see him well.

“It’s Wednesday,” you say. “I wanted to come but I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want to see me.”

Hyunjin clenches his jaw, shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because…” You hesitate. “Because of what happened.”

He looks up at you, prudently, and you stare into his eyes, trying to find an answer in them. He makes it difficult, or maybe it’s just your fear blurring the lines for you. Your lips are trembling, and as your fingers slowly warm up, they burn.

“You’re shivering,” Hyunijn winces. “Let’s warm you up first. Take off your coat.”

You nod, following him into the café, away from the cold windows. You leave your coat and boots near the entrance, and Hyunjin hands you a blanket to wrap yourself in. He disappears behind the counter, pouring water in a kettle, and you snuggle on an armchair. Hyunjin keeps his back to you as he prepares a cup of tea, only reappearing a few minutes later.

“Careful,” he warns you softly, settling the steaming mug on the table next to you. “Don’t burn your tongue.”

“Thanks.”

He turns away from you, and on an impulse, you grab the hem of his shirt. It’s a striped sweater vest, beige and navy, worn above a tight long-sleeve, and it feels soft against your fingers.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. “Can we talk?”

He looks down at your hand. It takes a few seconds, but he smiles.

“Of course we can. Just give me a second.”

You nod, letting him go. He disappears for another minute - when he comes back, he’s holding a mug for himself and a lit candle. He puts it close to you. It smells like pinewood, and makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of a forest.

“I was reading,” he says, sitting down on a chair in front of you. “That’s what I was doing. I lost track of time, it seems.”

You nod timidly. “I know what that’s like.”

A sinking feeling settles in your stomach again. You can’t look at each other. You tell yourself it’s your only chance - you have to know where Hyunjin stands. So you take a deep breath and look up.

As if he read your mind, he looks up too.

Your eyes meet. They stay there.

“I wanted you to,” he says softly. “Of course I wanted you to come.”

Your heart contracts in your chest.

“When you didn’t, I… I thought…” He stumbles on his words. “All I mean is, it’s okay if the other night didn’t mean anything for you.”

It’s sudden, and Hyunjin himself seems surprised by the words that just escaped his mouth, as his eyes slightly widen in panic.

“What I mean is -”

“It does,” you interrupt him.

He frowns, and you take a deep breath.

“It does mean something,” you explain, doing your best to hold up his gaze. “I don’t know what exactly, but it does mean something.”

You stare at him.

“You just confuse me. Because I feel… all those things, and they’re so strong, and I feel… I don’t even know,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. You notice that his hands are grabbing the handles of the armchair tightly. His next words are measured, careful.

“Y/N,” he breathes. “Can I please have a second chance?”

It is so silent around you that you can hear your own heart beating. You can hear Hyunjin breathing. It’s a sweet, gentle sound.

“Let me make it right,” he breathes, springing up from his seat to kneel next to you.

He looks at you with wide, shimmering eyes. His beautiful lips are searching for the right words, with no avail. You extend a shivering hand, cupping his cheek nervously. He leans against it.

“I’ve been craving you all week,” you whisper.

He opens his eyes, and you move from your position to kneel on the carpet next to him, the blanket forgotten behind you. You are not as cold anymore, your body warming in anticipation and desire.

Your fingers trace Hyunijn’s jaw line, and he gently takes your face in his hands, caressing your skin.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod, closing your eyes as he leans in.

It’s an entirely different kiss. It’s careful, delicate. You drift against him, falling in his arms - but your movements are slow, deliberate. He deepens the kiss as you tilt your head to the right, exploring the plumpness of his lips. You stay like that for an immeasurable amount of time, kissing and softly embracing each other, until you are out of breath and your lips feel raw. Then Hyunjin, putting a gentle hand against your neck, leans it backwards and starts to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw. His tongue swirls against the skin of your neck, all the way to your collarbones, and you arch against his caresses.

You undress each other slowly. You take in the sight of his chiseled chest and smooth skin, which almost seems to glow in the light of the candle. He spends a long time kissing your breasts, brushing his nose against your skin. You let out soft whimpers, your fingers tangling his chocolate hair, teasing his ears, stroking his neck.

“Your skin is so cold,” he breathes, placing kisses against your arms, your fingers.

His hands, sprawled on your stomach and hips, feel so incredibly warm.

“I don’t feel cold,” you tell him with a smile.

He smiles back, moving back on top of you to kiss you. You take the opportunity to unbutton his jeans and push them down, cupping his already hard cock in your hand. Hyunjin twitches slightly, letting out a nervous laugh against your mouth.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “You’re just… You make me go crazy, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“So are you, Hyunjin,” you say, placing kisses on his lower lip, on his neck, on his shoulder. “When I’m here I can’t stop looking at you. When I’m not I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Fuck, right back at you,” he laughs, opening his eyes to look at you.

He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, smiling tenderly.

“You never noticed?” he asks you. “Me staring at you?”

You shrug, playing with his hair. He looks so handsome, on top of you like that, the silver chain around his neck hanging loosely.

“I guess I did sometimes. I just thought you found me weird. Like that day with the ice cubes…”

His cock twitches in your hand and he chuckles embarrassingly.

“Oh God, don’t talk about that day.”

You don’t know what to say, but he smiles at you, his eyes a little darker.

“You made me so fucking horny that day I had to jerk off in the bathroom,” he explains, his voice hoarse. “I wanted to lick all that water off your body so bad…”

It’s your turn to clench, and you bite your lip a little too violently.

“You’re fucking with me,” you say, shaking your head.

“I’m not,” he answers, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “I think about that day all the time. Imagining how sweet you taste.”

His mouth goes up to your earlobe, which he takes in his mouth, sucking it in, and you let out an audible moan, pressing your thighs together and squeezing his cock in your hand at the same time.

He hums, and stands back up to take off his jeans for good; he then removes your pants. Hyunjin immediately descends towards your legs, warming your thighs with his wide hands, and he slowly takes off your panties, discarding them with the rest of your clothes.

You lay under him, completely naked, feeling safe. Hyunjin removes his boxers, and you see the full beauty of him, the angles of his hips, the curve of his cock. You take in the sight, and he does the same. Certainly your eyes must be as dizzy as his are. He tugs at his cock, biting his lip, and smiles at you.

“Spread for me, beautiful.”

You oblige, your pussy twitching as he stares down at you, his face contorted with lust. Hyunjin moves, settling his head between your legs. Your heartbeat accelerates as he kisses the insides of your thighs, slowly leading to your cunt. When he puts his plush lips against you, his tongue pressing against your wet folds, you gasp, your hips thrusting at the touch.

“Hyunjin…” you cry out.

He drinks you in, his tongue plunged into you. His caresses are attentive, and you’re never had someone eat you out this way before. It’s so measured and careful and yet so fervent, almost pious despite the sinfulness of the sound he makes against your cunt. It feels like he’s barely breathing, and you feel your entire body tense as he curls his tongue against your clit, teases your entrance, scoops your folds with his full lips.

You grip the carpet, you shudder, and your orgasm is almost overwhelming. A loud moan escapes your mouth, and your legs shake, almost trapping him between them. When your body relaxes, and your thoughts wander away, you feel Hyunjin leaving kisses on your still trembling thighs. You open your eyes with difficulty, and discern him through the fog. He meets your gaze and smiles, his chin and lips coated in you.

“Kiss me,” you plead, pulling him closer to you.

His lips taste of you, of course, but it’s the feeling of his hardness against your still sensitive cunt that sends a shiver across your body. You’re barely recovering from your orgasm, trying to steady your breathing. Hyunjin strokes your hair.

“I hope that was better,” he whispers.

“Better?” you ask with a frown.

“Than last time.”

“Hyunjin…” you say softly.

You open your eyes, taking his face in your hands so he looks at you, too. His hair is a mess, his lips swollen.

“Last time was amazing,” you tell him. “It was quick, but it was good.”

“It was?” he frowns. “I just thought…”

“I mean, it was for me,” you admit. “It was just another kind of sex, but I loved it. Didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” he says, kissing you softly. “I was just worried I ruined it by acting like a horny teenager.”

“We both acted like horny teenagers,” you chuckle. “It’s okay. I got scared too. I guess it just… made us crave for more.”

He nods, smiling at you.

“Like I haven’t wanted to drown in that pussy for months.”

“Hyunjin!” you cry out with a laugh.

He chuckles, and you feel recovered enough, so you sit up slightly, pushing his chest forward.

“Which makes me think,” you smirk. “There’s also something I’ve wanted to do for months. Sit down.”

You guide him towards the armchair, where he takes a seat, staring at you intently. It’s like he doesn’t want to waste a second looking at something else, and you kneel between his legs, leaning forward to kiss his chest.

His cock doesn’t really need your hand to stand on its own, but you still hold it, your fingers gently stroking its base.

“You don’t have to -”

“I want to,” you tell him. “Don’t you?”

“Is it too intense to say I’ve dreamt about this before?”

You blush a little and place a kiss on the tip of his cock.

“No. I like it.”

Hyunjin smirks, gathering your hair between his long fingers to hold it back from your face. You place your other hand on his thigh, and take him in your mouth. You go as low as you can, swirling your tongue around the length at the same time. As you go back up, you hollow your cheeks a little.

Hyunjin lets out a deep groan, his head falling backwards on the armchair. As you keep bobbing your head around his cock, spit and precum making the act a little sloppy, you look up at him. You could draw each vein in his muscled neck from here. It sends a shiver down to your cunt, and you just have to touch yourself, putting pressure against your swollen clit.

You listen to his breathing, loving how his fingers sometimes pull at your hair a little as he tenses. He bucks his hips sometimes, making you take him deeper in your mouth. You don’t mind - you do your best. He’s making such lewd sounds, moaning your name, and perhaps you’re liking this a little too much.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses as you accelerate your movements. “Stop, stop, please.”

You remove him from between your lips, and he lets out a chuckle. He looks like he can barely keep his eyes open, his forehead covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“I just - you’re going to make me come, and I want to make this last.”

You place a gentle kiss on his cock. “But I like doing this,” you pout.

Hyunjin lets out a low laugh, placing a finger under your chin to lift your face towards his. He gives you a slow kiss, his tongue toying with yours.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you touching yourself there,” he whispers. “The sight alone could make me blow on the spot.”

“Then I won’t do it again,” you tease.

“I’ll never forgive you if you don’t,” he retorts with a smirk.

He plunges his lips against yours, moving back on the carpet next to you. His warm, long fingers cup your ass, and then slide against your wet folds before he applies sweet pressure. You gasp around his lips, rolling your hips to reach for more. Hyunjin smiles but does not say a thing - he just keeps going, and then pushes two of his fingers inside of you.

“Yes,” you moan, feeling him stretch you.

“So warm,” he whispers. “So tight for me. Fuck, so beautiful.”

“Give me more of you, please,” you breathe.

He starts to fuck you with his fingers, adding another after a few seconds, and you shudder against him. He reaches deep inside of you, and while it’s a delightful sensation, you still want more.

“No,” you whisper. “I want you inside of me.”

He nods, removing his fingers, licking them clean around his tongue. He accompanies you as you lay down against the carpet, a hand against your back. You keep your eyes in his, kept there by an invisible pull, as the tip of his cock brushes against your cunt. You sigh, your hands reaching for him, pushing your fingers in his soft hair.

Hyunjin enters you with a shuddering moan, and he does not stop until he reaches the furthest he can go. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a soft cry. He feels so good inside of you, both lean and hard.

“My beauty,” he whispers in your ear. “Feels so good around me. I’m gonna go slow, I need to feel every inch of you.”

His thrusts are so slow at first it feels like torture of the sweetest kind. You keep arching your back, begging for more, but at the same time it feels so good, so intimate, you can only enjoy every second. Hyunjin fucks you like he’s writing lines of poetry, like he’s making coffee one drip at a time, like he traces intricate patterns in foamy cream.

“I think you were made for me,” he groans. “Or rather, I was made for you.”

You shudder at his words. “Don’t let me go, please. Not ever.”

He keeps whispering things in your ear, things that make sense, things that don’t, and you let him know how he makes you feel, how a part of you lives in him, in this place that is him. Your voices belong to the both of you, to none of the rest.

After a while his thrusts gain in intensity, and you sit up slightly so that you face him, almost sitting on the carpet with him inside of you. The new position allows him to reach new depth, and the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of you, begging to come undone, sends you into a second orgasm. He growls as you clench, shaking his head, sweat pearling on his lips, and you kiss them again and again. You’re lost in pleasure, Hyunjin dancing into you.

He comes not long after, holding you close to him, your forehead against his. You wish you could bottle up every sound he makes, every single breath that escapes his lips, keep it for later. You just listen to them, their memories safely kept in your very heartbeat.

“I love you,” Hyunjin whispers.

It comes out of nowhere and it doesn’t - it really doesn’t.

You smile, grazing your nose against his.

“I love you, too.”

“Hyunjin.”

He blinks at the sound of his name, turning towards Jeongin, who is smiling politely at him.

“Your friend’s here.”

He nods towards the other end of the counter where Seungmin stands, giving him a wave. Hyunjin smiles back, lifting a finger to tell his friend he’ll be there in a minute. Seungmin nods back and heads towards the tables, taking a seat.

Hyunjin prepares two cups of coffee, then takes off his apron and meets Seungmin at the table.

“Thanks for coming, man,” Hyunjin says, taking a seat with a sigh. “I know the café isn’t exactly in your way.”

“That’s fine,” Seungmin answers. “I get free coffee, don’t I?”

“That’s true,” Hyunjin smiles.

��But you work too much, man. You’re here almost every day.”

Hyunjin nods - everyone says that to him all the time. He’s aware of it. But his whole life is the café. He would be nothing without it, and there’s rarely a day he actually forces himself to come to work.

“What can I tell you?” he sighs with a shrug. “I like it.”

Seungmin shakes his head. “I like my job, too, but everyone needs a few days off. Don’t forget there’s a world out there.”

“You sound like you’re going to tell me I need to broaden my horizons, live a little, get laid.”

Seungmin scoffs, taking a sip of coffee. “Well, you do.”

“Next you’ll tell me you know someone I’d like, and you can introduce us?”

“Well…”

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin chuckles.

The latter laughs, putting down his cup and crossing a leg over the other. He looks relaxed, almost detached, but Hyunjin knows him well enough. Seungmin always cares. Hyunjin bites his lip, tapping a finger on his leg. Then, he leans forward, his elbows on the table, and smiles at his friend.

“She’s back.”

“Who?”

“Y’know.”

Understanding flashes in Seungmin’s eyes. “Ice cube girl?”

“Hm.”

Hyunjin told Seungmin about you one drunken night. The two friends were inside a pub, hidden away in a booth, exchanging stories. Seungmin, who had just recently started going out with his girlfriend, started talking about sex. So Hyunjin told him about the sexiest thing he had ever seen. You, with the ice cubes.

“Oh.” Seungmin grins, looking around. “Does she still come every week?”

“Yeah.”

“I think she has a crush on you, man.”

Hyunjin smirks. “I think so, too.”

He can’t help it - he glances at you, who is sitting at your usual table. You’re sipping a simple black coffee, half of an espresso macaron still on your plate. You’re wearing Hyunjin’s favorite sweater, the apricot colored one.

He chose it himself from your closet this morning. Seungmin follows his gaze, and as you feel the two pairs of eyes on you, you lift your head and smile at them. Seungmin waves back, inviting you to join them. You do, Hyunjin holding your hand tightly in his own.

Outside the snow melts under a clear sun, giving way to a hopeful spring.

“Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home — my only home.” — charlotte brontë

• permanent taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @tanyas97 ; @raspbinniecreme ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit ; @sikebishes ; @sai-kida134 ; @sstarryoong ; @oxviolentheartxo (i'm unable to tag you sorry)

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