#I will literally never get over that line | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

v6quewrlds · 8 hours ago

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LOVE DROUGHT, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x oc [chelsea brooks]. word count⠀⁎⠀26k.

summary⠀⁎⠀chelsea's life appears perfect. a beautiful home, a great job, and a valuable last name. leaving behind her life in atlanta to come to cincinnati presents new opportunities and new challenges in her marriage. the biggest challenge comes in the form of the handsome neighbor next door, every married inch of him.

author's note⠀⁎⠀don't do this ???? lmao. should really be named "joe and chelsea have an affair", happy ending! we love happy endings. i might have a part two in me, we'll see. takes place over a year give or take. this takes place in an alternate universe where joe never transferred to lsu/didn't go to the nfl, joe's "backstory" is entirely made up lmao, joe is 36, chelsea is 34, longest thing i've ever written in my life lol sorry? warnings⠀⁎⠀don't like it? don't read it <3 don't let your husband stop you from meeting your soulmate <3, infidelity, literally everyone in this story has questionable behaviors, several mentions of masturbation, mirror sex, infidelity as dirty talk?, booty calls.

Chelsea Brooks stepped out of her sleek black Mercedes, her Nike sneakers crunching the autumn leaves against the concrete driveway. She took a deep breath of the crisp, Cincinnati air, feeling the chilly breeze caress her cheeks. The house she and her husband, Terrence, had just bought was a beautiful monstrosity of stone and glass, a stark contrast to the warm, cozy homes of her Atlanta roots. She surveyed the quiet neighborhood, noting the perfectly manicured lawns and the welcoming porches that seemed to whisper tales of family gatherings and long summer nights.

Her husband, Terrence, was already inside, unpacking boxes filled with their lives from their old home. He was a neurosurgeon, a man of precision and order, and Chelsea knew that the chaos of moving would only add to his stress. But she couldn't help feeling a twinge of excitement as she approached the front door. The house was a symbol of their success, a testament to their hard work and their families' legacies. As she stepped into the foyer, she heard the distant sound of Terrence's voice, muffled by the walls that now stood between them.

The house was cool and unfamiliar, smelling faintly of paint and new carpets. The echoes of their footsteps made it seem like a cavernous museum rather than a home filled with love and laughter. The grandeur of their new abode was a stark reminder of the expectations that had been placed upon them since childhood. Chelsea and Terrence had worked their asses off to maintain the status quo, to be the poster children for "love" and "excellence". But as she looked around, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. It was as if their lives had been painted by numbers and they hadn't had the courage to scribble outside the lines.

"Terrence, where are you?" Chelsea called out, her voice echoing through the vast, empty space.

Terrence emerged from the depths of their future dining room, sweat beading on his brow. "In here, baby. I'm just getting the last of the china unpacked. Your momma's gonna love that we finally have our own china cabinet."

Chelsea couldn't help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. It was true, their parents had been thrilled with their move to Cincinnati. It was a step up for both their careers and a chance to rub elbows with the upper echelon of society. But for Chelsea, the move had brought a sense of suffocation. She was an entertainment lawyer, used to the fast-paced, glitzy world of celebrities and sports stars in Atlanta. Here, she felt like a fish out of water.

"I brought lunch," Chelsea announced, holding up a bag from the deli they passed on the drive in. She set it down on the marble kitchen countertop and opened it, revealing hot sandwiches and a side of chips. "I know how you hate eating cold food, so I figured I'd be nice and get you something warm."

Terrence looked up from the box he was unpacking, his eyes lighting up. "You're a lifesaver, baby," he said, stepping over to give her a quick smile. His hand lingered on the small of her back, a gesture that was somehow both casual and possessive. "How was your first day at the firm?"

Chelsea shrugged, trying to keep the doubt out of her voice. "It was great. Met some interesting people. The office is nice, but it's going to take some getting used to." She handed him a sandwich and watched as he took a bite, his eyes closing briefly in satisfaction. "It's not Atlanta, that's for sure," she added, unable to hide the wistfulness that crept into her tone.

Terrence looked at her, his expression softening. "I know it's a change, but it's for a good reason. I'm making more money, saving more lives... we're in this together." He took another bite, then paused. "What do you think about the neighborhood? They got some crazy-ass houses around here."

Chelsea nodded, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's nice. You saw the fuckin' three-story McMansion next door? I ran into the retired couple who own it, the Chens. They had their grandkids over, screaming and playing in the yard. It was cute." She took a bite of her cold sandwich, savoring the flavor of the turkey and avocado.

Terrence chuckled. "I'm sure it'll be quieter when they're not around." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Speaking of neighbors, I've heard the couple on the other side are pretty cool. The wife owns that fancy ass restaurant downtown. We should pop over there and introduce ourselves."

"Gianna Mora?" Chelsea's eyes widened. "The celebrity chef from that travel show? Are you for real, she's our neighbor?"

"That's the most excited I seen you all week," Terrence said with a laugh, his eyes sparkling at the mention of their famous neighbor.

"Well, it's not every day you live next to a celebrity chef," Chelsea replied, her curiosity piqued. "I've seen her show a few times. She seems really down-to-earth."

Terrence nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she's got that whole 'girl next door' vibe going on. Her and her husband, they seem like good people." He took another bite of his sandwich, his voice muffled slightly. "I think I saw him out jogging this morning. He got to be pushing six-four, 220 pounds, easy."

Chelsea felt a twinge of curiosity about the mysterious neighbor, Joe Burrow. She had heard Gianna's name often in the entertainment circles, but never knew much about her husband. The idea of a quiet, introverted man being married to a vibrant, outgoing celebrity was entertaining. She imagined him as a silent supporter, the rock that kept Gianna grounded amidst her culinary stardom.

The sound of the doorbell cut through her thoughts, and Chelsea wiped her hands on a spare napkin before walking over to answer it. She was surprised to find Gianna on the other side, her bouncy, jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail, a warm smile on her face. "Hey, I hope you guys aren't too busy," she said, her eyes scanning the still-boxed living room. "I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself properly. I'm Gianna."

Chelsea stepped aside, gesturing for Gianna to come in. "Of course, we've been meaning to do the same," she said, feeling a little guilty for not taking the initiative. "I'm Chelsea, and this is my husband, Terrence."

Gianna's smile grew as she stepped inside, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "It's so nice to meet you both," she said, her midwestern accent adding a layer of charm to her already bubbly personality. "I figured you guys might need a break from all the unpacking. Plus, I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight. My husband Joe will be home from his business trip, and I love any excuse to mess around in the kitchen."

Terrence wiped his hands on his pants, setting down his half-eaten sandwich. "That's incredibly kind of you, Gianna. We'd love to come over."

Gianna's smile widened. "Perfect. How does eight o'clock sound?"

"We'll be there," Terrence said, flashing his most charming smile. "Looking forward to tasting some of that famous cooking of yours."

Gianna's eyes twinkled with excitement. "It won't be anything too fancy," she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Just a little welcome dinner for the new kids on the block." She handed Chelsea a business card with the address of her restaurant. "And if you're ever in the mood for something special, feel free to stop by the restaurant. I can always whip something up for you."

"Thanks for the invite, Gianna," Chelsea said, her eyes flicking to the paper before setting it down on the counter. "I'm sure it'll be amazing. We'll see you tonight."

As the door closed behind Gianna, Terrence turned to her. "You okay with this?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. "I know you've had a long week."

Chelsea nodded, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich. "Yeah, I'm fine. It'll be nice to get to know our neighbors."

Terrence leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And maybe get a little gossip on the local celeb scene," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Chelsea couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You just want to get closer to her recipes," she said, tossing a napkin at him. "But sure, let's get ready. I need to find something to wear that doesn't look like I just rolled out of a moving van."

"Wait, baby, hold on," Terrence called out, reaching for her hand as she moved to stand up. "I think we have to christen the house, don't you?"

Chelsea sighed, the weight of his words not lost on her. She knew what he wanted, and while the timing was less than ideal, she also knew it would be a quick and easy way to keep him satisfied. She nodded, a forced smile playing on her lips as she let him pull her back down to the couch. He kissed her, his hands moving to the zipper of her skirt. It was a dance they had performed countless times before, a routine that lacked the passion it once had.

As they undressed each other, Chelsea couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. Terrence was still the same romantic he had been in college, but that was precisely the problem. He had stayed the same while she had grown into a woman who craved more. More excitement, more adventure, more everything. But she pushed her thoughts aside as she focused on the task at hand, trying to find some semblance of satisfaction in their lovemaking.

Terrence, oblivious to her inner turmoil, whispered sweet nothings in her ear as he kissed along her neck. Chelsea closed her eyes, willing herself to feel something, anything, other than the coldness that had settled in her chest. She let out a moan, hoping to convince herself more than him, and he took it as an encouragement to go harder. The couch creaked under their weight as they moved in a rhythm that had become all too familiar.

Afterwards, Chelsea stood in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged, and she looked tired. She quickly cleaned herself up and slipped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the feeling of emptiness that lingered. When she emerged, she found Terrence getting dressed for the dinner, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

"You look amazing," Terrence said, his eyes appreciating her figure as she stepped out of the bathroom. "Like you just stepped out of a magazine."

Chelsea forced a smile, wrapping a towel around her body. "Thanks, T," she said, her voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. She had chosen a simple black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. It was a classic choice, one that she knew would make her look put together without trying too hard. She didn't bother with the lingerie Terrence typically encouraged her to slip on; it was just for show tonight.

They arrived at Gianna and Joe's home promptly at eight, the warm glow of lights spilling out from the windows. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, making Chelsea's stomach rumble. Terrence knocked on the door, and after a moment, it swung open to reveal Joe. He was dressed casually in a button-down shirt and jeans, his hair slightly ruffled as if hastily blow-dried.

"Welcome, welcome," he said, his eyes lingering on Chelsea a beat too long before looking at Terrence. "I'm glad you could make it. I'm Joe Burrow." He shook Terrence's hand firmly and then offered his hand to Chelsea. She took it, feeling a spark of something unfamiliar jolt through her at the touch. The two men exchanged a bottle of Terrence's homemade apple cider, as Chelsea attempted to moderate her heartbeat.

Gianna emerged from the kitchen, a vision in a flowy red dress that hugged her petite frame. She had a warm smile that seemed to light up the room, and her eyes were bright with excitement as she greeted them. "Come in, come in," she said, her accent a delightful blend of her midwestern roots and her PR training. "I hope you're hungry, I made some pozole rojo that I've been dying to share with someone other than Joe."

The four of them settled around the dinner table, the conversation flowing easily. Chelsea found herself drawn to Joe's deep blue eyes and the way his muscles flexed under his shirt as he reached for the bread. He was handsome in a way that was almost old fashioned, like a 1940s movie star who'd stepped out of the screen into their modern lives. And there was something about the way he talked, the quiet confidence in his voice, that made her want to lean in closer, to hear every word he said.

Terrence and Gianna talked about their work, the challenges of balancing their demanding careers with their personal lives. Chelsea listened, nodding along, but her mind kept drifting back to Joe. She could feel the tension between them, a palpable force that seemed to thicken the air in the room. It was as if they were the only two people there, and everyone else was just a blurry backdrop to their clandestine attraction.

Dinner was a delightful array of flavors and textures, each bite a testament to Gianna's culinary talents. But Chelsea had to admit, she was having a hard time focusing on the food. Her focus kept wandering to Joe, the way his strong hands moved as he reached for a tortilla, the way his voice rumbled in his chest when he laughed. She took a sip of the wine from the winery Gianna and Joe owned, trying to keep her cool. The conversation turned to their hometowns, and Chelsea talked about growing up in the bustling streets of Atlanta, the vibrant culture and the endless energy that had shaped her into who she was today. Joe spoke of his small-town upbringing, his voice filled with a hint of nostalgia that made Chelsea's heart ache.

Terrence excused himself to take a work call, leaving Chelsea, Gianna, and Joe to continue the evening. Chelsea felt a strange sense of relief, as if she had been waiting for this moment all night. The conversation grew more intimate, the three of them sharing stories of their college days and their early careers. Chelsea found herself laughing at Joe's tales of his college football days, his face lighting up with the memories. Gianna, ever the gracious host, listened intently, her eyes shimmering with pride.

As the wine bottle grew empty, Joe suggested they move to the living room, where a crackling fire and comfortable couches beckoned. Chelsea agreed, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her body, loosening her inhibitions. She across from Gianna whose head rested against Joe's broad shoulder, his wedding ring glistening as he rested his left hand over the back of the couch. Terrence joined them, his eyes glazed over with the fatigue of a doctor's schedule.

The conversation took a turn to their respective careers and how they had met their spouses. Chelsea and Terrence talked about their college romance, their paths diverging and then converging again in the world of law and medicine. Gianna shared her journey from culinary school to opening her own restaurant, which Joe had supported her through every step of the way. It was clear that Joe and Gianna had a strong bond, built on respect and a shared history. Yet, as the night grew late, Chelsea couldn't shake the feeling that Joe's eyes kept straying to her.

When Terrence finally stood up, yawning and checking his watch, Chelsea felt a jolt of disappointment. She didn't want the evening to end, not yet. But she knew she couldn't ask him to stay. "We should get going," Terrence said, "It's been a long day and I've got an early surgery tomorrow."

"Let's exchange numbers," Chelsea suggested, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "We should get together again once we're all settled in."

Gianna beamed, and the two women exchanged numbers while Joe quietly observed. Chelsea felt his gaze on her as she said goodbye, the intensity of it making her heart race. They stepped out into the cool Cincinnati night, the stars glinting in the sky above their heads. Terrence walked them down the sidewalk to their home, his hand resting protectively on the small of Chelsea's back.

The next few weeks saw Chelsea and Joe's paths crossing more often than not. They'd wave from their respective lawns as they mowed the grass or tended to their flowers. They'd bump into each other while out at their mailboxes, exchanging pleasantries and small talk. Yet, the charged energy between them grew with each encounter, the unspoken desire thickening like the humidity in the air before a summer storm.

Work kept both Chelsea and Joe busy, allowing their attraction to simmer under the surface of their daily lives. Yet, every time their eyes met, the electricity was undeniable. Chelsea found herself looking forward to these casual meetings, her heart fluttering as she anticipated their next encounter.

Chelsea closed out a huge contract with a professional basketball player about two months after moving to Cincinnati, feeling a high she hadn't experienced in weeks. As she pulled into the driveway, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Terrence's car in the garage. He was rarely home before dark. She bounced into the house, her heels echoing through the grand entryway, and found him in the living room, surrounded by the last of their cardboard boxes. "Surprise," he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I took the afternoon off. I thought we could finally get this place in order."

Their relationship had been chilly since the move, but Chelsea felt a spark of hope at his gesture. They worked side by side, unpacking and rearranging furniture, and when the last box was empty, they collapsed onto the couch, laughing and sweaty. It was the most relaxed she'd been around him in months, and Chelsea allowed herself to feel a flicker of affection for him.

"Thank you for helping me today," she said, leaning into his side.

Terrence grinned, his eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the TV. "No problem. It's what we do for each other."

But as the days rolled into weeks, the spark didn't catch. The routine of their marriage resumed its monotonous cycle, and Chelsea found herself looking out the window, watching Joe jog past her house in the early mornings. His tall, muscular frame was a stark contrast to Terrence's slim build, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel those arms around her instead.

"I'm all packed, Chels," Terrence called out from their bedroom, interrupting her thoughts. "Don't wait up for me tonight, I've got a full surgical schedule and an even longer flight. I'll be back in a week." He kissed her on the forehead and she nodded. Terrence would be attending a medical conference in London, leaving Chelsea to hold down the fort and entertain her best friend flying in from Atlanta for the weekend.

Chelsea watched Terrence's taillights disappear into the early morning sunlight, feeling a strange mix of relief and dread. The house was quiet, almost too quiet without his constant presence. She had the weekend to herself, but she knew the silence would only amplify her thoughts of Joe. But with her best friend, Jasmine, arriving that evening, she had no time to wallow in her illicit desires.

With a deep breath, Chelsea turned her focus to the impending weekend. She had plans to take Jasmine to all the local hotspots, including Gianna's restaurant. As they unpacked her luggage, Chelsea's phone buzzed with a message from Gianna, supportive of Chelsea's suggestion they all grab dinner together the following night at the restaurant.

That evening, as Chelsea and Jasmine lounged on the plush couch with a bottle of wine, both Terrence and Joe were the furthest thing from her mind. They laughed and reminisced about their old antics, filling the air with nostalgia. Chelsea had missed this, the genuine connection with someone who knew her before she became Mrs. Brooks, the high-powered, ultra-successful attorney. Jasmine was a reminder of the wild, carefree woman Chelsea used to be before the expectations of her family and marriage had tamed her spirit.

The next night, Chelsea and Jasmine got dressed to the nines for dinner at Gianna's restaurant. The scent of garlic and spices wafted from the kitchen, tantalizing their senses. As they waited for their table, Joe strolled in, looking as suave as ever in a tailored suit. Chelsea felt a jolt of electricity at the sight of him, and she knew that she hadn't been able to shake the attraction she'd felt that first night. She introduced Jasmine and the two of them chatted for a bit before Gianna whisked them away to show off the kitchen.

Jasmine leaned in to whisper, "Damn, girl, your neighbor is fine."

Chelsea rolled her eyes, "Really? I didn't notice."

The evening passed in a delightful blur of exquisite food and lively conversation. Gianna regaled them with tales from her show, and Joe shared stories from his corporate world. Despite their different backgrounds, Chelsea found herself drawn into Joe's world, his quiet confidence and sharp wit a refreshing change from Terrence's stoic nature. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of something she hadn't felt in a long time—desire.

As they said their goodnights, Joe's hand grazed Chelsea's arm, sending a shiver down her spine. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't resist the allure of the flame. The following day, as Chelsea pulled out of the driveway to drive Jasmine back to the airport, she saw Joe outside, dressed in a suit again, presumably heading off to work. He waved and she felt her cheeks warm, the memory of his touch still lingering on her skin.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension between Chelsea and Joe grew thicker than the humid Cincinnati air. They saw each other in passing, exchanging polite smiles and lingering stares, but not much else. Chelsea threw herself into her work, burying her thoughts in contracts and negotiations, but Joe's magnetic presence was never far from her mind.

One sweltering afternoon, as Chelsea returned from a particularly grueling day at the office, she spotted Joe in his backyard, sweat glistening on his forehead as he tended to the garden. Her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders and strong hands. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she found herself walking over, her high heels sinking into the soft grass.

"I didn't know Mr. CFO had a green thumb," Chelsea called out, her voice carrying over the fence that separated their properties.

Joe looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's one of the few things that keeps me sane," he responded, straightening up to give her a better view of his body. His white dry-fit pulled taut across his broad chest. "Gigi likes to grow her own herbs and somehow, I got roped into it."

Chelsea stepped closer, the heat from the sun matching the warmth that spread through her body. "I can see the appeal," she said, her eyes raking over his muscular physique. "It's therapeutic."

Joe nodded, his gaze lingering on her figure. "It's a good distraction," he said, the double meaning clear in his voice.

"I could use a distraction," Chelsea admitted, her voice low and sultry. She stepped back from the fence, work bag in hand. "It was nice to see you. Happy gardening."

Another five weeks passed, and Chelsea found herself getting ready for the annual fundraising gala for her firm. The event was a mix of high-profile clients and potential new business connections, so the pressure to make a good impression was high. As she slipped into her form-fitting black gown, she couldn't help the sinking disappointment flood through her when Terrence called to say he had to cover an emergency surgery. He'd miss the gala, leaving her to attend alone.

The hotel ballroom was a whirlwind of glitz and glamour, the air thick with ambition and expensive cologne. Chelsea felt both out of place and completely at home as she mingled with the city's elite. She had hoped to use the evening to put Joe out of her mind, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Sure enough, when she turned to grab a glass of champagne from the waiter, she saw him standing by the bar, looking every inch the powerful CFO he was. His eyes met hers, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body. They hadn't talked since the day she saw him in the garden, but the heat was as potent as ever.

"Joe," she said, trying to sound casual. "I didn't know you were coming tonight."

He approached her, his smile wry. "Gianna had a last-minute filming gig," he said, holding up his own glass. "I thought I'd come to support a good cause. I didn't realize this was your firm?"

Chelsea felt her heart race as she took a sip of the bubbly. "It's a small world," she murmured, her eyes darting around the room. "But I should probably go mingle."

Joe leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Or you could stay here and mingle with me," he suggested, his hand brushing against her bare back.

Chelsea's skin prickled with desire, and she knew she was playing with fire. "I shouldn't," she whispered, trying to pull away. But Joe's touch was like a magnet, drawing her back in.

"Why not?" he challenged, his voice low and seductive. "We're just two adults enjoying a bit of conversation." His hand slid down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. The heat of his palm seemed to burn through the fabric of her dress.

Chelsea's resolve was slipping. The room felt too warm, the noise of the party a distant buzz. "Because we're both married," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "to two great people who don't deserve to be hurt."

Joe's expression grew serious, his hand lingering on her back. "You're right," he said, "but we're also two people with needs." His thumb traced small circles on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "Needs that aren't being met."

Confusion flickered in Chelsea's eyes, the conflict between her desires and her conscience playing out on her features. "Gigi's drop-dead gorgeous," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "and Terrence... he's a good guy. Why isn't that enough?" She practically scoffed at the thought as if scolding herself for being unfulfilled.

Joe's gaze grew intense. "It's not about what's enough," he replied, his hand sliding lower to rest just above the curve of her ass. "It's about what we want." His voice was a low rumble that seemed to resonate deep within her. "And I know what I want."

Their conversation was interrupted by a colleague of Chelsea's, breaking the tension like a knife through hot butter. She was torn, part of her relieved for the interruption, the other part craving Joe's touch. As she was dragged away to schmooze with potential clients, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move. The evening grew longer, the conversations more forced, and she found herself counting down the minutes until she could be alone with her thoughts.

When the event finally wound down, Chelsea made her escape to the hotel's lobby, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She was about to call for a ride home when Joe appeared beside her, his hand on her elbow. "Let me take you home," he offered, his voice thick with intent.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she weighed the consequences of her decision. With a deep breath, she nodded. They made their way to his car, the cool night air doing little to calm her racing thoughts. The drive was filled with tense silence, their eyes meeting every time they stopped at a red light. The anticipation was palpable, a silent crescendo building between them.

When they arrived at her house, Joe's hand lingered on the gear shift. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice thick with unspoken desire. He turned to her, his eyes searching hers.

"Chelsea," he began, his voice gruff with want.

With a surge of control, Chelsea moved to open the passenger door. "Thank you for the ride, Joe," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I should get inside. I'm exhausted."

He nodded slowly, the tension in the car thick as they both knew what they were walking away from. "Alright," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'll see you around?"

"Sure," she replied, her voice a soft sigh. "See you around."

The door clicked shut, and Joe waited until she was safely inside before driving away. Chelsea leaned against the door, her hand on her racing heart, feeling the weight of the evening's events pressing down on her. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't deny the excitement that danced within her.

Her body felt heavy as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, the memory of Joe's touch still electric on her skin. She slipped out of her dress and into her silk nightgown, her mind replaying the night's events in a dizzying loop. As she slid between the cool sheets, she couldn't shake the feeling of Joe's eyes on her, his touch, his voice. Her hand traveled down her body, tracing the same paths he had earlier. Her breath grew ragged as she reached her own release, moaning his name out loud into the darkness, the syllables falling off her tongue as if destined.

The next day, she found herself unable to concentrate at work, her thoughts consumed by Joe. The office felt stifling, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling the same. She found her eyes darting to her phone, waiting for a message that never came. It was as if the universe knew she was teetering on the edge, and it was holding its breath.

When she got home, she was surprised to find a bouquet of flowers on her doorstep with a note that simply read, "All my best." She knew immediately they were from Joe, and the gesture sent a shiver down her spine. She brought them inside, placing them on the kitchen counter, and stared at them for what felt like hours, the scent of roses filling the room.

They kept running into each other, the tension growing with every passing encounter. They exchanged glances that spoke volumes, but neither made a move. The weight of their secret grew heavier with each shared smile, each lingering touch. It was a dance they both knew could end in disaster, but the music was too tempting to resist.

The next time she spoke to him was a Saturday afternoon in May. Terrence was out playing golf with colleagues, and she had spent the day cleaning from top to bottom. The house was finally starting to feel like home, but she couldn't ignore the emptiness that echoed through the halls. The sun cast a gorgeous glow over the neighborhood as she stepped outside to get some fresh air. She exchanged her usual business attire for a pair of shorts and a simple tank top, her freshly pressed hair pulled into a high ponytail.

As she sat on the porch swing, the sound of faint grunts and huffed counting from Joe's backyard caught her attention. Curious, she slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to get a better look. She found him shirtless, a sheen of sweat glistening on his broad chest and shoulders as he worked through a set of push-ups. Chelsea couldn't help but admire the play of muscles beneath his skin, her gaze lingering longer than she intended.

Their eyes met, and Joe paused mid-push-up, a smirk playing on his lips as he held his hover over the shaded pavement effortlessly. He didn't bother getting up, instead continuing his workout, clearly enjoying the attention. She felt the heat creep into her cheeks and turned away, looking down as she pretended to examine the fence. The sound of his footsteps grew closer until he was standing on the other side, just a few wooden slats separating them.

"You know, I could use a spotter," he called over with a laugh, his voice low and teasing. "Or are you just here to admire the view?"

Chelsea rolled her eyes, though she couldn't hide her own smirk. "I wouldn't dare interrupt your workout routine, Mr. Burrow," she quipped, trying to sound more casual than she felt.

"Joe," he corrected, his voice dropping an octave. "And I could use the company."

The air thickened between them, charged with unspoken desire. Chelsea felt her heart quicken. She knew she should go inside, maintain the facade of a contented wife. But she didn't move. Instead, she found herself saying, "I make a kick-ass iced tea, if you're thirsty."

Joe's grin widened, and without missing a beat, he responded, "I'm parched. I'll be right over."

The moment Joe stepped into her kitchen, the air grew electric. Chelsea poured two tall glasses of iced tea, her hands shaking slightly as she handed him one. They clinked their glasses together in a silent toast, and she took a sip, the sweetness and coolness providing a brief respite from the heat building inside her. He drank deeply, watching her over the rim, his eyes never leaving hers. The silence stretched out, a taut thread ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

"Your house is beautiful," Joe said finally, breaking the silence as he scanned the open-plan living room. "I don't think I've seen it all put together yet."

"Thank you," Chelsea replied, her eyes following the trail of condensation down the side of her glass. "It's still a work in progress, not 100% what I want, but it's coming together." She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the space, making the house feel both smaller and more alive than it had in months.

They made small talk as they walked around the house, Joe nodding and making the occasional comment about the decor, though his eyes never strayed from hers for long. The conversation grew more intimate as they sat down in the living room, the tension between them palpable. Chelsea's eyes flicked to the clock on the mantle, reminding her that she had a few hours before Terrence was due home.

"So, what's been keeping you busy?" Joe asked, setting his glass down on the coffee table.

"Coaster, please," Chelsea said with a smile, gesturing to the spot where his glass was leaving a ring. Joe's eyes followed her gesture and he chuckled, placing it on the provided coaster. "I got thrown into an image rights case last minute," she continued. "I've been in and out of court most days, so not much time for anything else."

"Sounds hectic," Joe said, leaning back into the couch, his muscular arms flexing under the fabric of his shirt. "But I'm sure you're crushing it."

"I try," Chelsea said, sipping her tea, her gaze lingering on the way his biceps bulged. "But sometimes, I wish I could just take a break from it all."

Joe leaned closer, his eyes searching hers. "What would you do if you could?"

Her breath hitched. "I don't know," she murmured. "Maybe just escape."

Joe set his glass aside and shifted closer, his knee brushing hers. "Where would you go?"

"Somewhere tropical," she said, observing the brown drink in her hand. "White sand beaches, clear water, and zero cell service. Terrence gets so antsy when he's away from work, I doubt he'd even come with me." She lifted her eyes to find Joe studying her, his expression unreadable.

"You deserve a break," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Someone should take care of you."

The words hung in the air, and Chelsea's heart raced at the implication. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. "I'm sure you're busy too, with the winery and your work."

Joe leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, it's been a grind. But sometimes, you need to make time for what's important." His hand hovered over her thigh, and she felt the warmth of his touch pressing into her skin. She didn't move away.

The room grew quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the AC and the distant sound of a lawnmower outside. Chelsea's skin prickled with anticipation as Joe's hand slid closer to her, the fabric of her shorts the only barrier. She took another sip of tea, the ice cubes clinking against the glass, the sound amplified in the tense silence.

"What do you think is important?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joe's hand stilled, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her thigh. "Well, I think taking care of yourself is pretty high on the list." His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her feel both exposed and desired. "And maybe," he paused, his smile growing, "finding someone who enjoys taking care of you too."

Chelsea's breathing grew shallower, her eyes flicking to his hand, then back to his face. She knew what he was implying, and it was both thrilling and terrifying. "We're married, Joe," she reminded him, her voice strained.

Joe shrugged, his thumb continuing its tantalizing dance. "Doesn't mean we can't take care of each other."

Chelsea's resolve was wavering, the heat of his touch spreading through her like wildfire. She set her glass down on a duplicate coaster, her hand trembling slightly. "Joe..." she began, unsure of what to say next.

He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against her ear. "No one has to know," he whispered. "We can keep it our little secret." His hand inched higher, and she could feel the heat of his palm through the material of her shorts. "Tell me you don't want this."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine a life where she could be with Joe, free from the shackles of her unfulfilling marriage. But reality crashed back down on her, and she took a deep breath, steeling herself. "We can't," she said firmly, moving his hand away. "We're married to other people, and we have to respect that."

Joe leaned back, his smile fading into a more serious expression. "I know," he said, his voice softer. "But I also know that sometimes, you need more than what you have."

Chelsea sighed, unable to deny the truth of his words. "Fuck," she whispered, feeling the weight of the unspoken agreement between them. They sat there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken desires.

Then she leaned in, her lips a breath away from his. "Fuck me," she murmured, her voice thick with need. "Here. Now."

Joe didn't need any more encouragement. He stood, pulling Chelsea to her feet, their bodies colliding in a frenzied kiss. His hands roamed her body, and she moaned into his mouth, feeling alive in a way she hadn't in years. They stumbled through the living room, knocking over a vase in their haste. Chelsea didn't care. All she could focus on was the heat of Joe's touch and the promise of the pleasure he offered.

They fell onto the couch, a tangle of limbs and need. Joe's hands were everywhere, pulling her tank top over her head and unhooking her bra with deft fingers. Chelsea's own hands were equally busy, her nails trailed down his back, feeling the power beneath his shirt. They were like starving lovers, desperate to devour each other, their clothes flying off in a frenzy of passion.

The couch creaked under their weight as Joe positioned himself over her, his erection pressing against her thigh. She wrapped her legs around him, urging him closer. His kisses grew more demanding as he kissed a trail down her neck, making her arch her back in response. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her collarbone, eliciting a gasp. The feel of his stubble against her skin was exhilarating, opposing the sleek smoothness she was used to with Terrence.

Chelsea reached down and fumbled with his athletic shorts, her heart racing. The fabric slid down his hips, revealing his hardened length concealed under his boxer briefs. She took him in her hand, stroking him gently. Joe groaned, his eyes closing as he felt her touch. His own hand found her center, and she was wet and ready for him. He teased her with his fingers, exploring her folds and finding her clit. She moaned, pushing herself into his hand, eager for more.

With a growl, Joe kissed her again, his tongue claiming her mouth as he entered her. Chelsea's eyes widened with pleasure, her body responding to him in ways it hadn't for Terrence in so long. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. The couch protested with every movement, but the sound was lost in their muffled cries and gasps. Chelsea's breasts bounced with the rhythm, her nipples tight and sensitive. Joe's eyes were locked on hers, the intensity in them making her feel like the only woman in the world.

The room spun as Chelsea moaned out at the feeling of the stretch. She raked her nails down his back, urging him on. He responded, his strokes growing more erratic and his breathing more ragged. The friction between them was electric, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She willed him closer, pulling her into her sweet heat, as if wanting to embed his skin onto hers.

"Wait, do you have a condom?" Chelsea managed to ask breathlessly, the realization hitting her like a cold shower. Joe paused, looking surprised for a moment before nodding and reaching for his discarded pants. He fished out a foil packet from his wallet and tore it open with his teeth, sliding it onto himself with an efficiency that spoke of experience.

She couldn't bring herself to think too hard about the implications of Joe carrying a condom at the ready. Instead, she focused on the feeling of him sheathing himself and sinking back into her. The sensation was exquisite, filling a void she hadn't even realized existed. They moved together, their bodies syncing in a way she had thought was reserved for movies and romance novels. The passion between them was intoxicating, the air thick with desire.

Sweat glistened on their skin as Joe picked up the pace. Chelsea's moans grew louder, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge of a climax she hadn't experienced in years. Her eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, her toes curling into the plush rug beneath them. When it finally crashed over her, she called out his name, her voice echoing in the quiet room. Joe followed shortly after, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into the latex barrier.

Chelsea's body felt like jelly as Joe pulled out and they both lay panting on the couch, their clothes in disarray. The moment of passion hovered over them like a cloud, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Chelsea's mind raced as she stared at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what they had just done. The weight of their actions settled on her shoulders, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction that coursed through her veins.

They both knew they had crossed a line, and the guilt began to creep in. Chelsea sat up, smoothing her hair before reaching down to pull her underwear back up her shapely legs. She searched Joe's eyes for a sign of what was to come, but all she found was a mirror to her own tumultuous emotions. He stood and offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. They were silent as they redressed, the sound of fabric rustling and their hearts beating loudly in the quiet.

A notification pinged, echoing through the tense space. Chelsea's phone vibrated on the coffee table, and she reached for it almost instinctively. It was a message from Terrence, checking in on her evening. The irony wasn't lost on her as she typed out a quick response, playing the role of the devoted wife. Joe leaned against the arm of the couch, watching her with a mix of satisfaction and something else she couldn't quite place. His gaze was intense, his eyes dark with lust that hadn't fully subsided.

"We should probably talk," Joe said, his voice low and serious, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room.

Chelsea's head shook from side to side, her mind racing with the gravity of their actions. "What is there to talk about?" she replied, her voice thick with emotion. "We both know this can't go anywhere. We are married, Joe."

Joe's eyes searched hers for understanding. "I know, Chelsea. But I can't ignore this connection. And I don't think you can either."

"But we have to," Chelsea insisted, her voice trembling as she tried to convince herself more than him. She knew the rules of their social circles, the expectations of their families. A scandal like this would ruin everything they'd worked so hard to build. She stepped away, creating a physical distance between them as she tried to reconstruct the walls she'd allowed to crumble.

"I don't know what your marriage is like," Joe began, his voice gentle yet firm, "but I know mine hasn't been the same in a long time." His eyes searched hers, looking for a flicker of understanding. "And something tells me you're not exactly thrilled with yours either."

Chelsea's heart thudded in her chest as she took in his words. The truth in them resonated deep within her, making it difficult to maintain her stance. She knew he wasn't wrong, but admitting it aloud was another matter entirely. "It's complicated," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just throw away everything I have with Terrence."

Joe nodded, his expression understanding. "I'm not asking you to," he assured her. "But I'm also not going to pretend that what just happened didn't mean something." He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush her palm to her warm cheek. "I want to see you again, Chelsea. I want to explore this—whatever it is—between us."

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to lean into it. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of their situation pressing down on her. When she opened them, she found Joe's gaze still fixed on her, filled with a determination that she hadn't seen before. "Joe, we can't," she said, her voice a barely-there whisper. "This isn't right."

"I know," Joe replied, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. "But sometimes, things that aren't right feel incredibly right." His hand dropped, and he took a step back, giving her the space she needed to breathe. "Look, I'm not asking you to leave Terrence or for us to run away together. But we both know we can't keep pretending we don't feel something. If we can find a way to do this without hurting anyone, I think we owe it to ourselves to see where it goes."

Chelsea took a deep breath, her mind racing. The thought of being with Joe, of feeling alive again in a way she hadn't in years, was tempting beyond measure. But she was also a woman of integrity, and the thought of deceiving her husband and new friend was unbearable. She searched Joe's eyes, looking for any hint of doubt or insincerity. What she found instead was a man who was lost, just as she was, seeking solace in a connection that transcended their stagnant marriages.

"I think you should leave," Chelsea said finally, her voice trembling with the effort it took to keep her emotions in check. "I'm sorry, Joe, but we can't do this again. It's not fair to either of them."

Joe nodded, his expression a mix of understanding and disappointment. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Okay," he murmured, "but you know where to find me if you change your mind." With a sigh, he pulled back, collected himself, and walked out the door. For a moment she watched him go, the ache in her chest growing with every step he took.

The days that followed were a tumultuous blend of guilt and longing. Chelsea threw herself into her work, burying herself in contracts and negotiations to keep her mind off Joe. But every time she saw his car pull into the driveway next door, her resolve wavered. The memory of their illicit encounter burned into her every thought, tempting her to abandon caution and explore the depths of their shared desire.

Terrence was increasingly more absent, a side effect of his new position that required frequent travel and long hours. Chelsea's mind wandered to Joe during the lonely nights, the quiet house a punishing reminder of the void in her life. Her fantasies grew more daring with each passing day, and she found herself craving the thrill of their clandestine meeting. She could practically smell Joe's cologne still. It was dark, musky, and filled her with a hunger that she had never felt with Terrence.

Work proved to be the only respite from the chaotic whirlwind of emotions Chelsea felt. Each day at the office was a battle to keep her thoughts from drifting to Joe, the way his eyes had lit up when they talked, the warmth of his touch, and the raw passion that had overtaken them that night. Her interactions with Gianna had become that much more painful, knowing she was hiding such a massive secret from her friend. The weight of their affair grew heavier with every shared smile or casual wave between their houses.

Chelsea couldn't help the scoff that escaped her as she read through the loophole-ridden contract displayed on her computer screen. The office had been buzzing as usual, the Monday morning rush bringing in a wave of new cases and clients. With Terrence being so busy with his new role, she had logged more hours in, catching the attention of a senior partner at the firm. He had, not so subtly, hinted at a promotion to junior partner on the horizon if she kept up her current pace.

So she dove head first into her work, the pile of legal documents becoming a welcome distraction from the tempest of guilt and desire that swirled within her. Her days grew longer, her nights lonelier, and with each passing hour, the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble.

Months ago she had known things with Terrence had grown stale, but now, with Joe's presence a constant reminder of what she was missing, the cracks in their marriage had become a chasm. The weight of her secret grew heavier with every encounter, yet she couldn't bring herself to confess.

Part of her knew that she was reluctant to confess because she was holding onto a bit of hope that things would change. That the infatuation she once held for the older, charming medical student would return. That the man who had swept her off her feet and promised her the world would remember that they had once been each other's everything. But with each passing day, she realized that hope was fading into the shadows of her reality.

If she was being honest with herself, the most disheartening part of her marriage was the fact that she couldn't tell if Terrence had noticed the change in her. His work kept him away more and more, and when he was home, it was as if he couldn't be bothered to see her, blind to the tumultuous emotions she wrestled with.

Maybe it hurt her so much because she knew he wasn't entirely oblivious. There were moments when she'd catch him looking at her with a hint of longing in his eyes, as if he knew she was slipping away but was too proud to ask why. There were others still when he would attempt to reconnect with her, hinting at their former passion with gentle touches and whispers. But it was only ever through sex that he seemed to try to bridge the gap between them, and even that had grown mechanical and forced.

The ringing of the office phone cut through her focus and Chelsea found herself eager to escape the claustrophobic walls of her thoughts. The caller ID revealed the incoming call from the reception's desk. "This is Chelsea Brooks," she answered in her professional tone, hoping it was a new client or an emergency that could occupy her mind and free her from the spiraling thoughts of her personal life.

The receptionist's voice was smooth, unknowing even, "Mrs. Brooks, there's a Mr. Joe Burrow here to see you. He said it's important and that he won't take up much of your time."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. She had told Joe to stay away, yet here he was, barging into her workplace like he had every right to be there. "Tell him I'm busy," she instructed firmly, trying to keep her cool.

The receptionist's voice returned a moment later, "Mr. Burrow insists it's urgent, Mrs. Brooks. He says he'll wait if you're busy."

Chelsea sighed, her hand tightening around the phone. She couldn't risk a scene at work. Not with Joe. "Send him in," she said, resigned to the inevitable.

Joe entered her office with the same confidence he had that day in her kitchen, his tall frame and broad shoulders seemingly swallowing the space. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her squirm in her chair. His tailored suit hugged his body in all the right places, reminding her of the power she felt when he was inside her.

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

Chelsea took a deep breath, her mind racing with a hundred different ways to tell him that this couldn't continue. She had to end it before it destroyed everything she had worked so hard to build. "Joe, what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.

He stepped closer to her desk, his eyes glued to hers. "Chelsea, I can't stop thinking about you," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

Her chest tightened. She knew she should be firm, but the raw desire in his words made it difficult. "Joe, we agreed..." she started, but he cut her off.

"I know what we agreed," he said, his voice gruff with passion. "But I can't help it. When I see you with Terrence, it kills me. You deserve more than what he's giving you."

Chelsea felt the heat of his words, the truth of them burning through her resolve like a hot knife through butter. She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to respond. "What about Gianna? Do you think this is what she deserves? For you to be here, showing up at my office, telling me you can't stop thinking about me?"

Joe took a step closer, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. "Gianna and I have our own issues, Chelsea. You know that. And I don't expect you to fix them. But I can't ignore what we have either. I can't let this go without knowing if there's something more to it."

Chelsea felt the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his body invading her space. The smell of his cologne, so different from Terrence's, was intoxicating. She wanted to lean into it, to let him take her again. But she knew she couldn't. Not here. Not now. "Joe, please," she whispered, her voice a plea for sanity. "Don't make it harder on me than it already is."

He stepped back, his expression softening. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice a mix of regret and apology. "I didn't mean to pressure you. I just..." He trailed off, his hand raking through his hair. "I miss you."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all she saw was raw need. She stood up, the need to keep distance between them overwhelming. "Miss me?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. "Joe, we can't. We're married to other people."

Joe stepped closer, his hand reaching out to her. "I know, I know," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But we can't ignore this either." His hand grazed her arm, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. "I need to feel you again, Chelsea."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt or regret, but all she found was a deep, burning passion that mirrored her own. The room felt smaller, the air charged with a tension that was palpable. The sound of her own breathing was loud in her ears, her pulse racing with every beat.

"You don't have to give me an answer right now. But Gianna's in Europe filming for the rest of the week, and I'd like to talk, really talk, over dinner. Just us," Joe said, his voice low and urgent. "Swing by around 8, I'll cook. It'll just be us, no expectations, no pressure."

Chelsea hesitated, Joe's gaze holding hers. The room seemed to spin around them, and for a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the world. She knew she should say no, that she should put a stop to this dangerous dance before it spiraled out of control. But the memory of his touch, the way he made her feel alive, was too strong.

As she opened her mouth to speak, Joe stepped back, giving her space. "Think about it," he said gently. "I'll be waiting for you, whether you come tonight or not."

The rest of the day was a blur for Chelsea. Her mind raced with thoughts of Joe, their passionate encounters, and the life she had built with Terrence. She tried to focus on work, but her mind kept wandering. She knew that going to Joe's tonight was playing with fire, but she also knew that she was already burned. The flame between them had never truly been extinguished, and she was drawn to it like a moth to a candle.

When 8 PM rolled around, Chelsea found herself standing in front of Joe's house, her hand hovering over the doorbell. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. This was wrong, she thought. But then she remembered the emptiness she felt in her marriage, the lack of connection with Terrence, and the way Joe looked at her - like she was the only person in the world that mattered. She pushed the button and waited, her heart hammering in her chest. No going back now.

Joe answered the door, looking surprised yet pleased to see her. He was dressed casually, his shirt sleeves rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms. Chelsea felt a warmth spread through her body as she took in the sight of him. "I wasn't sure you'd come," he said, stepping aside to let her in. The house was filled with the aroma of something delicious cooking, and Chelsea's stomach rumbled in response.

They sat in the cozy dining room, the candlelight flickering across their faces. The dinner was simple yet exquisite, a far cry from the fancy meals they'd shared before. As they ate, Chelsea felt a sense of ease she hadn't experienced in months, a comfort that was intoxicating. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on their hopes, fears, and the paths that had led them to this moment.

For the first time in a long time, she laughed—truly laughed—at a man's jokes. The candlelight danced in Joe's eyes as he told her a story from his college days when he played quarterback for the Ohio State University before giving it all up to support Gianna's culinary dreams. But as the night grew later, the conversation grew heavier, and the weight of their situation settled on the room.

"Why do you stay with him?" Joe asked, his voice low and intense. The question hung in the air like the last note of a heartbreaking melody. Chelsea looked down at her plate, her appetite lost amidst the swirl of emotions. She knew he was referring to Terrence, but the question was more about her than her husband. She took a sip of wine, buying time to formulate a response.

"Because it's what's expected," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "My family, Terrence's family... they've all imposed their idea of what our marriage should look like to be perfect." She paused, looking into Joe's eyes, searching for understanding. "And what we have... on paper, it is perfect. Successful careers, a beautiful home, the potential to have beautiful, intelligent children." She paused again, her voice thickening with emotion. "When I first met him, I just knew that we'd be here. I knew that I had to marry him. Because he was exactly what was expected of me, you know? From a good family, studying to be a neurosurgeon, it was all so destined. I couldn't say no."

Joe reached across the table, placing his hand on hers. His touch sent a jolt through her, a reminder of the passion that had been missing from her life for so long. "I gave up a lot to marry Gianna. My dreams, my career... all for her restaurant. With the show, it's like we're back in high school again. Everyone loves us, everyone thinks we're the perfect couple." He squeezed her hand gently. "But it's all just an act. I can't remember the last time we talked about anything real. Anything that wasn't about the restaurant or her show."

Chelsea felt a pang of guilt, recognizing the echo of her own discontent in Joe's words. "So why do you stay?" she asked, repeating his question from earlier.

Joe's gaze drifted to the floor, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly at the skin on her hand. "Honestly, I don't know what the alternative is," he said, his voice thick with unspoken pain. "We broke up for a year when we were in college because of my football dreams, and she was so angry with me. Our moms, they were devastated. They’ve had our lives planned out since we started dating in high school."

Chelsea nodded, her own heart aching for him.

"I've spent my whole adult life making Gianna happy," Joe continued, his eyes returning to meet hers. "I gave up football. I make appearances on her show. I work in finance because it helps keep her restaurant afloat. And now..." He trailed off, his voice heavy with the weight of his thoughts. "Some days I can't even tell if we're together because we truly love each other or because we're afraid of what everyone else would say."

Chelsea felt a knot in her stomach tighten. She knew the feeling all too well. Her own marriage had become a performance, a dance of appearances and expectations. "It's like you're trapped with no way out," she murmured, her voice filled with a sadness she hadn't realized she felt.

They sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air. Chelsea knew that she should pull her hand away, stand up, and leave. But she didn't. Instead, she leaned closer to Joe, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You wanna know something really fucked up?" Chelsea said, her voice laced with a mix of anger and desperation. Joe nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Sometimes, when I'm with Terrence, all I can think about is you. How you make me feel, the way you touch me, the way you look at me." She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. "And then I hate myself for it. I'm supposed to love him, to only think about him, to only want him. But I can't."

Joe leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers. "You don't have to justify how you feel, Chelsea," he murmured. "Gigi and I have been married for 11 years, and I feel like she barely knows me. But when you showed up on my doorstep, it was like the wind got knocked out of me. You're all I think about."

Their faces were so close that Chelsea could feel the warmth of his breath. "I don't want to hurt anyone," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "But I don't know how to stop wanting this."

Joe reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he said softly. "But we can't keep pretending."

Their eyes held for a moment longer before Joe leaned in and kissed her, gentle but urgent. Chelsea's body responded immediately, her hand curling into his shirt as she pulled him closer. The kiss grew deeper, their tongues dancing together as the heat between them ignited once more.

"Damn," Joe hissed under his breath, his hands holding Chelsea's face in his hands. His thumbs traced the line of her jaw as they broke the kiss, both of them panting. "I want you so badly."

"I know," she replied, her voice a ragged whisper. "This sucks."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions thick in the air. Chelsea's heart pounded in her chest, the guilt she'd been feeling for months now mixed with something new—relief. It felt like a dam had burst, releasing all the pent-up emotion she'd been holding onto.

"So what do we do now?" Joe asked, his voice hoarse.

Chelsea looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion and desire. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I guess we have to figure out where this goes. If we can keep it just between us. Just for the time being."

Joe nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. "Okay," he said. "But I need to tell you something." He took a deep breath, his gaze intense. "I'm falling for you, Chelsea. I'm falling for you so hard, I'm gonna do something stupid if I can't have you."

Chelsea's stomach flipped. She didn't know what to say. Her heart raced, torn between the love she had for Terrence and the fiery passion she felt for Joe. She took a moment, looking into his eyes, searching for answers. Finally, she spoke. "So have me."

The words hung in the air, and Joe leaned in again, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss. His hands roamed down her body, pulling her closer until she was straddling him on the dining room chair. Chelsea moaned into his mouth, the sound echoing through the quiet house. They were lost in each other, their bodies moving in a dance of passion that had been building for so long.

As they kissed, their hands explored, pulling at clothes and unbuckling belts. The air was electric with tension, and the smell of their arousal filled the room. They managed to undress, Joe again reaching into his back pocket to retrieve a condom. They didn't bother moving to the couch this time; the chair was as good as anywhere. Chelsea wrapped her legs around him, and Joe pushed into her, both moaning desperately into each other's mouths.

The sex was raw and unbridled, fueled by their months of repressed desire. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through Chelsea's body, and she could feel Joe's need growing more intense with every second. They moved together, their bodies in perfect sync, as if they'd been doing this for years. Joe gripped her hips tightly, guiding her movements, her hands tugged at his dark blonde hair, her nails digging into his scalp. There should have been a hint of shame in the way they were acting, but all Chelsea felt was a fierce craving that only Joe could satisfy.

The chair creaked under their weight, a symphony of passionate sounds that filled the room. Chelsea's moans grew louder, and she threw her head back, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Joe's eyes locked onto hers, and she felt a mix of power and vulnerability. They were risking everything for this fleeting moment, but neither of them could bring themselves to care. The pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming.

As their pace grew frantic, Chelsea felt the familiar tightness in her core that signaled an approaching climax. She bit down on Joe's shoulder to muffle her cries, her nails digging deeper into his skin. He grunted in response, his hands pressing harsh marks into her skin, as if he was trying to imprint every detail of this moment into his mind. The tension grew, coiling tightly inside her until she couldn't hold back any longer. She came hard, her body shuddering around him, and Joe followed soon after, burying his face in her neck and groaning out his release.

They remained intertwined, panting and trembling, for several moments. Unlike the first time, however, Chelsea allowed herself to bask in the afterglow. Joe's arms were strong and warm around her, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that soothed her racing heart. She leaned into him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, feeling the sticky warmth of their combined sweat. The guilt was still there, lurking at the edges of her mind, but it was dulled by the overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

Joe eventually pulled out, and they both stood, his hands reaching for her in an effort to redress her, his touch gentle yet still searing into her skin. Chelsea felt a strange mix of emotions: excitement, fear, and a deep-seated longing for more of what they had just shared. She allowed him to fix her clothes, her eyes watching his strong features, searching for any sign of regret or hesitation. But Joe's gaze remained steady, filled with a tenderness that she hadn't seen from Terrence in a long time.

"Thank you," Chelsea murmured as Joe tucked her shirt back into her pants, his hands lingering for a brief moment longer than necessary. The words felt strange in her mouth, a blend of gratitude and apology for what they had just done. He nodded, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip before dropping away.

They stepped out of the dining room, the air thick with their combined scents of arousal and the faint aroma of their lunch. Joe walked her to the door, his hand resting on the small of her back. As he opened it, Chelsea took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. The sun had set, casting a soft glow over the neighborhood. The sight of the quiet, suburban street was a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions raging within her.

"Wait," Joe said suddenly, his hand on her arm as she stepped onto the porch. "Come here. Gimme a kiss."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat, but she couldn't resist. She leaned in, her body colliding with his, and kissed him with the same passion that had just consumed them. It was a kiss that spoke of all the things they hadn't yet said out loud—their magnetism, their fear, and the understanding that there was no going back.

As they parted, Joe whispered, "I'll see you soon, okay?" His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she nodded, not trusting her voice to respond. With one final squeeze of her hand, he stepped back, allowing her to leave. Chelsea walked home, her mind racing with thoughts of Joe and what had just transpired. She knew that she couldn't continue down this path without consequences, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was already lost in it.

That evening, as Terrence returned from work, Chelsea tried to slip back into her position, fixing dinner and asking about his day. But every time she glanced at him, she saw Joe's face, heard his voice, felt his touch. The guilt was a heavy weight that she couldn't ignore, and she wondered if it would ever get easier. Terrence seemed oblivious, his eyes lighting up when she asked him about his surgeries and consultations, hoping it would keep him talking, and keep her from thinking about the man next door.

The next two months passed in a blur of work, stolen moments, secret lunch dates, and heated exchanges between Chelsea and Joe. Each time they saw each other, the tension grew thicker, a palpable electricity that neither could ignore. Chelsea found herself looking forward to the nights when Terrence was at the hospital, the quiet house providing the perfect cover for their clandestine meetings. They tried to keep things casual, but every touch, every whispered word, felt like a declaration of something much deeper.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the neighborhood, Chelsea received a text from Joe. "Can you come over?" it read. She felt a thrill of excitement and a stab of guilt. She knew she should say no, that she needed to end this before it spun further out of control, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Terrence was away, again, off to San Francisco for a medical conference, leaving her with an empty house and an empty bed.

Chelsea slipped into something less than business casual, opting for a short, floral sundress that hugged her curves in all the right places. She knew Joe liked it—he had told her so the last time they were together. With a quick spritz of perfume and a final look in the mirror, she stepped out of her house and into the mild summer evening. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of the Chen's grandchildren running around in their backyard. She walked over to Joe's, her heart racing with every step.

When she arrived, he greeted her at the door with a smoldering look that sent her stomach into a frenzy. His tie was loosened, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, showing a hint of the warm skin she had come to yearn for when she was away from him. "You look gorgeous," he murmured, pulling her into a kiss that was anything but friendly. Chelsea melted into him, letting his arms wrap around her and his hands roam her body. They stumbled into the living room, their kisses growing more desperate, as if they hadn't seen each other in years rather than mere days.

The dinner they had planned remained untouched, forgotten in the face of their overwhelming need for each other. They made their way upstairs, shedding their clothes along the way, leaving a trail of fabric that whispered their secrets through the quiet house. In the guest bedroom, Joe's large hands turned her around to face the mirror, pressing her against him as he kissed her neck. Chelsea could see their reflection, their bodies entwined, and the desire in their eyes as Joe's hands cupped her breasts, teasing her already hard nipples.

"I love watching you," Joe growled in her ear as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck. Chelsea's breath hitched as his hands slid down her waist and around to the zipper of her dress. She felt the heat of his arousal pressing against her, and she knew that she wanted him just as badly. They had been playing this dangerous game for months now, and the thrill of it had only grown stronger.

"You're so down bad, Joey," Chelsea teased, her voice breathless as she reached behind her to run her fingers through his hair. He smirked in the mirror, his eyes dark with need. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over their bodies.

"Call me that again," Joe responded playfully, his hand slipping down to her ass and giving it a firm squeeze. Chelsea giggled, the sound a stark contrast to the heavy lust in the air.

"Joey?" Chelsea repeated with a grin, watching his expression in the mirror. "Is that what you want, baby?" She could feel his body tense with every word, his grip tightening slightly. "Want me to call you cute little names?"

"Chelsea," Joe groaned, his voice strained with restraint as he shook his head, blue eyes squeezing shut in concentration. "What do you want to call me?"

Chelsea leaned back into him, her eyes locked on their reflection. "Joey. Baby. Mine." The last word was a whisper, but it held the weight of their unspoken truth. He audibly swallowed, his hands moving to unzip her dress, letting it pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, leaving her in nothing but a matching set of skimpy, lace lingerie.

"Want me to be yours?" Joe murmured into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She giggled, spinning around to face him. "I want a lot of things," she said, her voice low and seductive. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a deep, lingering kiss. His hands slid over her body, exploring every inch of her soft curves, as they kissed with an urgency that had been building for months.

The room was filled with the sound of their breathless whispers and the rustling of clothing as they undressed each other. The tension was palpable, a heady mix of excitement and guilt that only made the moment feel more forbidden and exhilarating. They tumbled onto the bed, their bodies entangled as they explored each other with hungry kisses and roaming hands. Chelsea felt alive in a way she hadn't in years, her skin tingling with every touch from Joe's rough, calloused hands.

"Get on your stomach, face the mirror, baby," Joe ordered, his voice thick with desire. Chelsea's heart skipped a beat as she obeyed, the coolness of the silk sheets against her skin making her shiver. Joe's strong hands gripped her hips, positioning her just right so that she could see their reflection in the full-length mirror. He slid into her from behind, their eyes locking as he began to thrust, slow and deep.

One hand steadied himself on the curve where her back met her ass, the other hand gripping the plush of her hip. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and completely owned in the best way possible. Each thrust was a declaration of his possession, a silent shout of possession echoing in the quiet room. Her cheek pressed into the cool silk as she watched their reflection. He looked so commanding, so powerful, and she looked blissed out of her mind. Her eyes met his in the mirror, the blue of his burning into hers, and she could see the raw hunger there. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"Tell me you want this," Joe murmured in her ear, his breath hot and uneven. "Say it."

"I want this," Chelsea whispered, the words escaping her in a rush. "I want you."

Joe's eyes darkened, a smoldering intensity in his gaze that made Chelsea's knees wobble. He leaned over her, a thumb reaching underneath to tease her clit as he whispered, "Say it louder."

With a gasp, Chelsea's voice grew stronger, "I want you, Joe."

The room seemed to vibrate with the weight of her admission, the words echoing through the silent house like a confession whispered in a hallowed space. Joe's hand slipped away from her throbbing core, his touch replaced by the coolness of the air. He leaned back on his heels, pulling Chelsea up with him so she was fully exposed in front of the mirror, her body quivering with need. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. She could feel his arousal leaking into the condom, warming her insides as he pushed into her, setting a rhythm that mirrored the erratic beat of her heart.

Their eyes locked in the reflection, a silent dance of passion and power that neither could deny. Chelsea's hands gripped his forearms as Joe's hands roamed her body, teasing her nipples, pressing into her needy clit. Her moans grew louder, filling the room as Joe's strokes grew more demanding. She felt the tension coiling in her belly, her orgasm approaching, unstoppable and exhilarating.

"Fuck," she breathed, her voice a mix of pleasure and surprise. "You make me feel so good, baby. So, so good."

Joe's grip tightened on her hips, his movements growing more erratic as he neared his own release. "You're fuckin' everything to me, Chelsea," he grunted, his voice strained. "Look at yourself. Look at us."

Chelsea's eyes remained glued to the mirror, watching Joe's face contort with pleasure as he claimed her body. His words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of euphoria and trepidation. This wasn't just a casual fling anymore; it was love wrapped in a dark, illicit embrace. They climaxed together, their bodies trembling and skin slick with sweat.

They collapsed onto the bed, both trying to catch their breaths, their hearts beating in a chaotic symphony. The silence was deafening, filled with the weight of their shared secret. Joe leaned back, his chest heaving, and for a moment, Chelsea allowed herself to believe that this was real, that they could somehow make this work.

"How do you manage to do that?" Chelsea panted, rolling onto her side to face Joe. "Every single time."

Joe smirked, tracing a finger along her jawline. "It's all you, darling," he said, his voice smoky. "You do this to me. You come around me and suddenly I'm like a man who hasn't had water in days."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, looking for a hint of regret or doubt, but she only found hunger and adoration. It was intoxicating, a feeling she hadn't experienced with Terrence in a long time. The guilt of their infidelity was a constant presence, but in the throes of passion, it was a distant echo. They lay there, their bodies entwined, basking in the aftermath of their love-making. The scent of their desire lingered in the air, a tangible reminder of their connection.

They tore away from each other reluctantly, Chelsea needing to make a quick run to pick up dinner before Terrence returned from his shift. As she slipped into her clothes, Joe watched her with a sense of longing that made her heart ache. They'd agreed to keep this between them, but the cracks in their façade were starting to show.

"I'll text you later," Chelsea murmured, kissing him softly before slipping out the door. The pout on his lips almost drew her back in, his blue eyes clouded over with sadness as she left. She stepped into the cool evening air, trying to ignore the feeling that she was leaving a part of herself behind.

Her mind raced as she drove to a local Italian spot. How had it come to this? She'd never been the type to cheat, had never even thought about it. Yet here she was, carrying the weight of a love affair she didn't know how to end. Her phone buzzed with a message from Joe, a simple "I miss you already," that sent a warmth through her chest she hadn't felt in years. She replied with, "I'll see you soon. Promise," and forced herself to focus on the mundane task of picking up dinner.

When she got home, Terrence was already there, the smell of antiseptic lingering. He greeted her with a squeeze to her arm and took the bag of food from her hand. As they sat down to eat, that pesky sense of apathy spread through her chest. She didn't want to be here, with him, going through the motions of a loveless marriage. Her thoughts drifted back to Joe, and she felt a pang of regret for what she'd left behind.

"Did you hear me?" Terrence's voice pulled Chelsea back to reality. He was looking at her expectantly, a question hanging in the air. She realized she'd been lost in thought, her eyes glazed over, staring into the distance.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" she replied, snapping out of her Joe-induced trance.

Terrence raised an eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of concern and annoyance. "I don't know why I bother sometimes," he muttered under his breath. "I said I might be promoted to head of the Neurosurgery department. It's longer hours, but that's why we moved here. So we can both achieve our dreams."

Chelsea's eyebrows furrowed, an unsavory sense of irony coating her tongue as she responded, "More hours? Terrence you worked 90 hours last week, how many more can you possibly take on?"

"It's what I have to do to be the best," he said, noticing the weariness in her voice. "What about you? Any big cases coming up?"

"Don't change the subject on me, Terrence. How effective could you possibly be when you're working almost 100 hours a week?" Chelsea retorted, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation. She had been trying to bring this up for months, but he always had a new excuse or a new goal to pursue. She was never her husband's priority.

Terrence sighed heavily, his eyes searching hers for a brief moment before he turned away to grab a beer from the fridge. "You know I have to make my mark," he said, his back to her. "It takes hard work to be the best."

Chelsea felt a knot form in her stomach as she watched him, the coldness in her marriage starkly highlighted against the heat of her secret affair with Joe. "Yeah, I know," she murmured, trying to push down the resentment bubbling up. "But you're never home. You don't eat well, you don't sleep enough, and you're always stressed. That's not good for you and it's not good for your patients. What's the point of being the best if you can't even enjoy it?"

Terrence paused, his hand hovering over the fridge handle. He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "You don't get it, do you, Chelsea?" he said finally. "This isn't just about me. It's about our legacy, what we leave behind."

Chelsea rolled her eyes, feeling a surge of anger. "Oh, please. Legacy, huh? You know what our legacy is looking like right now? A tired, burnt-out doctor with a lonely, lawyer wife. Is that really what you want?" Terrence didn't answer, instead popping the cap on his beer and taking a long gulp.

"Does everything have to be about you, Chelsea?" Terrence said, his voice tight with frustration. "If you had a real, life or death job, maybe you'd understand. But you go drinking with celebrities and throw parties when someone signs their name on a dotted line. You don't know what real work is, Chelsea."

The room grew colder with each word, and Chelsea felt a sting of anger. She had worked hard to get where she was in the field, and she wasn't about to let him belittle her. "I'll tell you what's real work," she shot back, her voice rising. "It's trying to keep a marriage afloat when my husband is more in love with his career than he is with me. It's real work pretending to be satisfied with a man who can't even bother to make time for me! It's real work covering for you when your mother calls me every afternoon asking why you haven't spoken to her in a month!"

Terrence slammed the beer bottle on the counter, the sound echoing through the kitchen. "You think this is easy for me?" he yelled. "I'm trying to make a difference here, trying to be more than just another man with a fancy title! I'm doing this for you, Chelsea. For us!"

Chelsea's eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer to him. "Don't you dare say you're doing this for us. You're doing this for yourself and your ego! You haven't thought of me since we left our honeymoon. As a matter of fact, Terrence, tell me something. What's the name of my firm?"

Terrence's jaw tightened as he stared at her, unable to answer. The silence between them was deafening.

Chelsea took a deep breath, her chest heaving as her eyes began to cloud with tears. "Do you know what's pathetic?" she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "It's that I can't even be mad at you for not knowing the name of my firm. Because I've become so used to being second best in your eyes. I've accepted that your work comes first. That your success has to come at the cost of our marriage."

Terrence looked at her, his expression a mix of shock and pain. "Chelsea," he started, reaching out to touch her arm.

"Don't," she said, jerking away. "Don't touch me." She turned away from him, her eyes landing on the fridge, where their wedding photo stared back at her. They looked so happy then, so full of hope and promise. Now, it felt like a lie.

Terrence's silence was deafening as he took in her words. He knew she was unhappy, but he had always thought it was just a phase. That her passion would return once the dust of their new life in Cincinnati had settled. But now, hearing it laid out so starkly, he was forced to confront the truth.

"Chelsea," he finally managed, his voice thick with regret. "You know I love you. You're everything to me."

"No, I'm not, Terrence." she said firmly, her voice steadying. "If I was, you'd know what I do for a living. You'd know that my work isn't 'drinking with celebrities', you'd know that I was just going through the motions. That every day feels like I'm drowning in a sea of your ambition."

He took a step towards her, but she held up her hand. "Don't. You don't get to fix this with your charm. This isn't just about tonight."

Terrence stopped in his tracks, the weight of his wife's words sinking in. "If that's what you think of me, what could I possibly do to change your mind, huh? After everything I've given you?"

Chelsea faced him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm not doing this with you, Terrence. After a full day of drinking with celebrities, I'm exhausted." Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she turned on her heels and stomped out of the kitchen, leaving Terrence standing there, feeling more lost than ever before.

The days that followed were tense and fraught with unspoken tension. Terrence tried to make amends, bringing her flowers—notably, the wrong ones—and making grand romantic gestures, but Chelsea remained distant, her heart and mind elsewhere. Her thoughts swirled with Joe's touch, his whispers, and the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the world that mattered. At work, she threw herself into her cases, finding refuge in the cutthroat world where the only battles she could control were the ones she waged on paper.

When Terrence announced that Joe invited him, and a few of the other guys in the neighborhood, to go golfing the next weekend, Chelsea couldn't even bring herself to care.

The day of the golf trip dawned bright and early. Terrence was practically bouncing out the door, eager to bond with his new neighbor and escape the suffocating silence that had settled over their marriage. Chelsea watched him go with a mix of resentment and relief. As the door clicked shut behind him, she felt the weight of their unresolved issues crash down on her, but she quickly shoved the thoughts aside, focusing instead on her plans to spend the day with her friends, popcorn and wine.

The green of the gold course stretched out before them, the crisp spring air carrying the faint scent of freshly trimmed grass. Terrence felt a strange sense of relief as he swung his club, sending the small white ball soaring into the sky. The conversation between the men was light, mostly about their jobs and the neighborhood gossip. Joe was completely carefree, his Cartier sunglasses reflecting the sun's rays. Terrence couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at how relaxed he looked, especially knowing that Joe's job required so much less of him than his own demanding career.

"Chelsea's been on my ass about my hours this past week," Terrence complained, taking a sip from his water bottle as they approached the next hole. "It's like she thinks I don't give a shit about our marriage."

Joe's grip tightened around his golf club, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Well, you know what they say, work is the best form of birth control," he quipped, watching Terrence's face fall. "But in all seriousness, man, marriage isn't easy. Sometimes you've got to make sacrifices for the girl you love."

Terrence nodded, his mind racing with thoughts of Chelsea. "Yeah, I know. I just... I don't know. The last time we had sex, she straight up couldn't orgasm. It's like she's not even into it anymore." He took a swing, the ball soaring through the air in a perfect arc before landing on the green.

Bryan, one of the other golfers, chuckled cruelly. "Maybe she's taking care of herself, man." The lewd remark hung in the air, gaining a few snickers from the group.

Terrence shook his head grumbling, "Chelsea? Nah, she's too... I don't know, too classy for that." He took a deep breath and downed the rest of his water, reaching in the cooler for a beer instead.

Joe felt a strange mix of guilt and triumph at Terrence's words. "Classy or not, everyone has needs," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. Inside, his mind reeled with the memory of Chelsea's cries of pleasure just a few nights ago. He knew all too well the passion she kept hidden from her husband.

"See, if that was me, Chelsea wouldn't be able to think about leaving the bedroom. They'd have to do a wellness check on her to see if she was alright," Chris, another one of the golfers, chimed in, slapping Terrence on the back.

Terrence's eyes narrowed slightly, the conversation suddenly taking a turn he wasn't expecting. "I know, I know." He took a sip of his beer. "We used to be like that when Chelsea was in college." He chuckled, but Joe didn't miss the hint of sadness in his voice. It was the same sadness Chelsea had confessed to feeling in their own relationship.

"Maybe it's just stress," Joe offered, trying to keep his tone light despite the dark thoughts swirling in his head. "The move, the new job, all that can really mess with someone's head." He knew it wasn't just stress. He had felt it in her touch, heard it in her moans when they were together. The desperation and craving for something more.

"Personally, I don't think I've ever seen you even think about tapping that ass," Bryan, one of Terrence's golfing buddies, chimed in, nudging Terrence with a laugh. "Not even a kiss. Terrence, you gotta do better."

Joe's jaw clenched, the comment hitting too close to home. He shot a warning glare at Bryan, who shrugged it off, oblivious to the tension he had just stirred up. Chris, the more foul-mouthed of the two spoke up again, "I'm telling you, if she was mine, she'd be begging for it every night."

Terrence's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he replied, "Alright, alright. Remember this is my wife we're talkin' about? Joe, you got any advice? Gianna's always skipping around all happy, I'm sure you've got some moves."

Joe's heart thumped in his chest. He felt like he was being goaded, and his mind raced with the desire to reveal all. Instead, he took a deep breath and replied, "Nah, man. I've only ever been with Gianna long-term, so I wouldn't know what to tell you." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he knew the truth was too explosive to share.

The golf game continued, but Joe's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't help but think of the times Chelsea had whispered sweet nothings in his ear, her nails digging into his skin as she climaxed. The way she looked at him with a mix of adoration and hunger was something Terrence would never know. Despite the guilt, Joe felt alive in a way he hadn't in years.

Back at the office, Chelsea was busy wrapping up a case when her phone buzzed with a text from Joe. "You have fans," it read. She raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding the context. He followed up with a, "Your husband's golf buddies talked about you a lot today." A chill ran down her spine, and she felt a strange mix of anger and arousal. She texted back, "What did they say?"

Joe's response was succinct. "Doesn't matter. They'll never get to hear your pretty voice moan for my cock." The possessive undertone was unmistakable, sending a jolt of excitement through Chelsea's body. She quickly put her phone away, trying to compose herself before her colleagues noticed her flustered state. She was torn between the thrill of Joe's claim and the fear of their secret being exposed.

Chelsea stepped out of her downtown office building, the cool breeze of Cincinnati's early autumn brushing against her cheeks. The scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery across the street filled her nose, momentarily distracting her from the mountain of work emails waiting for her attention. She took a deep breath, letting the aroma mingle with the exhaust from the passing cars. It was a peculiar blend, but somehow Cincinnati was starting to feel more and more like home.

Though she was sure Joe had a lot to do with that, Chelsea couldn't ignore the comfort she felt when she thought of the city now. The two of them had been sneaking around for nearly five months, finding moments of stolen intimacy amidst their chaotic schedules. They had become experts at choosing the most discreet locations, the quietest times of the day, and the most unassuming town cars to keep their affair under wraps. As she walked towards their usual spot, a cozy Italian restaurant tucked away from prying eyes, Chelsea felt her heart race in anticipation of their lunch date.

Once a week, Chelsea and Joe met for lunch at the Italian restaurant. The hostess knew them by name and always reserved the same booth at the back, the one with the slightly faded red velvet seats that had seen better days but somehow added to the intimate charm of their secret rendezvous. The restaurant was typically empty this time of day, with a disinterested college student working the register and a tired-looking, middle aged chef peeking out from the kitchen. A soft murmur of Italian jazz would play, providing a backdrop to their stolen conversations. By this point, Chelsea knew the rotation of songs almost by heart.

Joe was already waiting, his tall frame bent slightly over the menu he always pretended to need to read. He was stubborn, alternating between his usual Margherita pizza and the chicken parmesan sandwich, but Chelsea knew he had it all memorized by heart. She slid into the booth opposite him, her eyes lingering on the strong line of his jaw, the way his tie was just loose enough to show a hint of the collarbone she was sure had a fading love bite where the bone met his shoulder.

"Hey, you," Joe said, looking up with a smile that never failed to make her stomach flutter.

Chelsea returned his smile, sliding the menu aside as she delicately placed her purse on the seat beside her. "Hi," she whispered, her voice soft and warm. "How was your morning?"

Joe leaned back, his eyes scanning the room to ensure no one of importance was within earshot. "The same as always," he replied with a hint of weariness. "Just trying to keep up with the numbers and the egos."

Chelsea nodded sympathetically. She knew the type; the kind of people who thought the world revolved around their next big deal or their latest acquisition. "Wish I could make it easier for you," she said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. Her wedding band felt heavy on her left ring finger, a constant reminder of the life she had chosen, or rather, the one that had chosen her.

Joe took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You do," he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "More than you know."

Their conversation today was different from their usual lightness. There was a weight in the air, a heaviness that neither of them could shake off. It was as if the walls of their secret hideaway had grown thin, threatening to expose them at any moment. Chelsea felt a knot form in her stomach as she wondered if Joe was feeling the same way she was: trapped in a life that didn't quite fit.

"I've been thinking," Joe began, his eyes searching hers. "About us, I mean."

The words hung in the air like a question unasked. Chelsea felt the knot in her stomach tighten. "What about us?" she prodded, her voice steady despite the tumult in her chest.

Joe took a deep breath, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I can't help but wonder if things might've been different if we had waited, if we hadn't married so young." His eyes searched hers, looking for a glimmer of agreement or a spark of hope. "It's funny, I feel like a dumbass whenever I think that if I had just waited, I could've found you."

Chelsea felt the air thicken as the gravity of his words settled between them. The what-ifs of life had always been a silent companion to their secret affair, but today, they were speaking louder than ever. "I know," she murmured, her eyes dropping to the table. "I've been thinking about that too."

The waiter arrived, a young man with a crooked smile and a notepad at the ready. They ordered their usual, the routine comforting in its predictability. As he retreated, Joe leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble. "Did I tell you much about my family?"

Chelsea tilted her head, trying to recall any details beyond the fact that he had worked hard to support them. "Not really," she said, intrigued.

Joe's eyes took on a distant look as he spoke about his childhood in a small town in southeastern Ohio. His parents had been high school sweethearts, just like he and Gianna, but they had struggled to make ends meet. His father had coached at the junior college while his mother held down two jobs to keep their heads above water. He had two older brothers, both of whom had moved away to escape the shadow of their hometown's limitations.

"They had big dreams for me," Joe said, his voice thick with emotion. "They pushed me to do better, to be better."

Chelsea nodded, understanding the unspoken burden of parental expectations all too well. "And football was your way out?"

Joe's smile was bittersweet. "Yeah, it was. I was okay at it. Nothing special, I had a couple of offers but I didn't want to be too far from my parents or Gianna. So I chose Ohio State, thinking I'd keep playing, maybe make it to the NFL." His eyes grew darker with the memory. "But Gianna was already set on becoming a chef, and she had this opportunity in New York to work under a big name. I couldn't ask her to wait for me."

Their food arrived, the warm scents of cheese and marinara sauce briefly interrupting the flow of their conversation. They picked at their plates, the tension between them palpable. Chelsea listened intently, her heart aching for the sacrifices Joe had made. Her own family had mapped out her life from birth: the right schools, the right job, the right husband. Terrence had been the perfect package, but she had never felt like she had made the choice.

"So what happened?" she asked softly.

Joe took a bite of his pizza, the cheese stretching like an elastic band before breaking with a satisfying snap. "I quit football," he said, swallowing before continuing. "I figured if I couldn't have it all, I'd focus on making sure Gianna got what she wanted. I transferred to NYU to be with her. That's when I started getting serious about finance. I figured if I couldn't throw a ball for a living, I might as well find another way to make some real money."

The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable. Chelsea reached across the table, her hand resting gently on his forearm. "It wasn't a complete loss," she said, trying to ease the tension. "Look at you now, CFO of a Fortune 500 company. I'm sure your family's proud of you."

Joe nodded, but his eyes remained clouded. "They are," he admitted. "But it's not the same. I gave up something I loved for… for what? A marriage that feels more like a business deal every day?" He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the window where passersby walked in pairs, oblivious to the turmoil inside the restaurant. "Gianna's always been the star, you know? And I've just… I've just been her plus-one, the guy who writes the checks and makes sure she's happy."

Chelsea's heart twisted at the raw honesty in Joe's voice. She knew all too well the feeling of being an accessory to someone else's ambition. "You said you retired both yours and Gianna's parents, right? That's a big deal, Joe," she offered, trying to remind him of his worth beyond his marriage.

He nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich. "It is," he said, his voice devoid of the pride she knew should accompany such an achievement. "But it's like… I don't know. Like I've spent my whole life doing what everyone else wanted, and now…" His voice trailed off as he took a sip of his water, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. "I just don't know if I have anything left for myself."

Chelsea felt a pang of guilt for her part in adding to Joe's burdens. "What about you?" he asked, his gaze back on her. "What would you have done if you weren't married to Terrence?"

She took a moment to consider the question, the weight of the words sitting heavily on her tongue. "I don't think I've ever really considered any alternative, honestly," she said, her eyes meeting his. "My parents had my life mapped out for me from the day I was born. They picked out everything. The perfect name, the perfect schools, the perfect career, and of course, the perfect husband. If it wasn't Terrence, it would've been someone just like him."

Joe leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "You were pretty young when the two of you got seriou-"

"I was a sophomore in undergrad," Chelsea interrupted, the words spilling out like a confession. "Terrence was in medical school, already the golden boy of our families. He was charming, ambitious, same frat as my Dad, everything my parents wanted for me. They didn't even blink an eye when he proposed on my birthday less than a year after we met. It was like they had been waiting for it."

Joe nodded, understanding the weight of familial expectations. "And do you think you'd have chosen differently?" His eyes searched hers, looking for a glimmer of regret or perhaps a hint of a road not taken.

Chelsea's gaze fell to the breadsticks on the table, her mind racing back to those college days filled with hope and promise. "I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe. But by the time I realized I didn't love him the way they wanted me to, it was too late. I was standing at the altar, reciting vows I didn't even believe in. Just holding my breath, hoping someone would stand up and shout their objections."

Joe reached across the table and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You can't change the past," he said gently. "But you can decide what you want for the future."

Chelsea nodded, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "I know," she said, her voice wavering. "It's just hard to imagine a life without Terrence, without the life my parents worked so hard to set up for me. Anytime I try to imagine something different, it feels like I'm betraying them, like I'm throwing it all away."

Joe squeezed her hand tighter. "What do you think you'd be doing if you weren't married to Terrence?"

Chelsea took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities. "I'd probably still be in law," she said after a moment. "But maybe I'd be dabbling in politics, like I always talked about in college. Or maybe I'd start my own firm, one that focused on helping people who couldn't afford representation."

Joe's eyes lit up with genuine interest. Pausing to think as he observed the way Chelsea's eyes sparkled with the thought of a life untethered from her current reality.

"What about you?" Chelsea asked, eager to shift the focus. "What would you be doing if you weren't married to Gianna?"

Joe's gaze grew distant, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'd probably still be in finance," he said. "But I'd be traveling more, see the world." He chuckled, a sound that was a rare treat in their secret meetups. "But more importantly, I'd be taking chances, you know? Investing in little start-ups with potential instead of playing it safe."

Their conversation grew quieter, their food forgotten as they shared more of themselves than they ever had before. The walls of the restaurant seemed to close in around them, insulating them from the outside world and the lives they had left at the door.

"Joe," Chelsea began, her voice barely a whisper. "What do you want from this?" She searched his eyes, desperate for an answer that could give her clarity in the chaos of their situation.

Joe took a moment to consider, his thumb still tracing circles on her hand. "I want to be happy," he said finally. "I want what everyone wants, I guess. To love and be loved in return. To feel like I'm living my own life."

The words hung in the air like a confession, and for a moment, Chelsea felt like she could see right through to his soul. "What does that mean for us?" she asked, her voice barely audible above the clinking of silverware and the muffled conversations of other patrons.

Joe took a deep breath, his grip on her hand tightening. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I don't want you to feel trapped, Chelsea. I want you to be able to explore those things you've always talked about. If we can help each other find happiness, maybe that's enough for now."

Chelsea felt a tear slip down her cheek. "It's just…" she began, her voice cracking. "I've never felt like I could disappoint my family. They've given me so much, and I owe them so much."

Joe leaned in, his voice gentle. "But what about what you owe to yourself?"

Chelsea's eyes searched his, finding a reflection of the same yearning she felt. "I just don't know how to do that without letting them down," she confessed. "My identity is so tied up in being the successful daughter, the perfect wife. What happens when I'm just… Chelsea?"

Joe's smile was kind, understanding. "You're more than that already," he said. "But I get it. Sometimes it feels like we're all just playing roles, huh?"

The waiter refilled their water glasses, oblivious to the gravity of the conversation happening in the dimly lit corner booth. Chelsea nodded, taking a sip to gather her thoughts. "To this day, I slip up and forget that I'm 'Mrs. Brooks' and not 'Miss Hayes'." She chuckled sadly. "It's like I'm watching someone who looks like me live a life I didn't choose."

Joe leaned in closer, his voice low and earnest. "I was just Joey Burrow, the kid who could throw a football pretty good. But then I became 'Gianna's husband' and I wonder if I lost myself in that transition." His eyes searched hers, looking for understanding. "I know we can't change who we are or where we come from, but maybe we can start making choices that feel more like us."

Chelsea nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. "It's just…" she began, her voice trailing off. "What if we make the wrong choice?"

Joe's expression grew solemn. "There's no way to know," he said. "But I'd rather live with the regret of a risk taken than the regret of a life never lived. Gianna and I haven't been happy for a long time. I keep telling myself it's for the sake of stability, for Gianna's brand, but the truth is, I've been living for her happiness, not my own." He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm tired of pretending."

Chelsea felt a lump form in her throat. The honesty in Joe's voice was stark and raw, mirroring her own thoughts. "Terrence still doesn't know what it is I do all day," she said, her voice a mere whisper. "He's so caught up in his own world, he doesn't see me. I'm just another trophy for him to show off to his colleagues and family."

Joe nodded, his gaze never wavering from hers. "We both know what it's like to be someone else's accessory." He took another deep breath, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say next. "But I'm not going to lie to you, Chels. Being with you…it's the first time in a long time I've felt like myself again. It's refreshing. You're refreshing."

Chelsea felt a warmth spread through her chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. "I feel the same way," she confessed.

"Then maybe," Joe began, his voice hopeful, "we could start making choices that lead to us being happy. Together."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat, the implication of his words sinking in. The thought of being with Joe, openly and without fear of judgment, was both terrifying and exhilarating. She took a moment to process, her mind racing with the consequences and the potential joy that could come from such a choice.

"I've been holding off on saying this," Joe continued, reaching for his water after he quickly glanced at his watch. "But I love you. I know it's crazy, given the circumstances, but I think I have for a while now."

Chelsea's breath caught in her throat. Love? That was a word she hadn't dared to entertain in the context of their affair. She felt the weight of their secret pressing down on her, the fear of the consequences of admitting such a powerful emotion. But when she looked into Joe's eyes, she saw something that she hadn't seen in a very long time: genuine affection, untainted by duty or expectation.

"Joe," she said, her voice barely audible over the soft jazz playing in the background. "That's… I'm not sure how to respond to that."

Joe nodded, understanding the gravity of his confession. "You don't have to say it back," he said quickly. "I just wanted you to know. I need you to know that this isn't just about the physical stuff for me. You're more than that. You're the only one who gets it, who gets me."

The air grew thick with the unspoken words hanging between them. Chelsea felt the weight of his love like a warm blanket, comforting yet suffocating. She had never allowed herself to believe that someone could love her beyond her status or her marriage to Terrence. But Joe was different; he saw the real her, the woman buried beneath the layers of expectations and responsibilities.

"I… I love you too, Joe. I didn't know how to say it," Chelsea admitted, her voice trembling. The words felt strange on her lips, but also incredibly right. For the first time in years, she didn't feel like she was lying to herself or to someone else. "But I'm sure I do. You feel right."

Joe's smile grew, a warm light in the dim restaurant. He reached across the table and took both of her hands in his. "I know we're in a tough spot, Chelsea," he said, his voice earnest. "But I want us to find a way to be happy together. To build a life that's ours, not anyone else's."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all she saw was a man who had found something precious in her, something she hadn't realized she had lost until she saw it reflected in his gaze. Casting a quick glance around the empty restaurant, Chelsea leaned in, cupping Joe's face in her hands to kiss him. It was a soft, lingering kiss filled with a promise of a future she had never dared to dream of.

When they finally pulled apart, the silence was deafening. The realization of their confession settled over them like a warm blanket, both comforting and suffocating. "I need to get back to the office," Joe said, his voice husky with emotion.

Chelsea nodded, her eyes still locked on his. "Me too," she said, the gravity of their conversation still weighing heavily on her. They both knew that their lunch break was over, but the world outside the restaurant felt foreign and daunting.

They gathered their things and Joe helped her with her coat, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary on her arm. As they stepped out into the cold Cincinnati afternoon, the reality of their situation crashed down on them like a wave. They walked side by side, their hands brushing but not quite touching, the air between them charged with a tension that was no longer just sexual.

"I'll see you next week," Joe said, his voice a mix of hope and resignation. "It's about seven days too long, but I'll take what I can get."

Chelsea nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Seven days," she echoed, the number feeling both endless and insignificant. They stood outside the restaurant, the chilly breeze a stark contrast to the warmth they had shared inside.

"Yeah," Joe said, his eyes searching hers. "You'll text me when you get back to the firm?"

"I will," Chelsea promised, her hand reaching for her phone to ensure it was still there. The cold air stung her cheeks, reminding her of the world waiting outside their bubble. "And Joe…" she called out as he started to walk away. He turned back to her, the wind ruffling his dirty blonde hair. "Thank you."

Joe stopped in his tracks, his breath puffing out from his lips as he mouthed, "I love you," before turning back around. Chelsea watched him disappear into the crowd of people, feeling a pang of something akin to teenaged infatuation. As she walked towards her office, she couldn't shake the feeling that their lunch had irrevocably changed things. The weight of their confessions hung heavy in the air, a secret they both now had to carry.

The next month, Chelsea was whisked off to a work trip in Dayton. Her job required her to be there for a few days, and as much as she tried to focus on her work, her mind kept wandering back to Joe. She missed the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel alive again. On the second night of her trip, she found herself in her hotel room, alone with nothing but room service and a bottle of wine for company. The silence was deafening, and she couldn't ignore the ache between her legs that Joe so effortlessly satisfied.

Manicured fingertips reached for her phone, tapping on Joe's contact with a sense of urgency. "Miss me?" he answered, his voice deep and smooth, like a fine whiskey. Chelsea bit her lip, her heart racing as she whispered into the phone, "I need to see you."

"Aren't you in Dayton this week?" Joe's voice held a hint of surprise.

"And?" Chelsea challenged, biting at her bottom lip. She could almost see the heave of his chest as he sighed through the phone. Suppressing a giggle, she waited for his response.

"Goddammit, Chelsea," Joe murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Send me the address, I'll be there in 45."

"Joey, it's an hour drive," Chelsea protested, her voice a blend of excitement and caution.

"I'll do it in 40, don't argue with me," Joe said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Just send me the damn address before I lose my mind."

The anticipation grew as Chelsea sent him the details, her heart hammering in her chest like a drumline. She took a quick shower to wash off the day's stress and slipped into a lazy pair of Calvin Kleins. The minutes ticked by like hours until finally, she heard the door to her hotel room click open. She took a deep breath and turned to face him, her eyes widening at the sight of Joe in a crisp suit, looking like a man on a mission.

"I came straight from work," Joe said, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click. He dropped his briefcase and shrugged off his suit jacket, revealing his broad shoulders and the muscular physique Chelsea craved. She stepped into his arms, and he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth as if he'd been starving for her taste. Their kiss was desperate, hungry, and filled with the kind of passion that could never be contained within their marriages.

The room was suffocating with the scent of their desire as they tugged at each other's clothes, needing to feel skin on skin. Joe's hands were everywhere, tracing the contours of Chelsea's body with a familiarity that sent shivers down her spine. They stumbled backward to the bed, tearing away the barriers between them, leaving a trail of fabric scattered across the floor.

"So fuckin' needy for me, begging me to drive an hour just to fuck you?" Joe whispered in her ear as he pulled her closer, his hands cupping her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Chelsea felt a thrill of arousal at his words, biting her lip to hold back a moan. He carried her to the bed and tossed her down onto the soft hotel comforter. He stepped back and took a moment to admire her, his eyes raking over her naked body as if she were a feast laid out just for him.

"Bless me," Chelsea murmured, her eyes locked on Joe's as he undid his tie with purposeful strokes. She watched as each button of his shirt came undone, revealing his chest, his abs, the V of muscle that pointed down to the bulge in his trousers. He stepped closer, kicking off his shoes and dropping his pants. He was already hard for her, and the sight made her wetter.

"You're so beautiful," Joe said, his voice thick with desire. He climbed onto the bed and claimed her mouth again, his hands roaming her body with a possessiveness that made her feel alive. He kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach, and Chelsea arched her back, eager for his touch. His mouth found her clit, and she gasped as he flicked his tongue against it, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

Joe's skilled hands worked their magic as he brought her to the edge, her moans growing louder with each stroke. Chelsea's fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on, her hips bucking against his mouth. She felt herself falling apart, her orgasm building like a crescendo. And when it hit, she screamed his name, her body convulsing with pleasure.

He slid up her body and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss, the taste of her own desire on his lips. Chelsea wrapped her legs around his waist, guiding him into her. He filled her completely, stretching her with his thickness. They moved together in a rhythm that was both familiar and new, a dance of passion and need that transcended their marriages. The sounds of their skin slapping together melded with their gasps and moans, echoing in the quiet hotel room.

It was uninhibited, raw, and absolutely everything Chelsea had been craving. With every thrust, Joe seemed to claim a piece of her she hadn't realized she had been holding back. She clawed at his back, her nails digging in as she matched his intensity. They moved as one, their breaths mingling in the air, their hearts beating a tempo of pure desire. The room was filled with the scent of their passion, the heat from their bodies raising the temperature of the space.

"I think you enjoy this too much," Joe murmured, his breath hot against Chelsea's ear as he drove into her.

"You think?" she quipped, her voice thick with sarcasm.

He smirked, his blue eyes piercing hers. "I know."

The truth of his words stung, but she didn't refute them. Instead, she pushed him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him and taking control. She set the pace now, her hips rolling and grinding against him, drawing out every delicious sensation. Joe's hands found her breasts, teasing and playing as she rode him, their eyes locked in a silent challenge.

"What? You want me to feel guilty about enjoying this?" Chelsea challenged, her voice low and husky as she rocked her hips against Joe's. "Want me to feel guilty—fuck, yes—about the way you get me so wet, so hot, so—" she gasped as he sank his teeth into the soft skin of her neck, "—so fucking desperate to feel you inside me?"

Joe's eyes darkened at her words, his grip on her hips tightening. "I could never ask you to feel guilty about that, baby. I know he isn't giving you what you need."

Chelsea moaned at his words, her hips moving faster as she neared another peak. "And her?" she panted, needing to hear him acknowledge it. "You ever fuck her like this?"

Joe's expression grew serious. "No, never." He reached up to cup her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "I haven't touched her in months, baby. Not since I first saw you."

The confession sent a thrill through Chelsea's body, and she leaned down to kiss him hard, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she rode him with a newfound urgency. The truth was a heady aphrodisiac, making her feel even more alive and desired. She didn't want to think about the consequences or the pain they were causing. Right now, all that mattered was Joe's cock filling her up and the sound of their skin slapping together.

"I love you, Joey," Chelsea murmured against his lips, the words slipping out as he began to buck up into her.

He stilled beneath her, his eyes searching hers. "You can't just drop that shit, Chelsea," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut as he attempted to hold off his climax. "You know what that does to me."

Chelsea felt a surge of power, her heart racing as she leaned back slightly to look down at him. "You're all I think about. I love you." Her words were like a drug, pushing him closer to the edge. He groaned, his hands clutching her hips, and she knew she had him.

"Fuck," Joe growled, his eyes snapping open. "I love you too. So much it scares me." His hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements as he began to thrust up into her. The room was filled with their desperate moans and gasps, their bodies moving in a symphony of passion that neither of them had ever felt before.

Their lovemaking grew more intense, the emotions bubbling up inside of them fueling the fire between them. They were no longer just two people caught in a moment of passion; they were two souls confessing their love in the most primal of ways. Chelsea felt her orgasm building, her entire body tightening around Joe as he pushed her closer and closer to the brink.

"Chelsea," he moaned, his voice thick with lust and love. She could feel his cock pulsing inside her, and she knew he was close too. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. It was all she needed. With a cry that was equal parts pleasure and pain, she shuddered around him, her muscles clenching as she came hard.

Joe watched her, his own climax following close behind, his eyes never leaving hers. They held onto each other tightly as they rode the waves of pleasure, their breathing heavy and erratic. When it was over, Chelsea collapsed on top of him, her body feeling boneless and satisfied. They lay there for a moment, their hearts pounding in unison, their limbs tangled together.

"Joe," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he kissed her forehead. "I know," he murmured, understanding the unspoken question in her eyes. They had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed, and now they had to deal with the consequences.

The silence was heavy as they both thought about the future of their affair. The hotel room felt like a sanctuary, a bubble where the outside world couldn't touch them. But reality waited just beyond the door, and they both knew it couldn't last forever.

Joe pulled her closer, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "I know it's not my place to say, but maybe it's time to think about what you really want," he murmured. "You deserve to be happy, Chelsea. If you want something different, if you want more from your marriage, you should take it. Whether it's with me or not, I just want you to be happy."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, finding a genuine concern that she hadn't seen in a long time from Terrence. She knew Joe was right, but the weight of expectations and the fear of losing what she had built was too much. She leaned her forehead against his, whispering, "If I pull the trigger, everything changes. Our families, our reputations, our lives."

"But if you don't," Joe countered, "are you just going to keep living like this?" His voice was soft, but the question hit hard. Chelsea felt a knot form in her stomach, acknowledging the truth in his words.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of love, fear, and indecision. "I don't know what's going to happen," she admitted. "But I can't keep lying to them, Joe. And I can't keep lying to myself. I love you, but I'm terrified."

Joe kissed her gently. "I know, and I'm scared too. But we can't keep going on like this. We need to make a choice." He held her tightly, feeling her warmth, her heart racing against his chest. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the unspoken truth of what lay ahead.

The Dayton trip came and went, leaving Chelsea fluttering from room to room, preparing her home for her parents' first visit to Cincinnati. She was a tornado of emotions, trying to keep her thoughts from drifting back to Joe and the love they'd confessed in that hotel room. She knew she needed to keep up appearances, especially with her mother's keen eye for detail.

The doorbell chimed, pulling her out of her reverie, and she took a deep breath, pasting on a smile before opening the door. Her parents swept in, her mother's arms wide as she greeted her with a tight hug. "Look at you, living the dream," she said, her voice filled with pride. Chelsea's father nodded in approval, shaking Terrence's hand firmly.

The four of them sat down for dinner, the tension palpable as they made small talk. When the doorbell rang, Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. She excused herself, expecting it to be a delivery or a neighbor. To her shock, it was Gianna and Joe. The celebrity chef was holding a bottle of wine, her perfectly manicured hand outstretched. "I saw your parents flew in. Thought we'd pop by," she said, her smile bright and genuine. Chelsea managed to keep her cool, inviting them inside.

Joe's gaze lingered on Chelsea, a silent apology in his eyes. She knew he could feel the electricity between them, the secret they shared threatening to crackle into the open. Terrence was oblivious, chuckling at something Joe said about golf as they settled into the living room. Naturally, Gianna dazzled everyone with stories of her latest television appearances and culinary adventures. Chelsea's parents were delightfully entertained, nodding along and sharing their own tales with their daughter's neighbors.

As the evening progressed, Chelsea's mother stood, requesting her daughter join her in the kitchen for a brief moment. None the wiser, Chelsea followed, trying to play it cool despite the knowledge that Joe was likely watching her leave.

In the kitchen, her mother's eyes searched hers, a stern look replacing her earlier smile. "I hope you know what you're doing, Chelsea," she whispered, the clinking of glasses from the living room a stark contrast to the gravity of her words.

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. "Momma? What are you talking about?" she replied, feigning ignorance as she reached for a glass of water to steady her nerves.

Her mother leaned in closer, her voice low. "I've never seen you look at a man like that before, not even Terrence, the man who's supposed to be your husband. What are you doing with that man, baby?"

Chelsea froze, attempting to collect herself before responding. "Momma, I don't know what you think you saw, but nothing is happening. He's just a neighbor." She took a sip of water, trying to ease the dryness in her mouth.

Her mother's gaze was unwavering. "Chelsea, I've been married to your father for thirty-five years. I know love when I see it and I know lust when I see it. And let me tell you, honey, you don't got either one of those for Terrence." She paused, giving her daughter a moment to absorb her words before continuing. "And compared to the way you look at Joseph, I don't think you ever have."

The room grew still, the air thick with accusation and truth. Chelsea felt the heat rising in her cheeks but she kept her composure. "Momma, you're reading too much into it," she replied, trying to lighten the mood with a forced smile. "Nothing to worry about."

Her mother's expression softened, but the knowing glint in her eye didn't fade. "Look, baby," she said, taking Chelsea's hand, "I'm not judging you. But I am your mother, and I know you. I want you to be happy. And if that means making some hard choices, then maybe it's time for you to consider what truly makes you happy. I know I have put a lot of pressure on you to find a good man, to marry well, and I'm sorry. I really am. But that doesn't mean you should settle for someone who doesn't take care of you."

Chelsea felt the weight of her mother's words, and she couldn't help but look over at Joe, who was chuckling at a story Gianna was telling. His eyes caught hers briefly, and she saw a hint of understanding in them, as if he knew what she was feeling. She turned back to her mother, unsure of what to say. "Momma, I'm okay. Really. Terrence is a good man. We're just going through a rough patch, that's all. Don't worry about me."

Her mother squeezed her hand gently. "Chelsea, I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about you wasting your life on a man who doesn't make you feel like the way you should." She took a deep breath. "Your father and I, we have our problems, but we always make sure to keep the spark alive. And let me tell you, the way you look at Joseph? That's a spark that could light up the whole damn neighborhood."

Her mother pulled her into a tight hug, whispering into her ear, "Just remember, baby, you deserve to be happy. And if that happiness isn't with Terrence, then maybe it's with someone else. I will always be proud of you, no matter what." With a knowing smile, she released her and returned to the dinner table. Chelsea felt a mix of relief and fear wash over her. It wasn't the first time her mother had hinted at her dissatisfaction with Terrence, but it was the first time she'd ever suggested that Chelsea's eye had wandered.

The evening ended with polite goodbyes and promises of future visits. As Joe and Gianna left, Joe gave Chelsea one last lingering look that sent shivers down her spine. Terrence, blissfully unaware of the tension, collapsed into bed, falling asleep almost instantly. But as Chelsea lay in bed, her thoughts were consumed by Joe's words and her mother's warning. Was she really just going through a phase, or had she found something real? And if so, was it worth risking everything for?

The following days were a blur of work, social engagements, and secret glances. Chelsea and Joe danced around each other, the air thick with unspoken desires and fears. They didn't dare to text or call, not with their spouses so close by, but the silence between them was deafening. It was during one particularly stressful workday that Chelsea decided she needed to get out of the office. She drove aimlessly, her mind racing until she found herself parked outside Joe's office building.

Her heart pounding, she waited until she saw him emerge, his tall frame cutting a stark contrast against the grey concrete. He looked surprised when he saw her, but there was something in his eyes that told her he'd been expecting this. They decided to grab a quick lunch at a nearby café, choosing a secluded booth in the back. The conversation was stilted at first, filled with awkward pauses and forced laughter, but eventually, the dam broke. They talked about their marriages, their dreams, their fears, and their longing for something more. Chelsea felt as though she was peeling back layers of herself she hadn't realized were there, revealing parts she'd kept hidden even from her own husband.

"I hired a divorce attorney," Joe announced, his voice low and serious. "I can't keep pretending anymore, Chelsea."

Her eyes widened, and she took a sip of her iced tea, the condensation on the glass slipping over her fingers. "Okay," she breathed out. "Okay."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a thick fog. Chelsea felt a rush of emotions—relief, excitement, fear, and guilt. She knew that she felt the same way, that she couldn't continue living a lie, but the prospect of the truth coming to light was terrifying. She took a deep breath and leaned in, her eyes finding Joe's.

"Look, I don't expect you to leave Terrence today, or even a month from now," Joe said, his gaze focused on hers. "But I want you to know that I'm serious about this. I haven't seen Gianna in weeks, and when I do, it's for appearances only. Even if we weren't doing this," he gestured between them, "I would've ended it because neither of us is happy and I know she's just waiting for me to take the first step."

Chelsea's stomach twisted into knots. The thought of leaving Terrence and the life she'd built with him was overwhelming. Yet, she felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could have the love she craved with Joe. She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll think about it," she murmured.

They finished their lunch in near silence, the conversation drifting back to work and the mundane. It was a strange dance of normalcy in the face of a revelation that could shatter their worlds. When the check came, Joe reached for it, his hand brushing hers. The electricity that passed between them was undeniable. As they stood to leave, Chelsea felt a strange mix of excitement and dread.

They both retreated back to their own offices as the day wound down. As Chelsea drove back home, every red light, every stop sign, felt like a countdown to a moment that would change everything. When she pulled into her driveway, the house was dark. Terrence was still at the hospital. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

Once inside, she poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the couch, the same couch where she and Joe had first given into temptation. She couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through her at the memory. But she knew that if she acted on Joe’s confession, she would be crossing a line from which there was no returning. The weight of their shared secret grew heavier by the second.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Joe, "You okay?"

Chelsea took a sip of wine, the liquid doing little to soothe her nerves. She responded, "Yeah, just processing."

Joe's reply was almost instant, "We don't have to rush into anything. I just needed you to know where I stand."

The gravity of Joe's words sank in. Chelsea knew that once they made this move, there would be no going back. The walls of her marriage, which had felt so stifling, now felt like a cocoon protecting her from the inevitable storm that lay ahead. But as she sat there, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through her, she knew she didn't want to be protected anymore. She wanted the raw, unfiltered passion that Joe brought to her life.

The next night, Chelsea had resolved to break the news to Terrence. She waited for him to come home from a short day of consultations, her heart racing as she heard his footsteps through the front door. She took a deep breath as she opened the door, a bit miffed but not surprised when he completely brushed past her, heading for their drinks cart without so much as a hello. He was always like this after a day of dealing with patients and their families—distant, cold.

"Terrence, can we talk?" she called out, her voice echoing through their grand foyer. He didn’t respond immediately, taking his sweet time to fix himself a whiskey on the rocks before finally walking into the living room and reaching for the TV remote. Chelsea bit her lip, steeling herself for the conversation she’d been dreading. She’d picked out her words carefully, rehearsing the speech in her mind a hundred times. But now, with him so disconnected, it was harder than she thought.

He took a sip, his eyes never leaving the flickering screen. "What is it, Chelsea?"

Chelsea took a step closer to him, her heart hammering in her chest. "I have to tell you something. It's important."

"Yeah, okay," Terrence said distractedly, his gaze still glued to the TV.

Chelsea took a deep breath, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. "Terrence, I've been thinking a lot about us."

He finally tore his eyes away from the TV, looking at her with a mix of irritation and curiosity. "Chelsea, what is it?" The words were choppy, as if he had to force them out.

"I'm having an affair with Joe," Chelsea blurted out, the words leaving her mouth before she could second-guess herself. Terrence froze, the glass of whiskey halfway to his lips. For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the low volume from the TV. His eyes grew wide, and his grip on the glass tightened.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Terrence's voice was low, a warning growl. He set the drink down hard on the coffee table, the ice clinking against the glass.

Chelsea swallowed, her throat dry. "I've been seeing Joe. We've been having an affair."

Terrence's face contorted into a mask of rage and disbelief. He took a step towards her, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "You what? How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, Terrence," Chelsea said, her voice trembling as she took a step back.

"You're sorry? That's all you have to say?" Terrence's voice was a thunderstorm, his eyes flashing with anger. He took another step closer to her, and she could almost feel the heat of his rage. "How long has this been going on?"

"It just happened," Chelsea lied, her voice shaking. "I'm filing for divorce."

Terrence's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare do this to me, Chelsea." He stepped closer, his towering frame looming over her. "We had an agreement, a promise to each other and our families."

"I know, but I can't help how I feel," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not happy anymore, Terrence."

"You're not happy?" Terrence's voice was incredulous. "So you go fuck your married neighbor? Do you hear yourself?"

Chelsea flinched at the harshness of his words, but she stood her ground. "It's not just that, Terrence. We've been drifting apart for a while now. We're not the same people we were when we met in college."

"You think I don't know that?" Terrence snapped, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Does Gianna know that you fucked her husband?"

Chelsea felt a pang of guilt stab at her. "I don't know, Terrence. That's on Joe to tell her."

Terrence took another step towards her, his breath hot on her face. "You're unbelievable. You're going to ruin everything we've built together."

Chelsea's eyes filled with tears. "I know, but I can't keep living like this. I need more than just a good last name and a nice house."

Terrence's expression softened slightly, but the anger was still a palpable force between them. "What do you want from me, Chelsea? What could I possibly do to fix this?"

"It's not about fixing, Terrence," she said, her voice firm but filled with sadness. "It's about accepting that we're not right for each other anymore."

Terrence's eyes searched hers, looking for any hint of doubt or regret. Finding none, he sighed heavily. "I don't know what to say. I just... I don't get it."

"You don't have to," Chelsea replied, wiping away the tears that had begun to trickle down her cheeks. "I just need you to understand that I'm walking away. I don't expect you to be okay with it, but I need you to respect my decision."

The silence between them grew thick, each one of Terrence's breaths seemingly louder than the last. Finally, he spoke again, his voice quieter, more measured. "What now, Chelsea? What's your plan?"

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the inevitable. "I'm going to file for divorce. I booked a room at Marriott Downtown for a few days. I need some space to think."

Terrence's face fell, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "And Joe? What about him?"

"What about him?" Chelsea challenged, her voice laced with defensiveness. "He's going to leave Gianna. He loves me."

Terrence scoffed. "Love? You think this is love? You're throwing away our marriage for a quick fuck and a few moments of excitement? That's not love, Chelsea."

Chelsea's eyes flashed with anger. "You don't get to define love for me, Terrence. You don't get to tell me what I feel. Even if Joe doesn't leave Gianna, I need to find myself again. This isn't just about sex. It's about connection and what I need to be happy."

Terrence stepped back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I can't believe this is happening." He turned away from her, his hand rubbing at his forehead. "Go to the Marriott, whatever. Just do me a favor and break the news to our parents yourself. Tell them what the fuck you did, yeah?"

With that, he stormed out of the living room, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. Chelsea stood there, trembling, her heart racing in her chest. She had never seen Terrence like this before—so raw, so broken. The reality of what she had done began to sink in, and she felt the weight of their crumbling marriage pressing down on her. She picked up her phone, staring at the screen, Joe's contact staring back at her but she couldn't bring herself to press the call button.

Instead, she turned and walked out the front door, the cool night air hitting her like a slap in the face. The quietness of the neighborhood was eerie, a stark contrast to the tumultuous storm brewing in her soul. She wandered the streets, her thoughts racing. Was this love? Was she being selfish? Would she regret this? But with each step, she felt a sense of relief, as if she were shedding a heavy burden she had been carrying for too long.

The drive was a blur of streetlights and the occasional passing car. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was driving away from everything she had ever known and into the unknown. Her mind was racing with the consequences of her actions, the potential for scandal, and the pain she knew she had caused Terrence. Yet, as she pulled into the Marriott parking lot, she felt a strange sense of liberation. For the first time in years, she was making a decision solely for herself.

In the hotel room, Chelsea took a deep breath and picked up the phone, her hand shaking. She dialed Joe's number, the anticipation building with each ring. When he finally answered, she could hear the tension in his voice. "Hey," she whispered, "I did it. Terrence knows."

There was a heavy pause on the other end, and then Joe exhaled. It was a deep, relieved sigh, one that told her everything she needed to know about his reaction. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and concerned.

"Honestly, yeah," she replied truthfully, "I think I've been holding this in for so long that it feels like a weight has been lifted. What about you?"

Joe took a moment before speaking, "It was weird, she didn't fight with me. Just said 'okay' and asked me to leave," Despite the tension in his voice, Chelsea couldn't miss the hint of relief. "But it's the right thing to do, I know it is."

"What's going to happen now?" she asked, her heart racing.

"I could come see you?" Joe suggested tentatively, "We could talk about it in person."

Chelsea felt a warm rush of excitement at the thought. "Okay," she murmured, "I'll be waiting." She hung up the phone and paced the room, trying to calm her racing thoughts. When Joe finally arrived, the tension between them was palpable. He looked tired, his eyes carrying the weight of the day's revelations. His arms were warm, strong, and comforting as he pulled her into an embrace.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "I didn't mean for it to go down like that."

Joe held her tighter, his breath warm against her hair. "It's okay," he murmured, "This is on me too. We both knew this wasn't going to be easy." He led her to the bed, his hand never leaving hers, and they sat down. The silence stretched out, thick and heavy with unspoken words.

"I want you to know that I'm all in," Joe said, his voice firm but gentle, breaking the silence. "Whatever happens next, I'm here for you. Romantically or otherwise."

Chelsea looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any signs of doubt. All she found was a fierce determination that mirrored her own. "I'm all in too," she whispered, her heart swelling with emotion.

They lay down together, their bodies fitting perfectly. Chelsea felt a sense of peace that she hadn't felt in years. Joe kissed her forehead, her cheek, her neck, before capturing her lips in a gentle, yet urgent kiss. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate, as their bodies began to move in sync. They made love slowly, savoring each touch, each caress, as if it were the first and last time. Their moans filled the quiet hotel room, echoing off the walls in sweet surrender.

Afterwards, they lay entwined, the silence between them no longer filled with tension but a quiet understanding. "On the bright side," Chelsea spoke up, a small smile playing on her lips, "I don't mind taking you to a firm event. Terrence never gave me the chance to introduce him to my coworkers."

Joe chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I guess that'll be our first official appearance together, huh?" He stroked her arm lightly, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. "I can't wait to tell the world you're all mine. That you chose me over all the other eligible married men out there."

"Stupid," Chelsea muttered, narrowing her eyes as Joe laughed at his own joke. "But true," she conceded with a smile, snuggling closer to him. "I can't wait to kiss you in public. Without hiding."

Joe's eyes grew serious as he pulled her closer. "We'll do it right," he promised. "I'll introduce you to my colleagues, my friends, my family. And we'll tell them the truth—that we're together because we love each other, no more guilt, no more anxiety."

The warmth of Joe's embrace washed over Chelsea like a gentle summer rain, soothing her raw emotions. She nodded, feeling the weight of her decision settle into her bones. As they lay together, the silence was punctuated only by their synchronized breaths and the muffled sounds of the bustling city outside. The reality of their newfound freedom both thrilling and terrifying.

#&. cassie writes.#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow angst #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow x black!oc #black!oc #black!fem!oc #black female oc

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courtofcravings · 3 days ago

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Everyone Knew (1)

Cassian x Reader

After realizing you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, a night out at the bar takes an unexpected turn when unresolved feelings become the topic of the night.

Mutual pinning, Slight angst, Fluff Warnings: Drinking, border line nswf (but only make out) Completed Series - Read part 2 here

“You could, perhaps, try talking to him…” Feyre suggested, lifting her glass to her lips, “I mean, how long do you think you can avoid him?” She added, with a pointed look

“Would forever be too long?” you muttered, staring into your nearly empty drink. Tonight was supposed to be a break—a brief escape from your endless pining. Somehow, though, it had turned into an interrogation.

“You’re acting pathetic,” Nesta grumbled from beside her sister. “Just talk to him. He is only a man.”

“I tried,” you whined, throwing a pleading glance at the girls. You really had tried—more than once. The problem was that every time Cassian’s eyes lingered on yours for too long, your brain short-circuited, leaving you speechless and rulling any possibility of confessing: utterly impossible.

“Tried,” Nesta repeated mockingly, a smirk curling her lips. “If you call drooling over him and bolting out of every room he’s in trying, then sure.”

“She gets flustered,” Feyre said, reaching across the table to pinch your warming cheeks. “It’s not her fault.”

“Exactly!” you mumbled, swatting Feyre’s hands away. “Every time I look at him, words just… don’t form… into complete thoughts.” You groaned, slumping back. You weren’t exactly the drooling mess Nesta made you out to be—at least, you hoped not—but lately, you’d definitely been frazzled.

A poorly muffled laugh broke from the man sitting on Nesta’s other side—silent for so long, you’d almost forgotten he was there.

“I hardly see how you find this so amusing, Azriel,” You scolded, shooting him a sharp look.

Azriel’s eyes flicked to yours for a brief second before darting back to the other girls. “I’ve never seen her acting so… odd,” he said, shaking his head. “And neither has he.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “I am not acting weird.”

“Besides becoming a moping mess?” Nesta quipped, her lips curling into a sly smirk.

“He knows you’re avoiding him,” Azriel said flatly. “And that’s… odd behavior. You two are normally inseparable.”

“You told him I was avoiding him?” you accused, your heart beating a little faster.

“No,” Azriel replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Skipping practice for the third time this week clued him in. He didn’t stop complaining about it during sparring today.”

“Wait… he’s upset with me?” you asked, a knot forming in your chest.

The last few weeks had been overwhelming. Realizing just how deeply you loved your best friend had been consuming. He had been consuming. The mere thought of stepping into a ring with him, his large, strong hands on you, made your pulse race.

“I never said he was upset with you,” Azriel corrected, arching a brow.

“But he’s complaining about me?”

“Not about—” Azriel sighed, his tone edging toward exasperation. “Would you just talk to him?” His frustration showed in the slight crease of his brows, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“And say what?” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else. Just having a fraction of his attention made you flustered—having all of it? You were sure you’d melt on the spot.

“Literally, anything.” Nesta answered.

With a scoff, you laced your fingers together dramatically, resting your chin on them. “Oh, my dearest friend,” you began, your voice dripping with mock sincerity. “I hate to ruin our valuable friendship, but our friends think it is vital that I inform you of how completely, utterly head over heels I am for you.”

You paused just long enough to grab the glass Feyre had left in front of you, tossing back its contents in a single gulp. The alcohol burned its way down your throat, making you wince. But as you set the glass down, all traces of mockery vanished, your tone softening to something achingly earnest.

“Every morning, I wake up sad because you aren’t beside me, and I fall asleep just as bitter. Truly, though, that's the least of my problems…” Your voice faltered for just a moment before you pressed on. “Because I haven’t the faintest idea how to act around you anymore. And I miss my best friend.”

“Yes, say it exactly like that,” Feyre said, her soft smile full of encouragement.

“That was… actually very romantic,” Nesta added, her usual sharpness tempered by genuine surprise.

“As if I could ever say that—Oh!” you groaned, digging your hands through your hair in pure frustration. “Did I tell you what he said yesterday? About how excited he was to pin me under him?” Your voice cracked, and the words spilled out in a hurried, breathless rush.

You knew Cassian had meant it in the context of sparring, but the unintended suggestion had completely scrambled your thoughts. “How am I supposed to train with him now?” you muttered, shaking your head and pressing your palms to your temples. “The thought of me under him, or worse, me on top of him… Cauldron.”

Azriel, caught off guard, sputtered into his drink, his usually stoic composure vanished as he coughed and gasped for air. Feyre, her face flushed with suppressed laughter, pressed a fist to her mouth in an attempt to control herself. Nesta didn’t bother to hide her wide grin.

“This is not helping.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Neither is skipping training,” Nesta quipped.

“This is all your fault!” you snapped, spinning to point an accusing finger at the trio. “You three just had to point out that I loved him. You couldn’t leave it alone—you all just had to be right!” You were ready to argue further, but their expressions gave you pause. Instead of guilt or concern, they were all smiling at something behind you.

“Gonna be honest, Y/n…” A chill crept into your stomach as you heard a very amused familiar voice.. “Didn’t think that line would work.”

You froze, the air rushing from your lungs as you turned around. “Cass!” The unintelligible squeak that followed was a sound you were certain had never left your lips before. Your voice climbed a pitch higher, your heart hammering so fast you feared it might escape your chest entirely and throw itself at the man standing before you. “Cass—Cassian! You’re, uh, here. Why? Uh… why are you”—you swallowed hard, your throat painfully dry—“here?”

Behind you, the chorus of girlish giggles from your so-called friends did nothing to steady the waver in your voice. Cassian’s arms crossed loosely over his large chest, his posture casual, but his eyes anything but. They raked over you with an intensity that left you rooted to the spot. “I heard you went drinking without me.”

“Is that… what you heard?” you stammered, your voice faltering as you struggled to keep your composure. “What else—what else did y-you hear?” You couldn’t tear your gaze from his hazel eyes, the intensity making your heart race.

“Enough to piece together why you’ve been—well, avoiding me.”

“Have I?” you asked, feigning confusion as you awkwardly scratched at the back of your neck. Cassian’s lips twitched, his amusement rising alongside the arch of one dark brow.

“I’ll get us a round,” you blurted out, inching toward the edge of the booth. The plan to escape was short-lived, though, as Cassian’s arm shot out, blocking your path. Two shot glasses clinked against the table as he set them down with a smug grin.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Cassian chuckled to himself as he squeezed into the booth, his broad frame leaving you no choice but to shuffle further back. “We should talk.”

“A talk? You and I?” you asked, your voice high-pitched with forced casualness as you plastered on a tight smile. “It’s a girl’s night—we can talk later… or never. Never works for me.”

Cassian’s grin grew. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if struggling to decide what to say first. His eyes flicked to Azriel, who sat stiffly at the far end of the booth, before returning to you. “Girl’s night, huh?” Cassian drawled. “But Az is sitting right there.”

“No, I’m not,” came the shadowsinger’s low, muttered reply.

You barely had time to blink before the sound of Azriel getting up filled the booth. Disappearing into the crowd without so much as a backward glance, leaving you alone with Cassian. Feyre and Nesta, you realized belatedly, had also vanished at some point. Traitors.

“Coward!” you yelled after Azriel, your frustration swallowed by the chatter in the bar.

“Says the kettle to the pot,” Cassian quipped, his smirk turning devilish as he reached for the bottle Azriel had left behind, taking a long swig. He set it down, leaning back as his gaze pinned you in place. “I’ve never seen you act so… flustered before. It’s cute.”

“I—” The word barely escaped your lips, snagging on the lump forming in your throat. Cute. He called you cute. Like you were some kind of child.

Mortified, you buried your face in your hands, as if that would somehow block out the world—and him. Heat flooded your cheeks, and his presence, so close, so warm, only made it worse. “Can you just pretend you didn’t hear any of that?”

“Y/N, would you just—”

“Please—pretty please?” you cut him off with a groan, your voice tinged with desperation. You just needed him to let it go, to move on, to give you even a moment of reprieve.

But the sound of your plea died in your throat as two large, warm hands gently wrapped around your wrists, pulling them away from your face with surprising tenderness. His touch sent a wave of buzzing exhilaration coursing through you.

His breath fanned against your ear, and you flinched at just how close he was. Too close. There was no hiding the heat crawling up your neck and settling in your cheeks.

“W-What?” you stammered, completely losing track of whatever he had just said. Your eyes flicked to his lips, watching as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, a faint smile tugging at the corners.

“Why would I do that?” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate.

“Because… because it’s easier,” you admitted softly, the words tumbling out before you could catch them.

Cassian’s brows drew together, a flicker of confusion shadowing his expression. “Is it?” he murmured, leaning in ever so slightly. His teasing smile returned, softer but no less disarming. “Because it looks like you’re struggling quite a bit.”

“Cauldron, Cass… please.” Your voice wavered, breaking under the strain of your emotions. “I—I can’t. Don’t tease me about this. I can’t…”

The raw and fragile plea hung in the air. Your wrists went limp in his grasp, as if surrendering would somehow make it easier. Maybe if you stayed quiet, he’d let it drop—let you go so you could disappear into the safety of your blankets at home and pretend this moment had never happened.

Instead, he loosened one hand, his fingers brushing against your face as he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His knuckles lingered, grazing your cheek with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. You told yourself not to, begged, but you leaned into his touch anyway.

“This is why you’ve been acting so…” His knuckles trailed downward, leaving a scorching path to your neck. The sensation was maddening, each inch sending waves of heat and goosebumps alike coursing through your skin. “…so distant?”

You swallowed hard, words trapped under the weight of his steady gaze. His fingers brushed lightly over your throat, as his hazel eyes searched yours, waiting.

“Yes.” The word was barely a breath

“I thought I did something to piss you off.” His hand slid from your wrist, trailing slowly up the bare skin of your arm. Every brush of his fingers left a trail of fire in their wake. “I hounded Az about it for weeks,” he continued, voice low and laced with something unspoken. His touch traveled over your shoulder and down your back, finally settling on your waist—where it fit like it belonged.

“You did?” The question barely made it past your lips, as soft and fragile as your resolve under his gaze.

“Needed to know why things changed.” His grip on your waist tightened slightly, warm and possessive, his thumb pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “I hated the distance you put between us.”

“Cass—”

“Promise me, Y/N.” His voice dropped, low and intimate, the weight of his words sinking deep into the charged space between you. “Tell me you won’t ever do that again.” His hazel eyes bore into yours, sharp yet devastatingly tender. “Alright, Cassian.” You whispered it, though it felt more like a surrender than a promise.

He used his hold on your waist to draw you closer, your bodies nearly flush. His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Promise me you’ll talk to me when something’s bothering you,” he murmured, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your waist that sent shivers rippling through you.

“I promise.” The words came out on an exhale, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The air between you felt heavier, thick with tension.

“You even went drinking without me,” he added, the playful pout on his lips disarming in contrast to the intensity of the moment.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you, your heart warming despite the charged atmosphere. “Cauldron, Cass, really?”

His grin softened, but his eyes never left yours. “I missed my best friend, too.”

You sat up straighter, planting your palms on his chest to create just enough distance to breathe. “I—I still don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you anymore… how to go back.” Frustration bubbled up, and you groaned, scrubbing your hands over your face without a care for the smudge of your makeup. “I need a drink.”

“Go back…” he echoed under his breath. His hand slid away from your waist as he reached for a shot, the absence of his touch a sudden, jarring loss. “I thought I’d get you drunk enough tonight to spill what the fuck was on your mind.” “I’m surprised you didn’t know.” You grimaced, taking the chilled glass from him and pressing it to your flushed face. The coolness was a welcome relief against the heat simmering beneath your skin. “Everyone knew. Literally. Everyone.”

Cassian’s wings twitched, tension rippling through him. “Yeah, I’ll be having some words with them later,” he muttered darkly, the sharp edge to his voice offset by the warmth in his eyes. He downed his shot, the sharp scent of liquor mingling in the air between you, intoxicating in its own way.

“I begged them not to tell,” you admitted, dazed as you watched his tongue dart out to catch the last drop of alcohol from his lips. Your breath hitched. Those lips—the way his tongue moved—flashed through your mind. The memories of sleepless nights, haunted by dreams of him, surged hotly. Your pulse faltered, and a tight, burning heat spread through your chest.

Your face flushed even deeper, the heat not just from embarrassment, but from the way Cassian’s gaze locked with yours, that knowing grin spreading across his lips like he could read your thoughts. You reached for the shot, desperate to regain some composure.

“Hey!” A sudden pinch to your waist jolted you, causing the alcohol to spill across your neck. You winced "Why’d you do that?" You reached for the spill, but his hand shot out to firmly grasp your wrist.

"Sorry, Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and laced with intent. “I wanted another taste.” His gaze fell to the liquor on your skin, and his body leaned closer, his presence nearly overwhelming. “Let me clean that for you.”

“Cassian, what are–” Your words caught in your throat, and you didn’t have the chance to finish as his warm tongue followed the path of the spilled drink, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. The surprise melted into a soft whine as his mouth moved to your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin there. He paused, pressing a chaste kiss to your fluttering pulse point.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know,” he murmured, his words a quiet echo of your own. But you barely registered them, lost in the heat of his touch. A soft chuckle rumbled from him as your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Everyone knew,” he breathed, his lips brushing your collarbone before returning to the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. A breathy moan escaped you as his hands lifted you further onto him. “Literally everyone,” he whispered, teasingly repeating your words.

You could barely process what he was saying, not with his lips tracing your skin and his strong hands gripping you like he couldn’t get enough. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently, drawing a low groan from him that vibrated against your throat.

“How am I supposed to focus on what you’re saying,” you gasped, the words tumbling out between uneven breaths, “when you’re touching me like that… making sounds like…” You swallowed hard as his hand moved to rest lightly against your throat, the pressure intoxicating. “That?”

Cassian’s eyes darkened with amusement as he pulled back slightly, just enough to create a small space between his lips and your skin. A knowing, cocky smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, his voice rich with teasing, each word a challenge.

“No—Maybe.” Your thoughts tangled into knots, the weight of his closeness stealing any coherent response. The idea of kissing him—of what it would mean after—tugged at you. Your lips quivered under the weight of unspoken words, and Cassian’s eyes dropped to them, his thumb brushing against the bottom one in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d see you this flustered over me,” he breathed, his voice a velvety murmur. “So cute… It’s everything.”

The words hit like a bucket of cold water. The amusement in his expression, the teasing—it felt like a joke to him, just something to feed his ego. Something inside you snapped, and you pulled away, raw frustration and embarrassment bubbling up to the surface. “Stop saying things like that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you pushed against his chest, breaking free from his arms. His grip slackened just enough for you to pull away completely.

“Y/n, wait—” Cassian’s voice was strained, a thread of alarm creeping into his tone.

“No!” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “Stop. It’s not cute. I’m not some… some game for you to amuse yourself with for the night, Cassian.”

“What?” He looked stunned, his brows furrowing in confusion as he reached for you again. “That’s not what—hold on!”

“I need air,” you muttered, your voice cracking. His hands reached out, desperate to stop you, but you slipped out of the booth before he could catch hold of you.

You didn’t look back as he called your name, his voice rising above the music and chatter. Instead, you moved quickly, weaving through the bodies on the dance floor. Your calculated escape took you through the densest part of the crowd, where his large frame wouldn’t be able to follow as quickly.

#acotar x reader #cassian acotar x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian x fem!reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #a court of thorns and roses #general cassian #acotar #acofas

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dippedinmelancholy · 3 days ago

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There’s some weird ass line in the beginning of ACOSF about Cassian tensing as Feyre and Nesta talk, looking like he thinks he needs to get between them to keep Nesta from hurting Feyre and I’m just left going ????????????

And this is a theme repeated in ACOSF, Cassian thinks Nesta will physically attack Feyre, Amren thinks Nesta will make a bunch of trove weapons to like, stab all of the IC (again, ?????????????), Rhysand shows his weird ‘I will kill you if you hurt my pregnant mate’ thing ONLY to Nesta.

I can get “Nesta has a harsh tongue that can be wielded like a weapon”, because, yeah that’s kind of the point, but she’s absolutely never shown any inclination for violence? Literally the only time she’s been violent is when she attacks Hybern and she has an exceptional amount of PTSD from that. Sure, she hurts Feyre’s feelings, but never once has Feyre feared for her physical safety with Nesta. Never once has Nesta shown an inclination to physically hurt people. Arguably, a huge characteristic of hers is that her body language is consistently tight and controlled. She goes so far to tell Feyre she doesn’t want to even learn violence, that she can be/wants to be strong without it. Not that Feyre gives any single fucks about that - or any other desire Nesta has.

And yet for some reason, over and over and over again, all of the IC apply these absurdly violent traits, threats, and ideals to her and it subtly pushes onto the reader that Nesta is absurdly violent, she needs to contained, and others need to be protected from her.

It’s just really absurd and honestly kind of insidious. That difficult women are violent, that Nesta poses this deep threat, that she needs to beaten down and lied to so that she can be controlled, because clearly their lives are in danger otherwise.

It just is another thing of the list of things against Nesta for no other reason than these idiots are cowards who can’t see her as anything but a weapon, and that ultimately, not a single one of them, Elain included, actually knows Nesta. They don’t know anything about her and so they assume the absolute worst.

#acotar #acotar critical #nesta archeron #pro nesta #sjm what the fuck #acosf #anti cassian #anti amren #anti rhys

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reallyhatethiswebsite · 1 day ago

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prompt. loquacious devil gets his cake and eats it: telepathy during cunnilingus.

When he offered you a reward and you told him what you wanted, you didn't expect him to agree. So when he did, since you've been such a good little mouse after all, you couldn't contain your excitment, giddily scrambling onto the bed. The devil laughed at you, a little mean, observing you languidly.

"My, my. How eager you are to see me on my knees - metaphorically or not. Perhaps I should be concerned..."

"No," you said, aware of the line to tread around Raphael. He liked it when you begged, when you simpered, when you wanted him. He liked it when you were bold. He didn't like when you were audacious. When you dared to push above your station. "I just - your mouth on me...it's..."

"Oh?" An eyebrow raised on Raphael's handsome face, a sly smile spreading his pretty, thin lips. "Is it a fantasy of yours, pet? A naughty thought that has kept you warm at night when you're lonely in your bed?"

"Yes," you murmured. Fought not to combust with embarassment at the salacious way the devil smirked at you. He was delighted by this information, you knew. His tail swayed to and fro.

"Well," he purred, "far be it from me to deny you something you've longed for."

Like a huge red panther, Raphael crawled onto the bed after you. His feline smile never faded. His big wings flexed. His size dwarfed you. You watched him, your heart pounding with anticipation. Blood roared in your ears. You let your thighs fall open for the devil's broad frame, gasping in surprise when he clicked his fingers and your trousers and small-clothes disappeared. You stuffed your knuckles in your mouth and bit them. To have Raphael between your legs like this was as electric and arousing as you imagined, but in hindsight, potentially dangerous; a predatory gleam in his eye, sharp teeth so close to your softest, most vulnerable parts...he had less penchant for biting than his incubus, but you knew from experience the possibility definitely wasn't off the table. A testament to how doomed you were that the threat didn't frighten you.

(You had no idea.)

"What's this?" Raphael crooned. Tilted his head. Dragged one claw through the softness of your pubic curls to brush over your clit and between your mons. You took in a sharp breath, but Raphael simply pulled his finger away to show you it was coated in slick. He was deeply amused. "Wet already and I haven't even started yet...how utterly pathetic your desperation for me is. But fret not, my sweet, wanton little mouse. I can keep a secret."

Before you could say anything, he sucked his claw clean, humming as he did so. "Not bad. This won't be as much of a chore as I thought."

Raphael, squatting in the space between your knees, grabbed the meat of your thighs and widened their spread, stretching almost to the point of pain. You liked the discomfort. The threat of ten sharp points, ten cambion claws piercing your skin and drawing blood. The devil stared at your sex, so close each hot puff of his breath tingled, raising all the baby hairs on your arms and the back of your neck. He stared until you began to squirm.

"Raphael," you whispered.

The devil chuckled, a deep and throaty sound that, quite literally, went to your cunt. Without fanfare, his rough warm tongue lolled out and licked you from the base of your sex to the top of your clit in a single, harsh swipe. You whined, biting deep into your own knuckles. Your other hand longed to grip one of Raphael's mighty horns, but you knew that you weren't to touch him until he allowed it, so instead you twisted your fingers into the sheets beneath you. He squeezed your flesh in his big red hands tighter, claws scratching light welts. Again he licked, and again, and again, and again; hard, harder, sloppy, effortlessly rolling the meat of his tongue against your entrance, teased it with its separate forked tips, spreading your gooey slick around as he pleased. Your back arched, pushing your aching sex into his face. Encouraging him to enter you. Lick you inside and out.

"Yes, please please please..."

So greedy. I'm already rewarding you with my generous service, and yet you're still asking for more. Perhaps I've spoiled you too much.

You twitched. You heard the devil's voice clear as day, but his mouth was occupied. You opened your eyes (you didn't know when you had closed them) and glanced down. Though he was buried in your snatch, Raphael’s reptilian eyes, onyx and fire, were fixed on you. His gaze was searing. What a fucking sight. Your stomach dropped, and then it roiled with shock and desire. He was in your head, you realised. Sifting through your thoughts like sheets of paper, projecting his words directly into your consciousness. Of course he would find a way to keep talking despite having his mouth full of pussy.

Crass.

"It's...mmm, ahh, my mind..."

Wrong. You belong to me, don't forget. What's yours is mine.

That shouldn't have thrilled you as much as it did. You felt Raphael's amusement and satisfaction about that as though it were your own. Your body trembled, guts taut. He was sucking on your labia, flattening his tongue to rub on your slick flesh everywhere except where you wanted.

Suck my clit, you thought, please, I need you to suck my clit.

You couldn't control your thoughts, though, mind racing about how gorgeous, how handsome, how beautiful he looked all the time as though he'd been carved to life by hellish angels, how fucking incredible he was between your legs, how you could come just by watching him down there because he painted such an erotic portrait lapping at your pussy that you'd be masturbating to the memory for the rest of your life but it would never feel as good as it did now, oh please suck my clit...

Hells. It was a groan, gruff, a tad irritated, but you sensed the desire in him, the fire you were igniting in his blood as you stroked his ego. Your thoughts are so chaotic, so loud. I'm tempted to lobotomise you, my needy little pet, but then whose desperate, carnal fantasies about myself would I indulge in, if not yours?

Finally, at last, he took pity on you. Enveloped your swollen clit in the moist cavern of his mouth. Sucked hard. So hard his fangs scraped you. You squealed, you couldn't help it, your legs clamping around his head. He seemed to like that. His arousal, his true fiendish nature, began leaking into his projected thoughts.

So warm. So pliant. How good your sopping quim tastes. I can smell your sweet mortal blood pumping through your veins, you know. You would let me tear you open and drink straight from the still-beating source, wouldn't you? Yesss...such a good little creature you are...

You'd let him take you to pieces. You'd do it yourself if he asked. You rutted against his face, rolling your hips in desperate pursuit of the violent orgasm you could feel pulling at all the strings that made you a person. Strings held by this devil, the puppeteer of your ruin, and your salvation. You loved him. You adored him.

And now he knew. Shit.

This time you physically felt his dark, smug, infernal satisfaction like the scuttling legs of spiders across your brain. The cruel smile pulling his lips around your fat clit. How utterly you had ruined yourself. He had ruined you.

Oh, you poor thing. You can't keep a secret at all. He cooed to your very quivering soul. Slid his serpentine tongue up your entrance suddenly, a selfish invasion, groaning in dark delight when your insides clamped around it and you shrieked. Grabbed his horns reflexively. He let you, fragmented thoughts drifting by of you split on his cock and screaming as he writhed and rutted and emptied his balls, filled you and fucked you and bred you over and over and over. You were taking his tongue so well. You'd take everything else, too. So, so greedy. But that's alright. We're going to have such fun together...aren't we?

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #fanfic #raphael the cambion #cringe

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hannamoon143 · 2 days ago

Text

Die with a Smile

Nobody‘s promised tomorrow

So imma love you every night like it‘s the last night

Cause i wanna hold you just for a while, and die with a smile

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆

Words: 5,2k

Genre: angst, fluff, comfort(…?), christmas

Hyunjin x fem. Reader

Warnings: Cancer!!!! So sickness, food, crying, sickingly sweet fluff, fears, , all i want for christmas by mariah carey (yes that needs a warning),death,non-sexual nudity (they r just bathing), cinnamon (sorry but- warning needed),

A/n: hi! I had so much fun writing this, and it‘s also for the StayblrHolidayEvent . I hope yall enjoy this also since it‘s my first christmas fic. Also as u can see it’s a bit inspired from die with a smile (bruno mars & lady gaga). Basically It’s just those lines i wrote over there kinda inspired me how to write the emotions and thoughts and stuff. So now, take ur hot chocolate, a fuzzy blanket and read! Merry christmas and happy holidays to yall🎄💕✨

You were laying down next to hyunjin, watching the other guys in front of you, while he was sketching most probably them or the decorated livingroom, or just the whole scene in front of him. Felix, Chan and Minho had come over, and now they were laughing as they decorated your tree, the rest of the livingroom, and singing christmas songs. The christmas joy had definitely taken over them, also if you couldn‘t really feel anything of it.„Don‘t you wanna get up and help them?“ Hyunjin mumbled quietly to you, not looking up from his sketch. He did that so often lately. He sketched simple scenes or things he saw, shutting almost everything else out. As if he wanted to remember everything to the smallest detail. „No, i‘m good here with you.“ You responded, laying your head on his shoulder. He sighed quietly, and kept drawing in silence for a while, the only noise was the guys bantering and christmas songs playing in the background. Then he spoke up again, quietly. „Y/nnie, you don‘t have to always sit around me and baby me alright? Don‘t think i don‘t know why you are doing this, and don‘t think i didn‘t hear you crying in the bathroom. I‘m well aware of the situation, but why can‘t we just make the best out of it? I feel like all this is getting to you more than to me, when it‘s literally me who is going to die.“ You froze at his words.

Last christmas, hyunjin had been diagnosed with cancer, and the worst was it was a type that could never be healed. They had told you that he had about one more year to live. That time you broke down entirely, and already there it was you who seemed to be more affected than him. But over a bit time you started acting normal again, not constantly being around him and doing everything for him. But now the year was coming to an end, and christmas was standing on the frontdoor. With that everything came back. You suddenly were all over him, not once leaving his side, and everytime he wanted to get up or something you pressed him down and did whatever he wanted to do for him.

The worst was you could feel it. Somewhere inside you had always hoped that the doctors were just wrong and hyunjin wouldn’t die in the next sixty years. But you saw that they were right. The way he slowly began to always eat a bit less than before, the way the circles under his eyes got darker, and his cheekbones more visible. You hated it. You didn’t hate him of course, you could never, but you hated this stupid cancer and what it was doing to your hyunjin. It was taking him painfully slow out of this world. With him getting worse you were too. You wanted to be strong for him, and for him to have the happiest last christmas ever but you couldn’t help it, the weight of the fact that soon he wouldn’t be there anymore was dragging you down too much, when you knew that it only hurt him more to see you like this, altough you always tried to hide it.

So there you were now. You stiffened and took your head off his shoulder, to look him in the eye. „Don‘t say it like that hyun-“

„No, i will in fact say it like that, cause i‘m not gonna lie to any of us for longer.I know that i‘m going to die, and you know it too okay? So why can‘t we enjoy the time left, and just do everything like we used to, instead of you constantly acting like i‘m some kind of fragile doll that could break at any moment? You acting like a overprotective mom isn‘t gonna change a single thing, as much as it hurts to hear that. Think about it y/n. Because i don‘t want to sit on this couch or in my bed the rest of my life. I‘m not doing this y/n.“ His voice was thick with emotion, and he had kicked his sketchbook away. He stood up, in fact needing a bit time to get up, and to lean onto the wall, but he went into your room, shutting the door. You stared at the closed door, with an empty hollow gaze. The other guys now excused themself and left. But before he left, chan said to you with a guilty smile: „Not everything he said is true, but you should think about some parts. Bye y/nnie.“

Now you were left alone in the silence. Hyunjin’s sketchbook was laying open on the floor, and the pages were a bit scaped now. He was going to be mad at himself for that later. You picked it up, wanting to close it, but then you saw his sketch from today. It wasn’t the scene in front of him, it was you, looking a bit sad. Under the drawing he wrote

My sad girl, 2024

When is she gonna be my happy girl again?

A tear ran down your cheek. He was always very empathetic and he hated when you felt down. Why hadn‘t you thought of the fact that you being like this only weighed him more down?

You cuddled up under the blanket that was still warm from hyunjin, tears slowly falling down. You knew he was right. Of course he wanted to enjoy his life, as long as he was still able to. Because no matter what you were going to do, it wasn‘t gonna change anything anyways, so why not enjoy instead of being sad and regretful when he was still with you, still breathing, still being able to smile at you?

After a while you could finally get yourself to go to him again. You braced yourself and got up, knocking on the door of your shared room. He just faintly sniffled. You opened the door slowly, seeing him huddled up under a blanket. He was crying, and it broke your heart. Hyunjin was a sensitive guy, and he hated arguing with loved ones more than anything, so you should have known that this would get to him, also if he was acting careless and tough. You kept being quiet, just sitting down on your side of the bed. You started stroking his hair, at wich he only started crying more. After a while of being like this in silence, the only sounds his quiet crying and the air cnditioner in the background, he lowered the blanket and looked at you with red eyes. „I don‘t want to die either y/n. I just… i‘m trying to be strong cause you are hurting so much,and i‘m so sorry for leaving you alone my love-“ His voice broke, and more tears spilled over onto his red cheeks. You opened your arms for him, and he didn‘t hesitate. He immediately moved a bit so his head was laying on your chest now. Quickly you wrapped your arms around him, kissing his head, while a few tears trailed down your cheeks too. Of course you knew. „I know, i know hyunnie. But you don‘t need to be strong all the time. I can‘t cure the cancer, but we are in this together. You can tell me how you feel, and i will give you space when you need it, but be by your side whenever you want it too. And i also promise to not act like a overprotective mom anymore.“ He chuckled a bit through his tears at that, wich made you do so too. „See, everything‘s okay. You are not alone, and as long as we can spend time together, i’ll be with you, trying to make your time left the best you ever had. How about tomorrow we make a christmas day? Like we go to the christmas market, bake gingerbread in the afternoon and sing christmas songs, all while we have ugly christmas sweaters on?“ you both started laughing, the tears finally stopping. He nodded,his face squished against your hoodie now, and his breathing was evening out. Maybe you really shouldn‘t take everything that serious. Because now it wasn‘t that point where you would have to say goodbye. You had no idea how much, but you had some time left to spend together, and you would try to make the best out of it. You would love him till the very end, and even after that, you‘d still do so. And as long as he was next to you would also tell him that, and make sure that when he had to go, he would do so in peace. So you closed your eyes, and in this little moment, everything that mattered was hyunjin, entirely squished against you, and you, holding him, as long as you could. The stars could have looked down at you two that night, and altough hyunjin was sick, and paths of the tears that you both cried earlier still lingered on your cheeks, they would have seen you two shine brighter than ever, the light not leaving, as long as you were together.

Prove reading done* until there ^

The next morning you woke up, a white comforter draped over you, and you almost had a heart attack when hyunjin was nowhere near. But then you saw him, walking in with a big grin, and one of the matching ugly christmas sweaters you had bought together sometime on.You started laughing, still half asleep and in a groggy voice. „You look…. Interesting.“ hyunjin laughed and threw something at you. It was your christmas sweater. You sighed, and you did your best to put a serious face on. His smile dropped. „Oh no- no- don‘t say you changed your mind.“ You broke out in a laugh and jumped up, putting the sweater over your pajama shirt. „God you are going to make me die even sooner with the heart attacks you give me.“ Hyunjin dramatically exhaled, gripping his chest. You just rolled your eyes at that. You were glad he was his usual dramatic self, the weight in the room that you both somehow created the past weeks, seemingly gone, replaced by a lighthearted joyful mood.

So you dressed the rest of yourself, grabbed your things and left the apartment with hyunjin. He had insisted to eat waffles at his favorite coz cafe around the corner, and not have one of your healthy breakfasts at home. You had given in, so now you were walking there, both wrapped up in coats, and fuzzy scarfs. It was cold outside, and the wind blew. There were faint smells of gingerbread and cinnamon in the air, telling you it was really getting christmas now. Well christmas was already tomorrow so how could it be different? You went into the cafe and hyunjin picked a spot at the window. On the pastell green walls there were everywhere pretty pictures, and the chairs were all different, each one looking vintage and really comfy. You ordered two waffles and two hot chocolates. As you sat there in the cozy fluffy chair, you looked at him. He looked the same as yesterday, and the days before but something was different. It wasn‘t the pink shade on his nose from the cold, or neither the Christmas sweater. No, it was that his eyes sparkled. They sparkled like they didn‘t in a long time. Maybe he was right? Maybe this was what he needed, not your experimental healthy food (that didn’t even taste good, eugh) and constant sitting around at home. Hyunjin shook you out of your thoughts. „Why are you staring?“

You shook your head with a little smile. „You‘re pretty today.“

He just laughed, assuming you were joking because of the sweater.

Your waffles and hot chocolate were served and hyunjin got excited like a kid, and immediately started munching them. You giggled, and secretly took a picture with your phone. Then you started eating too. The waffles tasted like christmas and happiness. You had never eaten such good waffles before. Maybe it was also just the feeling to sit here and eat them with hyunjin, entirely lighthearted and happy for the first time in weeks. As you were highly concentrated on your food, hyunjin suddenly spoke up. „I love you, you know that? And i always will, even when you can‘t see me anymore. But don‘t worry, i‘ll look at you getting older, achieving your dreams, and doing everything you want to, because i know you’ll do so well, even without me. And i‘ll protect you, from wherever i will be going. You‘ll always be my muse y/n.“ He sounded sincere, not sarcastic like when he was being dramatic, though he kept on eating his waffles, like he didn‘t just say something that almost made you cry and want to hold him for the rest of your life. You looked at him, tears building up a bit behind your eyes. „Hyunnie… I love you too, and always will. I don‘t know if i ever can fully move on though,… because i will always think of you when i look at the moon shining bright on the dark night sky, or when i look at the town around christmastime, everything tinted in a soft glow and everything smelling like gingerbread.“ You said, but you weren‘t as desperate and almost seeming like you would break down at any moment, like it was just a few days ago when he started talking about his death. No, you were calm, and a little, sad smile played on your lips. He was done with his waffles now, and leaned over the table to cup your cheek in his warm hand. „It‘s okay y/nnie. Grieving i a natural and healthy part of when someone you love is dying. And it‘s okay to cry, scream or vent to someone. But please don‘t do all that alone hm? I talked to the boys a few days ago, and they have all grown so close to you too over the years, they will support you, and you can grieve together. Know that you are not alone y/n, never. And i‘ll always be somewhere in there.“ He pointed at where your heart was. „And you are the strongest, bravest woman i know, so i know that you will be able to somewhat move on someday. Oh but i have one little request. Please never forget me, no matter what you choose to do in the future. I like the idea of you being reminded of me when looking at the moon or while the christmas season. I hope you are being reminded of me in a good way though, and not like a haunting nightmare way.“ He chuckled at the last part a bit. And you smiled too.

„I would never forget you love, and don’t worry about it, you‘ll always be my dream, never my nightmare.“

„Oh but one more thing. Don’t be afraid of me dying, while i’m still here. Everything is gonna be okay.“ He smiled. You both looked into each other‘s eyes for a moment there, and it felt like nothing else was existing right now. No other people, no sadness, and no cancer. Just hyunjin‘s mesmerizing dark eyes looking into yours.

You two were walking out the cafe, hand in hand, now going to the little christmas market hyunjin adored since you took him there for the first time. Since then he didn‘t spend a singly christmas season without going there.

Your breaths were coming out in little white clouds, and you put your head on hyunjin‘s shoulder. He took his hand out of yours,and instead lovingly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, and pressing a kiss to your head. You loved when he did that. If only you could stop time now, and walk in the joyful town forever with your boyfriend.

But soon you heard happy children‘s laughter, and smelled cinammon. No doubt that there was the christmas market. Hyunjin started smiling like crazy. He loved the fact that he got to see this for the last time with you. No, he wouldn’t be sad that it was the last time today, and regret things. No, he would just be so, so glad to spend this day here, forgetting the cancer that usually weighed him down, for a while. It seemed like a gift that he got this day, being with his favorite person in probably his favorite place.

Soon enough he saw a stand, with cute handmade christmas decorations. He immediately went over there, and made a adorable noise.

„Looooook y/n, it‘s a ferret with a scarf, and it looks like my scarf! We need to adopt him and hang him on our tree. I feel our bond, so no arguing on this one.“ He said dead serious. You laughed, looking at the ferret. You almost forgot how excited hyunjin always got at the christmas market, and how you had to convince him to not buy literally everything he saw. But you nodded on this one, the little deco really looking a bit like hyunjin right now, with his cute red nose and the adorable smile on his face. He went to the man who was selling it, and even gave him more money than the ferret costed. The guy happily wished him merry christmas and waved. Hyunjin just loved to make people happy, and why not do that especially now? He took your hand in his again, walking by the other stands, the shimmer of the fairylights hanging on all the stands mirroring the one in his eyes. As you were slowly walking, you, literally trying to convince hyunjin to not buy a gigantic wolf statue from the eighteenth century for chan(He was so silly, he had to gift everyone the most random things for christmas with the simple explanation: I saw that and thought of you), you suddenly felt something cold on your face. Hyunjin seemed to feel it too, because he looked up and immediately his whole face lit up even more if that was possible. „Omg Y/n it‘s snowing! This is just a perfect day, even the weather with it‘s beautiful snow is on our side.“ He talked, not really paying attention to what he was saying, just mesmerized by the white crystals.

Sometimes you took a bit time, just to admire the way he got excited over little things, in a way you would usually see it only with kids. Those moments, when joy was literally radiating from him you felt so much love and admiration for him that you could combust. You just wanted to snap a hundred pictures with that adorable smile and the shine in his eyes, and keep them forever in your heart. You brushed his hair out of his face, and your hand lingered on his cheek for a bit longer. „You‘re right hyun, this is the perfect day.“ You whispered. He just continued smiling, then lowered down to kiss you. You didn‘t feel the cold snow on your skin anymore, only your boyfriends soft lips, that tasted like cinammon and warmness, pressed to yours. As you pulled away, your foreheads were resting against each other, and you felt his warm breath on your face. „Let‘s go home now, then we can bake gingerbread and show mini Jinnie his new home.“ you giggled at his words, and nodded, your eyes not leaving his.

You walked through your apartment door, both of you giggling like lovesick fools. You took your shoes and coat off, but suddenly your feet got sweeped off the floor, and you were being carried by hyunjin. „Yah, stop it!! The doctor said no heavy lifting!“ You slapped his arm in an attempt to make him let you down but you couldn‘t even hold in your own laugh. He shook his head and dramatically said: „If not now, then when should i carry you bridal style, my lady?“ You playfully slapped his arm again and threw your head back in laughter. He just fondly smiled, lowering his head down to kiss you on the cheek, and then he carried you into the kitchen. The other guys seemed to also have decorated the kitchen because beautiful fairy lights were hung over the stoves, and some more decoration, including a mistletoe, was placed perfect. When hyunjin stopped under the mistletoe you started shaking your head. „No jinnie don‘t. Please, that‘s so cheesy,don‘t do it.“ You whined, knowing exactly he would in fact do it.He grinned and asked „May i?“ He didn‘t wait for an answer, he just softly laid his lips on yours, the kiss so tender like always. Both of you closed your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. After a while you slowly pulled away, and he murmured a soft „love you my muse“. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, smiling. „Love you too hyunnie“ your words were muffled against his sweater, but he didn‘t mind. He wouldn‘t want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

You went into the kitchen, and hyunjin let you down. You started preparing everything for gingerbread, and soon christmas songs were filling the air. With the fairy lights on, everything was tinted in a soft, cozy glow.

As you were just done with the dough and had placed it to rest somewhere ‘all i want for christmas‘ started playing. „Oh my favorite christmas song.“ He chimed, preparing a spoon as a microphone. You looked at him in shock. „Sorry what?? Don‘t tell me we are together for literally six years, and i had no idea that your favorite christmas song is all i want for christmas. How can you have these muscles, and act all flirty but suddenly be like a lovesick teeny girl?“

A endearing pout played on his lips. „It‘s a classical, don‘t judge me!“ You sighed but started giggling. As the refrain of the song came, hyunjin threw his hair back (Nuh uh seriously, who was this diva?) and he began to loudly sing into the spoon. You laughed, but couldn‘t resist him. You grabbed a spoon toom, and put it up to your mouth, singing along with him. He then wrapped his one arm around your waist, and with the other one he held his ‘microphone‘ , singing „All i want for christmasss is youuuuu“ And then pointing at you. You started dancing around together too. In a little clumsy pirouette move, where you would never think this man was a professional dancer, Hyunjin accidentally threw a bag of flour off the stove. In only a few seconds you both and the whole floor were coated in a thick layer of flour. For a moment you were both flabbergasted, but soon you bursted out laughing, and hyunjin just kept singing like it was nothing. This whole moment felt so heartwarming and silly, you just knew this was one of those moments you would still think of in twenty years. Hyunjin ended his little concert with one more time singing the refrain line and then he picked you up and swirled you around, the flour flying around in the air. You squealed, not expecting it, wich only made him chuckle. As he let you down again, he pulled you close again, pressing a kiss to your forehead, not caring that now flour was on his lips.„I love you so much.“

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him, so now you were both wrapped up tightly in each others embrace, not caring about the fact that you were just distributing the flour even more.

„You said that so often today.“

„Yes because i never ever want you to forget it, alright love?“ he held you jut a bit tighter, and you felt his nose nuzzling against your neck.

„alright.“

„Good. Let‘s just stay like this for a little while longer? You look cute in flour.“

„As long as you want to.“ you smiled softly and laid your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

After a while the flour got a bit itchy though, you both had to admit. So you went into your room, getting some clothes for you and hyunjin, while he went into the bathroom to run a bath. You took your matching christmas pajamas, the fluffy one with gingerbread men on it. As you came into the bathroom, hyunjin was turning on the water, putting some of your favorite cinammon-bath salt in it. He had also lit some candles, and turned off the big light, so the whole bathroom was tinted in golden light. You both undressed, and you stepped into the tub first, sitting down at the end of it. Hyunjin waited and raised a brow. „Don‘t you want me to sit behind you like usual? You always like when i massage your scalp, or your tense shoulders“ You gently smiled up to him. „Today i‘m gonna do all that for you. It was so wonderful to just forget everything today, and with the christmas market and the snow, everything was just perfect. But you‘re still my sick baby. So sit down, today it‘s me who is gonna massage your scalp.“ Hyunjin‘s eyes filled with tears, and a fond smile crept up to his lips. He got into the bathtub too, sitting down between your legs, like you usually did with him. You soon gently started to run your fingers through his hair, and he closed his eyes, cherishing the feeling. After a while you felt his muscles completely relax, and his breathing get slow and steady, almost like his body was melting into yours. You held him tight, one hand still in his hair, and from time to time you kissed his shoulder, like he always did to you.

After a while when you almost thought he had fallen asleep he murmured: „The water‘s getting cold.“

You hummed. „Let‘s get out, and get you to sleep jinnie.“

„But the gingerbread.“ He mumbled, but his eyes were already closed. You smiled and he whined as you got up and out of the tub. „We can still make the little gingerbread men, and ferrets and whatever you want, tomorrow.“ You took a fluffy towel, and wrapped it around yourself. Then you got another one, and tried dragging hyunjin out of the water.

„But then it‘s already christmas day. That‘s against the rules my lady.“ You chuckled at his sleepy confused mumbling. „We are making our own rules.“ You took the towel and slowy dried him off. Then you softly pushed him down to sit on the bathtub edge and put him on his pajamas. „You are taking care of me so well love… Never gonna stop loving you, i‘ll protect my muse at all costs, even when i‘m not physically with you anymore.“ He mumbled, so incoherent and sleep drunken you almost didn‘t understand it. „I know jinnie, i know. Now let‘s get you to bed, hm?“ He whined, and after you quickly put on your own pajamas too, you helped him get up and you both went to bed. As he laid down, you pulled the comforter up to his chin, lovingly stroking his hair. Then you got into bed too, closing your eyes. When you were already at the edge of sleep you suddenly heard hyunjin speak up again. „Y/n?“

„Hmm?“ „Please say it back“

„What are you talking bout.“

„That you love me. I‘m so tired already, but somehow i feel like i won‘t fall asleep if you don‘t say it.“

If you would have thought about that, maybe you could have somewhere already thought that it was coming. Hyunjin‘s pure soul was bracing itself for something, as if he knew.

„I love you. Forever and ever.“

And then you both drifted off.

When you woke up, you didn‘t immediately open your eyes. But you knew. You felt it. You could never describe this feeling, or how you would know, but you had no doubt your hyunjin was somewhere else now. Somewhere far away. And when you finally did open your eyes you took a second to breathe in. You slowly sat up and braced yourself. Then you looked to your side. There he was, looking like he was sleeping peacefully. You didn‘t know if you were imagining that or if it was real but it seemed like even a small smile was laying on his lips. You were oddly calm, as you stood up, and walked around to hyunjin‘s side.

You crouched down next to the bed, and with a slight tremble you took his hand in yours. It was still a bit warm. You pressed a kiss to it, as a silent tear rolled down your cheek. „Hey hyunnie. I don‘t know if you can hear me, but i just want to tell you that i love you okay? Don‘t forget that. And i hope you weren‘t in pain when it happened. Just know that you can peacefully go wherever you are supposed to go now. It‘s okay for me. I will continue living, also if the pain of your absence will daily remind me of the fact that you aren‘t with me anymore. But that‘s okay. I thought that this pain is the worst, but it makes me remember you, and that‘s what i want to do for the rest of my life, so actually i will be okay with it. That day yesterday was really a perfect day, as you said. I guess somehow our souls knew that soon they would have to say goodbye to each other. It helped me realize that when you die i won‘t have to act all strong, and feel like suffocating when i‘m alone. Oh by the way, i‘ll call the guys soon, and tell them. Then i‘ll bake our gingerbreadmen okay? And i‘ll be taking good care of mini jinnie, so you don‘t have to worry about him and his little scarf.“ You smiled through the tears running down your cheeks, that were silently landing on the bed next to hyunjin.

„So hyunnie, i bet you are wating for me to finish my dramatic boring speech so you can finally go in peace, hm? I wish you merry christmas my one and only love.“ You kissed his hand tenderly for the last time, a single little tear dripping down onto it.

Taglist: @0omillo0 @lina-linny @darqlys

@onementally-unstabel-kid @idek6758 @sadie-tucker @kozumesphone

@urlocalmultigroupfan @thoughtfularbiternightmare @lezleeferguson-120

@stayblrofficial hello this is my submission for the stayblrholiday event! For some reason I can’t send y’all the link but yeah I hope tagging is okay too!<3

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eiightysixbaby · 2 days ago

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a holiday meet-cute

robin buckley x fem!reader

another fic for @littlexdeaths 12 days of promptmas 😌 prompt: you need a last minute gift, but man that salesclerk sure is cute…

The mall is packed.

You can’t really be surprised, what with Christmas being in two short days. Turns out you aren’t the only person in town who waited until the last second to buy a gift.

You’d thought you had all of your gifts in order, until one of your friends decided to mention they got you an unexpected gift, and now you felt obligated to return the favor.

You loosen the scarf around your neck, unbuttoning your coat now that you’re safe from the elements. You glance around the mall somewhat aimlessly, letting your feet carry you. Your gaze snags on the bookstore, eyes lighting up at the sight.

Bingo.

Trailing inside, you’re met with shelf after shelf of books. You don’t really know where to begin looking, you just hope that you’ll know when you find the right one. You brush past other shoppers, eyes roaming over the spines and covers of various novels.

“Did you need help finding anything?” a voice asks, breaking you from your shopping trance.

You turn, fingers still gently grazing the spine of one of the books on the shelf before you, and when you meet the face of the salesperson, your heart skips a beat.

She’s gorgeous. Stunning, bright blue eyes and freckles sprinkled over her face. Dirty blonde hair with bangs that suit her well. She looks at you expectantly, but there’s an almost nervous edge to her demeanor. Your eyes catch her name tag. Robin is written in blue marker, squiggles and dots and other designs littering the blank space around her name.

“Oh, um, no,” you stammer awkwardly. “I’m just looking for a last minute gift for a friend,” you tell her, feeling your cheeks grow warm under her stare.

“That one is actually one of my favorites”, she says, motioning with a nod of her head to the book where your fingers rest.

You follow her gaze, looking back at the book to pull it off of the shelf, though you find you don’t really want to stop looking at her.

“I-I’ve recommended it to all of my friends,” the salesclerk continues. “My friend Steve — he literally never reads — finally read that a couple months ago and he loved it. Talked my ear off about it afterwards. I almost regretted recommending it in the first place,” she laughs kind of nervously, chewing at her lip as if to keep herself from saying more.

You find the personal anecdote adorable, taking her recommendation seriously.

“Hm,” you ponder, staring at the cover of the book now in your hands. “I think you’ve just convinced me,” you tell her, watching as her eyes visibly brighten.

“Really?” she asks, her voice suddenly so quiet.

“Mhm,” you nod. “My friend, the one I’m buying for, hasn’t read in a while and they’ve been looking for something to get them back in the groove.”

The girl lights up, smiling so big. It takes all you’ve got not to reach out and trace the little laugh lines on her face. Instead you smile back at her, and maybe you hold each other’s gaze for a minute too long, but maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m so glad I could help,” she says finally, cheeks turning pink as her eyes dart away. “Do you want me to check you out?” she asks, before her eyes go wide. “I mean, like, ring you out. Not check you out like, check you out. Oh, god,” she trails off, but her embarrassment only makes you more smitten with her.

“That would be great,” you tell her, giggling softly to yourself as she nods and turns, skittering away like a mouse.

You follow, weaving through the shelves and up to the checkout counter. She takes your book, scanning it for you, and you find yourself tracing the freckles on her cheeks as she works.

“So, are you excited for the holiday?” she asks you. The small talk is welcome — anything to keep you here longer.

“I’m more excited now that my shopping is all done,” you reply. “Do you have any plans?” you ask, handing her the money for your purchase.

“Ah,” she says, expression turning kind of sad. “Not this year. I usually go back home for the holidays, but I couldn’t swing it this year between work and school.”

“Oh,” you frown, giving her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I know how that feels.”

There’s a pause, her pretty hands placing your book in a small paper bag, your eyes already on her when she looks up to meet them.

“You know, my friends and I are having a little get together. On— on Christmas Day,” you start. “Everyone always has a date and, well, I don’t have one.”

Her head tilts ever so slightly to the side, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth.

“I know we just met and you don’t even know my name or literally anything, but… if you wanted to come with me—” you stop yourself, suddenly self-conscious.

But the look in her eyes is so hopeful, it encourages you to go on.

“We’d love to have you. I’d— I’d love to help make your holiday less lonely. Since you helped me so much today, with the gift.”

“Am I attending this party as your date?” she asks, emphasizing the last word cutely, her voice gone so soft you have to lean forward to hear her.

Your face warms, fingers fidgeting on the countertop.

“If that’s okay with you, Robin,” you say, and the smile that crosses her face at the use of her name makes you certain you’ve made the right move.

The line of customers behind you grows, people in a hurry to get out and on their way. You both recognize this at the same time, and you shoot her an apologetic glance.

“I’d love to come,” Robin says, flipping your receipt over and scribbling something down. “That’s my number,” she says, handing you the slip of paper. “I’m off at 7 today, if you want to call. Or anything.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

With the receipt clutched in your hand and the book tucked under your arm, you give her a small wave before leaving the bookstore.

Your heart flutters in your chest as you look down at her writing, the glittery gel pen’s ink making each number sparkle.

Christmas can’t come fast enough.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fanfiction #thetwelvedaysofpromptmas 🎄#divider by strangergraphics

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maddy-k-reads-all-day · 2 days ago

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Things I noticed in the Play My Way music video

Also Play My Way is canon! I will not be arguing about this with people who haven't bothered to check the several people who have not checked the SEVERAL places confirming this. That said, I will start thinking about how this connects to Amanda canon at some point and just theories in general.

is it just me or does it look like it says: "Am in Hell?" just without the i?

When Amanda first says "No" to it being Wooly's turn he immediately looks at us. Suspicious.

That said, he seems really concerned during the whole conversation.

I find it interesting since this song is part of the continuity of the official "hide and seek" pilot tapes... that implies that this probably takes place before the first two games right? I mean, Amanda and Wooly are still somewhat friends here. That said, it's interesting that Amanda allows Wooly to have his turn, in-game Amanda wouldn't do this without being forced, but she just agrees and says: "That's fair."

Also when Amanda agrees Wooly looks really happy/excited? Which is strange... because like instantly once their separated he starts freaking out? Like why is he so scared anyway? It's his turn at hide and seek! The turn he asked for! I honestly think this was what started my little theory that prior to their falling out, Wooly was a bit more clingy with Amanda. Like more in an anxiously-attached sort of way. Like the way a shy kid hides behind their more adventurous friend.

I realized there are only so many images allowed in a tumblr post... so I'm going to make each segment a separate post alright?

Here are some non-image related things I noticed:

When Amanda says "never ends" the backdrop around her glitches.

I think the line "make believe that we have a choice what you play with me" kind of implies that Amanda doesn't have much free will over the games they play in these episodes.

The whole "it's my turn now" sequence is super interesting. Because like Wooly isn't really upset at first, but he actually gets angry about this. He seems to get scared when Amanda yells but doesn't seem to be afraid of her specifically.

Finally, in the ending scene (I've talked about the other scenes in other posts go check them out 😄)

Is it just me or does Wooly suddenly look... really unsettled about this question? And Amanda looks really... sarcastic? Annoyed? Did someone ruin her fun? Did she think she found some freedom only to realize she's still just as trapped as before?

Then Wooly makes THIS face. What are you hiding Wooly I'm onto you!

Also, Amanda looks really happy when she says "It is" it's us... I wonder who she's seeing. Like... us literally or? Kate? Or Riley? Hmm... I'm inclined to think since this takes place in the library before the first game (that's my theory anyway) that she realizes this is Kate. Like... she recognizes Kate. And Wooly kind of awkwardly backs away when she does so hmm...

Also this frame with Amanda looking tired and sad as she holds the hands off all the other kids trapped in the tapes (that's my interpretation anyway). OMG PRECIOUS SWEETHEART I AM SO SORRY I EVER DOUBTED YOU!

These poor kids man... I hope they get some sort of happy ending. Like... at least release them even if they are dead. Like their souls find peace PLEASE.

Also Wooly with Wooly's actual VA showing up late like: I'm ready for the music video! Was hilarious and cute.

Anyway I'm gonna go. I'll probably talk more about this later. Let's discuss!

#amanda the adventurer #amanda the adventurer 2 #maddykpost #wooly the sheep #ata 2 #amanda the adventurer wooly #amanda the adventurer theory #play my way

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lavendermin · 20 hours ago

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disasterology | boothill

boothill x reader, mad scientist reader

wc | 1.7k

genre | light banter, ambiguous relationship

warnings | nsfw, artificial cyborg guts, suggestive, body horror, love bug (literally via data transfer), mentions of giving boothill a womb, boothill bluescreens

note | my piece as part of the autumn festival collab hosted by @owlespresso ^^ I’ll probably make a part two to this to squeeze in more banter and get some actual freaky stuff in

“You’re back at my lab… A little soon, no?” The question is thrown at Boothill without a spared glance as you are engrossed in several tasks at once. The Galaxy Ranger makes his way over to your mess of screens and tools by your main work desk, his strides reminiscent of someone a little too comfortable in your bubble.

“Annual checkup. Don’t tell me you forgot already, doc?” Boothill teases with feigned hurt, sharp teeth flashing with his playful grin.

“Not a doctor,” you correct him flatly.

A holo-screen appears before his face, stopping him from nearing your concentrated form. A flurry of data scrolls by and a pop-up appears with a few dates.

With a few final taps you swivel toward him and the screen. “According to your record in my data bank, you’re not due for your checkup for another nine weeks,” you state matter-of-factly. With a few taps and a swipe, the screen is gone and you meet Boothill’s gaze for the first time. “So, what’s the actual reason you’re here? Surely not just a friendly visit to the resident witch or whatever they’re calling me these days on this planet.”

“Recent scrap didn’t end too well. Leg’s been acting up.”

Your eyes scan him briefly, humming in thought as you enter new data and access his file.

“I definitely noticed a few new scratches to your outer shell armor,” you note, speaking more to yourself as you log the new data. “I’ll run some tests and analyze further.”

You roll back in your chair near him, gathering a few tools here and there and holding an emesis basin in front of him. Boothill squints at you in confusion, a frown pulling down his lips in a glimmer of dangerous, sharp teeth.

“Here. Spit them out—all the ammo you have. Now.”

His eyes sharpen, but he relents with a grunt. The metal of the bullets hitting the basin is all that fills the silence as you return to some screens and rummage through rows of drawers and drawers that line the walls.

It’s a chaotically organized yet unorganized lab, to say the least.

“There’s an empty box near you. Go ahead and remove all of your outerwear and any other weapons so we can get started,” you instruct as you prepare a table nearby.

Boothill begins to protest. “Doc, it’s just my leg. I don’t need–”

When he turns back to your desk you’re gone from sight. It unnerves him and you appear behind him seemingly from thin air.

“Hey–!”

You plug several chords into a few outlets on his hip. The feeling of the data processing through multiple base drives makes his entire body feel like numbing static courses through it.

Your face is close. Too close.

“Let's get a base-read on what’s going on here for now. I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed if you’re modest like that.” Your eyes flit down and you smirk. “Not like I haven’t seen your full model before.”

His face flushes a bright crimson and he sputters, shoving you away. You laugh out loud, unsettling and loose as you go back to your screens. It’s become more apparent with each visit that you aren’t entirely sound of mind.

“I still wonder why your face flushes red when your synthetic blood is blue. Perhaps I’ll find out today,” you grin, looking up and being met with a metallic click and the barrel of a gun between your eyes.

There’s a fierceness in Boothill’s glare, red cheeks betraying his threat. Though his hand is steady, your monitors signal increased levels of core maintenance and adrenaline. He doesn’t know how to handle your teasing— never will.

“I don’t have time to be yer forkin’ lab rat,” he sneers.

Your expression remains calm, unbothered as a lazy smile makes way to your lips. It’s an irksome sureness that makes the ranger’s eye twitch and teeth grit. Perhaps that’s simply your insanity creeping into him as well.

It draws him in like a moth to a flame. And he convinces himself that he hates it.

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t put a bullet in yer head for crossing me?”

“Plenty of reasons. But really I only need one.”

“Yeah? And what’s that, sweets?” He scoffs, patience running thin.

You gently tap a knuckle over his heart core, the area making a soft metal clank as you do so. Boothill falls silent for a moment as you say nothing more. The mental gears turn a little harder than usual and suddenly his face is hot. Too hot.

“Wh– What– Who ever said I liked ya like that?! A ranger doesn’t get wrapped up in those feelings, ya hear?!”

And you fucking smirk.

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating. All I meant was that you wouldn’t get rid of your one and only mechanic on this side of the galaxy, would you? Who else would be stupid enough to take all your last minute tuning appointments and repair jobs after reckless battles? You need me, ranger.” You pause and shift your gaze directly at him. “No reason to get so defensive. Unless… you have feelings for me?”

“Negative feelings,” he seethes.

But you’ve seen right through him. It’s an act of pity that you just chuckle and resume your work on diagnosing some of the sensors around his midriff. Still enough to keep the cowboy grumbling and red in the face.

“Feelings nonetheless,” you chuckle under your breath as you swivel back to the flurry of incoming data. “I’ll head to the back to grab a few things I’ll need and see if a few spare parts are lying around that are similar to some of your fractured hip joints. Do not touch anything.”

Once you’re out of sight, Boothill grumbles and removes his hat and jacket. The bright industrial lights only serve to irk him more— never was one to like hospital settings.

It’s a bit more of a predicament when the wires attached to his hip get in the way of removing his bottoms. He clicks his tongue and listens as your fumbling in the distance remains constant.

Whatever. Damn cables are in the way. What is he to do? He yanks them off and removes the last of his articles, shoving them in the box off to the side you left for him.

“Fork me,” he grumbles. There’s an unruly mess of cables on the floor, most of which look the same and range in color. Naturally, none are labeled.

Just his luck.

One of your monitors beeps and a few pop ups come up as the data flow abruptly ends. In a panic, Boothill grabs a red and a black cable and plugs them in. He clicks a few of the pop ups to make them go away and resume whatever they asked. He didn’t have time to read whatever jargon it said, not that he would have understood it anyway.

He’s seated and on the examination table by the time you walk back in with a few boxes stacked in your arms.

A warm hum settles in his core with his data processor kicking in. It’s pleasant, albeit an odd sensation.

You set down the boxes and glance at the screens, humming with thought. The pause is a beat too long and Boothill can only hope you don’t prod. You tap a few things on the screen and approach him with a smile.

“Alright. Pain receptors are off and your maintenance mode is on. Let’s get started.”

—

Only about forty minutes have passed but it’s becoming increasingly clear to Boothill that something is clearly wrong. He’s used to certain processes being shut off while you work on him— that part is normal.

Right now, he can’t seem to take his eyes off you. And you won’t spare him a glance as you work, much too engrossed in his guts— literally. He huffs and you don’t bother looking at him. It pisses him off.

“If you’re feeling discomfort use your words, ranger,” you mutter without missing a beat. “If your pain processors kicked in due to something that went wrong I need to know before you blow up on me.”

Your tug at a particular wire makes him gasp, his grip on the edge of the table warping the metal.

“Fork– Watch it!” His breath shakes with a gasp, face flushed.

“You didn’t exactly come with a manual.”

“Please don’t say that while yer hands are in my guts.”

You snicker, ignoring his glare as you continue to work methodically.

“I could always give you new insides if I mess these up,” you tease smoothly, fingers deeper still in his abdominal cavity. “Would you like it if I gave you a womb?”

Boothill huffs with a shiver as you tug at that same wire again, his back arching slightly off the cold, metal table. His mouth hangs open, unable to say a word. It’s overwhelming, an intense sensation that he feels in every artificial nerve end.

You call his name once more— so sweet and full of concern. The auditory hallucinations have begun from the wrong dataset he hooked himself up to earlier. Your voice in actuality is much more nonchalant than he processes.

“Booth? Ranger? Are you still with me?” You tap his cheek, his eyes darting shakily around the room. Red hearts for irises replace his usual programmed eye setup when he blinks to glance at you. You sigh. “I told you not to touch anything didn’t I?”

“Yer… my soulmate.”

“No,” you deadpan, flicking your wrist to bring up a holo-screen before you. Seems the neuro-processors couldn’t sort the wide range of the artificial emotion dataset and developed a love bug. “Boothill, if you can still understand me beyond the love bug, I’ll be turning on your standby function for a few minutes to finish.”

You’re not sure if he heard you at all, watching as whatever he heard in his bugged brain makes him red in the face and shiver.

Then, he blue-screens and all is quiet after his metal body clangs against the table.

You heave a sigh, a smile still on your lips. “Only your soulmate would put up with a ranger this obtuse.”

#boothill x reader #nsf mii #mii writes #cw body horror #cw cyborg guts #cw love bug #cw artificial womb mention #I need that cyborg every which way #he’s my babygrill #cw suggestive #mad scientist reader #hsr boothill #if I’m forgetting any tags lmk!#ambiguous relationship

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fangedxnight1836 · 1 day ago

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Characters of the day:

The Flags!! - From Stormbringer.

They were a youth “benefits” society featured within the Port Mafia. They were all successful candidates to become the next executives. They were described as being equal or better than Chuuya. Originally called the “Young People’s association”, with all members being aged 25 or younger.

Piano man

Some facts about him:

Leader of the flags

Eldest in the group

Clothes are always black and white

one who invited Chuuya to be in the organisation

The only person who was good at dealing with the super-bills of the mafia

uses an electric carbon steel piano wire gun which is where he got his nickname

HC’s:

He has a delayed reaction when it comes to people telling him jokes.

He has a lot of blackmail when it comes to all the members of the flags (including Chuuya).

As the leader of the group he makes people do all his work and when they say no he pouts while showing his blackmail.

he has a swear jar which only gets filled by albatross and Chuuya.

Lippmann

Some facts about him:

described as being very attractive, appealing to both genders.

his job was very important as he is the point of negotiation between the port mafia and the public

he is a movie star with “crazed fans all over the world”

His ability directly reacted with the attackers murderous intent, impossible to kill him quietly.

HCs

he’s literally the biggest diva alive.

Everyone loves him in the group.

He is the best judge of character and everyone asks him for advice. He says his favourite movie is the notebook but it’s actually all his own movies.

He is the best dressed, and is never caught lacking or having a bad hair day.

Albatross

Some facts about him:

Chuuya and him live in the same “luxurious apartment complex”.

he drags Chuuya out from his room to various battlefields with different transport methods each time. This annoys Chuuya

the flag which is the closest to Chuuya. (Chuuya does have friends, other than what people usually depict him as)

Good at using different vehicles and was trusted by the mafia to use them, in battle. Gave Chuuya his bike after he died 😭. (The pink one).

Some HC’s:

He often influences Chuuya in joining him on some daily pranks to annoy people.

He creates random cuss words to say at people.

He can skate board.

He and Chuuya bully Doc and iceman replacing their wardrobe with each others .

Doc

Some facts about him:

He has saved and deliberately taken around 800 lives,

Among the Port Mafias medical team, he was the best.

His goal was to get closer to God by saving 2 million people, which is why he joined the Mafia. He is waiting for a large scale conflict to allow him to save those lives.

He got his doctorate in Medical science from North America.

Some HC’s:

If he were to be alive or born in a different time line, the show human earthworm in Jujutsu Kaisen would be one of his favourites.

I fear he has insomnia.

He and Ice man rant all the time together.

He scares Chuuya with random over exaggerated incidents people had coming to get healed from him and how he needs to be careful and the battlefield.

Iceman

Some facts about him:

Second eldest in the group

Doesn’t have an ability

Hitman who uses objects around himself to finish the job, not using an ability or weapons

Has a physical constitution which allows him to sense when an ability is activated nearby

Known as a man of the shadows

His kill ratio is higher than that of ability combat users

Some HC’s:

He shows up to Doc for noreason just to complain.

Ice man has the best drinks stashed in his room. (Gatekeeped)

His most painful experience other than battling Verlaine was probably stepping on Lego.

He’s a chill guy fr.

He’s good at pool and often shows off.

#characterofthedayfxk #bungou stray dogs #bsd stormbringer #paul verlaine #bsd #chuuya nakahara #bsd dazai #bsd iceman #pianoman #piano man bsd #albatross bsd #doc bsd #bsd doc #bsd pianoman #bsd albatross #the flags bsd #the flags #port mafia

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ashlynthecarrottop · 2 days ago

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SONIC RANT!1!1!1!

My review for Sonic 3 >>>

Okay, first of all, WHAT!? The story line and character designs are insane!! I love how they created Shadows character and how keanu reeves kept is voice slam or good for whatever reason because of how Shadow’s character really is like.

Gotta add points to having Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles still as the greatest team the whole movie, even when Sonic left them out of his rage. I thought it was so sweet when they threw that little party for Sonic when he first got to earth, I just thought the little references with Tom and Sonic from the first movie was so nice to see and just overall a great start.

Tbh, I thought the part when Sonic and Robotnik were talking about family and how he didn’t have any was a great part on why he acted like a inspired child towards his grandfather when he showed up. I think it was weird but interesting on how they made robotniks grandfather, also Maria’s grandfather…sooo…does that make them siblings-? IDK JUST A THEORY- MATPAT CMERE

The greatest part of the movie to me was the end when both Sonic and Shadow used the emeralds to use their ability TOGETHER to save earth. The slow-mo scenes of them and just the duo coming into a movie was just so awesome for me to see.

MY LEAST FAVORITE PART IS WHEN SHADOW DIED WITH ROBOTNIK!! LIKE I GET ROBOTNIK BUT WHY SHADOW??? HES MY FAVORTIE WHYD YOU HAVE TO DO THAT😭🤚

But to be fair, shadow isn’t apart of Sonic’s actual team. We can see that through old shows like Sonic boom and all them when we have his team full of knuckles, tail, any, rouge and all them, but shadow isn’t apart of it. If he is he’s there as the idea of an episode, or just there in the background for a problem. So even though it’s sad that he was killed, at least he did it to save the world.

CHARACTER RANT

Sonic>>

Of course, the blue-blur is at it again, never sad, and always has the biggest ego. LOLL-

I’m glad they kept his character the same, it definitely was a plus to keep the movie was flopping like most people thought- only because it’s the third movie. I thought it was so sweet and emotional when Sonic near the end was in rage and trying everything to get revenge because shadow hurt Tom. Even though he knew it was wrong in the end, I still couldn’t help but feel that he did that more because he cared, then revenge, and that stood with me through that entire scene. So overall, Sonic in this movie, and just like all the others, didn’t disappoint

10/10

Tails>>

Gotta say, I have no complaints, over then he didn’t get enough screen time. Tails gadgets and positive attitude is cute and just fits him perfectly like it always has. I’m always impressed with the development and change in Tails mechanics because it definitely got better from the holograms to the gadgets stopping Robotnik. And the part when the little girl said he looked like detective pikachu was so cute and true I swear😂🤚

10/10

Knuckles>>

Just like Sonic, his character didn’t let me down with him wanting to be on top, and be the smashy smashy guy and it was just funny to hear him again after 2 years. I don’t know if anyone notices but he does speak like everyone else, but he doesn’t speak fully it’s like he takes away the words that aren’t needed…for example

Normal ppl - “So this is love”

Knuckles - “I feel the love”

Soo….yeah

10/10

Shadow>>

LEMME JUST SAY. KEENU REEVES DID NOT DISAPPOINT, and his character design and actions were just so cute to me and I love him so much😭😭…If I’m being honest I could probably do another rant but it’s literally just about how much I love shadow. Form him on the motorcycle, to him with Maria, to the flashbacks and change in emotion, to when he was with the emeralds, to him just being him, I love it all. I thought his backstory with Maria really shot through with this movie and I really enjoyed it.

“The world still shines when the star is gone”

-Maria & Shadow

100/10

The robotniks

Just..sigh,..no . Only good part of this movie was the dance when they were going through the lasers, nothing more.

Robotnik - 7/10

Grand papi - 2/10

And let me shut say that I feel bad for dr stone bro. He also most drowned, was rejected multiple times by Robotnik during this movie and then got replaced with robotniks terrible excuse for a family member😭🤚

Justice for stone🙏

8/10

ENDING RANT

FIRST OFF. We’re 3 movies in now, if you don’t sit in your chair and sit for after the credits to see the downfall of the next movie your an opp and not a real sonic fan ALR!? I said it.😤 BUT ANYWAYS-

WE GOT THE ROBOT SONICS!? I CALLED IT-!

AND AMY?!?!?!??

yo I can’t wait 2 or more years for this😭🤚…it was torture waiting for this movie to be finished. But I think it’s gonna be funny and cute to see a bit of Sonic and any shipping and blushing and cute crushing stuff lol.

So overall, I loved this movie and we be watching it on repeat for forever til SONIC 4 BABY!!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fandom #sonic 3 #shadow the hedgehog #tails the fox #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #metal sonic #sonic 4 #ranting

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pomefioredove · 2 days ago

Note

(i suspect tumblr ate this ask so i'm resending it in the name of epelcember, but if it wasn't eaten and it's just hanging out in your ask box i'm so sorry for sending you this monster twice please ignore this and you are allowed to hunt me for sport now. legally.)

i think living at ramshackle during vdc would be for epel! ^_^ yes he did have to use all his strength to not start screaming and crying and throwing up out of sheer nerves the second it was announced they'd be staying at ramshackle. but like it's cool. he's chill guys.

giggling, kicking his feet, thinking about how cool they are as he watches them from around the corner hunched over crowley's their paperwork full shrimp mode. trying to lean on the doorframe all suave like only for the old ass wood to give out and make him eat shit. etc etc

if you wanna get a bit angsty with it, he'd probably notice they way they just slowly start to... deflate?? as soon as they get back to ramshackle after school or practice. their bright demeanour fades and they politely shy away from anymore interaction, heading to their room, shoulders slumped. he knows what it's like to have to put up a facade like that, but it's equally not as fun when you know you're one of the people someone feels the need to hide their true self from. he just wants to protect them!!!! (i will never shut up about how yuu's lines in book 6 where it seems they've become genuinely insecure about not having magic and not being able to help as much as they want)

also i can not get over that one time he woke yuu up in the morning. why did he do that? did i dream that? i don't think i did because i literally screamed in fear when it happened. imagine waking up to a little purple freak staring down at you. with blue eyes no less. who gave him the right.

ANON MY INBOX IS A MESS. I keep getting asks and then when I try to see them they disappear ;-; has happened like ten times now it's driving me INSANE

EPELCEMBER LIVES ON!

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚asks!#epelcember #I would also probably scream if it was epel. if it was rook I'd be like well it's rook. he's probably watched me sleep every night this wee

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cinnaleaf · 7 hours ago

Text

「 Rouxed Up | A Very Merry Footballer Ficmas 」

summary: you bring your man home for an american christmas while you try to survive your chaotic family | MDNI 18+

warnings: smut, dom/sub dynamic, dirty talk, language, chaotic family, cultural specificity (black southern american), southern slang, food mentions, mentions of alcohol, humour 🎅🏾: my writer elf worked very hard on this to make it special for the american girlies | pt 4 of my ficmas series wc: ~5.9k

You should’ve known things were going to be chaotic the minute you turned onto the street where you grew up. Houston suburbs were excessive, especially during Christmas. There were overly large brick houses lined with lights that doubled the electric bill, inflatable Santas, reindeer, and other decorations fighting for space in every yard. Your parents’ house wasn’t any different: it was a sprawling 4 bedroom home with a front yard cluttered with holiday decorations, lights, and an inflatable football. Your mom swore it was festive enough to win the homeowner’s association holiday contest this year, but they lost to the neighbors across the street for the second year in a row.

“I guess they do it big in Texas, huh?” Aurélien asked while sliding out of the car to stretch his long legs.

“Always” you answered back, reaching to pull a foil pan full of red beans and rice from the backseat. “This isn’t real Texas though baby. You’re about to step right into Louisiana as soon as we get inside the house.”

You weren’t exaggerating. After the hurricane, your entire family packed up and started over in Houston. They may have swapped New Orleans shotgun houses for oversized Texas bricks, but the food, accents, and chaos all came with them. Now, you were dragging your French footballer boyfriend into the chaos so he could see what a Creole Christmas looked like. He was hype for weeks, asking you nonstop questions about the food, NOLA bounce remixes, if your family had any relation to Beyoncé, and if anyone in the family still spoke French.

When you walked inside, the house was alive with uncles yelling at an NFL game on a large tv in the living room. Your cousins were running around playing hide and seek in rooms they knew they weren’t supposed to be running around in. The smell of seafood stock cooking hit your nose first – shrimp shells, water, and various aromatic vegetables and herbs were bubbling in a pot so big it could feed a small army. The kitchen was at max capacity as your grandma barked orders while your aunt Beverly was busy icing a pound cake.

“Y/N, baby!” Your grandma spotted you before you could even set the tin pan down. She quickly washed her hands and waddled over to you to pull you into a hug that smelled like a mix of cajun seasonings and White Diamonds perfume. “You finally brought him back with you! What’s his name..Leon??”

“Aurélien.” you corrected her politely, enunciating it so she could get it right.

Aurélien stepped forward with a polite, meet the family smile while your grandma looked him up and down quickly and then put on the glasses that were sitting on top of her head to get a clearer look. “Hmm..he’s tall. Very handsome too. Your taste ain’t too bad, I’ll give you that. You must’ve got that from me because your mama never picked ‘em right when she was your age.”

“I told y’all he was fine,” one of your aunts added while checking the pecan pie in the oven.

“Nana..auntie..please don’t start” you muttered, trying not to laugh while Aurélien stifled his laughter next to you.

“I’m just saying!” your grandma gave you a dramatic shrug and then turned her attention back to him. “So do you know anything about real football? Not that soccer stuff.”

“Nana!” you hissed, feeling embarrassed by your family already. “He’s literally a professional footballer.”

“Uh huh” she said unimpressed. “I don’t know nothing about that.”

Aurélien grinned, leaning into his perfect boyfriend performance with an almost too good to be true charm. “I know a little bit about NFL. Y/N taught me a few things.”

Your grandma waved him off with a scoff. “Mhm, we’ll see. Don’t let my son hear you say that or he’ll have you on the couch talking about the Saints all night.” Then she turned her attention back to you with a no nonsense look. “Y/N, you’re making the gumbo this year.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait what?”

“Gumbo. You heard me” she said, already making her way out the kitchen. “You’re always in the kitchen when I make it. Show your boyfriend you know how to cook so he doesn’t go back home thinking we raised you wrong.”

“Nana I’ve never–”

“Better figure it out!” she snapped over her shoulder, dismissing you with a wave. “The stock is on the stove and everything else is over yonder (nearby) in the ice box (fridge). Don’t mess my kitchen up.”

Aurélien looked down at you, amused by your predicament. “You didn’t tell me you were the chef tonight.”

“That’s because I didn’t know” you muttered while the panic set in. You knew your entire family would clown you for years to come if you fucked your grandmother’s gumbo recipe up. They were still talking about the mac and cheese you messed up three years ago by adding cottage cheese, so you couldn’t take any chances this year.

“Okay..” you sighed and tied your braids into a bun as you made your way over to the sink to wash your hands. Before you could even start getting anything accomplished, one of your little cousins, Myles, came yelling and running through the kitchen out of nowhere.

“Y/N! My mom said your boyfriend has money for Robux. Can he buy me some? Pleaseeee?”

“No!” you snapped, holding up a wooden spoon. “And why are you running in here? You know you’re not supposed to be in the kitchen playing!”

“We’re just playing hide and seek,” Myles said while full of sugared adrenaline. “But I’m not hiding in here..I just wanted to see if I could get some robux.”

“Robux your ass out of this kitchen please” you commanded while wrangling him and the rest of your cousins out of the kitchen.

Aurélien cocked his brow, watching you as you ushered your cousins out of the kitchen area.

“Baby.. I can buy them some robux, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“No. He’s always begging for something” you muttered, shoving flour and oil onto the counter.

“Y/N!” your other cousin, Gianna, yelled from the hallway. “Can you fix my hair? My mama bumped the ends and I don’t like it.”

“Girl, I just got here! Ask Nana!”

“She said no,” Gianna pouted, slowly dragging her feet toward the living room.

Your mom appeared from another room with her hands full of empty tin pans, scowling. “Why are y’all yelling in my house like this?” Her eyes landed on Aurélien and she softened immediately. “Hi Aurél. You hungry?”

Aurélien flashed the same smile he used on your grandma, but it worked a lot better on your mom. “No ma’am but thank you. It’s good to see you again.”

“Is my daughter treating you right?” your mom asked with a smile on her face while setting the pans down beside some plates. “I know she can be a little feisty…”

“Wooow…” you rolled your eyes, not believing your ears.

“Is she treating me right?” Aurélien repeated with a laugh, glancing at you as he leaned against the counter. “I have no complaints. She’s perfect for me.”

Your mom raised an eyebrow, amused by his smoothness. “You like that? I guess there’s someone out there for everybody…”

“Mom!” you yelled, reaching for the knob on the stove with an exaggerated huff. “Can y’all chill on me?”

Your mom laughed as she walked toward the living room with the others. “Alright, I’m gone. Don’t mess up the gumbo.”

“Don’t burn the roux Y/N!” Myles shouted from wherever he was hiding.

Aurélien snickered, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Yeah. Don’t burn the roux baby.”

You gave him a glare, pointing the wooden spoon toward him. “I don’t need your commentary. You’re here to chop vegetables and shut up. Got it?”

“Got it” he raised his hands up dramatically, but was still grinning like he was about to get on your every last nerve.

You turned back to the counter, yanking the fridge open to pull out the holy trinity. Just as you set the onion, celery, and bell pepper on the cutting board, your Aunt Beverly waltzed in with a glass of something that probably had way too much Crown Royal in it.

“Now why do you have this young man standing here looking like a guest?” she asked, plopping her glass down on the counter. “Aurélien you better start chopping! This ain’t Madrid.”

“I was just waiting for my instructions,” Aurélien replied, grabbing a knife. “I’m ready to work auntie.”

“Aww look at him” she cooed, giving you a look. “You better not mess this one up Y/N. He’s fine and he listens. That’s rare.”

You groaned, already regretting bringing him with you for Christmas. “Why is everyone acting like he’s the only man on earth?”

“Nobody said he was,” Aunt Beverly replied, sipping her drink. “But he’s the finest one I’ve seen you bring around.”

Aurélien didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Thank you auntie.”

“Don’t thank her” you scoffed, shoving the cutting board closer to him. “Just chop.”

Before you could get into a good rhythm of chopping and stirring, Gianna came storming back in the kitchen, looking even more dramatic than before.

“Y/N!” she whined. “Pleaseeee fix my hair. Look at me!”

You glanced over at her, narrowing your eyes over the bumped ends while you tried not to laugh. “Gigi, you don’t need your hair fixed. It looks fine.” You were lying, she really looked like she worked in management at a call center.

“No it doesn’t!” she cried, stomping her foot. “I look like James Brown!”

You almost burst out laughing so you turned your head back to the stove, tucking your lips in to hide your smile while waving her off. “Just go sit down somewhere.”

“Fine” she huffed, stomping back toward the living room. “I’m telling Nana you’re being mean.”

“Tell her! I don’t care!” you yelled back, very unbothered.

Aurélien was at the counter chopping celery while all of this went down, but you saw him chuckling quietly to himself during the ordeal like this was the most entertaining family he had ever seen. “Do you talk to all of them like that? Is that normal?”

“Only when they act like this…” you muttered, dumping a pile of chopped onions into a bowl. “Which is every time I come home.”

“Your family is funny..I like them.”

“Just chop” you repeated while shaking your head. You were anxious your family would have scared him off by now, but knowing he was enjoying every second gave you butterflies.

While chopping, the sound of the NFL game blaring loudly in the background was interrupted by your uncle shouting, “Y/N! You know what you doing in there? It smells like something’s burning.”

You hadn’t even started cooking yet, and somehow your uncle was smelling phantom scents. You rolled your eyes again, ignoring his comments while you poured oil in the pan. A slow grin crept up Aurélien’s face when he saw how annoyed you were getting. “Burning the gumbo already?”

You whipped your head around, pointing the spoon at him. “Don’t start with me.”

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention back toward the pan and swirled the oil around under the heat as you slowly added in flour. The roux was a life or death situation; you were either going to be a Creole princess, or your family would be on your neck for the rest of the night.

Aurélien stood close to you, leaning in with curiosity in his eyes. “So how do we do this? What’s the plan?”

“The plan is to stir this until its the color of dark chocolate” you said while moving the spoon in a steady circular pattern. “If I stop stirring it’ll burn and get all clumpy. After that, we add the veggies we just chopped to let it sauté, and then we add everything else and let it simmer.”

He nodded, leaning against the counter to watch you. “That’s simple enough.”

“It’s really not” you replied with your eyes locked on the pan. “And you’re distracting me already, so stop.”

“Baby I’m just standing here.” he smirked. “You’re that easily distracted?”

“No.” you shot back, side eyeing him for a split second. You were that easily distracted when he was around, but you weren’t about to admit to it.

“Are you sure?” He dropped his tone, teasing you. “Why are you gripping the spoon so tight?”

“Because I need to keep stirring..” you muttered while refusing to look at him.

“Hmm.” He paused, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I know something else that grips like that. And it tastes good too.”

You froze for a second and then snapped your head toward him with your eyes wide. “Aurélien!”

“What?” he asked innocently, but his smirk was far from innocent. “I’m just being honest.”

“Stop” you voiced in a tight tone.

“Stop what?” he asked, sliding his hand to your hip.

“That.” you hissed, smacking his hand away with your free one. “I’m not fucking the roux up because you wanna play around.”

“I think you like it though..”

You were going to fire back but then your dad’s voice cut through the kitchen. “What’s it looking like in here?” Both of you stiffened when your dad walked in the kitchen with a drink in hand, eyeing both of you.

Aurélien straightened up and moved his hands back to his sides like he’d been caught. “It’s going well sir. She’s doing a good job.”

“Hmm” you dad walked up to the stove with his brows knitted in nothing but judgement while he stared at the roux. “Still looks too light to me.”

“It’s not ready yet!” you answered back defensively, tired of everyone getting onto you about the roux.

Your dad took a sip of his drink and shook his head. “I don’t know if I want to eat what you’re cooking…”

“Then don’t” you said under your breath so he wouldn’t hear you. Eventually, he wandered back toward another room. As soon as he was out of earshot, Aurélien leaned on the counter, smirking.

“You look good in that dress, baby.”

“Aurélien....”

“What?” he teased, dropping his voice. “I can’t compliment my girlfriend?”

You huffed a breath and continued stirring the roux as it turned from a caramel color to a rich dark chocolate shade. “Not now.”

He stood behind you, towering over you as he brushed his lips up against your ear. “Later then?”

“Maybe…” you kept stirring with a vengeance, trying not to reveal how flustered he had you.

When the roux finally finished, you let out a small sigh of relief. You had one hurdle down, but the gumbo was nowhere near being finished. You pushed the spoon against the sides of the pan to check the consistency to make sure it was smooth and velvety instead of clumpy.

Aurélien hovered over you, smiling like he was the one doing all the work this whole time. “You said it’s supposed to look like dark chocolate, right? Looks like it’s done.”

“Mmhmm.” You grabbed holy trinity mixture and tossed it into the pan with a satisfying sizzle and the aroma hit immediately.

He leaned in closer. “Smells good already.”

“It’s not even half done yet.” you said, pushing him back with your hip as you reached for the seasonings. You added cajun seasonings, thyme, and bay leaves into the pot. You reached for garlic powder, but Aurélien grabbed it first and held it out of your reach with another smirk on his face.

“Really?” you asked, giving him a look.

“I’m trying to help” he replied while sprinkling garlic powder in the pot like he was a pro chef before handing it back.

You rolled your eyes, dumping the rest of the ingredients into the pot while stirring. Aurélien watched you like he was mesmerized.

“Baby you look so good right now.”

“I’m literally sweating and I probably smell like filé powder so why are you lying?” you tried to keep your tone light but the look in his eye had you ready to bend over the countertop.

“I’m not. You look good.” He stepped closer to you and brushed his hand on the lower curve of your back. He tilted his head and traced small patterns against your dress. “And you keep bending over that pot like you want something else…”

“Aurélien.” you warned again, but it sounded more like a whine because his hand slid up to your hip at the same time.

“You’re doing such a good job baby.” he coaxed while gripping your hip to pull you up against him. If he wanted to play, you could too – so you lightly grinded up against him while the gumbo simmered on the stove.

You could feel his breath hitch against your neck as he kissed you there, lightly nibbling on the skin. “Keep doing that.”

You pressed against him even more while his hands roamed over your dress. Just as you were about to push him off of you, the sound of your aunts’ voice drifted into the kitchen from the dining room. They were in a very loud and animated gossip session, so naturally both you and Aurélien froze in place to start eavesdropping.

“Girl have you seen Linda lately?” Your Aunt Kim’s voice cut through the kitchen.

“Who ain’t seen her?” Aunt Beverly shot back. “She’s all over town riding around in every man’s car but her husband’s. Makes no damn sense.”

“Chileeee…” Aunt Kim said with a dramatic drawl. “She has the nerve to be in church every sunday talking about the lord is her shepherd while she’s creeping with half the deacons.”

“Half?!” Aunt Bev cackled so loud it made Aurélien’s eyebrows shoot up. “Girl she’s hitting the men’s choir and the ushers too. And then she has the nerve to come in there with her wig sitting like a top hat. Baby, secure that wig first, then worry about your next man.”

“Not a top hat!” Aunt Kim howled. “She looks like she’s leading a marching band!”

“Mhm. I might tell you a joke but I’ll never tell you a lie” Aunt Bev continued cackling.

Your hand shot up over your mouth to keep from laughing as Aurélien leaned closer to you, confused. “What are they saying?” he whispered.

You leaned back into him, trying to explain without bursting into laughter. “They’re talking about the pastor’s wife. Apparently she’s been messing around with men who aren’t her husband. And her wig game is real bad.”

Aurélien’s face twisted with disbelief. “So she’s cheating and her wig is crooked? That’s crazy.”

You nodded with tears threatening to spill from how hard you were trying to hold back your laughter. “I swear nobody is safe in this family. They come for everybody.”

“She’s gonna end up in somebody’s sermon if she keeps it up” Aunt Kim said, taking a sip of her drink. “And I’m not saying a damn thing when it happens.”

“Nothing?” Aunt Bev smacked her lips. “Please. You’ll be the first one to say something. You haven’t been quiet a day in your life.”

Both women burst into a fit of laughter and you finally shoved Aurélien off so you could work on plating the gumbo over a bed of white rice. When you were finally done, you called everyone into the dining room. The table was already overloaded with food, but the gumbo was the star of the show. You set the bowls down in front of everyone, ready to hear everyone’s reactions.

“Alright” your grandma said as she sat at the head of the table. “Let’s see if my grandbaby did my gumbo any justice.”

Everyone started digging in and you heard the occasional “Mmm!” of approval from mostly everyone. You noticed your dad had his bowl of gumbo off to the side and he reached for some oxtail instead.

“You’re not gonna try it?” you asked.

He shrugged, unphased. “I don’t eat gumbo unless your Nana makes it. Especially if it has seafood in it. You know that.”

“Wow.” You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “You’re really going to do your daughter like that?”

Your dad glanced up at you with a smirk. “The last time you made a main dish for Christmas, you put cottage cheese in the mac and cheese. I don’t trust it.”

The whole table erupted in laughter, including Aurélien as he tried to cover his mouth. A look of defeat appeared on your face and you slumped in your chair. “I saw it on tiktok.”

“Tiktok doesn’t belong in the kitchen on Christmas day. Do that on your own time.” your grandma shook her head, cracking a crab leg to retrieve the meat inside.

When Aurélien dipped his spoon into the gumbo to take his first bite, his eyes widened. “Mmm” he hummed low and deep in his chest, dragging out the sound as his tongue darted to catch a stray bit of broth on his bottom lip. You froze mid bite, hovering your spoon over your bowl as he let out another groan of appreciation.

“This is so good,” he murmured in a smooth voice. His eyes were locked on yours the entire time, and the corner of his mouth curved into a smirk. “Baby you really did this.”

“It’s just gumbo” you tried to keep your voice even, feeling heat creeping up your skin.

“No,” he said, dipping his spoon back in for another bite. His gaze stayed on you as he savoured it, swiping his tongue across his lips in a teasing way. “This is perfect. I see why you were gripping that spoon now.”

You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together while your family was oblivious to the way your boyfriend was dismantling every bit of composure in you.

“Aurélien” you hissed low enough so no one else could hear. “You need to chill.”

“I’m just enjoying your cooking baby” he said, leaning in closer and dropping his voice just for you. “And thinking about what else you’re good at.”

Your spoon clattered on the bowl and you reached for your glass of water, downing it like you were dying of thirst. Aurélien’s hand slipped under the table, brushing against your bare thigh. “You okay?” he asked while continuing to rub your thigh in gentle strokes.

You glared at him, feeling the pool of heat in your core increase from his touch. “No. I’m really not.”

Aurélien didn’t stop his torturous strokes on your thigh as his fingers slipped a little higher. It was taking everything in you to control yourself and push his hand away, but you really wanted to grab it and pull it closer. Your family was still as loud as ever, conversing around the table and had no idea what was happening. Your uncles were arguing about the NFL game with one of your aunts, your grandma was fussing with Myles about trying to sneak a piece of cake before finishing all of his food, and your mom was going on about how she needed better lights next year in order to win the HOA decor competition.

Literally nobody was paying attention to you, and Aurélien took it to his advantage. He brushed his lips against your ear and whispered, “You’re tense baby. Maybe I should help you relax in a bit.”

“Let’s go.” you said under your breath, unable to take it anymore.

“Now?”

You shot him a look. “Now.”

Aurélien didn’t need to be told twice and stood up first, excusing himself from the table with an exaggerated excuse about how he needed to stretch his legs so his muscles wouldn’t get too stiff during the holiday break. It was bullshit, but either way nobody cared. You followed a few seconds later, pretending you needed to refill your glass of water.

When you met him in the hallway, his hand immediately hiked your dress up, gripping your hips from underneath while his lips met yours in a messy kiss. His tongue slid against yours as you arched your body into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Your room?” he whispered against your lips, already leading you down the hall. You nodded but you could barely think straight when his lips started trailing down your neck. When you reached the door of your bedroom, you pushed it open quickly, expecting an empty bed but you froze in place when you saw someone’s random baby was asleep.

“Who.. whose baby is that?” Aurélien asked in a hushed tone, baffled.

“I don’t even know” you whispered back, shutting the door as quietly as possible before you started laughing.

You wasted no time grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the bathroom. Once you were inside, you locked the door and leaned back against it with a seductive smirk on your face. “We have about five minutes before someone starts looking for us.”

“Then we better not waste it” he said, sliding your dress back up around your hips. You palmed his dick over his jeans, stroking it against the fabric to make him hard while his hand found their way between your thighs. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped from you when his fingers started teasing you through your panties. His lips moved from your jaw, then to your neck and you tilted back against the door to give him more access.

“Auréliennn” you whispered in a voice shaky as you dug your nails into his arm.

“You need to be quiet for me baby” His voice was low and filled with lust. “Shhhh.”

You nodded, but his fingers slipped under your panties and met with your wetness, causing you to let out a soft, desperate moan. He smirked against your neck, teasing your skin with the warmth of his voice.

“I said be quiet for me.”

You bit your lip to hold back but he wasn’t making it easy for you at all. He had two fingers inside of you while his thumb rubbed your clit, teasing you until your legs started to shake.

“Please” you whispered, still clutching his arm while you struggled to keep it together quietly.

He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes with a smug expression on his face. “Please what?”

“Please” you repeated, voice trembling with want. “Just hurry.” You gripped the belt loop of his jeans with your hand, quickly unzipping his jeans so you could speed the process up. You really didn’t have much time and you were not about to risk not having the orgasm that was pent up and wavering, ready for release.

Aurélien leaned into your ear, arrogantly whispering in your ear. “You were clenching that spoon like you needed something else to hold onto. I’m about to give you something better.”

“Shut up” you muttered, already struggling to keep composure.

“You don’t want me to shut up” he whispered, brushing his lips against your neck as he spoke. “You love this too much. Tell me how good I feel.”

You gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. “You feel so good,” you whimpered. “But we don’t have time.”

“I don’t care” he cut you off, thrusting his fingers inside you with calculation. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he filled you with his fingers, curving just right in a certain spot that made your legs week. “Take it, baby. Good girl.”

You bit your lip to keep quiet but he was driving you wild. His thumb pressed against your clit, swirling with just the right amount of pressure to make your breath quicken into rapid gasps.

“Aurélien I can’t” you hissed quietly.

“You will” he growled, pulling his fingers out and flipping you around so the front of your body was pressed against the door. His hand smacked your ass and you gasped, feeling the sting disperse from pain to pleasure. “Don’t cum until I say so.”

“Okay” you breathed with your cheek pressed against the door as he yanked your panties down. You heard him pull his jeans down and the anticipation made you shake a little. Aurélien lined his dick up against you, pushing inside you in one deep stroke. You clenched around him the minute he was inside and a mewl escaped your throat.

“Damn. You’re squeezing me already? You don’t even want me to move yet?”

“Move.” you pleaded in a barely steady voice. “Please move.”

“In a rush?” He smirked against your shoulder, pulling out slowly before deep stroking back in. The door rattled under his force and he grabbed your hip to steady you. “You want it like that?”

“It’s too loud” you whined, still trying to catch your breath.

“You’re too loud” he shot back, gripping your neck to tilt your head back. His lips brushed up against your ear as he whispered in your ear. “Be quiet or you won’t get to cum tonight.”

The pressure in your core was building fast and he hadn’t even fucked you like he meant it just yet. You bit your lip hard, trying to quiet your moans. His thrusts were deep, hard and merciless with each one hitting deeper than the last. When he reached around to rub your clit again, your legs started shaking.

“I wanna cum” you whimpered in a broken voice. “Aurélien I can’t hold it.”

“Yes you can” he commanded with his grip tightening on your hip as he stilled his movements to an infuriating pace. “You’re my good girl, right? Hold it for me.”

Your whole body was shaking from the intensity of it, you could feel the coil threatening to spring free with every second. “I can’t,” you whispered with tears in your eyes. “Please let me–”

Your orgasm hit you before you could warn him again or finish your sentence. Your body spasmed and a rush of wetness made a mess on your thighs and his. He froze and looked down before letting out a filthy groan. “Aah, fuck” he hissed, smacking your ass again which made you cry out. “Look at you making a mess all over me. Didn’t I tell you not to cum?”

“I’m sorry” you gasped, still trembling from the aftershocks. He didn’t stop and gripped your hips tighter, thrusting into you harder to drag you to another wave of pleasure that had you reaching behind to try and warn him again.

“You like that? You like being punished for not listening??” His voice was raw as he fucked you into a dickmatized state. “I want you to cum again but you gotta wait for me baby.”

At this point your legs were nearly giving out and your body was barely holding it together as he pushed you closer to another orgasm. His hand slipped around your throat, squeezing lightly. “Tell me you want me to fill you up.”

“Fill me up,” you begged, barely audible. “I want it.”

He thrust into you erratically, burying himself deep inside you as he came while trying to keep his groans quiet. You felt the warmth of his cum and the sensation sent you spiralling into another orgasm even more intense than the last. Your whole body shook as you clung to the doorknob next to you, gasping. When he finally pulled out, you were both a sweaty, breathless, wrecked mess. Your legs were still shaking and some of your braids had fallen out of the bun you tied earlier. Aurélien smirked, brushing a stray braid out of your face and leaned in to kiss you softly.

“I love you” he smiled, looking at you in a teasing way.

“Um..are you sure??? I can’t believe you just fucked me like that…” You were still trying to catch your breath and get rid of the ringing in your ear after all that. You wiped a stray tear from your eye as you freshened up the best way you could. Aurélien’s quickie had you exhausted and ready for a nap after just one tiny round. When you exited the bathroom, you tried to keep it together, but you couldn’t even walk properly.

You stepped out of the bathroom first, trying to act as normal as possible while adjusting your dress. Aurélien followed behind you, looking way more put together than you did. Judging by his smirk, he knew exactly the type of predicament he put you in. The moment you walked back into the living room, all conversation stopped and several pairs of eyes locked on you. You barely made it to the couch before your family started pouncing on you like you were prime entertainment. Aunt Bev tilted her head and squinted at you like you owed her an explanation.

“Y/N, why are you walking like that? What’s wrong with you?”

You tried to wave her off as you sank into the couch, crossing your legs like that would make you any less of a target. “I’m fine auntie. Just tired.”

“Tired?” Your grandma’s voice cut through the room. She peered at you over the rim of her glasses, full of suspicion. “You sick or something? You look sweaty.”

“I’m not sweaty!” you shot back, running a hand over your face out of instinct.

“Uh, yes you are” Gianna piped up from across the room with her bumped ends still unbumped. “Why are you shiny like that? You was in there doing push ups?”

“Gigi!” you snapped in a cracked voice as Aurélien strolled past you to grab another bowl of gumbo. Myles came skipping over, still fueled with sugar. He stopped right in front of you and scrunched his face up in confusion. “Why your hair look like that? You look a mess.”

Your hand flew to your head, gripping the loose braids that fell from the bun you thought you tied carefully. “Myles, mind your business!” you yelled, trying to tuck the braids back in while your family cackled.

“I told y’all she was sick” your grandma said while shaking her head as if you had offended her. “Sweating. Hair messed up. Tired. She’s acting like she just ran a marathon and she hasn’t done anything."

“Could’ve climbed a big, tall mountain” Aunt Bev added in with a knowing smirk while sipping her drink.

“Or fell out of a tree” Gianna chimed in, snickering like she was hilarious when it really wasn’t all that funny to you.

“Or got hit by a truck” Myles added with dramatics, which earned a loud laugh from your Aunt Kim.

“Leave her alone” she said, waving her fork at the group before she turned to you. “Seriously though, what were you doing back there? You’re sweating like a whore in church.”

You couldn’t even formulate a proper defense before someone else chimed in, but this time it was your dad who was sitting comfortably in his recliner. “She probably fucked the gumbo up just like I said. I ain’t even touch it. I wasn’t in the mood for one of her little experiments today.”

Your jaw dropped as the entire room started laughing at you. Aurélien was silently enjoying every second of it and finally decided to save you, or so he thought. He leaned against the wall while eating his second helping of gumbo.

“Her gumbo is the best I ever had.”

Aunt Bev raised a brow, slyly smiling as she looked between you and Aurélien. “Mmhmm” she hummed, dragging it out while leaning back in her chair.

“I bet it is.”

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