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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Eddie Munson x fem!reader [33K] summer camp, a few almost kisses, that friends to lovers shit and your own personal rule: no boys.

I want you to want me.

The man in front of you seemed stressed.

The fax machine was whirring, the phone was ringing and there was a large glass jar on the desk that was stuffed full of dollar bills, a faded label on the front that said “therapy kayak money.”

Jim Hopper, your new boss and camp leader, handed you a set of keys and a shirt, sighing as he scrubbed a hand over his moustached face.

“Michigan? Right?”

You weren’t sure if the man was asking where you were from or blessing you with a new name because he couldn’t remember your real one. But either way, you nodded.

“Look kid, I’m sorry but things are crazy here today. The dumbass delivery truck is lost and we’re already a few counsellors down until the road through Martinsville opens back up.”

You raised your brows, confused.

“Fallen tree,” Hopper waved his hand, “it’s fine. Listen, the campers don’t arrive for another three days anyway. Can you get yourself settled? I’ll find someone to show you the ropes soon, I just gotta answer some calls.”

You nodded again, clutching your faded shirt in your hands. The collar and cuffs matched the same sun bleached green that the word “staff” was printed in and the keys had a tab with “cabin thirty one” attached.

Hopper must’ve seen your worried face because he sighed again, softening a little despite the way he was desperately shuffling papers and files.

“You’ll be fine,” the man told you. It was almost reassuring. “The rest of the counsellors are great - well, the majority of them at least. Don’t talk to Billy. Anyway, the kids are easy enough and Bob actually makes some decent food in that old kitchen.”

Jim looked at you with kind eyes and his voice softened even further, despite the way the phone was still ringing. “Grab some breakfast, tell him I sent you, yeah? And take the morning to explore.”

It was alarming, the way you’d found yourself in the middle of Yellowwood State Forest, a whole other state away from home. But after graduating high school almost two years ago with absolutely zero idea of what you were supposed to do next, and an ex-boyfriend you so desperately wanted to avoid, you figured a few months in the wilderness wouldn’t do you any harm. Especially if you were getting paid for it.

And besides, you were good with children.

“Welcome to Camp Upside Down, kid, don’t eat the mushrooms,” Hopper smiled somewhat tiredly and then you were on your own.

Fuck.

Stepping out of the cabin, the warmth and smell of a new summer washed over you. The forest was quiet in the early morning but still very much alive, soft chirps and buzzes from hidden animals, insects that lurked in the too long grass by the edges of the lake. Something splashed by the dock, and in the distance, you could hear a car approaching, maybe two, one louder than the other.

The dirt paths were empty, the lack of kids running around making Camp Upside Down seem almost serene. It was still early, the sun a little golden, the sky a little hazy and the light that shone through the tree canopy made pretty dappled patterns on the forest floor. Everything smelled like morning dew, damp grass and tree moss.

And then your stomach grumbled. Deciding that your bags could stay in your car for a little while longer, you took Hopper’s advice and headed towards what you assumed was the mess hall. The dirt paths led the way through trees, past the unlit camp fire that sat proud in the middle of the forest clearing.

You could smell coffee as you approached, maybe bacon, some maple syrup too. It cut through the scent of pine and leftover rain but then there was smoke and the familiar smell of weed and then - fuck - the solid frame of someone slamming into you.

“Oh shit.”

Or did you walk into them? You weren’t sure, but whoever it was had been hiding around the corner you were turning, their back pressed to the old, moss covered wood of an unused cabin. You dropped your keys in surprise, catching your staff shirt before it fell into something that looked more like sludge than mud.

But the person, the boy, you’d ran into picked up your keys before you could, your eyes a little wild because the forest had been so quiet and you hadn’t expected to see anyone. Not yet.

“Cabin thirty one?” the boy asked you, holding the silver back out by the keyring. He was smiling, kind, wide, a slow and warm stretch that showed off the dimples in his cheeks.

Oh fuck, he was pretty, and he was a lot more man than boy.

You took the keys from his hand, smiling in thanks but your breath was stuck in your throat because this guy in front of you was far, far too nice to look at. Dark, messy curls, bangs that were falling into the biggest, brown eyes you’d ever seen. They looked a little soulful, bright, full of mischief and they blinked at you when you didn’t say anything.

“Fuck, thanks,” you managed and then you gestured back to the the corner you’d turned, “m’sorry, I must’ve not been paying attention, I didn’t even s-”

The boy grinned, brushed away your apology with a hand that was still holding a lit joint. He winced and stubbed it out on the side of the cabin, winking at you as he did.

“Nah, s’fine, don’t worry about it,” he told you. “I was totally lurking. Definitely in places I shouldn’t be.”

He wasn’t wearing a staff shirt, you noticed. Instead, his was black with a band logo for Metallica on the front. The sleeves had been entirely cut off, the sides of the cotton gaping around his waist, tattoos showing through the slashes and there was so much bare skin.

It didn’t look like a counsellor uniform. Nothing about the way this boy looked like it was by the book. More tattoos littered his arms: some bats, a spider, some kind of dragon, a scary looking puppet. His black jeans were ripped, his belt too long and the end of it hung by his knee. His big boots were creased and worn, black and already layered with mud and pine needles from the forest.

And then he tucked what was left of his joint behind his ear and he was smiling at you in the softest way; big, brown eyes and dimples too. He suddenly wasn’t as scary as you thought he was trying to be.

“You're the new girl, right?”

You twisted your lips, nodded, because you had to be right? No one else stood with you at orientation - if you could call it that - and Hopper hadn’t mentioned any other new counsellors. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned anyone.

“I guess?” You replied, smiling a little more warmly when the boy grinned, tucked a curl behind his other ear and shoving his hands in his back pockets.

His arms flexed and you swallowed hard.

You told him your name, clutched your keys and your shirt a little closer to your chest because the boy was looking at you with those eyes that seemed to see through your fucking bones. Did you have a soul? You were sure he could see it if you did.

“I’m Eddie,” he told you, kicking stray rock. Was he blushing? “Eddie Munson, I teach music here.”

“So you do work here,” you squinted at him, eyes narrowed on the slashed up shirt, the ripped denim. “I was starting to wonder if I was just talking to some random dude in the middle of the forest.”

He laughed, tilting his head to look at you, “well that just tells me you’re far too trusting.”

“Or just up for a little trouble,” you replied too quickly.

His answering grin was nothing short of scandalous.

“Where’re you from?” Eddie asked, moving in a way that told you he had a problem staying still. He walked into a burst of sunlight that lit the forest floor, came alive under the glow of it, his dark hair turning a little lighter, his pale skin showing a little more signs of being touched by summer.

“Michigan, a small town you probably wouldn’t have heard of,” you told him. “You from around here?”

“Nah, Philly,” he replied, still smiling at you like he’d found his new favourite thing to do.

You gasped, all faux shock like you’d stumbled across a celebrity. “Ooh, a city boy, in the woods? Do the papers know?”

Eddie laughed again, a proper, lovely laugh that made your cheeks heat up ‘cause you felt like you’d achieved something.

He hummed, leaned against the cabin he’d been using for his hiding spot and crossed his arms over his chest. You tried not to stare at the way his muscles moved, or how the collar of his shirt shifted to show off a glinting, silver chain around his neck.

“Sometimes it’s nice to just touch a tree, you know?” He smiled, almost flirtatiously if it weren’t for the fact his cheeks were rosy and his eyes were downcast shyly. “Plus, my parole officer says I gotta do at least another four summers here.”

“Par- what?” You tried not to let the shock show on your face. You weren’t sure you’d succeeded. “Oh.”

That grin was back, that wide, slow spreading one that showed off the dimple on his right cheek. It made his eyes flash, made them look darker than they were when he stood in the sun and Christ, fuck, he was a menace.

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh.”

“Or am I?”

You stood, slack jawed and unsure because this boy was still a stranger and even though he had nice eyes and a pretty smile, you didn’t really know him.

He must’ve sensed your hesitation though, because he was suddenly stricken looking, curls bouncing as he shook his head at his own last words. “No, no - shit - I really was kidding.”

Maybe it was something in his face that made you believe him, that awfully earnest shine in his eyes. He looked concerned, worried that he’d scared you away so quickly but then you were snorting, not the most attractive sound, but it made the boy light back up.

He was watching you carefully after that, your little sound of amusement leaving a pretty smile on your lips and he mirrored it, swaying a little on the spot like he was too excited to stay still. Then, a hand, not really offered for you to hold, but a gesture for you to follow him. Silver rings flashed in the sun, skulls and demons and was that a pig?

It didn’t matter, your feet were moving and you were following him.

He seemed as surprised as you were, looking over his shoulder at you with a big smile, catching your elbow when you tripped on a root. You would’ve been embarrassed if he didn’t do the same almost five seconds later, both of you snorting as his boots slid on some damp moss.

“First time at camp?” he asked as a way of distraction, hands shoved back into his jean pockets, like he had to stop himself from reaching out to guide you through the forest.

You nodded, finding your footing with him as he led you onto a narrow pathway, the wooden signposts pointing you both towards the mess hall.

“Uh, yeah, figured I’d try something new,” you said.

Eddie grinned like he’d heard that answer before. “What’re you running from?” he asked.

His words made you stop, shoes pushed to the pine needles and you felt a little warm, a little shocked, that he’d figured you out so quickly. And if Eddie sensed your surprise, he didn’t show it, he just leaned up against a tree trunk and waited for you to say something, even if it was to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business.

But instead, you shrugged and told him the truth.

“Tiny town with not much to do and nowhere to go,” you squinted at him in the sun, a humourless smile on your lips. “And maybe some people that get hard to avoid in a place that has a population of like, seven hundred.”

“A boy?” Eddie smiled knowingly.

“Presumptuous,” you shot back but he saw the heat on your cheeks and the way you stared at the tree behind him.

“But not wrong,” he countered. That smile was still there. He didn’t push at your silence though, just tilted his head further down the bath and said, “c’mon, trouble.”

“Have you worked here before?” You asked, scrambling to keep up with his long strides. It was obvious from the way he was leading you that he had, but you didn’t know what else to say. You winced in embarrassment. “Of course you have, I meant how ma-”

“This’ll be my fourth,” Eddie told you, putting you out of your misery by ignoring the way your cheeks were warm. “Started off as a lifeguard before I realised I can’t really save myself in the water, never mind some kids, and then Hop let me run my own music workshop instead.”

You were impressed, even though you tried to hide it. “A whole workshop, huh?”

Eddie smiled as he led you round another corner, passing empty cabins that would soon be filled with sticky handed kids. A larger building was finally in sight, with big windows and a pitched roof, a wooden sign with ‘mess hall’ above the door and the smell of fresh coffee coming from inside.

He hummed, a sound of confirmation and as you both strolled towards the hall, Eddie told you all about his job.

“A whole workshop,” he repeated, “I teach guitar, drums, a little piano and I’m working on getting some more percussion stuff in for the kids who are… lacking rhythm.”

“Oh, I’m definitely a percussion girl,” you cracked. “A triangle would be a challenge.”

“I give private lessons, if you need them,” Eddie murmured and you weren’t sure if you imagined the way his voice dropped a little lower, the way he seemed to be looking at you through his lashes.

You stalled, stumbled, close enough to the mess hall now that you could hear the hushed hisses of coffee machines, the clatter of some dishes. If your cheeks hadn’t been pink before, they certainly were now. You could feel the heat there, a rosy beam you were sure.

“Uh-”

“Ohmygodno,” Eddie rushed out, eyes wide and hands in front of him, like he was warding off a cornered animal. “No, no! I actually do give lessons. Private lessons.”

You were still staring, lips parted. The whole forest was quiet, like it was listening in too.

“Guitar.” Eddie’s voice was short. Strained. God, his cheeks were pink too.

“Oh.”

You were both silent. A beat passed, maybe another, and somewhere above, a bird called out, mocking. It suddenly felt so much warmer than it already had, the sun climbing, Eddie’s eyes trained on your shoulder, too shy to meet your eye.

The air felt thicker than it should’ve.

But then the boy was clapping his hands together, the noise sharp enough that it made a squirrel leap from a nearby bush and disappear up a tree. Eddie swung his arms, limbs clumsy, a little on edge and finally, finally, he looked at you again.

“So, this is the, uh, the mess hall.” He pointed to the sign that said as exactly such and clicked his tongue, closing his eyes in more awkward embarrassment. “Yup.”

You nodded, clutching your shirt a little tighter in your hand, keys clinking as you have an equally pathetic thumbs up to the boy. “Yeah, that’s great, yeah… thanks, Eddie.”

He clicked his fingers, pointed them at you like a fake gun and then he was groaning, thumbs pressed into his closed eyes as he stumbled blindly away from you. You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your chest, tried to hide it with a twist of your lips but it made your cheeks sore, in the nicest sort of way.

“Uh, yeah, so roll call’s at eleven sharp, Hop hates it when we’re late and uh-” Eddie stood a little away, what he seemed to deem a safe distance from you. “I’d offer to help you find your cabin but I’ve already proven myself to be an absolute sex pest, so-”

You really did laugh then, a choked off sound that made Eddie grin and you smothered your own behind you fist.

He was sweet, cute. Really pretty. Even sweeter when he smiled at you like that, eyes sincere and so bright, his lips stretched out soft like he was amazed he’d gotten you to laugh at all.

“They’re back past the firepit, right?”

The boy nodded, hooked a thumb over his shoulder and told you, “yeah, just follow the path that veers off towards the lake. You’re not that far from mine. If you come to a, like, massive cliff, you’ve gone too far.”

You tried to hide another grin, squinted at him in the sun and wondered how you were going to get through the summer with Eddie Munson and your own self appointed rule:

No boys.

—————

Hopper's office was packed when you slipped back inside just before eleven o’clock. The fax machine was still whirring but the phone had stopped and you realised as you sat down, that a man you hadn’t seen before was holding the cable for it in his hand, unplugged and blissfully silent.

He stared at you through thick framed glasses, clipboard in his other hand and he scanned his paper.

“Michigan, right?” He asked you.

You mumbled your own name, nervous to speak too loud with so many new faces staring at you. You spotted Eddie across the room, lazing on an old couch next to a pretty boy with wild hair and an even prettier girl on his lap. Eddie grinned at you, lifted his hand from his lap and wiggled his fingers in a wave.

But the older man was huffing, scanning what you realised was your staff file and he brushed off your reply.

“Yeah, uhuh, Michigan, that’s what I said.”

You didn’t argue, didn't dare, ‘cause every pair of eyes was set upon you, so you dropped to an almost empty sofa and stared at your feet. Next to you, a girl with short hair and a backwards cap leaned in. She had a warm smile, sleepy eyes and freckles across her cheeks, and knee nudged yours.

She felt like a friend.

“Unless you wanna be known as ‘new girl’ for the next six weeks, I’d let Murray call you Michigan.” She grinned, voice soft. “I’m Robin.”

Before you could reply, Hopper was standing back up, clapping his hands together and motioning to his camp assistant. “Okay kids, let’s go. Murray?”

“Roll call, shitheads, look alive!” Murray barked, grinning wildly like this was his favourite hobby. “Chrissy, welcome back, we missed you last year. You’re back on gymnastics, but we’re gonna need you to report to Joyce for a first aid refresher, okay?”

A blonde by the window grinned and nodded, eyes wide and bright, features perky and flushed pink.

“Steve, Hawkins,” Murray pointed to the two on the sofa, neither really paying attention to him as they whispered to each other. “You’re both on games too if you can promise to behave-”

“-and to not break anymore goddamn kayaks,” Hopper cut in. The room snickered and the couple rolled their eyes, grumbling something about the quality of boats at camp.

“-and Harrington, you’re off the lifeguard rota since you and Hargrove can’t play nice. We want you on orienteering and Jason, you’re on lake duty now.”

Two blonde boys who stood by the window fist bumped, and from the way one of them wore all denim and sunglasses indoors, you had a feeling that he was the Billy your boss had warned you about.

“Argyle,” Murray barked and a long haired boy jerked awake from where he sat sleeping against the back wall. “Woodshop…let's keep it to bird boxes and kitchen utensils, yeah? Mrs Harlaw didn’t appreciate her son coming home with a custom rolling tray last summer.”

“Sure thing, my dude,” Argyle nodded, smiling happily.

“Buckley, you’re back in the kitchens with Bob, the kids love your sloppy joes, who’d have thought it, huh?”

Robin gave an unenthusiastic salute, spinning her hat the right way around so she could pull the brim of it low enough to close her eyes and not be seen.

“Munson, we’re gonna need your workshop schedule by tomorrow, please and thank you,” Murray handed Eddie some sheets of paper, “and you have seventeen new sign ups for private lessons. If you can make it twenty by the time the first week is out, we’ll look at negotiating pay.”

“Yessir,” Eddie murmured, flicking through the list he’d been handed. His eyes found yours and you warmed at the realisation you’d been caught staring.

He tilted his head towards the sheet, smiled and mouthed, “wanna sign up?”

But then Murray stepped in front of him, barely looking as he said, “Edward, stop flirting with the newbie,” you burned at the laughter, looking at the wall that held a mess of Polaroids and crayon drawings, paintings that were dated back ten years plus. “Nancy and Jonathan should hopefully arrive tomorrow, once the road has opened back up, so in the meantime, please for the love of god, don’t make me have to babysit you all.”

The man turned back to you and grinned, almost menacingly, eyebrows raised in a challenge. “New kid, Michigan, whatever your name is…” Murray searched down the list for your information, a finger scanning over the page. “Okay we’ve got you on arts and crafts with Nancy and if Chrissy needs help in the gym, you’ll be working Fridays there too, got it?”

You nodded, smiling a little tight ‘cause everyone in the room was still staring at you.

And just like that, Hopper plugged the phone back into the wall and Murray clapped his hands together, a signal for everyone to gather their things, schedules clutched in their hands as they stood. The ringing started again, the fax machine whirred and you were pushed outside with the rush of the small crowd.

The morning sun caught you the same time a hand did, just as warm on the small of your back, right before you stumbled over old roots that had grown too wild. You turned to find Eddie, smiling kindly, a little shyly, holding you until you found your footing again.

“Doing okay there?”

You let out a sigh that you hoped he couldn’t hear shake, squinting a little in the sun. “Yeah! Yeah— just, just a little overwhelmed.”

He nodded like he understood, taking his hand away but you still felt the burn over your shirt, cheeks feeling just as warm as he kept smiling that smile. There was a boy hovering behind him, smirking a little, brown eyes on both of you as he pretended that he wasn’t listening.

“Just wait until the kids arrive, you really gotta watch out for the ones that bite,” Eddie grinned when you laughed, hands shoved in his pockets and he hoped he didn’t look as flushed as he felt.

“Are you speaking from experience?” You asked him, feeling lighter than you had inside the cabin. The air smelled like pine and the creek you knew that flowed nearby. “Should I have made sure my shots were up to date before I came?”

“Oh yeah, rookie error, sweetheart,” Eddie grinned wolfishly, “it’s the little ones that’ll get you, the five year olds that can still reach your ankles.”

You snorted and suddenly you were pushing at his shoulder, hand on his bare skin and he was warm and soft under the tattoo ink and nonono, you weren’t supposed to be flirting.

So you cleared your throat and took a step back, eyes searching the moss at your feet and the forest seemed so much warmer than it was before. Before you could say anything else though - before you could dig yourself any deeper - the boy that seemed to be waiting for Eddie interrupted.

He had wild hair and a staff hoodie that had a girl's name stitched on the chest instead of his own and he was smirking.

“Uh, not to interrupt this little,” he waved a hand between the two of you, “thing, but if you want my help moving the amps, Eds, we gotta get it done soon.”

“I hope you can sense the irony in that, Harrington,” Eddie shot back and the other boy - Steve, you were sure - just grinned. “But yeah, I’ll get you at the van.” Eddie threw a set of keys at his friend and then it was just the two of you once more.

“So, uh, there’s a staff party tonight,” Eddie explained, bringing one arm up to mess with the curls at the back of his head, squinting down at you like the sun was too bright and he was too casual to care about the words he was saying. “S’usually down by the dock, the beer is shit but it’s free. I’ll see you there?”

The boy was looking at you so earnestly that you couldn’t possibly have said no. Big, brown eyes, lined with impossibly thick lashes that blinked prettily at you as he waited for an answer. It wasn’t until you heard too much birdsong from the tree canopy that you realised you were staring at him, lips parted and saying absolutely nothing.

Then you were nodding, trying hard not to smile too much because the boy’s grin was contagious and he was too pretty with the way the sun shone on him.

“Yeah,” you told him. “I’ll see you there.”

—————

The lake was framed with the stacked kayaks, the sand so much cooler now that the sun had dipped below the mountains along the horizon. There was a din of music, laughter, conversation dulled with the sound of the lake lapping at the shoreline and the idea of this space in the forest being your home for six weeks, didn’t seem so bad.

You wandered closer with arms crossed across your chest, wary and unsure of the unfamiliar faces and the smell of weed in the air that mixed with the pine needles. But a blonde girl that you recognised from the morning meeting caught your eye and waved, ponytail swinging as she walked over to you.

“Hey! Michigan, right?” She smiled, cheeks and lips a matching bubblegum pink.

“Uh, yeah. Apparently,” you smiled, not bothering to correct her, especially when she was handing you a red cup of something strong. You sipped, grimacing at the taste of cheap beer, lukewarm at best. “You’re Chrissy?”

You prayed you’d remembered right and when the girl grinned and nodded, you let out a sigh of relief.

“How’re you finding things?” Chrissy asked, nodding towards the small fire that someone had made on the sandy knoll, to the group of counsellors sprawled around it. “Did you get settled okay?”

You walked with her, edging around an old dock that seemed ready to sink into the bottom of the lake, waving shyly to the people who greeted you, the music too loud to really exchange anything more. You leaned into the blonde, mouth near her ear as you replied.

“Yeah, yeah— it’s been good!” You shrugged, somewhat unsure. “It’s different. Quiet.”

And it was. Your cabin was the last one in the row of counsellor homes, far away from the main offices and mess halls, almost hidden by the overgrown shrubs, wildflowers growing up the sides of the porch stairs. Everything outside was birdsong and the buzz of insects you couldn’t see, a tiny trickle of water from a creek that ran by the back wall window.

Chrissy smiled and patted your arm, “enjoy it while it lasts, the kids will destroy the peace soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said wryly and just as you went to take another long sip from your cup, the girl's eyebrows shot up and she tilted her chin to something behind you.

“Someone’s waiting on you.”

You turned, heart picking up in an embarrassing fashion as you spotted Eddie lingering by the dockside, a matching red cup in his hand as he spoke with Steve and another girl, who were debating animatedly about something you couldn’t hear. But he was watching you.

You looked from the boy and back to Chrissy, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt and Chrissy grinned, nudging at your arm with her elbow.

“Go say hi,” she said and her voice was too sweet and small to sound commanding, but you did so anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow? We can go over the gym schedule.”

You nodded, already walking across the sand to where Eddie was standing and you wondered if you imagined the way he pulled himself up a little straighter at your approach. He met you halfway, seemingly eager to get away from his two friends who were now too busy making out, hands pulling at each other's belt loops.

“Hi,” you smiled, wondering how he looked as pretty in the moonlight as he did under the sun.

“You made it,” Eddie greeted, tapping his cup against your own. “Makin’ friends?”

Eddie waved at Chrissy over your shoulder, ignoring how she looked at your back and winked, shooting him a thumbs up in response to a question he didn’t ask.

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, following him as he led you both over to a dried out log that sat a little away from the fire - and an apparent audience. “Yeah, Chrissy seems nice.”

“She is,” Eddie agreed, sitting close enough to you that your legs brushed. It seemed to be accidental, ‘cause he flinched and moved a little, leaving enough room between you both that you felt the cooler nip of the night air. “Most of the guys here are.”

“Most?”

Eddie scrunched his nose in a very endearing show of disdain. “Jason is questionable,” he stage whispered to you, leaning back in so you could smell his cologne and campfire smoke that clung to him. “And Hargrove is more than questionable.”

You snorted, eyeing the boy in question. Billy Hargrove was lit up by firelight, a can of beer held to his lips and his denim jacket was almost too tight across his shoulders. He was blonde, blue eyed and dangerous looking, the kind of pretty that was too good to be true, the kind your mother told you to stay away from.

And with good reason, you noted, ‘cause the boy caught your gaze and even though he grinned, you realised there wasn’t much kindness behind those pretty baby blues.

“Yeah,” you agreed mildly, “I’ve been well warned about him. I’m not interested in knowing more.”

Eddie seemed a little surprised, hiding his smile behind his cup as he took a sip. There was a rolled up joint tucked behind his ear that he seemed to have forgotten about, curls less wild than earlier now the heat in the air has fizzled out, a too big sweater on top of his previously slashed up shirt.

“Not your type?” Eddie asked, aiming for casual. He was staring out at the lake, taking quick glances at you from the corner of his eyes as he waited for a reply.

You huffed out a laugh and it sounded more like a sigh, the boy noted and the smile you gave him was a tired around the edges. You dug the heel of your sneaker into the sand, kicked at a rock you unearthed and tried not to sound too self deprecating when you explained:

“No one’s really my type, right now.”

“Oh?”

You wondered if you misheard the disappointment in the boy’s voice, if Eddie really did look a little sadder than before when your gaze met his again. He was smiling, soft, eyebrows raised in question and his knee nudged your own.

“I’ve sworn off relationships,” you explained, shrugging. The memory of a boy you wanted to forget was still lingering in the corners of your thoughts and it made your skin itch. “Kinda over boys, nothing but trouble, unfortunately.”

Eddie grinned wryly, placing his empty cup at his feet and fiddling with the silver rings on his fingers instead. You tried not to stare but the moon and the surface of the lake was glinting off of them, making you gawk at long fingers and wide palms, tiny silver scars that lit up in the low light.

“Trouble, huh?” Eddie asked, head turned to you so you could see just how brown his eyes really were. “That’s a shame. I’m good at trouble.”

You inhaled on your drink, beer hitting the back of your throat at his words and you could feel the heat in your cheeks as you spluttered. Eddie was laughing quietly when you swiped the back of your hand across your lips and glared at him, embarrassment making your chest tight.

“No boys,” you told him, choosing to ignore his reply. You didn’t really know what to say to that, not without being able to drag him back to your bunk afterwards — and that was the opposite of the plan. “I need a summer to just… recalibrate.”

Eddie was still smiling and he nodded, everything about his soft and gentle and lit up by the stars. There was a dimple on his right cheek you wanted to put your lips on.

“Seems like a good plan,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to your lips and Jesus Christ, the night seemed as warm as the day next to Eddie. He brought a thumb to your chin, sliding upupup until the pad of it swiped at the corner of your mouth, wiping away a little drop of beer you’d missed.

You swallowed, hard.

“Still a shame though,” the boy told you, sighing dramatically, letting his hand drop away. Eddie stared back out to the lake, grinning when you frowned.

“It is?” You weren’t sure where he was going with this.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie assured you, nodding emphatically. Everything the boy said and did seemed to be dripping in drama, glitter and theatrics. It made you smile even when you didn’t mean to. “I had a plan, you see.”

It was your turn to seem intrigued, brows raised, shoulders leaning into him. “Oh?”

Eddie sighed again, just as playful as before, heavy and over exaggerated. “We were totally gonna fall in love,” the boy explained, trying hard to keep the smile off of his face, but his lips were turning up at the corners and his eyes looked like brown sugar, glittering and warm.

You scoffed, a sharp noise of surprise bursting from your chest and it made Eddie beam. He was all soft edges and softer eyes as he looked at you, ignoring the way his friends were watching, his gaze trained on the way you were grinning for him.

“We were?” You laughed — you’d forgotten to be shy, you’d forgotten you didn’t really know this boy, not yet.

But Eddie nodded again, curls springing, bangs falling into his eyes with the movement and you were closer again, knees brushing, toes of your shoes touching his in the sand.

“Totally,” he told you solemnly. “Was gonna be a whole thing, we had the meet cute, right?”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, a lovely ache that reached your chest. You nodded, aiming to look as serious as the boy did but failing miserably. You remembered the way you’d slammed into each other, morning sun and a tumbling in your stomach that you didn't want to acknowledge. “Oh, of course,” you agreed.

“And then we were gonna spend all summer doing that totally annoying ‘will they, won't they’ thing, y’know? Maybe a couple of almost kisses, an interrupted moment or two—”

“—wow, you’re a real romantic, huh?”

Eddie ignored you, but his smile grew bigger. “—but I guess we’re gonna have to change up the script. Start off as friends, do that slow burn kinda shit.”

“We are?” You hated that you were still playing along. You hated that you were so close to the boy, that you liked the way he smelled, like smoke and cologne and cheap beer and the way the lake smelled at night. “Do I need to learn lines?”

Eddie’s grin changed to something softer, gaze falling from your eyes to your lips and back again, his cheeks pink and his dimples deepening. He shook his head. “Nah, you’re a natural.”

Eddie was all pink cheeks and soft smiles, honey brown eyes and curls that made him seem like he’d just rolled out of bed. But he was looking at you like a new friend, a new something and the smell of campfire smoke and damp moss was the new scent of home. It clung to Eddie like it did you and it made your brain a little fuzzy, it made you forget about home and ruined plans and nine to five jobs in brick buildings and boys who broke your heart.

This summer tasted like cheap beer and it felt like sand in your shoes, like sunburnt cheeks and a new kind of boy who seemed to like to make you smile.

For the second time that day - your very first day at Camp Upside Down - you were struggling to remember why swearing off boys had seemed like such a good idea.

I need you to need me.

The kids arrived that Saturday and brought chaos with them.

They poured out of the out of service school buses, sunshine yellow amongst the trees, parents cars filling up the usually empty parking lot. There was luggage everywhere, backpacks abandoned on benches and at the foot of trees, forgotten about as friends greeted old friends.

Chrissy had been right, it was loud. The sounds of the forest drowned out by shouts and chatter, the overlap of parents yelling at their kids about the importance of vitamins and bug spray, all whilst Hopper, Murray and Nancy stood near the unlit fire and tried to yell out names.

It was a little mad and you were clutching your own clipboard, a list of kids on it that you’d never met before and suddenly you were terrified that the bunch of preteens you were responsible for keeping alive would hate you.

The kids ran rampant, already hanging from tree branches and trading god knows what from the hidden depths of their backpacks and Christ, someone was blasting ‘Sex Machine’ by James Brown from a boombox no adult could actually find within the crowd.

As if he could sense your panic, Eddie appeared at your elbow. He greeted you with the same smile he had on the first day, that slow, soft spread of his lips that made you feel too warm. His hair was pulled back today, a haphazard bun that kept the heat away from his curls and you could see more of his face; strong jaw, the slants of his cheekbones, the line of his neck. He wore the same staff shirt as you, long sleeves rolled to the elbow with his name printed on the front of his chest and there were a few patches sewn underneath.

A guitar, a skull and crossbones and a small teddy bear.

You grinned, reaching a finger out to poke at the last one. “Cute,” you said in lieu of a greeting.

Eddie frowned, or at least you think he tried to. His lips were turned up at the corners, nose scrunched as he batted your hand away with no force behind it. He was standing close, close enough that you could smell the shampoo he must have used that morning, close enough that you could hear him over the roar of the camp.

“You couldn’t have noticed the more metal ones, huh, sweetheart?” he acted offended, chin tucked to his chest so he could peer at the red guitar stitched near his name.

“Not a chance,” you laughed and Eddie lifted his head at the sound, gaze landing on your mouth as if he could see your happiness. “Why the bear?”

“Because--” Eddie hummed, scanning his list of names before finding the culprit on your own sheet. “--This little guy called me Teddy for his first two summers.” He pointed to a name on the bottom of your paper, someone called Dustin Henderson.

“Even cuter,” you told him and he shrugged, cheeks pink and seemingly enjoying your attention.

Eddie stretched, all faux bravado and charm his side brushing your own and you tried hard not to stare at the way his shirt lifted, a slice of bare skin peeking out between it and his jeans. “I know,” he sighed dramatically, like it was a hardship. “Fallen in love with me yet?”

You snorted, an awful noise that should’ve made your cheeks flush with heat but Eddie only grinned wider.

“Not yet,” you told him and you rolled your eyes when the boy grabbed at his chest with two hands, as if your rejection wounded him.

“There’s still time,” his reply was quiet and close to your ear, a brush of a stray curl over your cheek that made you shiver. “Anyway, what hellspawn have you been left with? Need help?”

You were grateful for both the change of subject and the assistance, handing Eddie your clipboard when he held out his hand. He chuckled at the list and nodded to himself, scanning through the names before giving it back to you and smiling kindly.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he told you, “you’ve got a good bunch.”

You blew out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, smiling back at him, “yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” the boy assured and he nudged your arm with his elbow, squinting through the sun and the mess of loud colours at the kids that swarmed the main camp area. “And if they give you any trouble, you can just tell them your friend Eddie will sort them out.”

His words warmed you more than they should and the word ‘friend’ sounded lovely on his lips.

“Friend?”

Eddie peered down at you from behind his bangs, curls hanging messily in front of his eyes and it made him look a little younger than he was. There was that smile again, the wide, slow stretch of his lips and it was warmer than the sun, the summer, the June heat lingering even in the early morning hour.

He looked at you as if you’d told him a joke and he scoffed, “uh, yeah? This summer romance has to start somewhere, sweetheart.” He said it lightly, prettily, soft enough that you didn’t really want to correct him.

Besides, he was joking. Wasn’t he?

But then he was gone, reappearing ten minutes later with a gaggle of kids that were apparently a part of your group, smiling triumphantly when you visibly sagged with relief. The campers were still chattering, but they dutifully raised one hand and yelled out some sort of confirmation when you called out their names.

Dustin Henderson.

Mike Wheeler.

Maxine Mayfield.

Erica Sinclair.

Janie Evans.

Adam Johnstone.

Eddie was walking back into the crowd to find his own kids just as Maxine was telling you that you were to call her Max and only Max. In fact, the redhead pointedly informed you she’d ignore you if you called her anything else. But you caught the boy’s gaze just before he disappeared, returning his wave with your own raised hand and you mouthed a quick ‘thank you.’

He winked and then he was gone, swallowed up by campers, parents with bags of medication and inhalers, lists of allergies and yells of the yearly battle of who had the top bunk.

—————

The second week went as quickly as the first, the kids were happy to get to know you, each one nosy and inquisitive, challenging and entirely too entertaining. You spent the afternoons in one of the wooden cabins by the lake, sheltered from the heat of the sun and covered in paint and glitter, guiding the campers through crafting sessions and hoping Max didn’t glue anyone else’s hand to a table.

(Mike was still cursing a small chemical burn and Murray had insisted you could handle it, ‘cause the man admitted he was quite frankly, terrified of the young girl.)

Breakfasts were rushed in the mess hall, a noisy start to every morning but you got to say hi to Robin as she slid you extra strawberries in your yoghurt and Nancy always saved you a seat beside her and Jonathan. Every now and then lunches could be had in solace, a sandwich and a stolen carton of OJ eaten at the lake, the sun making the water glitter, toes dipped in the shallows.

You got your bearings quickly, six days in and able to navigate the forest easily enough, from the gym hall to the last of the kids' bunks. You got used to the noise of the tannoy each morning, the moss that grew on almost everything you touched, the ever present smell of chlorine, sunscreen and bug spray.

It was best at night, you found, when the kids were asleep - or at least pretending to be - when all the lanterns and torches were off, when the stars were the brightest thing around and you could find fireflies by the shoreline.

And then there was the walk back to your cabin after dinner was done and the benches were cleared, after you and Steve had taken your turn at hosting story time around the fire pit and Robin’s s’mores had been demolished.

Most of the kids were sent to their cabins for down time, to play cards, read books, share mixtapes and swap the candy they’d hoarded from home. Some went to Nancy for summer school classes, learning Spanish and Calculus to make up for failed grades.

Others went to the cabin near your own, a small wooden structure that leaked out sounds and songs, guitar and piano and sometimes drums - some pretty, some questionably out of tune. But if you timed it just right, you’d walk by as the last of the kids were leaving, guitars on their backs and drumsticks in their hands, leaving Eddie on the small porch, lit up by the lamp inside.

And this night, you’d strolled by in the evening heat, warmth still lingering in the air that smelled like cedar and leftover smoke, passing Dustin and his guitar on the pathway. The young boy stopped you with an excited grin, sheet music in his hand and he pointed out each new chord that he was able to play.

It was easy to get caught up in his joy, his pride and you gushed over Dustin as he did his guitar. But you couldn’t ignore the feeling of eyes on your back, a heat that didn’t come from summer that was still trapped in the night.

When you sent Dustin off after messing up his curls with an affectionate hand, you turned to find Eddie, just like you knew you would. He was leaning on the porch railing, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, an amber glow in the dark.

He wiggled his fingers at you in a wave, a smile hidden behind the smoke he breathed out. His curls were loose and wild, his staff shirt swapped out for a Metallica tee that was cut shorter across his stomach. More skin flashed between his top and his jeans and you couldn’t help the way your gaze faltered, looking down.

“Hey, new girl,” Eddie greeted and his voice was low and raspy from shouting intrusions at his students over the thrashing of bass drums and cymbals.

The air around you buzzed with cicadas and something else, something unknown but not unwanted, fizzed alongside it.

“Hey, city boy,” you called back and you felt admired from where you stood, Eddie a little above you on the porch, towering and broad and pretty. “Lessons over?”

Eddie grinned and stubbed out the cigarette against the wood, swinging himself around the post to come a little closer. He lingered by the door, hands shoved in his pockets. “Don’t have to be,” he smiled.

You told yourself it would be rude to not follow him, that friends could hang out and it didn’t matter that you thought he was too pretty for his own good. It didn’t matter that you liked his curls or his tattoos or the way he smiled at you each morning, it didn’t matter that you liked his silly teddy bear patch or the way he chased the younger kids around camp with a stupid ‘monster voice.’

It didn’t matter. No boys. That was your rule.

You could spend time with him, you could chat, hang out, maybe steal a smoke and listen to some music. You didn’t have to kiss him. You didn’t.

You didn’t.

The inside of the cabin was different from the larger one they held the main music workshop, the neat shelves of percussion instruments and chalkboard of music notes swapped for low light and a couple of chairs, a beanbag in the corner, a drum kit stacked by the door and some guitars and amps on an old paisley patterned rug.

It smelled like Eddie’s cologne, a little like smoke and rain, and there really, really wasn’t a lot of space. Eddie gestured to the chair across from him, sliding a tin out from underneath one of the amps stacked against a wall and he wiggled it at you.

“Can I interest you?”

You nodded with a grin, dropping down onto the chair and relishing in the way silence hugged the camp again. If you listened carefully enough, you could hear the lake lap at the shore, water against the moored kayaks and the whispers of the kids through open cabin windows. And then there was the flicker of a lighter, the sizzle of something burning and Eddie sighed, slow and soft.

“Long day?” you asked him, leaning in a little to take the joint he offered you and you tried really hard to not think about his lips when you place it between your own.

Eddie hummed, watching the way you took a drag, not as long and deep as his, but he smiled when you managed to blow the smoke to the ceiling without coughing. He was stretched out lazily on the chair that looked more suited to the kids than his lean frame and his spread knees almost knocked against your own.

“You could say that. Been chasin’ kids all day after Billy slept in and didn’t turn up for his hiking group and Hop’s been riding my ass about getting extra sign ups,” Eddie took the roll up back from you and smiled, looking at you from under his lashes in a way you’d become familiar with. “S’lookin’ up now, though.”

You tried to hold his gaze, you really tried. But those big, brown eyes still managed to pierce right into your soul and it made you dizzy, it made you feel too warm. You huffed out a shy laugh and ducked your chin, eyes on the floor just for a second - enough for you to try to collect yourself.

“Are you flirting with me, Munson?” you didn’t sound as bold as you wanted to, your words coming out softer, a little breathier.

But maybe it worked all the same, ‘cause Eddie had turned pink and was hiding behind his curls, joint forgotten about. He brought his fingers to his lips instead, rings glittering in the low light and he looked thoughtful, like he was deciding what to say.

“I’m trying,” he chuckled, “but honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You wanted to tell him it was working anyway, that he didn’t even need to try. ‘Cause it had been a week at Camp Upside Down, a week of knowing him and you were already too far gone on his charm and his hair and his smile and his teddy bear patch and--

“You remember my rule, right?” you said instead, trying to smile about it, like you weren’t cursing yourself and your ex for making you so opposed to even trying with another boy.

“Mmm,” Eddie hummed and nodded, bringing the half burned joint back to his lips so he could relight it. “You mean your ‘no boys, no fun, no summer fling’ rule?”

He grinned, smug.

“I never said I wasn’t going to have fun,” you protested. “I’m just-- planning on staying away from anything that can break my heart.”

The tone in the cabin shifted, the air in the small space becoming a little heavier but you didn’t feel suffocated. In fact, when Eddie stubbed out the joint in one of his empty coffee mugs and leaned onto his knees, you didn’t feel the need to do anything but move closer too. Your foot nudged his and one side of his mouth quirked up into a small smile, his eyes careful on you.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly.

You shrugged half heartedly and watched the way the lights of the camp slowly started to switch off, one by one, until you and Eddie were the only ones still bathed in warmth. “Not much to tell,” you murmured, “not without sounding like a cliche.”

Eddie’s knee nudged against your own, deliberate this time, and it made you look over at the boy. He was smiling, kind and so lovely.

“I don’t mind cliches, remember?”

So you sucked in a breath and told him about life in Port Austin, how there were only really a few parks, the lake and a farmers market to look forward to on Sundays. You spoke about your job at Murphy’s Bakery on West Spring Street, how you volunteered at the gallery on weekends because you loved paintings and watercolours and wanted to go to an art school when you could afford it. You dropped your voice and tried to keep your tone light when you told him about the boy that stole your heart when you were fourteen and how he promised you the world when you were eighteen.

You really wished you still had the joint when you huffed out a laugh that held no humour and whispered how you found him in bed with a girl you used to be friends with when you were nineteen.

And then there was another year and a half of your mom trying to make you stay with him because his parents ran the town committee and how were they supposed to show face when you made such a scene in their yard? And ‘didn’t you want to get married? Didn’t you want to settle down and have a family? Did you really want to have to start again? Is art school really a productive use of your time?’

Eddie, for the most part, stayed silent as you spoke, only frowning when necessary. And when you were done and your cheeks were a little damp and you sniffed without meaning to, the boy slid his foot along yours and held it there, the silence deafening. Night had finally set and the air smelled like oncoming rain and the remnants of smoke and Eddie Munson offered you his hand.

You wondered what it meant, you wondered what to do but when you looked at his face, his expression was soft and kind and open. You took it, palm sliding against his own and his skin was warm and rough, rings cold, fingers littered with guitar string calluses and they curled around you.

His hand was so much bigger than your own but when he gave it a squeeze, it was the most gentle thing you’d felt. You sucked in a breath and felt it stutter and hitch in your chest, gaze finding his in the low light and he smiled at you, a little sadder than before.

“I’m really sorry that happened,” he whispered.

It was nothing but sincere, the way he said it. Sweet and lovely and quiet, and god, you believed him. So you sniffed again, a little embarrassed and you wiped at your cheeks and eyes with your free hand - you didn’t dare take your other one from Eddie, not yet.

You didn’t bother with the usual responses, none of the ‘it’s not your fault’s’ or ‘it’s alright.’

“Thank you,” you said instead, just as softly as Eddie had spoke, your smile a little watery. “M’sorry… I really didn’t mean to blurt all that out. You didn’t have to listen to it.”

Eddie’s smile was soft and understanding, and it made you so ache. He was looking at you with those big, brown eyes, shining with kindness and he was bold enough to not look away when you stared back. In fact, it only made him grin wider.

So you had to be the one to break the moment, break the spell, gaze shifting to the wooden cabin floor and you let out a sigh that felt too loud for the space. You sniffed one last time and dabbed your fingers under your eyes, erasing any evidence of upset. You tapped a foot against Eddie’s converse, your toe touching the doodles he’d inked out along the sole.

“What about you?”

Eddie eyes you somewhat suspiciously, corners of his lips lifted in a shy smile and without the joint, he started to twist his rings around each finger. You tried not to watch, breath caught in your throat ‘cause his hands were big and wide, his fingers long andandand—

“What about me?” Eddie asked.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling, “we can’t all be hiding out in the middle of the forest ‘cause a guy broke our heart, right?” You blew out the breath you’d been holding and tried to act normal.

“How presumptuous of you, sweetheart,” Eddie’s grin was wicked and it made you flush, heat travelling from your cheeks to your neck. “But I guess you’re right, I’m just here for the money.” The boy swung a leg over the arm of his chair, slumping down low and he tipped his head back lazily, watching you from under his lashes. “And I s’pose the kids are alright.”

“You don’t wanna be hanging out in the city each summer?” You asked him, hoping you didn’t sound too nosy. The idea of a city as large as Philadelphia was foreign to you. “Aren’t you missing out on concerts and stuff?”

Eddie hummed and smiled at you in a way that made you feel shy, like he thought you were all kinds of cute. “And stuff, yeah,” Eddie agreed but then he was pulling at the ring on his thumb, a large skull and his brows furrowed. “It’s not as exciting as you’d think. It’s just my uncle and I - Wayne - we’re not exactly living the high life downtown, you know?”

You didn’t say anything, you just leaned in a little, silently coaxing the boy to keep speaking.

“My mum left when I was pretty young,” Eddie explained, “don’t remember her all that much, not really, sometimes it’s easier when I see a photo or something. She dropped me with Wayne and just… didn’t come back.”

Eddie sucked in a breath. “The dude that got her pregnant didn’t even hang around to see me being born, apparently,” he snorted but his laugh was humourless. “So he doesn’t get the title of dad.”

“That’s fair,” you replied quietly.

“We didn’t have much money when I was growing up,” the boy continued. “Still don’t, I guess. But I remember being, like eleven, and really wanting to go to summer camp. I was obsessed with the idea of climbing trees and learning new shit in the middle of nowhere.”

Eddie’s voice was lifting, gaining back that happy undertone and he was smiling again, a little shy, but it was there. His eyes glittered as he looked at you.

“Wayne couldn’t afford it but he would take me to the park and create these treasure hunts for me - hell, he taught me how to play guitar too, never yelled at me once and Christ, he should’ve, I used to annoy the shit out of that old man as soon as he got home from work.”

You laughed and Eddie beamed, eyes meeting in the brief silence and the summer air felt warmer than ever, the open door seemingly incapable of letting in what little breeze there was.

“So I guess I like it here,” Eddie admitted, “as much as I need the money too. I wanna help Wayne out, y’know? But it’s nice to be able to do it somewhere like this.” The boy gestured to the small room with its tower of amps and carpet of wires and sheet music like it was home.

You leaned onto your elbows, close enough to the boy that you could tap your fingertips to his knee, once, twice, a small smile on your face that reached your eyes and Eddie thought it was lovely, the way you looked at him like he had every ounce of your attention.

“I think that’s a really nice reason to be here,” you told him.

And god, Eddie wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you really, really badly - ‘cause your hair smelled good and your eyes were real pretty and he was damn sure you were looking at his lips the same way he was looking at yours. But he was so aware of the heartache you had just shared with him, your self appointed rule of ‘no boys,’ and Eddie Munson was very much a boy.

Maybe even more man than boy, you’d argue. And perhaps that was worse.

So instead he pulled back and your hand dropped from his knee and it was enough to make him miss you. Eddie looked at you thoughtfully, head tilted, smile shy and his cheeks were still tinged pink and all of it was awfully endearing. You cleared your throat, suddenly self conscious and Eddie stood.

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme walk you to your cabin.”

It was easy to say yes. It was even easier to walk close enough to Eddie that your shoulder bumped into his bicep, arms pressed together and hands painfully apart.

You whispered and laughed as you followed him through the forest, down the narrow trails that criss crossed through the camp like heartstrings. And when the ground got a little uneven and the night was too dark to see the roots that snuck out from the forest floor, Eddie’s hand cupped your elbow and everything about his touch was warm and rough and electrifying.

The camp was quiet and it seemed like the world was made just for the two of you, the lake sitting like glass on your right and the soft silence of the woods and the trees on your left.

He was pretty in the moonlight. Prettier when he stood at the bottom of your cabin steps with his hands behind his back as he smiled and said goodnight, like he couldn’t and wouldn’t trust himself to move closer to your door.

‘Cause standing outside on a porch in the dark with a pretty boy surely led to a goodnight kiss, didn’t it?

Didn’t it?

And just before you closed your door, on the moon and the forest and the boy, Eddie called out to you by your name and hid his grin behind his curls, rings glittering in the low light.

“Happy first week at camp, sweetheart,” he told you softly, sweetly and you grinned in return. “M’happy to have you as a friend.”

Your heart stuttered and dipped at his words, a pretty warmth spreading over your chest and cheeks and you were ready to reply in like. And then:

“Just don’t, y’know, yell at me when you do fall in love with me.”

You barked out a laugh and hid your grin behind your door, too big and too wide to let him see, because goddamn it, he was getting to you too easily.

“I’ll be sure to keep the yelling to a minimum,” you told him, voice mild and too casual.

Eddie shrugged, still smiling lazily, “it’s inevitable.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, the rejection softened by the way you grinned too, eyes fond and stuck on him. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

—————

“She makes me—” Eddie let out a strangled noise that ended in a sigh and Steve frowned. “I feel— fuck.”

“Use your big boy words, Eds,” Steve commented mildly and from behind him, lying on the boy’s bed, Hawkins flipped a page of her magazine and snorted.

Eddie has scrambled back to his cabin after standing before your closed door for a few seconds too long, eyes fond, his smile dopey and his heart beating a little too fast.

And it was like the forest knew how he felt ‘cause the insects buzzed a little louder and there was something in the air that made it feel like a storm was on its way. He found Steve at the desk they shared, headphones around his neck and music playing quietly through static. His girlfriend was on his bed, flat on her stomach and too busy with her reading to really look up at Eddie, but she seemed thoroughly amused by the whole situation.

“You know that song? The cheesy one? The one that’s like ‘I can’t fight this feeling anymore?’ That one?”

Steve blinked, staring at Eddie for a second before he smothered a smile with his hand. He coughed, hiding a laugh. “REO Speedwagon?”

Eddie threw himself onto his bunk and whined, dragging his palms over his face. “Yes,” he replied mournfully. “Every time I see her it’s like that song plays and the wind picks up and everything is in slow motion.”

“Does she suddenly have wings too?” Steve countered.

“Fuck you.”

Hawkins laughed again and instead of flipping another page, she groaned and stretched out, moving lazily to the desk chair that Steve occupied, throwing herself down onto her boyfriend’s lap.

“Have I missed something or is there a reason you’re not asking her to hang out?” The girl was staring at Eddie earnestly, one of her hands buried in the hair at Steve’s neck.

“We do hang out,” Eddie protested. “We just did.”

Hawkins rolled her eyes at the same time Steve did and Eddie wondered if being in love with someone made you as annoying as them.

“Like an actual date, Munson.” She shrugged and gave him a smile that told Eddie she knew she was being annoying. “Some people brush their hair for it, maybe wear jeans without holes in the knees.”

Eddie huffed and let himself roll across his bed, face squished to his pillows to muffle his low groan of despair. For good measure, he kicked his feet against the mattress too. Finally, he resurfaced, cheeks pink and a little downturned and he said to his friends a little mournfully:

“She doesn’t date. Or, I guess, she doesn’t want to date.”

Steve looked perplexed. “Why?”

Eddie heaved himself up and sat against the wooden headboard, kicking his sneakers off until they thudded to the floor. “Uh, there was a shitty ex,” he explained. “Which I totally get… I just wish— I don’t know.”

Hawkins threw a pen at him, soft enough that it barely bounced off of his thigh but Eddie still sent her a look of offence.

“Ow.”

“Shut up,” the girl huffed. “You better not be pestering her, Eds, if she said she’s not interested—”

“I’m not!” Eddie defended himself. “I’m not. I just like to remind her that she’ll eventually fall in love with me. Eventually.”

Steve choked on a laugh and tried to cover it when his girlfriend frowned at him.

“Eddie!”

“What?” The boy answered petulantly. “I’m not serious about it,” Eddie lied, “I’m being, like, totally cute, s’fine.”

His two friends levelled him with a stare.

“And besides! I like hanging out with her. She’s cool. And pretty and funny and she— it’s fine,” he repeated, almost to himself. “We’re just friends.”

Despite the conviction Eddie said it with, neither of the three people in the cabin believed him.

I’d love you to love me.

The third week brought a split lip, a sprained wrist and thunderstorm that lasted two days

The kids were more than antsy with having to spend most of their time indoors as the rain flooded the camp grounds, the banks of the lake tested as the water kept rising and the winds shook the trees. Leaves lived permanently in the air, whirling on the harsh gales, branches scratching at cabin windows like the soundtrack of a bad scary movie.

So some activities doubled up, with more than the normal amount of campers crammed into cabin classrooms instead of being out on the lake or taking hikes into the mountains.

It’s why you and Nancy were nearing your limit with over forty kids inside the arts centre, the summer air still humid enough to make the room sticky and heavy, to make everyone cranky and uncomfortable. The rain of the metal roof was a musical reminder of how there was no chance of escape.

There were wars over glue sticks, more paint on the floor than on any paper and half way through the activity block, Argyle squelched in with another fifteen kids, all soaking wet and clutching wooden bird boxes in various stages of completion.

“Cabin four is leaking, my dudes,” he explained with a smile.

And that’s how Max tripped over Will’s bird feeder, how she slipped on some spilled watercolours and went careening into a kid named Josie. Josie had wire framed glasses that were entirely too big for her tiny head and Max’s lip got caught and split on the corner of them.

With blood dripping down her chin and a smattering of colours on her bare knees and jean shorts, she looked a little startled, eyes wide at the red that came away when she wiped her fingers over her mouth.

But Mike Wheeler was fourteen years old and a boy, which meant that Mike didn’t really know how to act in public yet and when he laughed at Max, the girl responded by shoving him into a shelf full of paint cans and pots of glitter.

So the classroom was in chaos, Will was mourning his broken bird feeder, Max was bleeding and enraged and Mike was clutching his wrist that he claimed was broken all while pink and lilac glitter poured from his hair.

When the tannoy rang out at one o’clock, you sighed in relief and watched as the kids ran out the door towards the mess hall, the smell of pizza pockets and macaroni and cheese making the campers scamper happily through mud filled puddles and towards the large building.

Argyle wandered out after them, slow and lazily, like the rain that still poured didn’t really bother him and he didn’t seem to care that much when Dustin jumped into a puddle at his side and splashed mud up his slacks.

You and Nancy worked diligently to clean up the mess left behind, crawling under tables to retrieve forgotten paint brushes and pens that were missing lids. But you’d barely managed to make a dent in the chaos before Hopper’s voice crackled through the tannoy system.

“Can Hawkins report to the office, please,” the gruff voice was muffled between static. “—hit, Hawkins one, the good one, the first one… Nancy. Can Nancy report to the office.”

The girl rolled her eyes as she stood but there was a fondness there that told you she didn’t really mind, years of working for Hopper making her more than familiar with his bad habit with remembering names.

“Pretty sure he wants to go over next week's schedule,” Nancy told you, brushing glitter from her knees. “I’ll be as quick as I can, okay? Sorry to leave you with all of this.”

The girl did look regretful, brows pinched as she gestured to the mess around the room that only seemed to grow as more paint leaked out from tipped over pots.

You shook your head and smiled, “it’s fine, don’t worry. I’m alright on my own, mess hall duty can't be that much tidier, right?”

Nancy snorted a quiet laugh and hummed in agreement, “put it this way, lunch time clean up is usually reserved for punishments.”

“Poor kids,” you mused, crawling over to scoop up a fallen bucket of stickers and felt sheets.

“Oh, not the kids,” Nancy smiled wryly. “Just ask Steve or Hawkins, I’m sure they’d love to tell you.”

Leaving you confused, the girl left, clipboard in hand and you watched out of the rain streaked window as she ran across camp, daintily avoiding the muddy puddles that were already getting larger as the storm rolled on. So you stayed on the floor, bare knees a little cold on the old linoleum and you were swearing softly at a bright blue patch of paint that didn’t seem to want to budge.

You didn’t hear the door open again, not over the sound of the rain hammering down on the roof. In fact, you didn’t hear anything until someone let out a low whistle and started to speak.

“Unless one of the little demons suddenly got real talented, you weren’t kidding about art school, huh?”

You narrowly missed bumping your head on the table edge as you shot up at the sound of Eddie’s voice, heart hammering and stomach flipping in that way you were still trying to ignore.

The boy was perched against the edge of one of the small tables, legs crossed at the ankles and a too big sweater swallowing him whole. He looked cosy, the cotton a deep maroon and it had the camp logo on the chest, a small tear at the collar and leftover spots of rain over the shoulders. Eddie held up a notepad that you thought you’d placed face down, but he was showing you your own drawings.

“Architecture,” Eddie was scanning over the sketches of buildings and parkways, tiny trees inked out in black, dotted with what little green paint you could sneak from the kids. “I didn’t expect that.”

You blinked at him, still kneeling on the floor with glitter on your palms, paint on your knees. You lifted a hand and brushed back your hair, blowing out a breath with how flustered you suddenly felt. The large cabin felt warmer than ever and the rain only seemed to get louder.

It felt like the forest belonged to only the two of you.

“Uh, yeah.” You nodded awkwardly, feeling shyer than you expected at the sight of your work in Eddie’s hands. It was hardly a portfolio, just a few quick sketches you were able to manage between squabbles over paintbrushes and stolen pens, but it was something. “Most people don’t.”

“You’re good,” Eddie replied and his voice was the most serious you’d heard it. But he was still smiling, corners of his mouth lifted as he scanned over the paper, pinky finger tracing the outline of a building that had wild ivy growing up the brick. “Really good. So, art school, huh?”

You nodded and clambered to your feet as gracefully as you could, leaning against the table across from the boy. If you stretched out your legs enough, the toes of your sneakers almost touched his boots.

“That’s the plan,” you said and gestured to the camp in all its messy glory, mud and rain and paint and glitter. “I’m hoping this place can get me enough cash to even consider it.”

Eddie placed the book back on the desk with the same care you’d watched him handle his guitars with and the sight of it made your chest ache.

“Which one?”

The question made your brow furrow, ‘cause so many other people in your life had asked the same question - albeit with a lot more exasperation and condescension than Eddie had. But you gave him the same answer you’d given your parents and your senior year guidance counsellor and shit, even your ex.

You have a half shrug, eyes to the floor and picked at a fingernail. “I don’t really know yet.” You looked up at the boy and found him looking right back at you, brown eyes soft and warm. “To be confirmed.”

Eddie nodded slowly, pushing off the table and shoving his hands into the pocket on the front of his sweater. He stretched it down over his hips, grinned at you playfully and the mood inside the cabin lifted considerably, like he’d meant it to.

“You know,” he mused, “there’s a great art school in Philly. One of the best, in fact.” Eddie raised his brows at you suggestively, all whilst doing his best to play coy - you weren’t sure how he managed it, but he pulled it off.

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes at him in a way that now seemed to be routine. “Is that right?” You asked him, putting on the same overly casual voice he had. “How strange, isn’t that where you live?”

Eddie gasped, ripping a hand from his pocket to grab at his chest instead, damp curls bouncing as he took another step towards you. “Holy shit, you’re right, I do live there.”

You were grinning, not that you had any control over it and Eddie was beaming right back, moving so he could stand in front of you, finally toe to toe. He kicked softly at your sneaker, looking at you fondly from under his lashes.

“What a coincidence,” he murmured softly.

“You’re flirting with me again,” you replied just as quietly and you tried to sound admonishing but your words came out just a little too breathily.

He was too close.

You watched him lick at him bottom lip, tongue peeking out for just a half second but it kept your heart ticking on a too fast beat for much, much longer.

“If I was flirting,” Eddie started to say, speaking slowly, voice a drawl, as if he were picking his words carefully. “I’d tell you about this nice little spot round the corner from mine. How I’d take you there between classes, split a cheese steak and let you show me all your badass work.”

You were entranced, eyes bush tracing the shapes his lips made as he spoke, the dimple that came and went on his left cheek when he tried not to smile between words.

“You’d graduate in the summer…” the boy mused and his voice picked up a little, lips stretching out into that wide smile you’d come to love. “We could totally have a fall wedding. I was thinking about early October?”

The spell was broken and you barked out a laugh, a hand shoving at the boy’s shoulder and Eddie grinned at the sound, letting you tip him backwards before he caught himself and acted wounded.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson,” you told him but there was affection laced behind the jab and Eddie could hear it, his chest swelling at the sound.

“But autumn tones suit me so well,” he quipped back and he laughed when you shook your head and moved past him, hiding your amusement by picking up ripped paper that hadn’t quite made it to the trash.

“What a shame, I think I’m a spring,” you sighed dramatically and you didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know the boy was grinning. You could feel it, it lit up the room, it made you feel warm. “Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Eddie snorted and pushed himself back onto the table, narrowly avoiding a wet splat of blue paint. “Well, if you won’t come to Philadelphia, how about Chrissy’s cabin tonight? Staff get together.” Eddie enticed, legs swinging. “More shit beer, Steve’s awful taste in music and probably some weed if Jonathan and Argyle manage to get into town after dinner.”

“More shit beer?” You repeated, gasping dramatically as you made your way back over to him. You tapped at his boot with your shoe, like you weren’t able to help yourself from reaching out to touch him in some way. “How shitty?”

“Like, the shittiest beer you’ve ever had,” Eddie replied, “very room temp, some would say warm. Definitely flat and the label probably has some questionable tagline on it.”

You were smiling and so was the boy, too warm and too close and Jesus Christ, had you been moving forward? Eddie’s boots brushed your shins and if you took another step, you’d be between his legs that he had most definitely spread for you.

“How could I say no to that?”

Eddie shrugged, his smile all coy, cheeks a little pink and he was looking at your lips when he replied softly, “how could you say no to me?”

Your lips parted, breath caught in your chest and god, did he hear the way it hitched? Could he hear the way your heart rattled against your rib cage? Surely he could, it felt louder than the storm.

He didn’t let you reply, not that you knew what to say, not that you could seriously articulate words. Eddie was still smiling, looking as flustered as you felt, like he hadn't meant to flirt, like he didn’t know what to do now that he had.

Eddie gestured to your cheek, unsure, pulling back just before he touched you. His gaze was settled on the curve of your top lip and he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You have, uh, some paint,” he murmured, “little dot… just there.”

You wiped at your cheek with the back of your hand, suddenly self conscious, wondering what kid managed to splatter you with god knows what colour. You caught your lip, bringing your hand back still clean and you looked at Eddie.

The boy still looked so unsure, a different kind of shy, but he tilted his chin and said, “c’mere.”

You weren’t sure how you heard him over the rain, the roll of thunder, the way the world outside seemed to roar for you both, like the forest was excited, waiting, watching.

You moved, hips bumping into Eddie’s knees as he coaxed you forward, a cautious hand on your chin, holding you still so his thumb could smooth over the spot of paint, the pad of it grazing your top lip.

Eddie’s touch was slow and soft, careful with it, his eyes lowered as he watched what he was doing and you were almost sure he was holding his breath.

You were.

“Got it,” Eddie whispered but his hand was still on your cheek, thumb resting on your chin and he was staring at your lips again, eyes hooded and a dark honey.

You made a quiet noise, maybe an agreement, maybe a thanks, maybe you were just disappointed, but neither of you moved away. Your own hands rested on Eddie’s knees, soft, worn denim under your palms and Eddie murmured your name like a question, head tilting forward—

The door bounced against the wall as it opened, the wind blowing rain and some stray twigs inside, causing you to stumble backwards, your eyes as wide as Eddie’s.

Murray was standing in the doorway, dripping wet from the rain, glasses smeared with water and he sighed, disgruntled. He flicked his arms out from his body, rain splattering to the cabin floor as he inspected both of you with suspicion.

Nose wrinkled, he appraised you from over his thick glasses: Eddie’s pink cheeks, the way you couldn’t look at anything but the floor.

“No,” the older man barked out, indignant. “No, I’m not doing this shit again, for Christ’s sake.”

Murray turned, leaving the way he came with no explanation to his appearance in the first place. He wrestled with the door handle, the old wood sticking in its frame and he cursed. “You’re all rampant. Goddamn kids and - Christ, this door - and their hormones, it’s like living with animals.”

The door finally shifted and slammed, shutting out Murray and the storm, the only evidence he’d been there was a puddle on the floor and some leaves that had blown in, sticking to the streaks of spilled paint.

Eddie looked at you, heart still thudding in his chest, only to see you busy tidying once again, head ducked down so he couldn’t meet your gaze.

Whatever had been going to happen, was over.

—————

Unfortunately, Jason Carver was the one to open the door to Chrissy’s cabin. You hadn’t seen much of the blonde boy around camp - not that you had minded - as he spent most of his shifts at the lake and preferred to disappear into town at night with Billy.

But he held the door as you and Robin walked in, arms full of the leftover pizza slices the other girl had managed to sneak from the kitchen as she finished dinner service.

“New girl,” he greeted, taking the time to rake his eyes over your frame instead of helping with the Tupperware. “Buckley. Still not like dick?”

“Go fuck yourself, Carver,” Robin shot back, rolling her eyes and ushering you into the room, dumping the food onto Chrissy’s desk. She grabbed two beers from the obnoxiously large stash, passing them both to Steve to open with the car keys he fished from his pocket.

“Shame,” Jason called back over the low music, ignoring the way Chrissy swatted at him, cheeks pink with embarrassment as she tried to get him to stop. “You and your friend could’a kept me company later.” His beady eyes settled on you, mouth curled into a smirk. “Gets cold at night, doesn’t it?”

Steve coaxed the beer back into your hand, one arm thrown around his girlfriend’s shoulders and he shook his head at you, grimacing. “Ignore him, he’s swallowed too much lake water or some shit.”

Robin took a swig of her own drink and smirked, nudging a friendly hand to Steve’s shoulder as she said, “we’re ignoring assholes now, huh, Harrington?”

There was a private joke, a hidden story you didn’t know there, and Hawkins grinned too, covering her smile with her cup.

“His fighting days are over,” she declared, pushing a hand to the boy’s cheeks with such affection that it made you feel like you shouldn’t look.

Steve scoffed, all false bravado. “Says who?”

His girlfriend smirked and squeezed at his chin a little firmer, just until his lips fell into a pout and she was able to tug him down to her for a kiss. “Me,” she told him as she pulled away and Steve just grinned, no argument left in him.

“Are we talkin’ about how whipped Stevie is?” Eddie appeared at your side, a beer already in hand as he grinned and dodged the other boy’s fist, snorting when it skimmed his shoulder.

You tried not to react when his arm brushed your own, when everything suddenly smelled like smoke and rainwater and Eddie. He hadn’t looked at you, in fact, he was actively trying not to, his curls hiding his eyes and when you turned to him just slightly, he ducked his head and took a long pull from his drink.

“Always,” Robin replied, matter of factly and she grinned at you as if to include you in these plans. “Where have you been, anyway?”

Eddie took another swig from his beer, gulping down the amber liquid almost too enthusiastically for how shit it did actually taste. He was stalling.

“Uh, private lesson,” he explained grimacing. He still wasn’t looking at you. “Ran a little over.”

It was a lie, it was a huge lie - you knew it - and the truth made your face burn. ‘Cause Eddie had stood frozen after Murray had left, watching you carefully from where he was still by the table, chest hammering.

He’d been so sure you’d almost kissed him. He was almost positive you had been leaning into him the same way he tilted his chin down to you. But the door had slammed, Murray had yelled and left and the silence that had taken over was more deafening than the rain on the roof.

So Eddie had coughed a little awkwardly and waited for you to stop cleaning up the mashed glue stick from the carpet and look at him. You’d stopped, sure. You’d even stood up from where you’d been kneeling but you didn’t quite meet the boy’s eye. And when he asked you:

“What just happened?”

You had toed at a forgotten pencil case and shrugged, your hands in the pockets of your shorts and replied, “nothing just happened, Eddie.”

And even though you still didn’t lift your gaze from the floor, Eddie had nodded, lips downturned and eyes sad, before he muttered something that sounded like ‘sure’ and left.

You’d watched him walk away from the camp, away from the direction of the music workshop and the canon where he held his lessons. In fact, despite the rain, he walked towards the lake, his hood pulled up over his head and his hands shoved in his pockets, the maroon fabric turning darker and darker the further he got from you.

And now he was standing next to you in the small circle you and his friends had created and he was trying so hard to pretend he couldn’t feel your bare arm pressed against his own, that he couldn’t smell the perfume he knew was yours.

He took another gulp of his beer, lukewarm and bordering on sour and he could sense your gaze on him. He caught Steve’s eye instead and his friend quirked a brow, gaze searching between him and you, questioning.

Eddie shook his head, an almost barely noticeable movement but you lifted your beer to your lips, making your arm brush Eddie’s and the boy went pink.

Steve started humming the opening bars of REO Speedwagon.

Eddie glared.

But then Billy was pushing into the small circle, all blonde curls and sharp, blue eyes, his smile even sharper. He clapped Eddie on the shoulder and wrapped an unfamiliar arm around yours, squeezing you into his side. Across from you, Steve and Hawkins scowled, busying themself with grabbing some cold pizza slices.

“Truth or dare,” Billy announced and he smelled like smoke and whisky, a far cry from the cheap beer everyone else had been left with. “C’mon assholes, look alive.”

Eddie shrugged the boy off and took another beer that Steve offered, eyes hard and staring at the floor as Billy kept his arm around you. You were too polite to move away, too conscious of all the eyes that were on you but you huffed out a laugh and asked:

“Truth or dare? Isn’t that kinda childish?”

Chrissy’s cabin was cast in little light, only a few lamps emitting a low, too warm glow and Billy looked positively dangerous in the shadows as he grinned at you. He tutted and moved to sweep a stray lock of hair away from your face, acting sweet for you.

“Not the way I play it, darlin’,” he grinned, all teeth and bad intentions and from beside you, Robin pretended to gag.

“Gross,” she muttered.

“Revolting,” Hawkins agreed and when Billy scoffed at her, she flipped him the bird and leant against Steve, her back to his chest.

“That’s a little mean of you, isn’t it, princess?” Billy pouted at her, “considering I’m the damn reason you two are together.” He pointed a finger at the girl and Steve, looking smug.

The rest of the room groaned, as if Billy taking credit for this was a regular occurrence.

Again, you felt like you were missing out on a joke that you weren’t privy to, an inside story from a summer that wasn’t yours. So you turned to Billy and raised a brow, questioning.

“What?” You asked, just as Steve pinned Billy with a stare and said:

“Don’t call her princess.”

But Billy ignored him and kept his arm around you, grinning wider than ever and he leaned in just a little, enough for you to smell his cologne and the nicotine that stuck to his lips.

His voice was all flirt, a soft drawl that made Eddie's nostrils flare. “Haven’t you heard?” Billy asked and he looked at you like he wanted to sneak a bite, like he wanted to know what you tasted like. “I’m practically Cupid.”

The rest of the group snorted and scoffed, all varying sounds of derision but Billy ignored them and just kept smiling, looking too handsome for his reputation, all the stories you’d been told about him.

“Got your eye on someone, Sugar? I can shoot an arrow or two, see if it sticks,” he winked and god, you didn’t mean it, you couldn’t help it.

Your gaze flickered to Eddie and fucking hell, he was finally looking back at you too. Billy’s grin turned bigger, wider, sharper. Neon signs flashed in your head and you swore you could hear your mothers voice. Danger! Warning! Retreat!

“Well ain’t that interesting,” he smirked, finally letting go of you. He stole your beer instead, wrapped his lips around the neck and drained the rest, smirking and wiping at his mouth when Steve muttered something that sounded like, ‘fuckin’ prick.’

“You sweet on the new girl, huh, Munson?” Billy was outright sneering now, turning to Eddie to poke and prod until he broke.

“Get fucked, Hargrove,” Eddie replied lazily, his voice a soft drawl as he leaned against Chrissy’s desk but you could see the way his eyes narrowed, the way his shoulders were set.

Everyone in the cabin was silent now, eyes on Eddie and Billy as the blonde boy took a step forward and smiled, baring his teeth in a way that could only be taken as a challenge. Your skin prickled.

“Truth or dare, Teddy bear?” Billy whispered.

“I’m not playing,” Eddie grunted back.

“Ooh, forfeit,” Jason laughed from the door, “toilet block duty for a week, Munson, better tie your hair up.”

But neither boy listened, both Eddie and Billy still squaring up to each other, eyes narrowed and jaws set. You looked at Steve, silently asking him to do something but Steve seemed to be waiting for the exact time he needed to jump in.

“Hey now,” Billy murmured to Eddie, all soft condescension and false friendliness. He looked back at you and licked across his bottom lip, glittering eyes giving away his true intentions. “If you don’t wanna play, I’m sure someone else will happily give her a little bit of attention.”

“Grow the fuck up, Billy,” Robin snapped and her hand slid over your wrist, guiding you towards the door. “Let’s just hang out in my cabin,” she told you softly.

“Aw, c’mon!” Billy jeered, holding his arms out like he was surrendering. The majority of the room shook their heads at him, not ready to entertain his antics. “I’m Cupid, remember? Y’gotta trust the process.”

The music stuttered and the tape got stuck, the last few notes of whatever Blondie song fizzing with static before it stopped, just as Eddie slammed down his beer and shouldered past Billy. He walked straight towards you, his eyes on yours for what seemed like only the second time that night.

You saw something wild in them, something new and something different. You realised then that Eddie Munson didn’t do well with being challenged, and with the way Billy was still smirking behind him, it seemed like he knew that too.

So the thudthudthud of Eddie’s boots on the cabin floor matched your heart beat and Robin let go of your wrist as the boy approached. He’d taken his sweater off from earlier but he still smelled like the storm, like leftover rain and pine from the forest, like a burnt out campfire, a little like a new home.

The toes of his boots touched your sneakers and you had to tilt your chin up a little to meet his gaze. He looked torn, kind of panicked, pretty in the way he always did but he’d lost the softness that he’d gazed at you with earlier, with paint on your face and glitter pressed to your palms.

You thought he was going to kiss you.

His eyes dropped to your lips and nobody spoke, but you heard Billy let out a huff of laughter, a dark chuckle that made your stomach dip and you weren’t supposed to let this happen, even if it was just a stupid game, ‘cause fuck — Eddie was never going to be a hangover and a bad decision you’d try to forget the next day.

He was standing too close.

You steeled yourself, wondering if you’d be mad if he kissed you like this. If he kissed you at all. Would you be more angry if he didn’t? This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

You felt yourself closing your eyes, lashes soft on your cheeks, just for a second.

And then he was gone.

—————

Eddie was sitting outside of his cabin.

The party was long over and you’d stayed behind with Robin to help Chrissy tidy up, keeping your head down as Billy swept past, a leftover beer in his hand and a satisfied smirk on his lips as he got into a car with Jason.

And when you walked through the forest, hearing the whispers of the kids in the cabins as you passed, you noticed a tiny light on the porch steps, the orange red dot of the end of a cigarette in the dark. Eddie stood when you approached, stubbed the end of the smoke out on the railing and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Nerves rolled off of him in waves and he took a step forward, old leaves and pine cones crunching under his boots. You shook your head and kept walking, the light from your own cabin a warm glow only a few dozen feet away.

“Hey, hey, listen,” Eddie coaxed softly, “can we talk?”

“I’m tired, Eddie,” you began, still taking slow steps towards your own home.

(And embarrassed and confused and frustrated, but you didn’t say that.)

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” But then you made the mistake of stopping and looking back at the boy and he was all soft curls and softer eyes, sad and glittering.

He caught your wrist, a gentle hand with careful fingers and his touch was warmer than the night. You looked down, watched his thumb rub at the back of your palm and suddenly you weren’t as sleepy as before.

Maybe Eddie could sense the sway in you, maybe he was already a little too in tune with the way your body leaned into his. His hand slipped down, fingers skimming over your own and he wasn’t quite holding your hand but it felt just as nice, just as lovely. Eddie pinched your thumb between two of his fingers, looked up at you through his lashes and smiled, too sweet.

“Can we talk?” Eddie tried again. “Please?”

So you nodded because it was getting harder and harder to say no to the boy, to keep away from the boy - and you knew deep down that you were more angry at yourself than at him. ‘Cause you kept breaking your own rules and you knew fine well that you would’ve let Eddie kiss you. And to be mad at him for doing exactly what you asked him to - to be friends - wasn’t fair in the slightest.

But he was smiling now, soft and lovely, too sweet to seem real and his hand moved to cover your own and it left you wondering for the hundredth time: would it really be that awful to break some rules?

Eddie led you away from the cabins, hand in yours, fingers tangled in a way that made your skin feel too warm and you were both tripping through the trees in the dark until Hop’s office lights lit up the ground and you could see Eddie’s van parked a just away from the edge of the clearing.

He fished out his keys from his pocket, wiggled them in the air and quirked his brows. His hand was still in yours and you wondered if he could feel your heartbeat through your fingertips, if you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you.

Earnest, hopeful, with too much fondness.

“Wanna get out of here?” Eddie asked quietly.

You chanced a look at the cabin behind you, the warm glow from the window letting you both know that Hopper was still up, maybe even Murray and Joyce.

“Are we allowed?”

Eddie smiled, a soft grin that made your stomach flip ‘cause it was full of nothing good, all mischief and trouble. The night seemed so much warmer, like it was filled with more than just summer, more than the linger heat of the sun. You wondered if it was possible for another person to make you feel like this, like teenagers at your high school locker, nerves like the anticipation of a first kiss behind an oak tree, a passed note that you kept in your drawer for years and years and years.

He shrugged, too nonchalant. “No,” came the reply.

You bit your lip to try and hide the grin you gave back, unprepared for the feeling of complete and utter excitement that clawed at your stomach at his words. Eddie’s hand tightened around yours.

“Okay,” you whispered back.

It felt like a daydream when Eddie helped you clamber into the front of the van, the inside still stuffy and warm from the afternoon spent sitting in the sun and it smelled like him. Like coffee and rain and smoke and spice, and you grinned at the mess on the floor. An old sweater, the lanyard that was stitched with the camp's logo that only Nancy wore, wrapped around the stick shift. There was an open box of guitar picks on the console, a couple empty cans of soda, sheet music with footprints on it, one drumstick, too many cassette tapes - none in their cases - to count.

But every inch of the space screamed EddieEddieEddie and it consumed you. You didn’t hesitate to shuffle over to the middle of the bench when the boy sat behind the wheel, close enough that your thigh almost touched his.

You shouldn’t have.

You didn’t need to.

You couldn’t help yourself.

He rolled the windows down as he pulled out of the car park, the headlights off until he reached the main road and neither of you heard Hopper’s truck screeching after you.

Despite the late hour, there was still a pink tint to the sky, barely there and only making the horizon glow, a leftover streak of colour from where the sun had sunk. The rest of the night was dark, inky black and littered with stars and when the van picked up speed, warm air funnelled through the front of the cab and it picked at you and Eddie’s hair.

You didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t ask. God, you found that you didn’t really care.

So you let the wind cool down your sun warmed skin and you smiled when Eddie hit the button for the radio, a song coming on soft and low, an acoustic guitar and lyrics that were much sweeter than you expected. Neither of you said much, but Eddie tapped out a beat on the steering wheel and your gaze went between his profile and the trees that blurred at the side of the road.

You drove until the wilderness became a little more tamed, until the darkness fed into streetlights and the roads got a little bigger. Toy sized towns sprung up from the forests, gas stations with two pumps, sleepy sidewalks and neon signs that flickered in the night.

Eddie pulled up to a diner, one with wrap-around windows and red, leather booths, an aquamarine sign that flashed ‘OPEN 24/7.’ It was easy to follow him into the building, to get swallowed up by the smell of fries and coffee. The floors were a little sticky and the waitresses looked tired, the three other diners barely glancing back at you both as the bell above the door signalled your arrival.

The boy ordered two milkshakes, one chocolate and one strawberry and he batted away your hand as you tried to push some dollar bills into his. There was a smile on his face as he did it, soft lips and soft curls and even softer eyes, and he gave no explanation as he took the large cups from over the counter and headed back outside.

“You not letting me pay seems an awful lot like a date, Eddie,” you called out across the parking lot.

He barely looked back at you as he headed to the van, a soft laugh caught in his throat as stood in front of the driver’s side door and grinned. When he did turn to face you, he looked like trouble, holding up the two shakes as he nodded down to his waist.

“Grab the keys for me, sweetheart?”

It sounded like another dare.

You could’ve taken a milkshake from him. You really could’ve. In fact, all common sense told you that that’s exactly what you should’ve done. But you took a step forward and then another and another, toe to toe with the boy until you were both bathed under the aquamarine light, Eddie’s cheeks shades of pink and blue.

Maybe he didn’t think you’d do it. Maybe he was only joking.

But he held his breath and you could feel the air change when you curled your fingers around his jeans pocket, tugging a little cause the denim was too tight and Christ, you could feel the expanse of his thigh underneath when you fished for the car keys, the metal jingling in the quiet. He stared at you the entire time, sugar and strawberries filling the air and you gazed right back, chin lifted up to meet his eyes almost defiantly.

You weren’t sure what you were trying to prove, but you were pretty sure it was the opposite of what you were supposed to be doing.

The lock clicked and you didn’t look at Eddie as you walked to the other side, climbing back into the van that suddenly felt so much smaller than before. You kept your back to the passenger door this time, further away from the boy who was looking at you like he was scared you might take up cross country in order to get back to camp.

He offered you both shakes, smiling and nodding when you took the strawberry with a quiet thank you. You both drank in silence for a minute or two, the parking lot emptying of what little vehicles remained and when the clock on the dash hit two, you and Eddie were alone.

“Are you mad at me?” Eddie eventually asked, soft and a little apprehensive, looking over at you with worry in his eyes. “For not kissing you?”

Your breath shook as you let it out.

“I mean, I didn’t know if— ‘cause you don’t want to kiss me, right? Or anybody, really, I s’pose— you have your rule and I totally get it but you seem like you’re mad at me and—”

“Eddie,” you tried to shush the boy, but your voice was too soft and too small and Eddie kept rambling.

“—and maybe I’m crazy but in the cabin when it was raining… it seemed like you wanted to kiss me then too, but shit, maybe I’m just being optimistic, ‘cause I know you don’t wanna get involved in anything and I respect that and I’m happy to be your friend- so happy - but I don’t know what I was supposed to do—”

“Eddie.” You’d moved suddenly enough to surprise him, his words falling short as you shuffled to the middle of the bench, sitting on your knees as you gazed at him imploringly.

You smiled around a sigh, a soft, sad noise that made Eddie’s lips turn down and you were gentle when you took his half empty cup from him, sitting it on the dash along with yours.

“I’m not mad at you,” you explained when you turned back to him, your fingers pulling at a thread on the hem of your shirt, stomach tumbling at the thought of telling Eddie too much. “I’m pissed at myself, actually.”

Eddie’s brows shot up and a boyish confusion took over his features. He shook his head softly at you, as if to explain he didn’t understand. But he sat quietly, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m annoyed ‘cause I think I did want you to kiss me,” you closed your eyes briefly at your admission, not wanting to see the way hope flashed across the boy’s face. “And I shouldn’t want that ‘cause I told you I wasn’t getting involved with anyone and that’s not fair to you.”

You sighed again and it sounded even sadder, a huff of breath that hitched in the middle but you kept going, the cadence of your voice pitching higher as you rambled, the same way the boy had.

“It’s so entirely unfair and I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of bitch who’s leading you on, ‘cause I’m not! Or at least, I don’t mean to be - fuck - and I’m sorry if I am and I don’t want this to be confusing or complicated or, or, shit I don’t know.” You took a pause to breathe, blinking at Eddie who just stared back, eyes too pretty to look away from this time round.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” you said sullenly, as if meeting the boy before you was the worst thing in the world. Maybe it was. “And I’m sorry ‘cause I’m being real selfish, ‘cause I don’t wanna stay away from you and I like it when you call me nice things and when you meet me for breakfast and I think about ki—”

You broke off again and squeezed your eyes shut tight, like that would keep your secrets in too. And when that didn’t seem to work, you groaned and brought your hands to your face, fingertips still cold from holding your shake and you pressed them meanly over your lashes.

“M’really sorry, Eddie.”

You heard a soft laugh, barely there and not unkind, an even quieter tsk before two strong hands wrapped themselves around your wrists and tugged gently. You let Eddie guide your palms away from your face and when you opened your eyes, he was a little closer than before.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he whispered. “And you’re certainly not a bitch.”

You blinked at him, trying to keep the frustrated tears you wanted to let out at bay.

“I like being around you too,” Eddie continued and he was looking at you in that way that made your stomach twist. “And if you only think you wanted to kiss me—”

You let out an embarrassed groan and Eddie grinned.

“—that’s okay. I can wait until you know for certain. And if you don’t, then we can still be friends, like we are right now.”

Nothing about your relationship with Eddie felt friendly. Every look and every touch felt electric, like the air around you both knew more than you did, ‘cause it fizzed and buzzed every time he was around. It felt like something else, something more.

“But for the record,” Eddie whispered conspiratorially, pink in the cheeks

despite the way he tried to act all theatrical for you. “I wanted to kiss you.”

You ducked your chin to your chest to try and hide the way you smiled, an embarrassing scrunch of your nose but Eddie saw and he grinned wider, you could feel it, you could sense the way the space between you turned lighter and heavier all at once.

When you looked back up, Eddie was watching you, head tilted and curls a little messy and wild. He was still holding your wrists, his wide hands covering some of your own and you weren’t sure if he even realised.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for something else yet,” you told him and you hated the way you sounded scared. “My last relationship was so— so shit.”

“That’s okay too, well - the first part is. The second part is definitely shitty,” Eddie said, so soft it hurt and god, you believed him. He licked his lips, nervous and unsure, parting them as if to say something else but he stopped.

“What?” You prompted and you flipped your hands in his, palm to palm, so you were able to touch a thumb to the underside of one ring.

“Would it be so bad?” He asked, almost too quiet to hear. “To try?”

You took a breath, held the question and the answer in your chest until it burned and you wondered if it would be. Logic ceased to exist as you thought about leaning forward and pressing your lips to Eddie’s, the idea of your mouth parting slowly against his own was enough to make heat creep up the back of your neck.

You wondered what he’d taste like, if he’d kiss you soft, if he’d kiss you rough, like all his patience had run out and he just had to have you. You thought about his hands, if he’d be soft with them too, if he’d hold you sweet by the waist or if he’d cup your jaw and pull you closer to him. Maybe he’d make pretty sounds for you, maybe he’d groan and sigh low and sweet when your tongue touched his, maybe he’d pull away to whisper in your ear, run his mouth like you knew he was good at.

You were leaning in.

You didn’t even realise.

Eddie was too.

Hands still tangled and resting on your lap, his breath mixing with your own as his forehead touched yours. A curl tickled your cheek and when the bridge of your nose bumped softly against the boy’s, your lashes fluttered as your eyes closed and your heart was thumpingthumpingthumping.

Your brain was yelling. It sounded like your mother, like your ex and it sounded like you, shouting at them both that you didn’t need a relationship and you didn’t need boys and how this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Maybe you pulled back, maybe you just stopped. Or maybe Eddie just knew you better than you thought, ‘cause it had been three weeks of camp and he knew how you liked to visit the lake at least once a day, how you always woke up early and you liked it best when it rained through the night so you could sleep to the sounds of it.

Eddie sat back in the seat, took his hands with him and left yours feeling colder than they should’ve.

Before you could panic, before you could say sorry again and again, before the tears you felt thicken the back of your throat, Eddie smiled. He handed you back your milkshake, a little more melted than before.

“You don’t have to kiss me,” he said gently, and his words hurt your chest but he kept talking. “You don’t have to prove anything to me - or yourself,” he added.

He took a second to lean back in, just a little, the hand not holding his shake lifting to your face so he could push back a piece of hair that had fallen across your forehead. You think he just wanted a reason to touch you, and you realised then you’d let him do that as much as he wanted.

“I don’t want you to kiss me if you’re not sure,” he explained. “And I don’t want to make you feel rushed or—”

“You don’t,” you interrupted and your voice felt too loud for the front of the van, for the soft quiet, the blue light and strawberry air. “You don’t make me feel like that at all, Eddie. I just— I feel…”

Scared, torn, nervous, hypocritical.

You looked at him, sad, doe eyed and nervous, and if you chewed at your poor bottom lip any longer, Eddie was going to have to save it with gentle fingers.

“How ‘bout this,” Eddie said soft and lovely, like a secret, “if you work out how you feel, and you work out what you want…” he trailed off, felt brave again and took your hand back in his, a thumb running over the back of it. “Come find me, yeah? Let me know.”

You nodded, fingertips pushed to his palm, across the tiny guitar string scars and rough calluses.

“‘Cause I really like you,” he whispered.

“I like you too,” you whispered back and Eddie smiled, wide and bright and adorably shy.

“Good to know,” he nodded but his cheeks were flushed and he let go of your hand for the last time, curling his own back around the steering wheel. “We, uh, we better head back before Steve starts a search party for us.”

“For you, you mean,” you snorted.

“Don’t be jealous,” the boy quipped back but he was smiling. “This is gotta be the part of the script where the van breaks down on us, right?”

You laughed again, a soft huff and sounded so fond that it made Eddie’s chest ache. You were busy clipping your seatbelt back in, your shake almost empty and wedged behind your thighs and Eddie tried not to stare, he really did.

“And then what happens?” You asked, peering over at him, wondering if it was safe to ask, if you wanted to know.

Eddie shrugged, gave a sort of half smile that told you he was already thinking it over. “Depends what horror movie you like best, I guess.”

You scrunched your nose and watched the lights turn Eddie from aquamarine to a too warm orange as he rolled out of the diner’s parking lot. “A horror?”

‘I thought this was supposed to be a romance,’ you wanted to say.

You didn’t.

“Yeah, pick your poison sweetheart,” Eddie laughed, gaining a little more speed as he left the town behind and the only light came from the moon. “Ghostface with a knife? He gets me first when I go look for help,” Eddie wiggled his brows at you theatrically. “Or how ‘bout a good old fashioned zombie mob, huh? They surround the van and I obviously sacrifice myself to save you.”

You snorted, too amused. “Obviously,” you tell him.

“But once I’m all zombified, I turn on you,” Eddie grinned wide when you gasped, overly dramatic, just for him. “Start nibblin’ on that pretty neck like a chicken tender.”

You shake your head at him, still laughing. “You’re horrid.”

The boy shrugged, drove the van slowly through the skinny, dirt roads back into the forest. And when he stopped and killed the engine, silence settled over you both in a way it didn’t in town. Something far away chirped.

“Yeah, I know,” he appeased. His gaze settled on you, wide and bright even in the dark, a lot more hopeful too. “But you like me.”

PART TWO

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fic

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thefallennightmare · 5 months

Text

Just Pretend-twelve

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: All I will say is enjoy my loves.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart

NOAH

“You wanna take, take, take. You wanna break, break, break my heart,” I rambled while pacing my room.

Fuck, do I need to add break that many times?

I rambled the sentence a few more times to see how it tasted on my tongue.

Fuck it, I shrugged. It’s good.

My fingers drummed a beat against thigh as I continued to pace the room, anything to keep my mind off of my fucking phone. “But now I know my place.”

Hi.

Who the hell says hi?

It’s been 4 minutes and 35 seconds. No-wait-4 minutes and 53 since I texted Y/N. She’ll probably leave me on read. Especially after how I was acting the last few weeks. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that one of the guys told her how I’d been drinking. Why would she want another Trey? There’s no way she’d respond. Maybe this friendship is over, even despite our feelings. Despite everything maybe it was a lost cause.

“Fuck, I need to get the verse down,” I tossed my phone onto my bed and sang the verse once again.

“You couldn’t wait, wait, wait. For the day, day, day I lost. It’s such a shame, shame, shame you couldn’t change, look what it cost.”

Why the hell did I add day that many times? You know what? I think it works but I’ll ask Jolly what he thinks. As I stood from bed, I scratched at my stomach, my shirt riding up just the slightest and I couldn’t help but think of the reason Y/N gave me my nickname.

“Because you’re the sweetest and your stomach is soft.”

“Idiot,” I grumbled while clipping my hair back away from my face.

I could use a trim.

With a sigh, I took two steps, ready to leave my phone behind on my bed, until his rang loudly and I whipped my head back so fast. My hands shook at my sides, not reaching for it yet, afraid that I might have misheard the notification. But when my phone went off another time, I nearly jumped onto my bed to grab it.

Your Amazon package is out for delivery!

Just as I was about to chuck my phone across the wall, something told me to check the message thread with Y/N one more time.

My message was the last one sent but my heart fell slightly when I saw three bubbles appear.

“Oh shit,” I muttered almost dropping my phone but kept the grip on it firm.

The bubbles disappeared only to appear a few seconds later just to disappear for a few moments too long.

The entire time, I sat on the edge of my bed as my knee bounced in a rapid pace, just as my heart did while I waited to see if she would respond.

Angel 🪽: Hi mochi.

I jumped to my feet, a loud thud echoing from how hard the force was, and I bounced on my heels trying to think of what to say.

Hey, how are you?

Nice, something short and simple. Don’t want to push her too far.

I wasn’t sure what to say, not really. I just knew I wanted her back in my life regardless of how things went. It killed me not to have even the slightest of contact. The first step is this.

Angel 🪽: can we FaceTime? only if you’re comfortable with that. There are some things I need to say and it would be better to face to face than texting.

“Fuck,” I began pacing the length of my bedroom once again, panic setting in low in my stomach. Texting her was one thing but to see her face again made my skin itch and skin tingle in the best way.

But she hurt you.

I sighed at the voice in my mind, knowing it was true, but right now it didn’t matter. We were ready to move past what happened.

Sure.

Seconds later, my phone rang, the trill of it a constant buzzing and I hesitated to answer. But I knew I had too. I was the one that set out the end of the olive branch and she was reaching for it, begging me to pull her back.

Giving myself a quick once over in the mirror of my closets, I smoothed down my hair and wiped at the imaginary dirt on my face before I clicked the green button and soon her face appeared on my screen.

Fuck, she looked ragged. The sunken eyes, the bruised smile but shit, she still looked so beautiful. With the true state I’d been in, I knew I probably didn’t look better.

“Hi,” her voice was rough but angelic.

I noticed my door was open so once that was shut, I sat down at my computer chair, leaning back slightly.

“Hey.”

“How have you been?”

My chair rocked back and forth. “Good, how about you?”

There was a long beat of silence, and I used that time to look at her surroundings. There was a large window behind her with the setting sun casting an orange glow around her.

A true fucking angel.

“Good,” she said after a long breath. “You know what, lets cut the bullshit.”

I blinked, perplexed where this conversation was headed now.

“Angel-,” I began.

But her stern eyes stared back at me when she shook her head. “No, mochi, I need to say this. Please let me say this.”

I took a deep breath, ignoring the way my heart skipped a beat when she said my nickname, and urged her on with a nod.

Her mouth moved like a fish out of water, trying to gather her words. “I hurt you. I hurt you and I’m so fucking sorry, Noah.”

I stared at her and to be honest; I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn't sure who would apologize first then I remembered I didn’t need to apologize. I wasn’t the one who left.

“It’s-.”

“No,” she cut me off. “Let me finish. I’m truly sorry. I had no right to just up and leave with no explanation.”

She abruptly stood and walked across her room before sitting on her bed now, a furry animal curled up on the pillow next to her.

Salem.

“There are so many things haunting me, Noah. As I’m sure there are things haunting you and I’m just-I’m sorry.”

I wanted to say something, anything, but I sat frozen holding the phone in front of my face while I perched my other arm behind my head. There were so many thoughts weighing heavy on my mind until finally I started small.

“I-I appreciate your apology.”

I wanted to deep deeper into this; I wanted to continue to dig and dig and dig under her skin and brain because I wanted to know more but she was holding back.

She brought Salem into her lap then set up her phone that I could see her entire body and the cat on her lap. Y/N looked beautiful in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, her hair in a disarrayed bun, strands falling into her face but didn’t care enough to brush away.

Noise outside my door took my attention away from my phone for a few seconds as I sat up straighter in my chair, eyes narrowing towards the door.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

My eyes snapped back to my phone at that word; friendship.

We already established there's nothing more than being friends. It doesn’t make much sense with what we’d been through but right now, I’d take what I can get.

“I don’t want to, either,” I admitted with a sigh. “These last few weeks have been pretty rough for me and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you, angel.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “I missed you too, mochi. So we can both agree, fresh start?”

“I’d like that,” I smiled. “Salem?”

She beamed while holding up the cat so he could extended his body straight like a stick. “Yep. He’s settled into the move right away. You should see Malcolm with him. At first, Malcolm wouldn’t even be in the same room together but now, I catch him stealing Salem from my room so he could cuddle him.”

I chuckled at the vision of large Malcolm snuggling with a small cat on the couch.

“What about you? How are you enjoying living in Los Angeles?”

“I haven’t got out much because of the pandemic but now that the ban is lifted, I want to find an art studio or a gym. Something to get my ass out of the house.”

“You should come with me to my gym,” the words rushed out before I could stop myself. “I’ve been trying to get one of the guys to come with but they won’t.”

She raised a hesitant brow. “Are you sure? I don’t want to interject myself in something thats yours.”

“Angel, I promise you its fine.” I assured her.

“Alright, fuck it. I’m in,” she smiled. “I want to learn some taekwondo.”

I hummed. “Lucky for you, the place I go offers some great classes on Tuesdays and Fridays, we can go this week?”

It was already Wednesday so it would be a few days before we rushed into this.

“I’d like that, Noah. Thank you.”

“Y/N, the pharmacy called me because you didn’t answer. Your meds are ready for pickup.”

Chase appeared behind Y/N in the screen and when he saw me, he cursed. “Fuck, I didn’t know you were on the phone. Sup, Noah.”

I nodded. “Hey man.”

Y/N waved Chase off. “It’s fine. We can pick them up after dinner.”

“Meds? Everything alright?” I asked with slight worry.

I fully expected her to brush me off or change the subject.

“Remember when I told you that night that I deal with something every month and it’s a lot?”

I tried not to remember the aftermath of us having sex.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, I have to take different meds to help with it. It’s a lot to go into right now but I promise, one day.”

“Whenever you’re ready, angel,” I said with a smile, not wanting to feel like she needed to be forced to tell me what was wrong with her.

“What the fuck? I’m starving and you two are chit chatting like teenage girls who just found out the schools hot gossip.”

Malcolm appeared on screen behind Y/N and threw up the two fingered peace sign. “Sorry, Noah. We’re taking her away from you.”

I chuckled. “All good. We can talk tomorrow? I can call around 2:30?”

Y/N smiled that bright smile that pulled at the strings of my heart; the one that connected us. “I’d like that, mochi.”

With one final goodbye, I hit the red button, ending the call with a sigh. It was only a few minute long conversation but enough to ease the worry if everything would be alright.

“Shit.”

“Get your foot off of my knee, you dumbass.”

“Did they hang up? I can’t hear anything?”

What the fuck?

JOLLY

“We shouldn’t eavesdrop. It’s not our place,” I said with my hands deep in my pockets.

“Dude, were not listening to him fuck her. They’re talking since they fucked,” Orie pointed to Noah’s closed door.

“Real classy, dickhead,” Jesse smacked the back of Orie’s head.

“I’m just saying,” he raised his hands in defense. “I want to hear! Now move.”

Jesse kneeled in front of Noah’s door with Orie leaning over him, and Michale standing behind Orie.

“Why are they talking about taekwando?” Jesse wondered.

“Shut the fuck up, Jesse I can’t hear,” Michael slapped his arm.

I shook my head before temptation gave in and I kneeled next to Jesse so I could get a better listen. This was the first time Y/N and Noah would talk since that night and since there wasn’t any raised voices, I could only hope it was a civil conversation.

“Move your hair it’s in my face,” Jesse tried to push me away.

“Not my fault you’re a dwarf, man,” I shrugged then hushed him.

“I’d like that, Noah. Thank you.”

The small glimmer of hope that things would be okay intensified when I heard the softness of Y/N’s voice. I could almost imagine that eye crinkling smile she would do; the one Noah loved.

“If Noah knows we’re listening, he won’t turn the heat on for a week,” Michael reminded us.

“Shit,” Jesse cursed.

Orie pushed Michale away. “Get your foot off of my knee, you dumbass.”

“Did they hang up? I can’t hear anything?”

Suddenly, the door opened behind us but I was the only saved from falling to the floor at Noah’s feet that was covered with his favorite pair of Naurato socks; Jesse, Orie, and Michael all falling on top of each other in a heap.

“What the fuck?” Noah cursed with hands on his hips. “Were you guys listening to my conversation?”

The three of them scrambled to their feet before running down the stairs, their laughter echoing through our shared home. I watched with a small smile and shook my head before Noah glared over to me.

“Fuck you, you know what? No heat. I’m serious! Kiss my ass.” He called out after them. “It’s going to be 65 degrees all week!”

“Wasn’t my idea,” I defended with my hands held up.

Groans carried upstairs as soon as Noah turned off the heat. “Oh, come on, Noah!”

“What the fuck, man!”

A sly smirk played at his lips. “We got stock in Bad Omens hoodies; fucking wear one and don’t listen to my phone calls.”

Once Noah retreated into his room, I stared at the closed door with a proud smile. It was a drastic change in attitude from how he was just last week. Talking to Y/N brought out the playful, joking side of Noah that we all love and missed.

Maybe things were going to be alright.

“So who’s going up there to ask how it went,” Orie’s voice called out from downstairs.

NOAH

The soft, delicate, knock against my bedroom door made me take off my headphones, setting them down on my desk. Exiting out of my game and making sure TWITCH was closed out, I rose from my seat and ran a hand through my hair before I opened the door, heart falling into my stomach at the sight in front of me.

Y/N was wringing her nervous hands together, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“Angel? What are you doing here?” I questioned while leaning an arm against the door.

“Uh, Jesse let me in. I-I needed to see you,” she hugged the jacket closer to her chest, something clearly bothering her.

My brows scrunched together, still shocked that she was standing in front of me. Just a few hours ago, we were talking on FaceTime about our gym meet up tomorrow and she said she needed to hang up because Chase and her had plans to go hiking.

“Everything alright?”

She hesitated eyes darting to my bedroom. “I need your help, Noah.”

My heart jumped into my throat as I stood straighter, unsure if I heard her correctly. “With what? Is something broken?”

“No, Noah,” Y/N’s voice dropped low before taking a step towards me, hands trailing down my chest. “I need you.”

Oh, fuck.

The passionate, high energy, tension that we feared was lost came flooding back into our veins as I yanked Y/N into the room, kicking the door shut behind her. I wrapped my hand behind her head and sparks shot through my entire existence when I pressed my lips against Y/N’s in a soul shattering, earth ending kiss. My tongue pushed past her lips almost instantly, finding hers in a fight for dominance. It explored every inch of her mouth and she moaned, nails scratching at the fabric of my shirt. With one hand wrapped around the back of her neck, the other slipped underneath her shit to graze over the soft skin of her stomach.

“Noah,” she breathed against my lips.

“Fuck, I missed you angel,” I walked her backwards towards my bed.

Her lips were swollen, lipstick smeared from the force of our kiss, and I felt all the heat rush straight to my cock when I thought of those lips stretched around me, drool leaking out of the corners of her mouth and trickling down her chin as she struggled to take all of me in.

My dick ached in pain, needing some sends of release; soon.

I helped her out of her clothes; her doing the same to me, as our lips met again. My teeth bitting down on her bottom one as she tried to pull away.

She hissed while dabbing a finger to her face. “Did-did you just bite me?”

I took in the sight of her standing in front of me in a simple black matching bra and panties set.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” I hooked a finger into the strap of her bra, sliding it down over her shoulder.

The tattoo’s that littered her skin almost glowed from the neon lights in my room. Kaonashi on her arm, the large array if flowers and veins on the other arm, the one of all the Greek Gods on Mt. Olympus on her thigh, and the small design of Totoro on her ankle, the ones we got on her birthday. Aogaeru from Spirited Away on my ankle.

Turning her towards my bed, I trailed my fingers down her back to unhook her bra, letting it fall down to the floor at our feet. My lips littered soft kisses along the large snake and flower tattoo on her back as I dropped to my knees, slipping off her panties to her ankles.

“Fucking beautiful,” I praised while looking up at her.

Y/N peered down at me over her shoulder. “I could get used to you being on your knees for me.”

I turned her back to face me and left my hands on her hips. “I’ll pray to this body every night if that means you stay with me, angel.”

Her hand raked through the long locks of my hair and I let myself relax into her touch as I stared at her warm core right in front of me. The phantom taste from the last time I tasted her still lingered on my tongue.

“Noah?”

I hummed while peering up through my lashes at her.

“Stand up.”

Doing what she said, I stood to my feet and now towered over her by atleast a foot. Her nails scratched down my bare chest and I hissed in pure ecstasy. The pain making me realize this was real. She was in front of me.

I attacked her lips once again as her fingers trailed down over my stomach to the waistband of my briefs, helping me step out of them. Y/N’s eyes flashed down to my hard cock as it sprang free, beads of pre-cum spilling from the slit. I rubbed my thumb over it and groaned at how sensitive I was.

“I missed you,” Y/N pressed a kiss to the pulse point of my throat; the apple.

My head titled back to give her more access, and I gripped her hips tighter.

“Sit down,” she nodded to the edge of my bed.

Once seated, Y/N kneeled down on the floor between my legs and I shivered under her touch again as her nails raked up and down my thighs. I watched her actions from the mirror behind her, eyes drinking in the sight of her large back tattoo and the perkiness of her round ass. My cock twitched in front of her face as she gazed up at me, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’ve dreamed of the way you tasted, Noah.”

My fingers grazed over her chin, up her jaw, to the back of her head and tangled within the waves of her hair. My other hand gripped my cock as I guided the tip towards her lips.

“Open those pretty lips for me, angel.”

A guteral groan sounded from the back of my throat and I titled my head up towards the ceiling, my long hair cascading down my back. I gripped Y/N’s head with a vise grip and guided her up and down; slowly at first until I reached the resistance of the back of her throat and buried my cock deep in there.

“Shit,” I breathed when she choked on me. “Feels so good.”

I kept her there for a few more seconds before letting the grip on her head ease enough that she could start moving once again. She flattened her tongue to press underneath my shaft and when her fingers cupped my tight balls; I knew I was nearing the edge of bliss. The bottom of my spine tingled with a burning that only she could bring but not yet; I didn’t want this to be over yet.

She pulled off of my cock with a loud pop as I lifted her from the ground to kneel on my bed. I pressed my large hand over her bed so I could push her upper half down on the bed while keeping her ass up in the air. I positioned us so we could face the mirror and I trailed a finger down her spine.

“Spread your legs for me,” I ordered before laying a firm smack to her ass.

Y/N writhed with a moan but did as I asked. I guided the head of my throbbing cock up and down the wetness of her folds.

“Noah,” she whined. “Please.”

“You like that, angel?” I asked.

She moans her response, but I didn’t like that answer. With my cock poised at her entrance, I leaned over her back so my warm breath fanned over the crook of her neck.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, I like it,” she answered breathlessly.

“Good girl,” I praised before slipping into her tightness; finally.

We shared a long moan, the feeling of being connected once again being almost too much for me to take, my cock pulsating inside of her. The warmth spread over every inch of pricked skin, the sensation clawing at my insides; in the best way possible. It felt like how it did that night only better because she wasn’t going anywhere. I’d make sure she’d stay tonight.

“I’m so tense, Noah,” she writhed underneath me.

I lazily kissed her back as my hips rutted up against her. “You came back.”

I pushed her face into the mattress because of my weight on her back so she could only speak.

“Always.”

My hair spread over her back when I pressed my forehead in-between her shoulders, the sweat from her skin tasting bittersweet on my tongue. I sunk my teeth deep into her, marking her as my own and pulled my cock almost all the way out, just leaving the tip.

“Mine?”

Her answer was a mess of curses when my fingers pressed into her clit, drawing fast circles. His pussy clenched over my cock as she came undone, her arousal spreading down my thighs. I hooked my fingers in her mouth to hold her up so she could watch us in the mirror now.

“Watch as I fuck your pretty pussy,” I ordered, long hair covering my face.

Y/N did the best she could to nod with my hooks in her mouth and my pace became relentless, slamming into her so hard and fast, the noises echoed throughout my room. The burning felt warm at the base of my spine as my heart pounding widly in my chest, my own orgasm so fucking close to destroying me. She looked fucking angelic from her reflection in the mirror. Her skin soaked in the neon glows of the lights of my bedroom and I wondered if anyone could hear us through the white noise of our moans and skin slapping.

My name sounded muffled from her throat since I still had my fingers hooked inside her mouth.

“What?” I unhooked my fingers.

Y/N swallowed thickly. “I want you to fuck me against the mirror.”

Anything for you, angel.

With an arm around her stomach, I lifted her off of the bed and walked over to my mirror closet, pressing her back to it. I hooked her leg over my hip then slid deep within her walls once again, my head falling to her chest with this new angle.

“Fuck,” my teeth graze over the perky buds of her nipples, swirling my tongue over them.

“Harder,” she begged, running her hands through my hair.

She gathered it at the ends and pulled my head back to crash her lips to mine and with a few hard slams of my cock into her, Y/N came apart once again for me, screaming her release into my mouth. My back tensed as my stomach muscles contracted, and with the force of my thrusts, the closet doors shook, one of them breaking off the rolling hinge and shattering the glass directly in the middle.

“Shit,” Y/N giggled.

I paid no mind to the broken glass as I buried myself deep within her, orgasm so close to cresting over me in waves.

“Cum for me, Noah,” she nipped and sucked at the tattoo across my neck again.

Her name fell from my lips repeatedly, cock thrusting into her with every utter of it.

“I love you, Noah.”

“Noah.”

“Noah, wake-.”

“NOAH! Wake up!”

My eyes bolted open as my chest heaved with every deep breath, heart pulsating to an uneven rhythm. Sweat covered every inch of my skin as I peered down at my body, dick standing straight up underneath the sheer fabric of my blanket.

It was a dream?

Fuck, I sighed while running a hand over my face before staring directly into the eyes of the person who wasn’t in my dreams two seconds ago.

Jesse took a bite out of an apple and nodded down towards me. “I hate to ruin whatever you have going on, but it’s time to get up.”

I rubbed my eyes in exhaustion and continued to heave, trying to ease my racing heart. Fick, that felt so real I was sure I was going cum.

“Must have been some dream, you were really enjoying that,” he chuckled before taking another large bite out of his apple.

I chucked my pillow at him. “I fucking hate you.”

“No, you don’t. Now hurry the fuck up, your oatmeal is getting cold.” He chuckled. “Although, maybe you need a cool down. Take a cold shower first.”

“Fuck off,” I tossed another pillow at him.

Thirty minutes and a very ice-cold shower later, I trekked down the stairs into the kitchen where three smug smiles stared at me.

“Oh, you’re finally awake!” Orie gave me a teasing smirk.

“Yeah, he was a little occupied,” Jesse laughs.

I knocked the apple out of his hands; it clattering to the kitchen counter.

“With what now?” Jolly questioned with a mock curiosity.

“Noah had a wet dream,” Jesse informed everyone.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why are you guys always in my business?”

They all share a laugh before Jolly’s calming voice brought a sense of sincerity to the conversation. “It’s not a big deal, Noah. Was it- was it about Y/N?”

I did my best to hide the way my face reddened by sticking my head in the fridge to grab the milk.

“Oh, fuck. Angel. So good.” Jesse mocked in a voice that sounded nothing like me.

“Laugh it up,” I grumbled while slamming the fridge shut, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“It’s not a big deal, Noah, considering you see her today. Are you feeling okay?” Jolly wondered.

I shrugged while stuffing my hands into my gym shorts. “Yeah why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, just becau-.”

“Look I appreciate you guys, really. And I love you for helping me. I just-I want to try to atleast get back to being friends with her. I want to move past this awkward bullshit and have her in my life again. I can’t care about the details right now.”

“We know,” Orie nodded. “We want to make sure you two are going slow this time.”

“I know, I know. We’re meeting at the gym today, be nice to just hang out and do something-healthy. Talk.” I smiled with excitement and nerves.

Jolly smile while standing to his feet. “Good, I’m glad you two are talking again. Still want to write tonight?

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got another track we can start.”

NOAH

Inside the gym, two minutes before our meet time, I waited by sitting in a chair my leg bounced up and down, up and down- I paced that gym floor, burnt rubber almost gave the room a scent. I was finally seeing her again, since that night. Not on the phone, not waiting for a text. Physical and beautiful form. She had come back into my life like a sudden flame, blazing and streaming into my heart. I stayed up all night contemplating the certain agony I knew would be mine if I were to lose her twice.

Movement out of the corner of my eye made me turn towards the direction of the door, her angelic form stepping into my line of sight. Immediately, thoughts of my dream earlier came flooding back, and I shifted on my feet, hoping my cock would get the memo not to get hard.

Not right now.

All the breath got knocked out of me when her bright eyes landed on me and I gave her a small, awkward wave. When I saw her last on FaceTime yesterday, her skin still looked sunken in and pale, but now she looked like all the life had been breathed back into her.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hey.”

“Sorry I’m late. Chase dropped me off so I only have an hour before he picks me up. Something about him and Malcolm having tickets to a movie tonight.”

I waved her off. “You’re fine, angel. I could always give you a ride back home if you need.”

She thought about it, I could tell the way her pupils dilated.

“That’s sweet of you, Noah. But Chase promised he’d buy me Greek for dinner tonight before dropping me off to my art class,” she shrugged playfully.

I wasn’t sure if that was the truth or just an excuse not to spend more alone time together. Even if our conversation was flowing, there was still that awkward tension because of the elephant in the room; the one neither of us wanted to discuss. We wanted to move past what happened, start fresh.

“Art class?”

“Yeah,” she beamed. “I’m taking some painting lessons. Just another thing I started post pandemic.”

“That’s great, angel. I’d love to see what you create,” I said.

We were silents for a few long beats, just gazing at each other, and feeling the sudden thick tension, I motioned towards the equipment behind me.

“Is there something specific you want to get started on?”

“I usually like to warm up on the treadmill,” Y/N said while adjusting the strap of her gym bag.

We walked over to a more quiet area of the gym, neither of us wanting to be noticed, and as I set my things down on an open bench, I tossed off my sweater, being left in a cut off t-shirt and black shorts, and when I noticed Y/N was still wearing her heavy sweater, I raised a brow.

“Aren’t you going to get hot in that?”

She shrugged while playing with the zipper. “I’ll be fine.”

“Angel,” I took a step towards her. “Take it off. It’s hot in here already. Don’t feel like you have to hide yourself, especially from me. Remember that?”

Considering I’ve seen it all already.

Ignoring the voice in my head, I watched as Y/N eventually nodded and shed off the extra layer, now standing in front of me in tight leggings that hugged her ass perfectly and a sports bra, showing off the toned stomach I wanted to graze my tongue over.

Focus, Noah.

For the next hour, we spent time on our own choices of machines but still within range of sight. Since we were here later on in the evening, the gym wasn't that crowded. Every so often, our gazes would find each other from across the area we were working out in; me on the weight machine, her at the treadmills. It was that invisible string that tethered our hearts together, always wanting to make sure that we never strayed to far from each other.

Now, we stood packing up our things and Y/N hissed as she tried to rub out a sore spot in her back, one she couldn’t reach.

“Mochi, do you mind helping stretching me out?”

Fuck. Me.

The nickname did wonders on my already racing heart.

“Uh, yea. Sure.”

My fingers gripped her hips as she twisted and turned, before bending over to touch her toes while one hand began rubbing out the tense knots in her back.

“Oh, thank you, Noah. I’ve been so tense back there lately.”

“I’m so tense, Noah,” she writhed underneath me.

Images of her underneath me, cock slamming into her, made my cock twitch with the need to be touched. And with how close Y/N was to me as she stood straight, I knew if she took the slightest step back, my cock would brush against her ass.

Fuck, this wasn’t going to be easy.

NOAH

I all but busted through the front door, gripping my gym bag so tight my knuckles had gone white. Shortly after helping stretch out Y/N, Chase arrived to pick her up. We decided we would meet every Friday around 1o am for the taekwando classes. Ever since my dream this morning and now what happened at the gym, my cock was throbbing almost in pain, begging for release.

“How did your workout go?”

“Went great,” I tossed towards Jesse who sat with Harper in his lap on the couch.

“Just great? I mean that’s it?”

With a sigh, I stopped halfway up the stairs. “Yeah we talked, we- we’re good. I’m gonna take a shower and I’ll be down soon.”

Finally in the solitude of the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. Sweat covered every inch of me again and I tensed, my whole face red and contorted. Y/N in that outfit haunted my mind since the second I saw her. I see the way she moved during her workout, her panting, the sweat dripping off her skin.

Then thoughts of our night together overtook me and I gripped the bathroom counter to steady myself. It was impossibly hard to forget.

“Fuck,” I groaned feeling the blood rushing to every organ in my body.

I turned the shower on, letting the steam gather and levitate around the room.

Hades doesn't have shit on me.

The steam almost makes me glow as I continued to stand there, staring at myself in the mirror for a few more seconds before stripping out of my gym clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor.

My body was wet, soaked from the steam and sweat alone, as my chest heaved with every deep breath I took. Flashes of Y/N still overtaking my mind. Once finally under the spray of the water, I couldn’t take it anymore; my cock couldn't take it anymore. It was thick, red, and angry from the prolonged release and I brushed my thumb over the head, smearing the pre-cum from tip to base. With one hand on the wall and the other wrapped tightly around my cock, I stroked myself fast, not wanting to drag this out any longer.

“I miss the way you say my name, angel,” I panted.

I hear her say my name over and over. Memories flash from the beginning, her smile, her body, the way she was mounted on top of me. Oh gods, I see it and her mouth in an O shape as she came undone on my cock; in the dream and real life.

My head tilted back towards the water and I had to open my mouth, letting the water deep throat me, to muffle my sounds. The noises, the voice that was her in my head. It was so hard to just pretend what it’s like when I tasted the real thing before.

“God, I want to fuck you again. So bad.”

My deep, guttural groan echoed through the confines of the bathroom as my hips stilled, my release finally spilling into my hand.

NOAH

I sat on the edge of my bed, towel wrapped loosely around my hips, and the pen scratching widely on the paper in my lap. My head snapped up to the mirror in front of me, hair soaked with the water from my shower as droplets fell onto the pages in my lap and smearing some of the ink. But I didn’t care; I would always remember these words.

The perfect mirror. The one that didn’t have a crack running along it; reminding me that earlier today was a dream. I laughed a breathy laugh, grinning ear to ear while shaking my head. I fell into deep thought. Maybe I was in delirium, could have been the orgasm, could have been seeing Y/N again. Most likely both.

“Loves the death of peace of mind,” I muttered and proceeded writing the chorus of what I knew was true.

“You’re in the walls that I made with crosses and frames hanging upside down. For granted, in vain, I took everything I ever cared about.”

Shit, this was good.

Quickly standing to my feet, I threw on some clothes but before I left the room; I snapped a few selfies, then snatched the pad of paper to run down the stairs.

“Where’s the fire?” Nicholas chuckled.

Thankfully, everyone I needed was already in the living room; Jolly, Nicholas, and Folio.

I tossed the pad of paper on the table in front of them. “New song.”

The three shared a look before they leaned forward to read what I wrote.

“The way you fuck, the way you taste? For fuck's sake, Noah. I don’t want to know that shit,” Nicholas rolled his eyes.

I shrugged while bouncing on the soles of my feet with excitement. “Then plug your ears, man. Doesn't matter to me.”

Jolly was the one who spoke next. “The way you bend? The way you break? Fuck, what the hell happened in that hotel room?”

I smile the smallest of smiles. “All I’ll say is I was Mount Olympus.”

The three of them share yet another look before Folio shakes his head. “Didn’t need the image, bro.”

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

269 notes · View notes

hexonthepeach · 2 months

Text

perfume - k.dy

pairing: f4!nct doyoung x fem!reader (past johnny x reader mentions)

genre: hana yori dango/boys over flowers/meteor garden/f4 thailand reverse harem au (mild allusions and characterization only)

warnings:

bully-to-friends-to-lovers, established relationship, polyamory, dom!doyoung, glucose father adjacent, scent kink, control over food consumption/bathing (for scent kink purposes only), gratuitous use of the l-word by anti-romantics, angst/feelings, flashbacks and history

🔞 edging, cockwarming, orgasm denial, oral (m/f receiving), passionate sex, rough sex, spanking, creampie, bukkake, consensual negotiated kink (degradation, somnophilia), anal play (f receiving)

wordcount: 20k

author's note: this is a doyoung-centered continuation of my ongoing F4 au. it can stand on it's own but i recommend reading Dive for more context. Doyoung's role in the F4 is Sojirou Nishikado/So Yijung/Ximen/Kavin (playboy control freak) so this fic incorporates elements of his secondary romance within the original/adaptations, now with y/n.

read on AO3

fic headers / dividers credit to @ saradika + please do not repost

Freshman year, Kocher International.

Head down in your books at lunch, trying so hard to escape scrutiny from above, you pretend to be no one.

It shouldn't be hard to be nobody, otherwise ignored and immune to whatever social contract deliberates your life. In a better world you'd be invisible. It's a superpower you'd wish for much more over the usual playground answers of super speed or control of the weather.

Let me be unobserved, you'd thought. Let me open a door and not worry about a bucket full of dirty mop water falling on my head or the inevitable posting of a grainy video of it, posted in a Telegram channel to fulfill some checklist made up by bored, rich monsters.

Your four-generation-behind phone with its cracked screen proved useful in some regards; you never heard about these public pillories until some kind stranger sent you a screenshot of them, usually in the context of whatever plans they'd made to torture you again.

Every notification is already a pain, driving splintered glass into the pads of your fingers. Just now you're reading a text message from your father asking you to pick up more cheap instant noodles from the convenience store on your walk home to round out whatever scraps he's picked up from the local restaurant your mother bussed tables and cleaned dishes at when she needed extra money.

"Why is Saint Kim watching you?" your friend asks across the table. She's been looking up at the room this entire time, unable to give you even a moment of her attention or assistance to finish the English homework you'd been working on. You'd been rushing all day to finish it before afternoon class, after a late morning of delivery driving for your family's drycleaning business.

"Are you sure it's not the Devil?" you ask, parsing through the lines of a book you'd bought secondhand, trying to match verse for verse.

"No," she says, shaking her head when you finally look up. "Don't react. He's coming this way."

"Shit," you say under your breath, eyes flicking to your untouched lunch. "I need you to leave now. Take these trays and dump them and I'll meet you outside of 4th. If I make it."

You don't look up from your book as you mutter, but you follow her path and her hesitancy as she internally debates whether to heed your warning or watch from a safe distance.

Your handwriting becomes a scrawl of nonsense you have to cross out in sharp lines. You begin the verse again, holding your breath as you will your entire body and mind back to a manufactured calm.

If you can't be invisible, you can at least play your role. You're copacetic by the time you see the tips of polished black wingtips beside you, before you hear the Saint clear his throat.

“Y/N.”

He drops a familiar, school-mandated clear cosmetics bag next to your ratty backpack. The already embarrassing stash of tampons and old chapstick has a new bounty including a "used" pregnancy test stick with a second line drawn in with pink gel pen jumbled into its contents.

"You left this . . ." he says, not finishing the sentence to indicate where he'd found it. You immediately hear a titter. Your flock of spectators is growing by the second and the useful idiot at its center seems wholly unconcerned.

"Thanks," you say, not bothering to look up or to even hide the bag. You keep writing, blindly, the English words just rounded shapes flowing from your shaking hand.

Their kind fed off attention, your only defense is to starve them of it.

The Saint clears his throat, again. Apparently he’s not just unconcerned, he’s also unwilling to leave.

"Aren't you grateful Doie found it before someone else did?" You don’t have to look up to know it's Miranda who’s asked, glimpsing her manicure as she picks up your bag, green gems shining on perfectly-tipped nails.

"Oh this must not be hers. I didn't think she could afford this."

You think she might be diving into the stash for one of the Lilies' pointed additions but no–you watch in horror as she plucks out the bottle of perfume you'd been carrying with you since your parents had gifted you a single, tiny box last Christmas.

"Chanel?" she says, laughing. "No wonder you smell like my grandma."

"Probably a knock-off," another of the Lilies says. Ginger, by the sound of her grating voice. Her handwriting on the board in homeroom listing out your abortions is as familiar as the pink gel pen script on the extra large foil condom with xoxo slut written on it staring at you through the plastic.

"Definitely a knock-off. You have a nose, don't you, Doie?"

You look up, finally, at Saint Kim. He's alone for once–the other one, the Devil Kim that shadows him is still up on the second level, leaning on the railing over his shoulder. You watch the Saint’s small mouth turn into a moue of distaste, nose wrinkling at the proffered bottle.

"Authentic," he says, capping it before offering it back to you. Your field of vision is obstructed by that veined, pale hand–fingernails as perfectly groomed as the rich girls who surround him.

You reach up to take your most prized possession back only to find he doesn't let go, holding tight when you try to pluck it from his fingers.

"You should know . . . " he says, sniffing slightly.

You look up at him with alarm blazing in your eyes. Every word Kim Doyoung says to you writes your next damnation. You should ignore him, run, anything–but you can't look away once you've met his assessing gaze, his tall frame limned in the fluorescent cafeteria lights like he's carrying his own personal halo.

Even seeing him at a distance every day can't depreciate how ethereally handsome he is. You know better than to swoon at that elegant face, night-black hair pushed away from his forehead. Beneath his family’s charities and his PR-scripted concern you know he’s just another ungodly creation birthed of nepotism and curated genes.

He leans in, carefully, musical voice a whisper.

"You should know it doesn't suit you."

The laughter that follows is deafening.

No, you think. He's just as soulless as the rest of them.

“What do you mean actually sleep?" you ask, coyly, unbuttoning your romper. "Like after we . . . ?"

"I've managed 6 hours of sleep in 36 hours, y/n–” Doyoung seems to hesitate, dark eyebrows raising, hand pushing his hair back from his pale forehead. He snaps his laptop closed, at last, shoving it to the farthest edge of the bedside table.

No–you think–not hesitation.

Frustration.

You've seen this man before.

All work and no play made Saint Kim into a Prince of Hell. He'd spent the first 8 hours of your date day half-present–the other in the 4 hours of sleep he's gotten since some crisis at his family’s headquarters in London that usurped your vacation.

A whole 2 days in which he hasn't held you at all. His rules, his chance, but you can't help but wonder what has him so clenched that he's barely even touched you since your date began at 6 am Bangkok time.

You'd taken two extra strength melatonin and slept like the dead, anticipating his early-riser schedule. Only you and God had to know you'd fallen asleep next to your day tour fit ready to be fucked in it.

You’d made yourself so pretty only to find him in the kitchen hunched over his phone, laptop softly pinging with notifications. Doyoung had still been dressed in the clothes you'd seen him in the night before, ending his conference call to laser in on you hovering in the kitchen.

"Are you upset?" Doyoung asked.

"No," you'd lied, pushing the piece of paper he'd left the staff on the counter, his English handwriting crisp and formal. "What’s this?"

"We have a few dietary restrictions today," he’d said.

"Are you saying I am what I eat?" You’d asked, taking a bite of a plump strawberry. "Is this some kind of prep?"

"It's for the date," he'd said, resigned. "Just be patient with me."

Then he'd smiled, disarming you with a casualness you hadn’t seen on him in a long time, rubbing his eyes blearily under his thick glasses.

"Can we go back to sleep?"

And so you'd settled into his grasp on your made bed, scrolling Insta and waiting for the inevitable alarm–which turned out just to be Jungwoo delivering two iced Americanos in some gambit of checking your progress.

"Missed the floating market opening?" Jungwoo asked, eyebrows raised at the sight of Doyoung face first in a pillow.

You'd silently mouthed your thanks, leaving the drinks to sweat on the bedside table as you changed into your second outfit of the day, occasionally drifting in to check on your sleeping beauty.

It was a rare delight to have him so vulnerable beside you, blanket rucked up beneath his chin and his white teeth visible past the sweet curves of his mouth. Without consciousness your partner for the day is just Kim Doyoung, the gentler side of the same creature who you knew would often choose a couch to watch serial television with you over a day trip if you wanted it.

But this was different.

Now instead of using his precious time to fulfill what you'd felt promised in his casual brushes against your back when you'd finally traveled out, or the way he'd stroked your leg at brunch under the table (every bite chosen by him, of course), you're being railroaded into lying still while he sleeps.

Again.

You continue undressing, letting him drink in the sight of the lingerie set he’d left in your room. You knew it was custom made by the way it lifted each curve he’d already had access to, tailored for you as if every millimeter of your body was to account for.

Doyoung's cheeks are hollowed, lip chewed. He pulls his glasses down and regards you even more as you continue to undress yourself.

"You do know what the word 'nap' means, don't you?"

"I'm not the one who hasn't slept," you say. "At least let me get comfortable."

His stare pierces into you as you turn around, stripping for utility rather than give him a show he clearly hasn’t earned. You check yourself in the floor-length mirror beside the bathroom, viewing yourself through his eyes as you pluck the lace over your curves to sit just right.

“Do you like it?” you ask.

You may as well be speaking to the floor when you turn around, finding him buried in the pillows only by the dark fall of his hair.

“You can’t be that tired,” you say.

You're used to taking a late afternoon siesta in peak summer but you're far too excited to even consider sleep right now. For one, it's sweltering–windows open to allow the noises of hawkers and traffic not far off to drift in.

Second, you've never been more turned on in your life.

You can still feel the tingling in your toes from when he’d slipped his hand up under the hem of your shorts, teasing at the velvety smooth skin on your inner thigh as you tried not to choke on your mimosa.

You make your way to the bed languidly, crawling up the thick white duvet with a teasing smile.

"Just stay on your side of the bed, please," Doyoung says.

"Oh," you say, collapsing on top of the covers beside him. "Well you're no fun."

"And you're impatient and uncouth," he retorts in a way that makes you wonder if he really means it.

"Will you at least hold onto me?"

"Too hot." He rolls on his back, flapping his half-buttoned shirt in the breeze from the fans. You sigh dramatically, collapsing into the pillows in the middle of the bed.

"You should get naked, then.” You say. “Don't be modest on my account."

He opens one eye to glare at you, finding you relaxed and inviting beside him. His throat bobs, gaze flicking to the ceiling.

"That year of celibacy really took a toll on you, didn't it? Two hours. Indulge me."

"Please, sir," you whisper. "I've been such a good girl."

It had been a stipulation of the F4’s latest deal–24 hours for you to recover from your first night before the gauntlet began. Doyoung had been more than strict about the terms, leaving you your own set of instructions including–not surprisingly–not touching yourself.

Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t think about masturbation constantly, at all hours of the day. He may as well have told you to try not to think about a white bear for how powerful the intrusive thought had taken over since then.

"You'll get your reward. Later," he says. He's an impassable wall, stretched out beside you, so you content yourself with staring at his profile. Even under these oppressive circumstances you appreciate the light dusting of freckles on his cheek brought out by the sun, the dark lashes dusting his cheeks over the slight bluish marks of sleep deprivation.

"Yes, sir."

It only takes a few minutes for him to snap at you again.

"Stop that,"

"Stop what?"

"Getting so handsy."

You hadn’t even realized your hand had drifted over the plane of his belly under his white shirt, too absorbed with watching the muscles in his cheek spasm as you inched nearer.

"Can I help it when you're right there?" you ask. "I thought this was your–"

Doyoung rolls you before you can slither any closer, pressing your back into the sheets with his hands on your wrists, knees digging into your thighs.

If the intention was to get you to stop being uncomfortably turned on it has the opposite effect: you let out a moan of pleasure, legs twisting together for friction. He slams them shut between his own, groin pressed into yours.

He's as hard as you hoped, and you lift up into him to let him know you know it.

"If you don't behave I'll have to cancel this," he warns directly in your ear, sounding as choked as you feel. "I thought you were already trained."

"Trained to fight back," you correct, pressing against him with your own strength.

"That's not trained," he says, lifting up. "I'll blame your lack of experience and experienced partners. Nothing we can't work on. Until then you'll follow my rules or I pull you from the game. Understood?"

You let a few beats pass, accepting there's no way out and you don't have anything to throw back at him.

"Yes, sir," you pout.

"Now that's a good girl," he says.

Just as quickly as you were taken down you're let go, inhaling deeply now that you're not being pressed into the soft bed.

"You really don't want to play with me before you sleep?" you ask, brushing your lips against his chin as he crouches over you. You’d be a liar if you didn’t say you enjoyed the way his nostrils flare a bit, working his pink bottom lip between his teeth. Whatever arbitrary rules he’d set for your time together you can tell he’s at least regretting it right now, stiff length brushing against your bare leg as you lift your knee to test it.

“Are you trying to make me punish you?” he asks, voice husky.

"I thought you liked it when I was a brat," you say, cocking your head.

Doyoung sighs, eyes half-lidded. "I do. But not when you're using it to avoid intimacy."

Your throat clenches, a hard knot forming in it you can't seem to swallow as your face gets even hotter.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“I think you know what I mean,” he continues. “It’s not like we both don’t have a habit of using sex as a distraction from anything emotionally challenging.”

You gape up at him in disbelief.

Of course you’d never been able to hide that aspect of your last relationship with him when he’d often been right outside the door. All of the F4 knew how many times your arguments with he-who-should-not-be-named-especially-not-while-in-bed-with-his-best-friend had ended in you shutting him up by any means necessary. Not that you didn’t enjoy it at the time–but rather you understood it wasn’t the most healthy template for a relationship.

"I thought this wasn't going to be about feelings," you blurt out.

“Proving my point.”

Doyoung tsks, tapping your cheek with his fingers–nowhere near a slap but just as effective, soothing the spot with his thumb. Soon he’s brushing your tears away when they inevitably spring up and you have to turn to hide their seep into the mass of pillows.

"If I wanted therapy I wouldn't be here, Kim Doyoung," you say, trying to bury your face in the piles of soft down.

“Shh, silly girl,” He gently pulls you out from hiding, soothing you with a warm kiss against your forehead when you stop struggling and let him hold you, releasing that surge of emotion and writing it off to hormones and the sting of rejection.

“You know I’m speaking to myself here, too,” he states softly. “Bear with me, I’m learning.”

"Do you even really like me?" you ask, face pressed into his chest.

It’s horrible to admit this specific insecurity but you can’t help it. Being abandoned multiple times in your life when you’d finally, finally let your walls down would damage anyone’s trust. You’d hoped this day with him would be easy and carefree and light, not dimmed by the shadows of your anti-romantic histories.

"I adore you, actually." He settles partially on top of you, leg wrapped over yours as he props himself up on his elbow. "Which is why I want to start this right. You wanted the F4 boyfriend experience. This is mine."

"Last I checked you’ve never seriously dated anyone," you groan, sniffling.

"Last I checked, neither have you."

Well, that connects. You swallow your fears, relaxing into the cage of his embrace, retreating a little from the vulnerability of being exposed.

"What kind of girlfriend experience were you expecting, then?"

A lazy smile gusts across his features. You can't help but find it a bit sinister after being handled so indelicately.

“I don’t always know what’s going on in that empty little head of yours." He accompanies his statement with a brush of his thumb across your flushed cheek, tracing your semi-parted lips in a way that sends sparks down to your core.

"I’d like to stop guessing and actually get you to let me treat you the way you want to be treated. Have you ever asked yourself what you want?"

You panic a little, considering his words. Living with disappointment had made this question a hard one to even consider.

"I just want a good time. Isn't that what you want, too?"

Doyoung seems to ignore your ask, drifting into a relaxed state against the pillows. His hand traces the hairline at your temple. "You know I worry about you. All the time, actually.”

His voice is lower, a little wistful, and it’s doing just as much as the slight brushes of his fingertips to make you throb all over again. A lack of sleep must have made him delusional, you think. This is not the Kim Doyoung you know.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

"Is that why you're always involving yourself in my business?" you ask, matching his tone in how breathless you are. You expect a quip, not the sincerity written on his face when he swoops in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, too fleeting to be anything but sweet and sincere.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time? It certainly wasn’t just to get into your pants. I want you. All of you.”

You're taken aback by his honesty. You'd always suspected his constant meddling in your affairs came from a place of interest but you'd never wanted to give him too much of a response–maybe a little afraid his fickle nature and fear of commitment would mean he’d give up on your friendship, too.

Another thing you knew about Saint Kim: he had a tendency to run like a frightened rabbit at the first sign of emotional neediness in his partners. You'd never given him reason to believe you expected anything from him, but you'd also stopped fighting him on giving you what he desired to give.

It wasn’t just presents or expensive experiences, of course. He’d found out quickly those weren’t welcome without some cajoling. No–his art was in knowing what you needed even before you realized it, nudging it across your path.

You’d figured out his deviousness after the umpteenth time someone was charitable at your little florist shop part time job, offering to fix your scooter in exchange for a nice arrangement for a proposal. As soon as you’d seen the fully restored bike outside and the customer didn’t return your texts you’d called Doyoung, completely unsurprised to find he was at the coffee shop next door, waiting to pick up his flowers.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you’d said. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“What makes you think I’m giving you charity,” he’d responded, dropping a department store bag and your own custom coffee order on the counter. “You’ll wear this when I come to pick you up tonight at closing, including the jewelry and perfume. I need you to play your part again. The flowers are a consolation for the heart we’re breaking.”

He’d enlisted you as his defacto “new girlfriend” for the more difficult separations, and though you’d gotten your share of a glass of expensive wine thrown in your face more often than he ever experienced it (his type always went after the easier target) it wasn’t like he didn’t have a replacement dress ready and a nice dinner waiting after you’d cleaned off the Chateau Lafitte Rothschild.

You have to face the fact that no matter how many times he’d treated you like his girlfriend, you’d never actually expected him to want you to be one.

“I’ve waited a very long time for this, Y/N. Which is why I want our first time together–alone," he adds quickly. "–To be special."

It's difficult to believe him but you're spellbound all the same, watching pink dust his cheeks and his ears turn a shade darker as he most likely realizes how ridiculous it is considering him fucking you senseless the other night with the help of two other men.

But you can empathize with his anxiety. Yesterday's Thai massage he'd arranged had helped you work out the flight or fight of anticipating being alone with him. It’s back now, but different. The way he's looking at you makes you feel infinitely naked, infinitely unlocked.

"What do you mean special?" you ask, wary, hoping to see some glimmer of uncertainty or falsehood in his gaze. You want to believe it's a lie or just some artful prank, trying to ignore your heart flip-flopping in your chest.

It’s a mistake to let him see you squirm considering it’s Doyoung’s drug of choice–his lips twist into another menacing grin as he plays with the charm on your necklace. Another of his little gifts.

"Do you think you can handle it?" Doyoung asks, dripping self-satisfaction. “Or are you going to chicken out on me?”

You turn over so he can't see your expression, realizing he’s throwing your own words from the night before right back at you.

"I haven’t decided if I want to date you, yet,” you say.

"Maybe not," he says. "But you'll have to pardon me for wanting to show you this good time you supposedly want while also treating you decently. Unless we're no longer friends?"

"We are," you say, biting your lip, "even if you enjoy torturing me."

"Torture?" He laughs, breathy.

"Metaphorically speaking."

"You have no idea, do you?" You can feel the edge of his glasses as he bites the place where your clavicle connects to your shoulder, his hand snaking around your bare middle.

"You could show me," you invite, mid-gasp, as your body responds to his long-awaited touch. His fingers are almost cool in contrast to the heat in the room, tracing circles in your skin that have you squirming.

"Is that a challenge?" he asks.

Why not?

"We don't have to have sex," you offer. "Maybe you could just–"

"Shh," he says, fingers skimming lower. "My terms. Are you going to stay quiet for me?"

You nod into the comforter, breath hitching as he touches you through the thin layer of your underwear, veined hand flexing as he molds the damp fabric to your body. It's such a delicate pressure but he's already memorized your shape, index finger sinking into your folds, gently rubbing a ring around your throbbing clit.

You're sticky and swelling with each pass, entranced by how good he is at teasing you, cherishing the way he sucks in his breath when he pushes into the indent of your hole.

“Doie,” you whine, leaning back into him, trying to get him to kiss you as he laughs into your hair.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, kissing your cheek and teasing the seat of your underwear where they're soaked the most. "You want to take these off?"

You shake your head, sensing it would be too easy of you to give in.

"That wasn't a question," he says, tugging down the band, leaving them trapped tight around your thighs. "I don't want you to wear them until I tell you that you can."

You feel your core clench at the way his voice cracks, his fingers sliding back up to slowly and delicately draw a thread of moisture from your bared slit. You whine a little when he stops touching you, bringing his fingertip to your lips.

"Taste it."

You let your mouth fall open, let him run it over your tongue, beginning from the middle and swirling over it.

"Describe it," he murmurs. "If I like your answer, maybe I'll indulge you more."

"Salt," you say, immediately.

He tugs your hair, making you meet his eyes.

"Have I taught you anything? I want specific notes. Flavors."

You're transported back to the time he'd taken you to your first (and last) wine tasting. Spitting into a bucket and being lectured about body and tannins and soil conditions was the last thing you'd wanted to do after an hours-long trip to a vineyard but you'd indulged him, allowed one glass of what he considered the only drinkable wine on the premises.

An unrefined palette, he'd called you.

"Fruity and floral," you make up. "A nice lingering finish. Want a taste?"

He looks down at you behind his glasses, equal parts amused and unimpressed. "Did you use the soap I asked you to?"

Your brain glitches at that. Had you? You'd been in such a rush to go out–

You gasp when he palms your breast, squeezing the meat of it through the breathable fabric of your matching bra.

"I'll take that as a no," he says. "I guess you're not ready."

He rolls off of you, leaving you in a lurch as you realize your legs are locked together by your underwear. You move to remove them, taking off your bra as well to avoid the awkwardness of being partially dressed.

By the time you're done you realize he's on his back, the hand that had been stroking you buried in his loose khakis.

"What are you doing?" you ask, more than a little pissed off at the sight of him masturbating as if you aren't ready and willing to assist beside him.

"Getting ready for our date. You can watch. No touching." He cracks an eye to look at you before closing it again. "Either of us."

"Are you edging me, Kim Doyoung?" Your menacing tone is entirely natural.

He hums a bit, working himself at a more punishing pace, knuckles peeking out from under his boxer briefs with each full pass over his length.

"Can't even look at me? Afraid you'll lose control?" You sidle down on the bed, beside his tensed thigh. You can smell a bit of the ozone on him from a morning in the sun, your knees knocking into his calves when you move over him.

"I don't trust you," he says, voice deeper than you've ever heard it.

"Is it touching if you finish on my face?" you ask when he finally blinks up at your presence, hovering over him with your breasts dangerously close to his clothed thighs.

"Absolutely not."

"Not touching–"

"Just. Watch," he orders.

He pulls himself free from his pants, surprising you with how dark and weeping his tip is as his thumb encircles it. Pools of white precum spatter on his lean, pale belly, your head dipping dangerously close–

"I said watch." He grabs at your hair, denied when you bend up again, showing him your dirty tongue.

He groans, fingers clenching air. "You were put on this earth to test me, weren't you?"

Still, he doesn't break his attention on the way you roll the drops you'd licked from his clean skin in your mouth, swallowing once you've fully enjoyed the taste.

"A little sweet you say," teasing him. "Drinking pineapple juice?"

"Brat," Doyoung says, but he's almost gone–eyes dark with desire, gently gripping your skull as you continue to ease in.

You're a master at following his lead, blowing a breath over the spot you'd licked, and then his length until his movements slow, cherishing the way you hold your mouth over his cock.

"If you can't give me what I want, then at least give me a taste," you say, sticking out your tongue in offering. You love the way he responds to the sight, needy and losing it when you hold eye contact, drilling into him.

"No," he echoes, weakly. He's too smart to push into your open mouth, instead driving his hips up to fuck his fist as you watch his glasses slide down his nose, eyes clenching shut.

"You're no fun," you say. "Just a little swallow can't hurt?"

"No. Don't want to ruin it," he says cryptically, making a choked noise as you brush his fingers with your nose and he has to pull you away.

"I promise you it . . . It will be worth it," he manages. His jaw clenches as his movements relax, finally in control of you both.

"It better be," you say.

You lower your lashes as your eyes flick between his cock and his face, stretching out your tongue to the point that drool begins to drip down your chin, splashing on his whitened knuckles and the tight stretch of his balls peeking out from his underwear. He bites his lip, breath holding as he starts to spiral.

The first thick rope of white rockets up his half-bared chest. Soon he's spurting even more, cum reaching his rucked up shirt, a little getting on his glasses.

He's so out of it he doesn't fight as you wrest out of his limp hold. You clean up the sticky mess on his skin with your tongue, his abdominal muscles twitching under the light flicks and drags.

"Want to give me some notes?" you ask, straddling him without resting any weight down, taking off his glasses. This time when you move to kiss him he rises weakly to meet you, lips parting to accept what you haven't swallowed.

In truth, he tastes wonderful. Coffee, a little menthol from toothpaste and a hint of the watermelon you'd shared earlier mix beneath the coat of his spend.

He licks into your mouth until you moan, your body throbbing with unfulfilled pleasure. You follow him as he sinks back into the pillows, enjoying having him at your disposal, your core leaving wet trails on his thigh when you brush against the fabric.

"I'm going to wait until you're asleep and use you if you don't help me get off," you threaten, pressing soft kisses to his slack face. It’s no use. Doyoung has passed out again, lower teeth visible as he snores softly, forehead sheened with drying sweat.

Fuck it, you think.

You ooze off of him to take your second cold shower of the day, and maybe get acquainted with one of the fancy showerheads in his massive walk-in while you use his special soap.

It's not–technically–touching yourself.

Your mystery destination isn't an unknown–it's in every tourist booklet and blog you'd skimmed before your trip, thinking you'd be on your own to find a good spot to traverse to. But it still takes your breath away the moment the car door opens in the sprawl of motorbikes and delivery trucks and Doyoung takes your hand to pull you into Paradise.

Pak Khlong Talat is a bustle of energy well after dark, the time you know its treasures are delivered fresh and unbloomed, wrapped in newspaper and steeped in crushed ice. For as far as you can see the market sprawls along Chak Phet road, but even more overwhelming than the sights and sounds is the scent.

Jasmine, roses, lavender. Thousands upon thousands of blooms strung up and tended to by night owl vendors, delicate arrangements hand-sewed by artisans streetside into garlands so well-crafted Doyoung has to tug you to keep you moving, onwards to some other unspoken destination.

"I was worried you might hate flowers after working with them for so long. I take it you like it?" he asks, indulging you when you ask if you can take his picture at a particularly lovely hang of garlands, the purple-blue light perfect for the film you'd loaded into your father's old camera. Photography had never been your craft, but after your dad had passed you'd made an effort to capture more of your memories, cherishing what you'd taken for granted before.

“It’s perfect,” you say, admiring him through the viewfinder. "But can you look like you're having fun?"

Your model is stiff, mouth a moue as he checks the street for other observers or a possible collision with a laden handcart.

"Fun?" Doyoung asks, and you snap his picture on the offbeat, enjoying his look of surprise.

“Like you've taken your date to one of the most romantic places on earth, after buttering her up with a night cruise of Chao Praya and finally letting her eat real food."

He sniffs at a fall of marigolds, a smug look on his face that you commit to film, right before he sneezes.

"For the record, we're eating after this. Som tam hardly counts as a meal, I just didn’t want that drink going to your head."

You're shepherded through the vast warehouse of the main market, to an adjacent street, and into a non-descript building painted in a funereal white.

"Are we even allowed to be here?" you ask, once the key code is entered and you enter the strange business.

"I called in a favor," he says, taking your hand, leading you up a metal staircase past a simple storefront of dried blooms and shelves laden with boxes and bottles alike.

An apothecary? An alchemist's shop? The purpose of the space eludes you.

"An atelier," Doyoung explains. "One of the most sought out in the world."

There's the distant hum of the city outside and a central air you're unused to in this climate but the upstairs is quiet–by all accounts either an office or a laboratory, or a mixture of both. The central working area is a chaotic but organized space filled with tables of glassware and dried floral arrangements contrasting potted orchids, small beakers of coffee beans littered amidst rows of labeled brown bottles.

"So this is how they make perfume," you say, inspecting a stoppered bottle labeled "Gerianol 10%".

"Not just any perfume. The best. Here." Doyoung leads you to a much less cluttered workstation, the desk arranged with the lights still on, a note detailing some instruction you can barely read before he slips it into the pocket of his slim-tailored pants. Beneath it is a notebook, scrawled with a perfect cursive English you recognize from the cards he’d included in boxes or bags whenever he’d bothered to claim their contents.

"Sit," he instructs. You think he means the comfortable chair but before you can sit down he presses you to the desk, caging you in.

"Sit," he repeats, hands on your hips through your slinky skirt, lifting you to the bench. You scoot back, carefully, the white blooms of some exotic flower brushing against your cheek until he can move the vase a careful distance.

"Do you understand what we’re doing here?"

You can't possibly know what he means, eye level with the graceful column of his neck and his exposed collarbone beneath his translucent button-down, drowning in the melange of scents but most especially his clean, neutral cologne.

"No," you say, honestly, heart beating fast.

He picks up a corked flask from some kind of metal scale, dipping a thin thread of paper into it to waft it a fair distance from your nose.

"Before we came here--before you even agreed to this trip–I sent instructions to my friend for a specialty blend of their creation. It took quite a bit of back-and-forth–I even visited here last month to take a private class and make sure we prepared the base and middle to your standards."

"For me?"

You feel dizzy, reaching out to take the sample and smell it again, his hand capturing your own before you can bring it too close to your nose. He wafts it for you, expectant as you absorb the details.

Indeed, it smells divine–exactly the kind of warm, bright notes that make your heart feel at ease. There’s something floral and citrus worked in, not too heavy, the finish leaving you with an impression of a lazy summer afternoon.

“It’s beautiful,” you say. “Did you make this to match what you knew I liked?”

"Yes.” Doyoung exhales, looking almost sheepish. "I had some references. That cheap shampoo you never stop buying, the Lush exfoliator with the orange blossom, even–" he shudders a bit– "that awful Chanel you doused yourself in, in high-school."

"Coco Mademoiselle," you say. "It's been years since I–"

"It didn't suit you," he says, standing up to sample another bottle from the neat row.

Something dawns on you, a distant memory locking into place.

"It was you," you gasp in realization. "You're the one who got rid of it. I should have known when you tried to give me that bottle of Jo Malone–"

“It had already turned. You need to store your scents away from direct light.”

“It was a keepsake!” There were very few possessions from your youth that you’d been able to hold onto–not only because your parents had been barely able to afford your school uniforms, much less gifts. What little you’d had was lost when your house was destroyed by the men your father owed money to, this small thing neglected in the destruction.

“It didn't suit you because it wasn't made for you," he continues. "You wore it because you thought it would make you fit in, when you should have made what you wore wear you–"

"Please, stop."

You have to bite your lip to the point of pain, remembering how excited you'd been to unwrap that tiny bit of luxury your parents had saved up to buy you, your mother sure the brand name would save you from another day of humiliation. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that the cutout ad from the magazine on your wall was for the model, not the actual perfume, but you felt loved by the gesture all the same.

Hundreds of thousands of won an ounce for it to only turn on your skin, well before afternoons spent on the basketball court under the thankless sun. That memento had aged from pink to a sickly rose unused on your cosmetic shelf, a totem from a time when you imagined yourself belonging. Before it had disappeared, like so many other things.

You can't remember the last time you'd worn anything, had never even gone near that section of a department store after the humiliation of being made fun of for smelling cheap.

“My dad skipped lunches and my mom worked double shifts to get that for Christmas my first year in Kocher,” you say. “Mira was the brand ambassador for that campaign, you know.”

Mira had been your idol even before you won the scholarship she’d established to attend Kocher. Perfect, beautiful, but most of all the first girl in their sphere to show you genuine kindness.

"It must be so easy for you," you say, wiping your face. You rarely cried these days but that memory was particularly painful, a reminder of how often you’d assumed Doyoung found you just as offensive. Not just your scent, you thought, but you.

Something to be tolerated. Below his regard.

"Whatever you want, you can have. Whatever you don't like, you can get rid of. I'm sorry, I don't live in your world. I can’t just throw something away when it’s not useful."

"No," he says, quietly, abandoning his explanation. "That was thoughtless of me. I can replace it–"

“Can you?” You glare up at him. “Is this what you really want? To dress me up like your perfect doll and feed me from your hand so I’m more able to suit you?

Doyoung looks like he's going to be ill, every design in his head unraveling before your eyes. You’d feel sorry for him if you didn't know this was a lesson worth imparting.

"Don't ever offer to replace what you don’t know the true value of," you say, voice trembling.

There's a weighted silence as he considers his next words. You still haven't slipped away from him, choosing to hold your ground. How many times had you been forced to be the antagonist in some fruitless class warfare, unresolved? But then you also had a habit of finding battles in peacetime.

You pluck the newest scent strip from his frozen hand and waft it between you, at the designated distance.

“Thank god this smells nothing like it,” you murmur. You offer him a wry smile, anger fading. “I couldn’t stand it.”

You feel Doyoung’s relief as he collapses against you, forehead against your hair as his arms wrap tight around your middle. You relax after a bit, cheek pressed to his collarbone as you breathe in his unique scent–a little like fresh laundry left out in the sun.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “All these promises and plans and stupid details and at the end of the day I really . . . Don't know what I'm doing."

"I really don’t know what you’re doing, either," you say. "But I like that you try.”

"You do?" The hope in his voice makes your iciness melt a bit. You let your hands twine around his neck, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease with the gesture.

“I know it’s not easy for me to admit but I do appreciate everything you do for me, Doie,” you say.

He doesn’t respond in words but you savor the shift in his demeanor, like a weight has been lifted from him. You think even he didn’t know it was there. You ignore the glassiness in his eyes when he pulls back, choosing to look at his notes instead.

“Are these all the ingredients?” you ask, working out a few of the more familiar words. “What’s op–?”

“First things first,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. "Did you touch yourself?"

"No," you say, surprised by the shift. "I followed your instructions. No products with scents. No underwear."

You spread your thighs to make your point. His hands hike your skirt up, over the breadth of skin to your hips and then to the curl of your belly, his breath hitching as he finds you already glossy.

It had been a bit of a gambit considering your riverside excursion but he'd allowed you a lemongrass-based repellent–the scent of which is still clinging to your bare skin as he kneels down to press a kiss to where his fingers had traced earlier.

You jerk a bit, conscientious of the workspace as he spreads you, just that light touch making your nipples harden beneath your thin shirt and bra.

“Are we allowed to–”

“Shh. Relax and try not to spill anything,” he interrupts, breath cooling your wetness. “I just need some inspiration.”

“What?”

"You’re so good already," he says into your sex, spreading you so he can lightly tongue at your skin. “Perfect little flower just for me.”

After waiting so long, you're torn between begging and shoving his teasing licks away, hand threading through his raven hair as the notebook slips from your hand.

"Kim Doyoung–” you gasp as he spears his tongue through your upper folds, nose nudging the sensitive bud. “–if this is another round of teasing I will murd–”

You yelp as he hunches down to wrap your legs around his shoulders, hands re-occupied by exposing you as you try to stay upright.

“Don’t worry. You can come like this. I want to know if you taste different after.”

You don't know what he means until his mouth closes over your clit, sucking just right. You jolt, pinched on the meat of your thigh until you can relax again, making little mewls as he rolls his thumbs alongside the point of contact.

“I want you inside of me,” you beg, feeling that fluttering sensation that heralds a build-up. “I wanted to come with you inside me.”

“Soon. Just need to be good while I sample you.”

“Sample?” Your hand sinks into his hair in panic, tugging, but Doyoung is too lost alternating between suckling at your sex and palpating you with a circling thumb, his beautiful hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread.

“Drip for me, first.”

“I don't think I can–”

“You giving up already?” Doyoung scoffs, smirking up at you with reddened lips, tongue-tip darting against your clit. Every brush of soft muscle makes you spasm a bit, belly tightening unfulfilled.

You shake your head, panting. “I just . . . Doie I want you inside me.”

“You can relax and take it,” he says, tongue wrapping around your labia, sucking slightly. Your head is buzzing, every stray thought removed by his exploration of you.

“Relax. If you don't I'll just have to try until you're begging for me to stop.”

“No, please, Doie. I'll be good,” you plead. “Just . . . need something inside. Hurts so bad being empty.”

“Hand me a pipette.”

“What?”

“The one that looks like an eyedropper,” he says, hand open to accept like he’s performing surgery. You fight to find the right glassware with his mouth still on you, efforts more focused and intense as your legs tense with each hit. You find the rubber-stoppered glass cylinder, stomach dropping.

“Is this safe?” You ask, gripping his mussed hair tighter when he pulls away for a moment.

“If you hold still, yes,” he taunts. You seize when you first feel the tip slip inside you. The glass is cool but warms to your body heat quickly, too slim to feel anything.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re even pushing this out, you must be so tight.”

“I am. Too tight,” you groan. “Please don’t tease me anymore.”

He ignores you, focusing on his work, pulling the instrument free when he’s satisfied.

“Not bad,” he says, dropping it on the desk beside you before he’s back on his knees with his nose buried in your cunt. “Bet you can do better than that.”

“No, please, I need you–”

“Then drip for me,” he laughs into your leg, tracing the wetness down the crease in your thigh. You tense your hold on the desk’s edge when you feel his tongue prod at your entrance, muscle breaching your hole to lick into you. He makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat that has you plummeting just as he resumes stroking your clit through the slippery coat of your arousal.

Finally, you think, feeling the advent of tears for how wound tight you are, how desperate you are to feel him give you just one more point of contact with the ache inside.

“Oh god, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you repeat, the noises obscene as he drinks you in, other hand on your hip to hold you against his face. It’s not even the stimulation that makes you begin to come but the audible groan he releases as he feels you quake against his mouth, heels snagging on his shirt when the first wave breaks and those little tics inside you turn into powerful contractions around his tongue-tip taking everything you can give him.

He keeps licking you even when you’re begging for him to stop, nose tracing down to catch a stray drop from the back of your knee with a playful dart of his tongue.

“Was it worth it?” you ask, folding over him as he wipes his mouth clean in your drenched skirt. You know it’s just the start but you already feel wrung out and feather-light, wicking away the sweat that’s beaded on your own face despite the cool, dry air of the room.

“Hmm?” he hums a bit, disentangling to stand up and hold your face in his hands. His pupils are blown, sweat beading on his temples, but he looks as satisfied as you hoped he would be, your arousal drying on his slender features.

“All the prep,” you say. “Isn’t that why–do I taste as good as you expected after all that?”

Doyoung looks down on you, amused. Already you feel like you’re heating up again, with how his dark eyes flit to your mouth and back up again.

“You think I prefer you prepped?” he asks, angling his head down besides yours to whisper in your ear. “The next time I eat that perfect little pussy of yours I want it to be filthy.”

He traces the lobe with his teeth for good measure, pulling another moan out of you. “I’ll even make sure to wait until the other two have a go at you, first.”

You feel your heartbeat stutter as he presses his lips to your pulse point, tongue darting past his lips to dab at the sweat there.

“No, precious, I wanted to make sure the perfume we make tonight matches all of you.” Doyoung’s nose brushes your ear as he breathes in your scent. “Every time I wear it I’m going to remember the way you sounded when you first came for me and me only.”

The promise of it has you feeling a different kind of heat, dizzying for how much you want it to last past this night.

“Fuck,” you whisper explosively, eyes clenched shut to stay fixed upright, fisting the thin material of his collar as he pulls you from the countertop and against the hard planes of his body. “I need you. Now. Please.”

“I like hearing you say that,” he chuckles a bit. “But I’m going to make you earn it. You can wait a little longer. You made me wait years, after all.”

You let him guide you into his lap, in the chair, pushed into the desk as he opens the notebook to another page. And another, until you take over and explore it for yourself. In the dim golden light from the street outside you catch glimpses of colors and drawings, notes written of impressions and memories you’d all but forgotten in your haze of grief these past few years.

There’s even photographs taped to some of the pages–ones you know well by the fact that they’d been taken on your camera. Doyoung didn’t have Jaehyun’s artistic training but he did have an eye for capturing candid moments.

November, your first year of college. You’re standing in the first snow of the season, catching flakes on your tongue. You can still feel the burn of them, hear the murmur of the city dulled in a fresh blanket of white and taste the roasted yam you’d eaten, tossing it in your mittened hands until it was cool enough to peel.

Doyoung’s shoulder is off-kilter beside yours, unable to capture himself in the frame for all his long reach. The peek of the striped scarf you’d knitted for him in gray and blue is all that’s visible of him under his peacoat, the mismatched weave of it captured even in this poor exposure.

“Base note: cedarwood,” you read, carefully, eyes hazing a bit with emotion. Evergreen.

“I still have it, you know,” he murmurs against your temple. “I only stopped wearing it because it started unraveling.”

“I’d make you another but I quit knitting after making three scarves,” you say, wryly. “Well two and a half, actually, I ran out of yarn on Jungwoo’s and made him a hat instead.”

“I thought you were just trying to get him to hide that ridiculous military haircut,” Doyoung muses. “Keep going or we’ll be here all night.”

“Now you’re impatient?” you ask, cementing your flirtation by shifting in his lap. You can’t ignore the feeling of his erection folded against the curve of your ass, or the way he grunts when you find a better seat with it nestled between your thighs.

“Sometimes I forget you were put on this planet to vex me,” he says. You’re lifted up by the waist, a hand on your lower back the moment you’ve found the desk for support, face above the book.

“Why don’t you try reading until I’m satisfied you know exactly what you’re getting?”

You don’t fight him, elbows bent as he rucks up your skirt. You feel your face grow warm with blood as you find yourself exposed to him again, locked in by his legs and his groping touch reaching up beneath your shirt.

"Base notes: amber and–" you have to fight to keep your voice steady as he swats your exposed curves, hard enough to sting.

"Ambergris,” he corrects, voice fried with delight.

“Ambergris,” you repeat. “And white musk."

"Good. And?"

"Bisabol–" you begin, corrected with another slap on your ass that hits, hard, glass jingling on the table.

"Did you jump ahead?" He asks, knowing full well your eyes are swimming with tears.

"No sir," you say. “I didn’t think that was a real word.”

"Opoponax." He says, reaching over you to grab a bottle, dropping a thick oil on you and rubbing it into your bruising skin. "Also known as sweet myrrh. Go ahead. Keep reading."

"Source: distilled from resin from ancient groves in Somalia, bought in Mogadishu from a local orchard, all profits to fund schools and clinics for women displaced by civil war."

"Do you believe this to be a charitable effort?" He asks, hand spreading over your buttocks. You think he might be referring more to your arrangement than whatever is written on the page.

"No," you say. Your history and political know-how might be lacking but you've seen the wrong side of kindness. "It sounds like what people write to make themselves feel better about exploitation."

"Clever girl," he answers. You feel his nose brush against your skin, testing the mingling of scent with it. "Keep going."

You turn the page, swallowing back your protests. This spread is rich with text and color, a veritable garden bursting from the page. You fix on the first entry in the upper corner, bracing yourself for another faux pas.

"Heart notes: Turkish rose," you say. "What is this, poetry?"

"Aren’t you familiar with it?"

You shake your head, lips pursed in delight at the scrawl of English. “No.”

You let out a gasp as he bites the flesh nearer your back, the sting of it surely leaving a mark by the way the pain lingers.

"Read it," he says, dipping over you for another bottle. “You’ll remember.”

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows," you dictate, stumbling over every word and yet never punished for it. Instead Doyoung lets a steady drip of the bottle fall down the back of your leg to your knee, his fingers bringing up the rest to mix what he's already poured on you.

"Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, with sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."

You end your recitation in a whisper, leather binding and paper gripped in your fingers as he massages the oil gently into your tingling skin, careful to avoid where your legs are locked together in arousal. You're heady with scent and sensation, awaiting some reminder that this isn't just a strange dream you’ve wandered into.

"There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, lulled in these flowers with dances and delight," he finishes for you as he paints the rest up your spine beneath your shirt. You let him ministrate on your body as the words settle, as time recedes and you face a version of your youth you’re not sure isn’t just fiction.

That book beside you, the first time he’d spoken to, long forgotten.

“Midsummer’s Night Dream,” you say, turning to face him again, settling between his thighs as he fails to meet your gaze. You lift his face with your fingers, cheeks indented by your gentle hold. “You remembered that, too?”

“It was the first time you ever looked at me,” he says. “And it felt like you saw right through me.”

No, you’re not dreaming. You’re the architect of this moment just as much as he’ll claim to be a cursory observer if confronted on it.

You take in his mismatched eyes–one folding a little more than the other when he smiles at you ruefully. Those freckles you’d never really spent time examining, a happy accident of the time he’d spent with you in the sun. His fingers catching yours for a moment when you weren’t paying attention.

But most of all, the haunted cast where he’d lost sleep managing someone else’s problems. When he’d still been worrying about yours.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t think I ever really saw you until now.”

“What didn’t you see?” he asks, expectantly.

Six years of his careful distance from you, that coldness and disinterest just another mask for someone who was as raw and vulnerable and real as you if you managed to pry open their shell. His tendency towards control, towards the knife’s slice of cutting you so cleanly from his life no one would know your name unless he spoke it aloud.

There wasn’t another human being in their right mind who’d last that test, your only grace being that he’d thought you were untouchable. His best friend’s girlfriend, of course. But beyond that, one of his best friends.

No, one of his only friends.

“What didn’t you see?”

It wouldn’t require money or taste or a family name to bring Saint Kim down to earth. Just time and small acts of resistance, like the beautiful shell remnants you’d spilled into his hands on that last trip to Maui together, when it had still been the five of you. Each ground down to a small disc with a perfect spiral at its center, a reminder of the beauty remaining in broken things.

You place the notebook in his hands, curling your fingers around his. The pages it’s opened to are sparsely constructed, besides the photographs nestled between. Only you two know what’s there, buried in black sands and blue waters. You can see his handwriting falter where he’s written the notes for this moment in your shared history, sketches of those shells, and flowers.

A single photograph of you watching the others playing in the surf, his shadow cutting across the stretch of your legs.

Top notes: Jasmine for sensuality.

Orange Blossom for innocence.

Plumeria, for admiration. a new beginning . . .

You recognize the creamy yellow-white flower he’d tucked behind your left ear when you’d fallen asleep beside him. A non-native plant to the island, you’d learned, worn to indicate one was taken. A weed, like you, now prized as a treasure.

“What didn’t you see?”

You pull back to look at him, giving him yourself without reservation.

“That I think you love me . . .” you say. “. . . Like I think I love you, too.”

He looks up at you, astounded, the chair beneath him creaking as he collapses.

For once you regret being beside him when you’d heard the same words spoken to him by other people, pulled into their lives without you ever remembering their names. The difference between you, you once believed, was that they didn’t mean it.

Now, you understand, they just never knew the true cost of losing him.

You watch him collect himself, running a hand back through his hair and curling into his seat, memories forgotten in his lap, bedamned. You’re sure the engines of Hell are running hot for the way he can’t even look at you right now.

He needs a way out, you think. You’d rather be drowned in other women’s wine poured over your head than be on the receiving end of his disregard again, the script already constructed in your mind before you’d found you had the nerve to sleep with him.

"You can be honest with me,” you say. “Tell me it's been fun but you're not interested in a relationship.”

“What?” Doyoung is just as confused as when you’d told him you loved him, as honest as you’ve been in both sentiments.

“Your family will never approve of me. I’m just another fling you happened to take a more lasting interest in. It’s better this way. Cut me off, forget about me and move on.”

It's his turn to balk. You expect his pre-programmed response. Saint Kim's gospel for turning down the interested but uninteresting party: deflect, dissuade, detach.

“No,” he says, face draining of color.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I can handle it. Really. We can still be friends.”

“No,” he repeats, more forcefully.

“What do you mean, no?” you ask. “Isn’t that how this always ends?”

“You stupid girl,” he says, grabbing your face in his hands so you can’t escape, making you look into his warm gaze.

"Don’t you get it? This was always about feelings.”

When his lips crush against yours you don't have to speak to respond, catching his head so you’re not suffocated by the raw emotion you can feel in every movement. You return each kiss until the breath is out of your lungs, until you're drowning in his scent as he forces you back onto the desk.

You’re impatient to feel him, everywhere, aware you’re ripping buttons as you open his shirt to gain access to his smooth chest, trailing kisses as far down as you can go, still unable to escape his tongue sliding over yours.

“I wasn’t going to do this here, like this, but fuck it,” he says once he’s free, fumbling with his belt as he holds you to pepper your face and neck in a steady reminder of his affection. “I need you.”

“I need you, too,” you echo wholeheartedly, helping free him out of his clothing, pulling his length to where you’re still slick with oils and cum and ready for him. God, you think you’ve never been more ready to break around him, to show him what he’s brought out of you with this game.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore,” you whisper.

You watch his face, breath held and heart stuttering as he sinks into you slowly, both of you gasping at the way your heat resists each measure of his continuous thrust. It feels like he’s barely in you when he stops, making you moan in dismay.

“Doie, please,” you say, trying and failing to wrap your legs around his slender hips to capture him deeper. You’re half out of your mind with that burning weight inside you remaining still.

“Say it,” he says, taking off your shirt to have access to your skin. He pulls down your bra, nipples tugged between his fingers as he assaults your neck with his tongue and teeth.

“It’s special,” you choke out. “Thank you, please–��

“Say it,” he corrects, twitching inside you but not moving an inch more. He curls down to nip at your breast above the lace, sucking a mark into the softest part. “Without the ‘I think’.”

“No,” you resist, realizing what he’s asking too late. Your nails sink into his half-bared shoulder, head rolling against his. “You don’t get to torture me for that.”

“Don’t chicken out on me now.” Doyoung laughs against your cheek, hand splaying around your hip to still your squirming. “I can do this as long as it takes.”

He thrusts, just a little more, making you cry out in desperation as the contents of the desk tinkle behind you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “You think I love you?”

“So, so close.” He pulls out, rocking into you again to feel the seize of your entire body when you anticipate just how far he’ll go before denying you. A little more, at least, and you can feel how much it’s taking for him, see the strain in his body as he holds back.

“You love me,” you tease, this time not a question, no you think. “Saint Kim loves me.”

He sheathes himself in you fully, gripping your nape to kiss you as you clench involuntarily around him, protests in the back of your throat muffled by his tongue sliding across yours. He tugs at your bottom lip when he breaks free, fully smiling now like he isn’t buried completely in your cunt just warming himself instead of chasing his own bliss.

“What did you call me?” he asks, leaning over you to retrieve something.

You take advantage of his distraction to snake a hand between you, slipping beneath your skirt before it’s grabbed, tight, and brought up to his lips.

“Don’t cheat,” he says, wrapping your fingers around the cap of a bottle.

“You never heard anyone call you that?” you murmur, opening it.

You smell spring flowers and delicate citrus before it’s taken away, set aside when you nibble and suck at his sensitive ear to make him twitch, hands drifting across his ticklish belly down to his hipbones. He reads your intent again, stopping whatever silly task he’s doing beside you to lift your wrists to his shoulders.

“The name is a little ironic, isn’t it?” you say, squeezing him experimentally with your thighs as you stroke his nape with your nails. You flex other muscles too–earning the grunt he makes as he feels you squeeze around his girth.

He angles your head, pressing something wet and soft to where your pulse flutters in your neck. You’re immediately permeated with a light, airy, sweetness, the different scents revealed like a melody that ends in that richer, warmer scent from earlier.

“Is that my perfume?” you ask.

“An anointment,” he says, blowing across your skin to dry it and sending a shiver down your spine to where your bodies are locked together, that fullness and muted pleasure of him radiating down to your toes.

“I do seem to have a demon inside of me,” you sigh into his neck as you rest your head against his shoulder. “Do they do that in exorcisms?”

“Blessings,” he corrects, adjusting with another grunt. “We’ll find out if it worked in about an hour.”

“An hour?” you grumble. “You think you can keep torturing me that long?”

“I think I gave you the key to your own cage,” he says, checking his watch. “About five minutes ago. Does it feel like longer?”

You mumble something into his rumpled collar, making him laugh beneath you. Even just that tiny movement has you involuntarily gripping him, abdomen clenched.

“What’s that?”

“I’llsayitifyoumakemecome,” you repeat, embarrassed enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck again.

“You think this is a negotiation, Y/N?” Doyoung’s hands are back on your breasts, thumbing the areola in slow circles that are very much a reminder of his touch earlier on your throbbing clit. You whimper, trying to stay still so he doesn’t figure out that if he continues to do that you might have a chance–

“You trying to make me come squeezing me like that?” he asks, breath ragged. “That seems like a quick way to end this.”

“You . . . you could just fuck me,” you wheeze, feeling the way he teases your pebbled, hard nipple with lighter brushes, his mouth quirked where it’s pressed to your forehead.

“What if I want to make love to you, instead?” he asks. He inhales sharply at your body’s response.

“Fuck, you liked me saying that, didn’t you?”

You nod, unable to speak, holding onto him in desperation as the combination of his words and soft strokes make you melt into the pleasure of every small motion of him inside you. You realize he’s unconsciously pushing into you, too, unable to keep his hips from pressing into yours.

Overstimulation is making you hyperaware of the scratch of his unzipped jeans against your burning thighs, the random brush of his open belt against your belly. Time seems to disappear as he holds you quietly, letting you soak up the fragrant, radiating warm reality of him.

“I can wait all night for it,” he threatens, even just his lower register making you quiver a little around him. “Count every time you twitch and moan on me until you break.”

You’d felt him flag a little while he worked but now he’s fuller inside you, stretching you wide as he twitches to life. It’s even hotter than all of this build-up, you think, knowing he can act a menace but that the idea of you surrendering to him is what’s really getting him off.

Of course, you think, mentally steeling yourself like you’re preparing for war. In a way this is something like it, up against as formidable a foe as he is.

“Doie,” you whisper, threading your hands in his hair as you nuzzle for his lips, kissing him softly and intimately, like it’s your first time. “When did you know?”

“What?” He goes a little rigid against you, unable to hide his rapid heartbeat with how close you’re pressed to him. You blink up at him, expectantly.

“When did you first know you loved me? Really?”

He smiles, shyly, but you see the hint of anxiety on his features beneath his arousal. There it is, you think, having to hide your own satisfaction.

“Is this a trick question?” he asks, warily, eyelashes half-lowered.

“Not if I know the answer,” you say, smoothing his kiss-swollen lips with a touch. “I don’t think it’s in that book, either.”

“Really?” He’s intrigued, a tentative rock of his hips against you making you dizzy. “Tell me.”

You shake your head, just as playful.

“I’ll tell you later,” you say. “After.”

He sighs explosively, nose wrinkling. “You don’t know.”

“Want to bet?” you ask. It’s always a little thrilling seeing Doyoung presented with an opportunity he can’t resist. He fumbles for the notebook beside you, almost slipping out of you when he has to reach even farther for a pen.

“Write it down,” he says, smug as a cat who’s caught something small and easily toyed with.

“Only if you do, too,” you say.

His answer is a pained sound of agreement, adjusting himself against the desk.

“No peeking,” you say, flipping to a page in the back.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing the book before the nib of the nice pen touches the creamy paper. “What are the terms?”

You ponder for a moment, feeling a grin slide onto your lips. “Doesn’t our perfume need a name? Whoever is right, gets to name it.”

You can practically taste his delight as he leans in to kiss you, forcing you to pull your page closer to you. You make him wait, filling the blank space as best you can with detail as he fidgets between your legs, sending small shocks of pleasure through you both.

“Thank you,” he says in earnest once you’ve handed him it open to a new leaf, his hand and the notebook shaking a little as he tries to write mid-air, finally resting it awkwardly atop your head in order to scrawl out his own answer.

“My eyes are closed, Kim Doyoung.”

“You’re a cheat,” he says, shushing you with an added thrust of his hips.

You settle back on your elbows, already enjoying your victory as you feel the tiny pressure of his handwriting, hear the scratches of his sketch. You're more emboldened than ever when the leather binding snaps shut.

“Now tell me,” you say, looking up at him coyly.

“Can’t I just show you–”

You snatch the book from him, turning to your entry. Then, to his horror, you rip your page free and fold it shut, tucking it into the pocket of his open shirt.

“Tomorrow morning,” you say. “You had 24 hours, right? I’ll give you my answer tomorrow morning.”

Doyoung looks as if he’s tasted something sour. “You won’t tell me.”

“I’ll tell you that you won,” you say, looking down at his page. You trace the fresh ink with care, admiring his tight script and explanation. “February to April? How could I have guessed an entire season?”

“Did you at least guess the year?” he asks, looking a little better for your affirmation of his win.

You nod, finally feeling the discomfort of your position and resting your head against his warm chest. There’s nothing awkward about being wrapped around him like this, the late hour and strange, still space making it easier to forget the world outside.

“Hard to forget,” you say. “I thought for sure I’d never see you again after that winter holiday.”

Another break with Johnny, of course–but this one had been your choice. You’d finally felt the crushing weight of two years of contempt from the people around him, the Suh family matriarch at the center of it all, doing everything in her power to crush not only you but the people you loved.

And then, when you’d needed him the most, Kim Doyoung had walked away from you, too.

“I didn’t think I’d see you, either,” he sighs. “It was the first time in a long time you weren’t with us. With me. And it was my fault for pushing you away when you were just trying to–”

“It’s in the past now,” you cut him short with a finger pressed to his lips.

The memory is painful, still–and you don’t want to sully this moment with it. You appreciate that even in his roundabout admission there’s a clear understanding for all you’d been through. You’d hoped he remembered that time from the past, when you’d first peered between the cracks in his carefully-manufactured facade.

Now you could be sure of what it meant to him. You feel like your own walls are crumbling, the light shining through.

“So you chose the period of time when we didn’t speak to one another, at all?” you muse. “Not just one day?”

“You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he says. “You were on my mind every minute and every hour of those three and a half months.”

He pauses, sigh warm against your brow. “I couldn’t tell you when I knew, for sure. I certainly couldn’t admit it, then, even to myself. But sometime then, I realized I cared more about you than a friend.”

You’d never doubted he was capable of it, never doubted it might be true. But hearing him admit it, now you know why he wants to hear it from you, too.

“Say it,” you say.

He finally looks at you again, tired but alight with amusement.

“You first,” he says.

“Who knew three simple words would be so difficult for Saint Kim?” you tease him.

“Alright. Come here,” he motions, slipping out of you with a shared groan. He pulls you to a couch under the shuttered window, settling down and forcing you to straddle him. In this position he can’t stop you from immediately taking all of him, his eyelids fluttering when you bottom out.

“You feel like heaven,” he murmurs.

“You’re not going to last,” you laugh, delighted by the way his nose scrunches when you clench around him.

“Says the girl who’s sucking me in like you never want me to leave.” He grabs on to your hips to roll them against his own, fingers tightening when you wriggle against him. “You’re gonna say it first even if I have to fuck it out of you.”

“Whoever comes first, then?” you offer.

“I can live with that,” he sighs, head resting back on the couch.

You rock on your knees slowly, satisfaction warming you throughout as you force him all the way inside you. You let him hear how he makes you feel, pleading sounds and whispers every time he hits that place in your upper walls, curved inside of you perfectly. It doesn’t matter if you're in control you can’t help but hunt down that lovely rush of pleasure in your belly, twining your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Good girl,” Doyoung praises, watching you in awe through half-lidded eyes. “You’re so beautiful. I always wanted to know what it would look like when you lost yourself with me.”

His words make you shiver, brushing his lips until he holds you against his mouth to show you how he likes it, less exploratory and more confident. It’s maddening how good he is at this, making you feel every single sweep of his tongue across yours, hand on your neck keeping you from escaping.

“Don’t you want to–” you protest as he helps you to lay flat on your back across the length of the wide loveseat, settling between your thighs.

“Oh god, Doie,” you whimper when he takes over, finally, finally, beginning to fuck you. It’s just as slow but at least he penetrates you fully before pulling out almost all the way, shoulders quaking as he holds himself up.

“Promise me you'll let me dote on you for the rest of your life,” he says, not waiting for your response before driving into you again. His movements are barely controlled, grunts escaping the back of his throat when his hips snap into yours again.

“I promise,” you hold onto him, back arching off the cushion to meet him, blissed out in the relief of each, careful stroke against your fluttering walls. That crescendo is happening whether you want it to or not, every overworked knot of muscle threatening to snap loose.

“Promise me that no matter who you fuck you’ll always let me treat you right,” he says, voice breaking. “You’ll let me show you how I feel even when I can’t say it.”

“Yes, Doie. Yes.” You pull down on his shoulders, trying to move for you both, kissing his jaw and throat.

“Stop fighting me and take it,” he says, moving more easily with the thick coat of your cum, establishing a gentle rhythm.

His voice has always made it hard for you to pay attention to anything else but he abuses that power now, murmuring guidance into your neck that has you tightening around him as he fucks you deep and slow.

“That’s my girl,” he praises. “You’re taking me so well. Take all of me.”

You feel shivers up and down your body, nipples hardening tight as they brush against his chest, his hair tickling your forehead as he blindly kisses and licks at your mouth and chin.

You’d thought he’d be concentrating on something else in his head to keep from losing himself but instead it’s you who's floating, breath captured in your lungs when he adjusts on top of you to pin your hips down, pressing your leg wide to bury himself to the hilt.

“You feel so perfect. I could really do this all night, you know,” he smirks down at you from where he’s supported on his elbow. “Is that what you want?”

“No, fuck, please,” you whine. There’s no thoughts in your head besides just how much you want that ache inside of your cunt to melt into real pleasure.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, feeling how you begin to pulse around him as he swirls his hips up into that most sensitive part of you, his flat belly grinding into your clit. You gasp, leg locking around his, helping him work you apart.

“No no no,” you beg, face hot. “Just . . . just kiss me through it, please.”

Doyoung’s smile grows wider. “Say what you already told me.”

You twist your head against the cushion, earning his hand on your jaw as he makes you look at him while you break, kissing you between panting breaths. His confidence is written in the cocksure grin remaining on his mouth, more cruel when he bites at your bottom lip, hard, before licking the pain away.

“Say it,” he breathes, slowing down on purpose.

“I . . . ah,” you cry out, “I love . . . please don’t stop.”

“What’s that?” he asks, pace punishingly slow. Your legs lose feeling, vibrations starting in the back of your thighs and tremoring down to your feet.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you repeat, nearly tipping off the edge, “I’m coming, I’m finally–”

He slows down right as you hit that crest, making you cry out in frustration.

“Doie, I’ll kill you–”

“Say it,” he says into your lips, pulling out–too far–

“Iloveyou,” you exhale, seizing around him in time to your wildly beating heart.

“Louder.” He slams into you again, merciless.

“I love you, you stupid bastard,” you say, hanging on to his shoulders. “I love you!”

“Good enough,” he says, drilling into you until he can feel you break, orgasm sustained through the painful pressure of him losing himself in your throbbing heat, finding your mouth again, finally, to silence the repeated mantra on your tongue.

You kiss him fiercely, unloading everything words aren’t enough for, legs tied around his waist to keep him locked inside you until he’s fighting back, fucking you so hard the sound of it fills the quiet room.

“I love you,” you repeat a final time for him, just to watch the way it makes him break, jaw slackening when he loses control, finally.

He stutters into his own orgasm, teeth scraping against your locked lips, forehead pressed into yours as he empties inside you for what feels like forever, finally collapsing on top of you with a whimper when his arms give out and he’s as limp as his cock inside you.

You scrape your nails across his scalp, soothing him. You don’t mind his weight, or the way you’re still pressed together with sweat and your combined spend.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he rasps, eyes dazed as he looks up at you.

“No,” you say, shaking your head tightly. “Not for me, at least.”

“You’re not mad?”

You know he means his inability to say the magic words but you crack a smile, just as pleased with yourself.

“About the bet?” you ask. “No.”

Oh, it’s delicious seeing realization dawn on his face, little glimmers of surprise and horror bubbling up from his afterglow.

“Fuck,” he says. You’re grateful he doesn’t deny it, rolling to the side in defeat.

“Who told you? ‘Woo?”

You laugh softly, rolling over to pin him down with your leg, trapping him against the back of the couch.

“You did, right now,” you say, relishing having him where you want him. “I had a hunch. And I know you, you’d never beg for someone to say something during sex–”

“I didn’t beg,” he corrects, grimacing.

“What was it? The first one to get me to say it? Bonus points if it’s on your cock?”

“Ah, well,” he says, perking up despite the fist pressed to his forehead in embarrassment. “Then you don’t know.”

“I’ll find out soon enough, Jaehyun wouldn’t–”

“You’re really not mad?” he asks, painfully reticent as you pull his hand away from his face and twine your fingers together.

“Not if it means I can use it as leverage,” you say, kissing his knuckles.

That doesn’t seem to surprise him, at all.

“Good girl,” he says. “What do you want?”

A few years ago, give or take

You’re a little too happy, an awful fact considering how much he'd missed seeing you this way.

Lately you’ve been sleepwalking through your life, all those tiny fractures and bruises finally having the time to mend–but healing is a painful process in itself. Doyoung had returned from his family’s formal Chuseok gathering in Singapore, eager to check in on you after receiving sparing responses from you via text.

You didn’t have a friend he could check in with instead any longer–not after that one girl had fled the country, the other ghosting you after their father was mysteriously laid off from a company he well knew did business with Suh International.

He’s worried about you long before that, terrified that one last straw would break you even if by all indications you were strong enough to take it. After you’d had Johnny arrested and solicited a no-contact order you’d cut your ex off completely, moving to a tiny apartment far from where you’d grown up, changing your number.

Only Jungwoo knew about it, and it was he who’d reluctantly offered your whereabouts to him after a few glasses of whiskey in their usual club.

“She asked me to keep her info on lockdown. Got that hacker kid, what’s his name–Haechan? Wiped her socials off the map, so he can’t find her. He did good but you know Suh.”

Doyoung nods. They hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, probably because the idiot was combing through every civic office and apartment building in the city. Hell, he’d probably driven around until he found her by sight alone, knowing that animal wouldn’t rest until he knew her whereabouts, as stubborn about chasing her down as he was about refusing the F4’s help.

“His mother called me to ask if the place he bought in cash was for her,” Doyoung says, knocking back his drink as he receives a text, heart sinking that it's not you. “Did you help him buy it for her?”

Jungwoo sighs. “No. I just got her rent halved with some coercion, you know? But then he goes and buys a unit in the same building with whatever stash he thought the Old Tiger didn’t know about.”

The Devil Kim leans back, long legs akimbo as he gestures towards the server for a refill. “He’s waiting for her to go back to Chicago before he moves in. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I did not,” Doyoung affirms, turning away from the group of women at the bar sending looks towards their private table. “Let’s plan for when Madam Suh leaves. I can have her pull him into the London offices, considering he’s failing his courses.”

“Stone cold,” Jungwoo says, smirking. “Glad I’m not on your shit list.”

“Just don’t fuck with her,” Doyoung says. “Or fuck her.”

Jungwoo laughs into his glass. “Even I’m not that stupid.”

He’d thought he wasn’t, either.

Not until you’d called a few days later, your speech a little slurred. He couldn’t have told you if what he was doing was important even if he was in a meeting, showing up to find you picking at a bowl of bar snacks in what he thought might be one of the nicer bars in your shitty part of town. Not as shitty as your old neighborhood, but it wasn’t a competition.

“Saint Kim,” you’d heralded him, raising an empty glass still smelling of watermelon and hibiscus.

“You shouldn’t be drinking alone, here,” he’d said.

You were dressed in one of your few nice outfits, a little on the revealing side for his tastes, but those had been Johnny’s you’d conformed to–animal print and thin straps, tastefully tasteless.

“I wasn’t,” you say, hiccuping. “Alone.”

For the first time in a long time fear spikes his blood pressure into overgear. Were you drugged? Was he going to have to fend off another predator who'd found you vulnerable?

You deserved the chance to move on but there was a real threat in what would happen to anyone who approached you without their permission. Johnny’s, yes, always, but the F4 had also agreed to look out for you well before your last incident at a club.

“Who?”

“She left,” you say. He feels instant relief, reaching out to adjust the thin coverup slipping off your bare shoulder.

“You make a new friend?”

You shake your head. “She’s nice. Met her in one of the ikebana classes work is paying for. Thought we were hitting it off but I must have said something dumb because she ran out of here, fast.”

You look up at him cautiously, too inebriated to realize he can recognize a set-up before it begins.

“You didn’t just talk about your ex, did you?” he asks, settling beside you at the bar. He orders something less ridiculous than whatever you'd been drinking, while you scroll through an Instagram feed, finger trembling over the screen.

You look up at him, color-stained lips curving in an easy smile. “You want to see what we’re working on?”

Doyoung finds himself looking through a grid that is immediately obvious is not yours. His mouth goes dry, seeing rows of beautifully-staged floral centerpieces, the backgrounds as familiar as the back of his hand. You don’t seem to notice, going to the user’s story and tapping in vain to find the picture she’d posted.

“She deleted it already. Huh. Well, she texted me the picture–”

“Stop.” Doyoung places his hand over yours, his palm damp from the immediate flood of adrenaline.

“So you do know Mona,” you say. You look up at him, expectantly, eyes glassy with the brand of hopefulness and naked curiosity he’s seen you charm everyone else around you with before.

“She’s the one, isn’t she?”

Doyoung pulls cash from his pocket, not caring how much he puts down except that he’s sure it’s enough to cover the amount he’d like to drown himself in right now. Enough to go blind and burn out the phantom of that face he’d put behind him years ago.

“Put your coat on,” he says. “I’m driving you home.”

“But I’m not–”

“Now,” Doyoung says, grabbing your wrist. He’s barely ever touched you in the years that you’ve been friends, and it sickens him when he feels you freeze in fear and confusion, that trauma response buried so deeply it's in your bones.

He wants to be kind, he wants to be patient with you. He just doesn’t have it in him to be anything to you right now.

“What’s wrong, Do–?”

“We’re leaving,” he says, dragging you out into the bitter cold evening, the streets slick with sleet, your heels catching on the pavement as you stumble in his wake.

“Stop,” you yell at his back, trying to yank your arm free from where he’s bruising your skin with whitened knuckles. “You’re hurting me–”

“You’ll live,” he says, pulling you to where he’s parked his car, the engine roaring to life the moment you manage to close your door. He can barely look at you, realizing too late that your crestfallen expression is making him more upset than the lightning strike of seeing her name again.

“You didn’t ask my address,” you say, quietly, met with his silence as he drives much more dangerously than the weather permits. He's forced to speak with you once he's slammed the brakes at an intersection, red light shading you through the windshield.

“Tell me one thing,” he says. “Did you try to set us up by having me come there?”

You’re petulantly silent now, an answer in itself.

“Answer me,” he orders, hands gripping the wheel.

“I thought you’d want to–”

“Do you think we have the kind of relationship where you can just do whatever you want and get away with it?” Doyoung’s voice is calm but he sees you flinch at his words and tone, your shoulders moving under your jacket as you begin to quietly cry.

It drives him deeper into anger, hitting the gas with a roar of the engine the instant the light turns green.

“You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself for this one, Y/N,” he says, already regretting every word tumbling out of his mouth. “You fucked up.”

“I just thought you could both have some closure after that–”

The car jerks as he brakes in the side lane of the service road, cars roaring past them honking their horns. Your sobs are barely audible over the idling engine and the blink of the hazards he turns on while he tries to find calm, your face turned away from him.

“You thought that interfering in other people’s personal lives would make you feel better,” he says. “No wonder you don’t have any real friends.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see your full body shakes still, can feel as that armor encasement you’d put together piece-by-piece over years of dealing with loveless reality falls back into place. And, years later–no, even hours later–he’ll remember how at the time he was stupid enough to think it was the right thing to say.

You needed a reality check, he’d thought. A reminder that all the wishes and hopes in the world wouldn’t change the bleak architecture of it, uncaring by design and much easier to navigate without them. That moving on was the only path to this idiot’s dream of closure, something you knew nothing about for how often you’d let them pull you back into their world, blinded by sunk-cost and loneliness.

All the things he wished he believed for himself, but without the benefit of your optimism.

“Fuck you, Kim Doyoung,” you say, opening the car door and slamming it shut without so much as a glance behind you. He’d waited to make sure you reached the nearest bus stop before driving off, calling Jungwoo to let him know you were here–crying in the cold.

He'd seen you in passing.

His best friend knew a lie when he’d heard it, most especially from him.

He wouldn't hear from you again until spring.

Kim Doyoung can’t sleep.

He’s not allowed to.

He can’t move either, arm going numb beneath your curled body, your breathing finally easing for the dozenth time since his trial began. You have horrible sleep habits–kicking off the covers, stealing the pillows–but tonight you’ve passed out with that same bone-deep tiredness he’d felt earlier, face beatific in the slivers of light piercing through the slatted shades.

It’s close to dawn, he thinks, the cacophony of insects and birds outside transitioning from a quiet chorus to a full orchestral suite. Soon it will be too loud to sleep deeply.

“Y/N?” he whispers, tentatively, not daring to move.

You don’t respond, relief rushing through him. It’s not that he’s desperate to join you in slumber but that he’s waited for you to finally surrender to REM. He needed you down.

And you needed it, too.

He’d negotiated with Jaehyun when you’d been in the shower, earlier, sacrificing precious moments of shared time exploring your skin and the new taste of you under the water to supplicate himself to his best friend and worst enemy in this moment.

“It’s a charter,” Jaehyun said, blinking sleep from his eyes but awake enough to be angry. “You’re not finding another one short term.”

“I emailed you the tickets. Cattle car but first class, at least,” he says. “Jungwoo agreed to give you his day, he doesn’t want to take her out until after dark, anyway. You can sleep in tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Jaehyun had slammed the door shut in his face, but he hadn’t missed the budding smile on his friend’s face. At least one person was rooting for him.

That’s how he’d earned another morning with you. As always, making up for lost time.

You’re half out of the covers, one leg sprawled over the duvet as you sleep. You’d put on one of his softer button-downs, inhaling the smell of it after he tried to steal it back.

“Please let me wear you,” you said. “I want to dream about you.”

Being around you like this is more comfortable than he imagined, as if you’re being slotted into a position he didn’t even know there was an existing space for. He’s woken up to women in his bed but you’re the first who’s ever asked him for this, particular experience.

“I used to have this fantasy, you know, whenever we crashed at your apartment.” He’d watched you go sheepish recalling, dates omitted for a reason. “Sometimes I’d lie there and touch myself thinking about you crawling into that guest bed–maybe a little drunk or you’d forget which room. Or maybe, you just wanted me to think that. I’d be awake but I’d pretend to be asleep while you . . . used me.”

He experiments by tracing his fingertips up your bare leg, the peek of your lace underwear beneath the hem of his shirt maddening for how it curves into the crest of your ass, presented for him. A treat dangled before him, the command to partake only that you wanted him to make it slow–you wanted to wake to it.

He sucks a breath in, erection in his sweatpants hard against the band already from just watching his sleeping beauty. He finds every mark on your leg, every fine hair, thanking Heaven above you aren’t overly sensitive or ticklish like he is when his hand slips beneath his shirt to your belly.

He slots himself against you, carefully, as if adjusting in his sleep. He has to wait for your breathing to even out again, slipping his free hand up to your breasts.

“Used you? Did you not get off in this scenario?”

“I mean, yes. But it’s mostly about you. You wouldn’t say anything at all, you’d just fuck me full of your cum and then you’d leave me leaking it on your sheets and go back to your room. Or sometimes I’d crawl in your bed, if you were alone, and you’d cover my mouth so the others couldn’t hear it. And the next day it would be like nothing happened, you wouldn’t even bother to ask how I’d slept.”

He loved how much of a slut you were, when you felt comfortable enough to share that side with someone. Johnny had certainly never appreciated the subtleties of your nature–too blinded by adoration to even consider degrading you on purpose.

No, Doyoung had known for awhile you pushed the boundaries with him to see if he’d break.

Your nipples harden even though he’s barely handling them, discovering what shape your breasts make in repose as he tries desperately not to rut into the swell of your ass. Warming himself in you earlier had been one of the hardest challenges he’d faced but it had been worth it to learn you inside and out, to know how to make you grip his cock with that delicious little cunt of yours with just a kiss or a word that pleased you.

You don’t wake but he knows he’s gotten through to that little lizard brain of yours when your legs rub together unconsciously, pushing back into him so his cock is settled between your buttocks. The friction from the lace is like the proverbial pea under a mattress–rubbing against his cock through the layers, catching on the veins and scraping the underside of his cockhead.

It’s already a nice ache, one he ignores as he adjusts to better continue plucking and teasing at your body beneath your shirt, until you’re used to his touch enough to truly fall back under, once more.

You're so vulnerable, completely at his mercy as he brings his hand down to test the patch of moisture growing in the fabric, that lace sticky with your dreams of him.

Use you, he thinks. You have no idea what he wants.

Doyoung can play with the fantasy of you crawling into your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed while he’s passed out in the other room, determined to be punished for waking a sleeping monster . . . but it’s not what he's fantasizing about now.

He takes time in stroking you, a single finger digging in between your lips through the fabric, listening intently for your breathing to change. You sigh, one of those full exhales one does in their deep sleep, but you arc back a little, into his touch, leg falling forward crooked so you’re a little more spread.

Doyoung wishes he could move down there and use his nose to push you apart instead of his hand but that’s not your fantasy–not this time. You didn’t want him to spoil you anymore, completely underestimating his love for it. True, he didn’t often eat other girls out, too personal or just too much of a chore to figure out what they liked, but you weren’t ever going to be with him and not come from that first.

Just the thought of tying you up so he can spend hours fucking you on his tongue is making his cock pulse, too hard to be ignored. He quietly pulls down the drawstring of his sleepwear, freeing himself so he can replace his finger with the much wider tip of his cock, biting back a groan as he rubs into that damp, soft lace he’d known would suit you the moment he’d touched it in the display box brought to his private buying room.

You'd never know he’d already fucked himself with it before ever giving it to you, that errant fantasy of touching you finally realized as you whimper a little in your sleep at the soft push of him between your legs. He finds where your clit is getting just as swollen as the rest of you, bouncing against warmth and the promise of unspooling that need with his help, again.

Just his precious little cocksleeve, spoiled and worshiped, showing your gratitude by begging for it even when you’re unconscious. He tests the waters of the scenario by slowly pulling the seat of your underwear to the side, easing in between the fabric and your folds.

You twitch against him, sheets rustling. He holds still, cock jumping and balls tightening with a little anxiety.

He only has this one chance.

Outside in the dark and quiet of the house sleeps the man everyone knows you’re really with, the one who doesn’t have to fight for an I love you to pass your lips. You’d never understood what it felt like watching you climb into Jaehyun’s lap whenever the whim took you, pretending you didn’t know what it did to him or the other two of them watching you.

Your breathing is shallow and your hand flexes a bit, against the pillow, but that’s it. Within a minute he’s grown more confident that you’re still asleep.

He reaches over you, pressing the pads of two fingers against the front of your underwear while he slips a little deeper between your legs, eyes almost rolling back in his head at the contrast between the satiny slide of you and the rougher cling of your panties. It’s a relief as he loses himself to it, rutting from the back while he applies constant pressure to your bud.

“Mmm.” You make a soft noise, but he doesn’t pull free, choosing instead to keep a hypnotizingly steady pace fucking against you. Your hips twitch against him, seeking out more contact, but he doesn’t rush–pressing his head against the back of yours and melding with you in the softness of the pillows and sheets.

You’re so wet you’re soaking his pants, everything he collects tickling down to his balls pressed into your ass. He’s going to stuff your mouth with his fingers, when you finally open it, make you gag on them while he fills you full from behind.

You moan now, voice syrupy with sleep. He doesn’t care if you’re still down, not with you gently pushing back, trying to get release.

Not yet, you little harlot, he thinks, hips going still again. He’s burning at the wait, your cunt continuing to glide against him as you act out whatever is going on in your dreams, the movement making him insane for how closely it adheres to his desire to have taken you back when you were innocent, his little virgin weed learning what her body wanted, seeking it out in his bed.

“Treat me like one of the girls you don’t really like. Use me.”

Such an unending fantasy of yours that he never wanted you, almost sweet for how dumb you are–or just willfully ignorant. He’s always liked the second one better–your little game played out that you were one of them. Dressed in that school uniform, kicking your skinned knees, sucking on a piece of candy while four college-age idiots hid their bathing-suited boners under their robes, fighting or fucking around in front of you so you could keep up that precious little illusion of immunity.

“Johnny,” you murmur in your sleep.

It should make his blood run cold but as with all twisted-up and tangled desires it only makes him feel ignited, pulse pounding in his head. You’re still asleep and thinking of someone else, someone not even in this house, the guilt of it passing over him faster than a cloud on a breezy day.

He rocks back into you, this time pulling out enough that he can find your soft hole, already tight again–the only part of your body not relaxed as he forces his way past the flutter of your opening, cockhead sensitive enough to sense the more textured g-spot where he knows you’ll come fast and easy if he fucks into it.

“Shh,” he says, finally trailing his mouth against your jaw, pushing into you softly. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” you reply, nuzzling into the pillow, curling into him. He pushes a knee between your legs, folding you into the bed beneath him as he begins to fuck you, finally taking you for himself and himself alone.

You’re so warm inside, body adjusting to take him easily for how boneless you are, kitten-like mewls muffled by the pillow. It turns him on hearing the edge of pain there, the way you struggle when he pulls your underwear up so tight it sticks between your folds, clit rubbing against it the way he’d stroked himself to completion with it tied tight around his cock.

“Stay quiet or I’ll stuff your mouth full instead,” he whispers against your shoulder, feeling as always a little stupid but losing that internal cringe when you choke on a moan.

“Is that what my little slut was dreaming about? Gagging to tears on another man’s cock?”

He feels you tense at a bit at the suggestion, letting him use you in spite of the rougher handling.

“That’s right. You said another man’s name in your sleep. Do you think that's acceptable?”

You shake your head, whimpering.

“Such a whore you can't keep track of who's dick is inside of you. Tell me, who's fucking you right now?”

“Doie,” you say, music to his ears. He'd always hated the nickname until you started using it. You were the only one–you were always the only one who made his chest burn with unsated desire when you said his name.

“Who owns this tight little pussy?”

“You do,” you gasp out.

“Are you going to forget me? Maybe I need to fuck you so hard you only think of me when you spread your legs for another man.”

Doyoung feels electric at how easily you begin to crumble with just a few words, squeezing his dick so tight when he says something you like, even more when he makes it hurt.

“Sleepy baby going to let me stuff every one of your holes until I’ve had enough? Use you like my own little doll?”

You nod, no longer capable of speaking except in a plaintive moan when he leaves you to shuck off his pants and pull down your ruined panties, pillow pulled beneath your belly to force your ass up. In this position he can drill into you deeper, burying you into the mattress with each thrust.

“That’s what you get for crawling in here,” he says, fingers digging bruises into your hips to hold you down. “Keep your mouth shut and take it.”

The pleading, almost scared noises you're making have him hard and pulsing, two steps away from coming himself but in no hurry to. He pulls your hair to bring your head back, shoving his fingers in your mouth.

“You like that?” Your cunt can't hide it, sucking him in. “Get them wet for me.”

You drool over his knuckles, gagging as he fucks your mouth with them in an awkward rhythm to his merciless rutting. He spits into his hand when he's satisfied, fingers swirling around the tight rim of your ass so quickly it makes you buck.

“Don't scream,” he murmurs, giving you two fingers at once. You make a noise through the pillow you're biting, gripping him tight. He's gentler with this, slowing, letting you adjust to take him.

“This is my favorite, right here,” he groans. “Feeling my cock inside you with my fingers. I'd fuck this tight little ass again but I want to feel you come like this.”

He begins to stroke you harder, deeper, wet and sticky when his balls slap against your abused cunt. He keeps his fingers buried in you, scissoring you open as you take it.

“Come for me, Y/N, grip me good so I can fill that pretty mouth of yours.”

It's a beautiful feeling when you begin to throb, contractions in your ring of muscle letting him know when you hit your peak. He fights the tingling in his balls, the urge to come with you painful for how long he's been holding it back.

He talks you through it, instead.

“Such a good little hole,” he says. “You're coming so hard, baby, can feel it so well.”

You moan, loud, as you break, loosening almost immediately, flooding him with sweet, hot warmth. He makes sure the last of those tics is gone before pulling out.

“Roll over,” he says, straddling you with a hand on the headboard, delighted by the sight of your flushed face and starry eyes. You already know what to do, tongue lolling and uvula exposed as he guides himself into your mouth, soft tongue swirling around his tip.

God help him he's been thinking about this since yesterday, pushing deep enough to gag but not choke, fucking your mouth and the hot tightness of your throat when he hits it. It’s the sight more than anything that drives him to spill hot white ropes of cum into your mouth, pulling out to milk the last few splashes on your parted lips and delighting at the sight of you licking them with your spend-covered tongue.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, dropping down and kissing you, finally, tongues stroking each other until you finally pull free to breathe, blinking up sleepily at him.

“You do taste different,” you tease.

“I taste like you,” he says, pressing soft kisses all over your face. “My sweet, sweet girl.”

“Did you like that?” you murmur.

“I loved–” he pauses, watching the smile spread on your wet lips.

“I love you, you know,” he finishes. You reach around his neck, comforting him out of instinct, but he doesn’t need it.

“I love you,” he repeats, testing the words on his tongue now that they've flown out so easily, the tightness in his chest easing as you rise up to kiss him.

“It's beautiful to hear you say it,” you say. “But you're right, I know.”

“I think I even know the exact time and date,” you say, reaching between you into the pocket of your shirt to pull out that torn and folded art paper scrawled with your words and an amateurish sketch.

Tomorrow morning . . .

[Unknown number] [Tomorrow morning April 13th dawn is at 6:17] [I have something to show you. Meet me on the roof of the East Wind Hotel]

Doyoung looks at the text message again, hand hanging over the railing of a dance floor, conversation with the woman by his side forgotten. With the blur of a late night and a trip to a different hotel room, with a different woman, he'd almost missed it.

Probably one of the innumerable flings he's had, Jungwoo recruiting him to get every last lick of enjoyment out of Seoul before he enlisted. His friend snatches the phone from his hand.

“No business,” Jungwoo slurs, eyes bloodshot as he focuses on the text. “I thought you weren't working hospitality anymore.”

“It's not . . .” There's something nagging at him, like a bird pecking at his skull in time to the drone of the EM, the buzz of conversation. A sense of deja vu so strong he's forced to cycle on it.

“Pfft. I know you don't bring girls back to your kingdom,” Jungwoo says. “Stop working and party.”

Doyoung doesn't know why he feels compelled to see the cryptic message through, doesn't know why he races across town at 5 am, reeking of whiskey and another woman’s perfume, doing his best to sober up as the designated driver talks about the change in weather, the cherry blossoms in full bloom outside the window.

The morning commute is already surging and the destination central to the city so by the time he makes it he's out of breath from running two blocks away from a jam, head pounding.

“ . . . restricted for non-guests,” someone is saying, voice recognizable as an intern he knows from his leadership program, still stuck on night front desk duty.

“I just need a few minutes, please. I need to take a picture–” He'd recognize that voice in a hundred years if he hadn't heard it, not just a hundred days.

“What's going on here?”

You freeze, shoulders stiffening as you turn to face him. Not much has changed–a new haircut, same ratty old sneakers–but you look different. No longer a ghost, but just as untouchable for the skittish way you hold when he approaches, only the barest relief on your beautiful features.

You don't smile, don't even say hello.

You're scared of him, again, just that thought making him spiral.

“You came,” you say, exhaling. “We need to hurry. We need to get to the roof.”

Doyoung turns to the staff. “Is the roof access still shut down?”

“Stair access only, sir.”

Your eyes go wide at the interchange, something like embarrassment passing over your features as you begin to laugh.

“Of course this is your hotel,” you state, smacking yourself on the forehead. “Of course, why didn't I think to check that. God, I'm an idiot.”

“We didn’t change the name when we acquired the chain so it would be unlikely for you to have guessed that,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“There's no time and it's easier just to show you. We need to get to the roof, now,” you say, grabbing his wrist and tugging on it towards the stairs.

“Y/N,” he says, holding you fixed and pointing at the elevator. “We can take it up as far as we need to.”

You're still laughing maniacally twenty floors up. “I was going to cry if I had to go up another flight of stairs.”

“Are you really taking pictures?” He asks, gesturing at your camera.

“No, but I started carrying it the first time someone called the police on me thinking I was going to jump,” you giggle, wiping away tears. He feels delirious from lack of sleep, so maybe you are, too, but it doesn't seem to be the case as you spring out the doors, forcing him to guide you when you're lost in the executive suite hallways.

“I managed to sneak in last time, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten this far. I'm glad you came just in time, I think they were going to kick me out.”

He's surprised at how easily things have snapped back into place between you, no mention of anything that's happened as you race up the stairwell to the roof access.

“Will you tell me–”

“Oh thank god,” you say once your through the heavy doors and collapsed on the green helipad, growing impatient when he props the door open out of habit. He's been up here many times, nothing remarkable about the space besides the legacy sign on top, view crowded by other buildings at varying levels.

“Stand here,” you say, pushing him into place, turning him by the arms. “Do you see it?”

“I don't even know what I'm looking for,” he says, beginning to grow annoyed.

“Look over there, at the People's Bank. Relax your eyes, it will only take a minute.”

He feels increasingly foolish but he does what you ask, cool morning breeze clearing his muddled head. The sky is washed in a pink and blue haze, the sun cresting the more mountainous region of the city behind you to bathe the city in solid gold.

“There,” you breathe, letting out a little sigh.

“What?” All he can see is a few birds passing over the vista of crowded advertisements and neon.

“Do you see the light?” you ask.

“There's tons of lights–” he begins, cut short by the blinding catch of the sun's reflection on one of the characters, then another. He spells it out slowly, guided by your hand holding his to each one.

The bank: Sa.

The next building over, also burning brighter with the touch of the sun: Rang.

Then an advertisement that has been up long enough most of the original message is lost. Hae.

“How did you find this?” he asks, knowing it would be impossible for him to have ever seen this without knowing the trick of the light.

“I didn't find it. Well I did–I had to search some buildings for it.”

Later he'll find out you climbed close to fifty flights of stairs in the last two months, had spent every waking moment not working or in school breaking into buildings before sunrise to find that exact spot, forever amused at the thought you hadn’t checked his family's flagship hotel first.

“You don't remember getting the same message from someone else?” you ask. “I was worried you wouldn't come, again.”

Again. Something tugs the memory up from the oubliette he'd locked it into, Mona teasing him about sleeping in and missing their appointment.

Mona.

His stomach falls, checking back behind him at the door as if that particular ghost will return to haunt him.

“She's not here. I wasn't trying to set you up,” you say, recognizing the dismay he can't hide. “Honestly. And I know whatever closure you find is yours and yours alone. You were right about that, too, I'm sorry.”

You twist your hands in front of you, suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. “I did this for me. Because I wanted to know what she tried to tell you, even if she couldn't say it aloud.”

You don't look at him, can't in order to continue. Doyoung feels like a live wire, exposed, two months of painful loneliness and a lifetime's worth of avoidance of this fact all surging through him in this moment.

As much as he would prefer to leave he's not going to run like he did back then, when he'd ignored the hard parts to pretend like a friendship wasn't something more. Not with the stakes of losing this one.

“You once told me you were just friends, even if you couldn't be one anymore for her after you realized you loved her. How it broke you to be with someone you couldn't be with, who wanted something different.”

“Now you know. She didn't want to stay one, either,” you say. You look up at him nervously, regaining your confidence.

“I just wanted you to know that you were loved, Kim Doyoung. You still are.”

You turn away towards the door, pretending not to have seen the tears dripping down his face under his glasses. He ignores them, too, not knowing what to say or do to make sure you never leave him again.

The spot never mattered to him, the word and it's confession forgotten in time. What changed that day was having you in front of him after so long, the way you were a reflection of him so many years ago, fighting to be by the side of someone who didn't know how to love you back, the right way.

He'd promised himself than that even if he couldn't say it, he'd show you.

“Thank you for coming. I'm sorry for interfering with your life, but that’s what friends do.”

You'd almost made it to the stairs when he'd wrapped around you from behind, the first ever time he'd held you in an embrace, unsurprised to find you shaking like a leaf as he rested a wet cheek against your hair.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “Thank you.”

You relax a little, squeezing his hand. In that small gesture everything is reset, everything is okay again. They won't talk about this for the next few years, even when Jungwoo asks how you'd come back into their lives so suddenly and without any indication that things had changed.

But they had. Deeply.

“You can make it up to me by buying me breakfast,” you say, smiling up at him, wiping his cheek with your sleeve. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Did I win?” you ask.

Doyoung can only laugh, giddy, as you burrow into his side to smother him in kisses and teasing. You were put on this earth to challenge him, after all–always right there to match him in stubbornness and competition.

He presses his nose to your neck, inhaling the remnants of the scent you'd made together, one bottle for each, though you didn't have to know his formula was just a bit different.

“‘Tomorrow Morning’ has a nice ring to it, I suppose. It lingers well.”

“It was my answer, actually. I needed to see if I could break Saint Kim's vow of romantic abstinence before I made up my mind,” you say, smug as you move to get up. “Glad you were able to find out before your time was–”

You shriek as he pulls you down again, pinning you to the bed.

“I still have a few hours,” he says, voice dangerous. “I'd like to hear you say it again.”

#kim doyoung x reader #kim doyoung fic #kim doyoung smut #nct smut #doyoung x reader #doyoung smut #doyoung fic #nct x reader #nct fic #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct djj fic #nct dojaejung fic #nct djj smut #nct dojaejung smut #nct f4 au

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thepixelelf · 1 year

Text

the only way to get a good sleep

genres: established relationship, fluff!! pairing: reader x seokmin words: 1.3k warnings: none :] notes: this is for elv @seokmins day! ((it's technically a recast of an old fic of mine so I'm just praying you haven't read that one shhhhhh))

Seokmin misses you lots n lots.

Seokmin hasn’t slept in days.

That’s an exaggeration, of course, but any sleep he’s gotten has been fitful, restless, and generally not a good time.

He never really thought you’d be a catalyst like this. You only moved in two weeks ago -- some of your boxes are still sitting unopened in the living room, waiting for you to unpack them. The closet and dresser space Seokmin freed up for you remains half empty, since you were both too lazy to fully move in, more focused and elated on the fact that you’d finally done it. Seokmin had taken weeks, no, months to finally ask the question, and the way you’d answered so easily (with a smile, a laugh, and a hug) made it seem like all his worrying was ridiculous. The move was stressful, and cancelling your rent with your previous landlord was a nightmare, but the fact that you to would be together made Seokmin see everything through rose-tinted glasses. He didn’t care what he had to go through as long as you shared a home at the end of the day.

Of course, you two had slept in the same bed many times before you moved in, but somehow this was different. In the past two weeks, Seokmin swore he woke up already smiling, simply because you were there; beside him; living with him.

But since you left two days ago, he hasn’t slept a wink.

He knows you’re not gone forever, but still, he just can’t force his eyes to close; his breath to even out; his mind to rest. And he doesn’t know when exactly you’ll be back, either, considering your impromptu trip back to your family’s home wasn’t planned at all.

His mind wanders to the last message you sent him.

[my moonlight] miss you too, my sunshine

He lies still on top of the bedsheets, eyes trailing along the bumps and ridges of the ceiling. Sleep won’t come tonight, either -- he can tell.

Maybe he should call you. Last time he tried that (the night before), it got him about an hour of light sleep before he woke up again, but at least it was something. He needs to work tomorrow, and he isn’t sure he can keep his eyes open there after three nights of tossing and turning.

Sitting up, his hand wanders along the bed looking for his phone, which he picks up and detaches from its charger. It’s midnight already. Should he risk waking you up?

Well, he knows you have your phone on silent most of the time, so if you are asleep, he won’t be bothering you. He’s got nothing to lose.

The dial tone rings in his ear twice before he flops back down on the bed, his other hand coming to rest upon his stomach. After another two rings, he almost gives up, but then your voice makes an appearance, and he smiles.

“Trouble sleeping?” is the first thing you say. You really know him too well.

“Yeah... it’s just not the same without you.”

Along with faint footsteps, he hears your quiet laughter through the speaker. “You cheeseball.”

“I mean it,” he says, and he does. “What are you up to?”

“Are you asking me to talk until you fall asleep?”

His smile widens, and he knows he should be trying to keep still in order to fall asleep, but he can’t help it. “Only if you’re willing.”

“Well.” Something dings around you. “As much as I’d love to lull you to sleep, I need you to do something for me.”

“Hm?” Seokmin perks up, his interest piqued.

“I got you something,” you say. “It should be at your door in, hm, twenty seconds?”

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, still holding his phone up to his ear. His lips purse in confusion.

“How’d you get it up here? Deliveries go to the lobby desk.”

“Oh, I have my ways.” Somehow, Seokmin can hear your smile. “Just open the door.”

Knowing you, Seokmin simply complies, leaving the bedroom to reach the door to the apartment hall. He’s a bit too tired to understand much, but he knows anything from you is worth getting out of bed for. After fumbling with the chain lock, he finally twists the doorknob.

You stand just beyond the doorway, your phone held up at your ear and a bright smile on your face.

“Hey stranger.”

Too tired to comprehend what’s right in front of him, he still speaks into his phone. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back.”

You humour him, talking into your phone as well. “I wanted to surprise you. Did it work?”

He nods. “Uh huh.”

When he sees you laugh and hang up, he glances at his phone to do the same, still awestruck to have you standing there.

“C’mere you big softie, I missed your hugs,” you say, opening up your arms.

Seokmin smiles again and swoops in to wrap his arms around you. He relishes in your warmth, a smile against the skin of your neck -- which he knows you can feel. Slowly, he closes the door behind you and waddles with you through the apartment. It’s awkward with the way he clings to you, but he doesn’t care. He takes you all the way to the bedroom, flopping down on the bed with you squished underneath, and his heart flutters at your laughter.

“What’s this?” you tease.

“You were gone too long,” he says instead of answering, and you laugh again.

Despite your playful words, you soothingly pat the back of Seokmin’s head as you speak. “Well, it’s not every day your kid sister dumps her fiance.”

“She’s not a kid anymore.”

“To you, maybe,” you counter. “To me, she’ll always be my kid sister.”

Seokmin hums into your skin, already feeling the effects of holding you in his arms. He’s insanely tired. Still, he cares enough to ask, “How is she?”

“Heartbroken.” You sigh, a frown on your lips that Seokmin can guess is there rather than see it. “But she’ll get better. She’s strong like that.”

“Mhmm...” Seokmin’s eyes are closed -- have been since falling into bed with you -- and he’s starting to drift off. Before he can fully lose himself though, he lifts up on his elbows so he hovers above you, a drowsy smile on his face. He dips low, meeting his lips with yours in a soft, lazy kiss. You reciprocate at the exact same level, simply pursing your lips and not asking for anything more. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you say, closing your eyes to kiss him again.

Seokmin can’t say which kisses of yours are his favourite; he thinks he may get a new one every time. Whenever your lips are on his will be his favourite, he thinks.

He presses his forehead to yours, mirroring your wide smile with one of his own, eyes drifting shut once again. Collapsing on top of you, he hugs you tight, ready to fall asleep right then and there atop the covers.

“Seokmin,” you whisper, kissing his temple and twisting so you’re on your side. “I need to brush my teeth.”

He groans; hugs you tighter.

You laugh. Your hands move to push him off, though you put no real effort into it. “I gotta change too, sunshine. I’ll be right back.”

Propping himself up again, Seokmin opens his eyes to meet your sparkling ones.

“Hey,” he says. He kisses you again, and your smile persists.

“Hey.”

You reach your hands up to cup his cheeks, grazing your thumbs over his skin as if to test that he’s real. He loves when you do that.

His lips meet yours; soft, warm.

“You wanna get married?”

“Mmm...” you hum in a sleepy daze. Your hands pull him down for yet another kiss, this one lasting longer, though still as sweet and slow as the others. When you retract, you wrap your arms around his neck and whisper in his ear, “Can I brush my teeth first?”

Seokmin sleeps better tonight than he ever has before.

part two: How to Harvest Sunshine

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throneofsapphics · 8 months

Note

PLEASE DO A PART 3 FOR SOME QUESTIONS ARE BETTER LEFT AVOIDED 😭 my heart can't take the angst 😂

some questions are better left alone, part 3

Rowaelin x f!Reader

(part one) (part two)

Summary: “I was going to ask ‘is it really my home.’” The words felt like poison on my tongue.

The silence was audible

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: dark/manipulative aelin & rowan, angst, sort of toxic relationships

A/N: this one took a dark turn. I’m sorry this took so long! It’s been sitting in my drafts for ages because I’m not sure how I feel about it! but I've kinda started a part four

“You need to explain.” Her cousin frowned. She’s the only one I trusted to send the summons. So, I told her about the conversation with Aelin.

“Gods, you’re so dense sometimes.” She cursed.

“Excuse me?” My voice grew shrill.

“Did you bother asking her what she meant by it?”

I frowned. I hadn’t, I knew exactly what that meant. She made it obvious. Aelin and Rowan were having doubts. This was the easiest way to remove myself from the situation, if a bit sneaky. But, my cousin didn’t put anything specific in the summons, only that she needed me there - urgently, as soon as possible. She’s sent letters before, but never anything like this. The rest of my family thinks it’s a surprise visit and that my cousin didn’t deign to inform them she needed me here. At least my story would hold, if Rowan and Aelin asked a few extra questions.

“She answered too quickly.”

“What if she meant something else?” She snapped at me.

“What the hell else could it mean? ‘Are you having doubts.’ ‘No.’ It’s clear enough to me,” I hissed at her.

She stood with narrowed eyes, arms crossing her chest, and her ‘no-bullshit’ look on her face. “I think you’re a coward.” She tilted her head. My jaw dropped. “In the gentlest way possible.” She frowned at the hurt look on my face. “Maybe some extended time at home would be good for you.”

Silver started to line my eyes, and I urged the tears not to spill. Not now, not when I was trying to hold my ground. But, she crossed the room and tugged me into a hug, and the floodgates opened.

It had been a month. They received a few letters from y/n, all vague in nature. Of course, they understand why - it’s her cousin's business, not theirs. Still, it unnerved them. She’d never been gone this long before, and the summons was vague enough as is. They didn’t have any clue why she was gone, what was happening, and when she would return. Slowly, it was driving Aelin mad.

Then - Fenrys seemed to avoid any conversation regarding y/n. At first, she summed it up to him missing his friend, but as it continued over the weeks, something tingling inside her told her it was more. Aelin trusts her instincts, they’ve served her well in the past.

“What do you know about y/n, that you’re not telling us?” She got Rowan to ask the question - maybe she would’ve been a bit smoother with the delivery, but she didn’t want him to think she was using the blood oath.

“Are you asking about her drinking habits?” He drawled, leaning his chair back on two legs.

“About why she’s gone.” Rowan said through gritted teeth. The weeks had worn him down too.

“A summon from her cousin, wasn’t it?”

Rowan growled but Fenrys looked on with wary amusement.

“Is there a reason she would want to leave, for an extended period of time?” Aelin cut in. She was sick of it.

“I imagine a family emergency would do that.” He cocked his head, and said it with an edged chuckle. She could read him well, he was hiding something.

“Besides that.” She hissed.

Fenrys’s lips pressed in a tight line. “She was having doubts. At one point, after your conversation.”

“Anything else, did she say anything else?” Rowan cut in this time, his eyes gleaming.

“No, she wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

Because if it … if it could cause some sort of pain to her, he’d feel obligated to tell her. She exchanged a glance with Rowan, knowing he’d come to the same conclusion. Aelin changed the subject quickly, and Fenrys looked relieved.

With each passing day, I couldn’t decide if my instincts made me crazy, an idiot, or right. My cousin refused to comment any further, telling me it’s something I needed to figure out. I focused on spending time with my younger cousins, the family I rarely got to see. A part of me aches to go back, tugged at me to return to them, but another said to stay - to be with my family and court. I’d been there long enough that my mother started hinting at reinstating my position. A conversation I carefully deflected.

“Why haven’t you returned yet, you’ve never been separated from them this long?” Her father asked over dinner, taking a sip of his wine.

“Not that we don’t want you here, dear,” her mother interrupted, shooting him a nasty look, “but we heard it’s painful to be away from mates.” Her parents were deeply in love - not a mating bond, but it might as well have been.

I sagged in my chair, letting my fork drop onto the plate. My mother frowned at the noise, but didn’t lecture me on it.

“I’m … I needed some fresh air.” I tried to explain.

They each exchanged a look, and by the haze in their eyes I knew they were mind-speaking. It runs in the family.

Hello. I budged into both of them with a grin. My mother glared,

It’s rude to interrupt private conversations. I grinned at her, and pulled out.

“Are you in trouble?” I watched my fathers fist tighten around the steak knife, his knuckles whitening.

“No,” I shook my head. Not the sort they’re thinking of. The only real danger, at this point, seems to be coming from my own mind. My swirling thoughts, the overthinking, the unending cycle.

“Do you wish to move back?” My mothers voice was gentle, soft. A complete opposite to her normal curt tones and cold corrections.

“I don’t know.” I finally gave them an honest answer - one that held the most truth. I don’t know what to do, what I want, or where to be. I pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping to head off the upcoming headache.

“Considering the Queen and King of Terrasen have requested to visit, you have about one week to figure that out.” My eyes widened. There she was. I saw the wicked glint in her eyes. She’d known this whole time. “They didn’t tell you?”

“Gods-damned it.” I cursed, avoiding her question.

“Language,” my Father corrected half-heartedly, a pitying look in his eyes. They’d already granted the request, without telling me or asking for my input. Not even informing me they received one.

“Of course we’ll have some official meetings and negotiations to attend to.” My mother waved one hand, elegantly. “But it’ll be good for you to reunite with them, after all this time apart.”

I ranted to my cousin later. “I know she means well, but it still feels like a stab in the back.”

“Your mother has always been … tricky.” She said carefully, not wishing to speak ill of her.

“You mean a sneaky cold-hearted bitch.”

Her pause indicated her agreement. “Who means well,” she emphasized. She’s the one who heavily encouraged my acceptance of the bond in the first place.

“I know she does,” I sighed, flopping onto the couch, cradling my head between my hands. My mother always means well, and gave us the best childhood she could. Teaching us new things, taking us to see new places, and training us from the day we were strong enough to hold a blade.

Still, there was always a coldness to her - some kind of lingering pain or trauma. I asked her about it a few times, and the conversation was always shut down - abruptly, but elegantly.

“Why didn’t they tell you about it?” She sat down next to me, with a lot more poise.

“That’s the real mystery.”

The week went far too quickly, and the entire court was buzzing. Aelin and Rowan were living legends, even here people love to tell their stories. This entire court loves them, always so happy about the relations between them, and always willing to tell me just how grateful they are - like I have something to do with it. I do, in a way, but those relations existed before my relationship to them.

They threw up all of the fanfare, even for a short visit. Only three days. Everyone expected a charming public reunion. I could put on that show - part of me did tug towards them, and always will. Still, a sense of doom settled over me. They hadn’t written to tell me they were visiting, and it felt off.

Everything went well. I was excited to see them, my reaction genuine. I stayed out of the meetings - the official business going on. I couldn’t be an unbiased party, and in all honestly they bored me to tears. I was a bit disappointed Fenrys wasn’t there. His absence did feel … pointed.

That night, after dinner, the world crashed around me.

As soon as I showed them towards the suite set aside for them, Rowan locked the door behind him, leaning up against it. Danger, my mind seemed to sing to me. Danger, danger, danger.

“We know what you did.” Rowan’s voice was blunt, cold even.

“Excuse me?” I raised an eyebrow, forcing my heart rate to remain steady.

“You ran.” My eyes darted to Aelin. “And you’re coming back with us this time.”

My eyes widened, slightly in shock. I could tell she meant it. “And if I wished to stay longer?” I tilted my head, watching how Rowan’s eyes flashed with anger.

“It’s been long enough.” He grunted, dismissing it. “You need to come home.”

I opened my mouth, before shutting it. The words that almost came out of my mouth, Is it really my home? Those would … I don’t want to think of what they would do.

“Say it.” Aelin hissed, taking a step towards me. I held my ground. “Whatever you were about to say, spit it out.” Rowan took another step with her. I bit my bottom lip harshly, rolling it back and forth between my teeth. Flames danced at Aelin’s fingertips - angry flames. Not the soft, gentle ones I’m used to. I stumbled back, nearly tripping over the table. A small breeze of wind and they were extinguished. A threat.

“Go on.” Rowan warned. “Don’t make her say it twice.”

“I was going to ask ‘is it really my home.’” The words felt like poison on my tongue.

The silence was audible. “Yes,” Aelin said thickly. “It is.”

I felt her hurt - and Rowan’s resounding anger. Anger at me - for the hurt in Aelin’s voice, the hurt she’s feeling because of my words. Gods, what have I done?

“Tomorrow morning,” he growled, “you’ll tell your family you’re coming back with us.” His eyes narrowed, and you’ll give no indication anything is wrong.

I rolled my shoulders back, tilting my chin. “Who are you to give me orders?”

Aelin looked down at her nails, holding them in front of her. “Relations between Terrasen and your court are well now. Would you want to jeopardize that?” She purred. “The trading routes are essential, aren’t they Rowan?” She turned to him. He gave a curt nod, but his eyes never left me.

Holy Gods. She’s willing to strain relations to get me to go back. To stay. I let out a slow exhale. My court, that’s something I’ll never be willing to jeopardize or threaten, and she knows that. “Very well.” My throat bobbed with each word. I underestimated them. How far they’d go to keep me. My instincts weren’t wrong - the doom I felt, not this time. They know where my deepest loyalties lie, and they’re willing to use them against me.

“Is that all?” I said through gritted teeth.

Aelin held up a finger, “don’t mention a word to that cousin of yours, who summoned you. I heard you dispatched a letter to her a week before that arrived. Interesting timing.”

“Stranger things have happened,” I countered, not missing a beat or giving an inch. Aelin’s look told me she didn’t believe a word I’d insinuated, she stalked towards me instead. I forced myself to stay in place, not to run. A finger pressed under my chin.

“Pretty little liar.” She smirked.

The look of outrage on her face was satisfying, Aelin had to admit. Almost as satisfying as putting the pieces together - of the interesting timing she’d orchestrated. She’d bet gold on what was in the letter she posted.

“I’m not a liar.” She hissed back at her.

“Maybe not,” Rowan’s voice came from behind her, “but you like to hide things.”

She looked away, an admission of guilt if I’ve ever seen one. “If I were to hide things, have you considered why I might do that?”

She turned back, a coldness settled in those beautiful eyes. Something she’d never seen from her before. Her eyes paused on her first, then to Rowan, before she swept from the room - not giving them a chance to counter.

Aelin should be proud, she did get the last word in.

“I forgot you both have a flair for the dramatics.” Rowan huffed, before stalking towards the door. He did say he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Likely, everyone would summon it up to their extended separation. Aelin knows better, he wants to keep an eye on her - they both do. He doesn’t trust her not to run. She doesn’t either.

They didn’t let me out of their sight as much as they could help it. They couldn’t follow me around while they were in official meetings, but found me as soon as they ended. The threat Aelin levied kept my mouth shut. I introduced them to my family - especially my small cousins who idolized them. The ones who always asked for stories about them. A smile crossed my face watching Aelin interact with them - how gentle she was.

I stared at Rowan, waiting to see if he would reach out or try to speak to me. What? He asked finally, to my mind, not bothering to sound pleasant.

Just a reminder of who you’re threatening. He stiffened, and I saw his fist clench together before loosening. I turned my attention back towards my cousins.

“I should’ve heeded your warning.” I told Fenrys, when we finally had a bit of time alone. Their majesties were otherwise occupied.

“Which one?” He threw a grape, catching it in his mouth. Show off.

“About asking certain questions.”

His look said, “I do give good advice from time to time. Even if it falls on empty ears.”

I snarled half-heartedly and debated telling him about the threat they’d given. But … I’d already stirred up enough and already was suffering the consequences. Maybe this was better left unsaid. “When’s your next night off?” I asked instead.

“About that.” Fenrys chuckled. “I’ve been informed I’m not allowed to take you out drinking.”

“Great.” I grumbled. Reaching for a grape.

“Until you, apparently, ‘earn those privileges.’”

My hand paused midair, my eyes snapped to his. “Excuse me?”

“Exactly what he said.” Aelin’s voice came from the doorway. I forget how easily they can sneak up on me. “We don’t trust you.”

Fenrys shot a pitying look at me, and made a swift exit. Smart, considering the argument brewing. Aelin strode to my side, budging me slightly to make room for her to sit next to me. I moved stiffly. “I took your warning to heart.” My voice came out quieter than I wished.

At least Fenrys saved her the trouble of bringing that up. She wrapped an arm around y/n’s waist, tugging her into her side. She could sense the battle between her mind and body - her mind wanting to pull away, but her body urging her to melt into her side. The body won.

“I won’t take any chances with you.”

“I didn’t realize this was a cage.”

Aelin flinched, her grip tightening. “It’s not.”

“Banning me from leaving. Sounds like a cage to me.”

“I don’t care what you think of it.” Aelin wished she didn’t mean the words, desperately wished she didn’t, but the primal Fae instinct in her, the one to keep her mate close - those overrode everything else.

As soon as she and Rowan realized how close they came to y/n slipping through their fingers, that urge set in. It’s something she couldn’t kick, couldn’t shove away.

“Who knew what asking the wrong questions could do.” Y/n muttered.

“You could’ve avoided all of this.” Aelin hedged. Possibly, but something told her it was inevitable - inevitable this would happen.

She pushed away from her, wiggling out of her grip, turning to look her in the eyes. A sadness was there, sadness and sorrow. “I never thought you’d stoop that low.”

Aelin’s temper flared. She felt the flames dance at her fingertips. Y/n cast a small shield to separate them. The female so rarely used her magic like that, she forgot she’s capable of it.

Rowan walked in, assessed the scene, and snorted. His magic both extinguished her flames and ripped down her shield. They turned to glare at him.

“Did you ever wonder where your magic comes from?” He asked y/n instead.

“My family.” She said, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Did you know your mother is part Crochan?”

Aelin sensed the shock running through y/n. She hadn’t known. Rowan. She glared at him, and he ignored her.

A flurry of emotions ran through the bond, y/n’s normal defenses completely down - wide open.

“Mostly witch I’d say. But obviously part Fae, given the features.” He continued. Rowan figured it out during the visit, after spending more time with her mother. He’d been waiting to drop this particular knowledge. Give something to unsettle her, the way she had with them. But, he thought she would have known. He thought it was something she hadn’t told them, had hid from them, and didn’t realize it could be something hidden from her. A tang of guilt ripped through him, but not enough to make him regret revealing it.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a witch.” She murmured quietly.

“I know,” Aelin said soothingly, wrapping an arm around her and tugging her into her side. You’re an asshole. She spoke directly to him. Why didn’t you tell me?

It didn’t occur to me. Aelin’s returning glare called bullshit.

“Crochan’s can use small glamors, you never wondered where that came from?”

“The version of my mother you see is different from the one who raised me.” Her words were bitter. Pure ice. He fought down those instincts that told him she might have caused her harm, the ones who told him to go eliminate the threat. He could see Aelin tamping them down as well. “She’s not a bad person,” y/n said quickly, sensing the shifts in their mood, “only … her intentions are good, she did her best raising us, but she can be a sneaky cold-hearted bitch when she wants to.”

Witch. Part witch. She wasn’t upset by the knowledge, it thrilled her actually. The upset came from how her mother never told her. She wonders if her father knew at all. Maybe not.

“Then we know where you get it from.” Rowan crooned.

I closed my eyes, forcing slow breaths in and out of me, cooling the rage seeming beneath my skin. They had a point, but … “Try and insult my mother again, mate or not I will cut off your favorite part.” I hissed. A genuine threat.

I heard Aelin stifling a laugh, but Rowan’s eyes widened slightly, before blinking. “Noted.”

“Crochans were in hiding for several years,” my lips pressed into a tight line. “It’s possible that’s … how she met my father.” My mother wasn’t born into our court - but she might as well rule it at this point.

Rowan’s eyes softened slightly, and he gave a quick nod. Relations between Crochans and Ironteeth only cooled very recently. Maybe that’s part of the reason my mother put a blade in my hand at a young age, and taught me how to use it.

After Rowans … revelation, y/n seemed to daze off. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and Aelin knew she was deep in thought. She didn’t interrupt her, instead choosing to keep her tugged into her side, glaring at Rowan - who looked unapologetic. He did take a seat on her other side, not touching but close enough he could reach out and hold her if he wanted to.

“She did insist on training us, from a young age.”

“Training?” Rowan’s interest peaked. Gods. Y/n has no idea what she might have started. “I haven’t seen you train before.”

“I do have hobbies outside of being your mate.”

Rowan bristled. “You love hiding things, don’t you.”

“I’d say I’m full of surprises,” she countered dryly, shooting him an infuriating smile. Aelin had taught her that one, sure enough it worked.

“Then train with me tomorrow morning.”

Aelin groaned. This would not end well.

You need to be kinder, she reminded him.

I will. He shot her an exasperated look.

Based on Aelin’s horror stories, I thought I’d be in for a few hours of torture with Rowan the next morning, but to my surprise he was patient. Making small corrections here and there, and focusing mostly on technique.

Rowan sent a small gust of wind - not enough to damage me, but enough to make me lose my balance, costing a few precious seconds before his blade was a few inches from my throat.

“You’d be dead.” I tilted my head after he moved the dagger away. He didn’t say it with coldness, or judgment - maybe a bit of worry.

“I’ll teach you how to use your magic.”

“I’m capable of using my magic.” I snapped back.

He let out a slow breath. “In a fight.”

That makes more sense. “Fine,” I said, a bit begrudgingly, and he grinned - a terrifying grin that made my heart beat a bit faster.

“Rowan.” I heard Aelin’s voice from behind us, and it had a warning tone to it. “Be nice or I’ll take over.”

He grunted, before gesturing towards a table propped against the wall. Weapons, he seemed to say. I narrowed my eyes.

“Why?”

“So you won’t default to them.”

He does have a point. Having never extensively used my magic offensively or defensively, there was a large learning curve over the next few weeks. Rowan seemed to have eternal patience when it came to me. I slowly felt the bridges start to connect again, some of the trust rebuild.

“He was never this nice to me,” Aelin complained one night, my head resting on her lap as she carefully ran her fingers through my hair, detangling any strands gently.

“I believe the circumstances were a bit different.” I mumbled, her motions slowly lulling me to sleep. But, I didn’t think Rowan was feeling particularly kind or generous with the hell he put me through.

“You’re right about that.” She ran her thumb over my cheekbone, tracing down my jawline. “How are you feeling?”

I twisted to look at her, that question could have a myriad of answers. “About what?” My fingers drifted over her shoulder, down her arm, before capturing her hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Everything. Anything.” I couldn’t get a read on her emotions, her face was carefully neutral.

“Right now, I’m tired, sore, and want a snack.” Aelin laughed, before turning me so she could run her fingers through my hair again. “I’m also …” My words trailed off, and I regretted opening my mouth. Having to actually explain how I’m feeling or put it in words, especially with the results some of my questions or words have had in the past, fills me with a sense of anxiety. I don’t know how they’ll react anymore, or how they’ll take certain scenarios. Everything feels like new territory again, despite having been together for some time.

“Also what?” Aelin prompted. I felt her tense underneath me, but her fingers didn’t stop their motions.

“A bit like a bird stuck in a too-small space.” I avoided saying the word ‘cage,’ but the implication was still there.

Aelin loosed a long breath. “Thank you for telling me.”

I blinked in surprise. Thank you, coming from Aelin. The surprise manners almost overrode the fact that she didn’t offer anything to fix it. Almost.

#throne of glass fic #rowaelin x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin #poly!rowaelin x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #aelin galathynius x y/n #throne of glass x reader #sort of proofread this time #read the warnings please!

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apocalypseornaw · 5 months

Text

A Memory or Me (Pt 2/3)

Sam Winchester x Reader

You overhear a conversation between Sam and Dean that hurts

You loved so many things about Sam. His heart, the way he cared so deeply. His brain, the fact that he could retain information about lore he'd read years before. His smile, the way it warmed you just seeing it. You loved the way he held you, his larger frame making you feel tiny. You loved the way he kissed you, the way that no matter how long the two of you had been together he always checked on your comfort level every time he slid into you, touched you, pushed you over that edge time and again.

You hadn't told him you loved him yet. For one you didn't want to push him. You were his first relationship after Jess, yeah he'd had a couple hookups but you were the first to stick around.

Maybe you'd hoped he would say it first, but he never did. The longer you were together the more you wondered if he would ever say it.

Bobby's house was the closest thing to home any of you had ever had, perks of your life. You were in the kitchen, making tea and checking on the cookies Bobby had talked you into making while you were in town.

Dean was outside changing the oil in the impala and in your car as well. Sam was with him so you had music playing and a couple lore books on the table. Things had been going good with you and Sam, even hunting practically full time with the boys was going well enough.

____________

You'd just sat down at the table when you heard Bobby call your name. You walked into the living room where he was sitting at his desk “You rang?”

He shook his head but you could see the smile playing at his lips “Go take those knuckleheads some water if you will. It's eighty today and they grabbed a beer each before going out” You nodded then headed back to the kitchen. The timer for the cookies had just chirped so you pulled them out and sat them on top of the stove to cool before grabbing two bottles of water out of the fridge.

_____________

You knew your way around the junkyard well enough. Dean would hopefully have the cars under the shelter in the back that was also used as a painting booth for times like when the impala was totaled around John's death.

You could hear music blasting and laughed when Dean's voice mingled with the radio on “You shook me all night long”

“Winchesters!” You hollered as you got closer and Sam was the first one to pop his head out, a smirk on his face “So I'm back down to just being one of the Winchester?” You shrugged “Well I mean I did wake up alone this morning. Could make a girl feel some type of way”

He raised an eyebrow when you walked beside him into the paint booth and held a bottle of water out to Dean “Like it or not Bobby didn't want you two dehydrating out here and when he says to drink water over alcohol you know it's bad” Dean took the water with a wink “Any other person I'd say but I mean at least the water delivery girl is cute”

You rolled your eyes and felt Sam's arms slip around your waist “Easy Dean. She's taken” you laughed and passed a bottle of water into Sam's hand “You two are adorable really but I gotta finish helping Bobby with some chores inside while I'm here” Sam leaned down and gripped your chin with one of his hands to turn your head and give him access to your lips.

The kiss was gentle and you smiled against his lips “Well talk about adorably nauseating” Dean teased so you pulled away from Sam to glare at him “Bite me Dean” “Ain't that Sammy's job?” He replied with a grin. You felt your face warm but shook your head “With that I'm going inside”

________________

A while later Bobby sent you out to retrieve the boys because he needed them to make a run into town. You were walking up to the open side door of the paint booth when you heard Dean say “So you and Y/N are coming up on a year and I don't know if I missed it but have you told her you love her man?”

You froze on the spot. You shouldn't be hearing this, it was a violation of not only Sam's privacy but the privacy between brothers as well. Yet you remained rooted on the spot “I haven't” Sam's voice came and you felt your stomach drop. Would you hear him say he loved you or admit he didn't?

“Why not?” Dean pushed and you could practically see his stance, arms crossed over his chest and green eyes boring into his younger brother. You heard Sam exhale and his stance hit your mind too, probably leaned against a wall staring at anything but Dean. “I don't know it's just, she's so different than Jess”

“And that's a bad thing?” Dean asked and you felt a sense of gratitude for him defending you even to Sam. “I'm not saying it's a bad thing but I had this idea of love, my future. With Jess it was getting married after college, a house and kids. Y/N is a hunter through and through, she's comfortable covered in blood and fighting anything that crawls its way out of hell. Jess was soft and gentle and easy going. Y/N is a hurricane, she'll knock you off your feet without even trying”

You felt tears burn your eyes, your mother's voice from years ago hitting your ears. Telling you that you held too much weight in your thighs and stomach, that you were too loud, too weird. That no one would ever love you. The woman had been dead for over a decade and still tormented you. “So you're saying you haven't told Y/N you love her because she's not a little housewife material?” Dean asked and from the edge in his voice you knew you were reading the situation right. Sam didn't love you because you weren't Jess.

“I don't know” Sam admitted and you turned to walk away but remembered Bobby needed them.

_____________

You took a deep breath and wiped your eyes before schooling your face. You could lie to cops daily,you could make them believe you hadn't heard anything.

You made sure your footsteps were loud and started humming your favorite song under your breath before opening the door. Both men turned to look at you and sure enough, Dean stood next to baby with his arms crossed looking every inch the disappointed dad while Sam was leaning against the wall looking like the teenager who'd been expelled.

You raised your eyebrows “You two good?” Dean nodded slowly then turned his eyes to you “Yeah sweetheart we're good. You need something?” You nodded “Bobby needs a supply run” “We'll be there in a minute” you smiled slightly “Ok”

You tried not to let Sam's words get to you. After all God rest the dead, Jess was gone. You were alive. If he couldn't appreciate what was in front of him that wasn't your shortcoming was it?

Still you found yourself not being quite yourself. You wouldn't sing along with the radio, if you got bloody on a hunt you'd always go straight to the shower and not even let Dean check your injuries first. You tried to be less of a hurricane but knew that was just who you were. You'd always be too much.

@lacilou @fullbelieverheart @prettydeaneyes

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #a memory or me mini series

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

delivery person reader always delivering pin from one new owner to another

really weird how this doll keeps getting given away all the time, makes you wond-ah! i have a new delivery due aaa! *forgets about it*

"Y/n, hold up."

Foot hanging on the steel step of your truck, you shift your attention to your superior as they near the back of the vehicle. Parking a trolley as they open the back, they thumb through a list on their phone. Something in you predicts the next chain of events.

"Got a last minute addition to your route. I'll load it in then you can head out."

You could buy a lottery ticket with your luck - if it hadn't been so poor. The box is worn and cardboard taped at various ends, but you knew it, and its contents well. You packed the doll in it when it was returned to the office on its own two feet. Which shipment was that - the third or tenth? While putting a date to that specific instance was hard, what you did remember was that your little friend had been with you for some time. Location to location; following you pass a personal move to a new residence and job placement. You felt bad for the not-so little guy; the doll reaching the ceiling of your office when it wasn't crammed in a box.

"Alright. Let me know when you're done." You wait in the driver seat for your co-worker to finish up. You can see the box getting shoved in the corner out the overhead mirror. They round to your side following the slamming of the back door.

"Before you leave, you left all the updated info for your address in the breakroom like I asked right, right?"

"Yeah. Left it on a posted note under a salt shaker like you asked."

"Cool, just thought it'd be easier since I'm heading out early today, and wanted to get the prize from that raffle sent out soon. See you tommorow."

"See ya." You roll the door shut and start the truck's engine; speeding off to make up for those few seconds you lost. The day goes as smoothly as possible for someone worrying about their inanimate tag along could. Throughout your shift you have to arrange the box around due to movement during the drive. After a while, it just sits in the little nook behind your chair no matter the bump or slide.

Your time together ends the same as your shift. As the last stop on the roster, you march up the darkened driveway up to the front porch. It's a little rough around the edges, but you managed to find equal ground for the box to stand on. Saying goodbye to a piece of mail is the last thing you existed to mark off your list, but it feels right in this situation. You pray its the final one and that its found its loving home, but it's almost a bittersweet farewell.

"Hope things work out for you this time."

You load into your truck and drive off with only the occasional glance in your side view mirror.

"What the hell did you order, Y/n?"

Halfway through swallowing, you choke out a reply. "What- do you mean?"

Your coworker shrugs, making a rectangle with their hands to get their point across. "Well, not that I was being nosy, but I saw the note with your address and noticed it matched one I delivered to with this huge ass box.

"That's... concerning on its own, but I haven't ordered anything recently. Doubt something that big is from a raffle. I'll check it out when I get home."

Your break ends shortly after. The conversation with your coworker lingers in your head the remainder of the day. It couldn't be - right? As per usual, your shift is over long after the street lamps turn on. You take your time getting home; preparing yourself for what your instincts told you was there. From door in view - you can see it there.

A torn, cardboard box with various addresses covered by a new label; yours the newest addition. The tape on the seams is bunched up and peeling from lack of adhesive. You calmly enter your house, still unable to face it. Your face lands in a wall of plush.

Welcome home, Y/n.... I had so much fun hanging out with you, but I think we should play a new game now. House is so much more fun.... especially since we can do so much more together now.

#yandere doll #Pin my oc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere blurb #Delivery driver reader #yandere drabble #yandere teratophilia #yandere x y/n #yandere monster

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00127am · 3 months

Text

CHAPTER FIVE : kiss and tell

@ noisecomplaint ln yn isn't too fond of apartment living, between the occasional roaches and the person who keeps stealing her grocery deliveries. but especially because of her exceptionally loud next door neighbors whom she has decided: she cannot stand. it's not all bad though, certainly not when xiao dejun (the prettiest boy she's ever seen) lives in the building. well, it was a perk. until it's revealed that him and her next door neighbor are one in the same.

“Come to chew me out about smoking again?”

In any and all iterations of the word lovesick, Xiaojun seems to be fitting of any and all descriptions. It’s embarrassing, the way his lips part and his eyes blow wide the second he hears your voice. The way in which he declines you the privilege of a response, primarily for the fact that he cannot seem to muster one. Not with the way you’re peering back at him, head tilted and tongue poking at your cheek. One brow raised and lips in the beginning of a sneer that despite all connotations, he can’t help but feel is charming. There’s a cigarette hanging from your fingers, dangling over the railing as the ash drips down like oncoming snow. You make it look so appealing, smoking that is, more so than Ten or Sicheng ever has. And Xiaojun begins to wonder whether it really is all that bad for you.

He clears his throat, hand heavy on the back of his neck as he leans over the railing. Half lidded eyes slide in your direction, forcing you to swallow, hard, in a concentrated effort to push down the beginnings of a blush. His hands are dangling over the edge, tongue snaking across his bottom lip before getting caught between his teeth. His brows are furrowed, lips parted in the beginning of response that he just can’t seem to get out. But then, he does, with an expression so utterly pathetic that you could have sworn that he reached over and squeezed your heart. “So you and Ten?”

It takes you a moment to register the implications of his words, gears turning in your head before you burst out laughing. Staring at him with a grin that pushes up your cheeks and swallows your eyes. He’s never smoked before, too afraid of damaging his lungs and forever ruining the pretty voice he uses when he sings in the shower. He’s never had an addiction in the first place. But if he did, then he’s pretty sure that it would feel like this. All consuming, setting him alight from the tips of his toes to the shell of his ears. A burn in his chest that seems to eat away at him with each change in pitch from you. Laughter as pretty as a songbird, a sound that he would play on loop if he could.

“What?” you muster through your giggling, waving the cigarette in his direction as you shoot him an incredulous look, “Ten and I what? Dating?”

He nods, lip pulled underneath his top set of teeth, looking like a puppy who just got kicked. His hair is falling over his dark eyes as he looks back at you, cheeks flushed a pretty pink from the chill (it’s more so you, not that you would ever connect the dots). In contrast to his sullen, somber state, you’re out of breath. Practically bent over the railing as you snort, “What gave you that impression?”

“The picture he sent on new years. The lipstick one. You guys seemed…busy,”

“That? No, Ten and I always kiss on the countdown. Not like a real kiss or anything. Nothing romantic, I really … yeah, I don’t think I could ever see Ten like that,”

He shoots you a look, features scrunched and eyes narrowed. He’s cute. So cute that you might fling yourself off the balcony because you’re not sure you can continue on with this conversation. It’s hard to hate him when he’s looking at you like that, an expression that is begging you to reach over and show him what a real kiss is. You grip your cigarette tighter, desperate for any semblance of getting an actual grip over yourself.

“So you guys just make out all the time or…”

This indicts another laugh from you and Xiaojun feels all the blood in his body rush to his head. “Ten’s lucky if he gets a peck on new years. I’m affectionate with all my friends but we’re not fucking if that’s what you’re asking,”

You take a drag, watching amused as he spits and sputters over your choice of words. You snicker, lips twitching into a self-satisfied grin at his floundering. Utterly unable to find a foothold for a response. How could he ever respond to that? Sorry, didn’t mean to pry into your sex life! Bye! His face is hot as he gulps, loud enough to elicit another bout of entertained laughter from your direction. A direction which he avoids, head in his hands as he scrambles for any pretense of an apology. You’re not sure if it’s because of how pitiful he looks or because you want to escape the potential conversation of said sex life but you interject, swooping in and saving him from the inevitable, resigned comment he would have to make.

“He asked me to kiss him all over for the picture. Said he wanted to send it to you, that it would drive you crazy,” you shrug, smoking falling over your lips in a steady stream, “I’m not your biggest fan, if you didn’t know, and it’s just Ten so,”

Xiaojun picks his head up so quickly that the sides of his head seem to be squeezing in on him. There’s a burning itch in the bridge of his nose and a ringing in his ears, seeing double with the force of bringing himself to look at you. He blinks himself out of it, once, twice, then five times before he’s no longer staggering where he stands. “So you’re not dating Ten,”

“Nope,” you pop the P, taking another slow drag of your cigarette.

“And you didn’t enjoy kissing him?” it’s an exhale this time as you shake your head no, eliciting him to pinch his thumb and pointer together, “Not even a little bit?”

You raise a brow, gesturing the cig in his direction as you speak. “No. You into him or something?”

If one week ago, someone had told him that his nextdoor neighbor, the same one he’s head over heels for, would be asking him if he had a crush on Ten Lee--he would have laughed in their face and told them to fuck off. If there was ever a direction in which this conversation was never in a million years meant to go too, it would be this one. A conclusion that Xiaojun has reached with the fall of his face and the slack of his jaw. And when he hears that question fall from your ever-tempting lips, it feels as if he had just gotten hit by a freight train. Then run over ten times (even the number makes him angry) for good measure. Then had the earth implode. “No! No, god no. Not him,”

He watches as his dismissal and rejection flies straight over your hair. Soaring over that pretty head of yours. You look him up and down, inner cheek caught in between your teeth as your gaze flickers back to his eyes. Your tone is dry, thick with complete and utter disbelief.

“Uh huh,”

He gapes, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His tone is hurried and panicked, desperate to clear up the misunderstanding that you seem to have already solidified as the absolute truth in your head. “No!” his volume is nearly at a shout before he coughs quickly and lowers it again after taking in the amused look on your face, “No, no, no, really. It’s not like that,”

“Sure, yeah,” you wave him off, smug smile twitching on your lips as you spin around on your heels, “I’ll let Ten know it’s not like that,”

“Seriously! I’m not into Ten. Yn, I’m serious-” the butt end of his sentence is interrupted by the slam of your door and Xiaojun is left standing alone on his balcony. It takes him a few moments to process everything that has just happened and when he does, he can only reach one conclusion (one beyond the fact that it feels like his entire world just exploded and went up into smoke and flames).

Ten is never going to let him live this down.

taglist. @replayenthusiast @ahnneyong @yeosangsbiceps @haechansbbg @mxlly143 @suneonu @evilsailorsenshi @yangasm @222brainrot @odxrilove thank for you for supporting noise complaint! ♡

@ previous @ home @ next

🧾 © 00127am 2024

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 6 months

Text

Young American Finale ^**

AHHHH THE FINALE IS HERE. I had such a hard time finishing this because I think I wasn't ready for it to end, but thus it had to. I hope you guys love this part. A lot happens and of course, the happiest ending for our lovely couple and their little angel of a baby boy 👼🏻

Series Masterlist

Warnings: descriptions of abusive relationships (verbal/emotional). Descriptions of personality disorder (Borderline Personality Disorder specifically). Descriptions of pregnancy. Fingering and oral sex (fem receiving), use of sex toys, sex (p in v, unprotected), breeding kink, multiple/forced orgasms. Descriptions of labor and delivery process.

WC: 23K

A little recap....

Y/N finds out that Harry has been hanging out with and talking to his ex-girlfriend Chloe for a few weeks. He has been acting very sketchy about it. So at the Sunday roast they are hosting, she borrows his phone and decides to give Chloe a call. Harry gets suspicious and decides to follow her in and finds out she's contacted Chloe...

“Baby, can I use your phone?” Y/N asked as she came up to him and he suddenly felt concern come over him.

“Ummm why? For what?” He asked right away and immediately regretted it because it sounded suspicious. Or maybe he was just being super paranoid.

“I can’t seem to find mine and I was supposed to call G, he wanted to run through his anniversary dinner plans with his man.” She explained. “I just want to find it, I’m gonna call from mine, don’t worry.” She assured and he bit his lip and nodded.

“Ummm sure. Yeah, of course.” He replied and handed it over. She grabbed it and typed in his password but it was wrong and she glanced up to him in confusion, “Oh, sorry forgot to mention I changed it. Archie knew it and downloaded a shitload of games on it and-”

“It’s fine, Harry.” She smiled, “You don’t need to justify it to me. I trust you.” She said looking deep in his eyes, but there was something in them that made him distrust her words and he frowned a bit.

“Right.” He chuckled and he took it and typed in the password and handed it over.

“Thanks. I’m gonna go look for my phone.” She said and headed inside.

Harry felt so unsettled that Y/N had his phone. He knew Y/N had seen the text Chloe had sent him after the first time they hung out after the cycling class. But she didn’t seem upset or even bring it up again, he hadn’t meant to hide it, but if she didn’t read into it then he was just not going to bring it up. And he really did intend on just closing the door with Chloe, but she was going through a lot and well he had been looking for something to do with his time, so he figured being a friend to her wouldn’t be a bad thing. So they kept hanging out and doing stuff around town. It was completely platonic. He hadn’t given Y/N any reason not to trust him in the past, and well he just…didn’t want to relive the horrors of that relationship with Y/N. Once Chloe got through her rough patch he’d just tell her that they couldn’t be friends. That was genuinely his plan, but he had been so wrapped up in her that he hadn’t realized that just being around her was changing him, the effects were so quick that he was oblivious to them.

He had been lost in the chatter until he realized that Y/N hadn’t brought his phone back for a while. It made him feel on edge, so much so that he quite literally chugged the beer before him and stood up abruptly, startling Skye.

“Alright, mate?” He asked and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, just gonna grab another beer. Anyone else want one?” He asked and his uncle, Julie, and Skye all said yes.

“So you’re drinking again? What happened to solidarity?” Gemma asked and he frowned a bit. He had been drinking again…he didn’t know why that hadn’t really clicked until someone mentioned it to him.

“S’only been two.” He said.

“Try 3.” Gemma said and he looked at her incredulously until he glanced down at the spot before him and saw that he had in fact polished of his 3rd beer already.

“Those are not all mine. We’ve all been drinking.” He said and immediately Gemma and Alyssa exchanged a look of concern.

“No mate, those are yours.” Skye confirmed and everyone laughed a bit and Harry frowned, suddenly feeling really defensive that everyone was laughing at him, “Well, fine. No more for me then. Should I still bring you lot another?” He asked and they nodded. “Coming right up. M’also gonna check on Y/N, she’s been gone too long.” He said and headed inside.

Now he was feeling conflicted and attacked and anxious. He beelined for their current bedroom and the door was closed. And when he tried to open it he found it was locked. He exhaled, jaw taut as he swallowed down the lump in his throat as he tried to listen for any sounds and could hear her muffled speaking.

“Open the door, Y/N.” He said through the wood. It took a few moments before the door opened. It worried him that he couldn’t really decipher the look in her eyes, but all he needed to know was that it wasn’t good. “Who were you talking to?” He asked and she looked at him for a second.

“Does it matter?”

“It does. You said you were going to talk to G and if you weren’t then why did you lie about it?” He questioned her. Just then his phone started ringing and she glanced down to it. She turned the phone towards him and his expression went blank and he swore that all of the blood in his body rushed down to his feet making him feel dizzy and out of sorts.

“Do you want to answer her or should I?” Y/N asked and he didn’t say anything, “I should warn you that I think she’s still calling for me so she might get a bit rude with you.” She said calmly and when he just stood there she shook her head and sighed as she handed the phone over and started to get around him to exit the room.

“What did she say to you?” He asked and she sighed.

“It doesn’t matter, I didn’t believe half the things she accused you of, she’s clearly psychologically unwell-”

“That’s rude of you to say, she’s just going through a hard time.” He said with a frown and Y/N sighed.

“I think she’s fine. She’s just a liar, Harry.”

“Why would she lie about anything that she’s been through?!” He asked in frustration.

“Because she knows that’s how she’ll reel you back in.” Y/N said simply and Harry frowned.

“She doesn’t affect me like that any more. It’s not like she was going to trick me into leaving you or something! I’m not an idiot!” He snapped and she frowned.

“I didn’t say you were-”

“I was just lending an ear. It was nothing bad!” His voice was raised now in defense when she hadn’t even said one accusatory thing to him.

“If it’s nothing bad why did you go out of your way to hide this from me?” She asked and his forehead creased even deeper in frustration and he sighed and it looked like he would say something but after about a minute of standing there in silence he didn’t say anything more. “OK, well I’m just going to head back outside.” She said quietly and before she could make it out he grabbed her arm.

“I know you saw the first text she sent me. You were looking through my phone. Why were you even looking through my phone?!” He questioned her as he stood in front of the door now.

“I was trying to see if Eddie had good news! After the morning we’d had I just wanted to share some good news with you. And we always look at each other’s phones! It had never been a problem before so I just assumed it was fine to look at your phone.”

“So you saw it, meaning that you’ve known about Chloe since then and you never brought it up. Why didn’t you bring it up if it bugged you? Were you trying to collect evidence against me so you can hold it over my head or leave me?” He asked and she looked at him like he was absolutely mad.

“Where is this about me leaving you even coming from?” She asked him, “I didn’t say anything because up until I saw that message I believed that you had lost track of time and somehow walked all the way to SOHO! I was confused about how I felt and when I started to doubt you I decide to trust you instead and hoped that you would do the right thing. The mature thing and take ownership of your actions and tell me yourself! And when you didn’t bring it up the next day I wanted to show you the message and ask you for clarification but you had deleted it!” She said and his eyes softened a bit.

“There was nothing for me to bring up anymore and I thought that…maybe it was just a quick run in…worst case scenario, a spontaneous and regretful hook up!” She explained and Harry looked hurt that she even thought that, “But then you kept hiding things and lying and I knew you would keep lying about it. I’m really sorry if you feel like I invaded your privacy today, but you’ve been deliberately lying to me for weeks and I’ve been going fucking crazy between deciding if I wanted to know what was going on or not! But then I realized that I couldn’t bear to hear something bad from you, so I decided to hear it from her if something was going on.” She said with tearful eyes but she wasn’t going to let a singe tear fall, “And I don’t know why you decided to lie to me, Harry. But if she still means something to you and you wanted her back in your life I would’ve tried to understand. But after all the sneaking around and now that I’ve spoken to her and have heard the way she’s talked about you and the things she’s said about you. Your supposed friend by the way, I don’t want her near you, me, or our baby, ever.” She said firmly and Harry swallowed thickly. “Can I go now?” She asked and he let her go and moved to the side.

“Are you angry at me?” He asked softly and she sighed as she stopped at the door.

“Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it.” She responded

“You have every right to be, but I swear I was just listening to her problems, it was absolutely nothing other than that and-”

“I know. We’re not done talking about this though. We should deal with this when everyone goes.” She said.

“I love you so much and I’m really sorry for all of this.” He apologized.

“Thank you for apologizing.” She said quietly and he nodded.

“Not gonna forgive me though?” He asked as he took her hands and the fact that she let him was a good sign.

“Obviously I will, but I’m still angry at you and I…don’t want to forgive you without clearing things up.” She said sincerely and he chuckled a bit, “I’m being serious.” She pouted and he nodded.

“I know, my love.” He assured, “I’m not laughing at you, s’just a nervous thing.” He said and she shook her head.

“I think I just want to understand why you…went through all these lengths for her before I can move on from this.” She explained her reasoning and he frowned.

“Baby, I can clarify how this even happened but I ummm…I don’t want to talk about why this happened.” He said to her.

“OK, but you need to so that we can clear this up.” She said and he shook his head.

“I can’t. I won’t.” He said to her with certainty and out of every emotion under the sun, the one radiating the strongest off of him was fear. He was afraid to talk about this with her.

“I get that it might be painful and hard to explain it but…whether you’re ready to hear this or not, she was in your head, Harry. She’d gotten in your head and a few more weeks of this and who knows where you’d be!” She explained anxiously.

“How can you even say that?” He asked, fully offended. “I wouldn’t betray you ever! Or just leave you!” He scoffed.

“Maybe not the you that I’ve shared all of this with, but that’s what you were doing though…” she said and he tore his hands from hers, “You were pulling away and you’ve been really weird and cold and dry…like how you were before and…well you’ve been drinking a lot more than your normal, and-”

“STOP IT!” He shouted out of nowhere and she just shut her mouth and he exhaled shakily and licked over his lips as he calmed down for a second, “I understand that I owe you an apology, but you’re not getting an explanation.” He said voice soft but his tone was decisive, his eyes locked intensely on hers. “Do you understand?” He asked and she felt patronized at his question and she shook her head.

“I can’t accept that, Harry.” Y/N responded. “In order to rebuild the trust that’s been broken we need to talk-”

“Well trust me now when I tell you that discussing Chloe and I is not something that will help anything. I won’t talk to her again. It’s all in the past and it’s not going to make a difference now so get it out of your head. Please.” He implored.

“It’ll make a difference to me. Because I need to be sure that this is not going to happen again. And I can hope all I want, but if there is something, some part of you that is still…vulnerable to her-”

“We’re done having this conversation.” He interrupted and walked around her to leave the bedroom. She followed after him as best as she could, but he was walking fast. She frowned when she saw him getting out of his house shoes and opening the door to the entryway.

“Harry, where are you going?” She asked in a panic.

“Maybe to go fuck Chloe and file for divorce while I’m at it!” He snapped sarcastically and she felt her tears start to fall.

“You’re being really shitty, Harry.” She sniffled, but he was so overwhelmed and he felt like she was pushing him and pressuring him to talk about something that he never intended to open up about with anyone.

“Well that’s what you probably think I’m going to do anyway, isn’t it?” He asked her with a scowl on his face and she shook her head.

“No, Harry! But running off is not going to resolve this issue!”

“Well I don’t want to be here right now with all these people while you accuse me of shit I haven’t even done!”

“I’m not accusing you of anything!” She sighed in frustration as he opened the front door, “Harry, if you leave right now I don’t want you to come back until you’re ready to face this.” She admonished and as she looked into his eyes she searched for any indication that he would soften up but he looked away.

“That’s not going to happen, so you can call me when you decide to just let this one go.” He said lowly and he heard a sob break through her throat before she just stormed off. In his stubbornness he decided to just leave. He groaned and wasn’t discrete in his exit, he slammed the door hard enough that the windows rattled a bit.

*********

Alyssa was coming inside to go to the bathroom when she heard the door slam and she rushed over to the exit and then looked out the window to see Harry stomping over to his car and getting in roughly. So she headed down the hall to the guest room only to hear Y/N sobbing loudly on the other side of the closed door. She bit on her lip nervously and decided to head out and grab Gemma. More than anyone else, she and Gemma had picked up on the recent changes to Harry’s attitude. It was all reminiscent of his time with his ex, Chloe. They had been the ones who were constantly appealing for him to just let the relationship go, to move on, to come back home…but Chloe was so deep in his head, almost thinking for him! She could manipulate him in ways that were so sinister. And god, she really hoped that Harry hadn’t been stupid enough to have seen her or sleep with her, but whatever this was, it was bad.

“Gem, can you come here for a minute?”

“Where the hell is Harry with our beers?” Her dad asked and she groaned.

“I’ll get ‘em…” Alyssa said and headed off to the kitchen to grab the beers while Gemma made her way inside.

“Do you need help with something?”

“Harry stormed out and Y/N is sobbing in the bedroom.” She said and Gemma frowned. “Can you check on her. I’ll be right there.” She said and Gemma hurried off. Alyssa then made an excuse to get everyone to go home or go hang out at the pub, which is what they all agreed on. Gemma then came back out and shared a look with Aly that told her that whatever this was needed their immediate attention, so she asked Skye to leave the car and she’d just get him from the pub before they went home and he agreed and so they all headed off and that left Aly and Gemma and Y/N in the house.

“Did you talk to her?” Aly asked as she served Y/N a glass of water.

“No, she said to give her a minute to calm down before she wanted to talk about it.” Gemma said and Aly nodded before heading back to her bedroom.

*********

“Hey guys.” Y/N sniffled as she let them in. Alyssa offered the water glass and she took it and drank some down before setting it down on the bedside table and then just sitting on the bed.

“Where did my brother go?” Gemma asked.

“I really don’t know…” she sighed as she rubbed at her eyes, “And I don’t…I don’t know what to do.” She confessed and the two women before her nodded, encouraging her to tell them what was going on. “Ummm, so like about three weeks ago we had a little argument over Harry saying he was feeling trapped at home. He was like bored out of his mind and was like trying to get me to do more stuff with him and he basically just wanted to have some fun together before the baby came. But like, I’m just achey and tired all the time and won’t be able to keep up, you know how he is.” She explained and they both chuckled and nodded, “But he had gone off to the gym to just get the need to be active out of his system and like…he was gone for hours.” She explained, “Later that night he was expecting a text from Eddie, but then when I went to go see the message another came in at the same time and I accidentally opened that text and it was from his ex-girlfriend, Chloe and it was…sketchy.” She said and both Gemma and Alyssa sighed in disappointment.

“So he’s been…seeing her?” Gemma asked and Y/N nodded firmly once.

“For the past three weeks.” Y/N confirmed. “Like…I wanted to bring up that text to him because they way she wrote it, it was like insinuating that they had…ummm-”

“HE DID NOT.” Gemma stated with a frown.

“I don’t think he did, but she just wanted to make it seem that way.” Y/N explained.

“I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a fucking lunatic! Like completely mad.” Alyssa said and Y/N sighed.

“Yeah, she’s not well…” she agreed, “Well, anyway he deleted the text message before I could ask him about it. He never saved the number so I assumed that if anything had happened it was a one time thing and I decided that I could make peace with that. But there were more texts through the weeks and then he just started deleting them I assume because they suddenly stopped, but he’d always be gone and like he’s just not been himself.” She explained.

“Yeah, I called him out on the drinking earlier and he got so defensive.” Gemma said and Y/N sighed.

“Right, well I misplaced my phone and I asked him for his to call myself and he got really weird about me having his phone. And when he finally gave it over he had changed the password, which is strange because we’ve never been secretive with that, you know? And he…he said Archie had downloaded too many games on it so he decided to change it.” Gemma scoffed when Y/N shared that and she shrugged. “I really was just going to look for my phone but then that happened and I got suspicious so I…I called her to ask her if anything was going on because I’d rather hear it from someone I don’t know than him, you know?”

“What did she say?” Aly asked.

“Well she first pretended that she had no idea he was married and then confirmed that they’d been sleeping together. But she was being a bit inconsistent so I know she’s lying about that, but he’s been spending a lot of time with her. Harry was at the door and overheard I think, but when he came in he told me he was just being nice and trying to listen to her problems. Which I genuinely believe he was trying to be nice, but the woman is obsessed with him and clearly has ulterior motives! And he like started to defend her or whatever and I was just trying to tell him that like…if nothing bad was going on then he didn’t have to hide it and lie about it, you know? It’s just the ease at which he was willing to lie for her that’s really bothering me.” She explained with concern.

“Well of course he lied about it. There’s an unspoken rule that we don’t talk about her. Ever. She’s the reason he was a fucking mess! But he literally worshipped the ground she shat on and nothing could ever make him see what it was that she was doing to him.” Aly explained and Gemma snorted on a laugh and Y/N giggled as well at Aly’s chosen expression. “He knew that if any of us found out that he was seeing her again that we would interfere and give him hell for it. That’s why he lied.” Alyssa said with certainty and Gemma nodded.

“OK, so obviously this is…a lot more of a sensitive situation than I thought. Like I knew his previous relationships weren’t great, he’d shared that much, but this is…more than just bad I think? I mean, he tried to apologize but I told him that we needed to talk about what exactly happened that made him feel like he needed to lie before I could properly forgive him and move on from it. Like I don’t want to forgive him and next time he’s struggling he falls into her lap again, you know? Like clearly she knows how to get to him and he’s still susceptible to her! And that’s when he got angry. He said that I wasn’t going to get an explanation and to just take the apology and like…I don’t know, maybe I pushed him too far?” She sniffled.

“Bull!” Gemma cut in, “He needs to explain himself!”

“I agree.” Aly said and Y/N sighed.

“Well Harry doesn’t feel like he needs to. He just said he doesn’t want to revisit it and to just trust that he won’t talk to her again. But like…I saw how she got in his head and just the difference over the last few weeks, I mean, it’s not normal or healthy and that’s when he really got pissed and started to leave and I asked him where he was going and he said-” she stopped as her tears started to blur her vision again and Gemma and Aly frowned, “H-he said that m-maybe he would go and fuck Chloe or ummm…file for divorce s-since that’s what I was assuming he was doing anyway…” she cried and the girls literally gasped upon hearing this. “And I got angry and said if he walked out that I didn’t want him home until he was ready to talk about it and then he said that he wasn’t going to change his mind and he’d wait for me to call him when I’ve decided to let it go.” She started to cry again and Gemma just hugged her and glanced over at Aly with apprehension.

“I’m really sorry.” She hummed and Y/N just sighed through her tears.

“Like I want to work through this, but I don’t know what I’m truly up against, you know? And like, I didn’t know she was his ex until I called her today and just…the things she said about him were so hurtful and like…I just can’t for the life of me understand why he would choose to interact with someone like that and then defend them like that!?” She said in frustration.

“Well, I know I’m his sister and I love him to death, but this is just the tip of the iceberg of his ugly side if Chloe is involved.” She said and Y/N pulled back and frowned, “Harry was with her for four years. I don’t know what went on in the relationship because he was so far removed from us then, but I know that it wasn’t anything good. That relationship destroyed him. He was already going through so much but that just made it worse and like…as much as he avoided us, we also started to avoid him because he was…awful and mean to everyone when we would even try to understand what was going on with them. We hadn’t spoken for almost a year when I reached out to him again.” She confessed and Y/N sighed.

“I told him he needed to see a therapist after that was over.” Aly said and Gemma nodded.

“I don’t think he ever did.” Y/N said and they sighed, “Like…he’s done a lot of the work himself and like…not that it hasn’t worked, he’s a completely different person even than the version of him I first met. But obviously he works on just what he sees he needs to work on. But like, she knows how to work him and he’s so convinced that she doesn’t affect him.”

“That’s not new…he’s always been in denial about that.” Alyssa said and Y/N wiped her tears away.

“What if he really does what he said and stays away until I change my mind about this? The baby’s coming soon and I can’t do this without him. But I also feel like, if I cave on this…it’s a mistake and I feel like he’s still vulnerable to her and that he will go back the next time something gets difficult. And if something this small had him like this I’m sure that with something bigger she’d somehow manage to turn him against me. I can’t live everyday on edge wondering when is the day that she’s completely won him over and he leaves me!” She expressed sadly with so much frustration bubbling inside of her.

“I know it’s not nearly the same thing as having Harry backing you, but we’re here for you and we’ve got your back on this.” Alyssa said kindly.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Gemma agreed as she gave her a little squeeze.

“Thank you guys. Everyone else didn’t hear the commotion right?”

“No.” Gemma assured.

“Good. The last thing I need is your mom, gran, and Julie ganging up on him when he’s already in a fragile state…” she sighed, “Thank you guys for listening. I felt like maybe I had been really unreasonable with my request to just understand what happened.”

“Not at all unreasonable, it’s just the Chloe-effect.” Alyssa said before making an icky face and Y/N giggled. “Now, I have a serious question for you, Y/N. Are you in need of a pedicure? Because I think we just need to get out of the house for the rest of the afternoon. Help you calm down a bit? Maybe Harry has an epiphany while we’re out.” Alyssa said.

“And if he doesn’t?” She asked.

“Well then at least your feet will be soft and your toenails a cute color.” Gemma said and Y/N smiled.

“Let’s do it then.” She agreed.

***********

Harry had taken a long drive to just think and ended up in Brighton, he had a lot of fond memories there. He didn’t want to talk about Chloe ever again and he could admit that he made a mistake in entertaining her again but he didn’t want to delve into it. He literally hadn’t realized how far down the rabbit hole he’d gone until everything piled up on him today. He was afraid to talk to Y/N about that part of his life because he felt that it would maybe change her view or opinion of him and taint their marriage, if they even had one anymore. Because sure, he was a grouch when he’d met her, but that was tame compared to the person he’d been when he was with Chloe. A part of that came out earlier when he’d said all those awful things to her when she was trying to stop him from leaving. And well, the moment he uttered all of those hurtful things to her he felt so ashamed of himself that he just had to go. She deserved more than a man who had so easily strayed away. She deserved more than someone who deceived her and said hurtful things to her just to get her to lay off.

He was terrified to go back home because he was afraid to prove Chloe right…that he wasn’t capable of loving and nurturing a marriage and much less a child. But whether he and Y/N had anything anymore after this stunt he pulled one thing was certain, he needed to sever all ties with Chloe because even he could recognize that everything started going to shit the second she was back in his life. Once again, he had been seeking her validation. He had intended to just be nice to her, he wasn’t sure at what point the tables turned but they had. He had somehow started out being the one in control and suddenly he wasn’t anymore and it terrified him that he hadn’t even realized it. He needed to just let that go for good, so he dialed her number and she picked up after a few rings.

“Harry, what happened?” She asked him right away.

“Just a huge fucking fight with Y/N…I fucked up and left instead of…giving her that explanation she asked for.” He explained sadly.

“Well, I get why you’re feeling so down all the time now! Your wife’s a real fucking piece of work.” she chuckled.

“Chloe, why would you lie to her about what was going on with us?” He asked and she sighed.

“Because I can see how miserable you are with her, Harry! And I also know you’re too much of a coward to end it. But you have to admit to yourself that this was all a mistake! Because that’s what this whole thing with her is, a mistake. I know you think that you’re cut out for this kind of thing, but you’re not!”

“And why is that?” He asked with a frown.

“Because you’re so… damaged, Harry! How can you be a father when you’re like this?” She questioned. “And I mean this with all the care in my heart, H. I know you think you’re doing better but look at how easily you came back to me! You asked me out, Harry and I accepted. Obviously, deep down you’re not over me and you’re unhappy with your life choices.”

“What? I wanted to catch up and hopefully get some closure, just the one time! But then you started showing up at the gym every day and texting me and asking to see me and talk to me about your problems and your life and I…I felt for you! I just wanted to be a decent person and help you, Chloe. But I…I won’t lose myself in you again.” He stated firmly.

“And do you really think you have anything with her after doing something like this?” She asked him, “Huh? While she’s off somewhere pissed at you, I’m here on the phone with you, because I need you as much as you need me, otherwise you would’ve grown a pair and stayed with her to fix things.” She said.

“This call isn’t for me to vent about the argument I had with my wife. I’m only phoning you to tell you that we’re done. All you ever did was tear me down and make me believe that because I was hurting and not being a great person then that I wasn’t worthy of all of the good things life has to offer. If you loved me as much as you said you did, why would you do that? Why would you make me feel like I wasn’t worthy of love when I desperately needed it the most?” He questioned and she didn’t respond, “Y/N loves me despite my mistakes, which I can assure you are many, and she loved me despite my hurt. She loved me when I was a miserable and broken shell of myself. She helped bring me back and I will love her eternally and be grateful to her for that forever. And I have everything I want and everything I need with Y/N. I really do wish you the best but-”

“How dare you?” She questioned angrily, “You’re just a good for nothing piece of shit, you’d be so lucky t-” he just hung up the phone and took a deep breath before just blocking her number and it was liberating. He was relishing in his small victory when a text from his mum came in.

Upon reading it he immediately forgot all about what he was thinking and called Y/N. He sighed when her phone rang out and then he tried again and no answer. He didn’t even think twice before he ran off to his car. He needed to make sure she was OK. It was nearly a two hour drive and he had tried her again and Alyssa and then Gemma and Skye and no one was picking up. He was about to call his mum back and ask, but then he’d have to explain that he had actually left and that would open up even more issues.

He got home in record time and the house appeared dark. He rushed inside and looked around and well, her phone was on the bedside table…maybe they had to take her to the hospital and they left in a rush. But they would’ve called him…he groaned and just as he was about to head out again he heard laughing at the door and he rushed to the entry way and saw and heard her, with Gemma and Alyssa. He sighed in relief as they opened the entry way and their smiles slowly fell when they saw him.

“Oh thank god, you’re alright.” He said and she looked at him with confusion, “Mum texted something about a panic attack.” He explained.

“Oh, that was probably from what I told them to get them to leave.” Aly cut in and he nodded.

“Right, well are you alright for now?” Gemma asked her quietly, but he still heard her.

“Yeah. Thank you for all the pampering this afternoon and for taking me to the Barbie movie.” She said with a smile to her and Aly who both hugged her tight. They didn’t fail to glare at him while they hugged her and were soon being escorted to the door. Harry just sat at the staircase as they said goodbye and soon Y/N was coming back in and slipping out of her sandals.

“I’m glad you’re alright. I was worried.” He said as he stood.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She assured and just walked past him and to the bedroom. He waited a bit before he decided to just follow after her, but as soon as he made it into the hallway he saw the last bit of the door close and then heard the lock click. He swore that it absolutely broke his heart to have her reject him this way, but he deserved it. Just seeing the disappointment in her eyes made him want to fix this. He walked up to the door and heard her shuffling around the room a bit.

“Ummm, I’m gonna go sleep up stairs then.” He informed and hesitated a bit before speaking up again, “I know I was…a total fucking asshole today. I’m so sorry, baby, I shouldn’t have reacted or left like that. I just…get defensive when it comes to this situation… And I just want you to know that I only love you.” He spoke through the door and just a second later she spoke up, her voice muffled by the door between them as well.

“And I love you too.” She responded softly before he saw the room go dark from the crack under the door. It wasn’t all that late but he’s sure that she was emotionally drained and possibly physically exhausted as well. He went up the stairs and got showered and then into bed.

Harry was so ashamed of himself and everything that came with those horrible four years of his life with Chloe. And he did want to be good enough for Y/N, but evidently there was still a small part of him that believed that he wasn’t and never would be. It’s not like all of the horrible shit he did when he was with Chloe just went away! He felt bad about it every time a memory resurfaced. And the one thing that should’ve made him feel better, but actually made him feel even more like shit was that Y/N still loved him. After everything he’d put her through today, not to mention the last few weeks of deception and even betrayal to some extent, she still made a point to tell him that she loved him. It was crazy to him…he would never withhold his love from her either, but he felt that she provided the good and all he did was hurt her and disappoint her. Even when their paths first crossed she had extended respect and kindness to him when he was awful to her. Maybe if he just explained to her why he was so worried about talking about this she would give him more time to figure out how to share this stuff about his past and how that led to what happened over the last couple weeks. As much as he wanted to avoid talking about it, fixing things with Y/N was far more important than his shame over his past.

With that new priority at the front of his mind Harry sat up from the bed and got into his slippers, he headed to the stair case and when he reached it he stopped at the top of it when he saw Y/N was on her third step up. They both just looked at each other for a moment before she spoke up.

“Are you really gonna make me go all the way up there after the day I’ve had?” She inquired and his lips split in a small smile and he proceeded to hurry down the steps. With each step he took down his eyes flooded with his tears and as soon as she was within arm’s reach he pulled her close as he sniffled.

“I love you so much, baby.” He sighed in relief at the feeling of her being in his arms again and more than that, she hugged him back.

“I know you do. And I love you too.” She assured him and he pulled back to look at her.

“I don’t think I deserve it sometimes.” He confessed through a sniffle and she frowned.

“We all make mistakes-”

“Well I’m the only one fucking up here and you deserve more than that-”

“I’m not perfect by any means. I lied about…the hot Cheetos and the Jaffa cakes.” She said and he chuckled despite his tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Yeah, that’s actually far worse than what I lied about.” He said sarcastically and she smiled up at him. She was hopeful that he was ready to share what had happened. She just wanted to understand him. “Ummm, can we sit to talk?”

“Please.” she said and he chuckled and helped her down and to the couch just in the next room over. He flicked on the lamp they had in there to give the space a nice warm glow and she got comfortable on the couch, her back to the armrest as she brought up her legs up over his and hugged a pillow to her body. Harry sat beside her, his hands on her legs and stroked over them softly as he collected his thoughts for a moment.

“Ummm…first off, again, I am so sorry for lying and hiding things from you. For continuing to see Chloe. For the way I’ve been acting the last few weeks, but more importantly for all of the awful things I’ve done today.” He apologized with a small frown, “I will never let myself forget what happened here, like…” he swallowed thickly, “Obviously it’s not the person I want to be.” He finished, “But in order to explain why I am so…vulnerable to Chloe’s shit…I ummm, I have to talk about my relationship with her and ummm…” He exhaled nervously and when his eyes met hers she could see the anxiety and fear and sadness in them, his hands even started trembling a bit and it absolutely broke her heart, “Baby, I mean this with my whole heart! I want to be able t-to talk about it but I can’t talk about this with you yet. And it’s not a you thing, I honestly have never talked about it properly with anyone.” He explained to her and her frown deepened upon hearing this. He’d been carrying this around all by himself for all of these years? He was certainly stronger than she had given him credit for.

“Being with her, those were the worst years of my life and I’ve learned to just accept what it was, you know? Like I can’t change the past and as much as it is what it is ummm…it still…it still hurts a lot if I think about it too much. And like… I wasn’t the best person when I was with her and like…” he sighed as he just worked up the courage to speak. He started anxiously picking at the sides of his fingers and she reached out and grabbed his hands, forcing him to look up at her, “Baby, I guess I’m afraid that if you hear how awful I was maybe you won’t feel the same about me or even look at me in the same way. I’m so ashamed about that whole part of my life and that’s why it’s hard to explain to you how this happened. But what I can tell you is that…I think a part of her is still like… she’s still in my head.” He frowned and she did as well, nodding in understanding. “And I have tried everything to just stop hearing her voice in there. Like, I’m already hard on myself but like…this is different. It’s like on a whole different level and it really makes me doubt myself. One thing she’d always tell me was that I wasn’t good enough for a family of my own. That because of my intense grief I wasn’t strong enough of a person to have…well, to have what we have together.” He said and Y/N shook her head in disbelief with a pout.

“She really said that to you?” She asked and he couldn’t bear to look at her as he nodded.

“Yeah. All the time. And I would see the way I’d treat my friends and my family and how…shitty I was and so I…believed it. I believed what she told me and I had made peace with it.” He chuckled sadly, “It was the reason why she “couldn’t be faithful” to me,” he said with air quotes, “Because I wasn’t good enough for a real committed relationship and I think that…when I do something wrong or I…hurt your feelings, like when I told you I felt trapped,” he said and she nodded, “I think ummm…it’s like a confirmation bias, you know? Like everything she said about me was right. Like I wasn’t built for this. Like I don’t…deserve it.” he explained and Y/N’s heart was breaking for him, “I hope this is enough o-of an explanation for you, but that’s all I can talk about right now without feeling like…basically like she’s won. Again.” He explained softly. Just the idea of him feeling like Chloe had won made Y/N’s blood boil in a way she had never felt before. She would equate it to the wrath of god. She couldn’t believe someone would be so cruel on purpose.

“Look at me, H.” She said quietly, his eyes met hers again with some uncertainty. But Harry was relieved that she wasn’t looking at him with pity, like he was broken. There was just love and compassion as she looked at him, “Look at what we have together and how far you’ve come from that! She didn’t win then and she hasn’t won now. You have.” She said to him and Harry just felt the lump in his throat bob violently before he started to sob.

“And yes, what you’ve shared is enough for now and you’re enough for me. More than! Always.” She offered a soft and encouraging smile, “And I do forgive you, baby. And your family forgives you too. And look, that’s all good and well, but I think you might still be so affected by all of this because…you haven’t forgiven yourself.” She explained and his eyes softened as he choked on another sob, “What you said earlier about not forgetting about what happened, I agree that we need to sometimes remind ourselves of past instances where we went about things the wrong way. Like we can’t erase mistakes, they help us learn and do better, right? But it shouldn’t be this thing where you’re holding your mistakes over your head all the time, baby. I love you so much and so does your family, none of us are ever going to hold your shortcomings over your head. So why should you?” She asked him and he shrugged as he gasped for air. “Oh, come here, my love.” She tutted and he just surged forward and nestled into her side as best as he could. “I love you so much.” She said softly.

Sure, he had made things right with everyone else he had hurt and it was enough for a while but he had never gotten around to making things right with himself. And ultimately the forgiveness and acceptance that he needed the most to be able to heal fully was his own, but he wouldn’t be able to do that alone.

“I love you.” He hiccuped, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You mean everything to me. You’re my whole life. You have to know that. I’m sorry.” He whispered over and over as she just held him for several minutes until his crying calmed down enough that he could properly breathe again.

“Baby, when I say this to you it’s just a suggestion and like…I want you to seriously consider it.” She said and he hummed, “H-have you ever thought of meeting with a therapist to like…work through all of this?” She asked and he pulled back and nodded as he sniffled.

“Yeah, I’ve made so many appointments but ummm…I always flake out because I think that…that they’ll get a look at me and be like how does some scary looking guy let another person fuck him up so badly? Like why couldn’t I have just left sooner or like…seen through her shit, you know?”

“Well, first off it’s no one’s place to judge you, specially a therapist. But also, when I said Chloe is not sane, I mean that, like medically.” She said and Harry chuckled and bit through his tears and she smiled, “It really wasn’t an insult to her, like just from the ten minutes I spoke with her it was clear that she has issues of her own to resolve. I’m sure she has the capacity to be a great person, like all people do! And I’m sure that the version of her you first met and interacted with and even…fell in love with wasn’t this.” She said and he nodded.

“Yeah, not really.” He confirmed.

“I mean, maybe she has her own mental illness that she never talked to you about or something in her past that’s made her this way. But like…if it’s something serious and chronic, like a personality disorder, for example…if you’re not emotionally equipped to handle that, which most people who aren’t trained professionals aren’t, it can be extremely traumatic to have people like that in your life, H. And I will acknowledge that you’ve done a fantastic job of healing on your own and regaining your light and your nurturing and loving nature! Trust me, I see it every single day, baby, and I’m so proud of you for it.” She reassured him, “We all love how hard you love us and value us all, but I think it’s time to do that for yourself too. I mean, just in light of being parents now it’s something to…to consider.” She said and he nodded, “Like…I’ll probably need some therapy too after the fallout with my family. Like, I think about it and I feel so angry at them and I feel…betrayed by them and I want to get back at them somehow.” She explained, “But I don’t want our baby to grow up and see that unresolved anger and spite towards them. Like, obviously what they’ve done has hurt me unimaginably and who knows how long this beef’ll last with them…” she sighed, “But like, it’s OK to feel hurt, but I don’t want to walk around for years being angry and bitter at them. It’s just not healthy, you know?”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” He said softly.

“You deserve to heal from this, baby.” She said and he nodded. They were quiet for a few seconds as she let him process all of this.

“Baby? D-do you think if I do…therapy that they’d let you stay with me until I feel comfortable doing it alone?” He asked and she smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, I think that shouldn’t be an issue.” She assured. “Though with the baby coming soon it might be a little tough.”

“We’ll just do it online for a bit then.” He said and she smiled and nodded, “Can I kiss you?” He asked and she nodded.

“Of course.” She said and he was careful and he kind of straddled her and leaned in to kiss her lips gently before pulling her into his side and getting comfortable beside her as best as they could with their limited space not he couch.

“You know, you’re the complete opposite of Chloe.” He said softly, “I think that’s why at first I hated you.”

“Hated?!” She gasped playfully and he smiled and shrugged a bit.

“If not hate, it was pretty close to it.” He confessed and she sniggered a bit.

“If I was the opposite, why would you hate me?” She questioned in some confusion.

“Because ummm…you weren’t her. Like I wasn’t in love with her anymore but I did miss the good bits.” He said softly, “I think that first day, after we had that little tiff and then you came back in and apologized? That just threw me off my orbit.” He said through a chuckle, “And I felt like a fucking child…like I didn’t know anything about human interactions. No one had been accountable for their shit and apologized to me in…fuck I couldn’t even remember. It made me angry that you felt I needed an apology because I felt like… I didn’t deserve it so I was a dick to you. Like…almost as if I needed to prove to you why I didn’t deserve your niceties or an apology. And down the line, it’s like, I wanted to see your ugly side but your reactions to my antagonizations were always the opposite of what I expected and…wanted to some extent. But that really shone a light on how badly I was being treated before and seeing you growing and flourishing and everyone liking you from the get-go…for me it was like…everything I’d ever wanted and wished for was being given to someone else. All that support and affection and friendship. Even I liked you, but I was jealous. And then you were so nice to me when I got stood up and it…gave me hope again.” He explained to her and she hummed in acknowledgment, letting him get it all out there.

“That’s when I decided to stop dwelling on what I had endured and just let something good happen to me because I really needed it. I mean, I had no idea what would come of me letting you into my life. Maybe it was just going to be another lesson and loss…” he chuckled, “But letting you in was the best decision of my life, whether it was short-lived or long-haul, I just knew that I would never be the same after you, in a good way.” He smiled and she did as well. “I love you in ways I never knew were possible, even more so now that you’re carrying our little boy, I mean…” he inhaled sharply to prevent himself from crying again but he couldn’t help it and whimpered on a sob before speaking again, “I’m sorry for taking what we have for granted.” He sniffled, “This is really the most special thing two people can do together. And it’s not lost on me that…that I have to prove myself to you now and earn back the trust that I broke. But I promise you that I will work hard every single day to show you two that I’m the person you’ll need me to be.”

“You already do, baby.” She assured him, “And we all get in our heads or make mistakes sometimes. And I want you to know that I don’t expect perfection from you. I just want you to try your best and I’ll try my best.” She said with a smile, “Saw this thing from Brené Brown once about how she and her husband check on each other when they reconvene after their days.” She said and he hummed. “They have a rule that between the both of them they need to make 100% and they have like a limit for what’s passing. So say 80%. Like if one of us had a super shitty day, we focus on taking care of that person and our family. Like maybe we get takeout instead, or do the laundry the next day…whatever it be that we need to put aside, we put it aside and prioritize caring for the partner who is struggling the most.” She explained. “And if both of our scores are less than 80 combined s’the same concept, we just do what we need to do to look after ourselves and put everything else aside.”

“I really like that.” He said and she nodded.

“Me too. And like…I feel like maybe I’m a bit too emotionally attached to your grandma because of what happened with mine, you know?” She said and he nodded, “And I mean, I’m also starting to just think a lot about delivering the baby and sometimes I feel like…what did I get myself into…” she said through a little chuckle.

“Oh, as do I.” He said and she smiled.

“Yeah…I’m terrified.” She admitted, “I also feel like maybe I might not be cut out for this sometimes and it’s not like I regret it, but sometimes I wonder if we moved into this too soon or…I don’t know, I just get in my head.” She explained and he frowned upon hearing this, “So I think, we’ve both been…struggling on our own for a while and not really communicating that to not worry the other. When in reality we’re supposed to be in this together and share the load and the worries and the joys. So I’m more than willing to just…have this last month just be us working this out together and preparing for our baby together.” She said and he smiled.

“Really?” He asked and she hummed, “And this has nothing to do with the fact that gran’s cleaned you out at gin every day last week?” He asked teasingly and she laughed.

“Well, just a bit.” She admitted and he chuckled, “But mostly because I’ve missed you the last few weeks.” She confessed, “I’ve missed you a lot.”

“I’ve missed you too. I have one condition though.”

“OK. Name it.”

“No more knitting. Please.” Harry pleaded with a small laugh.

“Fine…was planning on making you some slippers but-”

“I’m not an OAP! I don’t need knitted slippers. Also, they have no traction, so unless you want me to die tumbling down the stairs or something, no thanks.” He laughed and she giggled as well.

“Yeah, definitely not. So no knitting. I also have a condition.”

“Alright, name it and it’s done.”

“Brilliant! You’re going to tell your grandma about it just being us from here on out.” She said and he scoffed through a humorless laugh.

“Absolutely not. I can’t hurt her feelings like that…no way.”

“Well I can’t either! We’re besties!”

“We’ll draw straws.” He suggested.

“Baby, I’m pregnant. In such a delicate state, you can’t put such a stressful task on me. Besides, I already have to do the most grueling and difficult task bestowed upon a human being in just five weeks…so, I think you should take one for team Styles.” She said and he sighed loudly.

“You’re pulling that card are you?” He asked and she hummed smugly as she nodded and he chuckled, “That’s so mean.”

“I will while I can. Every. Single. Time. And you can take that to the bank.” She smirked.

“Fine…I’ll break up with my gran for you but you owe me big time for this…A favor of my choosing at the time of my choosing.”

“OK.” She agreed and he smiled and sighed happily as he relished in the feeling of her beside him once again. She literally was the best person he knew. They had fallen silent for a bit before his voice put an end to the quiet.

“My new passcode is your due date, 1707.” He said softly, “I changed it 2 weeks ago actually, before all of this because Archie really did download like 10 games and also managed to purchase like fifty pounds worth of something on one of them.” He clarified and she smiled. “And…Chloe’s first text actually has a perfectly reasonable explanation. Which is that we biked to SOHO, on those electric bikes? After we’d grabbed a coffee.” He said and she started to giggle, “Also we both happened to attend the same indoor cycling class…that’s how we saw each other again. So after an hour of that and then randomly biking to SOHO and back-”

“Pelvic floor and leg pain guaranteed…” Y/N cut in and he nodded, “God, cycling is just the worst.”

“It’s just not for everyone.” He said and she smiled.

“Just for sadomasochists.” She joked and he laughed.

“Should we go to bed?”

“Yeah, baby.” She hummed.

He was so happy they had been able to talk before the day was out. After this experience and conversation with Y/N, Harry mentally decided that he wouldn’t be so scared to communicate with her ever again. It never really went how he imagined it would. He was a classic self-saboteur and over-thinker, so he would picture the worst case scenarios more often than not. But Y/N always put all of her effort to listen and understand him and she was always patient and loving in her responses. She had proven it to him time and time again. She really was the best thing that had ever happened to him and he felt so lucky to be loved by her.

**********

The next day Harry had a conversation with his grandmother when he drove her back to his mum’s house. He came clean about everything and the reason why they needed this time alone together. She was understanding, of course, but did give him a bit of a talking to though. However, she too told him that she loved him when they said goodbye.

In lieu of her being over all day though, they decided to just ask her, his mum, and Julie over for dinner a couple times a week and that had actually been really pleasant. It gave Harry a chance to really brush up on his cooking skills, because Y/N and Julie had him spoiled back in LA. But soon enough he’d have to look after Y/N while she recovered from the baby. And tonight they were having dinner alone, but he decided he’d make her shepherd’s pie with cheesy top. It had been a childhood favorite of his and well, he hadn’t eaten it in nearly 8 years since he had chosen to be a friend and ally to the animals. But as he smelled it coming together he decided to cancel making one with meat substitute for himself and just indulging this time with her.

“Smells fantastic.” She hummed her compliment as she came into the kitchen slowly.

“Thank you, baby. I think you’re really gonna like this one.” He said as he continued washing the things he had used to prepare the dish. She walked behind him and lightly scratched at his back a few times before she passed him and went to the fridge. “What’re you looking for in there? Food’s about to be ready.”

“You had brought some cheese yesterday and I wanted a bit.” She said with a little smile and he chuckled.

“Sorry baby, s’in the food.” He explained and she pouted.

“Alright then…no snack for me.” She mumbled before turning back and walking back over to him.

Harry smiled when she hugged her body around his, her cheek smushed into his back before she kissed it a few times and then smiled, being just a bit of a bother as he tried to finish cleaning up, but he didn’t mind her clinginess.

They had been working really hard to patch up everything form before. Not just him, but her too. Sometime’s he’d find her crying over a new stretch mark or her achey boobs, or just from feeling so physically drained, or nervous about delivering the baby. He had no idea that she had been struggling on her own like this. The first few times she got embarrassed for it, but she still let him be there for her through it. And with him it was more of that fear he had about his ability to be a good father. He’d share his concern and doubts and they’d work through it together like a proper team, and just like that things were on the mend. Truly, being there at every moment, experiencing the way life was just coming into their little baby boy was tethering them to each other in ways that he never knew were possible. It was extraordinary to witness and even on the hard days they never failed to take a moment before bed to just be grateful for the life they had together.

… JULY …

Y/N’s due date was in two weeks and she and Harry had once again taken a drive to the hospital she was supposed to give birth at to really nail down the fastest route possible. She couldn’t really move so much now so they just went to the class to bounce on the yoga balls and socialize with the other people and to do the meditations and affirmations portion of it all. Harry could see the way it improved her confidence so he made a point to not miss the class. Being there he’d also started to make friends with some of the other non-birthing partners in the class. He’d even met up for lunch with a few of them once already and planned to continue nurturing those friendships. And well, he knew he could also count on Skye and Nathan to talk about these things if he ever had doubts. He loved how supportive Y/N was of him also needing to build his connections with other young and new fathers.

“I think the route we took yesterday was better.” Harry said as they pulled into their street.

“This one seemed shorter, no?”

“Technically yes, but I’ve noticed that they do construction at night and it gets backed up. So if the baby comes in the night it would be best to go the other way. We’d be taking more main streets, so the traffic lights will be in our favor.” He pointed out and she hummed.

“Good, strategic thinking, Mr. Styles.”

“Thank you, I try.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him, baby.” He said with a wide grin.

“Neither can I! I just…I want to hold his little hand. He’s been a good baby so far, not throwing any crazy ragers in here.” She said and Harry nodded through a chuckle.

“Right. Mum said I was pretty even tempered until I was a toddler. Do you know if you were?” He asked her, glancing over to her quickly.

“Not too sure.” She responded. “I’ve been thinking about my parents a lot.” She said and he reached for her hand and she offered a tight lipped smile. Harry knew this was a very difficult and painful subject for her to broach.

“Yeah? With the baby?”

“Yeah.” She confirmed, “I wish they were happy for us. For me…” she said glancing up at him quickly and he nodded. “Ughh, I don’t even know why it bothers me anymore!” She groaned in frustration, “It’s not like they’ve been present for the last 6 years of my life.” She mumbled.

“It’s your parents, baby. Of course it’s going to bother you.” Harry reasoned. “I know you don’t want contact but maybe if you’re up for it we can send a Christmas card for the holidays you know? That way they can see you’re doing good and also see Charlie.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I don’t want them to ever tell me I never tried, you know?”

“Exactly. I think it’s important that we do things like that. To show them that they’re still on our minds but that also, we’re doing really well. Just the right balance of considerate and petty.” He said with a little grin.

“Yeah, that’s so true.” She giggled. “I’m curious, what do you think will be your greatest strength as a dad?” She asked him and this made Harry smile as he thought about it.

“Hmmm…I don’t know…” he wondered aloud, “I haven’t thought of it.” He said honestly, “Maybe…ummm…” he said again and when she glanced over at him he was slightly frowning now. “Dunno, can’t think of anything.” He finally said lowly, as if disappointed in himself for not knowing and she was quick to scoff at his self doubt.

“Well I’ve thought about it a lot.” She said with a smile as they turned onto their street. “You’re really great when things get challenging, which I’m sure they will at some point, so I think you’d be the one who remains calm more than me. You’re also very patient, which I know will come in handy for…well the rest of our lives.” She said and he smiled, “You’re also really good at admitting your mistakes and doing what needs to be done to correct them, which is huge! I think responsibility and accountability are excellent traits to model for kids. You’re also the one with self-discipline and have far more structure than I ever will, and kids thrive on structure; you’re definitely going to be the parent that makes rules fun. You’re also very intelligent and a fast learner, and so open to change, so I think you will adjust a lot faster than I will to a baby. You can be fun and silly, which I think is one of my favorite things about you, you know when to be and when not to be.” She pointed out.

“I also think that the way you show your love is also very admirable and wholistic. Like you’re very adaptable with it based on the person’s needs. So if that means doing something for someone, carving out some time in your day for something, or just giving a cuddle when needed you’d do it. Literally, you’re so supportive, you do whatever it takes to show someone you love that you care about them.” She said, “Ughhh, you’re gonna be the best dad, H.” She said with a big smile as he parked the car in front of their garage and turned to her with a big smile as well.

“Wow, thank you. I got a little scared for a moment there…” he confessed, “Maybe I am very cut out for this.”

“Oh certainly.” She nodded.

“And you? What do you think you’d be best at?”

“I think I’m very patient as well, maybe not as much as you, but it’s up there.”

“I mean, you deal with me so I’d say you’re excellent at patience.” He said and she giggled.

“OK, well that…I also think I’m very good at empowering others and encouraging independence. So I think I’d be able to teach Charlie how to be capable and self-sufficient. I think I’m a great listener and very supportive. And I think that I’m good at communicating, so teaching Charlie right from wrong, boundaries, expectations…and of course, I think I would be able to love him wholeheartedly and unconditionally, which in the end is really the most important thing we could do for him, I think. I’ll definitely have to learn how to be a bit more firm from you, but other than that I think we’ve got mostly all the bases covered!” She said gleefully.

“I love you so fucking much.” Harry said with a loving smile.

“I love you too.” She hummed back happily and then her smile dropped a bit, “I’ve also been thinking about…like, if…” she exhaled shakily, “Like god forbid something goes…wrong-” She said and Harry’s good mood immediately melted away as he shook his head.

“Don’t even say that, Y/N…Please, Jesus…” He frowned with a disapproving shake of his head. Quite literally rejecting the idea verbally and physically.

“Like…I know it’s awful to think about but you just never know what the future holds and I just…I want you to know that if for any reason you’re faced with a difficult decision I want you to know that I fully trust you to do what you think is best.” Y/N stated as she reached for his hand and he glanced over to her, already feeling anxious at the prospect of anything going wrong. “I just…need you to promise me that you’ll trust your gut and know that I trust you too, with my life, babe. Always.” She said emphatically and he swallowed down that anxiety and nodded.

“OK. I promise.” He agreed solemnly and she offered a tight-lipped smile to him.

“I’m sorry if I’m scaring you. It’s going to be fine, everything looks great, you’ve heard the doctor say it as well. But just…just in case, you know?”

“OK.” He said before bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it before expelling all of the negative thoughts now with a deep exhale.

“I’ve ruined the appetite for lunch, haven’t I?” She said monotonously and Harry’s lips quirked up in the biggest grin ever, “What?” She asked at his sudden shift in mood.

“That was maybe the most British-sounding thing you’ve ever said! It’s exciting!” He chuckled and she groaned.

“Oh god, please stop me before I become one of those people with a fake accent…” she mumbled and he laughed.

“I think you might develop one over time…I mean, if this is your home now a couple things are bound to rub off.” he shrugged with a satisfied little smirk.

“I know that, but just as long as I don’t sound like an idiot…”

“Oh you will for a bit, but we’ll love you just the same.” He assured with a grin and leaned over to kiss her lips despite the little pout on them, “OK, my excellent comedic timing and humor have helped me regain appetite. C’mon, my love.” He said as he unbuckled her seatbelt before undoing his own and hurrying over to help her down from the car.

Their afternoon was pretty quiet and now Y/N was having a nice cool bath before bed. Sure, it wasn’t LA hot, but try carrying around all of the extra weight and tell someone that 77 degrees isn’t scorching hot. Not to mention, their house wasn’t a new build so they didn’t have AC, much to Y/N’s chagrin. If there was anything she missed about LA it was that, even Julie was struggling because she preferred sleeping in the cold. So the next best thing was to just sit in a cool bubble bath for a bit so that she could be refreshed before getting into bed. She was smiling with her eyes closed and her tossed back, relaxing against her bath pillow as Harry’s shower playlist and his singing along filled the bathroom with a joyous sound. Wings’ “She’s My Baby” faded out as he switched off the water and there was a second of silence before the unmistakeable chords of Hot Chocolate’s “You Sexy Thing” came through the speakers.

“Woo!” Harry exclaimed in excitement and it made Y/N’s eyes flutter open as she laughed at his very enthusiastic reaction to the song. “I believe in miracles…where you frooo-om, you sexy thing? You sexy thing you.” He sang as he sashayed out of the shower and into her line of sight. She glanced over to him, shaking her head and fighting to hold in her laughter because he was stark naked, dancing in the bathroom as he serenaded her, “I believe in miracles since you came alo-o-ong, you sexy thing!” he sang now while pointing straight at her as he approached her; his toned body rolling smoothly as he danced his way over.

“Please be careful, you’re gonna slip!” She warned through her giggling as he came over to the tub.

“Where did you come from, baby?” He sang with a theatrical, inquisitive expression over his face as he tilted her chin up, “How did you know, I needed you? How did you know I needed you so badly? How did you know I’d give my heart-Oh shit!” He gasped, his eyes wide with fear as he slipped in his own puddle of water just as he was trying to step into the tub.

“I’m telling you to be careful!” She laughed as she shook her head and scooted up, hugging her knees to her body as much as she possibly could to let him slide into the bubble bath with her. When she felt his warmth behind her she stretched her legs again and fell back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her as he rested his head against hers.

“Now you’re lying close to me giving it to meee-eee!” He continued singing against her as if he hadn’t almost eaten shit, “I believe in miracles…” he hummed as his hands left her bump and grabbed her thighs, “Where you from, you sexy thing?” He whispered now against the shell of her ear with a grin as his fingers inched towards her inner thighs.

They hadn’t actually done anything physically intimate for her in maybe three months, if not very close to that. And it wasn’t for lack of need, just the mechanics of it were getting weird for Y/N. She was eager to do anything for Harry, who didn’t want to accept unless she would allow him to reciprocate. But she’d always end up convincing him one way or another to at least accept a blowie or even just a hand job because lately his pleasure was enough for her. She just had this like…mental block when it came to her pleasure right now. She couldn’t concentrate enough to come for a lot of reasons. Like one time, they had tried to have sex and he was spooning her and she was starting to get close when the baby started to kick and it just got weird for her.

She obviously knew that physically Harry’s dick and their baby were nowhere near each other, but having both of those things happen simultaneously just killed the mood for her. She felt like they weren’t alone and it just made having an orgasm hard. Like did the baby feel what was going on? Or did all the chemicals her brain released from the pleasure make the baby more active? She had no idea, so she googled it…apparently they did feel something and after learning that it just got harder and harder for her. But did she want it, yes, and badly!

Harry was in a bit of a frisky mood himself. Over the last few weeks that they'd been spending alone, preparing for the baby, he had been experiencing these emotions he wasn't all that familiar with. He felt so possessive and protective of her right now, but in a way that made him lust after her. He knew that she didn’t feel gorgeous and radiant most of the time now, like she had at first, but to him she was the pinnacle of beauty, especially now. He loved how strong and powerful she was in every capacity. He appreciated the new things he learned her body could do and how it adapted and changed as she literally nurtured their son to life. He felt so proud of her, but also of himself. Lately it made him all hot and bothered to know that she was carrying his baby, that he had done this with her, to her. That everyone knew this when they’d go to yoga or out on walks or to run errands together. Y/N was beautiful, anyone with the ability to see it could see that, so when anyone would steal a glance of her and then see her bump while he protectively loomed over her they’d know that she was all his and that just made him feel feral and so fucking cocky.

He’d never given much thought to how real the theory of evolution was, but this innate and almost animalistic need to protect what was his, to show off what he’d done with her, to take care of her and their son, it was instinctual. It came from some unearthed primal part of himself that he didn’t know he had until now. And Harry loved this new side of himself and knowing that his precious and sexy little wife had a breeding kink basically had him simmering all the time. Sure, she was having a hard time orgasming as of late, but as he nipped at her earlobe while his fingers felt the slimy texture of her around as he dipped his fingertip at her opening, he knew that she wanted it badly and he was going to give that to her. He was happy to revisit some of their kinkier preferences to help her surrender to her pleasure.

“Baby…” she whispered as he guided his slicked up finger to her clit and swirled it around it, teasing her just a bit before she wriggled a bit and he took the hint to rub over her sensitive and surely needy little bud. Harry was relishing in the satisfied exhale that had her melting against his body.

“I know it’s been hard, but you’re going to come for me.” He mumbled lowly and she moaned, “Remember before? I’d just keep going until you couldn’t help but come for me? That’s how we’re gonna do this. Fuck, I need to taste you, my love. Need it so bad.” He groaned as his cock started to stiffen up at the idea of getting to lick and lap at all her sensitive spots until she was writhing in pleasure beneath him.

“Fuck, please H.” She sighed breathily and he smiled as he brought his left hand up to her breast.

He was gentle as he squeezed it in his palm and rubbed his thumb over her nipple, back and forth, feeling it growing harder and harder with each rub over it. She was already so sensitive there as her body got closer and closer to her due date. She was just so tender that his touches soon started to overstimulate her sensitive nipple until she was gasping. She could feel her clit throbbing and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to just focus on the pleasure, to not lose that spark that was flickering inside of her.

“Rub your clit f’me.” He instructed as his other hand came to her right breast. Her nipple already peaked from the pleasure she was experiencing, but when he started teasing that one as well she started to spark up. “That’s it, baby. Feel how good it is?” She nodded as she whined out lowly at just how overwhelming it was starting to feel. Her nipples ached and her back was slightly arching into his touch and out of nowhere he pinched them between his thumbs and index fingers. She choked on a groan before he let go and she was panting in relief as her body relaxed against his, “Did it hurt?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, but in a good way.” She responded lowly as two of her fingers swirled and brushed over her clit.

“‘In a good way?’” He teased her haughtily, repeating her own filth back to her, “Made you a wife and a mum, a nice respectable woman, but nothing’s gonna change the fact that you’re a filthy little slut for me, will it?” He teased and she whimpered as he pinched at her nipples again, “I know she’s still in there, my favorite little freak. That perfect little cum slut that took every fucking load, like a good girl.”

“Harry-” she swallowed thickly as she felt her body starting to burn from the inside out. Wincing at the pressure being applied to her sore nipples once again.

“And look at you now, pregnant with my baby for being such a desperate and needy little thing…” he mused, “And you’re as beautiful as the day I first saw you and then some.” He smiled, “Fuck, it drives me insane knowing that I did this to you. You’re all mine, aren’t you?” He asked and she nodded, “Say it. Tell daddy, you’re his.”

“Yes, I’m all yours, daddy.” She whimpered as her legs started to tense up as her pleasure increased.

“Yes, you are. Always gonna take such good care of you, my love.” he promised. “I’m gonna need you to get out of your pretty, little head and let me do just that.” He purred.

Before she knew it, he was helping her onto their bed so that she was reclining against the headboard and he kissed her sloppily before dropping down to his tummy and kissing in between her legs. His tongue was flicking at her clit over and over and over again. He was aiming to get her from sharp inhales to animalistic moans. How she had missed his mouth…she obviously hadn’t been in the mood to maintain herself as religiously as before and she knew Harry didn’t mind, but she was a bit embarrassed about it too. But feeling his mouth and tongue zealously working to get her off she threw out all the shame she felt. He really didn’t seem to care one bit.

“Please use your fingers.” She mumbled and she moaned in relief when he fit two of his long, thick digits into her entrance. He expertly massaged her walls with them, finding and stimulating her internal pleasure points before curling his fingers up and settling at her g-spot. It had been so long that she almost immediately started to lose it. She was so sensitive and eager for an orgasm. She wished she could properly see him, but the bulge of her belly was mostly in the way, she couldn’t even comfortably grab his hair or head, this caused for her legs to kick and writhe as she had no other way to express her pleasure. “Oh my god, baby! I’m so close!” She gasped and he moaned against her pussy before gently sucking at her clit until her legs were trembling and she was coming undone with a scream of his name. “Fuck Harry!” She wailed as he kept going despite her sensitivity. Her head was thrown back and she was whimpering at the overstimulation as he refused to come to a stop. Soon the torture morphed back into pleasure as she surrendered herself to the idea that Harry was set on making up for lost time right now.

“Oh my god, don’t stop…please, don’t stop!” She whispered breathlessly as her fingers dug into the bed covers until her knuckles were white. Harry’s moans seemed to be reverberating through her entire body as his fingers plunged deep into her and fucked her sweet spot until once again, she was crying out as her orgasm crashed over her. Rolling her in beautiful currents of pleasure. His continuous movements were drawing out the delicious, ticklish feeling that was bursting from her tummy through her body. “Mmm, that’s so good.” She hummed as he started to just lap over her clit, gradually coming to a slow to ease her out of it. Her breathing was ragged as the aftershocks of her orgasm caused her legs to twitch and tingle.

“You alright there?” He asked smugly as he kissed her inner thigh.

“More than. Wow, thank you.” She giggled breathily and he smiled before pressing himself up and leaning over her to kiss her lips quickly.

“Can I reciprocate?” She mumbled against his lips.

“Fuck no.” he hummed and she chuckled.

“Baby, please…” she begged.

“We either have sex or the blowie. And I’d much rather do the things that will get the both of us off. Unless you’re done.” he mumbled against her lips.

“Not done, just don’t know if I could even come from penetration.” She explained, “So I’d rather you get to come properly than to keep trying to make me finish that way when I don’t even think I will.” She reasoned.

“Well good thing I got you a little something to help.” He said and she furrowed her eyebrows as he drew back. “Wait here.” He hummed before pecking her lips once more.

“Not a problem.” She assured him as he hurried off of the bed, “Don’t even think I could move from this position.” She said to herself. She was so over being pregnant that she wasn’t even too concerned about the birthing part, she just wanted her body back for herself. She wanted to be able to move how she wanted, to walk around without feeling like every step she took created a small scale seismic event, she wanted to stop feeling swollen and tired. She wanted to sleep on her back, even if she never really had before, but she just missed having the option! She was about fucking ready.

“OK, so I got you this.” He said coming out with a pink silicone vibrating ring. It had little bunny ears though, which she deduced were for her clit. Harry had always been the one to bring toys into their sexual life and each time she’d been blown away, so she knew this time would be no different. “S’got 5 speeds.” He said as he climbed back on the bed, kneeling before her. “You can wear it so you can control it.” He said and she nodded, reaching out for it to inspect it.

“Well, thank you.” She giggled in amusement and he chuckled.

“Course, baby.” He responded with a smile.

Shifting from their typically intense and fiery preferences when they had sex, Harry was gentle and slow paced. He’d never been one to rush into things, but right now he was doing everything he possibly could to help her relax so that she could be in a headspace where she was enjoying every bit of this instead of worrying about everything. Harry’s lips kissed up her arm, making her smirk at the tickle from his scruffy facial hair. As he trailed up her neck she let her head roll to the side to give him space to suck and smooch at her neck to his heart’s content. His hands had made their way to her breasts, gently massaging them, easing the soreness that she’d been feeling more intensely over the last weeks. She was about to have his baby, she should allow herself to spoiled by him. She sighed as he licked over her nipple before sucking gently, letting his tongue flit about.

“Just not too hard.” She whimpered when he got lost in it and bit down on her a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” He mumbled before moving to the other, “You can start using your ring by the way.” He said and she giggled breathily before fiddling with it to get it on. In the meantime, Harry started suckling at her other nipple, making her impatient to get the fucking thing on. When it switched on she immediately got the chills as she watched the little “ears” buzzing vigorously.

“Help me, yeah? I can’t actually see down there.” She said and he popped off of her with a chuckle and pulled back to help her position it over her clit perfectly. He smirked when she gasped as the ear vibrated the whole of her clit. She was already sensitive from the orgasms he’d given her with his mouth. Even on the low setting, it was intense and he glanced up to see her eyebrows pinched together as her clit was basically embraced by the vibrator. “I’m coming!” She mewled and he couldn’t help but laugh in delight as she started to pull it away, but he held her hand there until her legs were trembling and she was screaming, convulsing and out of control. “Baby!” She gasped.

“You can do it. Give yourself another one.” He said with wild eyes and she shook her head. Of course she wanted another one, but she was getting pummeled by these orgasms, she’d been without them for so long that they felt monumental to her. “Or should I turn it up and make you?” He asked and she moaned and just tossed her head back as she waited for it to build up again. When she felt him sinking his fingers back into her sopping entrance she knew she was done for.

“Fuck me!” She gasped when he curled them into that spot only he seemed to have found. He was diligent as he prodded into it without pulling his fingers out too far. She exhaled shakily as she felt her orgasm building again. And he smiled before going just a bit harder, “Fuck baby, just like that! Fuck, don’t stop!” She pleaded.

“Yeah? Gonna come for me?”

“Yes! Yes…fuck you’re gonna make me come!” She panted and moments later her muscles were contracting around his fingers. Squeezing and retracting harshly as she grew sticky with her come. The wet sounds of his fingers inside of her growing louder as her orgasm started peaking. He could feel her hips following his movements until she started to come down from it. The pulsing of her inner walls becoming more and more sporadic. When she finally opened her eyes he let go of her hand and she pulled the vibrator away as she swallowed thickly to catch her breath.

“Good?”

“So good.” She sighed with a smile as with drew his fingers from her. He glanced down to see them absolutely coated in her arousal and come. He reached down to his cock, already dribbling with precum and smeared her sticky, milky mess along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He cursed lowly. He was way too hard, he felt the ache shooting down to his swollen balls. He was back to not getting himself off, only would come when she’d do something for him, so he was overdue for his own orgasm and his excitement was evident of it.

She couldn’t necessarily see between her legs to get a view of him stroking his cock, but she bit her lip hard and watched as his muscular arm shifted back and forth with his strokes. It was like the perfect tease. She had seen his cock so many times that she could just imagine how he was stroking it, how he’d thumb over the tip to smear his precum down and lubricate his cock for a better glide. His eyes were honed in on her pussy. She imagined it was pobably, pulsing and glistening with the evidence of her orgasms. When his eyes raked up her body he smiled.

“Damn, look at you.” He groaned, there was a hunger in his eyes that she’d never seen before. “Look so fucking perfect.” He said and she smiled, “It just makes me…so fucking crazy that you’re pregnant with my baby.” He said and she realized what was going on.

“Yeah?” She asked quietly and he nodded. “It gets you off that you knocked me up?” She asked, playing along and he nodded. “S’what you wanted, isn’t it?” She asked.

“Fuck yeah, thought about it so many times.” He hummed as he started stroking faster. “Thank fuck I did. You’re exquisite.” He said. “Can’t wait to do it again.” He smirked friskily and she chuckled.

“Please fuck me.” She said and he nodded. He helped her onto her side and laid behind her and helped her get a bit more comfortable.

Y/N’s heart was pounding with excitement just from feeling his big cock smushed against her backside. He help position her hand with the vibrator back over her clit. She whimpered and struggled with keeping it there, already clutching to the bedcover to not get too carried away yet.

Harry was taking his time, thrusting between her legs, wetting his cock with all of her slick. The squelching sounds of it all were enough to make her dizzy. She lived for the feeling of his tip catching against the dip of her entrance over and over with increasing speed until his arm wrapped around her body to pulled her flush to his body and then he just plunged inside all the way and she gasped at the sudden, but most welcomed intrusion. He moaned lowly and buried his face in the back of her neck, biting down gently as he started to thrust slow and deep. She forgot how thick he was as he split her walls apart with his methodical thrusts. She could hardly make any sounds as her body vibrated with pleasure. The bulbous head of his cock was colliding into that spot where his fingers had been and she was literally seeing stars. Harry could tell he was getting her off as her walls started to squeezing him, attempting to keep him in place.

“So. Fucking. Tight like this…” he strained out in pleasure. She was so wet and hot, and with her legs squished together her walls felt so pillowy and mushy around his cock. He swore he was losing brain cells from how incredible she felt around him. Harry was fighting every instinct in his body that was screaming for him to just pound into her mercilessly. But that very self-control was getting him off. God, he’d missed having her like this…he missed her body. He knew that she missed this too. Especially as she begged for him to go just a bit harder and when he obliged she moaned loudly and he smiled.

“Yes H, just like that…just like that, baby.” She mewled.

“Oh, I’m so fucking close. Please baby. Please come for me.” He panted.

Y/N was so close to coming undone. Her body was teetering over the edge, her toes curling as she clung to that sharp strike of pleasure she’d get every time Harry’s cock collided into her spot.

“Fuck…fuck, honey.” He rushed out and started grinding into her and that’s when she lost it.

Her vision was growing blurry and her jaw was falling slack as her orgasm hit. Y/N tossed her head back against his shoulder as a wave of ecstasy just washed over her. She saw white and her ears started ringing and her legs trembling in response. Her breathing was caught as her orgasm coursed through her like fire in her veins. She pulled the vibrator away as it was starting to be too much, but it didn’t do much since Harry was now about to come.

Harry stilled deep inside of her and she could feel the intense twitches of his cock inside of her as heavy spurts of his sperm shot out of him, filling her up. She let out a scream of pleasure that she hadn’t heard before as just feeling that inside of her made her come again, a g-spot orgasm…it had her already frazzled mind fracturing. Harry started thrusting erratically as he filled her up, milking out every drop he could inside of her. His praises and curses were spurring her on further and how she wished that she could’ve watched his face as his brain melted with that orgasm. She could feel him leaking out of her with each thrust now, wetting her thighs and surely making a mess of the bed beneath them until he slowly came to a halt.

“Had so much for me, didn’t you?” She whispered breathlessly and he nodded, swallowing thickly as he caught his breath.

“If you weren’t already pregnant with my baby, you sure would be now.” He panted as he held her close and then kissed the back of her neck. “I love you. I love you. I love you. So much.” He hummed before kissing down her shoulder. His hand found hers and intertwined their fingers.

“I love you too, baby.” She smiled happily, “Thank you so much for all of the effort you put into this. I needed it.” She confessed and he chuckled.

“Course. Anything for my girl.”

***********

The last week had been hard. Y/N swore she’d been going into labor a couple times only for her to make it through the days without anything more happening. She was physically exhausted and mentally drained, she just needed to get their baby out of her body as soon as possible. She was starting to get contractions, little ones, that really had no effect on her yet but then on the 14th, the mucus plug started to fall out. She did freak out when she first found traces of it in her underwear and after extensive googling she realized what it was and started to mentally prepare for the baby coming soon. And then on the 16th it’d been nearly the entire day of small contractions. But they weren’t necessarily getting any worse, they were bothersome, but not advancing or coming at a faster pace, but regardless she was vigilant and Harry was obsessively timing them. But when nightfall came and they remained consistent to how they had been they decided to just go to sleep.

Y/N woke up a bit after midnight because she was having this dream where she was giving birth. And as she started to wake up she felt a growing pain and then lots of pressure in her pelvis. She was passing it off as the baby moving or maybe her contractions were getting stronger. But then her eyes opened wide when she suddenly felt her pants growing warm as she soaked them through and the bed beneath her as well. She was wide awake now upon realizing that her water had just broken.

“Shit….” She grumbled as she threw the covers off and tried to hoist herself up but was struggling. “Harry.” She said, reaching for him and patting at his arm.

“Hmmm?” He grumbled tiredly.

“You need to help me up, my water broke!” She said to him and he just grumbled.

“That’s ok. You’re ok.” He mumbled groggily and then she chuckled and reached to her bedside table to turn on her lamp.

“Baby, please wake up. It’s almost time. Our son is coming soon!” She said with more volume and that seemed to get his attention as he sat up in a panic. “Hey, hey, relax.” She said as he looked discombobulated as can be.

“You said the baby is coming. Or was it a dream?” He asked looking completely out of sorts. Hair wild and eyes heavy with sleep.

“Yeah, he’s coming. My water broke just now.” She informed and his eyes widened as he looked down at her lap.

“Oh my god. Oh my god…OK.” He said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got out of bed. “D’you wanna head straight there or have a quick shower so you’re nice and refreshed, or what do you want to do?” He asked her in slight panic.

“This is the first big one, I don’t think we can even be admitted yet. Let’s just have a shower and get ready to go for when they come quicker.” She suggested and he nodded.

“Yeah, OK.” Harry nodded.

“Knew I should’ve done it before bed.” She mumbled and he smiled as he hurried over to her side to help her out of bed. He was moving fast and she grabbed his hands while he reached for her body to help her and he looked to her with confusion.“Come here.” She giggled and he knelt before her and she grabbed his face gently.

“What is it?” He insisted with worry and she sighed and shook her head.

“Nothing, I just need you to please calm down or I’ll start to freak out with you.” She said and he chuckled.

“I don’t…think I can. I mean…a baby, our baby is ready t-to be born…” he chuckled nervously. “Like…he’s coming out of you!” He said with wild eyes, “I mean…oh my god, I thought about the cervix thing again…” he shook his head and she groaned.

“Don’t think about that!” She laugh nervously.

“I’m sorry.” He chuckled and she sighed as she shook her head in disapproval, before cracking a smile at him.

“I love you, but please just…I’m scared enough as it is and I’m trying my best to just think positive. Let’s just have a nice and relaxing shower, you’re gonna have to help me shave though, for visibility purposes.” She said and he nodded.

“Right, a clearer view is probably best for them, right?”

“I’d imagine so.” She giggled.

“I just want him to be here already.” He said earnestly and she smiled.

“Me too.” She hummed and then leaned forward to kiss his lips quickly. “I can do this.”

“You can.” He reassured and then she took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, “I love you.”

“I love you. Let’s do it.” She said decidedly.

With that they hurried into the shower. She’d be in hospital for a day or so and he knew how relaxing showers were for her, so he was extra considerate of her routine. He wanted to skip some of her steps, but for her sake he stuck to them. Shaving her proved to be quite challenging, but they were laughing about it, reminiscing about that time he decided to lick at her sugar scrub only to learn it was in fact soap. And the shower was certainly helping her release all of the scary and anxious thoughts. He’d been doing perineal massages on her for the last month because she was so afraid to tear, so he did a bit of that as he helped clean her up a bit, even if it was just to reassure her.

“Just wait here, let me get your robe.” Harry said hurrying out of the shower. He was just about to help her step out when she suddenly squeezed his hands hard, her nails dug into his wrist making him wince until he glanced up at her and saw her face twisted in pain. So he sucked it up, waited for the contraction to pass.

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to hurt you.” She whispered lowly, brows still pinched and eyes squeezed shut as she calmed.

“S’alright. Is it bad?”

“I can manage, it was just sharper than I anticipated.” She said and he nodded.

“C’mon, lets get you dried.” He said.

Once he had helped her get dried up he helped her get moisturized while she got her skincare on. Then he helped her get into the clothes they had left out already and started helping her pack up her final things to take to the hospital. Y/N was lightly primping herself umm she knew she didn’t need to do it, but she was treating this like any other day. She was sticking to her routine to stay calm. Meanwhile, Harry was getting everything into the car, they had agreed not to call and wake Anne and Julie yet since her contractions were still about 20 minutes apart, so they still had some time to go.

“OK, everything’s in the car.” Harry said as he came back into the bathroom to clean himself up a bit as well.

“Perfect, thank you baby.” She hummed. He nodded and then reached into the drawer with his razor. “Don’t shave.” She said and he glanced up at her.

“What if it’s scratchy on the baby’s face?” He asked and she pouted a bit.

“But you look so hot like this.” She whined quietly and he chuckled and turned and grabbed her face and kissed her deeply before rubbing his nose against hers.

“Guess I’ll just have to be extra cautious with the baby.” He said and she smiled in satisfaction.

“Do you think we should try getting a bit more sleep?” She asked.

“What if you don’t wake up in time?”

“I don’t see how that would be possible.” She smiled.

“Right… alright, let me change the sheets.” He said and she nodded and went to grab clean ones while he stripped the bed. Once he had stripped them she went to put them in the washer as he redressed the bed. And then they were laying down again, Y/N on her side as Harry rubbed her back gently.

It was nearing 5am now and Y/N kept waking up with each contraction that came, now they were less than 10 minutes apart from what she was noticing. So once again, she woke Harry and now they were on their way to the hospital. They checked in with ease and when they checked her out she was 5 centimeters dilated. She was breathing through the pain like she’d been told, but this was on another level. She kept squeezing Harry’s hand hard, they were waiting for them to come give her the epidural. She just needed the quiet and he was so respectful of it. Anne, Hillary, and Julie showed up a bit after 6am, but were not allowed in yet since they were still waiting for the epidural to kick in and when it finally did and the pain had subsided enough Harry just encouraged Y/N to get a bit more sleep while he went out and shared her progress with their family.

Harry came back in after about half an hour to find Y/N fast asleep and he kissed her forehead lightly before taking a seat beside her and sighing contently. He felt overwhelmed with hope, happiness, excitement, nerves…this was huge. Harry felt so lucky to have found her. And more lucky that she had not given up on him and melted away his cold exterior with her empathy and kindness. He felt lucky that she had fallen in love with him and chosen to share a life with him. And now here they were, waiting for her to give him the perfect gift. A lovely little boy that would complete their little family. He glanced up when a nurse came in quietly.

“Hi, just going to check on her progress.” She said quietly. Harry nodded and squeezed Y/N’s hand a bit and she stirred awake.

“Baby, the nurse needs to check on you.” He said softly and she nodded groggily and just bent her legs up to give the woman space to see how she was doing. It was closing in 7:30am now and the nurse smiled as she reared back.

“You’re moving along quite well, quite quickly he’s an eager one. You’re at 6 centimeters.” She said with a smile.

“Oh good.” She hummed.

“Not too much pain?”

“No, this is good.” She assured the woman.

“Excellent. It tends to speed up from here, you’re getting close.” She said with a smile.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled.

“You’re very calm, this is good energy you two are maintaining. Keep it up.” She encouraged them and with that she headed off.

“Hear that, my love?” He asked her sweetly before pressing a kiss to her warm forehead. “Almost.” Harry hummed and she smiled and nodded.

“Yeah.” She assured him, her expression falling a bit and he looked at her a bit skeptically.

“What’s the matter? Are you in more pain than you’re letting on?” He asked her.

“I mean there’s pain but it’s very tolerable. This epidural thing is where it’s at.” She giggled and he chuckled a bit.

“I’m glad it’s working.” He said with relief. He knew this was probably the hardest thing a person ever had to do and he was more than glad that so far the experience was going well for her. As much as he wanted to meet and hold his baby boy, he wanted for her to have the best and smoothest delivery possible.

“Are you gonna look?” She questioned with a knowing smirk.

“I don’t know yet.” He confessed with a smile and she giggled.

“As long as you don’t pass out on me.” She warned and he sniggered.

“I’ll try my best not to.” He assured her. “You’re so calm. It’s making me feel bad for being so anxious.” He explained.

“Don’t feel bad. You’re not showing it. I think if I were feeling more pain I would definitely be more anxious. But also, if I freak out I’m just gonna have a harder time doing this and it’s gonna take me longer and I just want to meet him so bad!” She confessed, “I don’t want to take longer than necessary to finally get to hold our baby.” She said and he hummed.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” He hummed as he tucked her hair behind her ear tenderly, “I love you so much, baby. More than I ever thought I could. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I promise that I will try my best for you and for Charlie, always.” He said with conviction and she smiled.

“I know you will, H. You already do.” She hummed as she grabbed his hand and kissed it and he smiled down at her.

Y/N wished she could have Julie, Anne, and Hillary in there with her as well. She was only allowed to have her partner in the delivery room. She also felt an underlying sadness because anyone would want their family’s support in this moment.

“H?”

“Yes, my love?” He asked her softly.

“What do you think he’ll look like? And be like?” She asked and he started to tell her how he envisioned their little boy. It was keeping her calm and giving her so much to look forward to and to push away the slight disappointment she was feeling. Their hushed conversation was so wholesome and well, his voice always helped soothe her, but especially now.

“Baby, I don’t want to mess anything up, but something’s off.” he said and she sighed.

“I was just…thinking of my family. It’s fine, but you know, just…sucks.” She said quietly.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, “Maybe they’ll come around when they see the baby.” He said and she smiled.

“Yeah, maybe. My mom does love babies.” She said with a smile.

“Fuck, I can’t wait.” He said with a broad smile and she reached for his face and kissed his lips quickly. “Wanna try and rest a bit more?”

“No, I’m alright.” She said, “Maybe we can FaceTime the ladies now. Just have a nice chat with them.”

“Yeah. Let me get my phone.” He said before going over to the go bag with their things. They talked to Julie, Anne, and Hillary for quite a while. They were sweet and encouraging, wishing her the very best. Then they made a call to Alyssa and Gemma. Gemma had given her some tips. Reminding her to listen to her body through this entire process. During the conversation with Gemma, Y/N’s contractions started to get far worse towards the end, leaving her wincing and inhaling sharply.

“Best to get the nurse now, H.” Gemma said and he nodded.

“Love you, babe. You’ll be amazing, alright!” Gemma said to Y/N who nodded and then they hung up.

She was beginning to feel a bit more nervous, scared, excited, happy… there were so many emotions! But she wanted to be as calm as possible for this. She was doing a lot of meditating; when the emotions would get too big she would close her eyes, acknowledge them, take a few deep breaths and let them go, like she learned in yoga class.

“Can you bring me some more ice while you grab the nurse??”

“Yeah, of course.” He said and hurried out.

Y/N was so proud of Harry, he was doing a remarkable job of regulating himself to ensure that he continued perpetuating the vibe that she wanted to have in the delivery room. He was such a respectful and supportive partner. She really couldn’t have asked for anyone better than him to be beside her for this. Sure, she was doing the heavy lifting, but his support was an essential part of this delivery. They were a team and relied on each other to succeed. Now more than ever.

Harry returned with the nurse and her ice chips and when she checked she was bordering on 8 centimeters. This was excellent news. The nurse informed her that she would start prepping everything and that in about 20-30 minutes she would be good to start pushing. After a few minutes they started setting everything up and Y/N was starting to get nervous, so Harry was quick to grab her earphones and put on the playlist of her happy music. Encouraging her to close her eyes and just sing along quietly as he combed his fingers through her hair, handing her the cup of ice chips when she’d ask for some as the staff did their thing. And this is how they killed some time as they waited for the time to come.

They were currently singing along to “American Girl” quietly while she was free of contractions, she had about one song in between her contractions now, so things were moving along quickly. She was in the middle of crushing through some ice chips when her head fell back as she winced. She writhed around a bit as the pain peaked. She started to feel so much pressure between her legs it was unreal.

“Baby. Baby breathe.” He coached her and she tried to exhale smoothly, but it was coming out shakily.

“Oh my god…” she hissed with a scowl on her face when the worst of it passed. “I-it feels different than before. I think this is happening right now.” She whimpered, “Ow! Fuck!” She whined as her eyes started to fill with tears and he immediately reached for the call button on the bed.

“I’ve called the nurse, OK?” He assured she nodded. Moments later the nurse hurried into the room.

“Is everything alright?” She asked them.

“I feel a lot of pressure and I just…feel like I want to push.” She explained before wincing again.

“Alright, let’s check you out.” She said and then took another peek before sticking her gloved hand in between her legs to feel for any changes and her eyes widened. “He’s an eager little guy! I think you’re just about ready, love. I’ll go get the doctor.” She assured with a smile as she removed the gloves and rushed out of the room.

“You hear her, he’s coming.” Harry said to her with excitement and she nodded with a smile despite the pain she felt.

Moments later another contraction hit and she squeezed her legs together to fight the urge to push. She rolled her lips together and vocalized the pain through the harsh contraction. She moaned in pain and reached for his hand. Harry grabbed it immediately and let her squeeze as she exhaled shakily. Yes, it hurt how hard she was squeezing, he had no idea she even had that much strength in her! But this was as much as he could do for her right now so he would say nothing and take it, just as she was taking this feat on right now.

“You’re so fucking strong.” He said to her with a smile and she giggled despite the pain.

“I assume I’d have to be for this.” She said softly and he nodded and kissed her forehead with a smile. Just then the doctor came in with a few other nurses.

“Y/N, hi! I hear you’re ready to have this baby.” The doctor smiled at her.

“Yes. Beyond ready.” She let out a strained chuckle that the doctor reciprocated as she got geared up. One one of the nurses started to put a little monitor on her to gauge the contractions.

“Good. I think this will be a fast one.” She smiled at her. “Dad, are you planning on skin to skin with the baby?” She asked and Harry nodded right away. “Perfect, we’ll just clean him up and let him stick around with you for a bit.” The doctor said to them and they nodded. Harry then turned to her and grabbed Y/N’s hand, he was nearly trembling with excitement. His wide smile caused her to smile back despite the contraction that assailed her just then.

“We’re gonna meet him so soon!” He said as his eyes started to tear up and she nodded. She was already getting all misty-eyed as well just from all of the emotions. They were setting her up to get ready to push. Harry leaned down a bit and kissed her lips once more a few times, “You’re going to be amazing, yeah? So fucking amazing.” He whispered against her lips, “I love you the most.”

“I love you.” She hummed, “And remember what we talked about before.” She said and he shook his head.

“Yeah, but everything’s going to be great. OK? You’ve been in good spirits this whole time, been so calm, doing your breathing and mediations. You’ve got this.” He assured her and she nodded.

“I do. I’ve got this.” She repeated.

“Alright lovely, ready when you are.” The doctor said as she perched herself at the end of the bed, down between Y/N’s legs. Y/N nodded as one of the other nurses came to her other side and gave her a reassuring smile. “When you feel the pressure and the contraction bear your hips down and push, OK? Hold it as much as you can.” The doctor instructed and Y/N nodded. Her forehead beading with sweat as it suddenly started to feel a lot warmer than before. She glanced to Harry who just smiled at her reassuringly.

“Alright, get ready, Y/N.” The nurse beside her said and she just took a deep breath before exhaling it slowly.

“Here it is and push!” The doctor instructed and she put her entire strength into it. Clutching tight to the linens with one hand and the other in Harry’s, “Excellent job. Just hold it a bit more and good.” She said and she relaxed as the contraction passed and she caught her breath. She had about a minute break before she was instructed to push again and this happened a few more times. For the most part she was quiet, her screaming was all internal and she was taking in all of Harry’s affirmations as well, letting his words settle in and encourage her to keep going.

“Alright, great job. Give it one more go…” the doctor encouraged her. With this one she couldn’t help but groan in pain as the pressure just increased even further. It definitely was painful, more than anything she’d ever felt, but she could mentally cope with it, “Okay lovely, his head is down in the canal. You’ll be crowning soon, just take your time with this bit, OK?” She said and Y/N nodded as her tears started to stream down her face.

Harry was squeezing her hand just as hard as she started to push again. He was in awe of her determination. Of how calm she was, of how gorgeous she was and how strong she was. He bit his lip nervously as she groaned once again, pushing hard to help their baby descend.

“Alright, that’s good, Y/N. Relax a bit for me, OK?” The doctor said and she nodded and just tossed her head back on the bed as she panted a few times and Harry kissed her sweaty forehead and she smiled at him with tired eyes. It had been a long process to get her to this point. “Ready to push?”

“Not yet.” She said softly.

“Alright, just let it pass, let your body do its thing.” The nurse at her side said and she nodded.

“Can I sit up a bit more? I need a bit more leverage.” She said and she nodded and adjusted the top half of the bed to get it into a position that made her feel more comfortable.

“Better?”

“Yes. Much better.” She said with a gentle smile.

“OK, here comes another.” The doctor spoke up again and she bore her hips down, getting ready for further instructions, “Alright, lets focus on getting his head through with these next couple contractions alright?”

“OK.” She sighed.

“Here we go…a nice long push.” And she did as she was told, “Oh, very good, Y/N! He’s right there.” The doctor said, “And rest.” She exhaled shakily. The pressure was increasing even more and she was most scared of this part, but the position change had definitely helped her feel more in control of her pushing. “Alright, here comes another. Use the contraction, Y/N. Lean into it.” The doctor coached and again she grunted as she gave yet another push. The nurses were praising her as she gave it her all.

“Good girl, he’s just about to come out. His head is right there.” The nurse said with a smile.

“Really?” She sniffled and the nurse nodded.

“Yes. Do you want to feel?”

“Can I?” She asked and the nurse nodded and she felt the doctor guide her hand and she gasped as she felt the little bulge of his head at her opening. “Oh my god…” she suddenly started crying, she was so happy. It was a joy she had never felt before. It was emanating from her.

“You’re so close, darling.” The other nurse assured her and she nodded and pulled her hand away.

“Here, clean your hand on this towel.” The nurse beside her spoke softly and she did so.

“Is there blood?” Harry asked her softly and Y/N nodded at him.

“Do you want to see?” The doctor asked Harry.

“Yes, but no. If there’s blood I will faint.” He explained through a nervous chuckle and they all laughed along with him for a bit before they instructed her to push again.

She could feel as the baby was almost pushing itself down into her canal with her next pushes and the stretch of it slightly stung despite the epidural, but she could do it. She could brave this.

“His head will be out with this next one, alright?”

“Already?!” Harry asked excitedly. He just wanted to hold his son.

“Yeah, he’s ready to meet you two.” The doctor smiled, “He’s a tiny, little fellow.” She said to Y/N, “So one big push and the rest is the easy part, alright?”

“Ok.” She exhaled shakily as the pain started to increase as the pressure of the baby’s head at her entrance started to increase with the oncoming contraction. “OK…OK…I can do it.” She whispered to herself.

“You can. You are doing it, my love.” Harry hummed from beside her, “Gonna get to hold him soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She sniffled.

“A big push!” The doctor coached, “Perfect. Push!”

“Push, baby! Push.” Harry said softly and excitedly. “You’re doing it!” He chuckled as his own tears slid down his cheeks.

Y/N strained through gritted teeth as she gave it her all. The nurse at her side helped pull her leg back a bit for more leverage and the sharp pain followed by the release of pressure and the delighted smile on the doctor’s face told her she had done it. At this point her tears started to fall freely, she was just so relieved and tired and excited and over this and eager to see their baby. Her heart was thumping loudly.

“There’s his head! Good job!” The doctor informed happily and Y/N just sighed in relief.

“Alright, she’s turning him now…Oh, he’s a cute one.” The nurse beside her said with a smile, “Push when you feel the need to, we have to get his shoulders through.” She informed and Y/N nodded. She winced and gasped in pain through the next few.

“Fuck…fuck!” She mewled as they tried to fit the rest of him through.

“S’alright lovely, just keep pushing. He’s nearly out.”

“I can’t anymore.” She whined quietly as she felt like she had nothing left to give.

“You can, baby. You can, you’re right there.” Harry encouraged, “You’re so strong, my love. Done so well. You’ve got it. Just a few more pushes, for me.” He encouraged her softly. “Let’s meet our baby, angel.” He said through his tearful smile and she nodded.

“One more time, Y/N!” The doctor encouraged happily, “You’re doing great!…Excellent!” She smiled, “And last one…” Y/N strained, giving it all her might until finally she heard their son’s cry and after that she tuned everything else out. She suddenly felt overheated and lightheaded and so fucking weak as they pulled the rest of his little body from her.

Harry started sobbing the moment he saw them bring him up and then hurry to clean him. He turned to Y/N to see her head just thrown back as she caught her breath and he kissed all over her face, over and over. He was speaking to her but she wasn’t responding, she was just mentally clearing her head from this feat she’d just managed to get through. He was thanking her and telling her how perfect he was and how she’d done so well and how much he loved her as he struggled to catch his breath. He felt his heart explode as the nurse turned to him with Charlie in her hands and she asked him to help her with Y/N’s gown.

She glanced down to see Harry pulling down her nightgown and then seconds later Charlie was being handed over to her, the nurse wearing a bright smile as she got to hold her baby for the first time. She just let out a laugh of joy and hugged him carefully to her chest. He was a tiny little guy. She pressed him against her nipple and she glanced up at Harry with wide eyes at how he just latched on without hesitation. It was amazing that he just knew what to do.

“Fuck.” Harry sniffled as he looked down with so much pride pumping through his veins. Seeing Y/N with Charlie, that was his entire world just there. He was gentle as he reached out and and touched his little fingers. “He’s perfect.” He chuckled through his tears, “So small. He’s cute.” He mused as he just watched him feeding eagerly.

“Right. So happy he doesn’t look too much like an alien.” She whispered and he chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“Like 20% alien.” He said and she giggled and nodded in agreement before looking down at him.

“Hi Charlie, I’m your mom.” She hummed as she let her fingers gently trace along his profile. “Love you so much. You’re so perfect.” She whispered with pride.

“When he’s done nursing you can take him. Here’s a chair.” The nurse said and he nodded before turning his attention back to Y/N and Charlie.

“You’re an easy one.” The doctor said to Y/N and she glanced over to her, “Just push a little bit to get the placenta out.” She instructed, she didn’t even notice when it happened, but assumed it had when the doctor was gone from between her legs. They were in their own little world as they cleaned up the area and Y/N as well.

“Congratulations Mrs. and Mr. Styles.” The doctor said to them with a smile, “One of the nurses will be back a bit later to conduct some standard tests. Just to ensure the baby’s vitals are normal and then some quick reflect tests. Then we can worry about the paperwork for the birth certificate and to explain a bit of the process for your aftercare, alright?” She smiled and they both nodded.

“Thank you so much, doctor.” Harry said with a smile and she nodded before excusing herself. The nurses were around for a bit more before they assured her that they’d be back to check on them in a little while. They thanked them as well before focusing back on the baby. He was now just nuzzled into Y/N’s chest and he stretched just a bit which made them coo.

“Take a picture, yeah?” She asked and Harry was quick to grab his phone and snap a few pictures and a video as well.

“Look.” He hummed as he showed her, “You look perfect with him.” He whispered as he showed her the video and she smiled, “Can I send this one in the group chat?” He asked and she nodded.

“What were his weight and height? I missed it.” She said and he smiled.

“45.4 centimeters and 2.7 kilos.” He said softly.

“I don’t know what that means.” She giggled and he chuckled.

“Fucking metric system…hold on.” He said before converting it on his phone. “17 inches and just shy of 6 pounds.” He said and she nodded. He quickly sent off the video before setting his phone down on the bed and leaning back down to kiss her forehead. She turned and puckered her lips out and he smiled and kissed his lips.

“Thank you so much for reaming calm and for all of the lovely things you said to help me. Helped a lot.” She hummed and he chuckled and shook his head.

“Thank you for our baby! I mean look at him…God.” He hummed, completely awestruck.

“Want to hold him now?” Y/N asked Harry quietly. He was a bit hesitant, but nodded nonetheless. “Get you shirt off.” she said and he was quick to pull it off and he just set it down beside her.

He knew how to hold babies, but he still hesitated just a bit before taking him from her hands. He was so tiny and defenseless. He couldn’t help but suddenly recall everything that he’d been told by Chloe, how he didn’t deserve this, how he wasn’t cut out for this. But suddenly Charlie blinked his eyes open and just looked at him before letting out a tiny hiccup and Harry chuckled and grabbed him right away before pressing him to his chest and he sighed in relief as he felt his warm and soft skin against his chest. He couldn’t help but get all teary-eyed again as he wriggled a bit until Harry sat down in the chair they had given him. He rubbed over his back and patted it gently to help him burp out any air bubbles from his feeding. He was completely enamored to feel Charlie’s little puffs of air against his chest. They were so subtle, but he held perfectly still to ensure that he could feel them.

“Baby.” He heard Y/N and he glanced up at her with a smile and it widened when he saw her taking a photo or a video of him. “He’s falling asleep again. You’re a natural.” She smiled.

“Think so?” He whispered as he tried to glance down at Charlie and she nodded.

“Yeah.” She hummed, smiling at him with pride. “Gonna send this one in the chat as well.” She said and he nodded excitedly.

She was smiling so wide as Harry spoke to Charlie quietly. Telling him how he would love him and protect him and support him for his whole life. Telling him how happy he was to have him in his arms. She could see his apprehension melt away second by second as their baby got comfortable over his chest. He was going to be a phenomenal dad.

“Get some rest, baby.” Harry said to her.

“OK, but come here with him. We can share.” She said and he nodded.

Once Harry had enough space to sit with her, he settled in and she leaned her head on his shoulder as she watched Charlie breathing easily, just watching his little body rise and fall felt like the most perfect miracle. There were only good thoughts and excitement for what this new chapter of life would bring for them and their little family.

“Baby, how about we leave my tattoo as one angel and it’ll be Charlie? He’s our little angel, you know?” She whispered with a smile and he nodded.

“Yeah. I love that. Can maybe add some fillers with his birth flowers? What do you think of that?” He asked.

“Yeah, we can work on it together?”

“And you can give me a matching one?” He asked, “When you’re up for it, of course.”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes.” She whispered excitedly and he chuckled before leaning down and kissing her head and then Charlie’s very gently.

“Oh sweetheart, we’re gonna take such good care of you.” She hummed as she reached out to his little hand and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around hers.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you so much. You’ve made me the happiest person alive. Thank you.” Harry said to her with a big smile and she kissed his bicep before leaning on him and exhaling tiredly.

They had no idea what else life would throw at them, but with so much love in their hearts, they felt more than ready to brace through life together. To do anything to look after their little family. Nothing else mattered anymore, nothing else even felt close to this. It was somehow possible to feel more than joy. More than love. It’s like a whole new part of their hearts had suddenly been unlocked. This was the best day of their lives.

“Welcome to the world, Charlie. You’re gonna love it.” Harry whispered happily.

... THE END ...

Found this today. Not sure if the tagged blog is the creator, but the account is linked in the image:)

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jkstompers · 2 years

Text

the flower festival | jjk

pairing: alatfsg!couple, jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: sexual tension and corsets don’t mix… unless you have a willing prince that has been dreaming to unlace it himself.

genre: best friends to lovers, smut, fluff, royalty!au, crown princess!oc, prince!jk

warnings: 18+!!, mature!!!!!, making out, some mirror play (barely), heavy petting, oral sex (f + m receiving), cum-eating

word count: 11.8k

author’s note: hello everyone! ๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑ it’s been a while since i’ve posted this couple! i’ve been super hesitant to post this because writing smut is such a weak point for me and i wasn’t satisfied with the smut in this for the longest time, but i’ve edited it enough to make it bearable. so pls let me know what u think! .^◡^. also if there are any typos i am so sorry... but i hope u enjoy either way! (｡>﹏<)

banner pic cred here!

read the previous part here!

patience is a virtue.

on the first of may, that night when jungkook proposed to you. the two of you ended up spending the night in the city. everyone else was allowed to go out and celebrate, but you and jungkook had to be hidden from the public eye, so while you guys were holed up in your apartment; they took shots in honor of the two of you.

alone, you and jungkook did the normal things engaged couples do. eat delivery pizza, watch pretty little liars, and of course: make out.

when you kissed jungkook that night, something changed between the two of you. which was expected, but you can never prepare for how different things could be. there was some awkward talk beforehand, like how you were trying to explain everything after season two (because that’s when jungkook stopped watching.) but, he always knows when and how to strike.

“so are spencer and toby still together? i thought he betrayed her.” jungkook asks intently, biting off a piece of his pizza crust.

you suck in a breath through your teeth. “it’s complicated— you really just have to watch it to understand everything.”

“yeah?” he asks, staring at your face and leaning his cheek against his fist. the sound of emily talking in the back fades into the background for him. he was listening at first— about how toby only did it to protect spencer but soon enough, the words started going into one ear and out the other. he was only really listening to how sweet your voice sounds. you explain the show’s twists and turns because you know jungkook wouldn’t watch the rest of it. he was done with the show by season two. spoby was his ship. finding out that toby was a member of the a team sent him over the edge— he vowed to never watch the show again because it’s treasonous to do that to the woman you love. (and since he vowed to never watch it again, he’ll never know that they actually end up together.)

so as you explain everything, jungkook pretends he’s listening. technically he is. staring directly towards your lips, watching your lips turn into a smile when you realize that he wasn’t catching anything you were putting down. “can you repeat anything i said to you?”

“what?” he laughs, lifting his head from his hand. “my apologies, princess, i was too busy thinking.”

“about?”

“your lips.”

the two of you turned a new leaf. you were in no way going to deny yourself the luxury of jungkook’s lips, especially as a princess; you are allowed everything you could ever want. and all you want right now, is him.

it starts slow, one sweet kiss that has the two of you giggling. three kisses that lead the slower pace. then so on. jungkook swipes his tongue against your bottom lip. the both of you kiss through giggles and gasps. you climb onto his lap after a few minutes of lip locking and sit yourself down on something prominently hard. you can’t help but breathe out a moan at the feeling. it makes jungkook groan against your lips. the feeling of your warm core on him makes his head spin.

he calls for a time out, laying his head against the couch to catch a breather. you know, allow himself to relax. it was fun, provoking jungkook when he was like this: flustered. so as you sit on his lap, his problem is still very evident. you quirk an eyebrow and ask, “are you hard?”

jungkook lets out a little laugh before lifting his head back up to look at you. a roll of his eyes and a small smile as he replies, “not even gonna answer that.” he dives back in, sliding his tongue against yours as you moan out. his hands on your lower back, pulling you closer and closer until you were only one step away from doing the deed.

“are we—” you start but jungkook already knows what you’re going to say.

“fuck— i’m sorry, princess. too much?” he pulls himself away. “you said you wanted to take it slow.” he holds you gently in his lap, not as close as before. he’s biting his lip now, scared that he did take it too far.

you blush. “right— yeah, of course, slow.” you nod incessantly, trying to calm yourself down even though you’re one hundred percent sure your underwear is soaked. your reply puts him at ease, he can hear that you’re as flustered as he is.

with a gentle laugh, he holds your cheek in his hand. “whenever you want it, just know i do too.” he assures you. “but i want to do this right, wanna make sure everything is perfect, you know?” the way he’s tilting his head to the side and giving you that lazy smile; it’s testing your abstinence. you could just take him here and now. but you refrain, understanding that it’s just probably not time yet.

“i know.” you nod again, sheepishly. “hungry?” you ask him as you shuffle off of his lap.

he laughs at the way your face turns pink. “one more kiss.”

and so it went on. day after day. week after week. leading to now. it’s almost the end of may. you and jungkook are doing good, abstaining from sexual desires by basically avoiding each other whenever the urges come. neither of you are sure you can hold out any longer. but the two of you put up a strong front. jungkook doesn’t know that you’d pounce on him within a second if he asked. you don’t know that jungkook would kiss every inch of your skin if you told him he could. there’s just a lot of nervous feelings surrounding sex between the two of you. a kiss is one thing, but sex is another.

besides the copulation conundrum; spring is in full swing. the flowers in raemor are in full bloom. the pretty pastel colors remind you of the special time that comes every year.

the annual raemor flower festival!

every kingdom in the world is invited; they’re welcome to party and stay at the palace whenever the flower festival comes around. with the multiple rooms in the castle, two chateaus under your name, and the jeon family's castle, it was safe to say that you could never run out of space to help house all the families that were invited to the festival.

it took place over a week; sometimes people would stay the entire week, a couple of days, a night, or maybe even just a couple of hours. it was just a huge sleepover party that welcomed every kingdom of the world to check out how pretty the flowers are in raemor. it was also a time to network, befriend more people, and assure that alliances were kept.

you’d heard from blue that this year is expected to be the largest turn out in history, and it’s all because of you and jungkook. your engagement has attracted the attention of almost every kingdom. everyone wants to be invited to the wedding, the coronation, the baby shower— they want to see it all. they want to see the fairytale dream come true!

“are you nervous?” jungkook comes up from behind you, snaking his hands around your waist as he gives you a hug. you’d been watching and assisting the staff as they begin to set up the tables and clean up the garden.

“for what?” you place your hands over his, leaning into his warmth. jungkook was always warm for some reason, even if he wasn’t dressed properly for the weather. just like now, it was still morning and the sun hadn't properly risen. but he seemed to only be wearing a short sleeved shirt and the sweats you got him.

“the festival,” he answers, pulling you closer to him so that you're snug against his front. “i heard everyone is coming, and i mean like, everyone.”

a part of you is nervous, terrified really. it’s your first real, real event ever since your return. your welcome back dinner didn’t really count since it was mostly just family and close friends of the crown. then the suitor/supposed-to-be engagement party didn’t really count because you didn’t do much besides sit down, chat, and mope about jungkook. but this, this was a meeting that involved international relations. people that you haven’t seen in years, and some you haven’t even met yet. “kind of,” you shrugged. lying through your teeth.

“your mother was talking to me about how she’s gonna make you redo your etiquette training,” he informs you. you turn around, ready to argue your cause that you’ll do just fine, but you got side tracked easily.

jungkook is just so pretty. the title of prettiest prince was well deserved, because when you turned around, one look at his face was enough to make you stutter and stumble over your words. “she— she what?! when?”

“yeah, i think she will be training you for the days leading up to the festival.” he explains, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweats. his morning look is unreasonably attractive. messy hair and slightly puffy face. if you could, you’d shower his face in kisses right now. realizing your stare, he smiles. “like what you see?”

you roll your eyes, “yes, my pretty prince.” you press a finger onto his chest, “you better help get me out of etiquette lessons or else.” you warn before walking back into the castle. you continue pointing to him with a direct glare as you pass the big double doors that lead back into the castle. you can only see his face break into a smile before he shrugs sarcastically.

“you’re on your own, princess!”

you’d learned that jungkook wasn’t lying about your mother wanting to redo your etiquette training. she wasn’t impressed by the way you carried yourself during your would’ve-been engagement party. so, for the past few days you’ve been balancing books on your head because she said that you slouch your back when you walk. then at dinner she would be eagle-eyed, making sure you were picking up the right utensils. she would correct your legs when you were sitting, telling you to cross at the ankles and to sit the right way.

“i can’t even breathe properly, according to her.” you groan, walking with jungkook down the hall and to the garden. another one of your mothers training sessions was about to start. she warned you not to be late or else she’d make it extra long today.

it was the day before the festival. in a few hours, it would be the welcoming dinner which is when everyone will attend. some guests had already started to arrive but your mother wasn’t satisfied by the way that you still weren’t able to walk with three books stacked atop your head. she just had to squeeze in one more etiquette class.

“at least it’s done after today,” he laughs, “then you just have to remember what you learned and make sure you’re being the most princess-y princess.”

“right,” you scoff playfully.

“___! come on! we’ve got to get started now!” your mother calls from the edge of the garden. you look at jungkook, silently pleading for him to save you before you walk down the stairs and to her.

he goes inside for a little bit; answering questions from the early arriving visitors and helping the staff put the finishing touches on everything. before he goes back outside to meet with you, he grabs some tea and a little snack for the both of you. when he comes out, you’re walking in a straight line with three books stacked on your head. they looked heavy, he wonders if it hurts.

jungkook watches from afar, smiling at the way you wobble when you walk. bottom lip stuck between your teeth in concentration. you’re just about to finish the walk when the top book falls, making the rest of the fall too.

“where has your good posture gone, my child?!” your mother giggles from the other side.

“highschool and college will do this to you, mother! this is how you know i was a good student!” you groan, picking up the books and trying it again.

you were determined, and you’d eventually get it. the second try you were able to walk back and forth the line without dropping the books. when your mother approves, you plop onto the grass beside the cobblestone. a sigh of relief coming from your mouth.

that’s my girl, jungkook almost says out loud before he realizes a presence beside him, startling him. she’d probably been standing there for a while. there was a slight grimace on her face, staring— almost glaring— your way.

“it is quite bizarre that the people want to make her queen, isn’t it? i mean, look at her,” she scowls. jungkook looks around to see if she’s talking to anyone else, but he’s the only one near. obviously, she was talking about you, she was facing your way and mentioned the fact that you’d be queen. you’re next in the line of succession, of course you’d be queen. it was dumb thing for her to say.

he turns and looks at her with a disgusted, but mostly confused expression. “she is the king's daughter— we don’t have to make her the queen, she is going to be queen, it’s in her blood.”

she’s quiet at first from the response. apparently she was expecting a different reply. jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever met this lady. she seems just a little older than the both of you. he suspects she’s probably from here, a highborn of some noble. it’s both surprising but somehow expected. there’s been reports recently of some extremist raemorians that have spoken out against your becoming of the queen. they don’t trust you, as you’ve been gone for so long and only come back now. they see it as you’ve abandoned them, and only came back to marry jungkook, and if you were to choose, you’d rather be with the outside world than raemor.

but jungkook knows that’s not the case— he can see how much you missed the kingdom. in the way that you spend a little more time walking around than you used to. the way that you take forever when you talk to the citizens of the village. you care about raemor— not just because of jungkook or because you had to come back. but because this is your home, this is your birthplace, this is your family.

“she doesn’t behave like a princess, let alone a queen.” she rolls her eyes, breaking jungkook out of his train of thought. “if only the queen bore another child, maybe they would be more worthy of the crown.”

it was bold of her to be speaking this way about you and your family. especially to him. she had to have known that jungkook was a close friend of the crown. there are pictures and paintings of all of you around the palace, some in the city too— did she think he secretly despises you? she could not have been more wrong.

“i’m not sure who you think you’re talking to, but if you don’t want to be on the kings bad side, i suggest you keep your statements to yourself, because that girl there—” he points to you, successfully walking with four books stacked atop your head. a smile on his face before he finishes his statement, “—is my betrothed, and i will not hesitate to defend her.”

that seems to get her, and if she wanted to say more, jungkook didn’t give her the chance. he walked down the stairs and to you just after, scones on a plate in one hand and tea in the other.

“great job on the books.” he congratulates, handing the plate to you.

“thank you,” you give him a proper curtsy. “are we done now, mother? i wanna take a nap.” turning to your mother with a mouthful of food. she gives you a playful glare. you chew your food fast and swallow before asking again. “please?”

“one hour,” she tells you. “you’ve got to be up and ready before it gets dark, it's the welcome dinner tonight, you know that.”

“you got it!” you smiled, taking jungkook’s hand and dragging him back into the palace, up to your room and plopping onto your bed. a good nap is what the two of you need, especially since the two of you have been waking up at seven in the morning to help out these past few days.

the sound of the alarm on your phone blaring makes you jolt up, jungkook too. “your alarm is a bit harsh, don’t you think?” he rubs his eyes. he was right, it was the scary one, that sounded like you pressed the wrong button in a control room.

“how else am i going to wake up?” you laughed, shutting off the alarm and stretching in your bed. “time to get ready.” you sigh against your sheets, eyes fluttering closed once more.

jungkook pulls you up when he sees that you’re about to fall asleep again. “rise and shine, princess.” your body feels like jelly, you collapse against him and groan.

“protect me from the corsets, jungkook.” you plead against his chest.

“you don’t have to wear them.” he shrugs, “jieun didn’t—” and you’re sending him a glare before he can finish the sentence. “sorry.” he scratches the back of his neck.

“mother said i have to— she said it will help my posture.” you groaned. “plus, she said if i wasn’t wearing my corset for the festival— she’d find me and put it on me herself— i am not risking that.” you shake your head in fear.

“fair enough.” jungkook laughs. trying once more to get you up but you plop down again, unable to leave the comfort of your sheets.

speaking of your posture, your mother would be disappointed if she saw you right now. your spine was at an almost ninety degree angle, jungkook tries to hold you up but you keep slumping down. before you know it, your doors are being opened and the sound of your two best ladies rings in your ears. “it’s time, princess!” chaeyoung jumps onto the bed.

“we’ll take it from here, your highness.” chungha tells jungkook, and he nods, letting go of your jelly body gently and watching as you plop back down on the bed.

before jungkook leaves the room, he raises your left hand and gives a gentle kiss to your ring finger. “i’ll see you later, princess.” he smiles against your knuckle. it’s the only thing that got you to sit up, so you could look at him properly. after you bid him adieu, he makes his way back home to get ready himself. his friends are also hiding out in his room, ready to style the prince for the flower festival.

the dress you chose was beautiful, a pretty light green color that reminds you of the leaves from the flowers you were celebrating today.

they allow you to get into your undergarments and when you’re ready, they help you slide the loose corset on. it’s been five years since you last wore one. your ribs and stomach have been allowed to be free and enjoy life. but now, it’s once again being subjected to weird and unusual punishment.

chaeyoung and chungha promise that it shouldn’t hurt too bad. it’s supposed to be one of the most comfortable corsets in the market.

“just remember, take in all the air you can and then hold it, yeah?” chaeyoung explains. you nod, taking in a few more breaths before she moves behind you alongside chungha. “okay, ready, breathe!” she calls out, pulling the laces and pulling them tightly.

they were right about it being a lot more comfortable, it felt nice against your skin but it was still a corset. after some time, even the finest fabrics will feel like sandpaper.

“we’re late.” chungha points out, nodding towards the clock that reads 7:15.

“crap!” you gasped. “does it really take that long to help a girl dress up?!” they finish tightening the corset and rush to slide the gown on. they cinch the waist of the dress and tie the knots into pretty bows.

“corsets are an art, they take time,” chaeyoung says. she would know, half of her closet is corsets; she loves the hell out of them. she was studying fashion the last time you checked, you hope she still is.

you’re sitting at your vanity, digging through your jewelry box to see which pieces would look good with your dress. chungha styles your hair. she decides to go for a flowy look today, leaving your hair down and adding some texture with gentle curls before adding tiny flowers through the strands to match with your dress. you were truly raemor's crown princess with this look. chaeyoung applies your makeup, a natural look with neutral browns to fit in with the nature theme you were going with. then you were sifting through the necklaces you own, deciding on the simple gold chain and dainty gold rings. last but not least, the honorary raemor flower crown that is passed down to every princess of raemor. it’s been yours for the past twenty years. it’s never fit as perfectly as it does today.

“you are stunning, princess!” chaeyoung and chungha praise you as you stand from your vanity, giving them a little twirl, they cheer some more.

you let out a laugh, “are you ready for one of the biggest parties of the year?” raising your eyebrows.

you all let out a whoop and make your way outside of your room. allowing the three of you to calm down as you walk out and towards the ballrooms second story entrance. you and your ladies looking prim and proper as you arrive half an hour late to the celebration. you stop just in front of the door and the announcer calls out the names of your ladies first, the two of them step through the huge doors and walk down the stairs on their own.

as you let out a breath, you tell yourself that all the nervousness will go away. that you won’t tumble down the stairs and that your crown won’t fall when you bow and curtsy. when you hear the announcer call your name and the big double doors swing open for you. your breath is caught in your throat. the sight of at least a thousand people in one room; it frightens you.

it’s almost silent in the room, the only noises were quiet gasps, whispers, and the faint entrance music playing in the background. your eyes search through the room to find someone familiar, your mother, your father, your ladies, anyone! and just as you thought you were about to run away. you spot jungkook at the back of the room, in front of the open doors of the ballroom with the biggest smile on his face. he’s so handsome, his hair parted and his hands in the pockets of his tuxedo. seeing him makes your nerves wash away.

with that, you bow your head slightly and begin your descent down the stairs. you watch as jungkook snakes his way around the crowd to make it to your side when you reach the bottom of the steps. you bow once more and a round of applause breaks out into the room. multiple praises, shouts of compliments come your way and you can’t help but blush.

“you are breathtaking.” jungkook approaches you, whispering close to your ear.

“as are you,” you tell him. he smiles at you as he holds his arm out for you to hold. you greet everyone as you make it through the huge room, saying hi to people you haven’t seen since you left, to people you’ve never met before, and to people you just saw an hour ago. at the end of the line, your parents stand, proud of their beautiful daughter.

“you really are the crown princess of raemor.” your father takes you into his arms, kissing atop of your head.

your mother sneakily checks if you’re wearing a corset by giving you a hug, her arm wrapping around your waist to check for the ribs of the garment. “you’re doing amazing, my love.” she laughs, “i won’t torture you about it anymore.”

“thank you.” you groaned. laughs erupt between the two of you and she tells both you and jungkook to go and mingle. it was the best time to form stronger alliances and now since the two of you are officially engaged, everyone will want a piece of the pie. they want to know if they’ll be invited to the wedding, if they’ll be in the wedding party (even though you aren’t close to most of these people.)

and that was exactly the case when it came to the marchioness of spain. you never really knew her all that well, she doesn’t really come around very often and you’ve only ever visited spain twice in your entire life. jungkook had separated from you because the prince of france took him away for a drink with him and his buddies, leaving you with his sister: the princess of france and the marchioness. they’re apparently the best of friends.

you’re on your third fake laugh when the marchioness finally asks what you think she’s been itching to this entire conversation. “have you chosen your maid of honor yet?” she asks.

with a pained smile, you shake your head and lie through your teeth. “no, i haven’t.” of course, i have. it’s seungyeon.

she gives you a little wink, “well, i’m always open to it, you know?” you know she’s being serious by the way that she looks so hopeful about it. it made you feel kind of bad. but the maid of honor spot is meant for someone that you’re actually close to, not someone that you felt bad for. you could only give her another big, fake smile. in hopes that she’ll lay off the idea.

the princess of france butts in, “but you’re married, you can’t be a maid of honor.” she swirls her champagne around in her flute, shooting the marchioness a look.

“i can be a matron of honor.” she bites back. her eyes narrowed and a very apparent glare started to form. the two of them begin having the most intense staring contest in the world. you couldn’t even believe you were in the middle of this.

from behind you, your knight in shining armor comes just in time. jungkook coughs, getting your attention before speaking. “princess, your father has been searching for you.”

“oh—! right! i must go, ladies, my apologies.” you excuse yourself with a quick bow of your head and take hold of jungkook’s arm as he leads you away. “thank you.” you squeeze his arm gently and lean into him. “i never realized how exhausting talking to aristocrats— being that we are also.”

“well, they’re… you know—“ he laughs.

you finish his sentence for him, knowing he’s too nice to say it out loud. “annoying?”

“yes, exactly.” he laughs.

“princess!” the duchess of gotia approaches you, eunwoo’s mother. she’s known to be the mother, actually. she’s always offering to babysit the royal children. you always found it very sweet. she loves being a mother, so with her interaction, you know exactly what she’s going to say. “so…” she sing-songs. “how is it coming?” she asks, signaling towards your belly.

“uh— well," you laugh awkwardly and jungkook quickly answers for you.

“duchess, we aren’t even married yet.” he shoots down the idea immediately.

“well, if you ever need a babysitter, you know who to call!” she smiles brightly. “you have been the greatest to my eunwoo, and i would like to express my gratitude whenever you need me.”

“of course,” you nodded with a smile. “we will let you know when the time comes.” you tell her hesitantly, looking up to jungkook, only to see that his eyes have averted to looking anywhere except you.

she walks away to converse with the ladies when another pair of highborns decide to approach you. for the third time tonight, you and jungkook have maneuvered your way around and avoided the talk of an heir. how awkward was it to talk about babies when you guys haven’t even touched third base yet.

“everyone please gather! it is time for dinner!” clementine announces and you let out a sigh of relief. you and jungkook make it to your assigned table and sit down next to each other.

before anyone starts eating, the king and queen are supposed to make a speech about how thankful they are for everyone that has visited, how they hope everyone enjoys the flowers, and then wishes them well as they allow them to dig into their meal.

but the speech has gone on for quite a long time this year, your father was rambling about how this is the first flower festival with you back and how hard it’s been without you. it’s a touching speech, really, but your father always finds a way to skew the speech in a different direction; even when he doesn’t mean to. it’s been five minutes and now he’s talking about how tough of a winter it was this year and how he was afraid that the flowers were frozen and gone forever.

jungkook glances over to see you hunching your back, it looks uncomfortable, and it must be if you’re in a dress like that. multiple ties in the back and metal ribs to cinch in your waist. so he decides to help you out a little bit. sneakily, his hand moves to your back, pushing slightly. “straighten your back, love.” he whispers in your ear.

your back straightens immediately, a shiver runs down your spine as well. “thank— thank you.” the slight touch and his words make you quiver, having to take a breath to stabilize yourself and assure that you don’t start making out with him in the middle of your father’s speech.

he takes his hand away from your back swiftly, but not before he takes a quick look at the intricate lacing in the back. tightly woven for the appearance of a defined waist. “does it hurt?” jungkook visibly winces.

“just a little,” you pinch your fingers together. “but you get used to it after a while.” you shrug.

“are the laces too tight?” he asks after staring at the ties for a while. “i can tell chaeyoung,” he suggests.

you shake your head, “i’m fine— promise.”

your father finally finishes his speech with a request for everyone to raise their glass and cheers to the celebration of the flowers, thanking the higher powers for everything before telling everyone to dig in.

after dinner was when the princes and princesses would talk, in this case: jungkook (since you were too nervous to talk). for some reason, he was really nervous today. jungkook is never nervous, he’s always confident about what he’s going to say. but now it was his turn to be corrected. his leg was bouncing like crazy, the table jumps every now and then from his knee knocking it. so you place your hand atop of his thigh, gently telling him to cease the movements. it works, he pauses and stares at your hand with wide eyes. they flicker between your hand and your side profile. you stare straight, listening to your father talk (he was supposed to just introduce jungkook, but ended up making another speech) while your hand comforts his restless leg.

jungkook tries to keep it under control, but your hand is inches away from his groin, and he tries to deny the blush that rushes over his face.

his hand covers yours and gives you a gentle squeeze. it makes you turn to look at him, a look on his face that you’ve never seen before. a straight face with eyes that wander, stern but mischievous at the same time.

he pulls your hand off of his leg and redirects it to your lap, giving you a little smile before letting his hand ghost the skin of your exposed thigh. the slit on your dress is unhelpful when it comes to modesty and trying to be subtle about how you feel towards jungkook, both emotionally and sexually. a slight touch from jungkook topples the dominoes. goosebumps raise on your arms, your breath is caught in your throat, and now suddenly, your core is a lot warmer than before.

your father continues to ramble about the history of the soil and how every flower and plant can grow on the grounds of raemor. jungkook’s hand is still on your lap. you’ve calmed down now, the urge to pounce on him has subdued to just wanting to kiss him right now. he’s gorgeous, as always. a perfect side profile, hair styled so prettily, and his skin so soft against yours.

“and to keep the night going, a word from our prince, jungkook!” your father finally announces.

you plant a kiss on his cheek before he gets up, “good luck.” you whisper in his ear and he gives you a bright smile before he makes his way up to the stage.

after the welcome applause dies down, jungkook taps the microphone and introduces himself as if no one in the room knew him. then he goes on about how lucky he is to be living a life like this. how privileged he and everyone in the room is. and how excited he is for the future of raemor and the world. he ends the speech with a sweet shout out to you. “and as we are here celebrating the best blooms of raemor, i’d like to thank the prettiest flower, our princess ___, for being my best friend and my fiancée— now let us party!”

you blush. your hands covering your face because of how cute it was. jungkook received a loud applause, credited to his friends who whoop and shout as he comes down the stage. once he comes back to the table, he gives you a big kiss and the two of you laugh at how cheesy his ending sentence was.

the party starts up once more, the mc’s orchestrate the music and multiple people join, waltzing and turning upon the shiny ballroom floor. jungkook wants to dance with you. so he lifts his hand from your lap to ask for a dance.

jungkook knows you don’t exactly like dancing, but you always take the chance to dance with him whenever it’s given to you. plus, with this dress, how could you not groove and twirl around?

a dance sounds so innocent, the gentle movements of ballroom dancing and the easy one, two steps. but jungkook is a pro, despite your novice skills, he lets you step out of your comfort zone. trying dips and lifts with you. the slight touches against your hips, your waist, and down your arms. you had no idea how to exactly explain it, but you felt something burn inside of you.

when jungkook pulls you in for another twirl, his hand ever so slightly grazes just underneath your breast, his thumb running over the clothed skin. you jolt back abruptly and jungkook is startled. pulling his hands down to yours immediately. “is everything alright, princess? would you like to take a break?”

you nod, “please.” you let go of his hands and walk off the dance floor. jungkook is hot on your heels as you head to your table to get a drink of water. soon, the burn from deep inside begins to travel. your face began to burn up, your fingertips, and your skin. suddenly, your corset was way too tight, your shoes were a size too small, the crown on your head felt like thorns— everything was bothering you. you knew it was because you wanted jungkook so bad.

“is there anything i can get you?” he comes up behind you. a hand gently caresses your arm. his touch is hot. it was so hard to control these feelings. love was hard enough, but now lust clouds your view.

“i’m— i’m fine,” you take another sip of your water. “i just need to sit down.”

he sits down with you, worry encompassing his face. “are you sure everything is okay? is it your dress? i can call one of your ladies to help.”

you shake your head, “i’m fine.” reassuring him that it was okay, it’s just that incredulous, incessant burn.

“alright.” jungkook nods. “i won’t leave your side, just let me know if you need anything.” he tells you, and you nod. thanking him even though you knew if you wanted to keep this abstinence promise, you were gonna need to be as far away from him as possible.

you try to spend the next ten minutes calming down, but with jungkook sitting in front of you, conversing with other princes and highborn from his seat— he looks too good. he’s leaning back, arm around the empty chair next to him, his body is still facing you but his face is turned to talk to his friends that are at the next table. it just makes him look even hotter. if that was even possible. the promise that he wouldn’t leave your side made you melt, and it’s only contributing to the problem between your thighs. you cross your legs and squeeze, trying to relieve some of the ache but it doesn’t work. you need to leave now or you need jungkook to help ease this tension.

and there was nothing wrong with asking for it.

“actually— jungkook,” you sit up. taking his attention away from yugyeom who sat at the table behind him, showing him something on his phone. “can you help me? the lacing on my corset is starting to become unbearable.”

he stands up immediately, holding his hand up for you to hold as you get up from your seat. “oh— sure, princess, let me get chae—“

“no! it’s okay— could you just help me to my room?” you interrupt him, a sweet look on your face. your intentions are quite evil, and you wonder if he can see right through you. “please?”

“of course, princess.” he agrees. excusing himself from the conversation with yugyeom. his arm is out for you to hold, and you take it gleefully.

you weave through the massive ball room to get to your parents table, tapping your mother on her shoulder to inform her. “i’ll be taking a break in my room with jungkook.” she nods and laughs, clearly not paying attention to whatever you were saying because her friends were telling her about a trip they had in bali.

so the two of you make it up the stairs, down the main hall and to your room. you let yourselves in and lock the door behind you. “oh— thank god,” you sighed. jungkook was already on your bed, back against your comforter and eyes straight to the ceiling.

“suffocating conversations and a device around your waist that basically chokes you, are you a sadist or something?” jungkook jokes, laying on his side with his head resting against his hand.

“i don’t take pleasure in making people cry, jungkook.” you rolled your eyes playfully. “i think the word you’re looking for is masochist.” taking off your heels, you make your way to your bed and jungkook makes some space for you. you groan as you plop down onto the bed. in the minute that you’re laying down, jungkook takes the liberty to put something on the tv and dim the lights a little. as the movie plays in the background, you lay there on your stomach, arms feeling like jelly as you try to untie the laces of your corset by yourself.

jungkook watches as you flail your arms. stifling a laugh, he asks, “do you need help, princess?”

“yes, please.” you pout.

“okay, i’ll call your ladies and—"

“jungkook, you’re already here— do you want to try? i can talk you through it.” you sit up, looking him in the eye.

jungkook tries to hide the way that his eyes almost bulge out of his head. gulping, he asks, “are— are you sure you want me to help? i can get them up here quickly.”

“please?” you ask him sweetly. you can see that he’s eager, that he is willing; but you know he’s too much of a gentleman to admit something like that. especially in this abstinence period the two of you are having now. so you shrug a little bit, “unless you don’t want to, then i can go find them myself, it’s no problem.”

he lets out a shaky breath. jungkook isn’t sure how to explain why he’s worried. the thought of helping you out of a corset is intimate. he’s had many, many dreams about it. so you asking him, leads him straight into a trap. one that the two of you have been avoiding ever since you first kissed.

but you’re asking so nicely, the sweetest look in your eyes that he knows has to be intertwined with evil. because why else would you be asking your best friend— soon to be husband— to undo the ties of your corset?

he’s thought about it for all too long now. to the point where he just thinks, fuck it. so he nods. “i’ll help you.”

“are you sure?” you tilt your head. he only comes closer, nodding his head as you scoot back a little bit, so that you’re closer as well. out of habit, his hands move to your waist automatically. you have to take a slight breath to calm yourself down before continuing. “okay,” you mentally prepare yourself. “untie this first,” placing your hand where the dress holds itself together. he pulls the silk bow apart easily, and the material of your dress falls. leaving the corset laces out and ready to be loosened. you point to the bow just at the middle of your back, “then pull this apart.”

the string is pulled and the knot is undone successfully. jungkook looks at you through the mirror in front of you. the moment is something you’d find in a romance movie. the dim lighting is inherently sensual, and the volume of the tv fades into the back as the two of you only focus on eachother. the mirror compels the two of you to make eye contact every now and then. jungkook successfully unties the very professional bow chaeyoung tied and looks to you again for reassurance. you give him a soft smile and a quick nod.

with that, he asks. “what now?” he’s a little closer than he was earlier. that familiar feeling between your legs starts up once again. you try to hide it, shifting your weight every now and then, squeezing your thighs together.

jungkook doesn’t say anything, but he notices.

“pull the strings here,” you cough. you bring your hands up to hold his, bringing them to the laces. “to loosen them.”

he nods, swiftly going through with your instructions. jungkook can feel the heat radiating off of your body, he can also see the way that your cheeks are turning pink and how warm your hand was against his. to comfortably pull the laces, he lifts your hair and brings it to your front. his fingers ever so slightly brushing against your neck; the slight touch making you lean your head as if he were diving in to kiss it. jungkook can see that too, it makes him smile. the pure want that radiates off of you matches the passion he’s been trying his hardest to bury.

pulling gently on the strings and watching as they tug apart, the integrity of your corset deteriorates as the strings pull further away. your bare back begins to show. your hand moves to the front of the corset, holding it close to your chest and (barely) trying to keep everything modest.

“should i keep going?” jungkook whispers in your ear, entirely too close for comfort but it feels so nice. his voice is so smooth, it goes straight to your core, only adding to the intense warmth. his question was a double edged sword. asking if he should keep unlacing your corset and at the same time, keep going with this. “do you want to?” he adds.

“yes,” you nod. a look in the mirror shows you a different jungkook, one that is filled with desire.

instead of pulling that last lace to completely deem your corset useless, he catches you off guard, sitting straight and undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. your eyes almost bulge out of your head when he takes his shirt off, his bare chest out for you to see. it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but in the moment, you can’t help but stare.

he covers your shoulders with the shirt, making sure the front of the shirt covers your chest before he pulls out the last knot. in turn, the top becomes loose and falls forward into your grasp. the feeling of the cold air against your warm skin makes goosebumps rise. jungkook’s shirt is the only thing keeping you from full-on flashing him with your breasts. you hold the shirt closed with your hand as you let the rest of the dress fall off of your body, you gently kick it to the side and leave it on the floor beside your bed. putting his shirt on properly, the cold silk brushes against your arms.

when you turn around, jungkook is further than he was. no longer was he close enough to whisper in your ear and make your shiver from his lips ghosting your neck. he’s now sitting with his back against the headboard and he’s staring. he sees how pretty you look in his shirt and that your legs are clad, only in the black underwear you were wearing. he tried his best not to stare. when he realized that you caught him, he changed his focus back onto the tv. he clears his throat, “comfortable now?”

you hum, “very.” he looks so delectable, your multicolored lights don’t help your hunger; the lights reflect off of him in the prettiest way. his legs are parted just enough, and you can imagine how it would feel if you sat between them. “can i sit with you?” you ask, a devilish idea sprouting in your mind.

“of course,“ he nods, “c’mere, princess.” patting the spot next to him. you have other plans, crawling into the space between his legs. jungkook doesn’t protest, rather, just a surprised look on his face when you rest your back on his front and sit yourself flush against him.

“is this okay?” you asked, turning back to look at him.

he nods, gulping. “yeah— yeah, of course.”

jungkook forces his eyes not to stray just below him, where the valley of your breasts is exposed because you didn’t bother to button the shirt up all the way. his eyes try to stay focused on the avengers saving the world, but from his peripheral vision, he can see the way that his shirt barely clings onto your breasts. if you were to move an inch, the shirt would slip easily.

on your end; jungkook is taking too long. you thought he would have made a move by now. his bold words and actions earlier when he was undoing your corset had your expectations high, but now it looks like he’s actually focused on the infinity stones. you shift a little against him, making the hand that was resting on his leg fall onto you. he pulls back immediately, as if he’d burned himself on your skin. “sorry,” he flushes.

you laugh, “it’s okay.”

as always, jungkook is too much of a gentleman to speak his dirty mind. every few minutes or so, you can sense his eyes changing their focus from the tv to the gap in his shirt you’re wearing. the little glimpse of your cleavage is enough to make his face flush and his dick start to stiffen. “fuck,” he whispers to himself.

“hm?” you turn your head to look at him. the devil on your shoulder telling you to kiss him and tease him. when he makes eye contact with you, you spot his bottom lip between his teeth.

“don’t do this to me, princess.” he practically begs, on his last thread of self control when you turn a little more. the shirt shifting and revealing more. “i’m afraid i can’t hold back any longer.”

giving him a gentle kiss against his jaw with a smirk on your lips before you say, “then don’t.”

he sighs, leaning his head back against the headboard. “you—“ he starts, lifting his head back up after he’s gotten his thoughts in order. “princess, don’t you want to wait?”

“do you still want to wait?” you ask him, sitting up and covering yourself in a quick haste. jungkook is silent. if he was honest, he was scared. he didn’t really know why, but he just felt like he would mess it up somehow. plus, waiting for the right time wasn’t so bad, despite him wanting to devour you right now, he’s a man of self control. he won’t push anything you don’t want. patience is a virtue, he tells himself. so he gulps, not saying anything, just staring back at you.

he takes too long to answer, and it just makes you more insecure. you can’t even look at him straight in the eye anymore, afraid you humiliated yourself in front of your best friend. you start buttoning up the top as you speak, “i’m sorry— i just… didn’t want to wait anymore.”

and in that moment, jungkook says fuck patience.

reaching out to stop your hands from doing another button. your eyes shoot up, making eye contact with him. “i’m sorry, princess— i didn’t know.”

“wasn’t it obvious by the way i’m throwing myself at you right now?” you giggled which in turn makes jungkook laugh as well.

but the energy in the room is far from family friendly, the laughs that leave jungkook make him even more delectable. he has that lazy smile on again. he raises his hand from your buttons to your face, gently rubbing your cheek before he dives in for a kiss. one that leads the two of you into a great deal of swapping spit.

he smiles against your lips, “i just needed to hear you say it.” his other hand snakes under the shirt, placing it on your lower back and pulling you close. jungkook’s bare chest against your silk covered one. sneakily, using his other hand to unbutton the ones you’ve done up.

you look up and beg him with your eyes to relieve some of the pressure between your thighs. “please,” you nod.

he tsks, shaking his head. “need you to tell me what you want, my love.” his hands continue to roam under the silk shirt, you can feel the way they inch closer and closer to your breasts.

“i— i want you to touch me.” you tell him.

he hums. accepting your request. gently pulling the garment away from your chest, your breasts out for him to cherish. he takes his time admiring them before bringing his warm hands and running them over your stiff buds. enveloping you in a messy kiss as he continues. the cold metal of his gold signet ring is a stark contrast to the warmth of your bodies, it makes you shiver and groan against jungkook’s lips. feeling so sensitive and so ready. it was embarrassing for you to admit that you were so wet, the anticipation has you dripping. “like this?” he continues to play with your breasts. paying close attention to your nipples because he loves the way that you react when he adds a little pressure.

“more,” you plead, breaking the kiss. “please— jungkook.”

he lets out a little laugh at your willingness. his hands move to your back, giving you another kiss before repositioning the two of you and gently laying you against the pillows. he presses another kiss on your lips before moving down, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. further down to your collarbone, between your breasts, and then deciding to give love to both of your nipples.

it makes you giggle, in turn making him smile against your skin. you always thought that something like this between you and jungkook would be way too awkward, no matter how many times you’ve thought and dreamed about it— you’ve never thought of it being so… natural with him.

you aren’t allowed to be in your thoughts long before he allows his mouth to latch onto your nipple, sucking lightly and running the tip of his tongue against the bud. making you whimper and instinctively running your hands through his hair. “fuck— jungkook, more, please— please.”

“are you sure, princess?” he brings his head up, making eye contact with you. he looks so pretty. it’s unbelievable really. messy hair, red lips, and cheeks ever so slightly tinted pink.

“absolutely,” you tell him.

before he goes any further, he moves back up to give you another kiss. “i love you,” professing his love with another gentle kiss that makes you feel surrounded by angels and clouds.

“i love you,” you smile. “are you sure you want to do this?”

“you don’t know how much i want this, princess.” he tells you, hinting at his dirty thoughts. you weren’t alone in your pining. you almost laugh, but jungkook cut to the chase, kissing down your body once more and making it to the waistband of your lace underwear. your legs accommodate him, spreading them apart once he dips low enough. “so pretty.” jungkook comments, running his finger over the material of your underwear, making you shiver. he likes watching the way you react to his actions.

“picked it out myself.” you pride yourself in your choice of intimate wear.

jungkook lets out a little laugh, “it’s no shock that the crown princess has great taste.” he teases, running his finger under the lace now. placing kisses on your inner thighs, making you drip in anticipation. his lips gently make his way between your thighs, placing a kiss on your clothed clit. it makes you keen, arching your back slightly.

“oh— jungkook.” you lightly gasp, only egging jungkook on more.

“i was going to tease you some more, but i can’t wait.” he says, thinking out loud. "you just look and sound so delectable." his fingers tug the lace down and off of your legs to reveal your glistening core. his mouth waters at the sight of it and his dick throbs at the thought of making love to you. “fuck, princess—“ he groans, dipping down and waiting no time.

placing a kiss to your clit, he makes those pretty, soft gasps spill from your mouth. you watch from above, his hands on either thigh, pulling them apart and savoring what’s in between. you don’t think you’ve ever been more turned on in your life.

jungkook’s tongue works wonders. savoring your taste as he dips into your hole before sucking your bud gently, making you moan out loud. no one could hear you anyway; with the loud music, the big room, and the distance from the party— you were allowed to be as loud as you’d like.

“fuck, that feels so good.” you mumble, your hands moving to run through the strands of his hair again as you close your eyes and reel in the pleasure.

“yeah, my love?” he asks, pulling his mouth away to watch as your other hand instinctively goes to your breast, playing with your nipple for extra stimulation. watching you enjoy yourself, it makes him drool. in turn, he places his thumb on your clit, using the excess wetness to glide sleek circles against the sensitive mound.

that’s when you start to feel your ears heat up. your eyes open to see jungkook staring, your confidence skyrockets. jungkook looks like he wants to devour you, and without a doubt, you’d let him. you lean up on your elbows to watch him at a better angle, in turn, making your legs spread further apart. “oh—!” you gasp, your eyebrows slightly scrunched together in pleasure.

“you’re so pretty.” he smiles, dipping his middle finger into you. watching as your face contorted in pleasure once more. “could spend forever between your legs.”

always the romantic. you smiled at the saying. “you look very dashing down there.” complimenting him as he continues to egg your high closer and closer.

“you think so?” he flashes that lazy smile once again, somehow making a gush of liquid pour all over jungkook’s fingers. in turn making him groan at the sight, he dives in soon after— cleaning you right up.

the consistent pumps of his finger and the languid licks all combined to create that knot in your stomach. jungkook can tell when you’re close, the tiny gasps you let out and the way your legs twitch are a clear indicator that he’s doing a great job.

“gonna cum, my love?” he asks, making eye contact with you.

you nod, “so close.”

the closer you got, the wetter you were, and the sloppier it was— your thighs were twitching and your body was moving to the beat of your own drum. jungkook loved the sight. you, enjoying this intimate interaction, it’s been on his mind for years and now he’s able to watch it— make it happen— in real time.

you felt that knot being pulled tighter and tighter until finally, it snaps. “oh— oh, jungkook!” you gasp, running your fingers through his hair and coincidentally keeping him where he was so you could properly ride out your orgasm. jungkook didn’t mind, you tasted like a sweet treat on a summer's day. there’s nothing else he could have wished for on this beautiful night.

until you come down from your high. your face flushed with sweat beginning to bead at your hairline, you ask him a question that almost makes him pass out. “what about you?” you said it so quietly. it could have been missed if jungkook wasn’t paying attention.

he could cum just by the thought of it. and the thought of him busting within five seconds of doing anything with you, makes him super nervous. so he smiles, “don’t worry about me, princess.” he assures you. “i probably won't last long anyways.” telling the absolute truth.

you rolled your eyes. sitting up and making your way towards him, placing your hand on his face before you give him a gentle kiss on the lips. “can i?”

“what?”

“make you cum?”

jungkook swallows his spit. nodding immediately, "s—sure." you smile at his willingness. now it was your turn to please. jungkook moves first, reconnecting your lips and pulling you close, as close as he can.

“i love you.” you tell him between kisses. you can feel his smile against your lips.

“i love you.” he tells you, pulling away and making sure to look you in the eye. he reassures you again, hoping that you’re not just doing this because he did it. “you don’t have to—“

“i want to.” you cut him off quickly. planting another kiss on his lips before turning the two of you around, you gently push him down to where you were laying and let the fun begin. jungkook watches intently as you kiss down his body, his shirtless torso deserves all the kisses and praise in the world. “did you win an award for the best body in all of the kingdoms too?” you teased.

he rolls his eyes. “that’s not even a category.”

as you get to his lower stomach, you place a kiss where his belly button is and sit up. “you’d win anyway.” you laughed, tugging at his belt buckle to unravel it.

jungkook helps when you finally get the buckle off, sliding down his pants after you’ve unbuttoned and unzipped. leaving him in only his boxers. right about now, you realized that this is the most you’ve ever seen of jungkook. the second you pull that piece of clothing down, it’s whole new territory. you have no idea why you’re thinking about this now— jungkook has now seen every inch of you, and you are about to do the same.

“princess? you don’t have to do this.” jungkook speaks up after noticing you waver.

but you shake your head. “i was just thinking about how long it took for us to get here.” gently dragging a finger up and down his body, it makes him shiver. “i really am happy that we’re engaged to be married.”

“me too, my love.” jungkook smiles at you.

always so pretty, even when you’re about to do something so filthy. he can’t not kiss you, so he gives you a quick smooch before. you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather spend your life with. he deserves the best blowjob in the world. and you’re gonna try to give it to him.

pulling down his boxers, his dick lays heavy and hard against his stomach.

he’s huge.

your eyes bulge at the sight— it’s even pretty like he is. pink tip and a long, thick shaft. it’s literally impossible how perfect this man is.

dipping down, your tongue sticks out and gives one good, long lick against him. making him breathe out and furrow his brows. taking hold of him, you place your mouth over his tip and gently begin to suck. watching as jungkook throws his head against the pillows. “fuck, princess.” he groans.

jungkook doesn’t look away for too long, needing to watch as you treat him. gathering up some spit, you let it drool down your tongue and onto his cock, making sure he has a nice view of the glob traveling down his shaft. just before it touches the base, your hands collect the spit and slowly begin to jerk him off.

“holy— what the fuck,” jungkook gasps. his thighs slightly twitching next to you as you continue to pump and gently suck his tip. “how— fuck, that’s so good, princess.”

closing your eyes, you brace yourself as you try to take most of him into your mouth. you could only do so much before gagging, tears beginning to build in your eyes.

“don’t force yourself, my love.” jungkook tells you as he lifts your mouth off slightly, placing his hand on your cheek. a tear falls onto your face and he catches it quickly, wiping it off with his thumb. “i hate to see you cry.”

he’s always so sweet. it makes you wanna please him more. his reactions are egging you, you want to see more, to hear more. so you nod, continuing what you were doing earlier. in turn, you get what you want— groans and gasps leaving his mouth that seemingly sound like a melody. his teeth every now and then biting into his lower lip to control his noises. but to no avail, you always do something to make him moan.

meanwhile, you could feel yourself dripping again— jungkook turns you on like no other. the noises and just how he looks, you were ready for another round. “slow down, princess— i might cum.” jungkook warns. you smile against him, pulling yourself off but continuing to pump consistently.

“that’s the point, right?” you cocked your head to the side and begin raining kisses all over his cock.

“princess—" he groans. his eyebrows furrowed. he looks so hot. pleasure taking over his features entirely. “let me kiss you.” he demands, pulling your face towards his as he indulges the two of you in the messiest kiss you’ve ever been involved in. “fuck— i’m gonna cum.” he pulls away from the kiss first to let you know. you look at him and his lips are red and swollen, covered in a sheen from a mix of both of your saliva. you’re still gliding your hand up and down his spit covered cock. jungkook places his hand over yours and quickens the pace slightly. his eyes threatening to squeeze shut as the two of you work together to bring him to his own high. his hair flopping and sweaty near the roots. you can’t help but kiss him. your lips travelling everywhere. his face, his neck, and his ears. “princess, where can i—?”

“in my mouth?” you answered quickly.

jungkook bites his lip, trying to tell himself to be more of a gentleman— but that’s so hot. you think it’s hot too. and jungkook can see that face you’re making, that one that you make when you’re about to ask for something you want. so jungkook gives in to the guilty pleasure.

while jungkook was thinking to himself, you took it upon yourself to dip back down. your lips wrapping around his tip and letting your tongue run along his slit. your hand continues to pump with his and jungkook can’t hold back any longer. “fuck, princess, i love you.” he says once again before he blows his load.

you feel warmth flood your mouth. the slightly salty taste staining your tongue. you clean him up diligently before you sit up, swallowing everything you had in your mouth. jungkook groans at the sight of you. “did i do well?” you wondered out loud, opening your mouth and showing proof that you’ve swallowed it all. the image before his eyes is one that he never hopes to forget. he’ll probably be thinking about it for the next six months, and have a boner that never goes down during those months.

“come here, my love.” he beckons you over, a fucked-out smile on his face. without a second to waste, you climb into his arms. his hands automatically meet your cheeks, his thumb gently running over your bottom lip. “you are majestic,” he compliments. you smile, kissing his thumb. “was that okay?” jungkook asks. eyes desperate to meet yours to make sure that there aren't any second thoughts flooding your mind.

“jungkook.” you deadpan. scaring him. “that was the hottest thing i’ve ever experienced in my life.” you grinned, letting jungkook exhale that breath he sucked in. “so when can we do it again?” you laughed.

jungkook rolls his eyes, laughing along with you. “let’s talk about it after we cleaned up, yeah?” dipping down to give you a kiss before retrieving his boxers and putting them on.

you nod, “sure.”

he gets up from bed and holds his hand out for you to hold. the two of you make your way to the bathroom and clean up, making it seem like nothing ever happened! jungkook plants kisses all over you face. the two of you in a cloud of love as you laid back in bed, rewinding and finishing the movie.

every now and then you would push forward and place a kiss onto jungkook nose, making him smile before he did the same to you. he tucks the hair that fell in front of your face behind your ear. “was that really okay for you?” he asks.

“yes.” you nod, assuring him this is something you want. you’ve never been more sure of something. “what about you?”

“i couldn’t have dreamed of anything better, my love.” he smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead.

the two of you lay in the thick cloud of love made by yours truly. only giggles and sweet words float around in there. three knocks make you and jungkook jolt up from the pillows and away from your love cloud. “uh— princess? are you awake?” you can hear blue through the door.

“yes! is everything alright?” you shout, hoping that he hears you through the thick door

“the royal family of xezia is here, your mother is asking for you to come down and greet them.” he informs you.

“oh— sure, i will be right there! give me five minutes.” you tell him, jumping up rushing to get dressed. jungkook hurries to do your corset as best as he can and helps slide your dress on.

“and if you know where prince jungkook is, please let him know that they would like to see him as well.” blue adds on.

your eyes meet with jungkooks and the both of you can’t help but laugh. “sure, blue, i’ll let him know— thank you!” he finished tying the knot on your dress and proceeded to put his clothes on as you moved to your vanity; spraying perfume, fixing your hair, and makeup. making sure that all evidence of sex is rid of.

both you and jungkook had a game plan for the rest of the night: act like nothing happened, greet the xezia family, bid everyone goodnight, and then rendezvous at his castle in his room.

by the time you’ve already greeted the family of xezia and walked around to say goodnight, you were exhausted. who knew how much walking was expected of a princess?

taking a seat at your chair in the front of the ball room, you watch as everyone continues to mingle before they leave to head off to sleep for the night. jungkook is off talking to his friends in the far corner of the room and you sit alone with a glass of water, trying your best not to make it obvious that you just got the best head you’ve ever received just thirty minutes ago.

you spot chaeyoung walking your way and you invite her to take a seat next to you. the two of you gossip and talk about the party, if she had fun, etc. etc.

just as she excuses herself to head to her bed chambers, she turns around, remembering to tell you something. “by the way— not that anyone else noticed, but your bows are uneven.” she whispers in your ear.

your eyes are wide when she pulls away, making her laugh out loud. loud enough for the entire ball room to hear as her chuckles echo. you facepalm yourself before asking, “it’s not that bad, right?”

“well… you can definitely tell a man did it.”

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts #bangtan #bangtan fic #as long as the flowers still grow #jjk #jjk drabble #jungkook x you

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drconstellation · 6 months

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When Crowley met Jesus, and the other demon at Golgotha

You know the scene. 33AD. Aziraphale is watching the crucifixion take place and certain fem-presenting demon sidles up to him.

Aziraphale greets them, and finds out they have changed their name.

"What is it now?" he asks them. " Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?"

I know most you have learnt by now that Asmodeus is the demon of lust, and this is obviously Aziraphale's idea of a flirty little joke (perhaps the first we see? because he's the one who's really as "mad as bag of frogs" after all and that's why Crowley's made an appearance, because he was probably just in the area, you know...), but I haven't seen or come across much meta about the first suggested name, which is a GO "lead balloon" moment.

Mephistopheles, Aziraphale? That's the name you thought of here? Of all places? jfc...you bad, bad angel! lmoa! This is a serious, sombre situation you are witnessing!

Mephistopheles is the name of the fictional demon sent to do a deal with the character Faust in a story that dates back to Germany in the early 1500s. Faust was a like a scientist in his day, well educated in things like alchemy and astrology and other mystical arts, maybe even having wizard powers (why not?) But he was hungry for more power so he did a deal with the devil for 24 years of assistance to achieve and gain anything he desired, and at the end of that time he would be claimed by Hell. Needless to say, despite starting off well it didn't have a happy ending. (I wont go into details as there are lots of variants, and its not that short, and they aren't all that relevant to the point of the post.)

It has been a hugely influential story ever since, appearing in many forms over the years; in opera, theater, movies, novels, adaptations such as Oscar Wilde's The Portrait of Dorian Grey, and Queen's famous song Bohemian Rhapsody. Terry Pratchett also did a parody of it in his 1990 book Eric, and readers have often noted the similarity to the Hell depicted there to the Hell in GO.

Its the origin of the idiom "to do a deal with the devil" and a Faustian bargain. The mortals that enter into the deal with a powerful supernatural entity are usually set up to fail, and we go along with it because we are so used to the trope, its one we've come to expect the bargainer to fail in some spectacular fashion. It's one that keeps being repeated again and again because it so interesting to explore - often the protagonist is looking for some form of happiness, sometimes revenge, and hopes the deal will deliver, but find out the hard way that they should be careful what they wish for because the delivery is a two-edged sword. They may find out that they don't actually want what they thought they wanted, or they get what they want in an very unexpected way.

Back to Golgotha, and our demon and angel. We learn the demon has merely modified their name to Crowley. And yes, they met Jesus.

C: "Seemed a very bright young man. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world."

A: "Why?"

C: "He's a carpenter from Galilee, his travel opportunities are limited."

This is a reference to one of the the tests of faith Jesus was put through before his crucifixion, from the Book of Matthew.

I like this modern version I found:

For the third test, the Devil took him to the peak of a huge mountain. He gestured expansively, pointing out all the earth’s kingdoms, how glorious they all were. Then he said, “They’re yours—lock, stock, and barrel. Just go down on your knees and worship me, and they’re yours.” Jesus’ refusal was curt: “Beat it, Satan!” He backed his rebuke with a third quotation from Deuteronomy: “Worship the Lord your God, and only him. Serve him with absolute single-heartedness.” The Test was over. The Devil left. And in his place, angels! Angels came and took care of Jesus’ needs. Matthew 4:8-11 The Message

Or, you could say: Crowley showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world, and offered the bargain that he could rule them all if he would renounce God and worship Satan instead, but Jesus just turned to the demonic messenger and simply told him to "fuck off!"

And there we have it, folks. Mephistopheles, and Asmodeus. Touche, Aziraphale, you sly little shit stirrer.

#good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #hard times #golgotha #asmodeus #mephistopheles #faust #all the kingdoms of the world #going along with Hell as far as you can #faustian bargains #doing a deal with the devil #you bad bad angel aziraphale #this is no time to be flirting and cracking jokes with your demon

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frannyzooey · 1 year

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In The Dark: 12

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, lots of feelings— but remember, this isn’t the end ❤️

a/n: This is a long chapter - one of the longest things I have ever written, so I apologize beforehand for the pacing. It’s also the last official chapter, with an epilogue coming very shortly. I have several people to thank for helping me with this one: @wh-audens @the-ginger-hedge-witch @mourningbirds1 @krissology @charnelhouse @imaswellkid - I couldn’t have done it without you all.

Series Masterlist

-- “So I was thinking for your last night, I could take you somewhere?”

You smile, jiggling your key in the lock and when you step into your apartment, the sound of your shoes echoes on the hardwood floor; the space empty save for the essentials.

“Oh yea? What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking it would actually be a surprise,” he replies, and you drop your backpack on the floor, making sure to keep the phone close to your ear. “I can pick you up, since you’ll have your suitcase and stuff. Then in the morning, we can, you know. I’ll drive you to the airport.”

He had agreed to do it weeks ago, but since the night you asked him, neither one of you had really brought it up. The concept had seemed so far away at that point, and then when it didn’t, you each kept pretending it still was. Maybe if you didn’t mention it, you wouldn’t have to think about it, and if you didn’t have to think about it, then you wouldn't have to feel about it. In theory, anyway.

“Sure. Sounds good. I can just leave my key in the fridge like the landlady said, and then I should be all set. Anything………special, I should wear? For this surprise?”

He hummed at the thought, the husky sound lighting a shiver across your skin. “I mean, if you want to wear anything special for me Birdie, I’m not gonna compl–”

“I mean clothes,” you laugh. “Like, is it fancy? Or are jeans okay? As far as whatever I choose to wear underneath, you’ll just have to see.” You mind wanders to the lingerie store a couple blocks over, the one you’ve been eyeing as a surprise for him.

“Preferably it would be nothing, so I can tease that sweet little cunt in the car on the way over. But since that’s not what you’re asking….I would say wear a dress.”

You’re aroused into silence, and can practically hear his grin through the line at catching you unawares with the lewd statement. If he’s talking like that, he must be alone. You do the quick mental calculations on switching over to a video call right now to continue that line of thought, just to see what else he’ll say to you if you let him keep going.

“You still there, Birdie?” He sounds all too pleased with himself, the words laced with smug satisfaction.

“I’m here.” You wander into your bedroom, sitting down on the edge of your bed. Letting yourself drop backwards onto the comforter, you keep talking. “You must be alone if you’re talking to me like that. You got time to….see what I’m up to? I just got home, and I’m in my bedroom now. You know, if you wanna switch to video.”

He groans lowly and you let your fingers drift between your thighs at the sound. You can hear him breathing as he thinks and you skim the pad of your finger over the seam of your crotch before starting to undo the button of your jeans.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got this delivery I have to make. I’m already behind, otherwise I would say fuck it.”

“You sure?” you tempt him, quieting your voice. You tug the zipper down, a tingle of anticipation in your core at the thought of him giving in and he groans again, this time almost a whine of frustration.

“I’m sure, Birdie. God I wish I wasn’t though.”

You stop, pulling your hand back with a sigh. “Okay.”

“Maybe you can send me one of your videos though? That one you sent the other night? Jesus Christ, I’ve never seen anything like it. You –”, he stops talking, the doorbell ringing on the other end. “Shit, I forgot someone was coming to pick something up. I’ll call you later?”

“Sounds good,” you smile. Saying your goodbyes and hanging up, you stand from your bed, bending to dig through your suitcase in the corner. You pull a pair of sweatpants out, changing into them and retrieving your laptop from your bag in the living room, you sit down on the couch to get some work done.

The window beside you is cracked enough to let in crisp spring air, the sound of dripping water, the chirp of birds and the distant, ever present din of traffic down below wafting in with the breeze. It freshens your sparse apartment, disturbed dust giving the space a musty smell as you emptied it of all personal touches over the last couple weeks. Those items had been shipped over to your new address a week or so ago, the final trip to the post office leaving you to live out of a suitcase with just the essentials.

Work for the semester consumed you, final projects due in every class and when you didn’t have your head buried in a book or your laptop, you took what you could get of Ezra’s time.

It was limited, something both of you knew, but neither addressed. As the date got closer, you felt an underlying panic both with how much you had left to get done and how much you had left to say and do with him. Every hour spent with him was bittersweet, and you know he felt it too. He came over more and more often, like he was insatiable for your presence, unwilling to leave. He would spend evenings on your couch as you worked, keep you on speaker from his work room when he was at home, call you every night before bed if he wasn’t in yours.

In a strange way, there was a part of you that felt freed by your limited time. Even though you both avoided the topic of what was to become of you, it gave you a different sort of mental permission to leave nothing on the table when it came to what you wanted to do with him, and it helped that he was game for every single thing. You had never had a partner so adventurous, so open and willing or so knowledgeable to walk you through the things you were curious about. He fucked you so good and so thoroughly one night that “daddy” slipped out of your mouth - something you never thought you were into - and delighted, he spent the next couple of nights like you’d issued him a challenge, trying to coax it out of you as often and frequently as possible.

“Vigorous” would be the best word to describe it; you were sore every night for a week.

You would miss so many things about him - not only the sex, but his sense of adventure, his affection, his warm smile and easy laugh. The quieter, more vulnerable side he let only a few see. You would miss him, and though you tried to dance around the subject as much as possible for fear of it tainting your time left together, you could tell he would miss you too.

–

The next day he pulls up, putting his hazard lights on to stop in front of your building and when he gets out to grab your suitcase from you, he draws you in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

He takes a look at the entrance to your building for a moment before letting you go, and you climb in while he puts your suitcase in the trunk. Back in the car, he pulls away from the curb with a one handed steer as you fasten your seatbelt and reaching for your hand, he laces his fingers with yours.

“You all set, Birdie?”

“Yea, I think so? The place is empty, I left the key, got my deposit back…I think that’s everything?”

“You gonna miss it?” His eyes are on the road, his thumb dragging absentmindedly across your knuckles.

“Yea, I think I am.”

The little apartment had been your home for a year, and even though your beginning in the city had been a lonely one, that made the sentimentality for it even stronger. When you had nothing, you had those walls, your own snug little corner in the massive, sprawling city and the once bare space had grown with you. Empty bookshelves became full, your walls became covered in art, your routine with friends and school just as comforting as your bedroom eventually had become.

An image of Cee flashes through your mind - a rapid cycle of them actually, of all the time you had spent together in that apartment, and the ache in your chest makes you push it from your mind. Squeezing Ezra’s hand, you talk to him about his deliveries for the week and that keeps him going until he descends into a parking garage underneath a hotel.

NoMo SoHo. A wave of affection steals over your face as you watch him navigate the garage, touched that he remembered you saying weeks ago that it was on your bucket list and the idea of seeing a new facet of Ezra fills you with tender excitement. This night was special for so many reasons, but getting to see Hotel Ezra? You wanted to memorize everything about this new experience with him, from the helpful way he took your luggage along with his overnight bag, to the confident way he checked into your room at the lobby desk, to the sneaking smile he gave you as he slipped his keycard into the door.

His easy confidence and competency would never stop being sexy.

“Ezra,” you said in a reverential hush, stepping inside. “This is…..my God.”

You walk through the entryway, your fingers skimming the bottom of the enormous, perfectly made bed and head straight to the floor to ceiling windows that span the length of the room. Providing an overwhelmingly beautiful view of the city below, you get as close as you can and take it all in. He sets his bag down on the carpet, coming to stand behind you and you automatically lean into his embrace. The panorama is breathtaking: miles of steel and concrete, the peaks of the iconic buildings touching the sky, the ever present lights of the city just starting to twinkle in the dusk.

“You like it?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Are you kidding me? How could you not?” You don’t even look at him while you say the words, still gazing out the window and he chuckles low against your back, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I wanted my Birdie to have a bird’s eye view.”

You smile, your voice warm with humor. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you.”

He nods against the round of your shoulder, and you laugh.

“You think this is amazing, just wait til you see the tub.”

You turn in his hold then, your eyebrows raising and he looks so mischievously pleased with himself that you can’t help but grin back. You move away, walking towards the bathroom and when you round the corner, he laughs at your audible gasp.

“That’s the biggest tub I have ever seen in my life.” You look back at him when he follows you into the bathroom, delight spread across your features. “I’m not even kidding.”

“You wanna get in?”

Your hands are already on the button of your pants, your feet slipping your shoes off one at a time before you discard the rest of your clothes and while the tub fills, he takes the time to admire your nude body in the reflection of the mirror. He’s stripped his clothes too, the rumpled cotton and denim dropped carelessly on the floor around your feet and his mouth is a slow, wet path along the slope of your neck, his hands braced on the cool marble counter beside your hips. He keeps kissing you after you slide into the hot water, reaching for you with wet hands that drip when he cups your cheeks to pull you in for another and another and the water sloshes around your bodies in a luxuriously decadent way as you settle between his thighs, your back to his front.

You spend an hour or so in there, refilling the water every time it grows tepid. Laughing and talking and kissing and smoothing soap over skin, your mouths taste the clean dampness of each other every chance you get. Slow, syrupy kisses; languid in the water’s heat. You linger in the bath while he eventually climbs out and dries off, your arms resting folded on the edge of the tub with your cheek on top of them and you watch him smooth the towel over his limbs, wicking away the droplets that cling to his flushed skin.

“Enjoying the show?” he teases.

You shamelessly grin and nod, keeping your eyes on him as he pads out of the room. Climbing out, you wrap yourself in the thick robe that he left for you on the counter and the two of you begin getting ready for dinner like playing pretend house, domestic intimacy painting itself in every scene.

Him, clasping his watch on as he walks around in his briefs and a tight, white t-shirt.

Him, sitting on the edge of the bed in his undershirt and suit pants, with bare feet.

You, secretly slipping on lingerie in the bathroom, hiding it under your tightly cinched robe while retrieving your dress from the suitcase.

Him, fixing the cuffs and collar of his shirt, the clip of his dress shoes on the tiled floor when he comes to find you in the bathroom. He sets his suit coat on the counter and fools with his short curls for a moment, trying to make them lie flat.

He’s the same old him, even if his clothes aren’t - the same disheveled hair, the same sparsely whiskered cheeks, the same grin with a deep dimple when he leans against the doorframe to watch you get ready.

“I’m gonna go downstairs and make sure they have our reservation right. When you’re done, come find me in the bar? I’ll get us a seat - I know it can be crowded sometimes.”

You nod, fastening your earring on and he comes closer, slipping his hand around your waist.

“You smell delicious,” he murmurs low in your ear, his hand sliding down over the curve of your backside and when he finds the hem of the robe, he gently tugs it higher. Higher still, watching you out of the corner of his eye in the mirror and when he slips his hand underneath the thick fabric in search of your panties, he finds only bare, smooth skin — and a delicately thin, taut string around the curve of your hip.

“Hey, what are –,” he starts, trying to follow the path of it to see where it leads and you swat his hand away, laughing.

“Don’t worry about it, mister,” you tease, reaching for your other earring. “Go get us those seats and maybe –”, your voice drops an octave lower, your hand resting on the curve of his shoulder, “ – if you’re good, I’ll let you see what I’m hiding under here.”

He hums in anticipation as his eyes darken a shade, this type of game his favorite and when he steps back to let you continue, he palms himself, adjusting as he walks out of the bathroom.

You smile, going back to getting ready.

—

You look incredible.

He can’t stop thinking about it on his way down to the lobby, walking through the dimly lit bar, sidling up to it to get the bartender’s attention.

Ordering, he waits and fiddles with his cuff, tugging at it from under his jacket sleeve. He watches your drink being made, thinking about the way you looked in that robe upstairs and debates just going back to you: stealing you away for the night, ordering room service, never letting you leave the bed or his side.

As the bartender sets the drinks down on napkins in front of him, he takes in the frosted look of yours: the delicious, crisp liquid sitting picture perfect in the glass. He can already hear your hum of delight when you take your first sip, see the mold of your lips around the rim and the thought of it makes the corner of his mouth lift. You’ve been wanting to come here for ages; to keep you in the room would be selfish.

Twirling his tumbler on the bar, he takes a sip of his own drink to calm the uncharacteristic nerves he’s been feeling since picking you up. Momentarily soothed in the bath, they came back with a force as he got ready and he tips the remainder of his drink into his mouth, signaling for another. His jaw shifts in thought, his palm a restless smooth over his dress pants and he wills himself to focus on this moment. You should be down soon, and he wants to give you this night as a parting gift, wanting you to remember the city (and him, if he’s honest) just like this.

He nods his head in thanks when a new drink is set in front of him, twirling the glass again in a short circuit on top of the napkin and he tries not to think about how little time you have left.

–

Nerves flutter lightly as you take the elevator down to the lobby, anticipation thrumming through your veins. You fidget with the neckline of your dress, tapping your clutch against your thigh and when the door dings and you step out, you let out a deep breath.

You’ve been on dates with him before, but none of them have held the weight of this one. Your final date, on your final night. You bite your lip, reminding yourself to stop when you remember that you’re wearing his favorite shade of lipstick and as you make your way through the ornate, yet modern lobby towards the bar, you have both the urge to slow down and to run to him.

He’s sitting at the bar, his profile to you and you take the moment to admire just how handsome he is. He’s joking with the bartender, two drinks sitting in front of him on napkins and you appreciate the open way he laughs, the crinkles deepening around his eyes. He catches your eye then, turning fully toward you as you walk over to him and you can barely breathe at the transformation of normal, casual Ezra to Ezra in a suit.

“You look….unbelievably good. Like, gorgeous. My god.”

He smiles affectionately, pleased with himself and amused by you. “Well, thank you. I don’t dress up very often, but maybe I should.”

“Jesus, if it looks like this, then yes.” You take a step back, your eyes running appreciatively down his body and if it wasn’t so dim in the bar, you would swear you see a blush across his cheeks. He grins, pulling you closer.

“Come here, you,” he murmurs, just before he gives you a kiss. His hand slips around your waist, his mouth a chaste press against your lips for a moment and then he’s helping you onto your stool, sliding your drink towards you.

You feel like you’re playing pretend again, just like you did upstairs as you got ready, only this time, instead of a college student you’re a grown woman, sensual and desired, appreciated and adored and he makes you feel that way all throughout drinks, leading you to dinner when it’s time.

The dining room is absolutely gorgeous - styled like a greenhouse, you can see the whole of the night sky through the glass ceiling, the walls dripping with lush plants. Everything is romantically lit by twinkling chandeliers and candles on every table, golden lights flickering throughout the expansive room and when you’re shown your seat, they play across his face as he studies the menu. He orders a bottle of wine and given the drink you’ve already had, you’re feeling loose and carefree, the nerves of earlier gone. Instead, they are replaced with a low, heady simmering heat between your thighs that only intensifies as you look at him and when you remember what you’ve got on underneath your dress. You cross your legs, the bare skin of your upper thighs caressing against each other over the slip of the stockings you’re wearing and he’s watching you from across the table, the intimate lighting making his eyes even darker than usual.

“To London?” he proposes, raising his glass and when you clink yours against his and take a drink of the wine, he holds his hand out on the table, palm up, waiting for yours. You slip yours into it, and he grasps it, mindlessly playing with the tips of your fingers as he looks over the menu.

You want to eat, but you’re not sure you’ll be able to. Not when he’s looking the way he is and you can feel the heat of his hand and remember the solid, wet press of his body and the glide of his tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck and —

“What are you going to get?” he asks, looking like he can very much read your mind right now.

“I don’t know. It all looks so good.” You pick up the menu, giving his hand a squeeze and he smiles, letting his eyes wander over you.

“It does indeed.”

–

You’re quiet when you go back up to the room, curling into his side as you walk down the hallway towards your hotel room door. The liquor you’ve drank has made you pleasantly light headed, your body loose limbed and touchy and he’s feeling the same: kissing you at the dinner table, in the lobby of the hotel, underneath the arch of fairy lights threaded throughout the signature canopy of ivy outside.

If he looked gorgeous in the dining room, it was nothing compared to how he looked under those lights just before you took a selfie with him - the soft curls covering his head lit with a golden glow, his skin even more tanned and rich against the stark white of his collar, fondness radiating from his expression as he looked down at you before looking up for the picture.

The door clicks shut behind you, and slipping off your shoes, you make your way over to the windows again.

It’s stunning, the city at night. Never ending, tiny squares of lights for miles and miles, cars creeping along the grid line streets with their red and white lights adding to the glow. The skyline shines against the night sky, the peaks of its buildings a golden glint. You watch people far below crossing the street, the rush of the crowd weaving its way through cars and Ezra stands a few paces behind you; your back a black silhouette against the sparkling horizon of lights.

He admires the view for a moment before coming to join you and curling his body around yours, he rests his chin on your shoulder. His voice is quiet in the dark room.

“Well? Did you get your fill of New York? Did it live up to your expectations?”

You hum thoughtfully, resting your hands on his forearms.

“Amazing museums, check. Food? Double check. The bright lights? The big city? Check.”

You smirk, tilting your head to the side so he can drag his lips along the curve of your neck. “A torrid affair with a gorgeous older man who liked to bend me over the edge of the bed and make me come and touch my assh–”

“Hey,” he says sharply in a teasing scold, a giggle bubbling up from you when he nips at your skin and when you squirm in his hold, he tightens it. “That was one time.”

“That was not one time. That was all the time.”

“All the time?”

“Okay, like ten times. Seven, at least.”

He hums in agreement, relishing the memory. “You seem pretty precise on those numbers, Birdie. Like you remember each one of those times. Like you liked it.”

“Mmmm, I did.” You melt into the kisses he is pressing warm and delicate along the dip of your shoulder, turning to face him and he takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment before bending to kiss you. Slipping your hand around the nape of his neck, you tug him closer and open your mouth to him. His hand large enough to fit the curve of your waist, he rests it warm there as he lets a soft sound of appreciation into your mouth and his other hand settles on your breast, palming the weight of it through your dress.

“You look so fucking gorgeous tonight,” he breathes into the kiss, consuming your mouth again between praises. “I couldn’t stop thinking about coming back here. About seeing what's underneath.”

He pulls back, leaving you breathless, your lips kiss swollen. “Have I been good, Birdie? Can I see?”

This. This is the familiar space between the two of you - this need for each other, this give and take, this push and pull. These games, these filthy words, this want. The constant desire that has run through your limbs since the first time you saw each other, a magnetic ache inside your bodies that wasn’t satisfied until you fit together as one; a flush press of bare skin, no inch left untouched.

This whole night has had an edge of nervous energy to it, but in this moment, you loosen yourself from those shackles and just revel in the way he wants you, his silhouette familiar and arousing against the backdrop of the city.

You take a step back and standing in front of his shadowed form, you play with the tie of your dress. You leave it, instead running your fingers along the neckline and when you playfully tug it lower, he can see a peek of white cups of lace encasing the swell of your breasts. You show him just enough to get the idea, sliding your hands down your torso and down further until you reach the slit of your wrap skirt and he slips his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, watching your little tease.

His posture is one of arrogance, one of patience that you test when you slide the fabric to the side, exposing your stockinged thigh. He straightens slightly then, his eyes narrowing in focus and you pull your skirt higher - just enough to give him a peek of your pussy: clothed in white lace, the sight almost virginal. The instant look of transparent arousal on his face is immediately evident, his jaw clenching as he lets out a low groan.

He wants so many things: wants you to sit on his face wearing nothing but those stockings, but that seems more like a treat for him than you. Wants to fuck you while you’re wearing that tiny scrap of fabric, shoving it to the side as he makes you take him rough. Wants to make you ride him wearing it all, so he can remember just the way you look right now, in this room.

But he doesn’t do any of them. Instead, he drops to his knees, crowding you until you're forced to sit on the edge of the mattress and his hands splay over the inside of your thighs to push them open wide, making room for his shoulders. The weight of his hand drags up, sliding over your warm skin to settle over your core, cupping you through the lace.

This. This is what he wants. For you to see how he kneels at your altar.

“I can feel how wet you already are through here,” he says, pressing his thumb along your seam, looking up at you from his kneel and you say nothing, taking a deep breath as you curl your fists into the bedding. Your breath hitches when he bends to kiss you over the lace, his hands smoothing over the silken stockings before hooking your knees over the firm rounds of his shoulders.

He wets it with his mouth, his tongue running along the damp fabric as he keeps his eyes on you and when he pushes your dress higher up, his mouth brushes along the string of lace over the well of your hip. His fingers slip under it, sitting back on his heels to drag your panties down and off, and then he drapes your legs back in place, his mouth finding the very center of you again. The first full lick makes you arch off the bed, the second pulling a throaty moan from you and parting you with his tongue in order to coat it with every last drop of you that he can get, his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs. He had intended to build you slowly, but with every dip of his tongue through your silk, he realizes he can’t.

He pulls you closer, your ass on the edge of the bed as he spreads you right in front of his face and it’s so erotic the way you are bathed in the light of the city for him to see everything, while he’s covered in shadow. He bends to task again, parting you hungrily with his tongue and you give into the sensation, slipping your fingers through his waves to encourage him.

He eats you like he can’t stop, the need to consume every piece of you that he can overriding everything else. He eats you like a man starved for it, or like a man eating his last meal - devouring, savoring, forcing his tongue as deeply as possible into your slickly soaked heat and when you try to squirm up the bed at the intensity of it, he grips your hips in his hands and forces you back down, grinding his tongue against your clit. The lower half of his face is buried, a guttural groan pouring from his throat and his grip is almost painful, like he’s trying to press the memory of his hold deep into your limbs, while also doing the same with the flavor of your cunt. Branding you, as he commits you to his own memory.

“I’m – Jesus, Ezra – I’m –” you pant, the heat building between your hips rocketing higher at his attention and need. You press the back of your head into the expensively smooth comforter, your hands restlessly searching for anything to grasp and the lights of the city shimmer bright, merging as he brings tears to your eyes. It’s so much – too much when he slips two thick fingers snugly into your cunt while sucking on your clit - and when he pulls a release out of you that’s more intense than anything you’ve ever felt with him before, the suddenness of it makes you cry out into the dark room, a sob catching at the back of your throat.

He doesn’t stop, pulling back just enough to lave a wide stripe across your hip bone, another hungry kiss over your exposed, heaving chest, a reverential taste of your skin as he tugs your dress and the cup of your bra out of the way to draw the peak of your breast into his mouth with a suck. Your fingers are a slow, lazy slip through his hair as you try to catch your breath, and he switches to your other breast, stopping only at the whimper you let out when you feel his teeth catch on the peaked bud.

His mouth finds yours, the salt of your release thick on his tongue and in his urgency, he settles heavy on top of you, your legs coming to wind around his waist to keep him close. He pushes his hips forward into the damp heat between the cradle of your thighs, grinding his cock against you in search of relief and you slip your hand between your bodies, seeking it out. Squeezing him through the silken material of his trousers, you stroke him a few times, swallowing his grunt as he pushes his hips into your touch and you frantically work together to undo the clasp of his belt, then the button of his pants. Your hand pushes under the waistband to find his cock hard and thick, warm in the cradle of your palm as you feel him over his briefs and the contrast of the heat soaked cotton and the coolness of his pants is a pleasant one; the thick of him stiffening in your hand as you work him through the fabric.

“Fuck, Birdie,” he groans, giving into your hold for a moment as he pushes his hips into it again and again and then he’s stopping, pulling back from you. His fingers work hastily on the buttons of his shirt, tossing it onto the floor before reaching up and back to tug his undershirt off and you sit up, doing the same with your dress and bra. Taking in your sprawled form on the bed, bare save for your stockings, he steps out of the rest of his clothes, the weight of his cock heavy between his thighs.

“I need to fuck you.” The words are half groan, half plead; all husk as he breathes them into your ear after crawling up over you and your silk covered legs automatically find their place around his waist, encouraging him to line up and slide inside. His deeper groan of satisfaction melds with your higher one, his hand reaching back to grasp your ankle to tug it higher and he holds onto it tight, wrapping his fingers around it as he fills you over and over.

The tenderness in which he’s moving above you is threatening to overwhelm you, tears pricking at your eyes with how good he feels, how full and loved and cherished you are underneath him and you resist against it, while wanting nothing more than to give in.

“I want it harder. Harder, Ezra. Please.”

He pulls back at the request, looking down at your face.

“Yea?” he pants, his hips snapping against yours. “Tell me how hard.” He grinds deep before pulling back, then shoving himself inside hard enough that you whine. “This hard? Harder?”

Hard enough for him to fuck the sadness from you. Hard enough for you to forget about your limited time left. Hard enough for him to leave a lingering ache in your core, so that you’ll feel it when you sit down on the plane tomorrow. Hard enough to pretend that this is just a rough fuck, not something more. Hard enough to forget, but also remember.

“God, yes – yes,” you beg when his strokes are strong enough to jolt you underneath him and his hand curls over your shoulder, keeping you in place. His breath bursts over your skin, hot air washing over your mouth and you inhale it all; the low grunts, the rumbling groans, the murmured praise that slips from his mouth.

His arms push underneath you, the full weight of his body dropping onto yours and his hand slips under your head to grasp your hair, the other one a steady hold against your lower back. You can barely breathe with how heavy and solid he feels on top of you, grinding you into the mattress and you hitch your knees higher, your fingers digging into the meat of his ass. He pulls back just enough for his mouth to find yours and it’s then that the sob breaks free, pouring from you before you can stop it. He kisses you right through it, taking it from you into him.

“You’re doing so good for me. So good, sweetheart. I can’t stop. I won’t.”

“Don’t. Don’t. Please. I want it. I want you.”

“Shhh,” he soothes, his thumb brushing an errant tear from your temple, where it slides down the side of your face. “I won’t.” Every word is punctuated with a heavy exhale, his hips constantly moving. “I won’t. I won’t.”

When you come around him a few moments later, he follows - his frantic pace not stopping until he’s filled you with every last piece of him and even then he stays inside. Nudging the line of your jaw with the curve of his nose as he presses kisses along your collarbone, you guide his mouth back up and his forehead rests against yours as you breathe each other in between thick, savoring kisses.

Eventually, he shifts to your side and you lie together in content, sated silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Your brain is picking up speed again, the distraction of his body now gone and though the drag of your nails is idle over his bare skin, your racing mind is anything but.

You have hours, and that’s it. You’re going to sit here until you each fall asleep, those precious hours lost to dreams and when you wake up, it’ll be too late to voice the questions you’ve had in your mind for weeks. Your stomach churns at the potential embarrassment you might feel, but you’ll regret it every day if you don’t say something and so you take the leap, hoping he’ll be right there to catch your fall just like he always is.

“Ezra?” you ask, lifting your cheek from his chest and he stirs from his own reverie, looking down at you.

“Hmm?”

You look directly into his eyes, holding his gaze and when you hesitate for a moment, he waits patiently, tenderly brushing his thumb over the fine hair at your temple.

“What….are we? Like, what’s….” you stall, looking away and biting your lip, trying to hold back a sudden heat behind your eyes. You know you should be looking at him, but you just can’t. “What’s gonna happen?”

He doesn’t answer at first, instead looking back at you so intently you can feel it without looking up. He waits you out, and when you eventually meet his gaze, the earnestness in his eyes makes you want to rush forward into his arms, to soothe him even though he’s supposed to be reassuring you.

“I don’t —,” he starts, and then stops, thinking over his words. His eyes search yours for a moment, his expression wavering between desperation and soft, assuring resignation. “I don’t want you to hold yourself back from anything, okay?” He reaches for your hand, bringing it up to his chest to hold it there and his fingers play with yours. “I don’t want you to be thinking about me, wishing you stayed because of that. Not that I think so highly of myself to imagine you’d be so hung up on me,” he jokes, attempting to break the tension. “Though I am going to be hung up on you.”

His tone softens when he sees a watery smile on your face, and he leans in, delicately holding the curve of your cheek in his hand.

“I just want you to go there, and meet people, and read all the books you can get your hands on and write,” he pauses when your eyes slip shut, a small frown appearing as your face crumples, even as you nod in agreement. “And I just don’t want you to pass anything up. Not for me, not for anybody. I’ll be here when you come back, okay?”

He doesn’t say if, though he thinks it.

You try not to read into it, telling yourself that he’s being smart, logical, that he’s doing what is best for you but the words still sting, your chest sinking. This is a gentle let down – as gentle as it can be, for two people who never defined what they were to each other in words. He must be able to tell your disappointment, because he shifts to fully face you, draping his arm over the curve of your waist.

“If you were staying, you know it would be different right? I can’t keep you, though I wish I could. I wish a lot of things, Birdie. I really do.”

When you don’t say anything, his face shifts into sympathy, and he pulls you into his arms, wrapping them around you. Your face fits into the warm curve of his neck, tucked into that pocket of safety and you clutch him tight, breathing him in.

“I’m scared.”

You murmur the words, barely audible. Not having the guts to vocalize them until now, sorrow fills you from the inside out, as if the outward acknowledgement of the feeling is a physical weight, dragging you down with it. Scared of school, of failure, of living in an unknown city with no one, of what is going to happen with him – all of it. You’re scared of all of it.

“Listen to me.” He speaks, the rumble of it vibrating against your chest and pushing through the cold wash of sadness like a comforting drape of a blanket. “You’re going to be amazing. I know it. Look at how brave you were, coming here. Doing the things you did.” He gently pulls your face from his neck, making sure you’re looking at him. “I am so proud of you. So proud. You’re gonna be brilliant, and I’m gonna be sad to miss it.”

You squeeze him tighter, burying your face into his neck as he tightens his hold on you and though it takes you awhile, that’s how you fall asleep.

He stays awake, his hand a soothing, weighty splay over your bare back. He hopes he said the right things, even though he wants to wake you now and take them back. You have to go, he knows this, and yet —

It’s for the best, letting you go unburdened. You might be sad, but you’ll find distractions and those distractions will help you grow even more, eventually helping ease the pain. Logistically it doesn’t work — not with your ages or your locations or your schedule — and he fights with himself in these last few moments, logic eventually winning.

This is the right thing.

Listening to the rise and fall of your steady, slow breathing, he buries his face into your hair and closes his eyes.

Dawn breaks, light barely illuminating the room around you and you lay awake; silent above the waking city below, watching him sleep.

His forearms push into the bedding around your head, his sleepy, warm mouth seeking out your own as he rocks into you again and again with his eyes closed tight; the bedside clock lighting a one hour warning as you hold him close.

He holds your hand the entire way to the airport, his fingers laced with yours.

Buildings line the sidewalks in your drive down the street, and knowing this would be one of the last moments you had to take in the sight of the immense, towering structures, you stare out the window. The architecture of the city is just as beautiful as it was your first day, imposingly powerful and gorgeously stoic; the brick and steel and concrete filled with lifetimes of ware. Utilitarian, modern, artsy, vintage, crumbling, new, covered in graffiti or not: you knew you would never see anything like it anywhere else.

You didn’t mean to romanticize — there were heaps of garbage and rats and scaffolding that never went away and Time Square in particular was something that you weren’t really impressed with — but the rest of it. The rest of it you loved.

The terminal is chaotic as usual, cars weaving to and from the curb in their own intricate dance. There are people everywhere, dragging their luggage from trunks, embracing on the sidewalk, yelling goodbye before they walk through the sliding doors and when it’s his turn to find a place amongst the madness, you don’t say anything as you watch him get your suitcase from the truck and carry it over to you, where you’re standing on the curb.

“Well, I guess this is it, Birdie.”

You nod, and he pulls you in for a hug, one that lasts longer than normal, but not nearly as long as you want. You close your eyes, feeling the solid, comforting embrace of his body against yours and he holds you tighter, his hand coming up to cradle the curve of your cheek.

“Text me when you get there. Or call me. Whatever. No matter what time, okay?” He’s serious, his hand remaining in place to hold your gaze and when you nod, you’re close enough to tears that he can feel the hitch in your breathing when he leans in for a kiss.

You clutch the soft, worn cotton of his shirt tightly in your fist, not wanting to let go. His mouth tastes just like it did that first night in the kitchen, just the same as the first time he came over to your house, moves against yours with the same tenderness as it has every week since - on your couch, in his car, out on the streets of the city, in the darkness of a hotel room you’ll never forget.

“You got everything you need?” he asks, pulling away and the question reminds you of something you have in your purse. You tug a letter from your bag, handing it to him.

“Can you give her this?”, referring to Cee, and he takes it from you, looking at the envelope.

It’s a letter you had written the day before, several drafts of it in the trash at your old apartment; discarded and forgotten like countless letters before it throughout the years in that city. You had thought long and hard about every word, revising it just as thoroughly as you would any of your other drafts - but in the end, you threw every one of those out and just wrote from the heart. Simple, truthful, honest.

Hope was held in the contents of that letter, and Ezra handled it just as carefully as if he knew.

“Of course.”

He pulls you in for one last tight hug, murmuring his goodbye.

“Goodbye,” you reply, your mouth pressed into the curve of his shoulder and then you leave him there, looking back as you walk towards the doors. He flashes you a solemn smile, his hand coming up in a wave, and then he gets into his car, looking back at you for a moment before pulling away from the curb.

Ticket counter, security, endless walkways - you hold it all the way through until you sit down at the gate, and facing the windows looking over the tarmac, you finally break down and cry. Silent tears slide down over the curves of your cheeks, and you can’t bring yourself to care. How many tears has this airport seen? Just like the subway, you assume the number is endless and so you let them fall, reaching into your bag for a packet of tissues.

You search around for it, your hand touching something worn and soft and frowning, you pull it out. Your face crumples when you see what it is; he must have slipped it in there when you were in the bathroom this morning. You bring the faded black fabric to your nose, inhaling it before carefully folding it up to preserve the scent and tucking his Fleetwood Mac t-shirt back into your bag, you bring your knees up to your chest on your seat, looking out the window at the tarmac and not seeing anything.

—

Cee’s sitting in the kitchen when he gets home, turning to face the door when she hears him unlocking it. Her first thought is that he looks tired, but she can see the sorrow gathered around the edges of his eyes when he greets her, tossing his keys onto the table.

“Everything go okay?” she asks, and he nods. She looks with empathy at him, wanting to ask more, but feeling like she shouldn’t. He doesn’t look like he wants to say much anyway, and besides, she gave that right up.

He clears his throat, avoiding her eyes. “She, uh - she wanted me to give this to you.” He tugs the envelope from his back pocket, holding it out to her, and she takes it hesitantly, looking down at it without moving to open it.

He looks at her for a moment, and then scrubs the back of his neck with his hand. He sighs, pushing his fingers through his curls until he drops it against the side of his leg and that’s when he looks up at her for the first time since he’s come back home. The resigned sadness in his features is evident, even more so as he tries to hide them with a small, quick smile. His fist taps against the outside of his thigh, restless.

“I’m just – I’m gonna head to my work room for a bit. If you need me, I’ll be down there.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to answer, leaving the room as she watches. Waiting until he’s gone, she looks down at the envelope again, sitting down at the kitchen table. She stares at the familiar script of your handwriting, her thumb worrying the edge of the envelope.

Her first impulse is to open it, even if she’s not ready to read the contents inside. She bites her lip, looking up towards the hallway. Standing, she makes her way down the hall and stopping in her bedroom, she opens the book on her bedside table. The image of your name on the inside of the cover is identical to the one on the outside of the envelope, and she tucks the letter into the book, setting it back down.

Walking away from it, she goes to find Ezra.

#ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra/reader #ezra/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra prospect/you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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