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mountainsandmayhem · 3 months ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 6

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)

Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.

You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah! You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey.

You

Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this.

“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”

You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible.

The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”.

You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands.

“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”

You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”

“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.

“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance.

You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.

After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip.

You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold.

After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller.

You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car.

Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight.

The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.

Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.

He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists.

He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another.

Joel

“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”

His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”

You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.

“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”

You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”

He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something.

No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany.

He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”

When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”

He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”

He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms.

Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.

It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”

He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his.

“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”

“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again.

“So?”

“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.

He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss.

I love you.

You

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands.

He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.

“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.

Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”

“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”

He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic.

“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”

“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”

“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.

“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way.

“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”

As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”

You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”

The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there.

“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.

“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.

Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”

“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”

Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”

“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.

“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”

Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”

You - Four Years Prior

“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle.

“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”

Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”

That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.

“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.

As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him.

“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.

One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”

You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours.

The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.

“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”

A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”

“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”

“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”

You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.

You - Present Day

A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him?

“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms.

“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”

“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”

“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.

“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.

Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.

Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”

You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”

“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.

She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”

You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”

“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”

She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”

You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.”

Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?”

“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”

“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.

“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.”

You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”

You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him.

All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right?

“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.

“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier.

She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.

“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”

“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.

You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.

“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”

Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”

The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you.

“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”

You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”

She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.

When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”

“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings.

Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”

His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now?

Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?

Joel

I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music.

Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers.

I love you.

Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder.

I fucking love you.

You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him.

“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.

He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”

“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.

“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”

“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”

You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”

One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song.

A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart.

You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”

At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.

“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.

The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”

“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”

Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.

“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”

You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”

“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?”

“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”

You

“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.

Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”

That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.

The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.”

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”

He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore.

You’re falling in love with Joel Miller.

“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.

Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over.

The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it.

Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”

“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”

He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.”

The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage.

“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.

“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”

You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”

The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage.

“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar.

“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.

You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.

His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?”

God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”

You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”

Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage.

He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with.

Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.

He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”

His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar.

If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself

His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.

Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords.

Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel.

Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?

The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.

All the complexities and games No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on

You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.

When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us

This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.

And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest

You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’

All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.

‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.

So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay

‘I’m here for you’.

No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone

You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing.

You and me It’s just, you and me

You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”

Joel

The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.

He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women.

You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?”

He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.”

He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.

No, I just love her.

He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you.

His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”

You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints.

As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”

He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.

The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”

It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit.

A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once.

“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”

You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.

A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”

You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.

“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”

He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”

Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane.

His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him.

He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.

You

The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”

What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him.

“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’

His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties.

The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you.

“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.

He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”

His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”

The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him.

“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.

He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you.

The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady.

“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.

“Take me to the club.”

“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours.

“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”

“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”

Joel

This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are.

“I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.

Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”

He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.

He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.

“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.

“What do you need?”

You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”

I love you.

He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.

“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.

You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”

He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?”

You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”

“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.

“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office.

“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused.

“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.

When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful.

I love you.

You

Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side.

“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.

“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull.

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.”

“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.”

He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright.

If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego.

Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet.

You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”

You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?”

You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.”

You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.

“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?”

You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.”

“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.”

He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him.

He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours.

“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy.

Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants.

As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric.

“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!”

He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.”

The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.”

For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently.

“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.”

You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back.

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”

You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.

He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.

“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”

You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him.

“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says, “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”

“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.

“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”

This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you.

“Is this ok?” He whispers.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips.

“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”

Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.

His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”.

You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now.

“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does.

His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.

“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”

“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.”

“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.

Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers.

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.

Joel

He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach.

“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece.

More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.

Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”

He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen.

He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”

He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel.

I love you.

Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”

“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat.

He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”

“Again,” he growls.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.

He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you.

He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.

Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.”

He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling.

“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip.

“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you.

The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.

There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way.

Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl.

“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips.

His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”

Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”

He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk.

“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.

“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…”

His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating.

“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.

“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved.

The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you.

He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.”

“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.”

“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask.

“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.”

“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”

“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”

The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now.

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”

Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep.

His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”

Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed.

He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”

You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”

“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”

“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his.

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”

Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany.

“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”

Next Chapter

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

Note

" Scraping their teeth over your neck to have a shiver of arousal run down your spine. "

With Bucky. 🥺

This probably didn't go the way anyone wants, nonnie, and I'm sorry!

Give Me a Name

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Agent!Female Reader Summary: Someone put their hands on you and Bucky can't let it go. Word Count: Over 1.1k Warnings: Tension, threat of violence (not against reader), very minor injury, pet names, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Because who doesn't want a mob boss obsessed with them? ❤️ Edit by the talented @nixakimbo. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Today was a not-so-friendly reminder that mistakes in your job weren’t so easy to fix. You had been in pursuit of a target for weeks and finally managed to catch him. The rookie agent, however, didn’t secure the cuffs and the bastard managed to get a hard hit in when he broke free. The dizziness from the blow was enough to let him get away.

The rookie went after him, but you knew he wouldn’t catch him. You’d have to start all over with tracking him and you didn’t even get a chance to go home to lick your wounds. Not when Bucky’s men showed up and put you in a car.

You should’ve known they were close by.

“I can walk!” You argued minutes later when they brought you to the Barnes mansion. The mob boss had a few homes, but this one had been in the family for years. He had invited you here before, but never took you by force.

Until today.

The men carefully arranged you on a leather sofa in the den before one of them went to get their boss. He hadn’t left the room before the door flew open, the very man he went to find standing there with a look thunderous enough to kill. He snatched something out of one of his soldier’s hands before he went to you, no one daring to speak a word.

You held your breath as you glanced at Bucky. He had the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up as he assessed you, the veins in his arms popped out as he clenched his fists. He was built like a soldier with his massive frame, his life story told in the tattoos and scars that adorned his covered skin. The notorious crime lord more than earned his reputation and he promised he’d tell you his story himself one day.

Today wouldn’t be that day.

He brushed some of his long hair from his eyes before crouching down beside you. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he dabbed at your cheek with the cloth. He stopped when you winced, but you gave him a small smile to let him know he could continue. You didn’t expect tenderness from such a rough man, but you were different to him, weren’t you? You had been since the two of you crossed paths some time ago. Why?

What made you so special?

“Who did this to you?” He asked in a low voice. You could hear that he tried to keep the raging storm inside of him, but his icy eyes showed you everything. The growing fury was bound to come out. Who would he destroy in his path to sate the beast?

“Bucky. I’m fine,” you croaked as you tried to sit up more, but he stopped you from moving. “The guy got lucky and it isn’t anything I haven’t faced before. Just let me get back to work,” you said.

You noticed most of the men nearby avoided eye contact when you looked around. They had every reason to be afraid. James Buchanan Barnes was downright terrifying when crossed.

And crossing you was a worse offense in his eyes.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, though he didn't raise his voice. “Tell me his fucking name so I can take care of it.”

“I can’t,” you whispered. If you did, he’d kill him. No, he’d torture him first. Likely for days on end before he begged for death. And you needed him alive.

That was your job.

Yet, you could never find it in yourself to bring Bucky in.

“Don’t make me shoot you.”

You froze at the cold tone before you realized Bucky didn’t direct that statement at you. One of his men standing feet away turned his head to the side because he got caught staring. You should’ve known better. Whatever cat and mouse game you and the mob boss were playing, it was for him to catch you in his trap, but never hurt you.

Not when he wanted to keep you.

“I’m sorry, boss,” the man promised, his tone wavering when Bucky reached for one of his pistols. “I-”

“‘Cause I’ll do it in a heartbeat and never look back if you glance at her again,” he promised. He was a man of his word. “Leave us. All of you. Now.”

“Bucky, it’s okay,” you assured him as they filed out. The men were dangerous, but you weren’t about to let him shoot the poor guy for looking your way.

“It isn't okay. Someone put their hands on you,” he nearly growled, the soft touch to your cheek a stark contrast to his voice. “You think I can let that go? I can’t. I won’t.”

You brought a hand up to tuck a few strands of his hair behind his ear. His eyes shut for a moment and grabbed your wrist before you could pull away. He dragged your fingers through the short beard along his jaw, like he was starved of your touch and needed more. You didn’t want to admit how much you wanted him.

Not when you belonged in different worlds.

“You don’t have to ‘avenge’ me, Bucky, because I’m not yours,” you said carefully. Were you telling him for his sake or yours? “Let it go. Please.”

The storm continued to rage in his eyes when he opened them and you wondered who would win the battle of the wills. You held your breath again when he moved close, the scent of his woodsy cologne making your head spin. Instead of brushing his lips against yours, he brought his mouth to your neck. Scraping his teeth over your pulse, you couldn’t stop the shiver of arousal that moved down your spine.

“You are mine, Kisa,” he whispered, giving your neck another nip as you tried not to whimper. “And I’m going to find out who did this whether you tell me or not. And I’m going to kill him.”

Your heart shouldn’t have raced faster at his declaration. “If I tell you, will you let me go home?”

“You are home,” he replied, pulling away and looking into your eyes so you could see how serious he was. “And I’d feel a lot better if you got some rest in my bedroom.”

You shuddered because you both knew you wouldn’t get a wink of rest if he took you to bed. And if you slept with him, there would be no turning back. “You can’t keep me prisoner here, Winter.”

The cold and ruthless man who only wanted you.

“You’re not my prisoner, Kisa,” he said, pressing his lips softly to your pained cheek. “But I’m never letting you go.”

He’d prove that to you.

I don't know about you lovelies, but I kind of love them. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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georgiapeach30513 · 6 months ago

Text

Two Good Reasons, Part 4

Summary: it is time

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: language, sweet Ransom, difficulties with divorce, Scott, difficult conversations, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8.1K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Ransom,” the man rolls his eyes as Andy walks into his office foyer. Ransom was trying to talk to you, well, you are trying to talk to him about his messages from when he was in court. Of course your annoying boyfriend or whatever he is would come in and interrupt. “I need to speak to your office manager,” you playfully snort, while Ransom’s face falls flat. His eyes narrow at Andy. “Please.”

“I don’t want this to become a habit,” he tells Andy more than you. You aren’t the problem. Andy’s distraction and wandering eyes are the problem. “In fact, I never saw you venture this way much at all unless we needed to discuss a case. And now, you can’t stay away from my part of the office building.”

“It seems a fair trade off since I, the district attorney, come to your office for meetings. If you’d prefer, we can start conducting the meetings on the other side of the building.”

“Five minutes.”

“Ten.”

“Eight,” Ransom counters before Andy gives a nod, and holds out his hand for you. Leave it to Andy to start inserting himself now. You follow him down the long hallway before he’s dragging you into his suite, and on back to his office. His office is more your typical lawyers office, while Ransom’s is immaculate and more ornate. Stark difference between the two best friends, or as they call it, colleagues.

Andy pulls you in for an embrace, in lieu of a kiss. His thick arms wrap around you so tight, and you sink into him. It had been a particularly rough night. Night’s before your babies go to Scott’s for the weekend often are. It’s a pure terror and worry about what could happen, especially given the last time.

“You seem tense,” he says as he pulls back. “Your messages indicate that as well.”

“You’re almost too observant, you know that?” It was his job to be observant, but you aren’t one of his cases.

“And you’re avoiding my question.”

“It wasn’t a question, Andrew, that was a statement,” he sighs, pulling you back into him. Andy starts swaying the two of you to nonexistent music. Resting his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales your sweet scent deeply. If only things concerning Scott weren’t stressful, you could fully enjoy this moment.

“You can trust me to tell me,” he ends his words with a quick kiss on your sensitive skin. This is Andy, you could trust him. He’s not just any man, he’s your Andy. You just fear he’s going to try to fix everything, and unfortunately you didn’t see this being fixed.

“It was a rough night,” he hums, letting you know he is listening, but wants more. “It’s Scott’s weekend, and every time it’s his weekend, I’m left wondering how present he’s going to be. If his stupid bimbo will be there. Will they go against my wishes and she brings her damn cat around my baby? Will he come back home to me, and I have to go through his breathing treatments again? I fear that his apartment isn’t as safe for him. That cat is just one allergy, but what if my baby eats something, and Scott or Taylor don’t react fast enough?”

Your breath is so ragged as you cling to him. When was the last time you had someone just be there? Even if Andy couldn’t fix anything, just having that support is comforting. Scott was there, but was he ever there just for you? Andy doesn’t have to say anything, there’s nothing he can do. But him just being there means everything. Just to have a support system in what feels like years is a relief. Realizing you didn’t have that when you and Scott were together makes you feel stupid. You stayed, and you didn’t have this.

“Doe, I’m sorry,” he doesn’t have to be sorry, but there is a tone in his voice that shows you how sincere he is. “Tell me what you want me to do, and I will.”

“Could we just go to your place?”

“Your place is closer to Scott’s though, isn’t it?” It is. But…, “Wouldn’t it be better to be at your place in case of an emergency? We could get there faster?” True, but you didn’t want him to know that you didn’t sleep in your room. You didn’t care if Andy stayed at your house all weekend, but the embarrassment is already hitting that he’s going to see you avoid going into that room.

“You’re right,” of course he’s right, but your feelings aren’t wrong. They were right, too. Too soon your phone vibrates, and it’s probably Ransom telling you that eight minutes is up, and yes, you know. But you needed this moment, and little talk. Grabbing your phone, you answer it quickly, “Hello?!”

“Mrs. Huffman,” you hate that name with a passion, “Umm, I’m calling because it appears that someone forgot to pick up the kids.”

“What?” Anger laces through your one word question. Today is your late day working. Because you said you could. And Scott forgets the kids?

“Yeah, I know you said that it was Mr. Huffman’s day to get them this morning, but he’s not answering his phone,” you glance up at Andy who is looking at you with so much concern. “Can…”

“I’ll be right there,” she thanks you before you hang up the phone. “Scott didn’t pick up the kids. But…”

“Just bring them back here,” he’s joking. He’s got to be joking. “Listen, it’s Friday, Ransom doesn’t have any cases, and neither do I. We give that to the second ADA. Afterwards if Scott still hasn’t reached out, we’ll go take them to get dinner, and soft play. Audrey seems very concerned with that.”

“Andy…”

“Come on, let’s tell Ransom. You gotta get the kids,” obviously you had to get them. It’s bringing them back here that’s got you a bit paranoid. “It’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. We’ve got a fridge stocked with snacks. While you’re gone I’ll put any snack that Suede is allergic to up in a basket, and out of reach of him. And don’t you dare ask why I’m being nice. You need it. Go on, run and get the kids, I’ll let Ransom know what’s up.”

Standing on your tiptoes, you give him a chaste kiss in thanks before going to get your things, while Andy goes back to Ransom’s part of the office building. His friend and colleague glares at him. “I send you off with my office manager, and you return solo.”

“Scott forgot to pick up the kids,” Ransom groans, “She’s going to get them.”

“Today was her late day.”

“And she’s bringing them back here,” another groan. “Would you quit being so dramatic? They’re good kids. You won’t even notice them.”

“You’re getting involved,” Andy’s mouth curls up into a smile. “I told you not to get involved. This is the very opposite of not getting involved, Andy.”

“What was she supposed to do? He didn’t get her kids, they have to be picked up, it has to be her.”

“That’s not what I mean at all. I would have let her go, I’m not a monster,” he takes a slow calculated breath as he stares at Andy, “She’s the one, hmm? The one that got away. The one that made you never truly connect to other women? The reason that Penny or Melanie or whoever never worked out. You’re doing whatever you have to to make sure that she doesn’t get away again?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Ransom gives Andy one of his famous eye rolls. “I’m not a child. I know her, she knows me. So yeah, things are moving fast-ish. No, we haven’t slept together again. She needs friends. Her family isn’t anywhere near here, and even if she wanted to leave, she has this divorce,” Andy makes it sounds so much simpler than it is. Or maybe it’s because it is exactly this simple.

“Okay, Romeo. I’m just saying. She’s bringing them back here?” Andy smiles, nodding. He has to fix the snacks, and make sure everything is safe for Suede. “I don’t do kids.”

“Send them to my office if you have to,” Ransom was all bark, and no bite. He had no doubt that everything would be fine. And you wouldn’t be put in a bind. Yet, another thing you can add to your growing list of why Scott didn’t deserve full custody of your children.

Andy leans into Ransom’s waiting area, smiling to himself as you hold a slowly drifting asleep Suede in your lap. His face squished up against your chest while you type, and Audrey colors something on the floor. Laying on her belly with her tongue sticking out, and her knees kicking around. Andy clears his throat, and Audrey looks up at him with the biggest grin, “Andy! I wanted to see you.”

She leaves her coloring book behind as she jumps up from the floor and walks over to him, and Suede’s eyes burst open, “Na Na! Peas?” You can’t hide how happy you are for their excitement. Suede wiggles out of your arms, and Andy picks both kids up, and you gulp. Scott never quite gave you the tingling millions of butterflies in your belly just to see him hold onto your kids.

You aren’t sure how something can be both wholesome and sexy all at the same time. But the way his thick arms flex as he holds them has you feeling things, and the way he smiles at them has those butterfly wings flapping aggressively in your belly. Moments like these are so sweet and simple, and mean the world to you.

The way he gives each one attention, and not just your talkative girl. Asking them how their day was, and listening intently to every nonsensical word, and um that comes out of your baby boy’s mouth. He isn’t even looking at you for approval, he’s just being a normal father figure to them kids. This is how greetings with them after their day should be. When Audrey tries to interrupt, he tells her to wait her turn, looking at you to make sure it’s okay to correct her behavior and you nod. You hope that this isn’t an act, and you don’t feel it is. It’s natural.

How is it that a man that had no biological ties to these children can appreciate them more than their father? Scott wasn’t a terrible husband, when it was just the two of you. But his lack of involvement as a father was laughable. You were the woman, you were the one that took care of the house, and the children. All you wanted was a partner. Staring at Andy now makes you realize how wrong you chose, and just how long you made excuses for Scott.

“Andy,” Audrey finally gets his attention when Suede finishes. “If daddy doesn’t pick us up tonight, can you go eat with us? Mommy said we can eat at the pizza place, and and and go to soft play.”

Andy smiles. He starts to answer, but is distracted by a chubby little hand laying flat on his beard, and he turns to look at Suede, “Chess, pease,” you turn around quickly. You promised yourself that you’d never let your children see your emotions, but your chest fills with so much warmth and love. Feeling everything all at once. Suede only touched two people’s cheeks like that, and both you and Audrey are present. It’s like he has chosen another comfort.

You were told it could be a way for him to show comfortability and vulnerability, but he never did that with his dad. He never stayed in his dad’s arms for more than a few minutes before he was trying to reach towards you. Visiting Scott was the hardest on Suede. “Doe?”

“I’ve got to take something to Ransom. I’ll be back,” you grab some stupid piece of paper, and retreat from this. Trying to work through the emotions. On one hand you are a bit jealous that Suede found comfort in someone that isn’t you. On the other hand he had a man in his life that he trusts, and it is Andy. Your Andy.

“I need a snack.”

“Chess!”

“How does broccoli and ranch sound?” Audrey curls her lip, and Suede shakes his head no. “Well, I have you to know, that Sloane went and brought you back some safe food. And even apples.”

“Mmm, Appies!”

“With sun butter?” Andy nods, carrying the two of them to the break room. He looks back at you, and your back is still turned to him, still looking at a blank piece of paper, still bothered by something that transpired, and he can’t think of what. However, the kids were hungry, and they had to eat. He’ll come back and ask you about this later.

“Come on, it’s snack time, and then,” he lowers his voice, making it only audible for just Audrey and Suede, “I hear there’s a book about a little French girl in Sloane’s desk, you should ask her for it,” Audrey covers her mouth with her hand, giggling while she looks at Suede.

They sound so happy. You didn’t ask or beg Andy to spend time with them, he came to see them. He made sure that the unsafe foods were away from Suede. He was telling them secrets about the office. If you didn’t already have feelings for Andy that bordered on love — you’d have them now. You hated to admit that you still harbored feelings for him, but you did. And moments like these just made that blossom and get bigger until parts of you that felt so alone and hopeless, now feel like there was light at the end of the tunnel.

There was a hope that not only did your children not have to suffer, but you didn’t either. The feeling is like a hug. Simple, warm, loving, comforting, and the best thing in the world. It’s what a family should be, and should feel. Everyday is a new realization that you didn’t have these moments with your family.

“What are you doing?” Ransom asks, attempting to walk out of the door. “I don’t do tears.”

“It’s nothing.”

He blows out an exasperated puff of air. “Nothing doesn’t make you look so — weepy,” his voice is so flat, seemingly disinterested. “But if I can offer you some advice, you should trust him,” you furrow your brows as you look at him. There’s this part of you that doesn’t want to interrupt Andy and the kids, but you want to watch them. “He’s always wanted a family, and from the sounds of it, you’re the only woman he wanted it with. He doesn’t want to fuck it up, so he won’t. So let your walls down, and enjoy the moments. You’re used to his stubbornness and protectiveness, so…”

His voice trails off. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. So he won’t change. So there’s his flaw. So you’ll have to continue to deal with it. So now there’s little people for him to protect. “Oh, and Ray agreed to take your case,” that gets your attention. You straighten up. Ray would make a huge difference for you. Scott even mentioned Ray a few times during your marriage. “So…I don’t know, go make sure Barber isn’t poisoning the allergic one.”

That’s about as soft as you are going to get with Ransom, and you know it. But a quick little break to make sure ‘the allergic one’ is not being fed something he shouldn’t have, would not hurt. Ransom meant well, and you’re so thankful for him. But not as thankful as Audrey jumping up and down at Andy’s feet, while he holds Suede, squinting as he reads the ingredients on the back of a box.

“It’s a safe food,” you answer softly, and he lowers the packet of fruit snacks to Audrey. Suede gives him a little pout, but Andy is quick to grab his own pack, and open it for him.

“Go ask Sloane for her book,” he tells the two of them before they run off, and you immediately circle your arms around his waist. You couldn’t help a hug, and a quick peck to his lips, “What’s this for?”

“For being you,” his lips turn up in a smile, and he reminds you of the way he looked when he was younger. There were more freckles that dotted over his nose, and more wrinkles around his eyes. He is thicker in the best way, a luscious full beard, but the best parts of him are still the same. “I’m serious. You’re amazing with them, and I thank you for learning.”

“You gave Sloane a list of safe foods, didn’t you?” Nodding you stand on your tippy toes for another too quick kiss. Seeing him reading the back of that box was oddly sexy. You don’t regret not telling him that Sloane made a quick trip to the store, and you need to pay her for that. You could look at this man reading the ingredients daily because it was…breathtaking. The older you get, the more things of attractiveness changes. This wasn’t one you saw happening until it did.

“No word from Scott?”

“No. I’m sure he’s in court or something. I get used to not relying on him,” Andy searches your face, contemplating how to respond to that. You shouldn’t have to be used to it. That shouldn’t be normal. “It’s fine.”

“How often was it just you and the kids waiting on him?” You shrug. You didn’t want this conversation. You didn’t want to dwell in the past. Didn’t want to think of how much you let things slide with Scott because you felt you needed to make your marriage work, and he was still the one that stepped out on your family.

“I should really make sure the kids are okay,” if Andy could wrap you in a tight cocoon and make you see what you deserved, he would. He wants you to see your value to his life because to him you and the kids were not a burden. You know you’re a good mom, but did you know you are a good partner?

“I’m going to guess we’ll have the kids for dinner though,” we. He loves hearing you say we, especially when they’re involved. If he could fully take Scott out of the equation, he would. Not only did he not deserve them, or your kindness, Andy didn’t mind having them always around.

He definitely didn’t mind people making comments about what a beautiful family he had. Or even that his son looked just like him, and how he’s so good with them. He didn’t want to correct them. People never questioned it because that’s exactly what you were becoming. He knows he should slow down, and not get too attached or ahead of himself. Not growing up with a father himself, he’s always craved a son where he could be the dad that he wanted.

He sighs, it would only be a matter of time before Scott completely lost interest. Men like him only wanted to use the kids as a weapon for you. He was using custody as a way for you to worry. Asserting his dominance wherever he could. Prick. He’s an asshole. He just hopes that Scott sees who has been spending time with his kids, and just how happy they are, and their mama.

—

Ransom slumps down into his chair, hands reaching towards a file on his desk when he hears tittering, and he bends at his waist to look under his desk, “What are you doing down there?”

Audrey giggles, popping another fruit chew in her mouth, and then a third hand points at the book that’s in her lap. Suede peeks his body around his sister’s smiling up at the man, “I’m not doing a very good job at reading. There’s lots of words.”

“Chess.”

Ransom smiles, nodding his head, “You like to play chess?”

“No no, that um — that’s how he says yes. He says it a lot. It’s easy for him. Tell him Suedey.”

“Chess,” his hand presses over his mouth and he giggles, having to sit up and hold his tummy with how much he is laughing. They are cute kids, even if Ransom doesn’t do kids.

“See, mister. He loves it. Do you think you can read this book for us,” the barely visible smile on Ransom’s face fades, and his head slightly shakes no, “I can’t read, and my mommy is working, and,” she crawls out from under the desk, laying the book on the shiny wood of Ransom’s ostentatious desk.

“Do you think mommy can take us to Paris one day?” Audrey places a hand under the desk, helping her brother up, and Suede places two arms up to Ransom. “He wants you to hold him. You can say no,” Ransom takes a moment to ponder before lifting the toddler up into his lap, but Audrey stands beside him, opening up the book to the first page.

“It has a lot of words,” her finger drags under the words, and Ransom stares at her curiously. Even though she is tiny, you can see her squinting, and sounding out a few of the letters. Reminds him of his childhood, a boy too young, forced to be above children his age academically. “Would Andy take us to Paris with mommy?”

How is he even supposed to answer that? He could put a bug in Andy’s ear that she wants to go to Paris. He could ask Andy to take her to a French restaurant, but he can’t possibly say that he would take them and their mom. “Do you like Andy?”

“Chess.”

“Uh huh. Mommy smiles when he’s around,” the little girl turns to look at Ransom, and he’s shocked by how much she looks like you, especially in the eyes. The exact shape, and even the different flecks of colors. “Is Andy like Taylor is to daddy?”

“I don’t know what that means,” he turns his head to see the little boy smiling at him. He lifts his chunky little hand, and slightly touches his cheek before moving it back down to his lap and giggles at Ransom. “What do you mean by your question?”

“I think Andy wants to kiss mommy,” it is a simple enough sentence that holds a lot more weight than she realizes. Ransom smiles, shrugging at her. “She didn’t smile with daddy like she does with Andy,” Audrey turns to look at Ransom, smiling at him, and then her brother. “I like him, too. But can you read this?” Her little chubby finger taps on the book a bit aggressively, “I’m sorry, booky. Please, Ansom?”

“Ransom.”

“I said that.”

“Ann!” Suede throws both arms in the hair, and giggles. “Ann!”

“Is he always like this?” Audrey covers her hand with her mouth, giggling again, and she nods. “Fine. Let’s read the Paris book,” he clears his throat, making both kids giggle once more. “In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.”

“Ran,” opening the door, you stop abruptly, and all three of them look up at you. “Oh, I was wondering where you two were. Come on, we should leave Ransom alone,” all three pout. Even Ransom, confusing you immensely. He told you he didn’t do kids. He didn’t hate them, but didn’t want to be around them. And now he’s reading to them with Suede and his sticky fingers in his lap.

“They're fine. Maybe bring some popcorn in here or something?” Audrey shakes her head no. “Why not?”

“We’ll choke,” she deadpans. “Those scratchy things in the middle. Andy buys us the puffy ones, so we don’t have to worry about choking.”

“Does he? That Andy sure does try to make life easier,” clearing your throat, Ransom looks up at you smiling. “We’re reading about the Paris girl. I think Audrey and Suede deserve macarons.”

“Suede can’t. There’s eggs,” Audrey beat you to it. She is his little keeper, and so protective of him. You are sure she keeps Scott in line with him, even if it isn’t her job. “Mommy, did daddy call?” You shake your head no, thinking she’s going to be sad. “Oh yay! So Andy is taking us to pizza and soft play for sure?”

“We’ll see. Read your Paris girl book. It won’t be long until it’s leaving time. And behave. You want me to leave the door open, Ransom?” He shakes his head, and shoos you out the door. You did not see this happening. Ransom said he didn’t care much for kids, and here he is being all sweet and loving with yours. You wouldn’t tell him, but it suited him, even if it was just as the fun uncle that could give them back at the end of the day.

Even though Scott brought you out here away from your friends and family, you feel the need to give him a quick and silent thank you. It brought you to Andy, and now it appears you are growing an inner circle. People to rely on. People you can trust with your kids. People that don’t look at them like a burden. People that cared. What felt like your world had ended, just ensured a new start that you needed.

“Suede,” your little boy quickly sits down in his seat, offering a sweet smile to Andy. He had already been told once not to stand up in the seat. Andy’s voice is soft, but stern enough that Suede knows he needs to keep his bottom in the seat. “Thank you.”

“Chess,” he holds up his hand out for Andy who fists bumps him in return. Blinking his eyes hard at him before smiling up at you. Leaning in for a hug.

“Was your dinner good, buddy?”

“Chess,” Andy questioned you with the pizza at first, until you told him about this place that was very accommodating for Suede’s allergies. Suede turns to look at Andy, but his eyes go upwards instead. A moment of unease flashes in his eyes, and he leans into your body, “Mama, no.”

Following his eyesight, you catch Scott freeze, seeing the back of Andy’s head, and Audrey sitting beside him. He never looks like he's in a good mood, but now he’s completely unsavory. “What’s going on?”

“Daddy,” Audrey looks at you, and then up at Andy, her happy face now looking sad. “Uhh, Andy is taking us to soft play.”

“Daddy is really tired, and they’re closed. I need to talk with you outside,” he gives a point towards you. Of course he needs to talk to you. Showing up unannounced, and Andy is with you. His nostrils flare a moment with the impending anger that’s lighting up his face. Talk really means he wants to berate you.

“It’s not closed, we saw it. Andy said…”

“Audrey,” while he doesn’t yell, his voice raises, and you grit your teeth. Friday night, and they were looking forward to fun. Leave it to Scott to be a disappointment. Again. Wiping your hands on your napkin, you grab up Suede, handing him over to Andy.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott turns to look at you as Andy pulls Suede out of your arms. It is becoming harder and harder not to want to scream at him, especially when he uses foul language in front of the children.

“You wanted to talk to me. So Andy can stay with the kids,” the man that has spent every single evening with you and the kids, stares up at you. His free hand rubs up your thigh, and he offers a sad smile, “I’ll be right back,” and his eyes move over to Scott, nodding his hey.

Oh he’s angry. Not nearly as angry as you are for his five hour late pickup. Didn’t even tell you he was coming, just showed up. You can see how angry he is as you follow him to the parking lot. You don’t like to compare the two, but Andy would never deny fun for the kids. He had a long tiring day as well.

You’re barely out of the restaurant when Scott rounds towards you, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Feeding our children dinner since you were late.”

“I was working, and you know exactly what I mean,” you blink slowly. If he wants to say something, he can, but you won’t be offering up any information. “Fucking Andy Barber? The damn DA, is this some competition,” you scoff, there was never a competition. “And you left our kids with him.”

“So you wanted them to hear you talk like this to me?” Scott sighs. You knew he wouldn’t answer the question. You’re always the one that is wrong, while he’s always the one that is wronged in some way. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You sure did move on fast?” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you turn to walk back inside. The audacity. He was moving on and the two of you were very much together. You didn’t have a say in the matter when he was laying underneath the damn babysitter. “Did you ever love me?”

“You were the one that cheated, Scott. You came home early, so you could fuck our babysitter in our bed. Did you even think about me? Or about how our daughter would feel? Suede is too young to understand, but Audrey knows you left her mom to be with the babysitter. Love was never our strong suit though, was it?” The stronger your love for Andy grows, the more you realized Scott and you had been going through the motions. Was there ever any love?

Rolling your eyes, you turn away from him. If this is the only conversation he wants to have, it’s useless. You’re doing nothing wrong. You hadn’t even slept with Andy since that first night. And even if you did, you two were legally separated and going through a divorce. “Suede could be older and still wouldn’t understand.”

“What did you say?” don’t turn around, and don’t look at him. He makes you sick.

“You heard me,” no, you’re not quite you did.

“And what do you mean by that?”

“He’s never going to be as advanced as Audrey,” if it wouldn’t hurt your case for custody, you’d claw his eyes out. If he wants to blame you for the marriage failing, you don't care, but to say one damn thing about your child is another thing. “You coddle him.”

“I hate you,” always your fault. Suede’s ‘delays’ as Scott called them, will forever be your fault. He was supposed to be his ‘boy’ and now he looks at your son like he’s a mistake. A failure. And he’s two.

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart. Now let me get my kids from your dildo.”

“Why are you so mean to him? Why do you put so much pressure on your son? He’s a baby.”

“No, he’s not,” you have to look at him now. You need to understand why he can’t just be happy with who Suede is, instead of trying to make him who he wants him to be.

“He just turned two. He is a baby. He wears diapers, his vocabulary is improving, but he is a baby. If you — if you don’t want him why do you insist on full custody? Why do you rip him out of my arms, crying, if you don’t want him? You don’t even like him. I’m not even sure you like Audrey. This a damn power grab, you’re using my babies as a weapon to hurt me. Just leave him with me and…”

“Go on, say it. Andy. Is he enjoying the bed that I fucked that baby boy in you in? You want to act like he’s so fucking grand. Sloppy damn seconds,” you take a deep breath in, wondering how he views you as sloppy seconds but not himself. Or even if Taylor is someone’s sloppy seconds. Pig. “Just trying to replace me because I left you. You even went after a goddamn lawyer,” of course he’d hit you with low blows, and as much as it infuriates you, it hurts more how he is with your baby.

“Answer the questions. You’re changing the subject, and I’m talking about our son. If you don’t want my baby, and he’s so difficult with his allergies, and his separation anxiety, then leave him with his mom!”

“You created a monster! Taylor can’t even deal with him most of the time because all he says is ‘chess’ or ‘my mama at’. Separation anxiety? No, you baby the boy, and made him rely on you so you think it’ll give you a leg to stand on with custody. Audrey was never that difficult, hell she was potty trained at his age. She’s starting to read now. And he’s…”

“He’s a fucking baby, Scott! Just let him stay with me, please!” You’re not above begging when it comes to your children, especially if Scott is getting them when he’s angry.

“No. Because if he stays with you then Audrey — you know how she is with her brother. They don’t like to be separated,” it’s always about the easy child. His pride and joy. The one he whispered to her about how she would become a lawyer someday. Another thing that annoyed you, pressure on a four year old. “They both are coming with me, as per our agreement. So let me get my kids.”

“Can you at least take them to the soft play, and trampolines for thirty minutes?”

“What is the damn deal with soft play? That’s all they ever want to do.”

“Because they’re kids, and they have fun! They want to play with their dad, is that such a wrong thing?” You turn into the restaurant, watching Andy calmly talk to your world. Such a beautiful picture in contrast to what their parents are doing outside. Suede lifts his chubby little hand, and holds it against Andy’s cheek, petting his beard. He waits until Andy smiles at him before pulling it away, and he snuggles into his chest. That was a father’s love. Not whatever the hell Scott is doing.

Despite what Scott wants to imply, there’s nothing wrong with Suede. His learning is delayed compared to Audrey’s, but from his doctors to his teachers, he is just a normal little boy. There’s a sadness that wraps around you knowing that Suede has more comfort with Andy than his own father. A man he’s known his whole life is nothing compared to the man that he barely knows.

“Does Andy play with them?” you look at Scott, and for the first time in a long time, there’s a sadness in his eyes, but it flares back into his competitive composure. If he is so concerned with Andy and the kids, he’s the only one that can fix it. It wasn’t Andy’s problem.

“We both do,” you answer solemnly before opening the door to the restaurant. You aren’t going to listen to him bully you or speak ill of his son anymore. You want him to suffer with the reality that his son is already replacing him with a man that is paying attention to him. You and Andy hadn’t been doing, whatever this is, long, and already Suede treated him like his father.

“Come on,” you try to smile as you reach for Suede. “It’s time to go to daddy’s house.”

“Mama, no,” this is the part that breaks you every time. Hearing him beg you not to make him go to his dad’s grinds your soul in half. You hate thinking that he may blame you, may think you’ve abandoned him. So instead, you just don’t look into his eyes.

“Audrey, grab your coloring sheet if you want to,” she reaches for her sheet as you grab up Suede, and she and Andy scoot out of the booth. Andy has never been part of a switch between you and Scott. It’s also why you preferred he picked them up from daycare. The extra hours with you made things difficult for them to leave. It’s him leaving you that seems to be the issue.

“Mama, no,” you can’t even meet his eyes as he touches your cheek. You know Scott didn’t hurt Suede. You also know he didn’t enjoy him or appreciate him, and with Audrey it is nonstop pressure to read, and write, and whatever thing he felt like she needed to be ahead for. Audrey has to be the best academically, and judging by the earlier conversation, he has no faith in Suede.

“Mama, pease!” He sniffles, cuddling into your chest, and you kiss on top of his head. Bit by bit part of your heart crumbles. The part that you gave your children, and it’s every other weekend. Audrey grabs Andy’s hand as you walk back outside. Getting an eye roll from Scott as soon as he sees Andy with his prized possession. His daughter. “Mama, no,” the first sign of his cries, broken words. “Me tay.”

“It’s stay, Suede. And you can’t stay because it’s my weekend,” Suede screams as Scott pulls at his body. Trying to take him from you. “Suede, enough!” He pulls harder, and his voice reaches a screeching high, shattering that part of your heart as his body shivers from anguish.

“Mommy will get you Sunday.”

“You’re only making this worse,” you hate him, and it has nothing to do with what he did to you, it’s what he’s doing to your children. “Suede, you’re fine,” you bite your tongue, holding back your own tears as he kicks. Thrashing around while Scott buckles him in, and one name on his lips. Mama. Over and over it tugs at your heart. Your baby needs you, and you can’t comfort him without causing more of a scene.

It’s one of the hardest things that you have to do. Ignoring him because it can get worse. You kneel down in front of Audrey, and she jumps into your arms giving you the biggest hug, “Will you make sure that Suedey is okay when you get in the car?”

“Yes, mommy. I’m sorry.”

“Baby, it’s okay. I’ll see you Sunday before supper, okay?” Audrey nods before she walks to her side of the car, getting in her seat herself, but Scott goes to buckle her. She extends a hand over to her crying brother, and more pieces of your heart break.

“Can you text or call and let me know when he calms down?”

“Yeah,” Scott answers shortly, closing Audrey’s door before he goes to the driver’s side. “Guess we can’t go to soft play with a baby that won’t stop crying,” bastard. Blaming Scott’s mistakes on Suede.

“I’ll take them Sunday,” Scott glares at Andy, and you are just numb. The teachers told you that while Suede was sad when his dad picked him up, there was no crying. You hate him for making you hear this. “Doe, let’s go.”

You’re not a person that wants to get even very often, but if you could make him feel like you did right now, you would. And if it is the fact that Andy already said he’d take them out Sunday after pickup that makes Scott hurt, so be it. It kills you to hear his muffled cries still. The fact that he had a good day, and evening, only for it to end with him in so much turmoil only hurts worse. You give a silent prayer that he can soothe himself soon. Scott never liked long crying sessions. He wasn’t patient enough to handle it.

“Your place or mine?”

“I don’t care as long as you hold me,” he opens up your car door, and you jump in, finally letting your tears cascade over your cheeks. You’re thankful you thought to leave Andy’s car at the house because you wouldn’t be able to drive right now. Everything in your body aches. Your his mother, and you couldn’t hold him until his tears stop. He is crying for you, and you have to walk away from him.

“He’s so mean to my baby. I don’t know if he hates him or if he’s ashamed of him,” you suck in a ragged breath, trying to calm your tears. “Suede’s always had health issues. He was born too early, it was a difficult pregnancy, his allergies were caught before he was a year old, now they’re talking about his vision, but he’s just a baby. And he’s usually so happy and full of light, but I think Suede knows that Scott doesn’t love him like he loves Audrey. Why are my kids the ones that have to suffer?”

“Audrey soothes Suede, but she’s a baby herself. She shouldn’t have to. They don’t have fun with their dad. And I don’t know how I could have been so wrong in a father for them. I just — I don’t care about me anymore, I just want them to be okay, and I fear that Suede is just forgotten there. A mistake,” god you hate reliving that day. That moment when that asshole murmured he was a mistake.

“What?” Andy’s voice is so hard. It’s a dangerous timbre.

“He said that Suede was a mistake,” you rest your head on the back of the seat. “It was that day that whatever I felt towards Scott was completely erased. I hated him and it took four words for me to hate him. My kids aren’t mistakes. They’re my everything, and if I have to feel this gut wrenching pain, so they don’t have to, I don’t care anymore. I’ll deal with Scott, but that — that is so hard to deal with, and it makes me feel so small every time because I can’t fix it.”

His hands grip onto the steering wheel too tight. His eyes staring out onto the road before taking a deep breath. He removes a hand, and places it on your thigh. You don’t smile, but you pick up his hand and hold it with both of yours. Weaving your delicate fingers in his, while your right hand clings to his so tightly. He didn’t have to say anything, but you know he’s offering to be your strength.

“I’m tired of this constant fight, and this constant fear that my baby is going to be forgotten, and neglected, and do you know what happens to unattended children? They get into things. Certain things he can get into could kill him,” your breath stutters in your throat. “I don’t think that they let them use the phone to call me as much as they want. It’s just another way to separate us. I call every day. Multiple times a day. Scott maybe calls every other day..”

Lifting up his hand, he kisses over your knuckles. “I just wish I could talk to them before bed, so I knew that they were going to sleep without tears in their eyes,” he kisses your knuckles again as you pull into the driveway. Another long weekend, but this time you didn’t have to spend it alone. Even a little bit of a distraction will help.

“Thank you,” your voice is so hoarse as Andy gets out of the car. He opens your door, undoes your buckle, and lifts you up into his arms. Letting you koala around him as he carries you into the house. It’s the most comforting gesture. Days like this walking is difficult, and he takes that responsibility from you. His comfort couldn’t change anything, but it can give you comfort and support when you just want to stare at nothing.

“I want you in something comfortable in five minutes, and then we’re going to be lazy on the couch the rest of the evening. Audrey told me she was sad because she wanted a slumber party with me, you, Suede, and Ann,” he smirks as you lift your head off his shoulder. Of course he’d get a kick out of Audrey asking him to spend the night.

“Ann?”

“I think that’s what they’ve decided to call Ransom. Go on. Get comfy. I’m just wearing sweatpants, and a t-shirt,” perfect clothes to cuddle him in. Your eyes get heavy just thinking about it. Drop offs like that are draining, and you want to sleep until you get to see them again.

“Old and worn in?”

“It’s the only way to wear it. Go on,” reluctantly you walk away from him. Opening up your bedroom door, and freeze. It’s the same time every time. That stupid blonde girl with her hands firmly on your husband’s chest while her body sucks him into her. No condom. You thought you had been seeing things, but he confirmed it. No condom. And lucky for him, he didn’t transfer anything to you.

So many things you couldn’t forgive him for. He is selfish. He’s disgusting. And you hate him. You hate that he’s the one that is in your kids’ life, and you don’t even know if there will ever be a time that you don’t hate him. You sigh as those thick arms wrap around your waist, and you lean your head back on his shoulder.

“It’s where you caught them,” Andy doesn’t ask, but you nod your head. You hate coming into this room. Everything about it reminds you of that day. He lit candles. There was soft music. And he was staring up at her like she was a goddess. His hands gripped her hips so tightly. Did he ever look at you liked that?

Andy’s lips pepper kisses down your jaw. “When was the last time you slept in here?”

“The night before it happened,” he lets you go. Starting to pull off the clothes from the day. His fingers glide over your skin like the strokes of a paintbrush. Getting you completely naked before he bends down, and pulls out his shirt from the day, and slips it on you.

“Grab you some panties, or don’t,” there’s something so solid in his voice as he walks over to the bed, and yanks off the duvet. Tossing pillows to the side of it. Ripping at every linen that you split tears on as you made the bed one last time. Ending with a pile of bedding, and then he grunts, pulling the mattress off to the side.

“We’re going bed shopping this weekend,” you gasp as you look at him. “Either we get you a new fucking bed, or we buy a house. What do you want to do?”

Kiss him. Make love with him. Why was getting rid of the bed so simple? That makes perfect sense to remove the bed. “Andy, I…”

“I already told you I was going to marry you. And when I do, I won’t be living in this house. But temporarily I need you to sleep in a bed. So, are we going bed shopping or buying a house this weekend?”

“Bed.”

“There’s my girl,” he grins, and you take a few steps to close the gap between you. Wrapping yourself into his warmth. “When you can’t do that anymore, I will be there. I hated that, and I can’t imagine what you’re going through. He’s a callous man, but he won’t win. I may only be a step dad to them, but,” he stutters. Pulling you even closer to him. “I love them, just like I love you. I will fight for both of you, and I understand court order. So I have to be productive where I can. And this is where I start, making sure you get good sleep.”

“Thank you,” you whimper, and he lets you melt into him. Soaking up his scent, and his strength. You needed him, not as another parent, but him. Just to be with you. “I love you, too.”

You let all those walls tumble down because you can’t continue to keep them up. You are one person, and you’re tired of fighting, and this isn’t a fight that was worth it. Why can you not love Andy? Why should you not just let him in, and trust him the way that you did Scott? Because being strong for your kids was making your other walls weaker. Instead of putting up boundaries from Andy, you want him inside your walls as added protection.

“We’ll buy a bed,” you laugh. It’s silly, but it’s freeing. Freeing to admit to yourself and to Andy you love him. You want him, and you don’t have to pretend anymore.

“And a dog.”

“No.”

“There’s dogs that detect allergies.”

“No.”

“Fine, when we buy us a house that we both, and the kids adore, and it has extra space just in case,” you look up at him and how adorable he is with his hope. You couldn’t have kids, but you wish you could give Andy at least one biological child. “We’ll buy a house. After the divorce. Deal?”

“You got a deal.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

#two good reasons #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber fic #andy barber fics #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfics #tw: divorce

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hollowempire · 1 month ago

Text

Soothing Song | Jod Na Nawood x GN!Reader

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Summary: Nights on a (space) pirate ship full of noisy individuals aren't ideal for sleeping. Fortunately, the captain is there to offer some relief.

Note: I needed Jod fics immediately so I decided to take matters into my own hands and start writing reader inserts again. Got this idea from Jod singing in Episode 6.

Warnings: None, but note this takes place before the events of Skeleton Crew and Jod is referred to as Silvo as that’s what the context calls for.

Word Count: 1,530

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

Living on a pirate ship as someone who preferred to still follow somewhat of a normal routine was not a situation intended for the weak, but after getting dragged into a crew of rowdy pirates with no say in the matter themself y/n didn’t have much of a choice but to stick it out. They had ended up among their ranks after mistakenly becoming a witness to one of said crew’s many misdeeds, a seemingly simple case of wrong place wrong time, but rather than execution to avoid leaving witnesses to tell the tale this civilian suffered a much worse fate: dealing with them.

Now, y/n was by no means weak in any sense. In fact, their spirit was why they were allowed–or rather forced–to live and join in the first place, with their quick thinking that day leading to their evasion of the law showing them to be a rather useful ally. But one could only handle so many sleepless nights before it became unbearable. They were noisy, and there always seemed to be something going on. Previous attempts to shout, plead, and threaten them into silence proved to be useless, so all they could do was lay there.

Moving from their back and onto their side facing the window, sorry excuse for a mattress creaking pathetically with the movement, their gaze became trained on the endless array of stars beyond the glass. One of the few positives they managed to find in their predicament was the views, both during travel and on the surfaces of the various planets they encountered on adventures. Their home planet had practically nothing to offer, air so thick with pollution there were people who doubted the sky was anything more than a myth, and there was of course never an opportunity to leave. So in any other case, getting taken away would have been like a dream come true.

Only it wasn’t. A harsh clanging of drinks against tables indicating something exciting was happening outside reminded them of that.

Trying not to pay too much attention to the commotion, y/n momentarily lost themself among stars. They thought about how quiet it must be for them. How lovely it must be.

“You haven’t come out to complain tonight, is everything okay?”

The sudden voice coming from the door to y/n’s quarters startled them, leading them to jolt into an upright position and reach for the blaster strapped to the side of their bed on instinct. That instinct was something instilled in them after months of pirate adventures.

“Relax,” The culprit held up his hands as he spoke, stature more teasing than that of someone who was in any actual danger. “I don’t think the others would take very kindly to the assassination of their captain,”

Upon realizing it was Captain Silvo who had interrupted their false sense of peace, y/n visibly relaxed and sighed.

“What are you doing in here?” they questioned. He hardly ever stepped away from the celebrations that transpired after a successful job, which was exactly what was happening right then, and their confusion grew when he locked the door as it slid closed behind him.

“Checking up on you,” his statement was plain, changing tone right at the end with the newfound absence of his vocoder as he shed the mask that often obscured his entire face.

That was another positive y/n found in all this, his face. Silver hair framed undeniably handsome features, and the sight of it made their heart flutter in their chest ever so slightly. It was a rare occurrence, so the effect was something they were never quite able to get used to.

“What, worried your prisoner got too comfortable and fell asleep for once? Unlikely,”

“You aren’t a prisoner,”

The only response Silvo received was an eyeroll as y/n turned their attention back to the window. While they could no longer see him, the rough clank they heard from behind indicated he had set down his mask. They wondered what his intention was, first locking the door and now putting his things down as though he intended to stay. Their questions didn’t remain unanswered for very long, though, and they turned back around rather violently upon feeling the bed dip under Silvo’s weight.

“Careful, you’ll give yourself whiplash,” he teased. In that moment y/n realized he had also removed his jacket and discarded it alongside his mask, leaving him in only the loose fabric of his shirt tucked into pants tucked into boots. Said garments brushed against the arm they leaned on to remain balanced, and if it wasn’t for the fact that they were so confused, the sudden proximity might have brought a blush to their face.

“Well, now I’m really wondering,” they crossed their arms as the words left their mouth, then making it a point to emphasize every word as they repeated their earlier question. “What are you doing in here?”

“You’re struggling to sleep, I have a solution,” he spoke as though it was the most casual thing in the galaxy, shrugging and kicking off his boots as he did so.

Y/n scoffed at him, arms still crossed.

“And what might your solution be?”

“I can sing you to sleep,”

This time y/n laughed, and as they did they fell backward into a lying position. They ran their hands over their face as Silvo spoke up again, allowing them to rest there over closed eyes.

“I’m being completely serious,”

Opening their eyes again, y/n shot him a look of disbelief, but the expression that awaited them on the receiving end actually did seem serious. Silvo sat waiting with raised brows, eyes trained on their face with great intensity. Now curious and unwilling to risk hurting his feelings, y/n begrudgingly shifted toward the far end of the bed to make space for him.

“Ah, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist,” His eyes practically lit up when they moved, and the urgency at which he climbed in beside them could only be described as enthusiastic.

Silvo had settled on a sitting position with his back against the wall and legs outstretched beneath the covers, which y/n took as an opportunity to use his thigh as a pillow and shifted so their face ended up pressed against it. The captain opened his mouth to speak, to question it, but y/n interrupted him with an answer before he could even ask.

“You barged into my room and interrupted my alone time, so I’m going to invade your personal space,” they stated as they stretched into a more comfortable position. “Now sing, pretty boy,”

Their newfound ‘pillow’ shook beneath them as a laugh reverberated through Silvo’s body, amused.

“It’s hardly invading if I like it, but whatever you say, darling,”

Y/n’s ears perked up at his use of a pet name. Even though they had been the one to do it first, their heartbeat quickened at the sound. They hoped he couldn’t tell.

“Your heart is beating rather quickly, are you perhaps ill?” Silvo feigned concern, but the faint hint of a smirk could be heard in his voice.

Of course he could tell. They had dug themself into a ditch in getting so close; he could physically feel it.

“Shut up and sing,”

But Silvo’s offer continued to be further delayed, because as y/n spoke they smacked his thigh in retaliation to his teasing. He recoiled dramatically, and as a result y/n slid back onto their original pillow with a thud. They glared at his now pouting face.

“If you’re going to be so ungrateful I could always just leave…” Silvo made a move to get up as he spoke, tone clearly lighthearted, but was stopped by fingers promptly wrapping themselves around his wrist. A smirk returned to his lips. “Desperate, are we?”

“Just get in here,”

The position the two took on that time was far different than before. More intimate, to be exact. Silvo was laying down fully, and y/n’s head found its place on his chest as his arm encircled their back. Neither spoke for a moment, leaving the room as silent as it could be with the constant hum of the ship and the crew’s everlasting noisiness.

Eventually, the quiet beginnings of a song filled the air. It’s not one y/n recognized, but Silvo’s voice is soothing and they let out a content hum to let him know that without feeding his ego too much. As the song carried on his words became clearer but remained soft, accompanied by a gentle hand moving back and forth along their shoulder.

The world around them seemed to fade away as y/n lost themself in Silvo’s song just as they had with the stars before he showed up, and they finally drifted off to sleep there in his arms, grateful he wasn’t screwing around when he said he had a solution.

That was the first good night’s sleep they got in a very long time. Silvo was just glad his excuse to get close to them provided some benefit.

#star wars #skeleton crew #jod na nawood #jod na nawood x reader #captain silvo #captain silvo x reader #gender neutral reader #I haven’t posted a reader insert in so long I’m kinda nervous omg #my fics

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catbread0 · 1 month ago

Note

Hі! Can I make a request from the RoR fandom? Poseidon x reader!Egyptian goddess of truth Maat. It would be interesting to see their dynamic as a couple. After all, the Egyptian goddess of justice and truth was definitely not afraid of the god of the seas.

(Thank you if you take up this strange idea🦝).

Poseidon x Ma’at! Reader

I'm apologize if there are any mistakes when it comes to Ma'at and grammar. Most of the information is from the internet. I did like doing this request since it's two different religions with different histories. Hope you enjoy it!

Words: 1,386

Fluff

Record of Ragnarok Masterlist

Two Pantheons

You were the Egyptian Goddess of justice, truth, order, and balance. Your feathered wings were attached to your arms. You wore many gold armbands and necklaces, and your feather of truth was always strapped to your head.

You weighed the deceased person's heart and determined if they passed on to the afterlife or ceased to exist. You maintained the peace and harmony in your pantheon. You were one of the most important Goddesses in the Egyptian pantheon. Maintaining the universe was no easy task.

Although you do have breaks, after all, each God doesn't always do 24/7 work each day. Heck, some Gods even have side jobs.

But that's not the main focus.

You were walking around the Greek pantheon. You were bored and decided to visit since it was one of the most beautiful pantheons. And you had to agree, as much as you love your pantheon, Greece had so many great views and architecture.

However, you were roaming around the Olympus Palace, thinking it was another beautiful temple or architecture for the public to visit. You were walking around, you were busy looking around, and bumped into someone.

“Oh forgive me, I was busy-” You saw who exactly you bumped into. It was Posideon, God of the Sea. “Oh? Poseidon? I never thought you would be the type to go outside your palace or sea.” You weren’t afraid of him. You, too, were powerful, and you’ve seen him in a few meetings or celebrations before.

“I'm not. You're in the Olympus Palace. Where else do you expect me to have a meeting with Zeus.” He said in a harsh and cold tone.

You were silent. You didn’t realize this was the Olympus Palace. You’ve only had a few meetings or celebrations within the Greek pantheon on a different floating island.

“I had thought this was a temple that your worshippers built. It seems I was mistaken. In addition, no one stopped me. If you ask me, this palace doesn’t have the best security.” You finally replied.

That was your first face-to-face interaction with Poseidon. He was hardly readable, with no expression at all. You went back to your pantheon and went to your father, Ra, God of the Sun. You asked him if he had any information on Poseidon, and to your dismay, he said no. You asked around, and most of them said no, or only knew very little.

The next day, you went to the Greek pantheon again and visited the Sea. You weren't really sure where Poseidon's Palace would be. However, you saw a few nymphs and asked if they knew where it was. They showed you where his palace was and led you inside. You weren't sure if they showed you because they were scared of you or they thought you had a meeting with him.

You thanked the nymphs as you saw them go to a different part of the palace. You wanted to get to know Poseidon better to know why he was the way he was. Soon, you found him in a room that looked like a big aquarium.

Poseidon's back faced you, and you saw how many fishes followed his finger on the glass. You found it amusing since he’s always been cold towards other Gods, “My I’ve never thought you’d have a soft spot for the fishes.”

Poseidon's trident nearly hit your head, but you moved quicker, narrowly dodging it. “Now, now, that's no way to treat a woman. Let alone one of the important Goddesses as well.”

“Who let you in.” He didn’t bother with your statement.

“Those lovely nymphs of yours. They were so nice, it's hard to wrap my head around why they like you so much.” You were having fun messing with him.

While it may not look like it, Posideon was surprised at how you spoke to him, not a single hint of fear in your voice, and stepped into his palace without his permission.

After a few days, it was customary for you to enter Poseidon's Palace whenever you wanted. At first, he was annoyed and tried to scare you away, but you always came back no matter what he did. His youngest brother, Zeus, even laughed at the situation.

Eventually, over time, Poseidon had gotten used to your presence. You would go against him multiple times. Oh, how he hates it when he demands something and it's not done. Although at some point, he would sometimes miss your presence.

After some time, the Greek God of the Sea realized to his horror that he had fallen in love with the Egyptian Goddess. It was something he hadn't felt for possibly decades in his life.

Finally, when Poseidon begrudgingly came to terms with it, he took you to a place with the sea that only he knew.

When you arrived, you had to admit it was beautiful and calming.

Poseidon took your hands into his, “Goddess of truth and justice, you will become my wife.”

Silence filled between the two of you until small laughter came from you. “You may be feared by most. But haven't you learned that I'm not? I won't be your wife, but we could be romantic partners.”

While again you went against his demand, he was all right with your suggestion. That's where your relationship with Poseidon started.

At first, you didn’t know how to explain to the other Egyptian gods about it. However, it went more smoothly than you had thought. Anubis, who was basically your colleague, was happy for you and showed one of the most support for it.

When you and Poseidon made it official, you told him straight up that you didn’t tolerate nymphs in his palace or for him to even try and flirt with them. You’ve heard from a few people that Poseidon was one of the Greek gods who had many nymphs and lovers. Poseidon agreed with your decision.

Poseidon would give you affection but only in private. He has an image to uphold and can't have it ‘tainted’ for something simple. Although he would sometimes hold your hand, usually under a table, he would still be cold and harsh.

Even in the relationship when Poseidon got too egotistic or harsh with you, you would make him remember he was talking to you. You may be the lover of the Tyrant God of the Sea, but you paid no fear when it came to him. You didn't care to even knock him down a few pegs in public.

Poseidon was amused with your winged arms. He would place his hand against your feather and brush through it. Poseidon would admire each color on your wings, and if one ever fell, he would keep it and use it to write. He mostly took it with him since both of you had important duties and tasks that you wouldn’t be able to see each other.

Poseidon would ask his staff to buy some gold necklaces and armbands from his pantheon to give to you. You loved the gifts and would wear them when you returned to your duties. It would remind you of him.

Whenever he would be with you, his eyes would betray him. While he looked annoyed, his eyes would change, a bit more with life, the moment he saw you.

At some point in your relationship with him, you moved into his palace. You didn't know how you were able to at first due to your duties in the Egyptian pantheon. However, Poseidon suggested that his chariot with his 2 half-fish horses would fly you back to your pantheon each morning. It worked out perfectly for you.

A few gods, from both pantheons and even others, would wonder and ask why you continued to be in a relationship with him. They thought that Poseidon was treating you horribly and possibly harmed you. You would just reply by saying that a person's heart can weigh differently from what meets the eye.

Bonus: Random headcanon

I feel like Poseidon would wake up usually when you are getting dressed. Not because he's a pervert but because his brain automatically knows you're about to leave. He would probably admire you as you put on the final touches. And would look away when you catch his gaze in the mirror.

~Lilly's

#ror poseidon #x reader #character x reader #fluff #oneshot #poseidon #record of ragnarok #record of ragnorak #poseidon ror #poseidon x reader

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oopsiedaisiesbaby · 1 month ago

Note

Okay but that photo of Bucky on the Bed and Buck against the wall is definitely Bucky telling Buck about his dream omega that he wants to mate and marry one day

I think you’re talking about this one?

This got me thinking about the first part of the traditional abo au where they have all those late night convos in their dorm room. I know it was from Bucky’s POV, but just imagine how crushed Buck must’ve felt when Bucky explained what he wants and realizing that it’s not him.

Because I’m avoiding my WIP’s (including part 2 to the traditional abo au😅)… let’s have Buck’s POV of that scene 😈 Terribly unedited as always!

Gale’s not one to let himself hope.

It sets people up for disappointment every time.

Sometimes it sneaks up on you though and that was never more readily apparently to Gale than the night they talked about their dreams for after the war.

“I’ll probably take over my dad’s business after the war,” Bucky started, shifting the topic restlessly. “But I hope I can stay in the sky too somehow.”

Warmth bloomed in Gale’s chest at the way John seemed to get it when it came to flying despite them being only in primary flight training.

“Same,” Gale replied easily, hiding a tired but pleased smile against his hands that he had tucked under his cheek when he rolled over to face John.

“Yeah,” John breathed, a dreamy smile taking over his face as his eyes went a bit distant. “But what I’m most excited about is having someone waiting for me when I get home every day.”

Gale’s breath stalled in his throat at the picture.

John continued, “A nice omega that cooks the best Sunday roast, dotes on our kids so much that it makes them sick with annoyance, looks good on my arm at all the events but is funny enough that I don’t get bored, it’d be nice if they thought I was funny too.”

He paused and Gale knew he was waiting for him to react to the last statement. Gale didn’t know if he could though.

He hadn’t realized just how incompatible they were until it was practically punching him in the face. Gale would never be that type of omega. He forced a scoff out of his throat despite how hard it was to breathe.

“I just want the works that I grew up with y’know?” John mused, that dreamy smile still stretched across his stupidly handsome face. “Can’t wait to have an embroidered kneeling pillow made for them, a custom claiming necklace to solder around their neck, and to have them sit in my lap during poker night with the guys… They’d be so sweet on me and I just can’t wait to love them back.”

Fire scorched down Gale’s throat as he fought down a sad trill.

Shit.

Gale had let himself hope that this stupid, caring, asshole, handsome, oafish, sweet alpha might finally be the one that could love Gale for Gale.

He was a foolish idiot. Gale had read all of it so unbelievably wrong.

Gale hummed to show he had been listening as he let his eyes trace over John’s attractive features. At least he hadn’t fallen in love yet.

It didn’t make it hurt any less though.

There was a tight fist around his burning throat and breathing felt like he was under water.

He swallowed thickly before responding hoarsely “You really liked growing up traditionally.”

“Yeah,” John breathed honestly.

Gale was never going to be what John wanted. Why hadn’t he realized just how much he had started to let himself hope?

He tried to move forward, bull doze past the uncomfortable churning in his belly.

“I think I’d like to have a small cow-calf operation of my own,” Gale admitted quietly. “Definitely some horses, maybe some goats and chickens. Want to finish my degree and get a job designing planes. I just don’t want to have to worry about anything.”

John would apparently never be content with such a life. Gale would never be enough for him.

“No alpha or kids?” John asked and the churning in his belly took a sharp twist he had to fight to not gasp out loud over.

Gale ached to have that. He worried he would be a terrible parent though and feared that no alpha would ever let him just be. John’s dream life with his object of an omega proved that.

“I mean, it’d be nice,” Gale answered slowly, honestly, eyes locked on John, worry choking him as he put the final nail in the coffin of any potential they might have ever had. “But I’d want an alpha that just let me be me and I wouldn’t want to be solely responsible for the kids, I’d want my alpha to be involved too.”

John seemed to chew on that for several beats and Gale fought another sad defeated trill, the burning in his throat creeping up to his eyes as defeat consume him. This is what hope got him, every single time.

“You want to be free,” John whispered, seeming to mull it over even as he said it.

Gale could only nod in response.

#oopsieanswers #mota #clegan #traditional abo au

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kamimarroco · 4 months ago

Text

CW: Sexual assault, sexual abuse, masturbation, fingering, non-con, cumming, first time, blowjob, cunnilingus, psychological trauma.

Since I wrote it directly on Tumblr, I have no idea how many words this story has. Oh well, you can find out for yourself! ;)

"Could you stop squirming so much?", Ren's tone of voice showed slight irritation as he saw you continue to resist, one of his hands holding your back while the other was between your legs.

His claws were digging into your insides painfully, trying to stretch a place in you that had never been touched so explicitly. Not for you, nor for anyone else.

"Stop- Stop it!", you tried to move your body away from his grip, eyes tightly closed as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. "It hurts, it hurts!"

The pain that formed in your core spread throughout your body, agony making your legs move involuntarily, your hands placed on his chest turning into fists, threatening to tear the fabric of his black shirt.

"Shh, shh... Calm down", Ren said calmly and quietly, trying to comfort you with words that in no way lessened your discomfort. They were the equivalent of telling someone with anxiety to stop worrying so much. "It's okay, you just need to relax for me..."

Easier said than done, it wasn't him who was being stretched agonizingly and forcibly, sharp claw tips bruising inner walls, each thrust making you arch your back and contributing to your cheeks becoming wet with a trail of tears.

How the fuck could you relax if he wasn't even helping you?

To be honest, you suspected in the back of your mind that Ren had no problem seeing you like that, writhing and crying in pain, all because of his hand. The bastard wasn't exactly the most moral man in the world, and the control he had over you was more satisfying than anything. In short, your suffering was nothing more than a form of entertainment for the twisted fantasies that inhabited his head.

You just had no way to escape him.

He growled in frustration as he realized you were still tight despite his efforts, his clawed fingers soaked after sliding in and out of your core so many times. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment as he pulled his hand away from you to examine it, your thighs immediately closing together at the opportunity.

"Ah ah, your thighs remain open", despite the sweet tone of his voice, the way he forcibly opened your thighs made you realize that he wasn't joking. The fox boy's patience was probably running thin as he hadn't yet gotten what he wanted. "If my fingers can't do the job, maybe my tongue can".

Panic flooded your system at his statement, your body shaking violently as you shook your head in denial, now doing your best to get away from him. "N-No... Wait wait, you can't do it! You can't-"

He didn't let you finish your sentence, your back hitting the bed as you were shifted into a new position. Your eyes' attention moved from the ceiling to Ren again, seeing him place his head between your thighs, his clawed hands holding them firmly in place so as not to give you the chance to at least preserve what he hadn't yet taken. "Don't you dare interrupt me".

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt something warm and wet enter your core, your back immediately arching and your hips jerking forward, trying to get more of the feeling of being filled up inside so deliciously.

"Stahp-"

Your voice was too weak to try to protest, sweet and soft moans starting to leave your mouth, your legs shaking intensely as did your entire body, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you.

You felt repulsed, not because it was painful, far from it, but because he was genuinely making it enjoyable for you. Instead of writhing in pain like before, you were now writhing for a different reason, waves of pleasure starting to consume your being instead of hellish agony. You felt sick because you weren't supposed to feel these feelings, he wasn't supposed to make you feel good when he was your tormentor, the person who brought you pain and suffering each and every day.

You just remained lying on the bed, your body not even having the slightest energy to try to escape him. And maybe, deep down, you didn't want to. Maybe you wanted to let yourself go for once, not bothering to resist your captor's actions.

You were still human, and you didn't have the ability to fight his authority forever. At some point you would get tired, giving him an opening to finally break through the barriers you firmly put up, even if you didn't want to. Even though you would hate him and yourself for letting something like that happen.

You felt something building inside you, in your core, something that was growing as Ren continued to work his tongue. Your movements became erratic, your mind going haywire as sensations you've never felt before overwhelm your body. You didn't like where all this was going...

"You're close, I can feel it", Ren's speech was muffled due to the position he was in, head between your thighs, naughty sounds able to be heard as his tongue moved in and out of you. You felt his efforts increase drastically, contributing to the countless sensations that were flooding your system, trying to push you to the limit.

Which, by the looks of it, was working out more than well.

You gave one last loud cry as you felt something liquid and in large quantities come out of you, your body instantly feeling the effects of the intense orgasm you were having, your head falling back on the bed. Ren prolonged your experience by continuing to move his tongue even after your release, making sure to swallow every last drop of your juice.

Your body remained convulsing from overstimulation, your voice and all the air inside you having been gone for some time, but somehow returning only for you to continue moaning and panting.

You finally got a chance to rest when Ren pulled away from your intimate flesh, his lips stained with something white that appeared to be viscous. Your blurry vision returned to normal after a while, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you saw his tongue collecting the rest of your cum that was still in his mouth.

"I must confess... I didn't expect you to cum so much!~", his excited tone of voice did nothing but increase the shame that was consuming your body, your mind being prevented from thinking properly before because of the intense wave of pleasure that washed over you.

You felt slightly nervous as you watched Ren bring his face closer to yours, his lips just inches away from kissing you, from making you taste yourself after a session like that.

Having your captor so close to you brought back unpleasant memories, even though this time he hadn't hurt you that much. You just couldn't suppress your instincts when they screamed at you to stay away from this man.

"You know, I think we're still going to have a lot of fun today~", Ren purred softly, his bright golden eyes looking straight into yours, making you feel surrounded in every way, both physically and mentally.

You didn't want to think about what the future held for you.

Note: the author felt dirty

#boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death 2 #btd #btd2 #ren hana #ren btd #btd ren #btd2 ren #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #reader x character #x reader #reader insert

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lizzyk137 · 2 years ago

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Baby's Secret- An Agent Gibbs Fic (Gibbs X Reader)

Description: After keeping your relationship a secret, what will it take for Gibbs to admit your his. Warnings: Mentions of bombings, swearing, hospital, fluff

(Part One) Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

Dinner at Gibbs place was great, and it certainly wasn't food you both were devouring.

The next few months kept you busy with new cases, therapy sessions and at-home date with Gibbs. Gibbs wasn't one to leave his house much when he was home from work. He was stubborn, stating he goes out enough at work that he doesn't need to on his days off, and he stays with that statement no matter how much you try to change his mind.

Now you didn't mind staying home with Gibbs. It was relaxing and brought a calm over you that you needed after a stressful job, plus, some of the activities were very entertaining. But you wanted more.

As time went on, and your relationship stayed a secret from the team, due to Gibbs breaking one of his own rules, you were starting to get irritated that it didn't seem like he wanted people to know about you. On cases he always stayed a far enough distance away from you so no one could assume and reserved to checking on you when you were out of work when you got hurt. He also never expressed how he felt about you. He was a man of few words and you could feel that he cared about you when you were alone but you also know that things could be very much different as they were presented to you. And as good as he made you feel, he also equally was hurting you.

"Where are you going?" He asked six months into your relationship. It was a quiet Sunday morning, and it was gorgeous out, so you thought of going out and enjoying it.

"I'm going to the farmers market with Tim." You had answered back as you grabbed your purse and a reusable bag.

"McGee?" You could hear him getting up from his chair.

You turned around to meet his eyes, "Yes McGee, we always go to the farmers market on our days off."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. We've been doing it for the last year." You laughed.

"Oh." You walked up to him and gave him a peck on the lips, hoping his scowl would wipe away from his face, but it stayed.

"I'll be back in a few hours. See you!"

You didn't realize that day would leave to you two having to expose the very secret Gibbs had hidden for months.

"Y/N, look at this!" McGee was holding up a poster for an old video game.

"Wow, twenty dollars? I don't know if it's a steal or a rip-off." You laughed as he handed you the framed poster and reached into his wallet for cash. He paid the merchant and grabbed the poster back.

"Defiently a steal for me, the starting price online for this is $100. So where to next, Y/N?"

"There is a cute little stall selling plushies that I was eyeing, if that's okay?" He nodded, and let you lead.

You headed over to the stall when you felt a pair of eyes on you in the crowd. You scanned the area but didn't seem to find anyone out of the ordinary. You reached your stall, and you and Tim were checking out the plushies when you felt the same feeling as before on you.

"Tim, I think someone is watching us." You whispered as you held up a small plush bat.

"Really?"

You showed him the plush bat, "Yeah, while we were walking over here and now. No one seems out of the ordinary. I might just be paranoid. What do you think for Abbie?"

He nodded, and you held the bat in your arms. "I'll keep an eye out." You nodded back to him and grabbed a cute orange kitten plush.

"I think I want this!" You smiled up at him, trying to make the air a bit lighter.

His lips morphed into a smile, "Well then, I guess we better get it. It's on me since you bought me coffee."

"Aw, Tim! That's sweet of you, thanks!" You showed the merchant your items and they tallied them up and you both paid. "Alright, I think it's lunch time!"

Tim stood next to you, looking around. "I feel it too. Lets head to another stall, I don't like this feeling of being watched.

"Sure." You took a step forward when you felt and heard a sudden blast behind you. Warm air hit you, shoving your body forwards as you flew through the air, body tumbling as soon as it touched back down to the ground. Wood flew everywhere around you, as you tried to get up to look at the damage, when you felt another blast from another stall besides you as the world grew black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gibbs was frightened. He hadn't been this frightened in a long time. Two of his teammates were lying unconscious in the hospital from some lunatic setting of a bomb and your condition wasn't the greatest as he watched your heart monitor bounce around irregularly.

"Hey, boss." Tony's voice interrupted his thoughts. "McGee just woke up. The doctor is checking him over and once he's done, we can talk to him."

The doctor came out an hour later and let the team know they could go in to see their friend.

"Take your time but what happened, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"Everything was normal until we got to our last stall. Y/N said she felt like someone was watching us but she didn't see anyone, and neither did I. I felt it as we were leaving but it was too late." McGee looked worried as he explained what happened to Gibbs. "I didn't see anyone but if I had just suggested we leave right off then she wouldn't here."

"Hey, nothing could have stopped those bombs from going off." Tony said gently, seeing McGee getting worked up as his heart monitor started beeping louder.

"Bombs? There was more than one? I only remember one of them."

Ziva nodded, "There was two. One at the stall you went too and one that was behind it."

They eventually left McGee after calming him down, and headed back into the waiting room.

"Tony, see what Abby has on the bomb. Ziva, figure out what stalls McGee and Y/L/N visit every week this past year."

"Past year? McGee didn't say anything about the past-"

"Just do it, Ziva!" Gibbs barked out.

"On it."

Gibbs circled around back to your room and watched you lying there. "We'll get them for you. I won't stop until I catch those bastards. Wait for me just a little longer."

Gibbs didn't visit the hospital for the next few days as he stayed up going over every little detail they had and trying to discover new leads. You still had yet to wake up, which fueled him even more to find whoever did this to you.

"Gibbs, I found something." Abby said over the phone.

"I'll be down." He said and ended the call. "Abby has a something, let's go."

The elevators chimed and as he and the team stepped off and into Abby's lab. "Whatcha got, Abs?"

"I found something in the security cameras. The shop that Y/N went to every week was this one here," Abby pulled up the shop's logo on the screen, "it's a small business that sells stuffed animals. She had been eyeing this cat for weeks. With my findings on the surveillance and evidence from the bomb, it looked like whoever made the cat used it as a trigger. Once out of the safe zone, it set off both bombs. The second one was delayed due to the stall being moved slightly during set up." She showed a few slides of the stuffed cat, one that looked similar to her cat that had just past away, and then to a video display of how the bombs worked. "I did some more digging, and found that the maker for these stuffed animals come from a company located just out of D.C."

"We spoke with the shop keepers and they said they draw up the designs and then send them out to a group that then goes around to manufacturers." Tony said.

"Tony, Ziva, go to the factory and interview the workers."

"Wait! I can do you one better." Abby said. "I managed to hack into their surveillance cameras, courtesy of McGee, and found exactly who worked on the stuffed cats for our small business. He goes by the name, James Harrington." Abby hit a key on the keyboard pulling up his James' social media. "It looks like Y/N and him had gone out a few times but about six months ago they haven't communicated or gone out."

"Let's bring him in." Gibbs said through a clenched jaw.

Gibbs was pumped for the interrogation and with a bit of yelling and one slam of the desk, James was putty in his hands. Spilling everything from how you rejected him after a few dates, and that you were always around McGee and he was furious that you could be with anyone but him.

"She always was with him. It was disgusting to watch them together every Sunday. I had to teach her boyfriend a lesson." James spat.

Gibbs eyes narrowed at the word boyfriend. "Well lucky for you, her boyfriend gets to ruin your life. Have fun in prison, while I get to continue dating her." He got up and slammed the interrogation room door closed and headed straight to the hospital, ignoring the shocked looks from Ziva and Tony.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gibbs pulled your hand closer to him and rested his cheek on it as he clasped it in his. Ever since he got the confession out of James, he had been by your side waiting for you to wake up.

Ziva, Tony and McGee watched from the door way, Gibbs oblivious to the three of them watching which was very much unlike him.

"I can't believe they're dating. How did we miss this?" Ziva whispered.

"What I wanna know is how." McGee answered back.

Tony chuckled, "I bet it was after they went 50 Shades of Grey during that undercover mission."

"Do you think they've been together that long?" Ziva questioned. "That was like half a year ago."

"It explains why Gibbs avoids her during cases."

"But why keep it a secret?" McGee asked.

"Maybe it's because they're happy with just each other." Tony replied, watching Gibbs gently kiss your forehead.

Gibbs watched as you slept peacefully. You looked like an angel, to him you always did, but especially now because you looked so peaceful. You were always peaceful when you slept. He could watch you for hours, running his fingers through your hair as you cuddled into him, your head on his chest.

He closed his eyes, feeling days worth of no sleep catching up to him.

"Jethro?" He thought it was your voice, but how could it be? You've been unconscious for the past week.

"Jethro?" The voice was clearing up and it definitely sounded like you. But it had to be a dream, he thought.

"Jethro!" Your voice was much louder this time, enough that Gibbs' head sprang up off the mattress and his eyes opened to meet yours.

"Y/N?" Gibbs said shakily.

You were sitting up, your hand still in his, with a big smile on your face. "You've been asleep for a few hours, you're quite cute when you're sleeping." You giggled.

Gibbs looked at you in disbelief for a second before he crushed you to his chest, holding you tightly. "Don't you ever leave me like that again." He whispered. "From now on, anywhere you want to go I'll follow. I can't lose you."

You pulled him away and cupped his cheek. "Are you okay with that?"

"This whole thing has made me realized how much I care for you. I'm not letting you walk out that door again, especially when you want me there."

He watched you smile, cupped the back of your head and placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

"No more hiding?"

"No more hiding."

Taglist:

@crimeshowjunkie

@slxmw

So sorry this took forever! So many things in my life popped up half way through writing this! The second half of this doesn't do the story line justice. Let me know what you think down below!!

#yjethro gibbs x reader #ncis gibbs #jethro gibbs #gibbs #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis fandom #ncis #gibbs x reader

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sharpth1ng · 10 months ago

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So, i was rereading Debaser, and the first time Stu fucked Billy, Billy says “you’re not going to fuck Tatum again”. Did he just not think about the fact that his guy was screwing someone else? Why did he say that THEN and not before? I ask because, with how jealous Billy always has been, i wouldve thought that he’d be murderous at the mere idea of Stu fucking around with someone other than himself. Like- Billy got a whole ass gf just bc he was mad that Stu lost his virginity. So like?? Why then and not before, why not when he started fucking Stu? 😭⁉️

The way I thought about this line it’s not really a command, it’s more a statement of celebration. It’s Billy remembering he’s killing Tatum the next day, and he’s not going to have to deal with her and Stu anymore. It’s also him making a verbal claim, like it’s almost dirty talk, he’s basically saying “you’re mine”.

Billy told Stu to date Tatum as a cover, but what he doesn’t say out loud is that it’s partly a cover for his relationship with Stu. Like yeah, it’s also because it looks better for Stu if he’s already moved on from Casey but also Billy tells him to start dating her right when things start to change between them. He’s paranoid about getting found out.

So yeah he’s definitely jealous, definitely aware that Stu and Tatum are fucking- he mentions it a few times even, like when he’s alone in his room after they kill Casey and Steve. But he sees Tatum as a necessity, and he’s aware of the fact that with Stu’s reputation it would look weird if he wasn’t having sex with his girlfriend.

So yeah, he’s been jealous all along but in this case he’s not mad at Stu because Stu’s just following his orders. Stu’s willing to let Billy kill Tatum, so she doesn’t really represent a credible threat to Billy. Stu might be fucking her but he’s still putting Billy first.

As his relationship with Stu has grown it’s gotten harder to put up with Tatum for the sake of the plan. So when Billy says “you’re not going to fuck Tatum again” it’s like when you quit a job and have that moment of excitement realizing you never have to show up for a shift again. He’s telling Stu explicitly how he feels. It’s a statement of desire as much as it’s a statement of possessiveness.

#damn that was a long explanation sorry #Billy rarely says exactly what he means #stuilly #debaser fanfic #debaser spoilers #ask

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sweetkpopmusings · 2 years ago

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minho coworker headcanons <3

a/n: how could i ever even describe how fond i am of minho ?? he is so silly and weird and i'd protect him at all costs <333 as my job has been less than desirable for a long time, these coworkers hcs bring me soooo much comfort, and i hope they provide the same kind of serotonin for you !! pics not mine~

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none! | pairing: coworker!minho x gn!reader | requests: open

almost everyone in the office is scared of him

you two never crossed paths because you work in different departments, so the only things you knew about him were what coworkers told you

the first time you saw him was when you went into a quiet place in the office to watch some videos and take a mental break from work

he was hiding in that very place because he had been reprimanded by his supervisor for a project (his partner on it was the one who dropped the ball but just so happened to be “sick” that day) and minho needed to collect himself before going back to his desk

that’s how you caught the scariest guy in the office looking at pictures of his beloved cats

when he noticed you, he tried to play it cool and act annoyed, but you saw the tips of his ears turn red as he realized you saw him being super soft for his precious cats

reading the room, you asked “rough day?” and the genuine concern in your voice completely melted minho’s scary facade away

he scoffed, rolled his eyes, and answered “yeah. gotta love being someone else’s fall guy”

that sparked a conversation that included him showing off his cats to you, and you showing him the silly little videos you were watching to boost your mood

slowly but surely, minho would seek you out whenever he wanted a friendly conversation

you were the only person in the office he didn’t try to intimidate, and everyone else was in complete awe of this

especially when they saw you two doing word/logic puzzles at work during your breaks

he even bought one of those massive puzzle books so you two could use it

whenever your lunches didn’t line up, you’d leave each other teasing and/or encouraging notes in the margins of the pages

that book became a conversational record between you two

he’d never admit it, but, sometimes, when minho was feeling sentimental, he’d look through old pages and laugh at how your notes got more and more ridiculous as you two got more and more comfortable with each other :,-)

you become the minho translator because you just know him so well uwu

like if you two are sitting together during a coffee break and a coworker asks about weekend plans, minho would give a vague answer about interdimensional travel

before your coworker’s brain goes into overdrive trying to decode the statement, you’d explain, “he’s going to the animated film festival this weekend”

your coworker nods and silently leaves after getting their coffee, completely unaware of the snort minho let out at your translation

minho, despite befriending you, does not let go of his scary persona

in fact, because he’s so fond of you, he’ll use it to protect you

if someone bad mouths your quality of work or makes a snide remark about you in general, minho responds in a way that gives them nightmares for weeks

he never tells you that he does that, but you do catch him smirking whenever one of the perpetrators is nicer to you in the office >:-)

he’s super supportive of you at work too !!

he’s your number one advocate when it comes to asking for a raise, applying for a promotion, etc.

minho thinks you deserve the best, and he’ll fight tooth and nail himself to get that for you, even though he knows you are more than capable of achieving greatness yourself

he thinks so highly of your skills and talent, and he wants to make sure you recognize your own potential <3

if he’s feeling insecure or down because of work or poor interactions with coworkers, he’ll turn to you for support, even if he doesn’t directly admit that something’s bothering him

he could make a joke like “ah, how’re you going to solve this crossword if i get fired?”

obviously, you’d know exactly what he means by that and say “if you’re getting fired, i’m quitting because firing such a smart and competent employee is a major red flag”

he’d tease, “wow, you’re really dedicated to crossword puzzles”

you’d nod, and he’d smile softly because he knew that you were always going to be his rock at work, and he’s eternally grateful for that

minho is so selective with the people he lets close to him, and, since you passed the test, he wants you two to be close outside of the office too

it takes him a while to work up the courage to invite you to hangout after work

but, when he’s throwing a casual dinner party with his friends, he knows it’s the perfect time to see each other without being bound by work schedules

you of course accept his invitation, but you also admit you’re a little nervous to meet all his friends

minho reassures you by telling you that he, a perfect and extremely cool person, has curated an impeccable group of people, so you have nothing to be worried about

and he’s totally right because all of his friends are not only super funny and kind, but they also love you !!!

and, more importantly, soonie, doongie, and dori love you <3333

every single one of his friends exposes minho for talking about you constantly lmao

minho gives them death glares but they refuse to miss out on the opportunity to tease him <3

especially chan because he thinks it’s so cute that minho is trying to act cool to impress you <3

by the end of the night, minho’s smiling ear to ear because you mesh so well with his friend group :,,,,-)

you two reference funny moments from the dinner party the next time you meet at work, and you’re both just bubbling with happiness because you can’t believe how lucky you are to have met each other by chance in a quiet corner of the office on a random afternoon <333

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intheticklecloset · 1 year ago

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Spirit of the Season (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Primary Universe

Summary: Atsushi stumbles upon Akutagawa while he's out Christmas shopping for his sister and decides to help him get back into the right mindset for the job.

A/N: I wanted a Shin Soukoku Christmas fic really bad, so I wrote one. Tada! This is fic #3 of 4. Enjoy! <3

Word Count: 1,377

~~~

“Can I not walk the streets of Yokohama without running into you of all annoying people?”

The way Akutagawa slowly turned his head to give a wide-eyed glare to Atsushi made sneaking up on him and delivering that line totally worth it. The weretiger bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud at the expression.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he managed after a moment, pulling himself together. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

Akutagawa blinked at him, then turned his gaze back to the dark, glittering ocean and clear, starry sky above. “Christmas shopping.”

“Really?” Atsushi glanced around, making a show of not seeing anything at all except the scenic overlook they stood on. “I didn’t know there were shops this far away from the street.”

“Quit being a smart aleck,” the darker man snapped. “I’m reconsidering my approach.”

“To Christmas shopping?” Atsushi couldn’t keep the humor from his voice, then frowned as he realized his rival was being serious. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Who…um. Who are you buying for?”

“My sister.” The ‘who else?’ was implied.

“Oh, right. Well…what’s the problem?”

Akutagawa didn’t answer right away. Atsushi took the opportunity to admire the view the mafia executive had sought to use as inspiration. It really was beautiful out tonight. It was cold but not freezing – just enough for them to see their breaths puff out before them. The stars were shining, there were colorful lights all over the city, and a kind of uneasy calm settled between him and the man who’d sworn to kill him one day. Under literally any other circumstances, Atsushi might find it almost romantic.

He shook that thought right out of his head.

“Gin has grown to be a very beautiful young woman. I’m not sure how to buy for someone like that.”

The bluntness of the statement surprised the weretiger. “She’s still your sister, though, isn’t she?”

Akutagawa let out a heavy sigh, turned on his heel, and leaned against the railing of the overlook, shooting a weary glance at the detective. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Lately she has been seeking ways to feel more feminine in her off time. She never used to. Buying gifts for her has always been easy because she’s an assassin, and I know what assassins like in their arsenal. Especially hers.” The mafia executive blew out a huff of air and looked to the sky. “Now I feel the need to encourage her on this new path, yet…I don’t know how. I know nothing about women or what they like.”

Atsushi took a moment to digest the fact that Akutagawa was speaking to him so openly about his family. “Maybe jewelry?”

“My first thought as well. Yet what I get her should be practical. There’s no use buying her diamonds when she spends most of her time fighting and would never wear it.”

“Right.”

There was silence for a moment before Akutagawa asked, “What would you get Kyouka?”

Atsushi hummed thoughtfully. “Well…I guess I don’t know. She’s younger than your sister, so I’m pretty sure she’d still like stuffed animals and things like that. Maybe. It’s a little different.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

The detective glanced at his rival, observing how genuinely contemplative and serious he looked. It was clear that he wanted to do something special for his sister, and that warmed Atsushi’s heart on her behalf. He leaned against the railing as well. “You’ll figure it out. Try not to worry so much.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you! I’m telling you you’ve got this. It would probably help you to cheer up a little bit, though. I find it hard to go Christmas shopping when I’m in a bad mood.”

Akutagawa rolled his eyes. “I’m not in a bad mood. I’m trying to take this seriously, weretiger.”

“You can take things seriously and still smile about it,” Atsushi replied, feeling emboldened by the moment they’d just shared without trying to kill each other for once. He reached over and poked the darker man’s ribs.

Akutagawa gasped sharply and jolted away, suddenly standing up straight and glaring full force. “Do not even think about it.”

“It’s not like you can hide it from me now.” The detective flashed him a little smirk. “I know you’re ticklish. You can’t take that away from me.”

The way Akutagawa’s cheeks blossomed red at the accusation surprised Atsushi into silence. Thankfully that stillness also afforded him the sharp perception he needed to realize the man was lunging at him, one fist drawn back and ready to strike.

Atsushi ducked under his punch and grabbed onto his sides, squeezing hard. “Gotcha!”

Akutagawa sputtered and grabbed a fistful of the weretiger’s hair just before he was lifted off his feet and thrown unceremoniously over Atsushi’s shoulder, fingers still wiggling in his sides and forcing deep, raspy giggles from him that he would deny until the end of time.

“This ought to get you into the Christmas shopping spirit, Akutagawa!” the detective giggled along with him, pinching and digging and squeezing in quick succession, enjoying every yelp and squeal and kick he got for his efforts. “Tickle, tickle!”

“Put – puhuhuhut me down! Weretihihihiger!” Akutagawa demanded through growling chuckles, pounding a fist on his captor’s back, kicking his legs to try and throw him off-balance.

Atsushi laughed. “Aww, someone’s a little too ticklish, huh? Quit squirming! I want to get to your ribs. That was a good spot last time.”

“Dohohohon’t you dahahare!” Akutagawa barely had time to voice the protest before those tickling fingers wiggled their way up to his lowest ribs, making him choke on his words and bark out a loud laugh before he could manage to slap a hand over his mouth, kicking even more wildly now. “Off! Gehehehehet off!”

“You’re the one over my shoulder, remember?”

“Puhuhuhuhut me dohohohown! I swehehehehear – weretiger! No, dohon’t – quit thahahahat!”

“What’s that? Don’t quit?” Atsushi finally managed to get his fingers into the groove between Akutagawa’s bottom ribs, more than a little satisfied when the man froze in his efforts to escape, laughter bursting out of him beyond his control at the tiniest hint of pressure. “There we go. Does it tickle bad here, Akutagawa?”

“WERETIGER!!” The mafia executive’s tone had shifted into something resembling pleading now, his fist pounding weaker against Atsushi’s back, turning more into a kind of tapping out gesture. “STOHOHOHOHOHOP!!”

Atsushi decided he’d probably pushed his luck enough for one day and relented, gently setting Akutagawa back on his feet. Akutagawa immediately shoved away from him, arms curling across his torso as he dissolved into a coughing fit.

It was only then that the weretiger realized he wasn’t just coughing to cover up any leftover giggles, as he’d suspected the first time. He’d genuinely had trouble breathing being tickled like that, and with his condition…

Before he could begin to feel badly about it, Akutagawa straightened again and clenched his fists, glaring daggers at him. A beat passed, then he thrust his hands into his coat pockets and started walking, brushing past Atsushi without a word, and the detective was positive this particular interaction was over.

But then Akutagawa stopped in his tracks and muttered over his shoulder, “You can follow if you want.”

Atsushi couldn’t hide the way those words made him beam from ear to ear if he wanted to.

By the time the night was over and they parted ways, Atsushi got to witness one more holiday miracle besides actually having a civil conversation with Akutagawa and getting to tickle him without dying afterward. In the third shop they visited, he watched as Akutagawa’s eyes suddenly lit up and he went straight for a simple pendant with a violet dragon etched into it – something that seemed very fitting for Gin, even to Atsushi.

It was jewelry, but practical. Something that could be worn under her work clothes without fear of shattering at the tiniest movement.

Akutagawa was satisfied, and Atsushi was happy to have been able to help – even if that help was simply getting his rival back into the spirit of the season with something as straightforward as a little laughter.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #bungo stray dogs #bsd #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke #shin soukoku #sskk #holiday fic #christmas fic #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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quixoticall · 1 year ago

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This Could Get Ugly Track 3: The Upside Down Tour

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, some minor panic attacks, mention of serious illness and subsequent treatment (poor ill Will)

A/N: Hello! I want to say thank you to all of you for the lovely feedback! I know it's been a minute, but I've been extra busy because I had family visiting for the holiday! But we're back to regularly scheduled programming!

wc: 7.8k

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***

ARGYLE: The first day of tour was always like the first day of school and summer camp and vacation all put together but that very first tour was all of that times a thousand.

They had these buses that had the name of the band on one side and our faces on the other, man, like huge Argyle and Eddie and Nancy and everyone else, it was crazy. Jonathan bought his camera and he took photos of all of us next to our giant selves as the crew was loading up. I sent mine to my mom.

It was all good vibes at the beginning, everyone was so excited. Hopper even brought his kid. We didn’t know Hopper had a kid before that. We didn’t know a lot about Hopper, actually. But it was nice to have the kid around, kept us all on our best behaviors, well during the day anyway.

***

February 1984, On the Road: Upside Down Tour

“There’s no way my jaw is that crooked, Robin come look at the angle of Big Steve's jaw, will ya?”

“Shut up, Steve, Jonathan’s taking my picture with Big Robin, have someone else measure the angle of your jaw!”

Steve turns imploringly to you and you can’t help but indulge him.

“Your jaw looks fine, Steve, very symmetrical.”

“Eddie, man, if you stand right there, and kinda lean this way, it looks like you’re eating yourself!”

“Ah, that’s sick, Byers come here and take a picture of me eating myself when you’re done with Buckley!”

“Hey, no fair, we were next!”

“Worry about fixing your crooked jaw first, man.”

“You said my jaw looked fine,” Steve turned towards you, accusingly.

“Hmmm, let me take a closer look,” you say, teasingly taking Steve’s face in your hands and making a big show of moving your gaze between the giant, two-dimensional Steve and the real Steve in front of you. You tilt his head one way, and then the next a few times over, pretending to be deep in thought.

“It looks fine,” you finally say, “no more crooked than the real thing.”

You punctuate your statement with a light tap on his cheek and he grins at you before coming to a realization.

“Are you saying my jaw is crooked?”

He chases you around the tour buses until you are both out of breath and then when Jonathan comes up to you, camera in hand, and the two of you pose stop to strike a pose that mirrors your giant selves, turned towards in each other, lips slightly pursed, as if preparing for a kiss. That kiss of course, never comes.

Things have been like this between you and Steve since the press tour, warmer, affectionate even, but with the understanding that there was no deeper meaning behind the affection. You were simply doing your job.

When Hopper is finally able to wrangle everyone onto their respective busses, you are already behind schedule. His threats don’t have their usual impact though, because even he’s been infected with the band’s giddiness at being on the road.

You think you even see him smile when he introduces his daughter, a soft-spoken girl named Jane who immediately asks everyone to call her El and looks about 15.

Something about Hopper feeling comfortable enough to have his daughter join the tour made you feel like there was a huge responsibility on your shoulders to be a good role model—a feeling you’d never really had before.

There was a lot about being on tour that was strange and foreign in a way that was specific to you, like bunking with Nancy and Robin on the tour bus.

“It’ll be like a slumber party!” Robin exclaimed. You could see Nancy’s eyes go wide behind her at this, almost as if she’s questioning what she’s gotten herself into.

“I’ve never been to a slumber party,” you tell them, unsure if your reaction should be more like Robin’s or Nancy’s.

“Well, we are honored to be your first,” Robin says as she bounces off her bunk to sit next to you, looping an arm through yours and leaning her head on your shoulder.

***

EDDIE: The first stop of the tour was San Francisco—we got there two days before the show and checked into a hotel that was nice as fuck—well, compared to what I was used to, anyways— and they gave us all our own rooms down the hall from one another. I remember asking Wheeler if that was what college was like and she just laughed and said, “Kinda, but it smelled way worse.”

Everyone was so happy to be there, even me. It was a far cry from Corroded Coffin, sure. But at the end of the day, I was making music and even though I wasn’t really that close to the rest of the band, they were good people. Everyone respected each other and partied just the right amount. Wheeler did a good job of keeping us in line. Plus, we were still so wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, we hadn’t really fallen into our new old habits by then.

***

Once in the hotel, Hopper handed out room assignments and he even looking a bit apologetic when he lets you and Steve know that, at label’s request, you and Steve were assigned connecting rooms.

You didn’t have it in you to let the fact that Starcourt was controlling where you slept get to you and instead decide to try an enjoy where you are.

Nancy, who was as much of an older sister to the group as she was to her real family, had organized an evening of sightseeing for the band around the city during your first night there.

Walking through downtown, you had a hard time taking in the sites because you were too preoccupied watching Eddie. Eddie, who, from what little you knew of his past, never had the opportunity to travel, was like a child, taking in the sights, pointing to anything of interest, and excitedly exclaiming, “Can you believe that shit?” to anyone within earshot, including El and Hopper.

“You watch your mouth around my fucking kid, Munson,” Hopper had told him.

The entire drive to the Golden Gate Bridge he just kept saying “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” like he could genuinely not contain his excitement.

It was oddly endearing.

***

EDDIE: I know you know how fucking awesome the GGB is.

***

February 4th, 1984, San Francisco, CA. The Upside Down Tour

The same lighthearted energy carried over to the next day’s soundcheck and until a few hours before the show when a cloud of nervous energy seemed to descend all at once.

The entire time you were in hair and makeup all you could think about was all the different ways the show could go wrong. Were you prepared enough? What if the audience was a dud? Could you keep them entertained for two hours? Each question wound you tighter and tighter until you could not think straight and by the time you were set to go backstage you had half-convinced yourself to call it all off. But you immediately sobered at the sight of the madness that had overtaken your bandmates backstage: Robin was pacing from one corner to the next, wringing her hands and muttering to herself in a language you weren’t completely sure was English; Jonathan and Nancy sat huddled together on the floor while Nancy recited the setlist over and over again like a prayer; Argyle was sitting by himself in a corner, tapping his drumsticks erratically against his knees with one hand while trying to braid his hair with the other; Eddie stood utterly stock still hold his guitar in front of him in an outstretched hand, talking to it like they were having a conversation; and worst of all, Steve was nowhere to be found. You looked around for Hopper, but he was also missing, so you went to the next best thing.

“Nancy, babe, look at me,” you say, kneeling next to her on the ground.

Her eyes bounce up to yours and in them, panic.

“Nancy,” you repeat her name again in a way that you hope is calming, “I know that you’re nervous, but I need you right now. Look around at the mess that everyone’s in. I need you to help me talk them down. I need you to make them believe it’s going to be fine. I need you to believe it’s going to be fine, okay? Because it will be. And because I can’t find Steve.” You say the last part low, in a meek attempt to mask the panic that is seeping into your tone.

Nancy, who, as you had predicted, flourished in a crisis, hardens her jaw and narrows her eyes in focus.

“I’ll start with Jonathan and you go to Eddie, maybe we can get them to help us look for Steve in the bathrooms.”

You nod eagerly before making your way over to Eddie, who is still mid-conversation with his guitar. You approach slowly, careful not to spook him.

“Hey, hello, I don’t mean to interrupt, but are you doing okay, Eddie?”

Eddie’s eyes snap to you like it’s the first time he’s noticed you were there.

“Who? Us? Yup, totally fine, just having a bit of a pep talk,” he says between haggard breaths. Where the hell is Hopper?

“Hm, yeah, see, the words that you’re saying and the way that you’re saying them lead me to believe that maybe you’re not fine,” you try to sound as gentle as you can when you say this and try not to flinch as Eddie turns to face you, his whole face taunt with fear.

“Well, it’s not like I’m not a total fraud and loser who completely blew it with his last band and is only part of this band because he sold his soul to an evil corporation that told the rest of you you had to let him play with you, right? Because then I would have reason to be nervous. Oh, wait—"

“Eddie,” you interrupt, reaching up to grasp his face in your hands, bringing him down to your eye level, “you’re being too hard on yourself right now, okay? You have earned your spot here just as much as anyone else in the band. You’re a great guitarist, and a great songwriter—almost as good as me—“ he lets out a breathless laugh”— and you’re gonna go on that stage tonight and be your usual talented self and blow their minds because you’re Eddie Fucking Munson, got it?”

“Got it,” he whispers, eyes blown wide, and at that moment you realize that you’re so close now your nose almost brushes up against his.

“Good,” you say, pealing your hands away from his face to fall at your sides.

“Now, do you want to do some deep breaths or do you think you’re good to go on?”

“I think I’m good,” he croaks out, still a bit out of focus, but much more mellow.

“Great. Now, can you please help us look for Steve? We can’t find him.”

“Steve?” Eddie repeats, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, we can’t find him anywhere and everyone’s freaking out and Hopper’s not here either so Nancy and I were hoping you could help us by checking the bathrooms.”

“Right, Harrington, your boyfriend. The bathrooms, I’ll go check.”

You watch as he turns away and heads in the direction of the bathroom and try not to think about the way his shoulders dropped, the tiniest amount as he did.

Then, you turn your attention to the still-pacing Robin. “Robin, honey, can you please look at me?”

***

EDDIE: It was 20 minutes until the doors opened and Harrington was nowhere to be found. Jonathan and I checked all the bathrooms in the building and nothing. Finally, I got the bright idea to go out to the smoking area, not sure why, but, to my surprise there he was. I’m not going to lie, he looked a total mess: pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair, muttering to himself.

I asked him what the hell he was doing there. He asked if he could bum a cigarette. I said, “Didn’t know you smoked, Harrington.”

And he responded, “I don’t but the smell reminds me of my mom.”

That’s when I knew the situation was grim—if someone shares information like that about a parent, unprovoked, they’re probably losing it. It was also at that point that I knew I was totally out of my depth. I had half a mind to turn around and go grab one of the girls or Jonathan, but I didn’t want him to run off on me again.

INTERVIEWER: So, what did you do?

EDDIE: I stayed and let him bum a cigarette. We stood there for a minute, smoking. The guy was coughing up a storm but he kept going. Harrington was always like that—just kept going no matter what. Eventually I just straight up asked him if he was nervous.

He responded with, “Theoretically, I’m not nervous at all, but in a much more, like real sense, I am shitting it, man.”

To this day, I don’t think he knows what the word ‘theoretical’ means.

I asked him what he had to be nervous about, it was just a show, and he was half of the reason people were there to see us, plus he was too talented to bomb.

And then he looked at me with his big Harrington eyes and said, “I’m not worried about bombing I’m worried about everything else. Like, what if we get up there and we realize that everything we’ve given up, everything we’ve had to go through was for something mediocre and ordinary?”

I told him that was a stupid question and asked him what if it was the opposite. What if it was everything he had wanted? I mean he was halfway there already, right? He had the girl, the sold-out tour, it was only a matter of time before he had everything else he could’ve dreamed of.

I thought I was being comforting but that only made him freak out more because then he said, “The more you have, the more you can lose and I don’t think I could handle losing any of this.”

It took me a minute to respond because, I mean, on one hand, it was hard to sympathize with the guy who had everything I wanted and then some. On the other hand, though, I had been there.

So, I told him about Chrissy and rehab and Corroded Coffin and that whole shit show. Like a testimonial: “Local Fuck Up, Loses everything and somehow still keeps going!” I didn’t hold back either, I told him how much it sucked to fall so far on your own. I also told him that unlike me, he would never have to worry about that because he actually did have people looking out for him. That whole band was like his team, they wouldn’t let him fall like that, at least, not alone.

Something I said must’ve resonated because he snapped out of it after that. We finished our cigarettes and we went inside. Right on time too, because Hopper was about to send out a manhunt for him.

***

There were 10 minutes until the doors opened and Steve was still missing, and now, Eddie was gone too. Your mind flits to the possibility that you’ll have to go one without both of your key guitarists but even just the thought of that is too much to stomach.

Meanwhile, Hopper is back and yelling at everyone in the vicinity.

Robin, who’s at your side as the entire scene unfold, pulls in closer to whisper in your ear, “what if they ran away together?”

And just as you were getting ready to turn and ask her exactly what had possessed her to ask such a thing the two missing members of your band burst through the door harried, out of breath, and smelling of smoke, to come face-to-face with their furious manager.

Hopper dismisses Eddie with a wave of his hand and then turns his ire towards Steve.

“Thank you,” you whisper to Eddie as he makes his way to your side. You reach down and give his hand an appreciative squeeze for good measure.

“No problem,” he responds thickly, “couldn’t leave a queen without her king.” Something about his tone makes you wince.

After Steve had been properly chastised by Hopper, the stage manager calls for places and everyone begins to disperse.

You’re making your way towards the stage when Steve reaches out for your hand. “Hey, sorry about that,” he starts, “nerves got to me, I guess.”

“ You know you could’ve talked to us, right? We were all nervous, too. We could’ve been nervous together. We’re supposed to be a team, aren’t we?”

Steve looks more ashamed now than he did when Hopper was yelling at him.

“You’re right,” he says, “I promise to do better. You’ve got me and I’ve got you.”

You smile back.

“I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

And suddenly, the curtain rises.

***

ARGYLE: That night in San Fran we were a mess but then, you get us all on stage and it’s like none of that ever mattered. We were freaking rock stars, dude, and we were good too and I’m not just saying that because it was us— I would’ve been a fan even if I wasn’t in the band.

EDDIE: Yeah, we were all good, but what really brought people through the door was our lead singers. Them bouncing around on stage together, dancing and making eyes at each other—the audience loved it. They both knew how to play up to a crowd too. She would dance and move around the stage like a total natural—hot but not too hot, ya know? And Harrington had his cool guy act down pat. They were in total sync. It was like they belonged together.

***

Walking down the stage steps, your head was abuzz with the excitement and satisfaction.

The band had done a great job, even better than during rehearsal and the audience’s energy was addicting.

This had been what you were looking for all along.

Backstage, you had made sure to give each one of them a hug, even Hopper— as a congratulation, as a thank you, as an expression of disbelief that you were finally here. They all understood and they all returned the sentiment. For the first time it felt that you were all on equal footing as members of the band. For the first time, it felt like you belonged and that was worth celebrating.

Eddie’s the last one off stage, and for a moment you debate hugging him. You’re not too sure if he’d return the gesture, given your history. But to your surprise, his arms are already open and you fall into them. And then, he did something surprises you even further: he pulled you close, picks you up, and spins you around in his arms.

***

ARGYLE: I’m pretty sure he smelled her hair before putting her down.

***

February 28th, 1984, New Orleans, LA. The Upside Down Tour

A few weeks into the tour, Hopper pulls you and Eddie one morning while the rest of the band is off exploring the French Quarter.

“Hopper, can you do us a favor and let us know how long this’ll take? We’re supposed to get beg-nets with the gang today.”

“It’s pronounced ben-yays, Eddie,” you correct automatically as the two of you are ushered into the hotel room that doubled as your manager’s temporary office.

“Whatever it’s called, it’s fried dough with sugar and I refuse to miss that.”

“Can you two just sit down?” Hopper says exasperatedly motioning you two towards a couple of chairs that crowded his small, makeshift desk before sitting down himself and reaching for the phone.

“I got them both here, Murray,” Hopper says gruffly as the crackle of the speakers fills the room.

Before Murray can fully greet you on the other line, Eddie interrupts.

“Are we in trouble?”

“No. Should you be, Munson?“

“Murray, can we hurry this along? I’m taking my kid on a ghost tour.”

“Fine, fine, listen, kids, I just heard from Brenner and the Big Wigs—the rest of the tour is completely sold out which means that they want to start recording about five weeks after you get back from touring. This means we need songs by then and since you two wrote the best song on the last album, you’ve been promoted (with no pay) to main songwriters. So your homework is to get us at least 20 passable songs by the first week of July.”

“But we get back from tour in mid-June, Murray, that’s a really short turnaround time, don’t you think?” Your eyes dart to the other two in the room, to gauge their reactions.

Hopper shrugs, “Sometimes that’s just the way it is, kid.”

“Which is exactly why you two should start writing now while you’re on the road, trust me,” Murray’s voice crackles over the line.

You look at Eddie, who cocks an eyebrow at you as if he’s letting you know that it’s your call.

“Okay, we’ll start writing as soon as possible,” you speak out loud.

“That’s what I like to hear! We can check back in once you get to LA.”

The three of you say your goodbyes and Hopper dismisses you and Eddie to join the others.

As the two of you walk down the hall towards the elevators, your mind is already bubbling over with ideas. This was your first big shot to do exactly what you’ve always wanted to do. This was more than just writing a few songs, it was about creating an album, and an image of where the band was going. This was huge.

***

EDDIE: To be honest I never really thought about my writing process. I would just pull out a notebook and a pen and start writing when I had something I thought was good—little bits here and there. She took everything so seriously though. The entire elevator ride down, she was talking my ear off about concepts and inspiration and “sonic vision”. Eventually, I just had to say, “Listen, why don’t we meet up in your hotel room after the show tonight and talk about it then?”

***

The rest of the day, it was like only part of your mind was present. The rest was floating around, thinking about what you wanted to write.

Of course, you had plenty of things written, but you weren’t sure if any of that would work. The next album needed to meet the rising momentum of the band’s popularity: it needed to be current but also true to where you were as a band. You needed to say the right things—and most importantly, you needed to say them in the right way.

Before you knew it, you were back in the hotel after soundcheck, freshly showered, standing in the threshold that connected Steve’s room to yours.

“Are you sure that’s how it’s pronounced?” Steve's voice echoed from his bathroom, where he was brushing his teeth.

“I swear to you that it’s not pronounced Ee-too-fee, Steve. Why do you think the waiter laughed when you ordered?”

You come up behind him in the mirror running a brush through your still-wet hair.

“Because I’m naturally endearing and everything I say is charming,” he responds, catching your eye in the mirror.

“Whatever you say, Harrington.”

Before he can retort, a knock thunders through your room into his.

“Oh, that must be Eddie,” you say, turning on your heel to cross the threshold into your room.

“Munson?” Steve asks, befuddled.

“Yeah, he’s coming over to start writing some stuff. Murray’s on our case, remember?”

“Right, I just didn’t think you’d start tonight.”

You just shrug before disappearing into your room, “The sooner we get started, the sooner we finish.”

You don’t hear his response because you’re already at your door, swinging it open to reveal Eddie Munson standing in the hotel hallway, guitar case in one hand and beat-up notebook in the other.

“The Eagles?” He asked, eyeing the logon on the oversized t-shirt you wore.

You bristle as your fingers brush against your shirt suddenly self-conscious of the length.

His gaze follows the movement of your hand and then settles right where the hem of your shirt grazes your thigh.

It takes you a moment to find your voice. “What can I say? I’m a woman of taste.”

***

EDDIE: I became an Eagles fan after that night.

***

You lead Eddie into your hotel room and gesture towards the small sofa in the corner for him to set his things down.

Before joining him, you peek into Steve’s room to see him fully peering through the door. “Night, Steve,” you say with a gentle wave as you move to close the door.

“Night,” he says back softly, his eyes bouncing from your face to the room behind you where Eddie was setting up his things.

“Night, Munson,” he says finally, voice a bit tighter.

“Goodnight Sweet Prince,” Eddie waves theatrically as you close the door between the two rooms and walk over to sit by his side.

“You two always leave the door open?” he asks, fiddling with his guitar strings.

The question makes you feel defensive.

“Um, no, not always, we just, say goodnight, sometimes we will talk about the shows a bit before. bed.”

Eddie quips an eyebrow at this but says nothing.

“Should we get started then?”

***

EDDIE: That was my first time writing with her. That was my first time writing with anyone else, honestly. She asked me a lot of questions: about what themes I wanted to include; what concepts I thought would fit; if I had seen any movies that I thought could be good inspiration. It felt like a job interview.

I could tell that she’d been thinking a lot about this, maybe too much, actually. So, I told her that maybe we just needed to slow down a little bit, talk about what we had first, and then go from there. She agreed, but she still seemed pretty wound up, so I suggested we bust open the mini bar and we drank for a bit. I think we were both a little nervous to share our songs. It’s something kinda personal, to share your art with someone, ya know? And it’s always worse when it’s someone you know in your regular life—it’s like someone slices you open and takes a walk around your brain but then you have to see them the next day at work or whatever and you have to pretend they haven’t just taken a tour of the best and worst parts of you.

And it wasn’t like we were particularly close back then, so there was some extra nerves there. Hence, the liquid courage.

***

You and Eddie are about two (maybe three?) shooters in by the time you decide to get properly started.

Eddie volunteers his work for the two of you to go through first and you’re secretly grateful as he hands you his beat-up spiral notebook and you splay it across your lap to read over what he has. Eddie leans in to read too, and in doing so, his leg is flush against yours. He’s so close that his hair brushes against your cheek when he moves and you can smell him—earthy like pine and a tiny bit like menthol cigarettes.

You realize you might be a bit tipsier than you had thought because it takes extra effort to focus on the words in front of you.

His first few songs are good, but they don't match the vibe of the band.

"Too metal,” you say to him, pointing out the songs you’re referencing.

“Yeah, that makes sense, those were meant to be for my old band,” he responds.

You know enough about Eddie’s professional past to know that he used to be in a metal band before joining The Downsides and that it ended poorly, but not much else.

You flip through a few more pages before a few lines of lyrics catch your eye:

Don’t remember who I was then

Can’t keep straight where I was when

What’s my name? Where have I been?

Where did I start? Where does it end?

You’re the one thing I hold dear

The only thing that’s crystal clear

I live and die if you’re near

And all the scars disappears.

“This is something,” you hold the page up to Eddie.

He reads over the lines and grimaces.

“I wrote that right after I got out of rehab a few years ago. It didn’t really go anywhere...as you can see.”

This realization is sobering to hear. Mostly because it enlightens you to how little you know about your bandmate. You spend a moment trying to categorize everything you know about Eddie and you come up sparse. You weren’t even entirely sure you knew how old he was.

He seems to take your silence as you process this as judgment because you feel him scoot away, his face and body angled away from you.

You reach out and lay a hand on his arm, and he freezes.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” you say slowly, before picking up his notebook again, this time with a newfound care.

“This,” you tap the lyrics, “doesn’t need to go anywhere. It can just stay here or wherever you want it to.”

***

EDDIE: It wasn’t the reaction I expected from her, but it was really nice to hear.

***

You and Eddie flip through the rest of your respective songs, not really finding anything that both of you can agree on. There are a few stray lines that jump out from both your books but beyond that, there was nothing the two of you could agree on. It was pretty clear that you were both writing songs for artists that you no longer were.

Right around the third hour together, you both decide to call it a night, but only under the condition that the next time you meet, you’ll both have come with something brand new written.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you say, voice hushed as you usher Eddie to the door, “and thanks for letting me read your work.”

He just smiles in response, wide and beautiful and rare.

“Don’t worry, princess, we’ll get there. This was just a test run,” he reminds you.

You watch him make his way down the hall Until he disappears but not before throwing one last, rare, smile your way.

Once Eddie is gone, you all but drag yourself to your bed, yearning for that special hotel-pillow softness when you hear another knock. This time, from the door connecting your room to Steve’s.

“Steve,” you pull the door open, “why are you awake? It’s like 4 AM.”

“Can’t sleep,” he mumbles. “Can I hang out with you for a bit?”

His eyes are barely open and his hair is disheveled beyond belief. He looks young standing there in his worn-out pajama pants.

“Fine,” you say as you turn back into your room, “but I’m getting into bed because I’m tired.”

He follows you into your room and shuts the door behind him. You make a beeline for your bed to slide under the covers and Steve, meanwhile moves towards the couch.

“Why can’t you sleep, Steve?” you ask, burrowing into your duvet, eyes already closed.

“I dunno, can’t stop thinking.”

“Thinking? You don’t need to be doing that.”

By the time he responds, you’re already asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, Steve is still there, asleep strewn across the tiny couch, hair even wilder than the night before.

***

ARGYLE: Tour life was the best life. A new city every night, the music was good, the crowds were crazy and the drugs were plentiful. And the parties! My dude, the parties! After every show we’d end the night at some bar or club with the band, the crew and more groupies than a dude could ever want.

***

March 6th, 1984, Atlanta, GA. The Upside Down Tour

“You know, it’s not what you think.” Nancy’s voice can barely be heard over the sound of the thumping music of the basement bar that you’re in.

“What?” You ask the keyboardist.

She gestures subtly with a nod towards the corner that had been occupying your attention. Robin and Steve were huddled together in deep conversation, both leaning against the bar. A few spots away, Eddie sat with a pretty girl with locs. Over the last few minutes, you had watched as his hand made its way slowly up her thigh with an almost morbid sense of curiosity.

Your eyes turn back to Nancy, unsure as to why she would weigh in on the flirtation between Eddie and the groupie.

“Steve and Robin,” she elaborates, “I’ve seen you staring and I know what it looks like, but it’s not what you think. They’re close but just friends.”

Oh. Steve and Robin. Right.

“It doesn’t matter what they are and what I think of it, Nancy, because it’s none of my business,” you respond.

She turns to face you, clearly ready to argue something back but you cut her off.

“Where’s Jonathan? I haven’t seen him all night.”

A grimace flashes across her face for brief moment, nearly imperceptible, but you catch it.

”He’s back at the hotel room,” she replies tersely, “on the phone with his mom. Will had another surgery today.”

You wince. It was no secret that Jonathan‘s younger brother had fallen ill again. You had seen less and less of the bassist as the tour had progressed. He’d been spending any time that he wasn’t on stage trying to get ahold of his mom back home to ask about the progress of the youngest Byers boy.

You smile at Nancy in a way that you hope is reassuring and say, “Weren’t his chances of recovery high after his surgery, though?”

Nancy exhaled deeply, “If everything goes well, then yes, chances of recovery are high.”

She looks like she wants to say something more but cuts herself short. Her eyes float past you, to the newly appeared figure to your right. Steve.

He smiles in greeting, his arm falling to graze in between your shoulder blades. His pupils are blown wide— a dead give away that he had partaken in whatever substance Argyle had been touting earlier in the evening.

Even high, he seemed to pick up on the serious mood between the two of you and asks if everything is alright. You smile softly and nod, arm snaking around his back lightly.

Nancy sighs in response. “We were just talking about Jonathan, actually I think I’m going to go check on him. Have a good night, you two,” she says and she looks at you and Steve, her eyes catching on the points where your bodies touch.

As she pushes herself forward, ready to move towards the exit, Steve calls out after her.

The two of them lock eyes and they seem to be holding yet another silent conversation. While you can not decipher their secret language of raised eyebrows and scrunched noses, you can that they’re arguing about something and by the way their eyes keep bouncing to you, you can’t help but wonder if it’s you they’re arguing about and what you could’ve possible done to warrant that.

Whatever their argument is about, it doesn’t seem to come to a resolution based on the way Nancy scoffs at Steve and rolls her eyes before bidding her final goodbye.

“What was that all about?” You ask, when she’s finally out of sight.

“Nothing,” Steve says tightly, “Nance is trying to convince me she’s right about something that I knowshe’s wrong about and she won’t let it go.”

This catches your attention.

“Oh, yeah? And what possible could Nancy Wheeler be wrong about, pray tell,” you plea conspiratorially, turning fully to face him and drawing closer.

This leaves Steve gasping for words in a way that makes you wonder if he’s higher than you originally thought.

Before you can ask him if he’s alright, he freezes as he spots something over your shoulder a weird expression taking over his face. You turn, following his line of sight to Robin locked in a very intimate embrace with the female bartender that was serving her and Steve earlier in the evening. The bartender leans upward to catch Robin’s lips and you hear Steve hiss, “Damn it,” under his breath.

Of course, this must have been the thing that Steve and Nancy were arguing about. Steve and Robin must be in a fight.

You scan back through your recent memories of them wondering if perhaps there had been signs of a growing rift that you may have missed but as far as you’d noticed things were normal between the two of them.

“Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry,” you sooth, finally turning back to face him.

“Don’t be, it’s only $50,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. He must really be higher than you thought.

“What?”

“The bet was only 50 bucks,” he explains, way too calm for someone who just saw the girl he’s in love with kissing another girl in a crowded bar.

“I’m not sure I’m following,” you say slowly, before the realization dawns, “wait, is this some where sex thing the two of you do? Listen, as much as I like you both as friends and appreciate that you trust me with the details of your romantic relationship, we’re still, like, coworkers and I don’t really think I should be hearing what the two of you get up to intimately—“

“Woah, woah, woah, romantic relationship? Me and Robin are not in a romantic relationship and we definitely are not intimate in any sense of the word, and the fact that you think that makes me want to barf, actually. Why would you think that?” He asks, a wildness coloring his tone.

“Well, you’re always together and you’re so close, and you’ve always been so secretive, sneaking around together and stuff,” you struggle to answer under his confused gaze.

“No, we’re friends, capital ‘P’ platonic,” he explains, “always have been, always will.” He can clearly tell you’re still confused because he then begins to explain further, “ The bartender, and her have been flirting all night, but Robin was too chickenshit to make a move so I bet her $50 that she couldn’t get her phone number by the end of the night but it seems like she got more than just her phone number. Which I guess is a good thing because maybe now she’ll stop moping about that girl back in LA but it sucks that I’m out $50.”

“Wait, Robin dates girls?”

Steve winces, as if the realization of what he’s told you has just now hit him.

“Sorry, that was not my information to reveal. Please, don’t mention it. Please. It’s not that Robin doesn’t trust you or like you it’s just that she’s trying to be extra careful about it. She doesn’t want it to get, you know, out out. Especially with all the new press we’re getting.”

You nod back in understanding, “don’t worry, I won’t say anything. To anyone. I promise. I would never put Robin in that spot.”

Relief immediately runs through Steve’s features.

“Although, if she wants to keep things under wraps,” you begin, glancing back to where Robin is still kissing the bartender, “maybe she doesn’t want to be making out with women in public?”

Steve nods rapidly in response, “Yup, good call, we should take her back to the hotel.”

Rob proves to be a stubborn drunk, and it takes you and Steve about 20 minutes to cajole her out of the bartenders arms and into the back of a cab.

She spend the entire ride back to the hotel going on and on about ”star-crossed love” and the “malignant force is keeping her from her beloved disguising themselves as friends”. In response you simply nod along and your hand up and down her back in a way that you hope is soothing.

“At least you two have each other,” she says softly, patting your cheek as the cab slows to a stop in front of your downtown hotel.

Then, as she steps out onto the sidewalk, her stance wavers and she leans in, essentially pinning you to the side of the cab.

You think she might try to kiss you too, but instead she whispers, “Please be careful with his heart. Steve’s softer than you think, you know.”

***

It’s a joint effort between you and Steve to put Robin to bed.

Makeup is gently removed, hair is pulled up, and pajamas put on, and a slumbering Robin is safely tucked into bed with a receipt with the bartender’s number and $50 bill placed on her nightstand, ready to greet her in the morning.

“She’s gonna be so hung over tomorrow,” Steve remarks as the two of you amble down the hallway to your own rooms.

“Does she always get like that when she drinks?” You ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, all, Shakespearean and nonsensical? She was saying all sorts of weird things back there. I think she even thought we were together. Which is actually kinda funny considering early tonight I thought the two of you were together,” you chuckle at the irony.

Steve, however, looks distraught at this observation. Suddenly, he stops in front of your rooms and turns to you.

“Is that why you’ve been acting so distant with me, because you thought I was with Robin?”

You blush.

“Partially, sure,” you stutter, “it’s hard to pretend to date your bandmate when you think he’s in love with your other bandmate. But, I also think it’s good that we maintain a healthy distance.”

“Why?”

The severity in his voice when he asks that takes you by surprise.

“Well, because it helps us remember that none of it’s really,” you admit, carefully.

You struggle to meet Steve’s eyes when you say this because, while it’s a fact that your relationship is a farce, speaking that out loud feels particularly cruel.

You catch the movement of his throat as he swallows thickly but you can’t brave a look at his face.

When he finally speaks, his voice is unsteady, “If there was no Starcourt and no contract and you and I were just two normal people, would you want us to be real?”

He sounds so scared you can’t help but reach out for him, trying to offer some comfort. He accepts your small hand in both of his, thumbs grazing the back of your hand with much more gentleness than you’ve ever been offered. Than you think you deserve.

You can’t help but meet his gaze then, and the way he looks at you, vulnerable and hopeful is nearly too much to bear.

“I don’t know,” you begin, tears building at your lash line, because you truly don’t.

You think back, in earnest, to all you’ve come to learn about one another and how easy it is to be around him. You think about the way you find comfort in his touch and he in yours. And you think about the two of you performing and how every time you’re on stage with him, it feels like there’s no one else but you and Steve.

The shrill ding of the elevator brings you crashing down to reality, to the dingy hotel hallway and the beautiful boy in front of you with the pleading eyes.

Footsteps and giggles make echo down the hall, coming closer. Both you and Steve turn towards the noise, temporarily forgetting your very serious conversation.

Suddenly, Eddie appears around the corner, the pretty girl from bar on his heels.

He stops abruptly at the sight of you and Steve. You turn your face in the other direction, quickly. You don’t want him to see you in this state, teary and distressed, especially not while he’s with this beautiful stranger, so you hide yourself against Steve’s chest.

There’s a terse quiet that follows while you’re sure Eddie assesses the situation.

You can tell by the way Steve gently curls his arm around your shoulder that the two of them must be having some weird silent standoff.

“Wait,” you hear Eddie’s companion shrill, “are you Steve Harrington and—“

“Yes, that’s them, sweetheart, in the flesh,” Eddie cuts her off and you can hear them start moving down the hallway again, “How about we give the lovebirds their privacy and you and I pick up where we left off in the cab?”

You listen to their footsteps growing fainter and fainter and when you’re sure it’s just you and Steve, you pull yourself out of his embrace, to face him once again.

“What I want doesn’t matter, Steve,” you admit, sadly, “not when everyone is depending on us fulfilling our contract.”

He sighs, “I don’t understand why we can’t fulfill the contract while being together? Wouldn’t we be more believable if we didn’t have to pretend? If it was actually real?”

He didn’t get it.

“Maybe, but what if things go badly? What if we’re happy for a little while but then we realize we can’t stand each other? Then what? We either break up the band or we are forced to keep pretending just like we are now but this time, we hate each other? ”

You think of your parents and how they lived separate lives for as long as you could remember, speaking to each other only when absolutely necessary. You’re sure they didn’t intend to hate each other at first.

“What if we find out we really like each other?” He argues back gently, “what if things work out great and we’re happy?”

You wouldn’t know how to do that. No one ever taught you how to love without it hurting.

“No,” you say, sadly shaking your head, “someone will just end up getting hurt.”

Steve clutches your hand tighter, one final supplication. “If someone has to get hurt, I’ll make sure it’s me.”

Full tears are streaming down your face now as you gently pull your hand out of Steve’s grasp.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” you tell him, turning away from him while you still can, leaving him standing alone in the hall.

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