#because these last few weeks has been too much

[ncteez]

M.I.L.F. (Make It Last Forever) ― L.DH

Haechan, a favorite among classy wives to hire during the hot summer season for a nice, thorough pool cleaning, seems to have a favorite wife of his own.  You.  Or the one where Haechan was the pain-in-your-ass son of the family you used to babysit for, but now he’s making it his mission to be the pain-in-your-ass pretend husband that you never asked for, but very clearly need. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― lee haechan  x afab milf!reader  

WORDCOUNT― 18.9k

CONTENT―  age gap: reader is 31  and haechan is 24, milf trope/single mother reader, college pool boy haechan (turned part time babysitter), reader has 1 kid and haechan really wants to give her another, reader has morals!! haechan just doesn’t see it as a moral issue, he is actually very sweet 

!WARNINGS! ―  age gap, haechan is somewhat of a manipulator, he’s gentle but won’t take no for an answer. dub-con in one instance. major breeding kink and kind of a mommy and daddy kink (domesticity), angst regarding reader and her ex husband, reader has huge tits 

NOTE ― this was written for jay from enhypen over on my other blog, but i am gifting it to you guys here as well! I WROTE THEM BOTH!!!! NOT PROOF READ.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― thick big dick haechan, small instant dubious consent, tit obsessed haechan, groping and grinding, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum stuffing-ish,pussy eating, fingering, basically it’s haechan doing stuff to you,  this ain’t smut this is making love, also reader doesn’t shave her coochie and haechan fucking loves it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Having a stray eye isn’t typically something you afford yourself when it comes to men. Things tend to change with time though, that much you know is true. 

It was proven to you for the first time when your ex husband decided to up and leave you three weeks before your due date for a woman–well, girl, fresh out of highschool. Years of trust and promises crushed with just a single sentence and a slam of the door. Time must’ve changed you for him to leave so heartlessly. Time must’ve changed him to become so cold. 

 It was proven again when you were able to heal despite never believing you could. Seconds of pain turned to minutes, to hours. Days. weeks. Months. Years of pain before being able to wake up and feel somewhat numb to it all. Like a flip switch in your head that told you that you can be happy now even if as a single mother. After all, the hard part was over. 

It took some four to five years, but it did happen. Time did change you, it healed you, it matured you. As your child grew, so did you. And for the better, you think. You count your blessings of living a life far more lavish than you ever could have anticipated given the circumstances that had been thrown at you. Even to the point of nesting, wanting another child, wanting a big and happy family. But alas, your ex husband had better things to do. 

At the end of the day, you’d never be able to call this home yours if you had stayed with your ex husband. He didn’t like this kind of “flashy” lifestyle, and to him, everything you wanted seemed too flashy for him. Perhaps he was right to some extent, as you recognize the brand name goods you now own, solely because you had promised yourself in the depths of your despair that you’ll get to a point in life where you can buy yourself everything you not only need, but want. So, here you are, owning an expensive home, in a nice neighborhood, with a nice car and a nice pool. 

Your daughter has everything she could want and need too, aside from a sibling, it’s certainly still more than what you had growing up and it’s all because of you. A fully decorated bedroom drenched in glitter, purples, creams, yellows, and pink, her favorite color. All sorts of play houses, costumes, dolls, a few lego sets, and even some plastic swords and knives for the days she wants to pretend to be her favorite movie characters. Clothes she can grow into, and a nice little fund building up for her as she grows up. Her first car, college, help for a downpayment on her own first house. 

Both of you have everything you could ever want or need and for that, you’re so proud. Especially knowing your husband would have never believed you could make it this far without him. Still, despite having everything you could ever ask for, there’s something in you that feels empty.

Time changes things. 

Time changes a lot of things, you note more than usual, as the man you’ve been ogling for the past three weeks makes himself far more known to you than you ever wished he would.

The interaction with him was always so quick before today and given the fact that he was a complete stranger, you never quite invited him into your home considering–you know, small child and all. You had hired him over text. Haechan, your neighbor said his name was. His handsome features didn’t offer you anything more than a clean pool and a wandering eye. 

Your neighbor apparently has a friend who has a cousin that has an even nicer pool than you do. Given, it’s only a nicer pool due to the fact that this young man, Haechan, tended to it weekly and made damn sure it could be drunk out of if a person had a craving for chlorine. 

You feel like an idiot now that it didn’t dawn on you quick enough. Sure, he looked a bit familiar to you but who doesn’t when you’re always out and about seeing so many different faces on a daily basis? His name, Haechan, didn’t ring any bells. Now though, the shame of staring at his sweaty pecs and biceps came crashing down the moment you realized who Haechan actually is. 

He didn’t do a damn thing to remind you either, if anything, all he did was walk around all sweaty in the afternoon heat with his tank top either sticking to him, or off entirely. It appears that you had just been too busy running errands with your child, considering his shifts were always when you were home. Too busy cooking, cleaning, reading, lounging. Too busy looking at…well, not his face. 

Too busy to give the man a glance more than that of a slice of pie behind a bakery window. 

Haechan. 

Since fucking when was that his name?

“Lee Donghyuck.” You whimper near mortified, three weeks too late as you hand him his pay with nervous hands. “Spray-cheese in my hair Donghyuck?” 

“Ah, was wondering when you’d pick up on that.” He smiles at you with that crooked grin, a knowing look that any man at a bar would give you if he had caught you checking him out. Then, he pockets the hefty amount of cash that you hand to him. “I go by Haechan more often these days.” He trails off, an amused smirk half-falling as he looks at your expression of realization. “You can call me whatever you want though.”

He’s well aware of how often you’ve checked him out since he started intentionally taking his clothes off. After all, it’s mid-july by this point and the sun baring down on him doesn’t quite call for a fucking turtle neck sweater. Or a T-shirt, or a tank top, for that matter. It calls for all skin baby, beautifully tanned and toned for you and any of your neighbors to look at if they so wanted to. 

Haechan doesn’t work out for nothing, after all. Summer after summer, he’s found himself to be quite fond of the rich women that hire him for their pool services. Always wanting an attractive young man to wander around half naked and satiate their lack of sex life with their husbands, or boytoys, or what have you. He knows all that extra pay isn’t because he does a good job either. He’s gotten winks, small comments, even a few offers of his body for more pay.

He’s turned them all down, of course. For a full-on affair, anyway. Haechan has gotten a few blow jobs and quickies as a tip before though, and a lot of that is why he keeps getting referred to more women. Richer women. Never single women. 

Until you. 

He quite enjoyed catching you looking at him. Especially given the fact that he knew exactly who you were when you introduced yourself to him via text. That little childhood crush on you came back within an instant upon actually seeing you again. Truly, he had forgotten all about you up until that fateful day three weeks ago. 

If he’s being honest, he’s been pining something fierce since he first stepped foot on your property. Excitement swelled inside of him just to see you again. To see if you’re still hot, to see how you’re doing, what you’re doing. How your life is going.

 He knew you didn’t recognize his nickname through text, and he definitely knew you didn’t recognize him to be eating him up with those eyes of yours either. So, he played along, enjoying it while he could before it would inevitably dawn on you. Still, he remembers you so well from back then. Crazy to know that he rarely thought of you for the past twelve years or so, and how all those little butterflies of his came back in a far more mature way. He was only twelve back then, but he’s a man now. 

Twenty four and perfectly sound as a man who knows what he likes. The fact that you happen to fall into that category is no fault of his own, honestly. It’s your fault if anyone’s at all. Haechan is a man that likes a specific type of woman too. Woman. Not a girl, not a young lady, not a free spirit, nor a prude. He is drawn to the idea of experience, to the idea of settling down. It’s not easy to find that at his age, in college, surrounded by party girls and casual drug use. 

And, well, imagine his smile upon seeing your lovely, lavish home with the large pool, no ring on your finger, a whole fucking child, and your motherly instincts when you buckle her into the car for an errand. Oh and the broken fence in the far back of your yard.

You’re a single mom. 

A hot single mom who lives lavishly. One who could probably use a man’s help around your house.

He half expected you to be able to recognize him when he appeared for work the first time. He even had a monologue in his head on what to say to you, and how to present himself. You didn’t seem to take notice though, introducing yourself to him as if you hadn’t spent all that time in his childhood home when you were a teenager. Like you never mothered him, or put him to sleep with the soft stories when you let him watch all those scary movies before bed. Even at twelve, he was a scaredy cat.

 Clearly you’re too busy experiencing life to notice the way he fawns over you too. Hating how you’re more reserved than the other lavish, fixed-up women. You seem to have standards, or maybe it’s just priorities ... that's so hot. Truly, it only makes him want you more because by now, the other women would already be rubbing all over him. The ones who shouldn’t be wanting him the way they do. So, yes, he’s always stealing glances at you with sparkling dark eyes, fantasizing in his head that this pool is his to clean now, because that’s what a good man would do for you, right? With him around servicing your pool and lawn, you’d never need to hire or spend money on another broke ass college student again.

Yes. That’s how quickly he fell into this infatuation solely because you looked at him like you want it without realizing who he was. Hell, without realizing how perfect you are in terms of what he wants.

God, how are you still single? 

Like, why do you have a child and a house so beautiful without a man wandering around doing all of this work for you? Not that you couldn’t do it on your own, it’s just, you clearly have the means to make a man do as you please. Why haven’t you?

You happen to fall almost perfectly into the categories of what he’s looking for. Save for the fact that now you recognize him as that kid you used to babysit rather than the man who tries to be sexy while cleaning your pool. Which is a fucking shame, if he’s being honest, to be written off as that same ten year old child rather than a fucking man who very clearly has needs and desires. 

The point is– Haechan wants you and he parades around your pool for you to look at him. So what if you used to babysit him? It’s not like you’re an old swamp-hag trying to lure him with candy. You’re just…a woman. And he’s just a man. 

“Well, thank you for cleaning again,” You trail off in an awkward tone, shifting your eyes to anywhere but him. He watches you though, smiling a smile you know all too well from his childhood antics. It must mean something different now, or maybe not. “I guess I’ll see you next week?” 

“Well, actually,” Haechan offers, “Would you be opposed to–” You cut him off instantly with an awkward wave of your hand.

You don’t know why you make assumptions, maybe from that damned smile on his face, but you do recall your ex husband reminding you time and time again that it’s one of the things he hated about you. 

Assumptions. Always thinking the worst, or perhaps the most filthy of situations and expressions. To be fair, you feel guilty about how you’ve been looking at him, you can’t help but panic trying to pretend like it never happened, and that he never saw it happen.

“I’m not interested, Donghyuck.” You respond hastily, pressing your thumb to your bottom lip to bite the skin on it, keeping your eyes away from him with the awkward words. After all, he knew who you were this whole time and paraded around like that? 

Even before recognizing him yourself, you know men well enough to know when they’re trying to flaunt. Is it so wrong to assume?

“Interested in what?” Haechan tilts his head knowingly, seeing the way you buckle under the guilt of staring at the very man you used to tuck into bed every night. He can see the way you try to push those sexual thoughts you had away in the quick rejection to a simple assumption. 

 “I was just going to ask if you want me to fix your fence.” 

Ah, you did get ahead of yourself through the guilt, and you’re far too aware of it as you draw your eyes back to him and note the expression on his face. Amused, maybe a bit of concern in his eyes, even? 

“Ah, um–” You start, trailing your eyes down your fence line never once noticing a break in it. Haechan is quick to point though, leaning to you with a whisper of “right there.” And well, you did not need to hear that tone in his voice the way you just did.

God, it’s so awkward.

“Well, how much would that cost me?” You question with an empty voice, staring at the broken fence. 

“Free.” He uses the same tone, leaning away from you now and smiling wide. “That is, if you provide lunch.” 

Well, despite the awkwardness, that break over there would cost you a pretty penny to fix, and your daughter needs the safety of playing in her own yard without random animals or worse, people, making their way in. Plus, you’re quite fond of saving money. How else would you be here if you weren’t good at it? And now, given that you’re most definitely not interested in Haechan, what's the harm in making a few sandwiches for someone you already know well enough? It’s not like you’ve never made him lunch before.

The awkwardness will pass and your guilt will subside. You both will laugh at it over a cold glass of iced lemonade, surely. It’s not like you realized who he was anyway, it’s not like you’re just gonna keep looking at him like that. You should just push forward and it’ll all be fine. 

“Hell, I’d even watch the kiddo so you can have a break every now and then.” He watches your reaction, wanting to ask so many questions about why you’re single, who the father is, where he is, why he isn’t here. “After all, I learned quite a bit from you.” 

For a second you consider that too.

And there’s three reasons as to why you should. The first being that you were literally just looking for a new child care facility due to learning of the staff coming to work while sick. Your poor daughter came home with a fever just last week, and you’ve had little luck in finding a place with the same educational benefits for her. 

The second being that, well, while you’re not hurting for cash or anything, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to put a little more back for her college fund. Or for fun little vacations. 

And lastly, despite your guilt of lusting over someone you shouldn’t have, you know Donghyuck and you know his family even better. No background check would be needed, your daughter could be in the comfort of her own home rather than a classroom setting that she’s sure to see for at least twenty years of her life in the future. 

So, yes. You consider it instantly, and Haechan sees it. 

You only know of the childhood version of him and, well, the slutty pool-side version of him apparently. If only you knew of that other side of him and how fond he is of watching his own younger cousins. How good he is with children, and how much he clings to the idea of being a father one day.

Haechan is great with kids, with or without them having a hot mom.

And well, he knows that he’s fond of looking at you at least. Besides, as long as you can work with his class schedules, he’d be willing to do just about anything to play pretend-husband, even if you’re unaware of it. 

“Is that so?” You finally ask, curious eyes looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Shouldn’t you be out living the life? College parties and such?” You add, wondering why such a great deal has managed to flop down on your lap. The idea of even cheaper childcare without the risk of unvaccinated children, and sick caretakers being far too good of a deal to pass up. 

“Well, yeah I guess.” He shrugs, leaning backwards to stretch and roll his shoulders. “Not really my scene though. I have classes Monday and Wednesday all day, Tuesday and Thursdays my classes are online. If you can work around that, I’d rather just be making money and chilling.” 

You think about it just for a second more when he continues. 

“I can be here on weekends too. Maybe you should be the one out relaxing and having some drinks.” 

“Well, I don’t quite need that, or for you to be here on weekends.” You think as you say it, knowing you have given up on going out to try and meet men two years ago. “I could pay you though, let’s say, thirty an hour?” 

Well, shit, that’s not too bad at all, especially considering he’s about to give up on cleaning the pools of a few women in his contacts for this. It’s a major pay cut, but still enough to get by comfortably if you’ll have him multiple times a week. That plus the pool cleaning money? And free lunch? 

“Oh, you don’t go out at all? I don’t see why not, could probably get a man in no time–” Haechan ignores the wage offer and pushes to note the singlehood he had been noticing for the past three weeks. “and the pay is fine.” 

“Ah, well, the dating pool isn’t so great in this neck of the woods.” You scratch the back of your neck when you say it. “That aside, I'll have her in day care on the days you can’t be here, but it really would be a big help. Thank you for the offer, Donghyuck. And for the fence too.” 

He watches you with a firm nod, shoving his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts, still entirely shirtless in front of you. 

“And the pool.” You add quietly after a moment. 

“I think you’d be surprised about the dating pool.” He smiles as he pushes the subject back to what you had previously said, hoping you believe those words before continuing. “So, when do you want me to start?” 

“Is tomorrow too soon? You’re okay to set up here with your online classes?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” He smiles.

“I’m sure she would be so happy knowing she won’t be going to daycare–” You clap, feeling a bit less awkward despite the boldness of the man in front of you. You’re sure he’s just teasing you for knowing you checked him out. “I know I am.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a little too perfect, actually.

After that first day of watching your child and making a lazy attempt at “fixing your fence,” he’s settled in like it’s home. He wishes it was, with the lavish lifestyle in a house far too pretty compared to his own living space with piles upon piles of laundry he’s too lazy to pick up for himself. 

It’s different for you though. Different when he’s here.

Truly, he feels like he’s living the life after a couple of weeks with decent pay and a comfy space to do his homework. He watches your child, which is arguably the hardest part of the job but she’s well behaved for him. In fact, she seems to have taken a shine to him.

He’s starting to be very intentional with taking far too long to work on your fence too, and still maintaining your pool. He’s trying to drag this out for as long as he can. Even if just to see if you still look at him when you come home the same way you did before recognizing him. You never do though. When his shirt is off and he’s wiping his forehead in the sun, you don’t look at him anymore.

Hell, he’s even considered breaking things in your home just to give himself more jobs to do. More things that make him feel needed, like a husband. More things that you thank him for fixing, even if it breaks again two days later.

And ah, the food in your fridge is always free reign to him, that large television in the living room too. God, sometimes he dreads going home, and by sometimes, he means all the time. Who in their right mind would ever fucking want to live outside of this lifestyle? He really can’t believe you’re single, nor can he believe that he has the opportunity to be in your home, close to you. It shouldn’t take too long now to convince you, right? That you don’t necessarily have to be single? That you need him around to live even more comfortably?

In short, Haechan is in his head about how he’s practically just roleplaying as your stay-at-home husband before having to go back to his shitty little apartment and remind himself that he’s just a fucking college student with no interest in the people on campus. And like, even with the way you come home from work, all groggy and exhausted on the days he’s there, you always thank him before giving him his pay. What he likes best about those nights is when you’re too exhausted to even pay him and you promise to do it next time.

In his mind, that’s you promising to see him again. 

He could give less of a shit about the pay at this point, as long as he gets to be in this house, smelling your favorite candles and dish detergents, seeing you, being a semi-father to a child who deserves more love than the two of you combined can give…he’ll fucking do anything you want for free. 

It’s difficult sometimes, like he really can’t help it. Some days wandering around this house and imagining how the two of you could have landed on buying it together. How the rooms would be organized if he were here from the start. Claiming his spot on your couch like any dad would. Playing dolls with your daughter, laughing with her, letting her paint his nails and put his hair in little pigtails. He even cleans your pool as if it were his own, meaning, he genuinely cleans it. 

He has taken it upon himself to mow your lawn, confusing the yard workers that you apparently hired years ago. Did he accidentally fire them? Maybe, but any good husband would save you money, right? He checks your mail, waves to your neighbors and lets them make assumptions. 

And every single fucking night it’s harder and harder to go back home.

Especially after a full day of playing dad then seeing you come back so tired. Turning off that switch in his head isn’t easy. He wants to greet you like the husband you don’t have. He wants to ease your hard days in so many ways. Tell you he’s proud of you, that you still look so pretty after an exhausting shift of whatever the fuck you do. He wants to serve you dinner, run you a bath, fix your hair, lay you down– oh, he’s fantasizing again. Unfortunately, he has to settle with seeing the relief on your face when he lets you know in a soft voice that he’s cooked dinner and he will heat it up for you before leaving, kiddo is in her room sleeping, no dishes in the sink, and laundry is folded and put away. 

He loves the appreciation in your eyes, and sometimes even sees a glint of sadness. He can tell you wish you had this from a person who isn’t here for pay. Someone who loves you, and loves your child, and feels joy in making your life easier. 

Fuck, if only you knew. 

And  you’d be lying if you tried to say Haechan isn’t a godsend to you on the days he babysits. Many times you find yourself wishing he’d just move in and do everything that you can’t do. You’d pay him well, give him a guest room, whatever. But it’s just…not viable to support a full time employee like that, nor is it fair to your daughter. 

She needs a parent, not a paid college student who needs some extra cash. You have to be that parent, you have to make time for her and witness all of her joys in life. You have to protect her and never bring in faces of men who claim to want to be a father, only to run and break her heart more than your own. 

For now, you settle with this godsend of a little shit you used to babysit. Still you can barely believe that’s the same person, but again…time changes things. And thankfully, the awkwardness of what you did has died down drastically.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Today, you’re more thankful for Haechan than you have been previously. After a heavy workload has been lifted off your back with the approval of this project, you need a night out. For the first time in years, you’re giving yourself a night out, all because you have someone you can trust to be here for your daughter.

He was so understanding when you called,  happy to come over right then and there to put her to bed and mostly just house-sit for the night. Even without an end time for him, and even without asking for extra pay, he just…accepted with an understanding tone and that stupid breathy chuckle he gives to you when you ask for favors. “What? You need me there right now? I’m putting on my shoes.” He had said.

It’s the fact that now, as he sits on your couch looking at you in your chosen outfit– he seems a little off. Maybe it’s because you asked him where the best spots in town are because it’s been so long since you’ve gone out, or maybe he just feels awkward seeing so much skin on your body. 

To be fair, he didn’t realize you were going out out. He thought that maybe you were gonna go stay with a friend to celebrate and have a drink or two. 

In reality though, he’s just awestruck. Already you look great even after your busy days at work but…this is a different level. The way your tits look in that push-up bra and tiny ass top, when he’s used to seeing you head out in some sort of business casual outfit without an ounce of skin showing save for your ankles or wrists…jesus. He’s struggling more than usual to keep himself calm around you, hopping up on one leg when you walk away to try and adjust the chub in his pants, and releasing a small sigh before you’re looking at him again.

His skin feels like it’s on fire knowing you’re going out looking like that.

“You sure you're okay to sleep over? I figure it’ll be easier since I’m not sure when I’ll come home, or if I come home.” You smile with a wink, your stomach in knots over the two shots you’ve taken for the first time in years. “I can call my friends and tell them not to come if you’d rather focus on your studies.” 

Haechan shakes his head, waving his hands in defense for you as if he didn’t just see the way your tits bounce and squish against your shirt with each move you make. 

“No, no! Go on, have fun.” He says, encouraging you to go out despite hoping you come home with no luck of finding a man out there. 

Just, look at you. Fuck, he’s staring again. He hates knowing that he could be one of the guys at whatever bar or club you’re landing on tonight. He could be the person that makes sure you don’t come home, getting to plant his face right there. He could be whatever you want him to be if you’re looking like that. 

But no, he has to play husband again, which is normally something he’s all too excited to do. Tonight though, he feels like a fucking cuckold. After everything he does for you, after not mentioning how you’ve skipped a few of his payments, after slaving away for hours over your pool, your household chores, fixing and breaking that fucking dishwasher, cooking you dinner every single night he’s here just to make sure you have a meal when you get off of work…you imply you may not come home tonight?

And you’re dressed like that?

And you’re…

God, you just look so good right now. It pains him to know you didn’t dress like this for him, the only man who cares enough to make your life easy. He’s not mad at you, per se, but he’s pissed that you don’t see him as an option despite showing you time and time again that not only is he an option, but the right choice. 

This is what you look like when you want to impress a man? This is how you act? How you talk? Fuck, god, fuck– maybe he’s just too deep in his one-sided roleplay but it really, really fucking feels like he’s watching his woman go off and look for someone else to fuck.

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” You smile, walking over to him with a saunter in your step and a gentle smile across your lips. 

He’s never heard you speak his name so sensually, the way his cock twitches forces him to wince away from you. He’s never even seen you saunter before. Fucking hell, somehow it feels worse seeing you act like this after how many times he’s imagined it, all alone in his room. 

A slow walk from you, with the strap of your shirt slipping off your shoulder, fat tits threatening to spill out, lifting the hem of your skirt, or dress, or whatever you’re wearing in his fantasy at that point. Your voice, so soft, so sexy. And you’re practically bringing his fantasy to life right now, except he knows you’re going to fucking walk away from him like this. Into the fucking arms of some random dude at a club. 

Probably some loser he’s seen on campus too.

“It means a lot.” You add, popping a quick, platonic kiss to the top of his forehead. 

Ah, lip gloss. That little kiss on him is enough to ignite him to the point of no return. He almost wants to skip the part of asking you not to go and straight up just beg that you pick him, that you choose him. It’s not just your home, or the luxuries that come with it. It’s you that he wants. You’re the fucking luxury and you’re just gonna go to some sticky-floored club and pretend he’s not clearly checking you the fuck out right now? Like he’s not about three seconds from dropping to his knees just to see you from the angle you deserve?! 

“It’s no problem.” Haechan relents, dropping himself onto your couch instead and adjusting his body to sink deep into the cushions just to keep himself from arguing against everything he’s giving you permission to do right now. 

Hah. Permission.

“Be safe.” He adds in an even more monotone voice. “I’ll be here when you get back.” 

And god, he seethes in his thoughts after you close that door and hop into the car with your friends. You don’t look like a mother tonight, and he wonders if you’ll be upfront and forward with anyone you intend to hit on too. Probably not. He’s well aware of the men in this city, after all, he’s one of them.

It’s really not something he can control after seeing you like that either. Your child is already in bed and he’s just sitting here on your couch with a throbbing, fucking weeping cock thinking about you. What’s stopping him from taking care of it? You’re not here, after all. 

You’re not fucking here. But everything about you is. 

And that’s how he finds himself in your bedroom for the first time, barely making it a foot into the room before closing the door and dropping to the floor. The scent in your room is different. It’s feminine, gentle, like the energy is kissing him all over and sending goosebumps straight to the head of his cock. He couldn’t even pull it out, already holding his breath with his hand down his pants, vigorously trying to get what he wants so badly yet knowing that his hand will never compare to you. 

And it’s here where he feels like a husband. Spilling against his pants with a silent, choked back sob as he stares forward at your bed, and the way you didn’t make it this morning. It’s messy, and he wants to be in that mess of sheets with you more than anything. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Haechan hates that he’s now forced to get used to your late night ventures. Every weekend now. Every. Fucking. Weekend.  You ask if he’s willing to stay over so you can go unwind, and despite his better (or worse) judgment, he accepts. The only solace he finds in these ventures is knowing you consistently come back home right after usual closing times, and you’re mostly sober. Sometimes a bit whiny that you’re not lucking out, worrying that maybe you’re too old now, or maybe you’re just not as desirable. There have even been a few times where you’ve exposed your ex husband during your rants, giving Haechan little hints to follow as to why you’re single, and how he left you. 

Still, he knows in your tipsy state that you usually wouldn’t talk about these things with him, but he’s all too happy to get the details once you come home. Mostly because it calms his rising rage at how you’re doing this to not only him, but yourself. It’s mostly because you’re technically coming home to him though. 

And every single time, you go back to your bedroom to grab his payment even though it could wait until morning, considering he’s been sleeping in the guest room– all he can think about is how he’s been in your room. He’s gotten off countless times by now by the smell of your room alone, still barely able to even reach your bed to lay in it himself for a better experience. God, he’s probably memorized each little fray in your carpeted bedroom floor by now with how much he’s zoned out on it mid-jerk off session right there on his knees at your door. 

He’s truly pathetic for you. 

This time though…three in the morning has passed and normally you’d have been stumbling through the door an hour ago. Normally, he’d be fighting back the need to tell you that you’re beautiful, not too old, and entirely desirable. Normally, he would be fisting his cock again in your guest room before sleep, getting off on the idea that he can cum in a house that you live in, smothered by the sheets you meticulously picked out to match the walls of the room. Moaning for you, practically crying for you to let him do it all. 

Have you really done it this time? Gone off with some man? Are you getting railed right now in some hotel, or car, or someone’s shitty man-cave? God, his mind is racing, both aroused at the fact that you must be horny to be constantly wanting to go out like this, but equally as devastated because like…he’s right here.

Who the fuck cares if you babysat him? He’s a man. No longer that child who sprayed cheese in your hair or dumped salt into the bag of sugar. He’s a fucking man, cooking you dinner when you work, parenting your child, cleaning your house, maintaining your pool and fence….He does everything for you, why the fuck don’t you see it?!

Click.

Haechan’s ears perk up instantly at the sound. He sits up on the couch from his depressed slump of scrolling through his phone, quickly fixing his hair and clearing his throat. 

In you stumble, right into the little entryway table with a whisper-scream of “Shit, fuck–”

Haechan looks at your state before standing to his feet and rushing to you, helping you balance on your feet despite your footing not quite being grounded even with his help. You lean on him closely, letting out an alcohol scented sigh. 

His nostrils flare as he holds his breath, feeling your tit press against his arm, smelling the drinks, the sweat, and the dulled perfume on you. Then, a hint of something else. Musk. 

You’ve been with a man. 

He holds back a gesture at the way you lean on him. Nothing more he could want at this moment but to hold you tightly and tell you that he’s got you, despite the panic in his stomach at the way he sniffs out another man. Out of lust, love, desperation, frustration. This is the closest you’ve been to him for this long. You feel clammy and cold, a clear indication that you drank far, far too much. Your tank top is sticking to you, your eyes are a bit glassy–

“You’re late.” He says shortly.

“Late?!” You raise your voice before looking at him with drowsy eyes, furrowing your brow. “I don’t have a curfe-”

“Shh–” He shushes you, helping you get to the living room. “She’s sleeping and you’re going to have her make a fuss about waking up.”

You giggle to yourself as he drops you onto the couch, now aware that yes, you are not a single college student anymore. You’re a single woman. A fucking mother. 

You should’ve just gotten a hotel for the night and slept there to dream a little longer. 

“Right.” You laugh, slouching, spreading out wide against the couch and trying to fix your gaze on him. “Why’re you still awake?” 

Haechan fixes his eyes on you, swallowing around a lump in his throat. The way you’re slouching…seemingly forgetting that you’re wearing a skirt and basically flashing your panties at him. God, the things could do to you right now. The things he could get away with if he wanted to. He tries to shake those thoughts for now, and instead, inspects you from head to toe.

He’s never seen you look so relaxed. Chest raising and falling with each breath, hair a little messy, lipstick stains smeared on the outsides of your lip line. He chooses to ignore the faint swell against your neck indicating someone has been sucking on you. But, well, he can’t ignore it. Both his cock and heart aches at the very thought.

“You’ve been kissing?” Haechan tries to ask nonchalantly. 

“A lot more than that–” You smile, feeling a flush cross your cheeks before the disappointment hits you square in the gut. 

Haechan watches your face fall, and he mimics it by falling onto the couch and sitting by your head…you know, allowing you to lay your head on him if you want to. You’d probably not notice his arousal anyway, given your state. 

“Oh?” He asks gently, the disappointment now showing plainly on not just your face, but his own.

“Thought I was gonna go home with him, turns out he decided to be done after a blowjob in the parking lot.”

Oh, the way his blood boils. Not for the fact that you were used or rejected, but for the fact that you found someone that you were interested in and genuinely intended to leave your home life in his hands for however fucking long. Really? Just gonna leave him here all alone? Like he couldn’t do better for you?

“It’s for the better–” Haechan says as he shivers with irritation, struggling to keep his facade up. It’s definitely not what you wanted to hear, and definitely not what you’d have expected to hear from a college guy at all either.

“This happened last time too, except he didn’t even get me to the parking lot.” You huff, unaware of how much you’re sharing right now. 

He bites back the anger yet again, inhaling deeply before releasing a calming breath through his nose just to contain it. So…it has happened more than once? 

“Why don’t you let me take you out someday?” He says suddenly, well aware that you’ll probably never remember he said it in the first place. 

If anything, he’s testing the waters for his own sake. He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t at least take advantage of this moment a little bit. 

“Then who will watch my daughter?” You respond in slurred speech, not even comprehending who it is that’s asking you this question right now. Not even thinking about your history with him, or the family ties. 

He, on the other hand, is quite entertained by the way you don’t bring the history up like he expected. His cock twitches at it, bumping your head just a bit, not enough for you to notice apparently. Fuck, it would be so easy for him to pull it out right now, and just…tap your lips with it. 

Maybe you’d even open your mouth for him. 

“I’ll skip class on a Wednesday, we can go while she’s still in daycare.” He continues through an almost-moan, encouraging the conversation to stay positive.

“Donghyuck–” You slur before clearing your throat and sitting back up in a dizzy show of how drunk you are. “You know I can’t do that. It’s too weird.” 

In all fairness, you know he has like…a thing for you. After all, why else would a college dude be spending his weekends here babysitting your kid? It’s not like you haven’t noticed the way he checks you out before you go out for the night. Why would he do all of this if he didn’t have some sort of attraction to you? Sure, you’re taking advantage of it as best as you can despite how you didn’t recognize him at first. 

Despite how deep down, you very well know how attracted to him you are too. 

“Only because you make it weird.” Haechan rolls his eyes as he looks at you, spreading his legs out to adjust his comfort, noting the way you glance down to his lap and see it. “I’m a grown man–” He starts, spreading his legs wider, pressing his cock against his pants to the point you can practically see the outline.”you know this.” He continues, trying to be bold now by reaching forward and moving a strand of your hair from your cheek. 

“You’ve seen it.”

You freeze, suddenly feeling entirely too sober to be talking about this kind of thing with him. With Donghyuck. God, his mother would fucking kill you if she found out he’s in your house while you’re out trying to get fucked by whoever is willing to love you temporarily. 

Haechan sees you thinking though, and continues to take the advantage now that he’s feeling brave. Now that you’ve seen the twitch in his pants and haven’t moved off the couch, or told him to go home. 

“I saw you watching me when I was cleaning your pool, multiple times.” He whispers snidely. “You stopped when you realized who I am. Why?”

“Donghyu–…” You trail off. “You know this isn’t okay. What would people think of me? There are rules, and I will not go down this route with you.”

A rush of air hits your face and suddenly, warmth hits your cheek. You feel him so close, closer than ever before. It’s dizzying. Haechan is over you, hovering with one hand ghosting over your hip. 

“You want to though, don’t you?” He gets even closer now, darting his eyes down at your chest and unable to pull them away. “Knowing how good I am with your daughter? How well I clean up? How strong I can be–”

You swallow hard. For a moment, you almost lean into him. You almost melt right then and there, the need for intimacy so heavy inside of you after being left high and dry, knowing that you’d accept it from just about anyone at this point. But– this is Donghyuck. You can’t. 

You really, really, can’t. 

The look of disappointment in his eyes kind of hurts when you’re pushing him away. That playful smirk falling faster than you think your sanity did the day your ex husband left you. 

“This–” You pause, realizing all too well how he’s used your drunken state against you for this conversation. “This is your last paycheck.”

“I don’t think so.” The smirk is back now, except…it’s different. “You know I promised her a Barbie dream house next weekend.” He smiles fully now. “She’s a bit attached, you know, even called me dad by accident the other day.” 

You’re shocked. 

“She…what?”

“You know she’s attached to me already, don’t be selfish.” Haechan shrugs at you while rolling his eyes, leaning against the couch again and turning his head to look at you. You try to pretend that you don’t see his hand slightly groping himself. “Guess she misses having a father around. Can’t be too easy for her, especially with her mom going out every weekend trying to fuck guys who would run the second they learn about her.” He ticks his tongue now, as if he’s pitying you more than your daughter. 

“Donghyuck, that’s not–”

“That’s not, what?”

“That’s not what I’m doing…” You lower your voice to a near whisper, upset that you couldn’t even enjoy the drunken state you came home in, now feeling entirely too sober, and a little sick in the stomach. 

“Oh, so you haven’t gotten laid since I’ve been here–” He leans closer again now, trying to resume what he was going to do just moments ago. “They haven’t even touched you, have they?” His hands move to your thigh and presses down as if to hold you in place. “Why?”

“I try not to just sleep with anyone.” You lie, knowing you’d sleep with anyone just to feel wanted for once. And you’re trying to ignore his hands on you right now, trying desperately not to like it. It’s the first time a man has touched you in this house since your husband left you. As expected, you almost feel your knees buckle despite sitting comfortably. “I have to be careful, you know?”

“Mm, I know more than you think.” He leans into you, hovering yet again with his upper half over you as he whispers it. “Don’t need to be careful around me though.” He adds, this time trailing his voice right against your jaw, up to your ear. “You must be so frustrated.” He ghosts his lips there for a moment, waiting for you to push him away, or say something, anything, really. 

“Why would I be frustrated?” You lend the smallest of whispers, feeling the goosebumps against your skin rising at the mere thought of giving in just this once.

“Not having anyone to please you.” He adds now, landing a very slight kiss right under your lobe. “Always being used for someone else’s pleasure, maybe?”

You almost nod, feeling weak in your state and thoughts swimming with what if’s, morals, and anxieties. You’re frozen in place despite knowing a simple push would create the distance you need to breathe. 

“Your fingers will never be enough, will they?” He continues, essentially chaining you to this couch with his words alone. You can’t help the fight in your head, you need to feel wanted, and you want so badly to feel needed. “I bet you wish someone would love you for all that you are, not all that you have.” 

It’s silent as you feel his lips press down again, this time moving his body over you almost entirely. You can feel the couch dip a bit as he places all of his weight on a knee, moving his other leg to stand between yours.

“You must need someone to fill that hole in you by now, right? That pussy of yours?” He continues, his tone a bit more snide now as you give in to his hold with shaky breaths. 

And truthfully, Haechan has never let himself come on this strong towards someone before. Usually the wives are doing this to him. They’re trying to convince him, encourage him. He’s so fucking horny right now though, with that daze in your eye, your legs spread around his knee, blinking up at him like a cheating wife. As if you want to apologize, as if you need him to forgive you. Need him to make everything better.

“I heard you the other day, you know, talking to your mom–” He smiles, tilting his head to look into your eyes, seeing a small shine in them. “You want another, don’t you?” He continues, moving his lips now just over yours as he, now, presses you firmly against the couch. “You must hate knowing that I’m the only person who can do that for you.” 

“God, Haechan.” You immediately buckle, not realizing how suddenly he’s not Donghyuck at this moment. He’s someone else. He’s Haechan.

“Why don’t you go for girls on campus?! Don’t you have parties to be attending on the weekends instead of being here, trying to parent my chil–”

“Lower that voice of yours,” He whispers, eyes now hooded as he looks at you. “You know she’s asleep.”

God, he’s right. 

“Besides, why would I want them when I have you right here under me–” He tilts his head. “Looking so disappointed that you like it, too.” 

Right then, your moral code shines into the front of your mind at the consideration of giving in.

A weight on one shoulder chanting, “No! What would people say?! What would people think?!”, and then little to no weight on the other shoulder, echoing in a sweet song of “Finally! Someone who will love you! Finally! Someone! Finally!!! Finally!” 

You pause, not knowing at all what to do. Your body wants to push him away, even your mind and soul wants you to push him away. But you know deep down, you’d only push him away to see if he will try again. No man has ever tried for you like this, and you need more of it. 

To feel desired after so long of neglecting this side of yourself, it’s enough to make a person lose their footing in reality. To give in to just about anyone willing to look at you the way he is right now. It’s the fact that you go out to try and find it, and even with this alone, Haechan has satisfied you more than any stranger promising to make you cum.

“I…don’t know what to say–” You stutter. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I do.” Haechan smiles, glancing at your lips before meeting your eye again. “Why not hand over the reins and relax for a–” His hand dips under your skirt, cupping your sensitive cunt in one hand alone. “Ah, I knew it.” Then, his other hand finds purchase on your chest, lifting your heavy breast in his hand with a blatant, hard squeeze.

After a sharp inhale you look away from him in shame, afraid to admit it despite the truth of it leaking through your panties and onto his palm.

“Wet.” He smiles, no longer looking at you but flicking his eyes back and forth from between your legs, and to your chest. Still, he fumbles around the wet spot, wanting so badly to lift these fingers to his mouth and taste. He’s fantasized about it, about how you’d taste, how warm it would be, what your pussy would feel like against his fingers–

And just as he’s pushing your panties to the side, pads of his fingers touching right where you need them with his eyes hooded and watching you closely, something snaps.

You push his hand away, only to feel him push back, holding you down with more force, gripping your tit tighter, sliding his fingers in before massaging the slit with a blatant moan on his lips. Then, you try again, shoving him back only to hear him chuckle and continue his antics until– you jump to your feet. It felt too good, too grounding to have him touching you like this. You nearly stumble back over the coffee table, but you manage to stand tall and firm despite the fact that even though your mind feels sober, your body is fucking wasted.

“Donghyuck.” You argue immediately, using his name the same way you did when he was a child. “Stop.” 

He throws his hands up in defense, raising his brows in surprise. 

“I–” He pauses, staring at you. “I thought you were enjoying it, my mistake.” 

It’s the fact that you were. You were enjoying it too much, and there would have been no defending your actions if you had given in to the feeling. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid. That’s what you are. 

Your ex husband was right all along. Out of everything you’ve accomplished since your heart was shattered, ripped to shreds, stomped on, you’d think it would take a lot more to break you. 

“You ask for too much.” Your ex husband had said once. “You can’t even stand to be alone for one day.” He had said a year or so later. Small digs on who you are and what you need sprinkled into small arguments, only to come more and more from the lips that you kissed and promised to kiss until you die. Until all of his words were to make you feel inadequate. Until everything he said to you stuck with you, forcing your confidence to bury itself six feet under. 

Are you to blame? As it stands, maybe. Why else would you be allowing yourself to consider it? Consider Donghyuck, you mean. Never in your life would you have considered him of all people to be the one that you need. 

Never in your life would you have thought he’d be interested in a woman like you, in a situation like yours, with a child. Why did that night with him stick in your head more than every single mean thing your ex husband said to you? Why did his words seem more believable? 

Because you were drunk at the time? Wet, neglected, and drunk? 

Then why is it that you’re sitting here on your day off with your beautiful, bright-eyed daughter rummaging through your purse for whatever catches her eye….and you’re thinking about him? About what he's doing right now, how he’s feeling, if he’s eaten. 

Why is it that you’ve gone the entire week ignoring his texts, asking if you need him to come resume his job as babysitter? Why the fuck do you want to accept after how he took advantage of your state of mind? After he came onto you and tried to manipulate you? 

Despite all of his words ringing true in the back of your head. That was a dirty tactic he pulled on you. Yet, still…you want him back, and god fucking dammit you could cry knowing your daughter called him “dad.” You hadn’t believed him at first, but after this week alone it slipped from her mouth several times. 

“He’s not your dad, baby, that’s just Donghyuck.” You remember correcting her more than once, and all she responded to you with was a confused expression. 

“Why not?” Is what her little voice gave back to you after her child-like brain decided it was fed up with you correcting her very right assumption of the guy who promised her the Barbie Dream House. 

Why not?

Why not?

Well, if you could have an adult conversation with a five year old it would be much easier to answer that. Because he sprayed cheese in your hair. Because you were seventeen and his babysitter when he was twelve years old. Because you ogled him without recognizing him as your pool boy. Because of a lot of things.

“Uncle Donghyuck.” You finally corrected her again. 

She shook her head, and continued doing and saying as her little mind pleased. It made you miss having a father around for her though. You think she needs it more than you do. 

And that fucking Barbie Dream house is what brings Haechan back. 

Right at your doorstep today, with a gentle knock to the door and a timid smile on his face. He doesn’t even look at you when you open the door, instead he crouches down in front of you with the big, flashy box. He ignores you, tilting himself to look past you and straight at your daughter. 

You hold your breath when she runs to Haechan, arms spread open and laughter shrieking in your ears. Your heart aches so much at this moment. 

Given your work schedule, you’d never gotten to see them interact much. He always came over as she was eating her breakfast, and you always came home after she was put to bed. You guess it’s fair that they have a bond now. She doesn’t even run at you like she does for Haechan. In fact, the only time she ever does is when she had a bad day at daycare or had a tummy ache. 

She runs to you when she needs you, but she runs to Haechan like she wants to. Like she genuinely is attached to him, and his kind smile, and his eyes, and probably that warm embrace that you’ve never let yourself experience.

You watch them, not allowing yourself to melt at the moment because you did not invite him over, nor did you give consent to bring that fucking doll house here. But you can’t say no now, as she clings to his leg when he stands up and looks at you with an almost irritated glint in his eye. 

His eyes trail all over you briefly too, as if checking for any new spots or marks that a man could have put on you. You feel seen, dipping your head to not meet his eye and scratching your neck as if to hide a spot there. There isn’t a mark, it’s just…fear? nervousness? anxiety? 

And then he hauls the box in for her without saying a word to you. You watch him hard now that his back is turned. His voice sounds so loving when he speaks to your child as if she’s an equal. Plopping down on your living room floor with her and opening the large box. 

He Ooo’s and Aahhh’s with her as he pulls each piece out, connecting the walls, the doors, handing her little things to help him with. And both of them are so focused on the task at hand to create a safe space for all of her abused barbie dolls that… you feel invisible.

For the first time ever in front of them both, you feel like you are nothing but a ghost. That he is the single parent. As if you’re forgotten, less loved, not wanted, not even needed. 

There’s a bubbling in your gut when you tear up, reminding yourself that what Haechan did that night was probably just, well, he’s a man. Men aim to fuck at all times usually, and you guess you should have expected it at one point from him because, again, you’re aware that he’s attracted to you. Even more aware now. 

But the way you feel right now outshines that. He’s ignoring you to keep your child happy. She is ignoring you because it seems Haechan does a better job at it than you do. 

And, well, he’s not holding you down, whispering things in your ear, letting out frustrated little sighs at your drunken or drowsy words now. So, you say nothing. All you can do is go to the kitchen and prepare a snack, trying to force the tears to stay inside of you with quiet sniffles, hoping you can join their little picture perfect moment so that you can be helpful too. 

Your heart swells when they both look at you as you present a plate of snacks. You have to hold back tears again at the way their eyes shine, thanking you for the snacks. Haechan’s eyes stay on you a bit longer though, as if saying “See? See what you’re making her go without?” 

You do see it. 

But…it can’t be him. As much as you wish it could be, you just can’t. There has to be another man out there just like him, one that doesn’t have a history with you that would cause whispers and questions. There has to be. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

That moment you witnessed seems to have solidified Haechan’s place in your home. Whether it be for babysitting or simply so your child can see him when she’s asking for him (which is often.) It’s kind of an issue, actually, because now the choice isn’t yours anymore and it appears Haechan knows that.

You hate that you’re forced to see him for what he is now. How he proves himself over and over again to be the man you need. The issue is that you still don’t want it to be him. The bigger issue is that he’s breaking down your walls, doing little things for you, looking at you with those dark eyes– your resolve cracks and reminds you every time he’s here that maybe it could work. Maybe you’ll give him a chance. Maybe you won’t have to go out anymore looking to fill a void that no one else fits into. 

It’s the way that now, you can’t help but to compare him to your ex husband. The man who you loved for so long, who you genuinely thought you’d spend your life with happily and safely. Now, compared to Haechan, your ex seems like…nothing. Like a little crack in your resolve. He was older than you by just two years, took care of you for so long, impregnated you, and slowly but surely throughout all that time grew to resent you too.

You still don’t know why, but perhaps it’s just because you were growing into your own. You were becoming more independent, though he never had the capability to realize just how much you depended on him during the very time he left you. 

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Your ex had said to you on that fateful morning. 

Your belly was big as you tried to waddle up to him when he said that. You can’t help but think back now and wonder how pathetic you must have seemed when he yanked his arm from your grip, especially due to the difficulty of your pregnancy already. You were sick through most of it, only having a few good days here or there where that pregnancy glow would make your ex husband second-guess himself. 

The slam of the door after that was more exhausting than the months of pregnancy you’d gone through. It felt loud, so loud you could hear it vibrate throughout your whole body. You recall falling to the floor and carefully holding your stomach. It’s like all of the heartbreak pooled there. The loss of your husband three weeks before he got to meet the child he was supposed to love. Her little heart must have been breaking inside of you too. 

Double the pain.

And then you were mending yourself on your own. Going into labor early from stress,  your family helped take care of you more than her. You were needier. You were broken. 

And never, fucking ever, did you think you’d find yourself sitting comfortable in your lavish home realizing that your ex-husband didn’t deserve all of that pain from you. He left you for that girl, and not two months later did she leave him. 

Never did you think you’d find yourself thinking about Haechan as a replacement either. Well, not a replacement, but like, maybe just…he’s the idea of a perfect dad if you pay attention to how your child talks about him. How they act together. How she cries for him before bed when he’s not there, asking you why you don’t read to her the way Haechan does. Why don't you sing to her the way he does? Why don't you use the same voices for her dolls? Why you don’t cut her food like he does, why you don’t do this or that.

That’s what makes it click the most you think. The fact that Haechan has given her something you never can. The love of a father. It doesn’t even feel like he’s babysitting at this point, he’s parenting, teaching her lessons, bandaging small boo-boos, fixing her hair,…cooking dinner, cleaning…existing here like he belongs.

Haechan has done more for your daughter than your ex husband ever could have, more than you could have done for her too, you think. 

Even now, as you come home night after night and see him, you struggle to see him as anyone that isn’t who your daughter needs. Maybe who you need. 

His summer semester is coming to an end too, and it’s hard to see him as a college student now. He really does coursework and everything that needs to be done at your home all within a single work day? With no complaints at all? Lately, you’ve noticed that he’s been more focused on studying when he babysits too, but still your daughter listens to him better than she listens to you. 

Yet, still, it’s like you’re avoiding each other as you go through the motions, but you notice him more. You feel more discomfort because of it, mostly because you know your resolve about this is breaking. There’s a fear inside of you that revolves around him.

What if you missed your chance? 

What if it does end up being a mistake if he still wants you?

You don’t know what to do, but you know you want him. 

Some nights, Haechan does sleep over due to exhaustion and you don’t even ask him to leave because you know he’s not doing it to try anything. The avoidance is loud. Lately, you come home from work and there he is, sitting up with his laptop on his lap but sound asleep, softly snoring. Each time, you remind yourself of how he’s sacrificing his study time to babysit. You know your child can be distracting and needy when she wants something too, but he doesn’t complain even a little bit. The least you could have done was bring him a blanket, which you did. And you woke the next morning to find him curled up on the same couch, laptop toppled over onto the floor.

Small, gentle acts of kindness towards each other but never face to face. You’ve woken to fresh coffee countless times, made exactly the way you like it because you know he’s watched you make it yourself. You’ve come home to re-stocked items, like milk and eggs, laundry detergent, and even toothpaste. It’s nice, and a small indication that he doesn’t resent you. Even through face-to-face avoidance on your part.

Tonight seemed different though, compared to all of the other nights when you can’t go out. You walked through the door to the smell of dinner and your child still awake, sing-songing at you the moment you walked in. 

“Dad said I can stay up late!” 

You quirk a brow, her calling him that now becoming a regular occurrence to the point it goes through one ear and out the other for you. You recall discussing her bed time though, with absolutely no exceptions.

“Did he now?” You hug her before taking off your cardigan, walking with her to the kitchen where you find Haechan, placing down a small plate on the table with cartoon characters on it, right in front of two bigger plates with bigger portions of delicious looking food placed neatly on it.

Your heart swells, but your anxiety grows twice as big alongside it. This. 

This is what you’ve wanted for so long. This is what you never thought you could find. So, why is it that you still have push-back in your mind? Despite knowing that Haechan has proven himself time and time again, you want to argue?! 

Perhaps it’s because you like the way he tries. Maybe you’re not ready to lose that feeling of being chased in some way, of being begged to let him stay. Maybe it’s because you begged your husband, desperate for him to keep you, but he left anyway. It feels like Haechan gives you power over yourself, over your love-life, over everything, really. 

And if you were to actually accept his advances, even just a dinner on your table, what if he stops? What if he gets bored once he gets what he wants? After all, he’s still young, you can’t truly imagine he wants to do this forever. 

Not with you, and not with your daughter either. 

“What’s all this? Isn’t it a bit late for her to have dinner?” You question him instantly, anxiety bubbling up out of assumption alone. 

“We had a small snack a few hours ago.” Haechan reassures you. “I finished my exams and had a burst of energy to celebrate, besides, it’s a Friday–” He goes to pull out a chair for you. “You don’t need to be up early either. A late dinner every now and then never hurt anybody.”

The way this is the first time the two of you have had a face-to-face conversation since…that night. His voice calms you, and that’s scary. 

You huff, happy because you could easily melt into this chair and pretend you’re having a family dinner, like you always wanted, like you never rejected a touch from him that you desperately wanted. You could just play along and pretend Haechan is everything you need. Except, it wouldn’t even be pretending at this point. The whole idea of him has changed. But, again, that anxiety. You still have that little voice holding you back, no matter what you want, or what you need, you fear it’ll be ripped from you again if you were to let yourself be weak for another person.

“I’m really tired, Donghyuck.” You explain, walking past the kitchen and towards your bedroom. “Thanks for dinner but I’m not too hungry and I just want to lay down.”

And with that, he watches you leave. No real appreciation, no congratulations on him finishing his exams, not even a kiss to your child’s forehead. Is he still expected to be the one to put her to sleep? 

Why is he even here? Why did he do all of this? 

His patience is running dry.

So, he eats with your child as your plate goes cold and he leaves it there. If you can’t even handle a dinner at the table with the person who cooked it, you can deal with your own fucking plate. Throw away your own fucking food, wash your own fucking dish. And if you can’t tuck your child into bed, he’ll do it, but you can shove that fake ass exhaustion right up your ass for all he cares. 

He knows you’re not exhausted. He’s seen you when you are. You’re just being an asshole to him at this point, trying to appear like you’re perfectly happy with the life you live when your drunken rants prove otherwise. You treat him like everything he does has an ulterior motive. Which, yeah, maybe it does, but he was genuinely excited to have someone celebrate the end of this semester with him. Maybe assuming you’d indulge him went too far. For the first time, he wasn’t doing it to impress you.

By the time Haechan gets your daughter to bed, all tucked in with a little tune to fall asleep to, he closes her door and just stands there in the silence on the other side of it. 

You must really enjoy being a single mother, huh? This is why too. He always questioned it. You’re so attractive, so well-adjusted. You work hard, your daughter is a sunshine in this world, and you’ve not managed to find anyone to love you yet? He thought he was lucky to be the one getting to spend time with you. 

Turns out, you refuse to let anyone in despite Haechan knowing, fucking seeing straight through you. You want something from someone. You need it, yearn for it, even. But it’s almost laughable at the way you refuse it. 

Excuses, excuses, excuses. 

It’s the fucking audacity you have taking advantage of him. You’ve practically led him on. You lend him everything he wants in life. That’s it. You lend it. From flaunting yourself before you go to bars, to exposing all the marks you allow other men to leave on you. Letting him stay in this house, father your child, cook, clean, mend, fix, heal. 

From being a faux-father to being minimized to a college student that you used to babysit. He’s offered you relief in so many ways including sexual, and all you fucking do is avoid, deny, fucking reject him. You still go out to bars, later and later you’ll come home with new swells against your skin, but always looking so empty and disappointed. Sometimes he thinks you try to make him jealous. Sometimes, he thinks you want him to try again. 

Sometimes, he thinks you get off on the fact that he keeps trying.

And he has tried. Albeit more gently lately, but he has. Small, lingering touches when he hands you your coat to help you get out the door and to work quicker. Starting your car for you before you leave. Fuck, he even opens the goddamn door for you. Anything to make you feel appreciated, respected, and fucking wanted.

The silence is loud in his ears due to the sheer irritation as he drops his head, staring at his feet and knowing it’ll only take a few strides to reach your bedroom. A room he still craves to be in.

He’s raided those drawers by now, because of course he has. Soiling your panties, your sheets, anything that still smells like you when you’re gone for the day, all so he can act normal upon seeing you when you come home. He’s laid in your bed by now too, wondering what it would feel like to have your weight beside him. He fantasized about anything and everything he possibly could in there.

And he’s always warmer. Always cums the hardest with weak, muffled moans as he stuffs your pillows into his mouth to keep quiet. All before cleaning every trace of himself there, closing the door, and wishing he was allowed to exist in there with you. 

Right now will be the first time Haechan enters your room to your knowledge, and it sucks for him because he has essentially trained himself to get hard every time he opens this fucking door. Still, he composes himself, and it’s a bit of a shock if you’re being honest.  You thought he’d go home after this, you were kind of hoping he would after you made it so awkward. 

You felt guilty the second you saw his expression fall to your rejection of eating dinner like a big fucking happy family. You want it so bad, you want him so bad.

When you left the kitchen, you immediately went to your room and hopped in the shower, well aware that he wouldn’t follow you. You thought hard while the hot water made attempts to wash away your feelings. Would it have been so bad to just eat with him? With your daughter? With both of them? The way his eyes fell, it burned your heart a little bit.

Still, no answers came to you because you know part of you just wants to see what else he will do for you. Despite the history with him, and despite knowing his entire family would question and scoff at you for it…Is it really so wrong? To want to give him a chance just to see if he’ll leave you too? 

Just to see if it’ll hurt when he does it too?

Inviting him to your home almost every day of the week isn’t wrong, right? Forgetting to pay him all those times before, hoping to see him again and get that confidence boost, that wasn’t wrong. Letting your daughter attach herself to him when you swore he wasn’t permanent, no longer having the energy to correct her use of “dad” towards him… none of that is wrong.

 It’s all Haechan. He’s the one in the wrong for willingly following along, not you. Right? 

And as you’re sitting on your bed in your towel, zoning out and staring at your floor, Haechan swings your bedroom door open without a single knock, mindfully closes it, and immediately goes off on you.

Somehow, you really expected him to accept your rejection but your heart swells that he didn’t. You don’t think he ever will, and you’re exhausting yourself hoping he’ll prove you wrong.

He’s shown you enough by now. This is what breaks down that wall inside of you, isn’t it?

“What am I doing wrong?” He shoots his first question out in a desperate whisper shout, eyes searing into you before continuing without a single breath. “Because I do everything for her, and i do everything  for you, does that really make you so fucking uncomfortable?”

“D–” You try to respond, feeling your skin prickle at the sheer irritation in his expression.

He’s fighting for you.

“Isn’t that what you want?!”

“After everything I do–” He throws his hands up now, running his fingers through his hair as if you make him feel like he wants to rip it out. “After trying to make your life easy while making mine harder, for what? You to not eat the fucking food I made? For you to go to the bar all the time just to come back disappointed like I’m not right here waiting for you to come back?” 

“What ar-”

“Don’t ask me any stupid fucking questions, Just answer me.” He drops his hands, stepping up to you, placing both hands on either side of your hips, doing his best not to react to your near-naked body. “Why?”

You lean back, trying to create more distance to try and give him an answer that you don’t even know yourself, but he just keeps closing in. Not letting you escape this time. You’ve never seen him so riled up before, it’s…

Well…

“Because I came onto you? Because I tried to do what no one else will do for you?” His voice shakes when he says it, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. Is he…about to cry?

Only now, seeing him so close with an entirely sober brain do you realize an answer. Maybe not to his question of why, but to the same question you’ve been asking yourself. It’s because of that look in his eye. You’ve never been able to put a word to it, but now with him demanding you explain yourself so closely, you see it.

He’s desperate. 

Arguably as desperate as you’ve felt to fill the void. Except, he’s trying to do that for you and you won’t let him out of what? Fucking fear? Hell, at this point the history means close to nothing when it comes to all the new memories he’s made in this home, even without you. The history of babysitting him, the history of your ex husband leaving you. It doesn’t matter.

You think hard, so hard that you feel your eyes burn as you stare up at him. Glancing without intention to his jaw when he clenches it, to his neck when he swallows his words, to his lips, his eyes, the hair falling in his face…and you just–

You reach up, running a soothing hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Then you see those same desperate eyes somehow grow more desperate as he lowers them, leaning into the touch, as if you’ve been starving him the same way you’ve been starved for years. He falls silent too, cutting himself off mid-question just to feel you touch him for the first time.

“I don’t know.” You say, which seems like a better answer than having an excuse. What can you say otherwise? That it’s because it shouldn’t  be him? That you’re afraid he’ll realize he’s not ready to settle? To be a dad? He’ll ask why, and it’ll be the same answer you gave on that drunken night. An answer that you no longer care about. 

You babysat him when he was a child, but you were still a child too. 

You were still a child, and time changes things.

Your ex husband left you, and you’re afraid he will too, especially because he’s so much younger? Who cares?

Your answer seems to fly right past his head though, because he’s still leaning to feel your fingers in his hair, and he’s looking at you as if nothing you say will matter unless you make it hold some weight to him. 

“Donghyuck–” You pause, scratching right at his nape, uncaring of how you can feel your towel loosening on your body. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Somehow, his name on your lips is what he needed to hear. The tone of it, the rasp in your voice, your fingers in his hair. Actions speak louder than anything the two of you could say right now, and he can’t help it. Nothing can stop him, not even you at this point. 

He hasn’t done anything wrong you say? It’s because he fucking knows what you need.

You inhale deeply, holding your breath when you feel your back hit your mattress, his warm hands instantly taking advantage of your freshly-showered state and tugging at the towel just slightly to let it fall open. You hear a slight breath from him at that moment, an inhale. There, he climbs onto the bed, nudging himself between your legs and trapping you there under him, both hands holding your arms down.

Like he’s afraid you’ll reject him again.

“You’re going to let me take care of you now.” He demands, though to him it sounds more like a plea solely due to the fact that he’s so fucking turned on it’s unreal. That feeling of when your fingers were in his hair? Seeing your naked body? Unshaved pussy? Being in this fucking room with you? It throws him into overdrive, especially with the way you just lay there blinking up at him in surprise. The anger melting away only amplifies it more. 

How could you do this to him? Genuinely, how could you have let him fucking suffer for you like this? 

Still, you blink up as if you’re a deer caught in headlights and it makes his heart thump against his ribcage. Your eyes are so bright, that glint of sadness he had seen so many times isn’t there right now. And there’s so much adrenaline inside of him, like he needs to move fast before you change your mind again. You’ve not let him do this for some fucking reason or another and now you’re just laying here for him.

 There, with your entire body on display, and you appear to be docile. Fucking obedient? Like he always knew you would be if you’d just drop the fucking act?! You were meant for him and him alone, and he’s going to show you why.

In all honesty, you’re tired of denying yourself by now. From the moment you saw him that day cleaning your pool for the first time, you’ve wanted him on some level. It wasn’t an emotional attachment, but a hope, a fantasy for you. And when you recognized him, you were more impressed with him than embarrassed. You tried not to let your eyes wander out of guilt, out of feeling like a pervert. 

And then, that day when he came onto you, he was just a man to you. Your faux guilt kept you from letting him, and your hope to be chased kept you from it too. As if you’ve never pleasured yourself to the thought of him, shamefully in this very bed. As if you’ve never called out his name with a silent breath. If you keep going at this point, you’ll lose him before ever knowing what he could really be for you. 

This is his last ditch effort to beat you at your own game, and you’re ready to lose.

  So, now, you let yourself get lost in him. In his eyes and the way he pleads and makes his demands. He probably doesn’t recognize his strength against you right now, or how much it’s turning you on. With the way he has both hands on your wrists, probably bruising them, and there’s nothing you could do even if you wanted to. His weight holding you down feels better than you imagined. 

After so long, with so many failed hookups where you’ve told them of your daughter and all they’ve done in return is get their orgasm then leave…Haechan. He wants to take care of you? 

He wants to…give you what you need?

Fuck, you know he can. That’s the fucked up part. He’s proved it so many times to you in so many ways. You’ve watched him, the way he moves and acts around you. He’s exactly what you need.You pushed him to this point, where his sanity is on the brink of crashing. Taking it away from him again feels wrong, because it’s exactly what you want.

And when he presses his leg between yours, he knows.

“Again?” He comments, now releasing your wrist from one hand and running it down, able to slip his fingers right into the slick of your bare pussy. “You’re wet.” 

You still just blink up at him with an intake of breath at the pleasure, thoughts running left and right on what to do, finally realizing you don’t want to do a damn thing. He’d do it all if you let him. Clean your house, be a father, fix all of the breaks, make you wet.

And you just feel him, the way his fingers play around with what he does to you. You can practically feel his confidence rise at the way you spread your legs a bit more, as if to give him more access. When you look at him, his expression remains harsh, but slowly he moves himself down, lips brushing over one of your nipples while keeping eye contact.

Still that irritated look, like he’s mad you haven’t let him do this before now.

“How many times are you going to pretend like I’m not the one who gets you wet?” He asks before rubbing circles around your clit, tongue flicking in the same way around your nipple. “Like I don’t have a right to take care of you?”

Your breath is still caught in your throat, trying to be careful about what you say right now despite knowing you can’t speak. You focus on what he’s doing instead, losing yourself to something you’ve not felt in far, far too long. 

He’s right. He’s gotten you wet more than once by now. More than he knows. 

And goddamn, he knew your tits could bounce, but the way they move without the support of a bra, the plush, soft feeling of your nipple growing erect in his mouth, all for him to bite and pull at. He does it too, listening to the little seething sound of pain from you when he pulls all the way back with your nipple between his teeth. Only to let it fall from his mouth and break eye contact with you to see the jiggle as it falls.

His cock twitches, at everything that you are right now, feeling more pleasure through seeing you like this alone compared to fucking his own fist on your bedroom floor. He notes how your legs squeeze him more at the nipple stimulation than his fingers too, memorizing the way your labia falls open between them. He smirks, flicking his tongue more, quicker. 

There. There it is.

A low rumble in your chest falls from your lips. Soft, a moan. A very small, delicate sound.

“You like this?” Haechan asks, looking up at you, letting his tongue fall from his mouth again and flicking the erect nub. “When I play with your tits?”

You nod, throwing an arm over your face in embarrassment that this is actually happening. You’re letting him. Already you feel yourself heat up more, even when he takes his fingers away from your clit and instead, uses them to flick your other nipple. 

And he does this for a few minutes. Paying special attention to your tits, going back and forth with his fingers and tongue to each bud, trying so hard to not stop just to shove his cock between them and use them the way he’s always wanted. He focuses on drawing out more and more little sounds from you instead, slurping his own saliva from your painfully erect nipples, pulling back, blowing cold air, then warming it up again with his lips. All while simultaneously groping, flicking, and pinching with his other hand. 

“Jesus, Haechan–” You moan quietly, chest rising and falling as he squeezes and licks against you. 

That’s right, say his name. Let him fucking know he’s doing what you like. Haechan thinks, feeling his cock weep in his pants as he does it. Wondering just how sensitive you are to be reacting like this to simple nipple stimulation. God, he’s wanted to suck on these for so long, and now you’re letting him. They’re so big, so plush. He wants to fucking cover them with his mouth, he wants to bury his face in them, kiss them all over them. 

And if they were to get bigger? He moans at the thought, remembering that conversation you had with your mom. You want another. He bets they’d swell up–Oh, fuck yeah. They’d probably hurt to rub against your shirt. God, fuck, he can’t control his thoughts right now.

 Finally. 

Fucking finally, he has you and he’s not going to let you run away again.

He doesn’t fucking care if it’s forward. He wants what he wants, you want what you want. That want just so happens to line up. Besides, he’s already proved himself to you, he knows it. If you’re letting him do this, maybe you’d let him stay like this. 

“Did they get bigger?” He moans briefly as he swaps to your other nipple again. “So full, so heavy, were they leaking all over you?”

You listen to him, trying not to feel the pit in your stomach bubble with even more arousal at his blatant and dirty words, feeling your clit throb at the stimulation your tits are getting right now. 

“Makes my dick fucking throb just thinking about it. Fuck–” 

“Let me give you another,” He mumbles now, almost mindlessly before looking up at you with an intense gaze as he bites down, indicating that he’s not mindless about it at all. 

“Swell you up, make you glow–”

Oh. 

Why is that– why are you dripping?

He hears that moan you let out. Different from the others, almost desperate.

“Mm, yeah.” He encourages it, now allowing his hand to travel back down to witness how much wetter you’ve gotten at those words. So messy, so perfect. “Knew you’d want it raw.”

You can’t help the nod, as it comes before you even process his words solely because you feel his fingers slip inside of you. You haven’t been this wet in so, so long. You want to feel it. To be full again, of anything. Of him.

“Ye-” You start, interrupting yourself with a bite of your lip and your eyes rolling back. 

“That’s right mama,” He coos, tilting his fingers up and amplifying the pressure inside of you. “Gonna let me take good care of this pussy, yeah?” He adds, lifting from your tits and ghosting his lips over yours. 

He watches you closely, that daze in your eye. God, you look so horny right now. There’s nothing more he wants than to see this time and time again. To let you wake up every morning with his warm cum inside of you, to see your belly swell with his child, to see your tits grow until they hurt. 

He’d take care of you. He’d take good fucking care of you. 

“Say something.” Haechan whispers against your lips, darting his tongue out against your lips, angling his fingers up and making you moan. “Say you want me to give it to you raw.”

You open your mouth, feeling his tongue lick and swallow up that moan you just gave him before you try to compose yourself. You can’t help it, you���re so, so sensitive right now and you can’t help but find it incredibly sexy to be here, laid bare, while he’s still fully clothed.

Like he really is doing this for you. He’s not trying to get his own orgasm and leave. You’re weak and those words of “let me give you another” shines in your head. Weak, you’re weak. You should be thinking about condoms, you should be thinking about the consequences of this. 

But you’re not. 

You do like it raw.

“Haechan–” You stutter as you try to grasp the reality of his words, feeling his fingers repeatedly hit right where you need it. “I’m…not protected.”

He moans. Loudly, before huffing out an irritated groan.

“You must really want it then.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Going out all the time trying to get fucked–” 

He plunges his fingers in again, deep, and holds them there as he pulls back to look at you. To really look at you, then he glares.

“You’d really let just some fucking dude give you a baby?” 

You repeatedly shake your head. 

“No!” You retort, thrusting your hips up. “I just–”

“Mhm,” He pulls his fingers out now, sliding himself down so fast that you can barely comprehend him sucking your clit into his mouth before pulling back in a moan at the taste of you. “If mama wants another, daddy will give her one.” He says now, as if to pacify you.

As if to give you everything. 

And you’d argue, really, you would.  You want another child so bad, but this is– it’s too soon. You haven’t even established a relationship with him yet. Boundaries haven’t been discussed. His college plan– but fuck it’s not entirely your fault that you’re like, super turned on by the idea of it. To the thought of being so filled with cum that there’s no possible way you couldn’t end up pregnant. An indication that, no matter what, no man at a club could fulfill the arousal for you even if they cared to do it. 

You’d never have let them actually fuck you raw. 

Haechan though…how can you keep telling him no?

How could you reject him again when you want it so badly? 

Fuck now, think later.

“Yeah–” You say against your better judgement, hands reaching down to his hair so you can grind up against his mouth, lost to the arousal as you mimic what he referred to himself as. “Daddy?”

You feel his mouth fall slack at that, as if you’re accepting him in full now. You feel your clit hit nothing in his open mouth, but it throbs harder. 

 He knew you were slightly into him for letting him do this at all, but now, you’re truly accepting it. Like you know he’ll fucking do it, like you want him to fucking do it.

“That’s right,” He moans against your clit as he licks at it, barely able to comprehend your voice calling him that but clinging to it all the same.  “Gonna let daddy do it all for you.”  

Yeah. You are. You’re gonna let him do it. All of it. 

And then, the room is enveloped in quiet moans, more from Haechan than from you due to your breath being stuck in your throat. His tongue, licking every part of your sensitive cunt, his hands reaching back up to your tits, fondling, pinching, painfully tugging at them as he moans louder, louder, louder for you to want him.

He presses his hips up and against your mattress as he tastes you, so deeply it hurts his cock to neglect it like this. Each rub feels raw, twitching and pulsing to be let out, to be inside of you, on you, against you. Filling you up with his cum, plugging it in as a promise that you can’t leave him even if you wanted to. 

He’s going to fucking do exactly what he said he would. 

And only when you feel his tongue lap against your hole do you finally release your breath, “Daddy” coming out in a choked back sob. It breaks him, his body going into overdrive as he pulls back and just– stares at you with wild eyes. 

You stare back up at him, knowing that calling him that means something more than a cringe little roleplay kink. It means something deeper to him. He wants to be a dad, a real one.

“Oh yeah?” He finally says, hands going straight to his button and zipper. 

You can’t help it, biting your lower lip as you blink up, watching his shoulders move, the veins on his arms protruding as he rushes to pull it out and– oh. You moan at it, the way his heavy, slicked up, cock falls out, dark, needy. 

“Daddy–” You urge him on, knowing that it’s driving him absolutely insane. 

“Mhm?” He shuffles himself off the bed, letting his pants drop as he lifts his shirt off of him and fucking glares at your tits. “You want daddy’s cock?”  He adds now, shooting his eyes up to you as both of his hands land on your legs.

Your mind goes blank when you feel him slide his hands around to the back of your thighs, pushing your legs forward, curling you in on yourself, forcing your pussy to be out and on display for him. 

And you watch him, the way he stares down at it. It’s embarrassing to be so seen right now, not having expected to get fucked open by anyone tonight, let alone him. You probably should have shaved or something, or like, not gotten out of the habit in the first place. But he moans at it, mouth falling open at the fact that you are entirely a fucking woman. 

A fucking mother.

The prettiest pussy he’s ever fucking seen let alone tasted.

And he moans, breaking the silence, forgetting only for a moment how long he’s been wanting this. It boosts your confidence more than you’ve ever felt. His reaction to this is more than your ex husband’s reaction to you when you were pristine and borderline pornstar quality. 

Haechan doesn’t see you as used and neglected, he just sees you. And this. This is the pussy he wants. This is what he wants to put his baby in. 

When he flicks his eyes back to you, with that same open mouthed expression, it knocks the breath out of you. There’s so much love in his eyes, or maybe lust, you don’t care. You think you’re matching that expression for him too, because it’s like he can’t hold back anymore. He can’t just sit and look at you anymore. 

He just can’t.

And you feel it, his thick head pushing past the tightened, pulsing hole and not stopping. He pushes in slowly, painfully slow, to the point you’re both looking at each other with a slack jaw. Finally. The pain of it, the pleasure, the fucking need you’ve been trying to fulfill. 

That look on your face drives him wild too, he knows he has you by now. You like it, you love the way he slides in and makes damn sure you feel it. Every second of the slide pries you open, and he wants to remember this moment forever. He wants you to fucking remember too. 

Wants you to know that no one will ever fit inside of you so perfectly, so deeply.

When he finally bottoms out, he leans forward to keep himself buried deep as he ghosts his lips over yours. He feels the way you try to kiss him, but he pulls back with a confident smirk. 

“When was the last time you’ve felt a cock so deep in you?” He whispers hotly, knowing you need not answer. Knowing you won’t answer, not with the way you’re instantly lifting your head and kissing him. 

Your pussy pulses around him when you lick into his mouth, the first real kiss sending his heart soaring. He twitches inside of you with each squeeze, and kisses you harder, deeper. And somehow, it brings tears to your eyes. 

The way he kisses, the way he makes you feel him. Fuck, the way he makes you feel whole, so wanted, like you’re amazing to him. In more ways than just a body to fuck, but he’s stuck around despite all of your avoidance and rejections. You hope you’re making it worth it. 

Fuck, you need to feel worth it to him.

“You’d better not fucking pull out.” You groan through a breath, his lips still kissing you through your words as he finally pulls his hips back, fucking in once. 

Hard.

Honestly, could you have said anything else at this moment? He’s trying to make this last, he needs it to last. If you keep fucking talking, saying everything he’s ever wanted to hear– 

“Fuck,”  He moans, his hands moving up to your cheeks as he licks into your mouth. “You can’t–”  He continues, fucking in again, moving your body up with each thrust do to the sheer force of him trying to plunge in as deep as he can. “You can’t fucking say that to me right now.”

You’re seeing stars though, unable to say anything else as your eyes roll back at the way the head of his cock practically kisses your cervix with each push into you. He’s so rough, so desperate for it. 

You don’t think he expected you to respond either, with the way he keeps his lips on yours, his body pressed so closely that having your legs to your chest means nothing to him now. Mating press be damned, he’s lost his mind to the feeling, not the aesthetic of being a fucking dad. 

Your legs wrap around him instead, and he’s all too happy to feel it. Your legs hug him the same way your arms do, the same way your pussy does, and he’s fucking in love with you. 

He braces one hand back against your leg, holding it against his hips as he continues to fuck forward, still at the same pace. Deep and with purpose. Every few seconds the bursts of pleasure run through him, making him shiver and moan into your mouth. Little grunts, near whimpers for you to let him give you the world. 

More than this. More than fucking, more than taking care of you, more than anything he could ever possibly give you. He’ll find a way. 

And then, you’re clenching hard, matching his near-whimpers except moaning in full pants, babbling and drooling cries against his mouth. 

“Mama–” Haechan soothes, continuing his pace as he tilts his head back to get a good look at that lost gaze in your eyes. “You’re crying?”

You nod with a laugh, tears rolling down the same way the wet of your cunt slips down your ass. You’ve never felt so good, so fucking full.  And for some reason, that does him in. Making it last be damned, he genuinely thinks he’s won you over. He can make it last next time, he can do more next time, he can–

He leans back all the way now, onto his knees as your legs try to hug him back to you, and his eyes go straight back to those tits. The way he made a promise. The way they bounce, slick with his sweat from pressing against you. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He grunts in a breath, now quickening his pace and snapping his hips. Pulling out all the way briefly to plunge into your again. “Can’t get any deeper–” He continues, flicking his eyes from your face, to your tits, to that beautiful pussy of yours swallowing him up. 

Now his eyes roll back, hands going back to your thighs to push you back into position. No way in hell can he last, not at a pace like this, inside of a woman like you. 

“Don’t pull out.” You repeat again in a breath, seeing his face and the way he focuses solely on you. You know he’s going to cum, and you want him to. You want to feel it, every single fucking drop of it. 

“Yeah?” He nods his head with laser-focus on your pussy now, staring down as he points tight, short thrusts inside of you. “Momma wants my cum? Hm?”

Oh, he’s fucking gone.

“She likes it?” He continues to talk himself up. “Likes being so fucking full of it? Yeah?” 

Goddamn, fuck, he’s insane. 

“Yes, daddy–” You whisper-shout, fingers shooting to your clit, other hand raising to your mouth to silence the moans as to not be too loud. 

“Fuck, yeah you do.”  He lets out a near growl, his voice low and rumbled as he slaps your hand away, pressing hard on your clit with his thumb as he buries himself in you once more and stiffening his abs. “That’s right.”

And instantly upon feeling him pulse, that first spurt of cum painting your insides, you lose yourself with him. Your fingers drop from your mouth and you release a pornographic moan for him, rutting yourself against him, as if to fuck it deeper into you. 

It only prolongs the orgasm though, for both of you. 

Haechan is silent, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure as you pulse and squirt around him, his thumb pressing so hard  into your clit, his cock cumming so deep, filling you up so well– He wants to see it. Wants to watch you fall apart for him. Wants to witness the way you let him do this. 

And he holds himself there, so hard and so full of pleasure for you. Keeping himself practically impaled against your cervix until your body falls slack. Still, he fucks it into you, holding you in place with a softer moan now. No longer guttural or deep from his chest. His breathing is rough, a soft, near feminine moan leaves his lips as he falls forward onto you. 

You wince along with him at the sensitivity, panting, a sweating tangle of a mess the two of you have become. And it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever gotten off at the same time as someone else. You feel…soft. 

Your hands find their way to his hair as his face squished against your tits while he regains breath, not daring to move his hips because your pussy is too warm to leave right now. You brush the sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, running your fingers all the way back to his nap, and then slowly down his back to rub and scratch.

He shivers at the feeling, humming the same feminine-tone he had released previously. And all he can do is hear your heart thumping against your chest, even through these soft tits of a pillow he’s lying against.

Haechan never wants to move again, not from this spot, ever. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Haechan mentions briefly after a long moment of silence, looking up at you with his wet hair. 

Deep in the night, your food still cold and on the table, you’ve found yourself freshly showered and on your living room couch with Haechan’s head on your lap. He made sure to have stayed long enough inside of you to implant…something if it was going to happen. So he didn’t argue a shower, and you didn’t argue letting him join you either. 

He had washed you, gently running his hands between your legs with what you can only describe as the softest, most alluring face a man has ever given you. Like he won the lottery, or found the answer to eternal life or something. You repaid him by letting him admire your tits again while you jerked him off, but that’s besides the point. 

“Like, I’m not going to leave. I hope you know that.” He adds with a soft groan to your hands still in his hair. His new favorite thing. 

You look down at him, hand moving to his cheek as the words hit you in the chest.

There’s anxiety along with happiness, at all of the boundaries and serious conversations that will need to be had now, but still, you feel like you’re glowing when he looks at you.

He didn’t even have to say it, and arguably you probably don’t need to say it back either. You think he sees it in you. Even if he didn’t, you think he’d take anything you give to him and cling to it. After all, it only took one time for you to break entirely for him. 

“Are you now?” You smile with a chuckle, looking back to the tv and pretending to watch it. “Well, that’s good. Otherwise I’d be making you go get a plan B or something.” 

His eyes narrow at you.

“Like hell I’d let you, even if I didn’t love you.” He groans. “But I do, so don’t ever say that shit again.”

You chuckle, feeling the calm in your home that once felt so chaotic. It’s quiet now, both inside and outside of your head. 

“Congratulations, by the way.”

He looks at you with question, quirking a brow.

“For finishing your finals, I mean.” You smile, going back to petting through his hair and feeling like you’re on top of the world, despite what you assume to become half of your world lying his head on top of you. 

“Oh, right.” He smiles, now turning his head to watch the tv. “I probably failed them.”

You don’t believe that, but even if he did, you think you could be what he needs too. He wouldn’t have to work if he didn’t want to.

If he’s really in love with you, all he’d have to do is…not leave. 

“Are you sure you want to be having these conversations with me? You can just call it a hook-up.” You finally say, hoping he means it, knowing it breaks your heart a bit to give him an out. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to trap you here just because I’m a little smitten too.” 

Haechan glares, blinking up at you.

“I literally just tried to put a baby in you.” 

That’s fair. 

“And you’re not going to run off? Get cold feet?” 

“Can you stop doubting me and just let me do what I want for once?” He argues playfully. “Do you even know how much that barbie fucking dream house costed me? I couldn’t run even if, for some stupid ass reason, wanted to. I love her too.”

Silence for a moment.

“Maybe even more than I love you.” 

You really, really, want to believe him.

So, you do. 

[dreamsteddie]

Nancy knows what people think when they see her and Steve together these days. People mostly include Robin Buckley who, despite what they both say, Nancy doesn't completely believe isn't carrying some kind of torch for the man.

They aren't dating, but it's obvious to anyone who knows them that's what Nancy is angling for. She's not subtle, and she's not trying to be. Doesn't see any reason why she should be. But she knows what it looks like. Nancy Wheeler, fresh off an amicable but heartbreaking end to her relationship with Johnathan Byers has turned tail for a rebound with former boyfriend Steve Harrington. She's using him. She's leading him on. She's going to break his heart, again.

The truth is that Nancy has always liked Steve, was in love with Steve for a fleeting moment when they were both young and stupid and full of mistakes waiting to be made and in the end they had hurt each other, misunderstood each other, too many times to last through their tumultuous teenage years.

The Nancy and Steve of 1984 couldn't have loved each other right, but Nancy knows in her heart that the Nancy and Steve of 1987 could make something beautiful.

Steve is so different from who he used to be. There's a steadiness in him that he always tried to emulate but never fully embodied until the summer of 1985. He always knew how to make her laugh, how to get her to tap into that adventurous spirit within her and live life, but now he also makes her feel safe.

She wants to hold him the way he used to hold her. Wants to whisk him away to New York and build a life perfectly balanced between her ambition and his steadfastness. So she's putting everything she has into rekindling those embers that have always smoldered between them into a steady fire.

She just has to convince Robin that she's in it for the long haul this time.

------

Robin thinks that before she met Steve Harrington her life was never so much like a soap opera.

Her best friend seems to attract danger, betrayal, and romance to him like the world is full of moths and he's the only flame for miles. It would be funnier if it wasn't so god damn annoying sometimes.

Steve doesn't know it, despite how much he insists on being some kind of love expert, but he's got two very eligible bachelors vying for his hand at the moment. She's pretty sure they both see themselves as tragic heroes in this tale of romance, but from her vantage point, it's more like two ornery cats fighting for the prized spot of their owner's lap.

Nancy and Eddie have made themselves both near-permanent fixtures at the Family Video. Ostensibly, they come in because Hawkins is still in the process of rebuilding and there isn't much to do at the moment outside of wandering the woods, loitering at the convenience store, and watching movies at home. In actuality they're both trying to monopolize as much of Steve's time as possible, each trying to lock down his weekend plans before the other.

The first couple of weeks it was funny just to watch, now the only enjoyment she gets out of the whole circus is ruining their plans. She relishes the pissed-off-priss look she gets from Nancy when she asks Steve to go to the drive-in the next town over and Robin turns it into a group outing instead. It's equally funny to watch Eddie's puffed-up shoulders droop when he can't figure out a way to say no to Robin enthusiastically asking if she can join them at the trailer to smoke up on a Saturday night.

In truth, as much as she enjoys messing with them, Robin knows who she wants to win this war. She knows too much about Steve and Nancy's past and all the ways they weren't good for each other to trust her deceptively fragile best friend in Nancy's capable hands.

Eddie, on the other hand...well she's still going to make him work for it before she throws him a bone.

------

Eddie's never been one to fall in love.

He's had crushes, shared a few kisses with girls and boys alike, and lost his virginity in the same fumbling but meaningful way most teens do.

But love? He's never had that before, wasn't sure what it would even feel like.

It turns out that for Eddie, being in love feels a lot like being an overgrown house plant that's finally been moved into suitably a larger pot.

You see, Eddie knows a lot about growing up on his own. Raising himself and finding ways to survive, if not thrive, with a distinct lack of nurturing. He knows how to grow under someone, to grow under the clumsy guidance of his uncle Wayne who never intended to become a parent. And most of all he knows a hell of a lot about growing despite. Growing under the harsh boot forever trying to push him back into the hard dirt he came from.

It's something else entirely to grow with someone in the way he's been growing with Steve.

Steve who was there when he woke up, almost equally as injured as Eddie himself after a second, world saving round with Vecna. Steve who let Eddie lean on him in the difficult month of physical and emotional recovery that came next. Who helped Eddie come to terms with the new reality he was living under the way Steve wished someone had been there for him after his first encounter with the Upsidedown. Steve, who on paper should have been one of the people pushing him down, always gave Eddie the space to be himself and never tried to force either of them into a box they didn't fit.

Eddie knows he's not The Girl. He's not the one who got away, he's not the stalwart princess in one of his campaigns who saves the day herself but still gets the guy. He's not Nancy Wheeler.

But he's also not a quitter, and even if everything about the world and the narrative arc of their lives says that Steve will never end up with him, Eddie knows he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't put his hat in the ring for the hand of the fair Sir Steve.

------

Steve's not stupid.

He knows that there's something happening between Nancy, Eddie, and himself. Knows that if he chooses to look a little closer, to examine why exactly all his weekends are suddenly booked up and Robin has taken to stealing the Recese's Pieces off the shelf whenever either one of them comes into the store like she's settling in for a show, he would come to the conclusion that two of his best friends are essentially courting him in competition with each other.

But Steve isn't looking closer.

His mom always said that he was just like his father, too stubborn for his own good.

Robin says he's a control freak, pushing non-life-threatening problems off until he knows how to deal with them on his own terms.

The truth is Steve already knows how this will end, and he knows how this should end.

Because in the eyes of society, in the arc of the narrative, Steve and Nancy should already be making plans to move out to New York and start a life together. Steve should be looking at apartments while Nancy finalizes her class schedule. He should be looking into getting a job at his dad's New York office to support his future wife through her college education where they both know she'll breeze through her classes and move onto the world-changing career she was always meant to have, while Steve stays home with their children like a perfect little modern family.

And the thing is, if the story had gone like it was supposed to, if the world had been saved the fourth time around and Eddie Munson had died on the cold, hard ground of the Upsidown, that's probably exactly the future that would have happened and Steve would have never known to not be content with it. But Eddie did make it, and while Steve mourns the future he could have had, he knows it's not the one he's going to choose in the end.

Even though Steve knows exactly what will happen when he allows himself to face the ever-mounting tension between the three of them, it's scary to take that plunge.

Everything about Steve's world up until Robin has told him that what he's going to choose will damn him forever, and even if he's never put much stock into God and the church, he knows that the future in front of them will never be easy. There's a part of him that wants to take the easy way out. He's never been attracted to a man before Eddie, never had to imagine himself loving someone discreetly, and the thought of it makes his heart hurt prematurely. It would be simpler, he knows, to choose the path most taken.

But Steve has always thought more with his heart than his brain, and he knows that after everything they've been through, after all the time they've spent healing together and growing as one that he could never choose anyone but Eddie.

The time is coming for him to make his final decision, he can feel it, but for now he'll let them sit in this liminal space a little longer.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ meet the parents

single dad Eddie Munson x single mom Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: For my fourth and final fic of @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas, I bring you a romcom-worthy meet cute! A one-night stand in a small town is always a dangerous game.

Content: Eddie and Reader are both single parents. Modern AU. P in V and oral sex. Too many feelings for a one-night stand. Reader’s shitty ex mention. Small town dynamics. Light on Christmas, heavy on Eddie being a sexy menace. If you see any typos/messy sentences lmk!!

Just an extra little note to say the biggest THANK YOU to @littlexdeaths for putting together these wonderful Promptmas ideas, and for just being completely lovely and amazing too. I have had such a fun few weeks working on writing again, it’s been a crazy few months for me personally so this has been the best way to get back into writing and feeling creative again!! I’ve loved every minute ❤️

✨bang average festive fics✨ Eddie Munson fics ✨Dividers by @strangergraphics✨

It has been quite a few years since you woke up in a stranger’s bed. 

More used to the morning time routine of trying to get a sleepy six-year-old up and ready for the day, or the heartwarming feeling of said six-year-old making her way into your bed to cuddle on sleepy Sundays, you feel a little out of your depth this morning.

And some degree of hungover. 

But it could be worse, you supposed. The stranger’s bed was comfy and he had plenty of pillows for you to sleep on. His sheets were clean and he had not totally smothered you like a limpet all night, nor had he expected you to get up and leave while you were still catching your breath. He was a fairer bedmate than your daughter, and it was pleasant to wake up with the warm weight of his inked arm around you rather than a kid’s-size-twelve foot digging into your ribs, or her hair in your mouth. 

You sink into the comfort of it all, relishing that long-forgotten post-great-sex ache all over and the feeling of waking after a deep and dreamless sleep. You had not been this well-rested in almost seven years.

Next to you, he is asleep on his stomach with his arm across your middle. The room is dusky dark, but you can still make out the tattoos along his pale bare body and the glint of his nose ring, the spill of long dark hair piled up on his head. He is much softer now than when you met in the bar last night, no coy smirk or wolfish grin, no deep dimples on his cheeks. His whiskey eyes are still shut, and you feel warm all over when you remember how he had looked at you like you were the only woman in the bar, in the world, last night. How he had taken you home and taken you apart right here in his navy sheets. 

Carefully, trying not to wake the man next to you, you ease yourself up to check your phone.  It’s far too early to worry about picking Hazel up yet.

Not for the first time, you say a silent thanks to the universe for your neighbour for agreeing to babysit Hazel so that you could have a well-deserved Christmas night out with the friends you had made at work. You will bring her a nice hand-tied bouquet from the shop next week, just because. Without Claudia and her kindness to lean on, you know that going it alone in this small new town would so be much harder. It had been serendipitous really, moving in next door to an older and wiser woman who had been in the very same position as you when her son was not much older than Hazel. You begin piecing together the perfect bouquet for her, eucalyptus and rose and red ribbon, distracting yourself briefly from the dull ache in your head and the dry feeling on your tongue.

He brought you a glass of water before you fell asleep together. It’s cool in your throat, though it barely touches the sides of the discomfort pressing behind your brows. When the glass is mostly empty, you settle back next to him and let yourself doze for a little longer.

Eddie instinctively pulls you closer in his sleep, his warm morning breath tickling your shoulder and neck. You know it is just temporary, he is still a stranger, but let yourself enjoy the fleeting comfort while it lasts.

“Morning.”

His voice is rough and smoky, and there’s a tired smile waiting for you when you open your eyes a while later. You are struck by how pretty he is, handsome and hot but pretty with it; long dark lashes and doe-eyes, cheekbones to die for.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You feel yourself smiling back at him, feeling dreamy and oh-so-comfortable. You stretch your body out, relishing the rush of blood and oxygen to your muscles and your eyes drop closed again at that so-good feeling.

“Sleeping Beauty.” 

When Eddie kisses your hair, you miss how he closes his eyes and savours the moment; you are too busy basking in the unexpected tenderness of this one-night stand, the easiness of waking up slow with a man you met less than twelve hours ago. Even if it is just for this morning, you soak it up. 

“Mhmm. You have a comfy bed,” you whisper, looking up at him again. 

You brush your fingertips along his silver chain before tracing up to his jaw, past the tendrils of hair escaping his scrunchie. You know the feeling of that dark grown-out and nicely-maintained stubble, how it brushed and burned so good on the inside of your thighs, how it feels against your lips. 

Tentatively, bravely, you press your mouth against his and feel his smile. It’s sweet, slow. Intimate and lovely.

“Yeah? M’glad you think so,” he murmurs and steals one more kiss before pulling you against his body. 

Last night as you basked in the afterglow, Eddie asked so quietly if he could hold you and you almost teared up about it. It had been a long time since anyone had held you like that, like he is holding you again this morning.  It has been a long time since anyone has been sweet to you, shared closeness and intimacy like this. Not since the man you loved upped and left, leaving you and one-year-old Hazel with only each other to love. 

You feel the strength of his arms and the softness of his belly. There’s a stirring, hardening interest against your thigh and yet he’s not being too forward or pushy. He’s just holding you, just ‘coz. 

“I don’t… S’a while since I had a sleepover,” he admits, running his blunt nails over the small of your back. “You didn’t hog the covers, and you didn’t sneak off without saying bye…”

Eddie pulls back a little, wearing that small flirty smile that made you swoon last night. His voice is so playful, even though it is deep with morning huskiness. 

“Still here,” you whisper back, “I… It’s been a while for me too. I don’t usually… Yeah.” You shrug, you know he gets it. 

There is a glint of something in his eyes before he looks up at the ceiling. “I’m glad we did. I had fun.” 

The dimple in his cheek is beautiful and bashful, and when he looks at you again his eyes go right to your lips.

“Me too.” You touch his chain again and tug gently to bring your lips together again, putting you both out of your misery.

No one has ever kissed you like Eddie did last night, with all-consuming lust that made you feel electric. He is a blend of rough and smooth, a firm guiding hand followed by a gentle caress. You have never felt so wanted, so craved.

The way he kisses you this morning pushes aside the thoughts of all you need to do today. All you know is want, the cloying feeling of wanting to touch and be touched, craving pleasure. With his hands to guide, you straddle his lap and lean into the feeling of his fingertips wandering past the hem of the t-shirt he loaned you last night. 

Eddie looks up at you like you’re some sort of deity, his eyes and lips shining as you peel off the t-shirt and throw it behind you, leaving yourself bare in his lap. He was not put off by the stretch marks, or the Mom Body you felt so self-conscious about sometimes. Nor was he put off by the fact that you are a Mom. Eddie had simply smiled when you briefly mentioned your daughter, told you he had his own little girl without giving too much away. With that fresh layer of yourselves on show, you could understand each other just a little bit more without going full gushing-parent mode, sharing pictures of your little angels or ranting about who loved Bluey and loathed Peppa more. 

His fingers run over the stretch marks on your hips, starting up a slow grind as he kisses your neck (remembering your ‘no marks’ rule). There is a slight chill in the air to remind you that beyond this liminal bliss, it is a frosty December morning, but Eddie warms you up and distracts you without second thought. 

In the gauzy light, you see touches of fatherhood around his room, easily missed in the passion of last night - a framed drawing on his bedside table, a kiddie hair clip in his ring dish. You smile to yourself and shiver when his warm breath skates over the damp trail of kisses.

“Pretty smile,” he murmurs, needing to taste and feel it again. 

Hands wander and squeeze and you get drunk on each other all over again in the cocoon of Eddie’s bed. You blindly follow his dark treasure trail before taking him in hand, hot and diamond-hard, and savour the taste and sound of his moan. Your aching need for him is tempered and satiated by his fingers and you flush hot all over when he encourages you to scoot up and let him taste you, almost begging for it. Dazed with want, you find yourself clinging to the headboard with white knuckles and his name spilling from your lips. 

Eddie could die a happy man with your thighs bracketing his head. The taste of you makes him feel drunk as you take your pleasure from him; the needy roll of your hips is encouraged by his greedy hands in contrast to how cautious and careful you had been not to trap and tug his hair beneath your knees. 

When you are sufficiently dumb with pleasure, he lays you back against the pillows and lays out his desire for you in between messy kisses, losing his train of thought when you get your hand back on him and whisper back your need for him to fuck you now. Eddie reaches blindly for the (blessedly still-in-date) box of foil-wrapped packets in his drawer, not wanting to look away from you for even a moment.

He holds your hand as he makes love to you and you have to remind yourself not to get too caught up in how sweet Eddie is, even when he his making you feel like you have never been so full; sweetness and filthy words wound together so sweetly. It’s overwhelming and he catches you fighting tears when you feel too good. 

“Hey,” he whispers, wearing too much worry between his brows. “Do you want to stop, sweetheart? Am I hurting you?”

A guy being decent should not make your heart swell like this, and yet it does. You shake your head, tears spill over and he brushes them away with care.

“No, no. You’re not hurting me,” you promise. “I feel really good. S’just a lot.” 

Your voice wobbles and he smiles fondly against your mouth, relieved and happy to be wanted in return. 

Eddie has this magnetism, warm and cloying and a little mysterious; it makes you feel comfortable even when he’s teasing you and making you flush hot all over. 

“Yeah, baby? That’s what I’m here for,” he whispers, and kisses you slowly, sweetly. “Let me make you feel good.” You feel like your heart could beat out of your chest. He can feel it hammering against him as he starts up a slow roll of his hips that fills you completely. 

Your fingers clutch at the sheets as Eddie fucks you into his mattress. Nothing else matters in those moments, only pleasure. You fight the urge to sink your teeth into the meat and muscle of his arm, lick the drip of sweat from his neck. Instead, you taste the way he moans your name and cling to him when you come just moments apart - you first, then him.

He shares his water with you afterwards when he sees your empty glass; you are both damp with sweat and lying side by side with your heartbeats pounding in your ears, the lingering taste of each other on your tongues.

When he kisses you again, his lips are water-cooled and tender.

“Can I make you some coffee? I have to pick up my little terror in a bit…” he says, already cringing at himself. “She’s great, I swear. I promised her diner pancakes for brunch.”

Reality trickles back in, a not-unpleasant cooling off of your morning together.

“Yeah, I should probably not show up in last night’s clothes to pick my kid up. Coffee sounds good.” 

There was always an expiry date on this; the boundaries of a one-night stand were set and familiar, despite how long it has been and despite how easy and intimate this morning has been. You’re both adults, both okay with it. 

“Cool.” He smiles and hauls himself out of bed, stepping into his lost and found again boxers before he doubles back to kiss your cheek. 

When your legs are steady enough he shows you how the shower works, leaving you to it with a new toothbrush, fresh towels and a familiar squeeze to your bare hip. There’s a little part of you that wants him to join you, waste hot water and let him press you against the cold tiles. Eddie wants that too, to delay your inevitable parting of ways and return to reality.

When you look in the mirror, you see a well-fucked woman; kiss-bitten lips and that long-lost post-sex glow. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur to yourself, giggling a little when you think over the last twelve hours. 

You had not gone out looking for a hookup last night, but you made the most of the festive excuse to go for drinks with the few friends you had made since moving to Hawkins six months ago. Catching Eddie’s eye at the bar had been a happy accident. A happy accident that lead to letting him buy you a drink, and then buying him one back. Your friends had wholeheartedly encouraged it, knew him to see around town and vouched for him as a mechanic. Good with his hands, they had teased. Oh, how right they had been.

The water is hot and Eddie’s shower gel is the typical ‘for men’ scented sort of thing. You feel fresh and clean when you step back into the bedroom, finding sweats and an Iron Maiden hoodie on the bed for you, alongside your clothes from last night (which Eddie has attempted to fold neatly, instead of leaving you to pick them up from the floor).

It should not make you smile so much, but your cheeks ache pleasantly as you dress yourself, opting for last night’s jeans with Eddie’s sweater. It’s washed-soft and smells like the detergent you have at home with a hint of his cologne.

You follow the scent of coffee and the sound of music downstairs, finding more traces of parenthood on your way - a purple fairy door on the baseboard,  a washing basket full of clean kids' clothes outside a closed bedroom door, light-up Skechers and silver glitter rain boots in the hall. There is something familiar about them, but brush it aside as something Hazel probably asked for in Target.

Eddie’s unbuttoned jeans hang low on his hips as he makes coffee in mismatched mugs, his hair is down tickling against his bare shoulders and back. There are drawings on the fridge and a Christmas tree peeking out from the living room. It feels like a happy home.

His eyes light up when he sees you, looking as hungry and enamoured by you in his hoodie as he had been when you were wearing nothing at all. 

“Do you take sugar, or are you sweet enough?” he asks, wearing a softer version of that panty-dropper smile from last night. He smells clean, minty and masculine, after a quick whore’s bath in the other bathroom.

“Just one,” you say, resting your hip against the kitchen island while you watch him fix up your coffee. “You’re smooth, huh?”

“You tell me.” He slides the mug across to you before blowing on his coffee, taking a still-too-hot sip that he tries and fails to cover. For a moment, you think he might be doing a bit, alas he is simply endearingly clumsy.

You feel bad laughing, but Eddie only pouts a little bit before grinning at you. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks and he ducks his head to hide behind his hair. 

“Real smooth.” 

Exercising patience, you decide to let your coffee cool a little.

“I’ll give you a ride home if you like?” he says, hoping it’s not too forward. 

He wants to be more forward, ask for your number and ask you out. He likes how his clothes fit your body, and how you looked blissed-out in his bed. While Eddie’s trying not to come off too strong, you appreciate his sweetness and fight your own internal battle of trying not to fall for your one-night stand.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Eddie. I’m over on Cornwallis, is that out of your way?”

He smiles a little, “I don’t mind a little detour, sweetheart.”

You pointedly blow on your coffee, learning from his mistake, and savour the made-just-right coffee in a Snoopy & Woodstock mug.

Over his shoulder, you spot a photo of a familiar man on the fridge, bookended by two heads of dark curly hair. There’s a handpainted fridge magnet with ‘Fae’ written in childishly charming pink writing, and you feel your cheeks flame.

He watches your face change, looks over his shoulder to see what you’re looking at. 

“Ah. That’s my Uncle Wayne, and Fae. My daughter. she’s six.” He unpins the picture and thumbs over it gently before turning it around to you.

You know exactly who they are, but take it anyway.

When you moved your life to Hawkins, Indiana six months ago, you would never have believed that you would make friends with a grandfather in his sixties outside of Curtain Call Dance Studio while you waited for Hazel. Making friends as a single Mom in a new town was not easy, you had little time outside of work and parenting for yourself, let alone socialising (and god forbid, dating). And then you parked next to Wayne one Thursday. He was a little quiet but had warmed up more each week; now he smiled when he saw you, asked how your job at the florists was and how Hazel was doing in school.

Even though they were in different First Grade class groups at Hawkins Elementary, Hazel and Fae had become almost inseparable in their dance classes and on the playground. 

You knew Fae’s dad worked late some evenings, so Wayne helped him out. Hazel had told you that she had seen Fae’s dad once when he picked her up early to go to the dentist, and that he had hair just like her friend.

“She looks just like me, it’s crazy - poor kid. I can’t believe she’s six. She’s supposed to be three, max. Y’know what I mean?” He says, showing you more of his proud Dad side before realising that your confusion is not because you’re looking at a picture of two clones. “You okay?”

“You’re Fae’s Dad? Fae Munson?” you ask, watching his shoulders tense a little as he nods. “Eddie. Our kids know each other. I’ve met Wayne.” 

He scowls slightly beneath his bangs, confused and a little worried that he hooked up with the mother of one of the kids who was mean to Fae in school, who told the teacher when she was ‘too chatty’ or when she stood up for herself.

The words spill from you untempered, unrestrained to clear it all up. “They’re at dance class together. They’re in the same grade. Hazel and Fae are friends, Eddie…”

He visibly softens, drops his shoulders, and even though he still looks confused he melts even more when an involuntary nervous laugh bubbles from your chest. 

“Seriously? No… You’re Hazel’s mom?” His eyes blow wide. “Fuck.” 

Eddie puts his head on the counter with a thunk, and you’re left with the photo of three smiling Munsons. Fae has her Dad’s eyes and hair, his impish mischief that had endeared you to the little girl. They really are alike.

“Wayne was right,” he says, muffled beneath his hair before peeking at you, “You are cute.” 

It makes you laugh more, though your cheeks feel like the surface of the sun.

“Wayne thinks I’m cute? Huh…”

“No. Nope,” he yelps, head flying up like a wild thing. “Oh my goddd.”

You feel a little spacey as the pieces fall into place. Wayne’s nephew Ed worked at Thatcher Tyre as a mechanic, and Fae had told Hazel her Dad looked like a rockstar. She wasn’t wrong…

“He was totally going to try and set us up or somethin’.”

“He did say I’d finally get to meet you at the Winter Performance…” you say, feeling fizzy-all-over as you come to terms with the shock of it all. “Guess we bet him to it.”

“Told me you were real sweet too.” Eddie smiles, his cheeks are pinker than ever.

Part of your brain berates you for hooking up with a stranger in a small town - a small town where everyone knows everyone else. But when Eddie reaches his hand out across the island and says, “Good to finally meet you, Hazel’s Mom,” with that flirty smile and his whiskey eyes, it melts away and you’re not really that sorry at all.

You take his hand, mug-warmed and adorned with silver rings. 

“Nice to meet you at last, Fae’s Dad.”

Neither of you is too embarrassed by the revelation, though you both circle back to how fucking crazy it is at least twice. Even though you still feel gooey-warm under his attention, you don’t want anything to get in the way of your daughter’s friendship, of your new start in Hawkins, and feel selfish for wanting more than the taste you have already had of Eddie Munson. You both know your time together is drawing to an end, the bubble is about to burst, and a little part of you wishes that the illusion of being strangers could have lasted a little longer. 

With your coffee consumed and your coats and boots on, Eddie takes your hand and pulls you against his body before you step outside of the door together. 

“Hey, gorgeous. One more kiss?” he asks, head tilted to the side. 

You don’t need to think about it, and take his stubbled jaw with both hands as he holds your hips. Kissing him makes all the tension roll away once more, and you hope it is enough to help him remember you as more than just some other Mom in the First Grade Parents Group Chat (which you both have muted). You have to savour it, remember his taste and touch.

Eddie is not shy about kissing you, he slides his tongue against yours and moans ever so quietly when you push your chest against his. He is also the one to slow it down, makes it sweet and tender and you would dare say romantic, even with his hands on your ass. 

“Can I ask for one more thing?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours. 

Right now, you would consider giving him a kidney or a blow job if he asked nicely. 

“Mhm,” you whisper, giving nothing away just yet. 

“Can I get your number? I wanna take you out properly,” he says, his thumbs play with the belt loop at the back of your jeans. “Like a date.”

Feeling hot all over, you try to play it cool and not nod so eagerly lest you headbutt him and leave him bloody-nosed. 

“Yeah. That would be nice, Eddie.” 

He watches how your teeth sink into your lip and has to kiss you once more, just because. You take his phone and add your number and name, adding a little sparkle emoji before deleting it. Then you add it again and hand it back before you can change your mind.

“Cool. And, um maybe the girls could have a play date sometime? I was gonna ask for your number anyway, so y’know. Two birds, one stone and all that. Silver linings?” Eddie does a jazz-hand-flourish thing before he shakes his head at himself and tucks his phone away. “I had a good time with you. A great time. And I know what you might be thinking, I don’t want this to get between the girls either. But I’d love to see you again.”

You are even more endeared by these glimpses of how sensible he is as well as his goofy awkwardness beneath the leather jacket and bad boy stare.

He is as gentlemanly as he had been last night, opening doors for you, though he is less handsy in the bright morning light (he does give your knee a squeeze at the stoplight). You feel safe with him as he navigates the frosty roads of Hawkins, talking about music, what concerts you had been to before becoming parents, and where to get the sparkly tutus for the Winter Performance. 

All too soon he pulls up outside your house, spotting the red door with the handmade wreath that you had described.

“Next to Henderson’s?” he asks, brow raised.

“Yep. Do you know Claudia, or is this town just too small?”

He laughs, tilts his head against the headrest. “It’s way too small. Her son, Dustin? One of my best friends.” 

You tip your head forward, smiling even as your head shakes. “I’ve heard so much about Dustin. We’re having Christmas dinner with them.”

Eddie's dimpled cheeks crease even more. “Damn. Well, I can’t wait to hear why you picked Hawkins of all places to move to. You can tell me on our date.”

Proud of how that flusters you, he presses a kiss to your hand and winks, “I’ll text you later, sweetheart.”

You want to kiss him again, but you manage to restrain yourself, remembering the nosy neighbours on Cornwallis. Instead, you let the flickering fire inside you flirt back, hoping to fluster him too.

You place your hand high on his thigh and squeeze. “You better, Eddie. Drive safe.”

You can feel him checking you out all over again, the weight and warmth of his gaze, as you make your way up the path to your door. Once your key is in the lock, you part ways with a wave and a wink, lingering just a moment more to watch his car peel away from the curb. 

Left with a fluttering feeling in your tummy and warm cheeks that ache from smiling, you take a moment for yourself in your hallway. 

It is time to go back to being Hazel’s mom. You can’t wait to hear about her sleepover with Ms. Claudia and the cats, bask in her brilliance and take every hug and smooch she will offer you (or let you take for yourself). Inspired by Eddie and Fae’s breakfast date, you think of taking your girl to the diner for dinner later on, maybe watching a Christmas movie before bed. 

In the mirror above your sideboard, hanging above the key dish and the thrifted lamp and a photo of you and Hazel in matching sunglasses, you catch sight of your smiling reflection once more, enveloped in a dreamy daze and borrowed hoodie. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and your smile becomes bigger, brighter, brimming with hope. 

What did you think? Do we want more of these two? 👀 Thank you so very very much for reading! Your comments, reblogs and likes are incredibly appreciated and adored!

Whether you're celebrating or not, I am wishing you the cosiest and most wonderful holiday season filled with peace and love and every good thing you deserve ✨

[vanagold]

The fact that Anya went to medical school so many times so she has probably studied the symptoms of pregnancy which means she probably knew she was pregnant in the first couple of weeks and then that pulled the last string for her to realize her suspicions of Jimmy raping her was right, I don't think she knew Jimmy raped her because I think she was drugged. Jimmy knows how to make a spiked cocktail and knew that Swansea would not die and just be passed out and "forget everything once he wakes up". That seems really suspicious, and definitely persecutes the idea of Jimmy drugging Anya and raping her while she's unconscious/sleeping in her sleeping quarter. Which is also why she asks curly, "Why do you think Pony Express put a lock on the medical bay but not on the sleeping quarters?" She was trying to hint to Curly what was happening to her because she had her suspicions but didn't have full fledged evidence to show. Her knowing she was pregnant fully cleared her suspicions of her being raped multiple times at night in her bed and hear me out but; I'm pretty sure she had a few miscarriages, think about it, she was stressed in a spaceship with her abuser, only men, and in the vast emptiness of space. Heavy amounts of stress causes miscarriages in women so she might've been pregnant multiple times but had miscarriages, until she didn't, until she actually had a fetus growing inside of her. She's a nurse, and I think she know's about abortions but she's in the emptiness of space, a ship full of men, and her abuser which if he founds out about this child who knows what Jimmy might do. (Crashes the ship) She had no one to go to and performing an abortion on herself is vastly dangerous and just puts her and the child at risk. If she were to give birth on the ship it would be horrible for the child and her. The child wouldn't have basic necessities for their survival so that's an automatic no-go for labor, plus Jimmy being the father and knowing he has power to the ship is just way too much for the child and Anya. Her killing herself with pills gave her one last freedom of choice to make it out of this hell and free her baby and herself.

take care of it

[mcrdvcks]

what are hands for?

chapter summary: After an offhand comment from your father shakes your confidence, you find yourself spiraling into self-doubt.

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm not even gonna lie, this is extremely self-indulgent. i've barely been home for a week and my dad's already called me fat once and it definitely won't be the last time

anyways, i basically wrote this for myself but i thought i'd share it because i know for some people, being home for the holidays is rough! and the only thing i need is for logan to tell me he loves me and everything would be perfect

warnings/tags: insecure!reader, reader has a brother, skipping meals, implied that reader has received rude comments from family before, reader describes herself as 5'7" and over 200 lbs one time (like i said, self-indulgent), curvy!reader, angst, fluff

You have always had mixed feelings about going to your parents’ house for the holidays, or even during your breaks during college. You loved home, it was where you grew up so naturally you were supposed to love it.

But you also hated it. Hated the comments, the looks, the yelling—all of it.

And somehow here you were, standing in your parent’s quaint house, your younger brother and his girlfriend already in the dining room helping your mom with dinner while your dad greeted you and Logan.

"Hey, kiddo," your dad said, pulling you into a quick, half-hearted hug before turning to Logan with a small smile. "Logan. Good to see you again."

Logan gave a polite nod. "Good to see you too, sir."

Your dad’s gaze flicked between the two of you for a moment before gesturing toward the dining room. "Everyone’s in there. Why don’t you join them? Dinner’s almost ready."

Logan looked at you briefly, a silent check-in, before heading off. "I’ll go see if they need help," he murmured, squeezing your hand lightly as he passed.

The air shifted the second Logan stepped out of earshot. Your dad turned back to you, giving you a once-over that was a little too long for comfort.

"You’ve put on a little weight, haven’t you?" he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just landed a verbal punch to your gut. "Must be all that mansion food."

Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to respond—what, you weren’t sure—but he didn’t wait for an answer. He just patted your shoulder like it was nothing, muttered something about checking on the turkey, and walked off, leaving you standing there alone.

In the back of your mind, you knew you should’ve put on a different shirt, this one was just a tad bit too tight. But it was one of Logan’s favorite’s, so you didn’t pay too much attention to it.

You pulled on your blouse a few times, trying to get it to not stick to your stomach before walking into the dining room like you always did when you were younger, with a fake smile.

---

You huffed, yanking the seventh shirt over your head and tossing it onto the growing pile on the bed. Nothing looked right—nothing felt right. Every shirt clung too much, hung awkwardly, or just didn’t sit right. And with each outfit failure, the voice in your head grew louder, echoing your dad’s casual remark.

You tugged at the hem of your tank top, staring at your reflection in the mirror with narrowed eyes. “Stupid,” you muttered, turning to the side to inspect your profile. “It’s just a shirt. It’s fine.” But it didn’t feel fine.

After another long minute, you grabbed a loose hoodie from the closet and pulled it on, letting it drown you. It wasn’t what you’d planned to wear, but at least it hid everything you didn’t want to see.

You made your way downstairs to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before your class. On the counter were a box of donuts, and without thinking you grabbed the two you normally did in a napkin and made your way out.

But not before pausing at the doorway, a bite already taken out of one donut as you looked down at the food in your hand. You took another bite and threw both away, making your way to your classroom before the kids got there.

You got to the classroom a good twenty minutes early, dropping your bag onto the desk with a sigh. The hoodie you’d thrown on still felt too heavy, too obvious, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. The two bites of the donut you’d managed to eat sat like a stone in your stomach.

You busied yourself setting up for the day, pulling worksheets out of your bag and lining them up on the desk. It wasn’t much, but focusing on something, anything, kept your mind from wandering too far down the spiral. The kids would be filing in soon, their chatter filling the space, and that would make it easier. It always did.

But for now, the silence was suffocating.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe, and you looked up, expecting one of the students. Instead, it was Ororo. She leaned casually against the frame, a warm, curious smile on her face.

“Morning, Y/N,” she greeted, stepping into the room. “You’re here early. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you shuffled a few papers around unnecessarily. “Yeah, just… wanted to get a head start. You know how Mondays are.”

Ororo tilted her head, clearly unconvinced but kind enough not to push. “If you say so,” she said, her tone light but probing. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a second on the oversized hoodie before she caught herself. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, ‘Ro.” You gave her another tight-lipped smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.

She hesitated for a beat before nodding and stepping back into the hallway. As soon as she was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

The classroom slowly came to life as the students trickled in, their energy filling the room and pushing your thoughts to the background. By the time the lesson was underway, you were almost able to pretend nothing was wrong. Almost.

It wasn’t until later that day, during lunch, that it all came rushing back. The teachers’ lounge was unusually crowded, laughter and conversations bouncing off the walls. You slipped in quietly, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the counter before finding a corner to sit in.

From across the room, Logan caught your eye. He was leaning back in one of the chairs, arms crossed, but the second he saw you, his expression softened. He gave you a small nod—his way of checking in. You nodded back, offering a faint smile.

You didn’t miss the way his brow furrowed slightly, though, or the way his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before he turned back to his conversation with Scott. It wasn’t like Logan to hover or push, but you knew he noticed things. And he never let them go.

---

After classes you went into the kitchen to put your mug in the sink from hours ago. Out of habit, you grabbed a few cookies Ororo had made yesterday before stopping yourself.

You stared at the cookies in your hand, your frown deepening as your dad’s words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Your stomach churned, and for a moment, you felt like throwing the cookies straight into the trash.

“What’d those cookies ever do to you, darlin’?” Logan’s voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze wasn’t accusing, just… observant.

You hesitated, gripping the cookies tighter. “Nothing,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just… wasn’t really hungry.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, pushing off the doorframe to step into the kitchen. “Didn’t seem like you were thinkin’ about that a second ago,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “Something on your mind?”

You shook your head quickly, putting the cookies back on the plate. “Nope. Just tired. Long day.”

He didn’t look convinced. Logan had a way of reading you like an open book, and you hated it sometimes. Hated how hard it was to hide from him, even when you wanted to.

“Darlin’…” His voice was softer now, his hand reaching out to brush yours. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “It’s nothing, Logan. Seriously.”

He stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “Y/N, you know I don’t buy that. You’ve been off since we got back from your folks’ place.” His voice was low, steady. “Talk to me.”

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. The last thing you wanted was to unload all this on him. But the look in his eyes—genuine, steady, patient—made it impossible to deflect.

“It’s just… something my dad said,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “What’d he say?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

“Y/N.” His tone was firm, but not unkind. “What’d he say?”

You exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze. “He… made a comment about my weight,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up. “Said I’ve been eating too much mansion food.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together. “He said that?” His voice was low, dangerous. You nodded, still not looking at him. “That’s bullshit,” he muttered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“It’s not—he didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to defend weakly, though you weren’t sure why. “It’s just how he is. And, it’s not like he’s wrong either, I could lose some weight. I’m 5’7” and over 200 pounds, and sometimes my old pants don’t even go over my thighs or hips. And—”

Logan held up a hand, cutting you off gently but firmly. “Alright, stop. Just stop.” His voice was low, steady, but there was a protective edge to it. “First off, I don’t give a damn what your old pants fit like. And second, your dad? He’s got no right to talk to you like that. None.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Logan stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Nope. Not hearin’ it, Y/N. You’re sittin’ here pickin’ yourself apart ‘cause of some stupid thing he said, and that’s not fair. Not to you.”

“But he’s not wrong,” you muttered, looking away. “I mean, look at me. I’m—”

“Perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “You’re perfect. And I don’t wanna hear you say otherwise.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who just says things?” Logan shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Princess, I’m the last person to sugarcoat anything.”

You hesitated, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Logan sighed, stepping closer and resting his hands lightly on your hips. “Y/N, you’re strong. You’re smart. And yeah, you’ve got curves—and I happen to like ‘em. A lot.”

Your face heated at his words, but Logan wasn’t done. He gave your hips a gentle squeeze, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You think I’d be standin’ here, chasin’ after you, if I didn’t think you were incredible? Come on now.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments, Logan,” you said quietly, still not quite meeting his eyes.

“I know you’re not,” he replied. “But I’m givin’ ‘em anyway, ‘cause you need to hear it. And because it’s the damn truth.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, despite yourself. Logan grinned, clearly pleased to have gotten a reaction out of you. “There’s that smile,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Missed that.”

The knot in your chest loosened just a bit, and you let out a shaky sigh. “Thanks, Logan,” you murmured. “I just… I don’t feel like myself sometimes, you know?”

“I get it,” Logan said, his voice softer now. “We all got our crap to deal with. But you don’t gotta deal with it alone. Not when I’m here.”

You gave him a small nod, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. Logan’s smirk returned, and his hands slid from your hips to the curve of your thighs, his fingers grazing lightly. “Besides,” he said, his tone turning teasing, “you know what these thighs are for, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He grinned, his hands squeezing gently before lifting you up. “For my hands. Nothin’ else they need to do, far as I’m concerned.”

You yelped in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Logan! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Not until you stop talkin’ nonsense about yourself.”

You glared at him, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed your indignation. “I’m serious, Logan. I’m not exactly lightweight—”

“Good thing I’m not exactly weak,” he interrupted smoothly, his grin widening. “You think a couple extra pounds are gonna make me break a sweat? Sweetheart, I’ve fought Sentinels and lived to tell the tale. Trust me, I got this.”

You groaned, your hands tightening on his shoulders as he adjusted his grip, holding you securely. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinkin’ you’re anything less than perfect,” Logan countered, his tone softening just a bit. “Now, you gonna stop beatin’ yourself up, or am I gonna have to carry you around all day until you do?”

“Logan, we’re in the kitchen,” you hissed, glancing toward the doorway. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let ‘em,” he said with a shrug. “Not like they don’t already know you’re my girl.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “Besides, anyone’s got a problem with me lovin’ on you? They can take it up with me.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, setting you down gently but keeping his hands on your hips. “Now, what do you say we grab those cookies and actually enjoy ‘em? ‘Ro made ‘em for us, after all.”

Your gaze flicked to the plate of cookies, and for a moment, doubt crept back in. But Logan’s steady hands on your hips and the unwavering warmth in his eyes grounded you. “Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s eat the cookies.”

“That’s my girl,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reaching for the plate. He handed you one, grabbing one for himself, and took a big bite, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Damn, these are good. Think she’d notice if we finished the whole plate?”

You laughed, the sound lighter than it had felt all day. “Pretty sure she’d kill us.”

“Worth it,” he said with a smirk, taking another bite.

You rolled your eyes but bit into your cookie, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue. For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest eased just a little.

And when Logan leaned in to steal a crumb from the corner of your mouth, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to protest.

[moonstonejpg]

support

k. bakugo x reader

where bakugo has a crush on a girl in the support course

w.c: 1,707

tags: pure fluff, kiri and denki being the best wingmen in the world, oh also ua is a college not a high school bc i said so

bakugo is my comfort character i love him sm and want to protect him at all costs ♡

If he didn’t know any better, he would think the sudden pounding of his heart meant it was acting up again like it did occasionally after Edgeshot revived him, because Katsuki Bakugo didn’t have crushes. And despite it being a natural part of life, it freaks him out a lot more than he’d care to admit. Because Bakugo has always had the same plan, get into UA College and become a top ranked hero; nowhere in his plan did he account for the girl with a heart of gold in the support course.

“Katsuki!” You call, arms full of some unknown material as you jogged towards him. You had a bright smile on your face, and your eyes were lit up with excitement. He couldn’t help the fond smile spreading across his lips as he gazed down at where you skidded to a stop in front of him.

“I did it! Here—hold this please.” You shove the item in your arms towards him, hands animatedly waving towards the different places on as you explain. It took a few moments for Bakugo’s mind to catch up to what was happening in front of him, but once it did his gaze snapped up to meet your eyes in shock.

“—and so, basically, you put this on under your hero suit and it absorbs the shockwaves from your blasts, turning it back into itself to heat your muscles.”

He blinks, his thoughts spinning to the conversation from last week when you had caught him sitting on the rooftop of the college. Instead of leaving, you plopped down next to him, starting a conversation after a few hesitant moments.

“I know you love your quirk, and honestly I do too!” you giggle, a light blush dusting your cheeks. “But if there was something you could change—or well, something to help, what would it be?”

He cocks his head to the side, mulling over your question; he wants to give you a good answer, an honest answer. So, he dips into the vat of his insecurities, unearthing a small secret he’s never shared with anyone.

“I—when I use it too much my arms and shoulders start to ache, and even if I pause to conserve my energy it seems to just leak out and then…eventually both body parts end up going numb. It’s been happening more frequently now that we are training longer, and it—it sucks to be quite honest.”

You pull your knees up to your chest, eyes fixed on a distance point on the horizon. He glances sideways at you, noticing the indent between your eyebrows. Your tongue pokes out, and he realizes this is your thinking face. He’s amazed that he can see the wheels turning, and wonders what’s going on in your brain.

It’s silent for a few moments, before you jump up, an excited gleam in your eye. You start to leave, pausing to turn back to him, your face now serious. “I won’t tell anyone; your secret is safe with me.”

He nods once, and the seriousness evaporates as you smile at him, then disappear down the stairs.

“Was…is this okay?” You ask suddenly, the excitement in your eyes dimming slightly as he stared dumbly at you, not a single word leaving his lips since you handed over the gadget. “I—I just thought that—I can take it back!”

“No, I—"

“It’s okay! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. I had just thought…well, either way it doesn’t matter.” You reach your hands out to take the thin fabric back, but he holds it above your head, forcing you to stop and look at him in surprise.

“I love it, you just—you surprised me is all.” He mumbles, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “I wish I could do something to thank you, something other than just standing here looking like a fool.”

“I don’t need anything from you, really! It’s, well, it’s a gift.” You reply quietly, twisting your hands together then shoving them back behind your back. There’s a light pink stain on the apples of your cheeks, and Bakugo gets the alarming urge to kiss you. Instead, he fists the cloth in his hands and lowers his arms, cradling the material to his chest.

“Thank you.” He whispers, still in shock that someone would do something like this for him.

You nod once, a soft smile on your face as you turn and leave the hallway, his eyes not leaving your back until you’re just a speck at the end of the corridor.   

Hours later he’s still thinking of the exchange; feeling incredibly stupid for not asking for your number at the very least. He’s supposed to be helping Kirishima and Kaminari study for their exam in the library, but how could he possibly do that when all he wants to do is replay your smile over again on a never-ending loop.  

“Bakugo? Hey, Katsuki!”

Fingers are suddenly snapping in front of his face, effectively ripping him from his thoughts. “What?” He grumbles out, smacking Kirishima’s hand away from his face.

“What’s up with you lately, dude?” Kaminari asks, raising an eyebrow.

Bakugo doesn’t respond, distracted by the familiar girl at the far end of the rows of books.  

Kirishima throws his elbow into Kaminari’s side, rolling his eyes at the huff of indignation the blonde lets out. He tilts his chin up to the other end of the room, and that’s when they notice Bakugo’s eyes locked on to where you’re seated, book in hand.  

They watch, transfixed as a slow smile stretches across the blonde’s face, his chin nearly dropping in his upturned hand to watch you.

“Oh. Oh my god.” And suddenly everything makes sense to the pair. Kirishima and Denki lock eyes, secretive smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“She’s really pretty.” Kaminari muses, shutting his textbook and leaning back in his chair.

“Mm.” Katsuki grunts, only half paying attention.

“And way smarter than you.” Kirishima says, eyes locked on his friend.  

“Wait, what?” Bakugo asks, attention snapping back to his friends.

“So the day has finally come…our blasty boy has officially grown up.” Kirishima pretends to wipe non-existent tears, sniffing a little.

“What are you two idiots talking about?” Bakugo asks gruffly, flipping a page in his textbook.

“Oh nothing, just—"

“When’s the wedding?” Kaminari asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Again, what are you even talking about?”

“You have a crush!” Kaminari coos.

“I mean, I would like to crush your heads together.” Bakugo mumbles, but they can’t miss the way his cheeks turn pink. He avoids all eye contact, choosing instead to pretend to read the page in front of him. “She ah.” He clears his throat, “She made me this material to go under my hero suit, something about the shockwaves from my explosions being fed back into the material to…well, anyway, she brought it for me today. And I should have asked for her number, but…” He trails off, the unspoken words hanging in the air.  

I’m scared.

Kirishima puts a steady hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, knowing the fear his friend feels is more than warranted. Bakugo is silent for a few moments. And then, “I have all of these hard edges, and I don’t know how to be soft.”

“You don’t need to be soft; you need to be yourself.” Kaminari whispers, smiling at him. “And something tells me she probably feels the same way about you.”

Kirishima and Kaminari lock eyes again before standing and calling your name. Bakugo watches in abject horror as they approach you, his knee bouncing faster as they speak, the distance too great to listen to what exactly was being said. His eyes flit across the trio, panicking slightly.

He knew deep down that his friends just wanted him to be happy, but at this moment he wanted nothing more than to leap across the room and strangle them both. Bakugo briefly considers blowing the entire room up but decided against it at the thought of another bill being sent to his parents.

He watches as you put your book face down, eyes moving between his friends. They say something, then you frown before responding. The exchange feels like hours but is only a few minutes before you stand. You look over, locking eyes with Bakugo, then begin to make your way over to him.

He catches both Kaminari and Kirishima shooting him a thumbs up, before scuttling out of the library, leaving their books and backpacks behind where Bakugo sits. He scrambles out of his chair, choosing instead to lean a hip against the edge of the table as you approach.

“Hi.” He whispers, reaching a hand back to scratch his neck.

“Hi.” You reply, pressing your hands together before twisting them together again. He recognizes the movement from hours before, cataloguing the nervous habit in the file in his brain under your name. “They said you had something to tell me?”

“I—you make my chest feel weird.”

“Um, what?” You squeak out.

“No! No, I mean—god, I’m fucking this all up.” He heaves out a sigh, looking up at the ceiling before locking eyes with you. “I appreciate your gift, more than you know. And I like how smart you are, and that I can see the wheels turning in your head when you’re thinking really hard. I like how you aren’t afraid to talk to me, and I haven’t…I’ve never felt like this about another person before. You haven’t left my mind since the day I met you, and I-I like you, a lot.”

Your jaw drops slightly, eyes flickering back and forth across his face. He swallows, taking a step towards you before hesitantly reaching to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Can I take you on a date?” He asks quietly, swallowing nervously.

You blink before a smile splits your face, and you nod. He smiles back, and before you lose courage, you push up on the tips of your toes to press a soft kiss on his cheek, giggling when you pull away and see the now bright red color flooding his cheeks.

“I like you too, Blasty.”  

[jollyreginaldrancher]

The newspaper was a prop in the show... it's accurate. I don't have time to do a complete timeline right now but from what I recall they crashed. Three days later they found the lake according to Jackie. They jumped in cause they were sweating and gross and dehydrated but they were already complaining about the cold. Jackie walked in and immediately swore "Fuck, it's freezing". If you look at the sky it was cloudy and the lighting was cold and all washed out. Then Blood Hive, Jackie's complaining about the cold again, sees Lottie in the water, asks if she's cold, the sky is cloudy, etc.

They establish that it's late Autumn/early Winter really early on in the season is basically what I'm trying to say. Like, look at this, does this look like Spring/Summer weather?

A day or two after they find the cabin they held the shooting trial. They were out of food and the cabin food wasn't viable so we're left to assume they ran out of the airplane snacks. Then they hunted that deer and there was talk about it lasting them a few weeks. By episode 6 the land stopped producing fruits and nuts and when they did Doomcoming they were resorting to eating maggots they dug up off the ground and had resigned themselves to the fact they were going to starve to death (ergo the doomcoming moniker).

Another indicator was the Deer Lottie saw in episode 6 with the bloody horns. That deer was rutting, which is what they do in the winter months, usually from January on, after rutting season, but due to malnutrition and disease, and other factors may be earlier, like in November or December, which alligns with my theory. The deer they caught was shedding and it was diseased and full of maggots after all, and food was sparse, made even sparser by the yellowjackets and their hunting and foraging in the local area, which may contribute to an earlier shed.

Jackie had been giving up food to Shauna from that episode too. Van cracked a joke about it being beaver season which I know is just a joke but beaver season does actually fall in fall and winter, so it's ironically accurate with my theory. Taissa says in the next episode that the one animal they've seen in weeks is a dead sick deer, so presumably it's been a few weeks since they caught the live one. Misty proposes the animals migrated, which again makes sense in fall/Winter. And Taissa has her "[soon] it's gonna be dying-feels-like-falling-asleep cold" speech. All indicators that it's fall.

As for the baby/pregnancy, there's many possible causes for a distended stomach, and many a unicef commercial featuring starving people, even children, with distended stomachs. Her pregnancy is not a good metric for time because we don't really know the date of conception. We know though that Shauna had sex with Jeff more than once, we're just assuming that she only got pregnant the last time she fucked him, and not at any other point.

We know after Jackie died, it took two months for her to be consumed, and we know that Shauna seems to have given birth during the winter. What we don't know is anything about her gestation (like I mentioned earlier, she could have gotten pregnant way earlier) OR the birth. We assume she gave birth to a fully formed fetus, but we never saw it. For all we know she could have miscarried 3-4 months into the pregnancy. We never saw the baby so we really have no way of knowing, and the girls could have easily lost track of time and assumed it was coming soon, or she may have revealed she got pregnant earlier offscreen, or Misty could have deduced she was further along, or that winter could have been particularly long. They lived near mountains after all. It wouldn't be implausible for winter to last a month or two longer.

Either way, the pregnancy doesn't really prove much. It's way too vague a timeframe and we have too little information on it. Like if we knew exactly when Shauna and Jeff started to have sex, then maybe we'd have a timeframe for her potential inception date, but we don't really get that in the show so it's pretty impossible. All we know for sure is that had a miscarriage or stillbirth. We don't know anything about the baby realistically though, aside from the gender, which means it was definitely over something like 9-11 weeks in utero.

I did google it briefly though and it seems Winter in the Canadian Rockies (Where they reportedly crashed) lasts from November to April, but can be covered in Snow up til May, with the coldest month being January, so it's entirely possible for her to carry the baby til January, where it seemed the coldest and they got that snow storm, or even April, having gotten impregnated in November, and for her to deliver in January-April a 3-6 month fetus that was too young to make it.

I don't have time to really delve into this, but it still very much looks like they crashed in November.

five months jackie lived out there. five months she lived and breath. and they said that she died the day the plane crashed. jackie taylor has an empty grave inscribed with the wrong date.

[starburstminibot]

Ok, seeing the post about the playlist, you mentioned how Breakdown only gets his act together after finding out that Bee was carrying

So it got me thinking (and this has actually been in my mind since i first came across the au tbh), but how was it while Bee was like, carrying?? There's the fact that, at first, many of the bots probably don't like Breakdown too since, well, he was not the best bf let's be honest.

Idk, I'm just curious to how things were before Breakcheck came to see the world

(Im going out of town for a week and cant draw so im just answering this with a straight up fanfiction-esk paragraph I’m so sorry wish I could be artistic for you anon)

Long story short: the Autobots are very forgiving but they can also be petty motherfuckers.

I mean they welcomed Megatron among their ranks and treat him (for the most part) as an equal and sometimes even a friend. Of course, Megatron earned that trust after years and years of repentance.

I imagine Breakdown is going through a similar arc. He’s never really been THAT loyal to the Decepticon cause. He just… kinda ended up there and didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He views Autobots as these goody, righteous people that he doesn’t feel like he belongs with. So really… what’s left besides Decepticons (considering yourself a neutral at one point was pretty much a death wish. A faction was the only way to acquire any sort of Energon or medical attention. Something Optimus tried hard to avoid, but the reality was safety in numbers.) the only kinship Breakdown ever felt was with the Stunticons… and they’ve been scattered to who knows where… if they’re even still alive.

Except he did have one friend. A friend he’s somehow managed to keep despite being on opposite sides of the war. He tried to convince Bee to join the Decepticons a few times but it was never with genuine intent. Bee was too good for the Cons; Breakdown knew that. He asked to get a rile out of him more than anything. Of course Bee would retort with his own argument of why BD should defect. He was serious about it… but Breakdown knew his place. He’d already done too much…

Now the war is over. And the leader of his faction doesn’t even believe in the cause anymore. Now, Breakdown’s never been a fan of Megatron anyways, but he sure as hell is pissed off when he abandons them to go be buddies with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown is a little jealous (Of course, he’d never admit it) That Megatron, possibly the cruelest and most unforgiving of them all, is allowed to be redeemed.

He feels betrayed. All the Decepticons do really… He feels like he was led down a path that would only end in self destruction and at the last moment, the one who was paving the way jumped ship, leaving them all to suffer the consequences alone.

He never even wanted this.

But it’s way too late now. He dug this grave and he’s going to see to it that he’s buried in it. But despite the betrayal, and most of the Decepticons now stabbing each other in the back, trying to claim whatever power they can while holding on to this flimsy cause they can barely call a functioning faction, he still has Bee… who is maybe more than just a friend at this point but that’s a lot of feelings Breakdown isn’t ready to unpack.

And he still runs every time it feels a little too good to be true. Still proclaims his loyalty to the Decepticons because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s on a sinking ship. And he still keeps his distance because he refuses to take Bumblebee down with him when it finally goes under.

And maybe they’ve got a fling going… and maybe the autobots start to catch on. It doesn’t matter though, Breakdown doesn’t stick around long enough to see their sneers.

Until… he finds out Bee’s carrying that is… because damn he may not be the best bot in the galaxy but he’s not a complete deadbeat.

And when it hits him… that he’s going to be a sire… well maybe… he start’s sticking around to see the sneers. He hears the mumbles of disapproval. And boyyy does it make him so angry at first. How dare these holier-than-thou bots. They don’t know him or what he’s had to do to survive. How many comrades he’s lost thanks to them. They don’t know what Bee means to him. They don’t know just how much he loves Bumblebee. How he would lay down his spark for him in a klick.

Then Breakdown questions… Does Bee even know that?

From then on… Breakdown realizes, preserving his ego isn’t worth this. He has a chance now. A real honest chance. To do better… to have the life he actually wants… with the one bot who hasn’t ever given up on him.

He wants it so bad.

So he puts up with the comments and the obvious distrust. Because he’s willing to put in the work it takes to earn it. He’s going to prove how much he wants this. He’s going to prove how much he cares. He’s going to prove he is capable of doing better… and maybe along the way he’ll learn… he’s deserving of better too…

Breakdown is lucky Bumblebee has always been a little spoiled because it didn’t take too much convincing for the autobots to give him a shot. To attempt to accept him into their ranks.

He thought Optimus would be the worst of it. The one who practically raised the bot Breakdown knocked up. And for a while it is. Optimus lectures him every chance he gets. Any small hiccup, any little mistake. He doesn’t go easy on breakdown. Optimus at least pretends to be polite about it, or at least professional.He doesn’t yell, or make unnecessary insults. His words are always very honest (which makes them that much harder to hear) but Breakdown will take it… he’ll sit through it, no matter how hard he has to bite his tongue against saying something he’ll regret. He knows how thin the ice is. But he’ll do it for Bee.

The others are a little more brutal… Elita especially so… they are more sharp with their words (and sometimes their blasters) letting him know just what they think of him.

But no… the worst of all… is Megatron. Because Megatron is probably the only bot in the whole faction who looks at him and empathizes. Breakdown doesn’t want empathy. Especially not from the damn bot who betrayed him. Megatron doesn’t give lectures, he doesn’t verbally or physically abuse him when he steps out of line. He barely even raises his voice. And it pisses Breakdown off more than anything. Sometimes he slips up in front of Megatron just to push his boundaries, just to see if he can break this peaceful facade the ex-brutal-dictator seems to be taking. He’s witnessed the warlord beat bots into scrap for far less… and yet… Megatron won’t. Megatron seems to be attempting to guide Breakdown, to offer a new start to their relationship, and Primus Breakdown wants nothing to do with it. He’d rather be lectured and assigned extra training.

And it takes a long while… longer than Bee’s carrying term, and a little while into Breakcheck’s sparklinghood for the Autobots to really start to come around to him. Optimus’ lectures seem to have a bit of fondness to them. And perhaps Breakdown listens a bit more earnestly and takes to heart some of the genuine advice the Prime gives him. And maybe the sparring with Elita has turned less from a one-sided fight and into an enjoyable workout. And MAYBE… he doesn’t intentionally push Megatron as much, and has come to a realization of his own that his Megatron… is nothing like the one who betrayed him… and perhaps there is more in common between them than he’d like to admit.

And when people look at him now, he’s not just the Con Bumblebee has been sneaking around with. He’s a Sire… and a devoted Conjux…

And maybe this is what he’s always wanted. And he can be deserving of it too.

[ghost-proofbaby]

thinking about how eddie munson probably has a ridiculous collection of guitar picks. little jars of them. some collected at shows, some he picked up for a nickel at the only local music shop he's ever trusted to do work on his Sweetheart, some he was gifted for free at his local record shop that he's been frequenting for years now. the little old man running the record shop even gets excited when new vinyls are sent out with promotional merch, and he knows it's a band or musician eddie is into. probably even called eddie in at times and handed him a handful of metallica themed pics, hardly worth much, but solely because "i knew you like them and will find a good use for these, son".

my point is, he's got a pick for every occasion. shitty plastic thin ones for just fucking around with. thicker, nicer ones that might have been proper holiday gifts to him. the kind that are meant to hook on his fingers like rings (he tried using them a few times, especially for rifts, but ended up saying he played better when he felt the strings against his skin instead while picking away). novelty ones, ones that just looked plain cool. so on and so forth.

and he's got his collection just sitting in little jars across his room. he used to keep them in other things, like old ash trays or tin cans he'd cut and mold to be good containers. but then he started dating you, and you insisted on lending him any empty jars you weren't using. you had your own collections in yours: pretty stones found down by the creek, bottle caps of the sodas you and eddie get every time you stop at the gas station right on the edge of town by lover's lake - you even had one of every single crumpled up note eddie had ever given you over your time of dating. a few jars of those, actually. so what was lending him a few spares? at this point, the jars were a collection in themselves, and... well... it was prettier to see his vast collection in those glass jars anyways. being able to pick out the vibrant tones of the guitar pick you'd been with him as he'd purchased two weeks prior, or the pick from the show you'd gotten him tickets to last christmas. it was nice. a cute reminder of time spent, of what made eddie munson tick.

the important thing is, eddie munson isn't blind. he sees the way you look at that collection, especially after he fills the jars with it.

how some days, he'll be strumming away on his guitar, softly humming, and you'll just grab a jar to pick through. interrupting his nonsensical playing to ask him where he got one you didn't recognize, sometimes asking for the stories behind ones he knew you already knew. he'd caught on to the way you just liked hearing him talk, especially about the things he cared most about.

you also really, really liked the pick he wore as a necklace. it was probably your favorite in his collection, and you knew it was his favorite too. giving it as a gift to you was never an option, because it had been given as a gift to him originally by his mom.

so he does the next best thing.

he figures out your favorite pick in his collection. the one you always go back to, the one you ask for the story behind on a nearly weekly basis. one similar to the one always resting against his collarbones. pearly sheen, marbled tones, a slow indent the shape of his thumb being worn into the old tortoiseshell. it's a little less red, a little bit brighter, and he can't even strum it against his strings anymore without thinking of you. it's somehow become his lucky pick - the pick he cherishes most aside the one from his mom.

and the one he chooses to turn into a necklace, for you.

does it all himself. carefully piercing a hole through the top just like his own, picks out a nice chain that costs two paychecks of his, takes an old pocket knife to it and spends weeks carving your initials into the shiny material. he's gentle as hell with it, finishing it off with some gold paint to fill in the carving that matches the chain and swirling tones of the picks.

a week before christmas he nearly backs out of the gift idea, and almost begs wayne to help him go to the mall and pick out some other basic but safe gift for you. a perfume/cologne, a nice sweater, anything. wayne refuses to let him, and the only thing the gentle old man will offer is a nice box for eddie to place that necklace born of love into.

the look on your face on christmas morning, sitting in the center of the munson's living room, on the verge of happy tears as you lift the homemade necklace so gently, soothes away every single doubt ever had about it all.

and the look on wayne's face is a simple, caring, stern vision of i told you so.

[annebd]

winter warmers, day 17: public sex/hot cocoa ~2700 words. this fic is based loosely off the pics and my tags on this post.

“Final grades are already submitted, mate. The time for bribery has come and gone.”

“Very funny, Daniel.” Max places the cup of hot cocoa on Daniel’s desk. A little bit of the whipped cream has sputtered out of the hole at the top. He swipes at it and licks the foam off his finger. He watches Daniel watching him. “Extra whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon, like you like it. And anyway, it’s not a bribe because you are not my teacher anymore. That’s the point."

Max slouches off his backpack and dumps it in a heap on the floor in front of the threadbare armchair next to Daniel’s desk. He throws off his jacket, too- slings it over the back of the chair- before slumping to sit, his legs spread wide. He’s spent the better part of the semester in this exact position, big blue eyes staring raptly at Daniel across the desk, counting down the minutes until this moment. Now it’s Daniel’s turn to stare.

“Max…” he warns.

The door to Daniel’s tiny, cramped office is wide open, but it’s quiet. It’s late into the evening on the last day of the semester. The university is almost entirely deserted by now. All of the students abandoned campus the moment they finished their last exams over the week, and the professors have all gone home for the day, leaving their TAs to put together the final touches on grading for the end of the semester.

Daniel’s office is at the end of a long corridor in the dingy, mostly unused section of the English department. There’s a janitor’s closet next door that contains nothing more than a single mop and a broken plastic bucket. The empty office across the hall has a bigger desk than his and an actually functioning window, but when Daniel asked if he could move over there instead, his advisor had thrown around words like “seniority” and “tenure” and “paying his dues.” So he’s been stuck in this shoe closet for the past two years, while a perfectly good office lies empty just a few steps away. He likes to complain to Max about it when he’s feeling particularly resentful about some university bullshit or other. Max just likes to listen to him talk.

The office is, as usual, empty. As is the janitor’s closet. As is every other office or storage room down the hallway, all the way to the elevator bank, where the lone lightbulb is flickering intermittently, casting dancing shadows along the wall. They’re alone in the building for now. No one else is around.

Max tells Daniel this.

“No one else, huh?” Daniel leans back in his own chair, matches Max’s slouching posture. He takes a sip of the cocoa. Savors it. Takes another. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with that information?”

“You know what, Daniel. You are not my teacher anymore. This stupid class is over. No more Beowulf, thank god. And now I can have you. You said.”

“You can have me?” Daniel cuts himself off. “Jesus, Max. That’s definitely one way to phrase it.”

“Always you and your phrasing. I still am upset about when you took points off my essay for that, by the way.”

Daniel laughs.

Max doesn’t. He glances at the open door, which offers a clear view down the hallway. Still empty. Not so much as a faint footstep click-clacking in the distance.

He stands and turns Daniel’s swivel chair outwards a little so that he has enough space to kneel down in front of him. 

“Max,” Daniel warns him again, but his voice is softer this time. He’s not protesting. He’s looking down at Max, who’s already sliding his hands up and down the soft, worn denim encasing Daniel’s thighs.

“You have to say yes. You already said we could, but you have to say you want this now.” Max sits back onto his heels, and immediately feels colder being even six inches further away from Daniel. “Will you say yes, for me? Say that I can have you?”

Daniel runs a hand across his stubbled cheek, lets it cover his mouth for a moment. Max watches the light catch on his gold rings and dance across the wall. Daniel pulls off his glasses (an affectation, he’d once told Max. His prescription is so weak that he can get by fine without them, but they help sell the look. PhD student in English Lit, rather than tatted bogan) and looks at Max with wide eyes. Max looks back.

“Yes,” he says. “All right? I’m saying yes. You can have me.”

“Okay,” Max agrees and pushes Daniel’s grey sweater up so that he can lean in and suck a bruise into the center of his chest. He pulls back to look at it. His own mark on Daniel’s skin. Daniel has told him about some of his tattoos, and he’s seen some, of course, but he knows that there are others yet to be discovered. He’ll find every last one with his eyes and then his tongue. For now, he’ll add a few more of his own.

Daniel groans when Max sets his teeth against Daniel’s nipple. “Fuck, babe. Not even a kiss first? Right to the nipple play, huh?”

Max pulls back. Daniel’s right: they should kiss. He lets the sweater fall out of his hands and pulls Daniel by the back of the knees so that he slides lower in the chair. Max pushes into the space between Daniel’s spread legs so that they’re chest to chest.

Daniel looks soft like this, vulnerable, as he looks up to where Max hovers slightly taller than him. Max is used to Daniel taking up so much space: big laugh, big personality, big hair. But here, underneath Max’s hands, he’s small. His baggy sweaters hide a narrow waist, tapering to bony hips- delicate wrists extending to long, nail-bitten fingers. Max wants to cover him completely, hide him from the world, keep him for himself. That wouldn’t be fair, though. The world would be so much smaller without Daniel in it.

He cups his hand around Daniel’s cheek, his beard prickling ticklishly against Max’s palm.

“Hi,” Daniel says, quietly.

“Hello, Daniel,” Max says and then leans in for a kiss. It’s softer than he’s expecting, given the stubble situation. Daniel’s lips are warm against his, and they press together for just a moment before Max pulls away to look at him. He never gets tired of looking at Daniel.

He moves back in, harder this time, Daniel’s mouth opening for his, and he licks his way inside. He sucks on Daniel’s tongue, where the taste of cocoa and cinnamon is still lingering. Daniel kisses back- biting, bruising kisses that send a shock of pleasure direct to Max’s cock. He could spend hours here, days, years, just feeling the pressure of Daniel’s mouth on his.

But he has plans that extend beyond just a few heated kisses.

He has wanted this since the very first day of the semester, when he walked into that stupid Brit Lit classroom with his stupid copy of Beowulf and saw the hottest person he’s ever seen in his life sitting cross legged on the desk upfront, waving him in and telling him to grab a seat, that they’re just getting started.

He’d sat in the closest seat to the front, dead center, and spent the next three months contributing minimally to the in-class discussions that Daniel led, and instead, daydreamed about bending him over the lectern and fucking him until he cried. He did fine on exams, wrote marginally passable essays (phrasing issues aside), but couldn’t be bothered to contribute to the inanity of the conversations around him when he could spend that time imagining the taste of Daniel’s golden honey skin if he licked him all the way from his collarbone to his cock.

Soon enough, he’d started showing up to Daniel’s office hours twice a week, and then inviting himself to sit in the office whenever he knew Daniel would be there. He’d plop himself in the armchair and tap away at his homework for other classes (“the ones that matter, Daniel”) while Daniel worked on grading essays and occasionally tapped away at the doc that will eventually become his thesis.

And in that time, Max’s fantasies turned from the desk in the lecture hall to the desk right here in this cramped office. He’s spent many an afternoon sitting in the ratty armchair and watching Daniel work, while picturing doing exactly what he’s doing now: pressing his lips against Daniel’s and sliding his hand underneath his sweater to pinch a nipple, drawing out a low moan.

Daniel had always said no. Not until the semester was over; not while he was still in a position of power over Max.

And now they’re here. The semester is done, Daniel is no longer his TA, and Max can live out every last one of his fantasies.

Without breaking the kiss, he grabs Daniel around the waist and levers him up and out of the chair so that he can spin him around to sit on the edge of his desk. He leans around Daniel’s side to close the lid of his laptop and set it on the chair, which frees up the space he needs to lay him out flat on his back and start pulling at his clothes.

“Off,” he says, and shoves the hem of the sweater up so that Daniel will remove it completely. He reaches down to take off Daniel’s boots and then unzips his jeans and pulls them off. Between the two of them it’s quick work until Daniel is naked, save for his socks and the gold chain around his neck. He’s on his back with his ass at the edge of the desk and his thighs already falling open for Max to fit perfectly between.

Max takes a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him. Daniel’s tan is still a perfect golden, even now in the startling cold of mid-December. He’s lithe, deceptively muscled for how slender he is, further camouflaged by the baggy sweaters and hoodies he’s usually draped in. But like this, all of him on full display for Max’s pleasure, he’s a perfect specimen of toned muscle.

There are more tattoos even than Max expected- his thighs especially are a quilt of color. Max ignores them for now. There will be plenty of time for them to become more intimately acquainted later. For now, Max has other issues to attend to- like licking that stripe across Daniel’s torso. Collarbone to cock, and then back again.

He must stare for a hair too long, because Daniel starts to curl in on himself, shy in a way that Max has never seen him before. That can’t stand. Max leans down to kiss him again, pressing his hardening cock, still trapped inside his jeans, against Daniel’s, which forces his legs wide again. He wraps them around Max’s back and tugs him in closer.

They kiss lazily for a while until Max is so hard that the press of his cock against his zipper is a physical ache. He unzips and pulls himself out, immediately thrusting into the hollow where Daniel’s hip meets his thigh, precome slicking the way.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, no beating around the bush.

He makes quick work of sliding on a condom and then slicking his cock and Daniel’s hole with a tiny packet of lube, both of which he’d tucked into his pocket earlier this evening.

He pushes in and feels the warmth of Daniel surrounding his cock. Daniel’s eyes widen and he gasps when Max bottoms out. He’s not huge, but his cock is thick, and he can feel Daniel’s hole fluttering around him to accommodate his girth. He moves slowly, letting him get used to the stretch.

“Fuck, Max,” Daniel chokes out as Max thrusts in to the hilt again. “More, please.”

“So polite for me. Of course, Daniel. I’ll give you everything you want.” And he does. For long minutes, he focuses on nothing more than the connection between their bodies, Daniel’s entirely naked and Max’s still fully clothed. He’s insane with the sensation, the knowledge that Daniel is giving himself over to Max so completely, letting Max take care of him.

He’s on the verge of coming when Max feels Daniel still beneath him for a moment, his gaze focused over Max’s shoulder. “Max, the door.”

“Yes. It’s still open. Anyone could walk past and see us. They could see you all spread out for me. For my cock. They could hear you, too, of course. Because you’re being very loud with your moans, Daniel.” He pushes in deep, makes sure to stroke firmly across Daniel’s prostate. He waits for him to moan and then does it again. “Just like that.”

Daniel shudders and clenches down around Max’s cock. It’s Max’s turn to moan out loud. He can feel Daniel starting to tremble beneath him. He reaches for Daniel’s cock and starts jerking him roughly.

“Now, Daniel,” he says. “Come for me now. Please.”

Daniel closes his eyes and pulls Max down over him, presses their mouths together. He licks across Max’s teeth as he comes. Max follows immediately behind, filling the condom and wishing they could do this bare. Imagines the feeling of filling Daniel instead, spurting deep inside him. He groans again as his hips kick up reflexively. He adds that to the mental tally for next time. There will absolutely need to be a next time.

They take their time cleaning up. Max grabbed a stack of napkins when he brought Daniel’s hot cocoa earlier. They don’t make for the most glamorous post-fuck clean up, but they’ll do.

When their clothes are back in place and they look mostly presentable again, Max tugs teasingly at the chain around Daniel’s neck, pulls him in for a kiss.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Daniel tells him softly.

Then, he grins big for a second. “Oh, and for the cocoa, too. Delish, mate.”

Max just rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome. For both. Now, come. I need to take you home and fuck you some more. On a big bed, where I can take my time.”

He waits for Daniel to gather his things and turn out the lights in the office. He’ll finish his last bit of grading over the weekend, he tells Max.

They walk down the hall to the elevator, Max with one hand wrapped around Daniel’s hip and a thumb tucked through his belt loop.

As they near the elevator bank, they both freeze. Just a few doors down from Daniel’s office, they see light streaming out from Dr. Lambiase’s office, light that definitely hadn’t been there when Max showed up earlier.

They turn to look at each other, their eyes huge. Slowly, they walk towards the open door and freeze again when a familiar voice calls out from a familiar face. “Evening, boys. I thought I was already done for the day, but I had to come all the way back to campus to grab a couple of folders before break. You two all done for the evening?”

Neither of them says anything. Dr. Lambiase raises an eyebrow at them.

Max nudges Daniel to answer; he’s the TA. Not Dr. Lambiase’s TA, of course, but still. Max is just a student.

Daniel hurries to spit out, “Yeah, yep, we’re all done. Max just had a couple questions from the final exam, but we’re all good now, so we’re gonna go, have a good night, see you later.” He waves, prompts Max to do the same, and then speedwalks them down the rest of the hallway, where they wait in silence for the elevator to arrive.

“Oh my god,” Daniel says as soon as the elevator doors close. “Oh my god!”

“Well,” Max intones. “I guess we can check that one off the fantasy list, then?”

They look at each other silently for a second and then collapse into each other in a pile of giggles. Yeah, Max is definitely going to cross that one off the list.

[minyard-05]

thinking about nicky and erik back home in germany and it's christmas and this year it just didn't work out– they didn't try and plan travelling until it was too late, nobody's schedules worked out quite right, so this is the first christmas nicky spends in germany without the twins. and it's fine, really, it is, nicky knows where they are, andrew and neil have settled into their apartment in colorado, just adopted their second cat, aaron and katelyn are in chicago, their residences have just started, last time katelyn texted she said she was thinking about getting aaron a dog and nicky made her promise to get a pug. it's a quieter Christmas to ones nicky might be used to, but it's all fine, really, it is. but he's got this weird nagging feeling at the back of his mind, his 'mom instinct', erik jokes, and nicky laughs but he really can't shake it. a call to andrew goes unanswered with a text a few hours later "at practice." neil texts just after "did you need something?"

aaron picks up, but it only lasts five minutes. he's driving, because they called him in for night shift again, on christmas, nicky complains, and aaron maybe even laughs down the line but it's still a thousand miles away. "they're sick, nicky, they can't help it."

"alright, doctor man, go save the world or whatever."

aaron laughs again, and says merry christmas before he hangs up. nicky drops the phone in his lap and sighs. erik puts a mug of hot chocolate in his hands and kisses his head, and nicky remembers he meant to send more of the german stuff from the market to andrew, knowing he's probably grown up by now.

"something on your mind?" erik asks, shifting so that nicky can sit sideways against him. he settles his hands into nicky's hair, combing through curls and tangles, and nicky sighs, not sure he could put it into words if he tried.

"it's just so quiet, you know?"

erik nods, reaching for the remote. he flicks on the tv but nicky barely notices, too caught up in his thoughts.

"i mean there's stuff i don't miss. when they wouldn't talk to each other for weeks wouldn't even stay in the same room as each other. i don't miss aaron trying to get as far away as he could from us, or andrew's meds, or when they couldn't communicate outside of therapy. it's just–"

"you miss when they were only a door down."

nicky nods, and he can feel tears pricking at his eyes now. he never cried over the twins when they were anywhere to see, knowing they'd only hate it, but erik knew him better than that by now. erik had listened to nicky break down over both trials he'd been brought in to testify in, had stayed on the phone for hours when aaron was in holding, when andrew was in easthaven, even flown all the way from germany when nicky himself was in hospital. erik had listened and erik had reassured and nicky was certain he didn't deserve him by now, but he twisted his ring around his finger and let erik press another kiss to his forehead.

the volume turns up, and nicky finally looks up at the screen. it's an exy match. nicky frowns– erik has never been much of a sports person, but then he catches half a familiar name on the commentary.

"–Minyard's recent transfer has definitely turned this team around since the start of the season. We're looking forward to seeing a lot more from the Chicago Kings this year."

nicky laughs, because it's like it's been years since he's seen andrew walk out onto the court, helmet under his arm, to crowds of screaming fans dressed in white and blue, and nicky laughs and he's really crying now, but it's like andrew can see him through the camera, because he pulls his helmet on and sends a two-fingered salute to the crowd. nicky lets erik pull him close and wipe tears away from his eyes.

"i'm so proud of them."

"you should be."

[miya-cs]

A little courage and good communication.

Reader x Max Verstappen

In which the reader always blames himself for any uncomfortable situation, but is learning to deal with it.

Warnings: none very serious. The reader thinks too much, is a little anxious and pessimistic, but everything works out in the end.

(Yeah, I'm dealing with my traumas through fanfics, my psychologist will never know)

Traduzido do português pelo Google tradutor (tentei revisar, mas, ei, sempre dá alguma coisa errada, desculpe)

***

Tension fills the Redbull motorhome. Your hands are clenched as you keep your eyes steady, watching the Team employees from one side to the other.

Max has barely spoken to you today. From the morning when he woke up early and came to the garage alone, to the fact that he didn't even come to see you after you arrived.

You see, it's not that you depend on his attention, but… Your anxious mind starts to remember every action you've taken in the last few days, trying to find something in which you could have hurt your boyfriend.

Was it because you didn't wait for him for dinner? But Max himself said you could have dinner because he would be late. Was it because you didn't do anything after he had bad times in free practice? When Max arrived, upset about the race, you didn't even know why, but, as always, he always said everything was fine.

You believed him and left him alone in the room, because you knew he liked that so he could reflect on what he could or couldn't improve in the race. But… he was fine, wasn’t he?

You keep watching. Maybe you could get him a drink? Or maybe just go talk to him and wish him luck in the race? What to do?

You feel your eyes watering, and it irritates you. You’ve always been very sensitive and, due to some situations in the past, you’ve learned to hate that side of you.

Why cry over something so silly? Just because your boyfriend hasn’t paid you any attention all day? What an idiot.

You remember Christian’s words, after Max introduced you to the Team after a few months of dating in private.

“Do you really think she” – his gaze took in yours completely, a little cowering next to Max – “will be able to handle all this? Formula 1 isn’t just a sport, Max, you know that”.

Max vehemently defended you, and so you were made official on Redbull and Max’s Instagram. But, after more than a year together, you wonder if, perhaps, Horner was right.

You take a deep breath, remembering your psychologist's words: the best way to stop thinking too much is to get things straight. Talk. Ask questions. Face it. You're not psychic and not everything you think is correct.

Right.

Your eyes scan the garage again, finding Max on the other side, analyzing some screens with graphs. The grading will start soon and then you'll only be able to talk to him later.

You wonder if it's better to resolve things first. What if something happens and he's still upset? What if he's just waiting for an apology from you?

Finally, you decide to go to Max. Your steps are hesitant, and they get even worse when one of the mechanics points at you, Max's eyes quickly finding you.

He frowns as you approach, noticing your hesitation.

"Is everything okay?"

"Can we talk?" You say, and Max nods, his features serious. You follow him to the corner of the room, away from the noise of the garage and the employees.

“Um, I… I wanted to know if I did something to upset you?” You get straight to the point, knowing Max prefers things that way. “It’s just that you didn’t talk to me right today, and you were acting weird, and I wondered if I did something wrong? If I did, I’m sorry. You know I can be inattentive sometimes and…”

“Schatje,” Max interrupts you. His hands come up to your face, resting on your cheeks as he lifts your gaze to his. “Why the hell would you think you did something wrong? The car has been a mess since the last race last week and I’m trying to improve my time before the race tomorrow. That’s all.”

“Oh…” You blink, his words melting over your mind and washing away all your worries. “So it’s not me?”

Max rolls his eyes, before placing a quick kiss on your lips.

“No, Schatje,” he murmurs, and your shoulders slump as a sigh of relief leaves your lips.

“That’s great,” you smile, and Max can’t resist kissing you once more. “Get back to work then, Maxie. Good luck. I’m sure you’ll still be able to get the best out of your car in qualifying today and in the race tomorrow.”

Your words make him smile. “Have dinner together later?” your boyfriend asks.

“Room service. I don’t want to go out anymore today.” You answer and he just nods, before saying goodbye.

You keep smiling as he walks back to the mechanics. Your therapist would be so proud.

But before her, you were so proud of yourself for having the courage to solve things by talking instead of allowing your mind to create all the worst possible scenarios and suffering for something that only existed there, in your head.

Sometimes, to solve things, all it takes is a little courage and good communication.

[wandasaura]

okay but what was R’s best orgasm that happened last Christmas? 👀 from your latest fic

this is from two months ago… i have no idea what fic we’re talking about so i’m just gonna tell you about ducky’s best orgasm… so… i hope thats okay with you

well to start, it’s somewhat of a competition (war) in the maximoff-romanova household. natasha claims that from her perspective, she gives you the best orgasms. she will analyze the patterns in your behavior over the course of months, just so when the conversation gets brought up again — which it inevitably always does — she can clap back at wanda with admissible proof that physically, she provides the best orgasms. she will also never shy away from bragging about how you turn to absolute mush in her arms after a scene, how you come undone so beautifully and give yourself to her entirely. because while she’s trying to factually assert her superiority, she’s also just a lesbian fucking her girlfriend really good… like really good (verbatim what she screamed across the living room at wanda during one rehashing).

wanda doesn’t even bother to bring her own facts to the discussion despite knowing natasha will pry at her like she’s on the stand for murder, she’s so confident in herself that she lets natasha just argue at her, sometimes natasha’s been going at her with facts for something close to three minutes, and wanda will just get so fed up with her wife that she sets her glare on ducky, accent thicker than all hell, and simply remind ducky of her title, of how she’s mommy. poor girl folds instantly every time and natasha just stomps away in frustration, although she’s literally thinking about wanda gives her some of the best orgasms of her life… which then prompts her to think that she really couldn’t pick between ducky or wanda.

this is natasha’s roman empire actually. she’ll randomly be sending emails and will just sit there and contemplate how ducky and wanda give her pleasure in such different ways. in the soft moments she steals with ducky, ducky always gravitates towards her thighs, while wanda will take her time up top. and then she gets horny and ends up texting wanda, which then just leads to them all teasing each other and pissing each other off because all three of them are meant to be doing their actual jobs… i’m telling you it’s literally all in good fun though. they’re lawyers… i think they just have a fear of losing their skill if they stop arguing and rebutting… poor ducky actually, sometimes they’re just so… in it… she knows she’d never survive actually seeing them in action

but ducky! she is just like natasha when it comes to organizing the facts and fantasizing about fucking her girlfriends on the daily . she will tell you when the best orgasm of her life occurred specifically (because she’s the only one who actually knows how to directly answer a question, or rather, the only one who didn’t endure like seven years of law school and cannot be bothered with stupid banter), but she has three categories and events.the first category is natasha, the second category is wanda, and the third category is the orgasms when they do it together.

natasha’s best orgasm was in the winter time the semester after they extended the contract. ducky was stressed, exhausted, overworked, honestly you name it, the poor girl was it. she was at the point where she had so many things going through her mind, and she was so tired that she was energized. she was staying on campus because the workload was getting to be too much to balance with a commute and an internship, and in a few weeks she’d somewhat stopped communicating with wanda and natasha. they talked on the phone, sometimes they’d go up to visit ducky whenever their breaks aligned with a gap in her schedule, but she was so preoccupied with a million other things that she just couldn’t give them a piece of her. she barely was herself with the sleep deprivation and the stress. she turned up at the house at eleven, searching for wanda. she was an absolute brat to natasha, huffing and rolling her eyes, getting annoyed when she kept being told that wanda was busy — which she was. there was a major issue in a contract that needed immediate attention. definitely not the kind of thing they could delegate or allow to sit on a desk — but ducky just wasn’t getting it. natasha was full on daddy mode at that point, and after an hour of teasing and edging and spanking, she finally let ducky cum as wanda walked into the bedroom.

wanda’s best orgasm is on the shore. they’d both been woken up around the same time in the middle of the night and been unable to fall back to sleep before tourist season, and so they’d sporadically decided to make a trip down to the shore to make the most of their early start to the day to see the sunrise. all they brought was a towel… which it is not ducky, nor wanda’s, proudest moment that they got so caught up in a makeout session that wanda fingered ducky on a towel in the middle of a public beach (granted it was empty) at 3 in the morning. it wasn’t even the most physically overpowering orgasm, but it was the way wanda somewhat collapsed on top of her afterward and nuzzled her face into her neck, giggling and mumbling about they’d just acted like horny teenagers. it was a rare moment where it was only wanda with ducky. it’s so hard for wanda to let go of everything, of mommy, of lawyer, of dominant. she craves the control, the discipline, and she panics when she doesn’t have it, so she’s always compensating for something, trying to mask the vulnerabilities she doesn’t want known. ducky just felt so loved in that moment, she doesn’t care that wanda’s also eaten her out until she passed out… but it’s also definitely up there.

and the best together orgasm was on her birthday. they’d been teasing her all fucking day. like all day. wanda woke her up by fingering her, natasha then insisted on showering together and washing her body for her, which was just a lot of lingering touchy feely, and then wanda had laid her accent on thick all through breakfast, uttering the most sickly sweet near condensing praise out of nowhere. thats what really got ducky, was how they’d be having a conversation and wanda would just… absolutely melt her brain. and then at lunch natasha snuck up behind ducky, hugging her tight, and not so subtly grinding her strap into ducky’s ass. and then wanda AND natasha had been touchy feely annoying teases during dinner and the drive home. and then took turns fucking her when they got home. to the point where she was basically mush until the following afternoon? yeah ducky thinks about that a lot

anyways ducky’s actual answer is wanda. she refuses to admit this tho. wanda literally knows tho

[steddieas-shegoes]

still believe

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'santa'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 985 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, mall santa, fluff

🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻

The line is wrapped around the building, which is exactly what Steve warned him about.

Steve insisted they go the first week that Santa was at the mall, but Eddie insisted they wait. It didn’t feel right to see Santa before December even started.

Then they got so busy with hockey practices and the baby and-

“How much longer?” Rory asks. She isn’t quite groaning yet, but Eddie knows she doesn’t have much more patience.

Steve is bouncing Sawyer in his arms, raising his brows at Eddie. The I told you so doesn’t need to be said out loud for him to know that’s what he’s thinking.

He tried to time it perfectly between Steve getting off of work, Sawyer’s next feeding time, and their own dinner time, but now…

They’re looking at a catastrophic failure on his part.

Sawyer’s only four months old, and he’s on a very strict schedule. He’s a perfect baby, sleeps almost entirely through the night, only cries when he needs to be changed, and loves when Rory holds him. But if he doesn’t eat on time? Everyone suffers.

They have at least an hour in this line still and they have roughly 20 minutes before Sawyer’s due for a bottle. They have them in the diaper bag, of course, enough formula already measured out for two bottles and a bottle of water just in case.

“Can’t we go to another Santa?” She asks when no one answers her.

“What do you mean? This is the only Santa.” Steve stops bouncing as he speaks, and Eddie feels sweaty all of a sudden. They both thought Rory still believed in Santa. Sure, she was a little old for it, but last year she’d gotten into a fight with a kid at school because she still believed.

“Dad.” Rory gives him one of her be serious looks. “Every mall has one. The real Santa has to stay in the North Pole.”

Steve’s shoulders relax, but Eddie feels another moment of panic. Rory does still believe in Santa. It’s fine, it’s actually great. But a small part of him hoped that maybe she’d just casually stopped believing. Maybe then it would be easier for Steve to accept that their little girl isn’t so little anymore.

“Right,” Steve smiles at her. “But we’re already in line here, so we should just stay.”

Rory sighs, but doesn’t argue.

Sawyer coos in Steve’s arms. Steve smiles down at him and bounces him again.

“You can’t wait to meet Santa, huh buddy?” Steve asks him.

Sawyer’s way too young to understand what he’s asking, but he still gives a gummy smile. He’s got Chrissy’s nose, but it’s a perfect combination with Eddie’s everything else. They all joked that Eddie might as well have carried and birthed him for how much he looks like him already.

“Does Santa already know that Sawyer’s been good?” Rory asks.

“Babies are always on the nice list until they can walk and talk. Then, they have to behave just like all the bigger kids,” Steve explains. “Santa already knows Sawyer’s good.”

“But what if Sawyer was bad?”

“Well, do you think he’s been bad?” Eddie asks, taking Sawyer from Steve to give him a break.

“He did puke on my shirt last week,” Rory’s face twists with disgust. “And he pooped through his diaper that one time and it got on the car seat.”

Eddie’s doing his best not to laugh. “Those are accidents, though. It doesn’t make him a bad kid.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Rory sighs. She looks around the people in front of them as they take a few steps forward. “Maybe we can skip Santa this year? Since he knows we’ve both been good.”

Steve shakes his head. “We wanted to get a family picture, remember?”

“But it’s not even the real Santa!” Rory exclaims, loud enough that the people in front of them turn and scowl at them. Steve sends them an apologetic look and kneels down so he can get on Rory’s level.

“Listen green bean, you remember when you were really little and thought this was the real Santa?” She nods. “A lot of these kids still think that and we can’t ruin it for them. Plus, they’re handing out candy canes, look!”

One of the employees dressed as an elf is walking down the line offering candy canes. A perfect distraction for kids growing impatient in line.

Sawyer gurgles and then lets out a tiny whine. Eddie checks the time on the phone and gives Steve a look.

Steve wordlessly opens the diaper bag to get the bottle ready and Rory rocks on her feet as she waits for the elf to bring her a candy cane. Eddie pokes at Sawyer’s cheek, and his tummy, and his arm, making him let out little bursts of noises that are nearly giggles.

“Not too much longer,” Eddie whispers to the baby in his arms, hopeful that he’s right.

****

Nearly an hour later, they have Sawyer propped in Santa’s lap and Rory standing next to him, talking a mile a minute about her list. They manage to get a great picture– a small miracle considering Sawyer was due for a nap– and head out, not wanting to hold up the line more than it already has been.

As they leave, Rory tugs on Eddie’s jacket and comes to a stop. Steve is too busy babbling at Sawyer to notice.

“Daddy, I lied,” she says and Eddie’s gut clenches. “I know Santa isn’t real. But dad loves Christmas and it would hurt his feelings. And now Sawyer can believe in Santa so I have to pretend.”

Eddie loves this girl. She has always been wise beyond her years, which is why her believing in Santa at this age seemed ludicrous to him.

He hugs her tight and kisses the top of her head. “You’re a good kid, little one.”

[narcjsistx]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 | OS

karasu tabito x fem reader ; words: 1.9k (1939)

coming from this event, fifth day, 22/12

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: the pact had been clear from the beginning: only needy kisses when the situation called for it, but no relationships. everything had been going smoothly up until that point, but the main problem was that now you were falling for your enemy's best friend. does tabito not want relationships because he doesn't want to set up seriously or just because he's afraid of ruining everything by being mediocre?

Even though you are literally in each other's arms, you feel Karasu light years away from you. The grip he had on your hips a few seconds ago has suddenly diminished, remaining sloppily leaning but not holding them. It took just a few words to destroy the perfect harmony that has existed between you since this strange situation began, and you don't know whether to regret having said them or to still be as convinced as you were until recently. You just know that, now, Karasu is not the same one who was kissing you until a moment ago, with the same usual sweetness

"We should stop. I'm starting to develop feelings for you and I don't want to suffer through something like this"

Words spoken in one breath, but which contained everything, or more, that you felt for the boy who until today has always been your kisser. You said that you started, and not that for months now you have thought only and exclusively of him, that you dream of being able to have a relationship with him, that you would simply like to stop being an ordinary girl and become his girlfriend. But what you dreamed of didn't fit your plan, the one that until now had given you the chance to be so close to him. The plan was simple: just kisses, maybe sooner or later a sexual relationship if you both agreed, but never and ever a relationship

Yet, it seemed so easy to fall in love with him. Karasu is polite, he knows how to joke without being offensive, he has a hobby that he is committed to and has many friends who love him, and he also knows how to treat women. It was impossible for you to understand how a boy like that is best friends with Otoya Eita, the same boy who broke your heart after a relationship that lasted no more than two weeks. You could easily say that the hatred you felt for the ninja turned into love when it came to Tabito.

It all started with this pretext: help me make Otoya regret leaving me, make him understand that I am the best girl he could spend his life with. Betting on his best friend had been a risky choice, but Karasu had accepted. And so, in front of the white and green haired boy, the kisses between you and Karasu had begun their battle against him, who frankly had never paid much attention to you two, only surprised to see Karasu with someone after long time since last time

Almost everyone, even his friends, thought you were a couple. But you both said no, you were just young and a relationship would only hinder the beautiful bond you had. Yet, your goal of making Otoya jealous had turned into nothing in less than a few weeks, while you began to reflect that Karasu was actually a good guy. That, besides the kisses, he also treated you well, and he didn't have the same behavior with girls as he had with you

And so, for a year now, you had begun to think that you loved him seriously, that kisses were not enough for you. It had taken you a year to say the words you had just said to him, and yet you had already regretted it. His face conveyed an all too obvious surprise, untypical for someone like him

"I know you don't want a relationship, so let's end this. It was fun"

You knew he didn't want a relationship, he had made it clear from the start. You had talked about it other times, and his words were always the same. They hurt you, but they were reality

"I don't want a relationship, it would hinder me and my future career as a striker. Professional players never have a steady relationship until they reach an important goal, and I will do the same. After I win, I will look for someone to spend the rest of my life with. But it's not that time yet"

Your heart hurt, your body, everything. It hurt to think that from now on, you would do without him, without his lips on yours and without the good feeling that always existed in your stomach when you knew he was looking at you. You were letting go of something you loved so much, but you knew that by doing so, maybe you would save yourself more future pain

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. It's all over, I don't want anymore"

You didn't know why he didn't want a relationship, or rather, the explanation he had given you so long ago didn't seem entirely right. Karasu, in your eyes, seemed like someone who needed love so much, who even sought it, but why did he reject it if he had plenty of it, of yours, under his hands?

There was something that told you that he was rejecting love because of a more personal fear, because of something that you had always had before your eyes but had never understood. Something that, you thought, made him very insecure. But what was this insecurity of his if he was so perfect? What he was hiding from you?

Slowly, you pulled away from his grip, which no longer held you to him. Your lowered gaze helped you not to look him in the eyes, because seeing even a shred of sadness would have destroyed you. It was the best choice, but why did it hurt?

"You can't be serious, everything is going great"

"It's precisely because everything is going well that I want to stop. Karasu, I think I seriously love you, kisses are no longer enough for me. But at the same time, I know you don't want a relationship, and I don't want to force you to have one with me. If everything continues to go so well in my mind we will be like boyfriend and girlfriend, while you will continue to think of us as just two friends. And I will suffer from this, because I know myself"

You had to be harsh with your words, even if you didn't really want to be, and especially not with him, who hadn't actually done anything to you. But if you weren't, it would have been even worse

He didn't want a relationship. He didn't want a relationship. He didn't want a relationship

But really, why?

"You can't just go away and break everything. Don't you think about me?"

Karasu has never been someone who blames things, he has always admitted that he hates those who do it, because he thinks they are mediocre, and he hates mediocre people

"Yes, and it's better for both"

"You don't know what's fucking best for me..."

"Instead, yes. Think of it as if our relationship was a test for what you will have with your future girlfriend"

"I don't even want to think about anyone else other than you"

Karasu wasn't the type to say things like that, especially things that sounded like a declaration of love, and hell, it seemed like one to you. Why did he just say those words if he always reminded you that he doesn't want to think about anything but his career? Is there seriously something he's hiding from you that goes beyond the simple justification he's always given you?

"If you don't think I know what's best for you, tell me. What's best for you, Tabito?"

Maybe you had crossed the line, just maybe

"The best thing for me is to believe that I am enough for you, but I can't be if I am so disgustingly mediocre. Giving you something mediocre, being yours, is something that bothers me, because I never want to see you with something or someone who is not on your level. The thought of you walking away suffocates me, but I know that sooner or later you would realize how much I am not enough. I don't want you Y/n, even if I really do, because you don't deserve shit. Why did you fall in love with someone like me instead, so mediocre?"

So there was actually something in Karasu's thoughts, something that you actually didn't even remotely expect: how could he, so perfect in your eyes, consider himself mediocre?. The excuse of his career was therefore evidently just a bullshit to hide this more intimate side of his, who had fought so hard to hide it from your eyes, who instead saw it with an inhuman perfection

"Mediocre things don't work, they don't make things enjoyable. Settling is not love, and putting yourself in a situation like that would destroy me. I would ruin everything sooner or later, trust me"

You wanted to shut him up, you seriously wanted to. Hearing him talk so badly about himself hurt your heart, since you didn't even remotely have these thoughts about him. Never ever, in your thoughts, had you imagined him ruining everything, he who in situations always tried to resolve in the best possible way. Maybe he wasn't aware of how great it was, how 'mediocre' was the last word in the world to describe it. Maybe he was genuinely insecure about something that didn't actually exist, but was just in his head for some unknown reason

"If you consider me enough for everything, how do you explain the thing that I fell in love with you, that instead you consider yourself mediocre? Don't you think that I fell in love because you are so perfect in my eyes that I don't understand your doubts? Karasu, you have no idea how much you are not even remotely wrong, you are anything but wrong. Falling in love with someone so perfect, who knows how to love but is afraid, is I think one of the most intelligent things I have ever done, and you know that I have done a lot of stupid things in life. But I want to make you aware of how much you are enough, much more than enough. For me you know how to love, you want someone who loves you, but you are afraid. I want to take away this fear from you"

Silently, you had unmasked the mask that Karasu Tabito had so glued to his face: under that self-confident, sometimes even selfish face, there was a boy who was extremely insecure about himself, who was just waiting for someone who could love him without fear of his insecurities. You had destabilized him with your words, you could see it from the way he was slowly destroying himself. Your words were true, and you hoped that by destroying himself he would understand that you meant them

"Suppose I accept your love. Suddenly I do something, I ruin everything"

"I'll try to love you again until everything works perfectly. And in the meantime you learn where you went wrong and you don't do it again, because I know you can do it. To err is human"

You wanted to love him, you wanted him to love himself. And if trying again with him every time meant making him realize that he wasn't as shit as he said he was, you would try again and again

Mediocre was his fear, not he. A human mediocrity, because in reality everyone has fears of this kind; you had some too

"Let yourself be loved, Karasu. Let your dream come true, because I never want to see you sad about something like that"

"If I make a mistake, will you try again? Shall we try again?"

"Until my last breath"

TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix

[keelt9]

DAHLIA

Masterlist

I slowly entered Joe's room while he’s still fully asleep, laid down at his left. I carefully light on the candle trying to make any sound, emphasis in trying because the lighter makes so much noise that Joe opens his eyes slowly.

“No.” I whisper but it’s useless. Joe is awake. “No, sleep, please.” I try to cover his eyes, making him giggle.

Joe grabs my hand over his eyes with a smirk on his face. “Ok, I can do that.” 

He pretends to fall asleep but inevitably laughs one second later. “Enough?”

I roll my eyes. “We can say that.” 

He opens his eyes, blinking, realizing on my other hand I had a small cake with a candle of Ness, his character from Super Mario.

“Happy birthday.” Joe laughs sitting on the bed.

“What is this?” It’s a small cake I made earlier in the morning trying to mute any sound of the kitchen, without counting the sound of the lighter. “This is great.”

He points to the candle. “Well, blow it up or it melted completely.”

Joe closes his eyes blowing the candle, making a wish.

“A good wish?” Joe nods, taking a small bite of his cake.

“Sorry, but if I tell you, it won't make it true.” Joe observes narrowing his eyes. “You have something on your face.”

“Where?” Joe approaches, catching my upper lip in a kiss. 

“Butter cream.” He licks his lips. “Yeah, it tastes really good.” 

I blink speechless as I grab my heated face with my free hand, hot like a bonfire.

“Let me try again.” He tries to kiss me one more time, my useless attempt to avoid it, ends in him grabbing the cake quickly, putting on the night table beside him with me under him on his bed.

Take a little bit of the buttercream putting on my lips, kissing me as he grabs my neck.

“Yeah, really good.” I giggle, giving him a small peck.

The sound of his alarm distracts us; Joe knows he must get ready for training.

“Save it for the bell.” He stands taking another bite of his cake. 

I sit watching him with dazzling eyes, as he goes to his closet.

“Guys are preparing a small dinner for my birthday, would you like to come?” I hissed. I met a few of his friends in casual conversation, this is another step.

“I have to travel home tonight.” Joe smiles leaning to me, grabbing his pink hoodie for don't fall over my face.

“I know, I know, it's my last attempt.” He kissed my forehead.

“Sorry.” I stand giving him a hug. “Happy birthday Joe.”

Although it is Joe's birthday; tomorrow it's my grandmother's birthday too, all the family are gathering to celebrate her. 85 years old is a big number. 

“Are you planning to come back before Christmas?” Joe starts to put all he could need inside of his bag. “You work for a place here, you know, it will be…”

“I'll try, I'm not promising anything, besides I've always been working remotely.” He laughs going to change his clothes.

“Before I forget.” He takes a paper bag. “Let's consider it as a previous Christmas gift.”

I opened the bag, a Bengal shirt with the number 9 on it.

I roll my eyes. “You don't have to look for it anymore, failing in the attempt.”

However, in the corner I notice something unusual next to his number. 

“Wait, wait, what is this?” I lift the shirt, pointing to the tiny orange heart, next to the big white 9.

Joe pretends looking at his phone. “I'm going late, let's go for breakfast.”

He pulls me from my hand going downstairs, giggling as a kid.

Before Christmas I had a special present for Joe. 

I got to be in Cincinnati a couple of days ago, however it is the second week they’re in a game out of home. Right now they're in Seattle after a bad loss, with a defense that has been imperceptible.

Joe seems disturbed in the press conference, still he texts me, hoping to arrive on time before I take my flight home.

He thinks I'll leave tonight to be on time and help my family before travelling to spend Christmas with my mother's mother.

“This is the last one.” Jason brings the last tray of food.

As Lilian sits on a chair. “I feel I could be arrested in any minute.”

I chuckle as I set in their place the last mistletoe.

“Ready!” I smile seeing around all the arrangements, happy with how everything is settled. “Now let's go, that I don't have so much time.”

I push them to the door not before taking the last look, it's perfect.

After a quick shower and changing my clothes, I just left myself enough time to drive back before Joe arrives from Seattle.

All should be according to the plan with my “little” helpers. 

And it was, as I kept waiting for a couple well-known voices, that I heard at the entrance.

“Come on guys, this could wait.” Joe complains. “Y/N leaves tonight, I haven't seen her in weeks, and I really want to say goodbye to her.”

“Joe, this mustn't wait, it's urgent.” Tee said, even though he sounds tired, his voice is cheerful.

I heard them opening the crystal door of the training camp, but I know they just make sure Joe gets inside before leaving.

“The lights aren't even turned on!” Joe screams as I light on.

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve!” Joe blinks, getting used to the lights. 

When he does he smiles brightly tilting his head when he sees me in a green velvet dress and an elf hat..

“What is this?” He walks to me to hug me. “This is pretty amazing!”

I smile as I surround him with my arms. “And I make dinner.” I think for a second. “Sorry, we made dinner.”

“We?” Joe split, noticing the dinner set in a small table behind me.

“Lilian, Jason and me.” Joe grabs my hand as we walk close to the table.

“How did you get in?” Joe looks around seeing the Christmas lights hanging around a small area.

I pretend thinking. “You have good friends willing to help.” 

Tee, Ja’Marr and BJ helped me to convince Zac to intercede for me and get a special permission. 

“Should we?” Joe says with a bloated eyes but a side to side smile.

“Yeah of course.” I give him a small peek in his cheek.

The dinner is delicious, you can see it for the way Joe barely speaks until we finished.

“Delicious.” He cleaned the corner of his mouth. 

“Big thanks to my mom.” She guided us through all the cooking processes. 

Joe put his elbows over the table. “Why here?”

I scoff rolling my eyes. “Joe, do you know how many security cameras you have in your house?” 

He laughs. “A few.”

“A few, yeah, a few.” I take out a box under my chair. “Here.”

Joe giggles, his hands on his hair.

“What is this?” I smile seeing his cheek in a soft pink.

I tremble with fingers on the top of the box. “Don't get too excited, ok? It’s not a fancy thing.”

Joe clicks his tongue. “Damn.” For after, wink at me.

“Open it.” I smirk as he takes the upper part, tiling his head confused.

“I'm lost.” He takes another small box with twelve candles, small white candles.

I point to the box with the candles. “One candle, one wish. Simple as that.”

Joe and his rich laugh is music to my ears. 

“Can I begin?” Joe opened the box taking out one. 

“Now?” I cough for the surprise.

“Yeah now.” He digs in the big box and finds the matches. “I'm supposed to write on this.” 

He takes the small piece of paper tied to the candle and the pen, I nod. “If there is something I can help, let me know.” 

Joe smiles. “One more time, how many candles are there?” He keeps writing.

“Twelve.” He folded the small paper and carefully burned it.

“Then you owe me eleven wishes.” He winks at me, but I just point the ashes on the table. “Don’t worry, this is for me, to myself.”

I lean on the table giving him a small peck on his lips.

“Merry Christmas and happy new year Joe.” He has that naughty smile on his lips. 

He caresses my cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

On Christmas Day Joe made sure to send me a photo of the second candle with his wish written on it.

 >Eat well and keep healthy.

Like every year we spend Christmas in Buffalo, this year the cold and the snow are at their top.

Streets are covered in white, you need 3 minutes outside to be covered in a white cold veil. 

“So, darling, your mother and Collin said you've been quite happy, these months.” Grandma said as she took out the special cake that Collin loved from the oven. “A special reason?”

I finished cutting the last strawberries she will use for decorating. “It’s not a reason, grandma, it’s a person.”

Bad time to eat a strawberry that almost killed me. “A QB.” 

Grandma softly patted my back giggling. “There is a reason why Colin must be far away from wine, he tends to speak way too much.”

I take a sip of water thinking of a way to punish him as soon as he appears at the door.

“Ye…Yes. But, we’re just hanging around, dating, seeing how things work, it could be just a…” Grandma tilts her head as he takes out all the things she will need. 

“Darling, darling, how many times have I told you about your Grandfather and me?” She has that face of utter love.

They met in middle school, after grandpa helped her to hide from her friends in what seemed like a cringe double date; breaking his glasses on the way, for crashing with him as she covered her face walking outside the school.

“It’s not the same.” Grandma raises her hand so she can keep talking. 

“I fell in love with that guy with clear vision problems in less than 3 months, now look at us, happily married after 47 years.” She smiles proudly with a voice full of adoration.

The loud hit on the door with laughs from grandpa and Collin, makes her roll her eyes. 

“Sorry! We bought it!” Collin appears in the kitchen sweating covered in snow as dad and mom carry the boxes inside of the house.

“You didn’t go for a box of chocolate bars?” I asked Collin as he drank all my water.

“It's supposed to be! But Grandpa saw the discounts and said we’ll buy a few.” He makes quotation marks with his hands. “He bought one box; for you, one for me and one for mom and dad.”

“Collin!” Mom shouted for him from the door. 

He leans his head on my shoulder. “Did I mention their friends?.” He takes a deep breath. “Walking a meter on the snow it's like walking three miles.” 

His breathing is fast even you can see a big smile on his face. “I’m coming!”

He runs to the door leaving a trace of snow from the kitchen to the main door.

“See, how not falling in love with him?” Grandma smiles and grabs my hand. “What I am saying is, when the feelings are real time it doesn't matter; what you feel here.” She pointed to my heart. “And here.” Then to my head. “It’s the most important.”

I see Grandpa entering with three chocolates bars, one for grandma, one for me and one for him, kissing her head. 

“For you.” Grandpa takes out a dahlia from his coat. 

We came back just in time for I could see the last game of the year from the Bengals, a wonderful defense even though the offense was a little bit imprecise, work for getting them to keep the win in their home.

But for Joe that wasn’t enough, you can see for the twisted lips at the end of the press conference. 

“You’ll have a full week to make an adjustment. Don’t be so hard on you.” I called Joe when he texts me he’s in his home. 

Joe nods and as he leans on the couch, nodding avoiding my eyes through the video call. 

“Joe?” He sighs and sees the camera nod one more time. “Now, please, stop pulling your fingers.”

He giggles. “I’m tired, sorry.” He put his hand on his neck moving around his head.

“It’s ok, go and rest, I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?” I stand on my bed wanting so badly to be with him but he needs a little bit of space.

“What a way of ending the year with me, huh?” I scoff as he gets down his head, pulling his finger one more time.

“It couldn’t be better.” He saw the camera with a surprise expression. “I mean it.”

The knock on my door as Collin stays in the door distracted me. 

He scrunched his face when he noticed I’m on a call. “Sorry Y/N, but it’s time.”

I nod, tonight one of my father's best friends invited us for a last dinner before New year.

I smile at Collin before he goes out of my room. “Well, time to go, too.”

I stand on the bed, ready to hang out the video call, searching for my coat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second, let me see you.” Joe takes his phone like he could see it more in detail.

Switching the camera in front of my mirror Joe can see me; wearing a cute black dress, a Christmas present of Lilian.

“No way.” I can see Joe hiding his face on a pillow. “You look… whoa.” 

Feeling shy and adored, that’s all I can say.

“Y/N! We’re going late!” Dad passed in front of my room screaming. 

Joe mumbled a couple of things that I couldn’t hear. “Sorry, text you later, bye.”

As we get in the car Joe sends a photo with the third candle and the note.

 >See you in person. ❤️

Even though both of us knew we couldn't see each other before new year, it was still a little bittersweet situation. We have to settle with a quick call at midnight, under the mischievous eyes of my family observing me through the crystal door of the backyard. 

Next morning all of us wake up really late, with the appearance we just sleep one hour; by the time I get down to the kitchen dad is making coffee with his PJs on.

“Mom?” I take four cups from the counter regretting leaving my sweater on my bed.

“Trying to stay awake.” Both of us laugh, that laugh increases when Collin enters, messy hair closing his eyes as he hits the door of the kitchen. 

He put his hand over his forehead. “We should change that for a normal door, let’s get rid of the crystal door.”

Dad served three cups of coffee observing us sitting on the stool, with a smirk on his face. “Serving coffee, years ago, milk and cereal.”

“Dad!” Collin rolls his eyes. “It’s the first day of the new year, let’s not be sentimental.”

I push his arm. “Speak to the big, not sentimental boy.”

Collin cried yesterday, probably drunk as he remembered in a few months he will be far away from home.

“Whatever, Y/N, do you mind going to your grandparents' greenhouse?” Dad asked to take things for breakfast.

“Sure.” 

My grandparents have a greenhouse in the boundary of the city. We spent a lot of time during our childhood; they had an amazing place where Collin and I passed such beautiful moments.

He was learning and helping, I was just observing and paying attention to the details, notebooks on my lap, taking notes.

I arrived around 7 pm, all the lights, most of them turned off.

I knocked before getting in, just the lights of the main office turned on, they left a small note.

 >We're in the one next to the big three.

I perk through the window seeing all the lights there on, I smirk, they love that place for sure.

As I walk the cold wind makes me shiver, but I notice something weird; the cold lights of always now are in warm lights.

“What are you do…” My words stuck in my mouth when I saw the lights coming from the back of the greenhouse.

As I walk in, small bouquets of flowers are situated along the main corridor, I narrow my eyes taking in one, it took me a couple of seconds realizing the bouquets are conformed of heartseases, opium poppies, bignonias and marigolds.

As I keep walking, I realize the back curtain is slightly open; the warm light coming from that spot, so I removed it carefully. 

He is there. 

Joe is standing surrounded by flowers and Christmas lights.

“Happy new year.” He smirks, extending his arms. 

Raising my hands full of bouquets he rolls his eyes. 

“I don't think about that.” Both of us laughed as I gave him an attempt to hug.

“That's why you've been so quiet these days, huh?” Joe barely replay one text, my eyes seeing lights all over the place, I understand why.

“Such nice people are your grandparents” I see a small table where I can leave all the bouquets. “And Collin that helps a lot too.”

That explains why my grandparents didn't call right away as they saw or heard Joe Burrow. “I couldn't make the dinner, I owe you that.”

“I feel lucky enough, I imagine you have been locked in the building since the very first hours of the day.” I put all my bouquets so I can have my arms free.

“Ha ha ha, so funny.” Joe clicks his tongue. “Come here please, I need your help.”

“Another wish? I can do that.” Joe narrows his eyes. “I'm in a row, 2 of 2.”

“That confident?” Joe nods.

I touch my jacket. “I'm healthy and warm and you already saw me.” 

“I mean wearing that black dress.” Tilting my head Joe bit his lips.

“Believe me Joe, you have to work a little bit harder to see that dress.” I know I pinch his pride for the way he pouts.

“Sounds like a bet. I like that.” He shakes his head and focuses one more time. 

Turning around he takes a small box. “You should light one candle, you know?”

“Omg, could you just open it?” I laughed, enjoying seeing him so exasperated.

I take the lid and see a small crystal ball, I scoff, imagine another flower, to my surprise it's just the small paper of the candle inside of it. 

“What is this? Should I break it?” Joe chuckles, twisting around the ball to open it. 

I unfold it, the number five in the corner.

 >Please say yes.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Joe asked, making my eyes focus on his face. 

My heart is beating fast enough to cloud any coherent answer.

“I know you probably think this isn't a serious thing, but for me this is so real, we just met for a short time, and… you have been a breath of fresh air every time I see you.” Joe scratches his chin. “I love flowers isn't a secret… you know what Ja’Marr asked me when a month passed since I met you?”

I shake my head. “Joe, how many flowers do you need?” Joe takes my hands one more. “My house was full of flowers, a bouquet in every corner, still, it takes me a lot to reach this point.”

“Joe… I… It's…” Dammit I can't form a phrase.

Joe squeezed my hand smiling at me. “Tak..”

“Where are the fourth and fifth candles?” I hit my temple on my mind. Really that's my answer?

Joe looks to his right at a small table, two candles are burning slowly with a gold glow.

“My fourth wish is please that I don’t shutter so much as I speak.” I cover my face with the crystal ball as I whisper. “What? I don't understand you.” 

“Oh my. Yes!” Joe takes the ball off my face. “Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes.” 

I jumped to hug him, he quickly lifted me from the ground, kissing me.

“No, no, put me down.” He raised his eyebrows. “I want to have a healthy QB to hug when you win the championship.”

“You're so...” I shut him down, kissing him tenderly. 

“I guess I have to rush all my preparations” My useless attempt to go down failed one more time.

“Rush?” I side eye to him as I notice dahlia between the small lights, so accurate, after all we are making a compromise.

I surround his neck with my arms. “I was thinking of moving to Cincinnati after summer.”

His eyes move from my lips to my eyes. “Now probably, just probably think of doing it sooner.”

Joe cleared his throat. “You know if you need a place to stay, I can make you a space in my house.” 

I give him a small peck, feeling his grip on my thighs trembling, not for the lack of strength just because he's trembling.

“Mhm, what about for quite a long time? I don't want to be the third wheel with Lilian.” Joe laughs, his rich laugh.

“Right, that will be awkward.” He fakes thinking. “Are you a good roommate?” 

I hit his chest softly. “You won't have any complaints.” 

One more kiss, this time more saccharine and consuming; I understand now what Lilian said, it's like we built a world just for us.

“I love to have you with me.” Joe smiles right to my lips.

I kiss his forehead. “Deal.” 

What a way of beginning the year, after all Mr. McNeil has right after all, love comes right through our door

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A/N: Omg, I just took a more detailed view to the full series and I’m blown away by the response. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed from the very first flower until the last. 🌸

I’m preparing something… special? or at least that's what I believe, anyway, wait for it! 

I’ll write to you soon!🍒