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fanwarriorfictions · 8 months ago

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Not Again- Part Three

Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader

Summary: The inner court has many questions about Y/n and her world. Missing home even more, all she wants is to fly and clear her head, luckily, her babysitter indulges her

Series Masterlist

-Part Three-

Azriel knew this was going to be a long day from the moment he woke up. Surrounded by his shadows who would not shut up for three gods damned seconds. She’s awake, awake, awake, upset, won’t eat, upset. The little busybodies had snuck off while he slept, and apparently they were very concerned about the state of the female next door for whatever reason.

He found himself dressed and in the hallway waiting for any sign of her, when he didn’t receive one in the ten minutes he’d stood there he’d finally crossed the hall and knocked three times on the door.

She was still in there, he knew that from the way his shadows kept trying to slip through the cracks towards her. And he could feel the shield of air she’d placed around the room, hiding the sounds of her approaching footsteps.

The door swung open and Azriel couldn’t explain why his breath caught in his chest. The house had gifted her new clothes, the traditional night court style that Amren preferred to wear, in the deepest darkest night court black. The silk cropped shirt hugged her curves, and the flowing high waisted pants left a small sliver of skin on display. Beautiful, pretty, black suits her. His shadows whispered again and again and again, he was about ready to lock them away for a moment of peace.

“Here to take me to the dungeons yet?” She asks, lifting her arms towards him as if expecting cuffs, amusement glittering in her eyes as she watches his eyes lift from her waist, “what’s on the table today? Just some light interrogation? Maybe a bit of torture?”

“Breakfast actually,” he replies dryly, “the others will be here shortly.”

“Well that’s no fun,” she pouts, dropping her arms to her sides, “lead the way then, shadowsinger.”

The title rolls off her tongue, that accent swirling and dripping with charm. A small smirk on her lips as she notices his hesitation, turning his back on her still felt like a bad idea, even though he didn’t glimpse a single dagger on her, he’s sure she wouldn’t need it.

She seems fine, less tense than the night before, a mask of cool amusement and charm, yet his shadows seem concerned, upset, they’d whispered all morning. As they walk he keeps one eye on her, taking in the way she examines every surface, every turn, every nook and cranny. She was mapping out the halls in her head, memorizing the ways out, smart. If she wanted to she could shift into that magnificent hawk form and fly through the halls and off the balcony before he could even try to catch her.

They turn into the dining room, Rhys and Feyre already sat at the table. The table set for several people, Azriel assumed the rest of the court would be here soon, Cassian flying them up from the River House. Elain would stay back with little Nyx, her mate there to protect them both.

“Good morning,” Feyre says, voice reserved yet kind, “I’m Feyre.”

Y/n grants her a small smile, bowing her head slightly in greeting. She doesn’t say anything, opting to examine the room around them like she’d done in the halls, nervous. She didn’t let it show on her face, but Azriel could tell, could see the tension in her shoulders.

“Please, sit,” Rhys says, gesturing to the seats across from them, “the rest will be here shortly.”

“Should I be worried about that?” Y/n asks, her tone is light, that cool amusement hiding the faint look of panic that flashes through her eyes.

Azriel’s shadows writhe at his sides when he sees that look, something about it settles wrongly. She had nothing to fear from them, but how would she know that? Strangers who had found her vulnerable, who had tried to look into her mind, who she knew next to nothing about.

Feyre laughs lightly, “no, no, of being talked to death perhaps, but I swear, no harm will come to you.”

That seems just good enough to Y/n to coax her to sit across from Feyre, her eyes glance warily at the foods laid out between them and instead of filling her plate like the High Lord and Lady across from her she simply leans back in her seat and watches. Azriel takes the seat beside her, pointedly filling his plate with mounds of eggs and bacon and bread with jams.

She won’t eat, eat, eat, eat, she needs to eat. Shadows angrily whisper in Azriel’s ears but he forces them away as he hears the sounds of his family grow closer down the hall, Cassian’s booming laugh echoing into the room. He can see the moment Y/n tenses, her body readying for a fight that would not come.

“A rambunctious lot you’ve got here,” she says coolly, that mask of indifference slid into place.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Rhys sighs.

Cassian is the first to come through the door, followed by Nesta who rolls her eyes at her mates back.

“Is this the female who handed Azriel’s ass to him?”

The tension in Y/n’s shoulders slip every so slightly and Azriel feels himself relax too. He was prepared to leap inbetween his family and her, to protect which one he wasn’t sure.

“You say that like it’s such an impossibility,” Mor says as she and Amren step through the doorway, “I’ve seen plenty of females hand you your ass, Cassian.”

“But it’s Az,” Cass laughs, “Mister dark and broody spymaster caught off guard by the second female falling on his lap.”

“She did not fall into my lap,” Azriel sighs, “she was in the-“

“Whatever,” Cassian interrupts, waving his hand, “close enough.”

Azriel rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics, recognizing them for what they were, a way to break any tension, to make this seem like a simple breakfast instead of the interrogation it was sure to become. One glance at Y/n told him she wasn’t buying it for one second.

Her eyes travel over them all, stopping briefly on Nesta as their eyes lock. Both females had that cold stare that could freeze oceans. Though she’d given back a majority of the cauldrons power, it still lurked behind Nesta’s steely eyes, that silver fire rolling in warning. Y/n looked just as lethal, those cold eyes almost glowing with the power lurking below her skin, wether it was ice or fire, Azriel wasn’t sure he wanted to find out which she’d use first.

Nesta seemed satisfied with whatever she saw in Y/n’s eyes, grabbing her mates hand to drag him to their seats beside Feyre. Mor slipped into the seat beside Azriel, Amren taking the seat beside her.

“Well,” Rhys says with that charming grin, “now that everyone is here I’d like to introduce our lovely guest, Crown Princess of Terrasen, Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.”

“Now that’s a mouth full.” Mor whistles as she piles her plate full of sweet pastries and fruits, “lovely to meet you, Princess.”

“Y/n will do.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the fangs,” Cassian says when her sharp canines peak through her lips.

Azriel keeps one eye on the female next to him as he pretended to be interested in the food on his plate. Her arms were crossed over her stomach, her mask not slipping despite the eyes weighing her down.

“What is this place?”

Rhys raises a brow at her, “would you like to eat first before we get to the nitty gritty?”

Y/n nods towards the food, “I’d like to know exactly who and what I’m dealing with before I accept food from fae I don’t know. Didn’t anyone ever teach you stranger danger?”

Eat, eat, tell her to eat. Azriel tries to quiet the shadows, getting annoyed with how insistent they were. As if she heard them, Y/n glances at him, frowning at the little wisps that stray to close to her.

Rhys looks ready to give her a sarcastic response but Feyre rolls her eyes and butts in, “you are in Velaris, the heart and soul of our territory, the Night Court.”

“You’re the leaders of this place,” Y/n states more than asks.

“High Lord and Lady, few of many on this continent,” Feyre nods, “how’d you know.”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of royals,” Y/n shrugs, “Queens and Kings, Lords and Ladies, Emperors and Empresses.”

That peaks everyone’s interest, Azriel can feel the curiosity in the air. When Quinlann had arrived, she’d been at war with the Asteri, the ruling power of her world, despite having kings and queens, they all answered to the immortal, intergalactic parasites, as Quinlann had put it. She and her mate had succeeded in ridding their planet of the monsters, but who knew where else these creatures lived.

“What is your home like?” Mor asks, the question seemingly harmless, but depending on the answer could bring a whole world of consequences.

Y/n examines her, not missing the hidden question beneath is your world a threat to our own, “much like your own it would seem. We’ve been at peace for the last 25 years. Until a gate opened up and ripped me away from my family.”

There’s the briefest change in her then, that mask slipping just enough that Azriel recognizes it, grief. She’s upset, homesick, won’t eat. It made sense now, she’d said she’d been with her father when the gate had taken her, when she’d been dumped onto a foreign land surrounded by strangers she couldn’t understand. She must have been terrified.

“Before you ask, I have no idea how or why the gate opened, or why it took me,” she continues, “it shouldn’t have been possible. None have been opened since the lock was forged during the war.”

“War?” Cassian’s brow raises in question, “what lock?”

It seems to set her back into a memory, her eyes not entirely focused on the male who’d asked, “the war against the Valg. Demons from another world who liked the taste of ours. The fight against them spanned over centuries, over multiple wars, my ancestor was able to lock the King away with a stolen object not meant for her to use, but for that there was a price demanded from the gods who’d made the lock in the first place, an heir of her blood to forge a new lock, to open a gate and send them to their true home, my mother. Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, she almost died paying their price, and in the end they betrayed her anyway.”

Anger simmered in her eyes, Azriel could feel heat radiating off of her, that fire under her skin wanting to come out.

“What became of them?” Rhys asks.

She takes a moment to rein that fire in and then she meets the High Lord’s eyes, “she killed them all.”

A silence ripples through the room, her mother had killed her world’s gods. Were they like Midgard’s asteri, Prythian’s daglan, or maybe their own kind of nightmare.

“She locked the gates, fell through time and space, through hundreds of worlds, guided back by my father who would not let that mating bond slip through his fingers. When she’d come back, she had a fraction of her power left, the power that could end the valg Queen and King and save them all.”

“How did they win?” Nesta asks in the quiet that follows.

A smile, not a smirk finds Y/n’s lips and Azriel’s shadows dance towards her. He barely keeps them in check, one resting on the edge of her chair before it was reined back in. He catches the curious look sent his way by Rhys. He’d surely hear more of that later.

“My Aunt Yrene,” she says, “a healer, the valg were vulnerable to their touch, she took the evil shriveled soul of the valg King and turned him to nothing but a black stain on the floor. We put a rug over it.”

A surprised laugh slips out of Mor, “please tell me it’s hideous.”

“The tackiest thing I’ve ever seen, they let me paint on it as a child. It’s covered in bad stick figures of my uncles.”

They’d asked her questions until it was nearing lunch time. Cassian had about fallen out of his chair when she’d told them of the witches and their wyverns. From the look in Amren’s eye, Y/n knew that if she’d ever met Manon, the world would tremble in fear.

Rhys had been particularly interested in her mother’s journey through worlds, he had an uncanny feeling about it that he couldn’t quite explain. Feyre and Nesta had been shocked to learn that her mother was half human. Mor had asked her millions of questions that she could barely keep up with.

During it all, Azriel had been silent at her side. No questions on his lips but she could see the wheels turning in his head, could almost hear the whispering shadows that danced closer and closer to her every chance they got. She’d felt one drifting over her elbow for a moment before Azriel had glared right at the curious little shadow and it flew back to his side.

They’d slowly stopped their questioning and then they left one by one, Amren had left to look into this worlds knowledge on Wyrd markings and gates, Cassian and Nesta had said something about a training session, Rhys and Feyre needed to go relieve the third Acheron sister from babysitting duty and Mor had desperately wanted to see her nephew.

And just like that, it was down to Y/n and Azriel. She assumed he was still on babysitting duty, despite their apparent trust in her. She didn’t blame them for being cautious, Wyrd knows she’d not let a single one of them out of her sight if the roles were reversed.

Y/n stood stretching out her sore muscles, an involuntary groan slipping past her lips as she lifted her arms above her head. They’d been sitting there for hours and her body still aches from the events of yesterday.

“You didn’t eat anything,” his cool voice startles her, deep and slightly gravely.

She glances down at him, noting the way his eyes drag up from that small sliver of skin at her waist. The clothes we’re comfortable, yet much more revealing than anything she’d been used to. She can’t help the smirk that rests on her lips as she looks down at the handsome male, she could get used to clothes like this.

“I’m not hungry,” she shrugs, moving through the room, glancing towards the huge windows that showed the vast city far beneath them.

“You haven’t eaten since you’ve been here,” he says, eyes tracking each of her movements.

“Oh? And how would you know that,” she looks pointedly at the shadows, “I thought I told you to keep wandering eyes to yourself.”

He simply shrugs, “they do what they want.”

“Clearly.” She turns towards the door, “are you to play babysitter all day? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

She’s out the door before he’s has the chance to reply. The place was massive, she’d memorized the walk from her room to the dining hall, but the amount of halls that laid around told her she’d only seen a small portion of what the place had to offer.

“Would you care for a tour?” Azriel’s suddenly standing to her side.

“Babysitter and tour guide,” she snarks, exploring down the hall, “A double threat.”

“I’ve been told to keep any eye on you.” He looks down at her, “and that’s what I plan to do.”

“Oh I have no doubt about that.” She turns into a large living space littered with comfortable looking couches and chairs, a doorway leading to a balcony against the far wall. “I’m sure you’re a male who takes his duties very seriously.”

She moves towards that door, towards the open air beyond, Azriel following close behind. She could feel the wind beyond, begging to caress her wings, she’d shift and fly for hours and hours, maybe she could fly home.

“You could make this easy for both of us,” he says, letting a shadow block her path, “and quit trying to run away from me.”

“Now who said I was trying to run away,” she flashes an overly sweet smile over her shoulder, one that she can tell gets under his skin.

“You’re not a prisoner,” he almost growls, “but if you choose to make this harder than necessary, I have no problem tying you to a chair.”

She snorts, “Kinky, but no thank you, I’m not interested.”

He doesn’t respond, that carefully crafted expression not shifting an inch, though his shadows give him away. They writhe around him, reaching for her and pulling back over and over, like he was trying not to strangle her.

“Tell you what,” she says, “I’ll stick around you like glue if you let me go for a quick flight.”

She doesn’t hide the longing glance she gives the balcony, whenever she was stressed or upset her and her father would go flying, they would fly until she was ready to talk about what was eating at her, or until she tired herself out and he would take her home and tuck her into bed just to go fly the next morning. Y/n couldn’t think of a time she’d been more stressed than now, stuck in a foreign world with no way home, surrounded by powerful fae who she didn’t trust not to bury a dagger between her shoulders the second she turned around, depsite how kind they had been.

“Fine.”

Her eyes meet with warm hazel, surprise not hidden on her face. She would’ve thought he’d fight back harder, keeping her here, where she couldn’t fly away was safer, easier. But he’d agreed, and she gives him the first genuine smile she’d had since she’d arrived and says, “Thank you.”

He nods once, “after you.”

She’s out the door in seconds, shifting with a flash of white light, and diving over the edge of the balcony towards the city far far below.

Azriel was regretting his choice to let her fly, simply due to the fact that she was so damn fast. Despite the chill in the air, she flew over Velaris with such speed, the air biting his wings as he tried to keep up. She zigzaged over the city, following streets up and down, from the cliffs of the house all the way to the open mouth of the Sidra. They flew over the bridge into the Rainbow, the artists quarter and almost like an invisible string tugged her towards it, they ended up at one of the many amphitheaters.

Music of practicing artists flowed out, preparing for a concert later that evening, there was no single melody, a mesh of different tunes that somehow melded together into a new song of its own.

Y/n landed on a high wall of the amphitheater, that flash of light, and then she was sitting precariously on the edge, as if there wasn’t a steep drop directly behind her to the streets below. Azriel landed next to her, carefully sitting down with a comfortable distance between them. It felt wonderful to rest for a few seconds, letting the sun warm his wind chilled wings.

He watches her, the way she leans towards that music as if she couldn’t help but be drawn to it. There’s a longing look in her eyes, a sadness that cracks that carefully constructed mask to pieces. Azriel wants to comfort her, he’s overcome by the sudden need to fix whatever is wrong, but he was never good at that, so he just sits beside her, mouth firmly shut.

“One of the first things my mother did after the war was rebuild the theaters,” she says quietly after several minutes, “my earliest memory is sitting in the Queen’s box, they’d written a symphony about the final battle, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I can still hear the horn that signaled my mothers arrival.”

Azriel listened carefully, “Your mother seems to be a brave warrior.”

“She didn’t have a choice but to be,” Y/n whispers, “Most of my family didn’t.”

“You seem to be a warrior yourself,” he says, “were you given a choice.”

Her eyes don’t stray from the players below, “Yes and no, my parents insisted I train, they wanted me to be prepared for anything, I wanted to anyway, mostly because I wanted to grow up to be just like them. My father is one of the strongest fae warriors in the world, Rowan Whitethorn, soldiers talk about him around camp fires like he’s a myth. He and my uncles, his cadre, oversaw my training. My mother too, she’d once been a renowned assassin, I’d begged and fought with her to teach me everything she knew until she got sick of me and relented.”

He could see that, the way she struck fast and quietly during their first encounter, she moved with the grace of a dancer, struck with the strength of a warrior.

“Quite the family,” he says, searching for anything to lighten the mood, something Rhys or Cassian would say, “I’m sure bringing home boys was interesting.”

She laughs, and he can’t help but enjoy the sound, “you have no idea, not only do you have to impress my parents, but also the kings and queens of several nations. I made the mistake of bringing a boy home when Manon was visiting from the witch lands. She tried to introduce him to Abraxos, I don’t think I ever saw him again.”

From what they’d heard of the witch Queen, Azriel hoped the boy had just fled the kingdom, instead of becoming dinner.

She goes silent, and a shadow whispers in Azriel’s ear, she wants to go home, sad, very sad.

“Would you care to eat now?” Azriel asks, raising to his feet, “I know flying works up my appetite.”

She flashes him a saccharine smile, one that does its best to hide the pain but it can’t hide her eyes, “are you asking for a date? I thought I told you I’m not interested.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the slight twitch of his lips, “Trust me, Princess, you’re not my type either.”

She climbs to her feet, and Azriel finds that stretch of exposed skin at her waist as she turns to him, the scent of pine, snow, and embers drifting towards him on the wind.

“I’m everybody’s type.” Her tone lowers, dripping with charm, the kind that could make men and women crawl on their hands and knees. “Think you can keep up this time?”

Without warning she jumps off the back of the tall amphitheater. Azriel has a brief moment of panic, shadows whipping out to try and catch her, wings flaring as he goes to dive after her. Then, brilliant white light blinds him for a second, and that red tinged hawk shoots past him, letting out a cry that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

He swears, jumping off that ledge and shoots into the sky behind her.

#the shadows are my favorite characters by far #I like the term busybody to much #Azriel doesn’t know how to deal with feelings properly #I need them to banter more because it gives me life #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin

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solbaby7 · 10 months ago

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Falling Into You

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, possible typos, sexual themes, violence, blood, angsty but there’s also fluff

summary: A certain Shadowsinger stumbling into love with a woman and all of her many, many secrets.

part 2 to Tripping Over You

[ before you ask, this will become a mini-series ]

—

Days of chaste touches turned into nights of hushed conversations around a crackling fire wearing nothing more than those sorry excuse for night clothes and your hair free from its ponytail. Weeks of getting to know each other; first kisses and second and a third until there were too many to count—too many times pushed up in come corner cloaked by shadows with tongues touching and hands roaming past the respectable limitations but Azriel couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

Every touch was burning hot, igniting a flame so uncontrollable he looked past a few warning signs. The sneaking out at the witching hour with Amren and returning before the sun came up with a fresh glow to your skin and insatiable energy to burn. The mumbled comments about “still getting used to this body” when you’d stumble or lose your grip on your silverware at dinner. You never talked much about your past; something he could probably understand if it weren’t for the way your eyes would darken when he’d push the topic a touch too hard.

All of it, Azriel ignored for the sake of feeling—of having someone to anticipate coming home to and always finding folded love notes with feminine handwriting and a lip mark stained at the bottom shoved in random pockets and fighting leathers for him to find. “You’re staring,” Rhysand points out, a glass of whiskey in his grasp and his free hand was shoved in his pocket. “—and it’s not the good kind.”

“I think she’s hiding something from me.”

The High Lord raises a brow, amethyst eyes scanning the sitting area where the others were; Fey and Cass were hunched in the corner, giggling over the wine they’d smuggled as they filled their glasses to the brim. Mor and Nesta were arguing over something while you and Amren leaned into one another, watching the girls with bright amusement in your eyes as you mumbled commentary back and forth. “Things are still new—there’s bound to be a few skeletons in the closet.” Az hums in agreement but doesn’t offer more information, not about what he’d observed because your laugh was like music, a symphony of flutes and string instruments all playing in such perfect synchronization that deep magic long forgotten rose to get a glimpse of who was behind it.

“You’re right,” The shadowsinger gives in too easily, captivated by the way you light up when your gaze shifts to him, a blush forming when you catch him already looking and Az can’t even remember the conversation anymore when you beckon him closer.

Rhys lingers behind, observing the way you leaned into the spymaster and the love that shown in your eyes was undeniable. Hushed words and shared laughs, hands trailing up the length of your arm, fingers that pull hair from your shoulder to make room for the kisses he placed there. Seemingly perfect if it weren’t for Amren’s watchful eye on the whole thing, otherworldly features scrunching up at the sight of you and Azriel but she shakes it away.

“Rhys,” Feyre calls out, steps wobbly and cheeks flushed from all the wine. “Get over here.”

That night, you don’t leave with Ren.

Staying back with Az tangled in his sheets, lips swollen and cheeks hurting from smiling so much when strong arms cage you to the mattress. He’s shirtless; sweatpants hanging low on his hips and the soft material of your nightgown shifts up your thighs when he settles between them. “I really like this—really like you too,” Azriel mumbles between kisses up the length of your neck, leaving marks and dragging his nose along your frantic pulse. The fire crackled at the other end of his room, a golden glow stretched across the room as you melted in his touch. “I know we’ve been moving a little fast; getting so caught up in the chemistry between us that we haven’t really talking about a few things.”

“Yeah?” You’re breathless, arching into the warmth of the half-naked body above you and the slow drag of his lips trailing the line of your jaw. “Like what?”

“Like whatever secrets you’ve been keeping with Amren.” He feels the way your body stiffens beneath him but he doesn’t let it stop him from staking his claim on every inch of skin he could possibly touch. “I won’t push—not now, but you’ll have to tell me eventually.”

There's an audible gulp, your hands shaky when they rest at his sides but you can't find it in you to form words, only managing a nod and the chaos of your mind calms when he keeps kissing and nipping and tracing the tip of his tongue around the curve of your ear.

Azriel doesn't bring it up again.

Not when you stop sneaking out altogether, waking up every morning with your hair splayed across the pillows and legs tangled in his own. Not when there's obvious tension between you and Armen, her tugging you off into a separate room before breakfast and Ariel can't help but linger close by, shadows slinking under the door to catch a glimpse of her scolding you, shouting at you about the dangers of what you were doing and his confusion only grows. "Ren, I really like him."

"Enough to risk everything?"

There's silence and your head hangs, brows furrowed in frustration as the truth in her words weigh you down.

"I won't let anything happen to him. I just—" Your voice drops so low even the shadows can barely pick up on them but the plea glistening in your eyes says more than any string of sentences. "He makes me so happy, Ren—more than I ever thought was possible for me. Why can't l get a little happiness to? Haven't I given enough?"

Amren softens, eyes clenching and she has to turn her back to you to compose herself. "Of course, but you know that’s not up for me to decide." She rests her weight against the desk, both arms outstretched before her and dark hair hangs past her shoulders. Nothing is said for a while but when she finally does, you shift completely; that steely darkness that would settle into your features when he prodded too hard. You looked regal, utter power radiating from your stance as you glared at your best friend over the bridge of your nose—you looked like Rhys, shifting from a friend to a High Lord. "I have orders—"

"Then, let me offer you a few more." Azriel's brow raises as the authoritative tone, the way Amren can't seem to meet your eye and gone was the stumbling woman with sheepish smiles and butterfly bandages stuck to her knees. In her place stood someone with a voice, a backbone and dare he said it—but the power and the authority to command whatever you damn well pleased. "You get to have your boyfriend, I get to have mine and you keep your mouth shut about it should anyone ask you any questions the next time you're due to report back to Titus." The step you take towards her, finger pointing at her chest; the hint of fear that darts across her unique features. “And I swear to the Mother above, Amren, if you fucking say a word about any of this to him—"

Amren dips her head, words clipped but utterly respectful. "Understood. As you wish."

Azriel’s gone before the two of you leave the room and when you find him waiting at the table, seat open to his right as he poured you a cup of tea. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, Ren’s just been pissed I keep bailing on her.”

You’re pouring honey and stirring when he slowly asks, “What do you guys do that late anyway?”

“Honestly, it’s mainly a lot of training; this form adapts differently to the fighting style I’m used to and she’s been helping me.”

His brows furrow, jaw working over a steaming pancake and you’re suddenly grateful for how loud Cassian is; not even nine in the morning and he was already laughing deeply, offering jokes and quick quips that has the rest of the Inner Circle snorting over their eggs; too occupied to notice the spymaster trying to decipher a small piece of a much bigger picture. “This form?”

“My form,” You easily correct, a hand reaching out to cup the back of his neck, fingers scratching soothing lines into soft strands of inky hair and he melts like butter under your touch. “Ren thinks I could give your General a run for his money.”

“Yeah, right.” Cass scoffs, mouth full of bacon and eggs, syrup stuck in a clump on a piece of his hair and you can’t fight the growing smile, the giddy grins from the others as the challenge settles in the air. “You’re like a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet, I’d end you in seconds.”

Amren makes a face, fork scraping against her plate. “I wouldn’t be so sure; she’s quick on her feet.”

He slams a heavy hand on the table, a goading grin growing and he’s quick to inhale the remnants of his plate. “Hurry up, Bambi; I’m ready to win my bragging rights for the day.”

Azriel seems hesitant, watching the others place their bets and rush to finish eating. His grip on your hand is tighter than usual when the whole group settles at the sparring ring and Cass is already inside, shirt off and hair tied in a bun at the nape of his neck. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Have a little faith; you’d be surprised by some of the tricks I have hiding up my sleeve.”

He squints at the words, golden irises locked on you as you saunter forward and Az can’t help but admire the tight training clothes you’d changed into. You radiate pure confidence when you enter the ring, already sizing Cass up and making mental notes of whatever you’d assessed about him. “I swear I’ll go easy on you.”

Cassian scoffs and as if a flip was switched; the playful male she once knew shifted into a warrior, lunching forwards with the speed of a panther but you don’t panic. Azriel is transfixed on the way you move, dodging attacks with such ease it begins to look like you’re dancing; light on your feet and impressively aware of everything around you. Cass changes his tactics and a punch that should’ve surprised you is blocked by a strong forearm and you’re landing a kick to his side of his ribs faster than lightening.

It sobers him, the brief pain that lingers a few minutes after the initial contact and the others watch as Cassian really begins to focus. Strong attacks are sent your way in quick succession, a flurry of punches and harsh swings, legs swiping out in attempts to stumble you but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, Azriel swears he catches a hint of a smirk growing on Amren’s face, grey eyes filled with pride and excitement.

Each move is done with such grace and the High Lady actually gasps in surprise when you use Cassian’s own body against him; stepping on the muscle just above his knee in order to hoist your body up and your legs are draped over his shoulders. For a split second you look down on him before swinging your upper body down, head slipping between his legs and your hands brace on the ground as your legs heave to flip the giant of a man over. On his back, wind briefly knocked out of him, Cassian grunts in astonishment, words breathy when he raises back to his feet but he’s looking at you differently; from head to toe like he’s noticing something he never did before. "How did you do that?"

You haven't even broken a sweat, an eye dropping to a wink. "Shall I show you once more?"

The others are laughing, changing their bets or adding more money to the pot as you and Cass keep on but Az just can't help but notice the way you fight is nothing like how he seen Amren fight first-hand in battle. "You taught her this?"

"Jealous?"

He shakes his head, tone dropping an octave and a breeze bristles through the material of his fighting leathers. "No,” You’re laughing at a frustrated Cassian in the ring, an arm locking his own behind his head and the General makes a passing comment about how alarming your strength was for your body. “But, I'm more than interested in joining a lesson or two—to gain perspective."

Amren goes rigid, slowly craning her neck to face him and the steely expression she bares is enough to have him hesitating; remembering a promise he’d made not to push on matters but he couldn’t help himself and Amren’s sudden change in attitude is the fuel to egg Az on further. "Perspective on what?"

Golden eyes gravitate back to you and the vague replies you give when Cassian asks where you’d been hiding such skill. “On her.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar azriel #azriel fluff #azriel angst

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zepskies · 8 months ago

Text

Take Me Home - Part 2

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments on Part 1! I know many of you have questions, and I promise, all will be revealed in due time…

(Also, what do you guys think of new chapters releasing on Wednesdays and Sundays instead of just Fridays? A week is a long time, isn't it? 😂)

Song Inspo: “City Grown Willow” by Radio Company

Word Count: 5,200

Tags/Warnings: Tension, hurt/comfort, major angst, and more comfort of a different sort.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Not Right, But It’s Okay

Tensions were running high at Sunny Day Excursions.

Over the next few days, Mary continued to press the issue of you staying in Montana with little passive aggressive comments that got on your damn nerves. You proverbially dug your heels in, and became even more stubborn and taciturn as a result.

Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

However, the entire camp was shaken the night Paige and Luke disappeared on a hike. Buck and Sunny assured everyone that they were doing their best to look for the couple, but come the morning, it was Emily who accidentally found Luke in the woods, bleeding from a head wound, and without Paige.

He claimed that they’d gone their separate ways after a fight, and he hadn’t seen her since. Paige’s suitcase and things were gone from her tent, so Sunny could only assume that she’d found her way back to camp and left for home by morning.

“Look, no one’s a prisoner here,” Sunny had said. “If Paige wanted to go home, then that’s up to her.”

There was still something off about it though, you felt. Emily seemed to share your thoughts; you’d heard her whispering with Avery, and Dan, another camper in his early 40s.

You started to watch Luke a bit harder from then on. As did your friend Mary, if for different reasons.

It was still early in the morning when you caught her flirting with Luke in front of your shared tent.

“A personal trainer, huh?” said Luke. His gaze flit over Mary’s form, and she allowed it with a smile. “You know, I’ve got a pretty good workout routine, but I’ll bet you can give me some tips—”

“Drink lots of water,” you said dryly as you approached the tent. You carried your sketchpad and acrylic paints in your hand, and you pushed into the tent without giving Luke and Mary more than a glance.

You heard Mary’s voice outside the tent, all girlish and flirtatious as she apologized about you, and suggested they could keep talking later. Luke readily agreed. You sat down on the edge of your bed and watched his silhouette walk away from the tent.

Mary soon joined you inside, and she didn’t look pleased. She stared down at you and crossed her arms.

“Are you kidding me with that shit?” you asked, gesturing at the scene you just saw.

“Could you be any more of a cockblock?” Mary shot back.

“Number one, that guy is a little too young for you, Cougar Town,” you reminded her. Luke had to be in his early 20s. It had been a hot minute since you and Mary were of college age. “Number two, he came here with his girlfriend, who he somehow lost in the woods.”

“She left him,” Mary said. “All alone in the middle of nowhere. Then she took off and went home so she didn’t have to deal with what she did. I feel bad for him.”

“No, you’re horny for him. There’s a difference,” you said flatly.

You loved Mary like a sister, but she had the tendency to let guys blind her to good sense. (Ha. Pot calling the kettle black, came your self-deprecation.)

Though you could’ve predicted the way she huffed and walked away, once again leaving you alone. You sighed.

Wasn’t this vacation for us? you wondered.

Mary continued to bait Luke with coy flirtation, while you tried and failed to ride a horse again. Cormack had been kind and encouraging in trying to help you onto the creature, but once you were on its back, you were too afraid to let the horse move.

You felt like you were going to topple off at any moment, even with Beau Arlen’s advice. (Which still made you blush whenever you thought about it.)

So Cormack helped you down, and you went back to the mess tent for a mid-afternoon snack to make you feel better: a giant jelly donut.

You were really getting frustrated with yourself now.

“It’s not so hard,” Emily had said. You could imagine that her dad, the cowboy sheriff, had put her on a horse from the time she was a little kid. You were a city girl, through and through. The closest you’d ever gotten to riding a horse was a plastic one—a carousel at a carnival when you were six.

While you finished off your donut, you realized that you’d spent the whole day alone. As frustrated as you were with Mary, she was your best friend. And after this week, you would be staying and she would be going back to Chicago. You didn’t know when you would get to see her again.

So with a sigh, you wiped your hands free of donut icing and went to try and find her.

You started with the tent you shared with her. “Hey, Mary? Look I—”

You gasped when, upon entering the tent, you got your eyes seared. Mary and Luke were tangled together under the sheets. He moved off of your friend and rolled onto his back next to her when you came in. Mary uttered your name in shock. Everyone was shocked, really.

You were that, and angry.

“Really?! In our goddamn bed?” you shouted. Your gaze focused on Luke, and you pointed at him. “Get the hell out of here.”

He hesitated slightly, glancing at Mary, but your furious look scared him more. He grabbed his boxers and got dressed under the sheets before he left the bed, and then fled the tent, giving you a wide berth on his way out.

You then focused on Mary, who somehow looked both contrite and irritated at being interrupted. She said your name in a placating way, but you shook your head.

“No. No. Don’t even try,” you said. “That guy’s girlfriend left him in the middle of a vacation! What does that tell you? Please, screw me?”

“You know what?” Mary snapped. She sat up in the bed, making sure to cover herself with the sheet. She leaned over to grab her clothes from the floor and started hastily getting dressed.

“Luke’s actually a nice guy," she said. "You used to know how to have fun. But now you’ve just become this bitter person who can’t relax or let yourself be happy, let alone anyone else.”

That actually struck you—like a physical blow to your chest. You tried to blink past the sting of tears in your eyes.

“You’re a damn child,” you said, steadier than you felt. “You’re not the one who had your whole world imploded.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She still looked angry, but also like she was hiding the sting of guilt. She gathered up some of her things and informed you that she’d be staying at Luke’s tent tonight.

Freakin’ fine by you.

You’d also have to request some new bed sheets from Sunny.

In the morning, you stumbled out of bed after a rough night’s sleep. It was hard for you to sleep in a new place by yourself, especially out here in the woods.

Especially after how you and Mary left things.

You were so tired, you counted it a small blessing that you were able to put on clothes and get your hair into some kind of normalcy before you trekked over to the mess tent.

There you accidentally overheard Avery and Emily arguing; she’d lost her knife in the woods when she’d happened upon Luke, but Avery was reluctant to let her go hiking by herself. Apparently, her mother was due to join them this morning as well.

It seemed like the day of late comers though. A new married couple, Tonya and Donno, had arrived late yesterday to join the trip. They’d requested a tent at the far end of the camp, closest to the woods. Apparently, they wanted to really experience nature.

All you knew was, they seemed a bit weird.

“That knife’s important. My father gave it to me,” Emily said, interrupting your thoughts.

It made Avery quiet, but they both greeted you more pleasantly when you had to walk by them to get to the coffee.

“Hey, sorry,” you gave a little wave in embarrassment. You hated interrupting moments that had nothing to do with you, but you supposed it was unavoidable in this camp.

Once you’d gotten your coffee and filled your plate with some eggs and bacon, you joined them at the table. You pretended not to notice the way they both glanced at you with measures of concern. Did you really look that bad?

Avery wisely didn’t comment. Emily wasn’t as good at curbing her inner filter.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked. You gave her a thin smile.

“Just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep so well,” you admitted.

Of course, that was when the reason for your bedraggled appearance strolled into the mess tent. Mary came in and noticed Avery and Emily first with a smile. It turned frosty when she glanced at you. You gave her a mocking “smile” right back.

She chose to ignore you and went for the buffet table instead.

Right, you thought. You supposed that was how it was going to be for the rest of this damn trip.

“All righty! Good mornin’, folks,” Sunny said, entering the mess tent. She surveyed all the faces gathered—some relaxed and jovial, and then your table, a bit awkward, a bit tense.

She moved on with a smile that matched her name and her shiny red hair.

“Just lettin’ you all know as a reminder, we’ve got a bunch of activities for you all if there are any takers. Archery, kayaking, it’s gonna be a great time,” she said. “But if you prefer, you’re welcome to keep to the camp have a more relaxed day. It’s your vacation, so it’s up to you how you wanna spend it.”

You all nodded in understanding.

It’s your vacation. You choose how you spend it.

That, you could get on board with.

You spent the rest of the morning alone, as usual. Either you were reading in the outdoor lounge area, taking in the sunshine and the fresh air, or you were painting, taking in the landscape of the tall trees and the great, big mountains peeking out from behind them.

You earned yourself some peace today, one that let you breathe and try to tune out your frustrations with Mary, and your worries about the future. You hummed along to a melody in your mind as you painted. Completely at peace…

Until a hand tapped on your shoulder, making you yelp and sending your paintbrush high in the air.

Cormack came into your line of vision with a barely stifled laugh and placating hands. While you took out your earbuds (and calmed your breathing), he grabbed your brush and handed it back to you.

“Sorry about that. Just wanted to let you know that lunch is served,” he said, though he took a glance at your painting. “Hey, lookin’ real good there. Nice landscape.”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Aw, you don’t have to be so nice. I’m still learning.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, if you’re interested in taking classes, I know someone who runs an art studio in town. Miss Peggy. Nice lady. Not too harsh.”

You laughed more genuinely.

“Good to know, thanks! Send me the address and I’ll check it out,” you said. Cormack agreed with a smile, and he helped you up from the long couch you were sitting on. The two of you walked back together to the central part of the camp, where the mess tent was.

There you met Emily’s mother, Carla, who’d just joined her family at the camp. She wasn’t exactly dressed for camping in her pressed blouse and pencil skirt; professional and smart, her long dark hair a perfect coil.

This woman was immaculate. As you soon learned, she was also a lawyer. You didn’t often feel intimidated by other women, but she could fit that bill, considering you were sweaty and dusty in your plain V-necked shirt and jeans.

And especially knowing that this was Sheriff Arlen’s ex-wife. Avery seemed like the “wealthy businessman” type—the kind of man you’d expect a high-powered lawyer to be with. You found yourself wondering how she’d met the sheriff.

That’s none of your busineeeess, you sing-songed in your mind, while you speared more salad on your plate. As if that could disguise the juicy brisket burger right beside it.

After lunch, you returned to your tent to finally find Mary. She was lying on the bed, looking a bit listless.

“I’m surprised you’re not attached to Luke’s hip,” you remarked, setting down your backpack and paint supplies on the floor. “Or his face.”

She shot you a peeved look. “He keeps ditching me for that weird new couple. Tonya and Donner or something.”

“Donno?” you supplied. “Yeah, he’s weird. He stole the ketchup bottle from the breakfast table this morning. He told me, ‘You shouldn’t ruin good eggs with sugary tomato paste.’”

Mary raised a brow, but she turned to you when you sat down beside her on the bed. There was a moment of tension between you, even though your gazes were softer to each other. The truth was, you missed your friend today. You guys didn’t fight often, and it had you hurting. Maybe she felt the same way.

“Listen,” you said with a sigh. “I’m not sorry for throwing Luke out of our tent. That was gross as hell, and I didn’t appreciate that. But I don’t want to fight with you. I want to enjoy our last few days together before you go back to Chicago.”

Mary’s lips pursed, but she seemed to relent.

“Yeah, that was a bitch move,” she admitted. She knew full well that her tryst with Luke could’ve happened in his tent, not the one she shared with you. She met your gaze with more resignation, as well as apology.

“You’re really staying here, aren’t you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m not saying there’s nothing for me back home. Of course I’m going to miss you, our friends, the rest of my family…but I need to do this. I need a fresh start.”

It took her a moment, but Mary nodded. She reached over and hugged you. You held her back tightly.

After a beat, she let you go and slid out of bed.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I need to do something. I’m going stir crazy in here.”

“Where’re you going?” you asked.

“Just for a run,” she replied. “I should be back by dinner.”

“A run?” you repeated, your brows furrowing. “In the woods by yourself? Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

“Well, you could come with me,” she offered. You grimaced. You and running didn’t mix. You were more of a yoga girl.

Mary laughed and finished changing into her activewear and sneakers.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “No worries, I’ll have my phone if anything. I’ll be okay.”

“But your cell won’t have service out there!” you said.

Mary was already leaving. She blew you a kiss goodbye, though she did stop in the tent’s entryway. Her face sobered with a sincere apology.

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back, clear my head.”

You were reluctant to see her go, but you nodded.

“Just be back in time for dinner!” you called after her.

Mary wasn’t back for dinner. Even after the sun set, she hadn’t come back from her run. You were really beginning to worry.

All the other campers were gathering up at the edge of camp for a Night Hike. It was an idea Buck and Sunny surprised you all with a few hours ago. You wondered if they were trying to make up for the strange way Paige left the camp.

“The moon’s full tonight,” as Sunny had said, with a slightly too bright smile. “Should be a beautiful time.”

You asked some of the others if they’d seen Mary, but they all replied negatively. Even Luke was nowhere to be found…but someone else was missing too.

“I still can’t believe you let her go into the woods alone,” Carla snapped at her husband.

Avery’s frown deepened. “I had no idea she went off by herself. You know your daughter. She’s headstrong—”

“Yeah, just like her father,” Carla muttered, turning away from him. Avery sighed.

You couldn’t help but approach them.

“Emily’s missing?" you said in concern. "Mary is too. I’ve been waiting for her to come back all afternoon.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Carla said. She frowned as anxiety continued to well up in her eyes. “Maybe they found each other.”

You touched her arm in comfort. “Either way, we can all look for them now.”

Sunny came up to the group with a flashlight and a smile.

“Everyone ready?” she asked.

“Mary’s missing,” you told her, “And so is Emily. Mary went on a run this morning and hasn’t been back since.”

Sunny inclined her head. After she surveyed the rest of the crowd, she settled back on you.

“I see Luke’s not among us either. Maybe they’re together?” she suggested, in a leading tone. You frowned.

“No, she left alone,” you said firmly.

“Don’t mean she stayed alone, darlin’,” Sunny replied, with that Oklahoma twang that so often made her words more charming. “But we’ll be sure to look for her and Emily while we’re out there.”

Carla shook her head and said to her husband, “That’s it. I’m calling Beau.”

“Darling, you don’t need to,” Avery replied, shaking his head. “Emily’s a responsible girl. She knows what time we’re meant to leave—”

Carla shook her head and walked past him and Sunny—towards the hotspot for cell service. You agreed with her; calling the sheriff couldn’t hurt, especially if you all couldn’t find Mary or Emily on this hike.

You still went with the rest of them to start your own search. You tried to keep with the group, but after lingering in certain spots to call for Mary, you eventually realized that you’d lost the trail—and everyone else.

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

The panic was back now, full force, and you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. And when you turned another corner, you screamed when you bumped into someone.

A girl’s scream echoed just as loudly as yours in the big, empty wood, but you got ahold of yourself, literally with a hand over your wildly beating heart when you realized who you’d run into.

“Emily!” you uttered. The girl let out a breath of relief to see you too. You went to her and pulled her into a hug, and she hugged you back.

“Thank. God,” she said. Her voice sounded tight with emotion, and you held her a bit tighter.

“It’s okay,” you rubbed her back. “How long’ve you been out here?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, pulling away from you. “Couple of hours? Maybe longer.”

You nodded and expelled a breath. Poor thing looked tired. She didn’t even have any supplies with her. You gave her a protein bar from your backpack before you two started walking.

“So the good news is, we found each other. The bad news is, we’re still lost,” you said, counting each item on your fingers. “But the good news also is, I’ve only been walking for about…half an hour or so. I’m thinking we can mark trees or other landmarks as we pass them, like checking them off, so we know where we’ve been.”

Emily glanced at you with a smile. “You’re a checklist person, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely!” you agreed. “Checking things off is satisfying. But it’s also good just to take an inventory of where we’re at.”

You two kept walking for a while. Emily explained that she’d been following Luke, who took off by himself after giving her an ominous warning.

“There are some bad people on this trip. Want my advice? Get the hell out of here,” he’d said.

You frowned in concern. You’d felt that there was something fishy about that guy, pretty much from the moment he and Paige disappeared on that hike. Those newcomers he’d been hanging out with ever since, Tonya and Donno…maybe they had something to do with it.

They’d left camp today to go into town, claiming to check on the restaurant they owned and ran. But with everything now starting to come into perspective, you couldn’t take any piece of information at face value around here.

Suddenly, Emily stopped short.

“What’s…” Your words trailed as you followed her line of vision. There was a frilly pair of underwear on the ground.

That led to a hoodie strewn in the dirt and dead leaves. You continued on, until you found Mary, lying on her back on the cold ground. You and Emily gasped her name, but you moved first, dropping to your knees at Mary’s side. You pressed a hand to her cheek and found it cold.

You moved two fingers to the pulse point at her neck, but there was nothing. No life in her. Your mouth fell open in a silent, shocked cry.

“Mary? Honey, can you hear me?” you tried, shaking her shoulders. When she remained unresponsive, tears burned in your eyes and blurred your vision. You finally saw a dark patch of wet pooled out from under her body.

“Oh my God,” Emily said, voicing your thoughts. She was panicked. “Oh God, she’s…she’s…”

You turned to her and wanted to say, Don’t look.

You had briefly taught highschoolers before you became a college professor. You were used to looking out for your students, and as the adult here, you wanted to shield the teen from the sight of this, no matter how much your mind was spinning.

Before you could say anything, Emily fled the clearing with a scream.

“Emily!” you shouted after her. You glanced back at Mary in desperation, but you forced yourself onto your feet and ran after the girl.

You had slightly longer legs, but she was fast. You only caught up to her because she screamed louder, after running into Buck leading a horse through the woods. She grabbed onto him while you caught your breath behind her.

“What? What happened?” Buck asked. You laid a supportive hand on Emily’s shoulder, and she turned back to you with tearful eyes.

“Mary,” you managed, despite the coarseness in your voice. “She’s…”

This isn’t real, you thought. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

“She’s dead,” Emily finished for you. “Someone killed her.”

Buck’s eyes widened in shock. All he could say was…

“Show me.”

Buck brought Mary’s body back to camp on the back of his horse. The three of you walked in silence all the way there. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her lifeless body. It was wrong. And if you did, you knew you’d collapse.

Emily was likely in shock as well. Her arm was looped through yours, though you weren’t sure who was steadying who.

Thanks to Carla, the police were already on the way to Sunny Day Excursions. When you reached the camp, Carla beelined for her daughter. Despite how happy she was to see her mom, Emily was a bit reluctant to let go of you, seeing how shaken you were, but you encouraged her wordless to go to her mother.

Carla pulled Emily into a tight hug, kissing the side of her head, and asked if she was all right. Emily just shook her head and pressed her face into her mom’s shoulder. Carla looked up at you with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” she said.

You gave her teary smile of your own. You couldn’t speak though, especially when Buck passed by with Mary still on the back of his horse. Sunny gasped and grabbed a blanket to cover the body with.

She then went to you, whispering, “You poor dear. Come ‘ere, sit by the fire.”

She covered your shoulders with another blanket and steered you to sit by the bonfire in the center of camp. You stayed there and stared at the flames. All the while, you didn’t feel the warmth. You didn’t feel the silent tears that slid down your face and dropped into your lap.

“Where’s Luke?” you heard Avery ask.

“That’s a good question,” said Sunny. She turned to her husband. “Buck?”

“I don’t know, but somebody better find him,” he replied grimly.

It was another hour before the police arrived.

You still hadn’t moved from your spot in front of the bonfire on a hard bench, but it was Cormack who gently asked you if you wanted to go back to your tent to relax until the police got around to talking to you about what happened.

You’d agreed, silently, and he helped you up. But you found that you could go no further than the couple of steps that brought you onto the platform outside of your tent. The tent you’d shared with Mary.

You couldn’t go in, and Cormack seemed to realize that. He helped you lower down to sit on the platform, with your dirty sneakers planted on the step below. He gave you a cup of hot tea as well, which you held with both hands and sipped slowly.

You only raised your head when you heard Emily’s voice exclaim in happiness. You watched her run to her father, the Sheriff. He welcomed his daughter into his arms and held her tight. Relief was painted all over his face. You heard the rumble of his voice asking her if she was all right. She just burrowed closer in the safety of his arms.

A blonde policewoman had come with him, along with a whole unit of officers. She went to question Buck and Sunny first, while Beau handled Emily, then Avery and Carla. It didn’t seem like a pleasant conversation, between the two men especially.

Don’t stare, you reminded yourself. You lowered your gaze to the dusty bottom stair between your feet. Your vision started to glaze over the longer you focused on that spot. You weren’t lost in thought. You were just…blank. This entire night still didn’t feel real.

Mary’s last words kept ringing through your mind…

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she’d said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back.”

You were interrupted from your reverie when two brown boots entered your line of vision. You looked up, and Beau Arlen was there to greet you with a look of sympathy. And yet, there was a professional set to his face that let you know you were about to be formally questioned about Mary’s death.

“Is that spot taken?” Beau asked, pointing to the space beside you on the platform. You shook your head and scooched over, so he could sit down. He sighed on his way there, greeting you with polite familiarity.

“Sheriff,” you nodded back. You set aside your mug of tea and crossed your arms, holding yourself against the chill.

You’d left the blanket by the bonfire, and your sweater had been stained with blood, after helping Buck set Mary’s body on the horse. You’d ripped the sweater off as soon as you got to camp, leaving you in just your undershirt.

“You need a jacket,” Beau remarked. He glanced back at your tent, as if he was wondering why you hadn’t gone inside to grab one. But his gaze was perceptive. Instead of asking, he shrugged out of his faux fur-lined leather jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

“Here, you can borrow this for now,” he said.

“Thank you,” you spoke in a small voice. You grasped one edge of the jacket and pulled it closer around you. It smelled like musky cologne and old leather.

Beau waved off his gesture of kindness.

“I hear you found my daughter in the woods and tried to get her back to camp,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

You glanced over at him, and tears once again shone in your eyes.

“I’m sorry she had to see…”

Beau’s gaze was heavy as he sighed and nodded again in agreement.

“I’m sorry you had to see it too,” he said. “And I’m sorry for your loss. For your friend.”

You took in a shuddering breath. New tears found familiar paths down your cheeks.

“Best friend, since college,” you said.

Beau took that in, before he asked you about the day’s events. You had to explain about Mary going missing first, then Emily, and finally Luke, who still hadn’t been found. You told everything you knew from your perspective.

When you were done, Beau reluctantly asked about the Mary and Luke situation. Your lips pursed, but your upset wasn’t at the sheriff. You knew he had to ask these questions.

“We argued about it,” you admitted. “Me and Mary. I warned her not to get involved with him, and the way Paige left camp was just one of many…but still, I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have let her go into the woods alone! I should’ve gone with her!”

By the end, your whole body wracked with sobs. You covered your face with your hands to try and get some semblance of composure, but you just couldn’t keep it together.

“Okay, okay,” Beau said gently. He laid a hand on your back and rubbed back and forth. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I am.”

You sucked in a few tremulous breaths, sniffling. You looked up at him with red, watery eyes. He gave you a half smile.

“Sorry,” he repeated, this time for the endearment. “Like I said, got a bad habit of doin’ that.”

You shook your head with a weak curve of your lips, despite how your lower lip wobbled.

“It’s okay,” you said.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

You didn’t think you’d ever be okay again.

AN: 😥 I'm sorry about Mary, but I promise, it's all for a purpose, besides following canon. But let me know what you think! There will be much more of the reader and Beau in the next chapter, though you may not expect how their next meeting comes about...

Next Time:

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice.

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

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wnderkoo · 1 year ago

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WATCH | JJK

୨୧ see what you want to see, but all i see is him right now

this is a part of my drabble series, read more here!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

You're late.

For once in your college career, you're late.

Blame your friends for dragging you out on a school night and not letting you go home until almost midnight- it took two iced mochas to pump you with enough energy to make it pass your door.

Entering the classroom, you let out a sigh when the professor doesn't berate you in front of the entire class. Instead, he looks at you with passive indifference, silently beckoning you to find a seat.

The Visual Arts course required a more practical classroom rather than an auditorium, organised with high tables that sat two people- it had the messy kind of aesthetic you would expect in a K-Drama.

When you look to your usual table, you cry a little inside seeing blocks of clay and newspaper scattered on top of it. Though, given how late you were, you felt that it had been deserved.

Scanning the classroom, you're mortified to find that the only spare seat in the class is next to him.

Tattoos, piercings, the hint of muscles beneath his shirt- Jeon Jungkook is everything you should stay away from.

You had walked in on your first day, surprised to say the least when you saw him at a table. He was the last person you expected to take an arts course but Jungkook had surprised you, becoming one of the top students in the class with his unique art style which blew you away every time.

As if feeling you glaring into the side of his head, he lifts his eyes, meeting yours almost immediately. He gives you a smile that hits you right in the stomach- damn him.

You hear the professor cough awkwardly, signalling to you that you need to find a seat.

Reluctantly, you make your way to his table and sit down beside Jungkook, avoiding his curious gaze as you try to listen in to the rest of the lesson.

Today was theory, and since you'd done the pre-reading, there wasn't much to be missed.

Maybe it's your lack of sleep, or the certain distraction beside you, but you can't seem to find it in you to pay attention to the words of your professor.

No matter how straight you sit up and act like the principles of clay are the most interesting topic on the planet, your mind wanders off.

When you hear a chuckle from beside you, your head snaps towards Jungkook.

"What?" you ask in a whisper, not trying to get called on to answer a question for talking, knowing you wouldn't have the first clue to the answer.

"You're on the edge of your seat," he comments, grinning down at you like it's hilarious.

"If you sit anymore forward, you'll fall right off."

Rolling your eyes, you take in his own posture. Jungook was leaning back in his chair, looking more relaxed than you've been in your entire life. Yet, something told you he was still paying attention.

You knew he did well in school, no matter how shocking it was that the boy who partied and slacked off in class got straight As.

"C'mon babe, you can relax."

Your head snaps back to the front of the room, hoping Jungkook can only see the back of your head and not the heat creeping onto your cheeks.

It's five minutes later, with your professor still rambling on, that his words really win you over.

Scooting back, you let yourself relax into your seat.

From beside you, Jungkook gives you a smug smile.

"Better right?"

"Mhm."

Sitting beside Jungkook wasn't as bad as you had thought it would be. He didn't even flirt with you that much, although he did call you 'babe' a few times, each time bringing the same heat to rise on your cheeks.

He had even offered you his notes to help answer the questions from today's theory work.

The second part of the lesson was always practical, and today you were experimenting with sculpting. Discarding your chairs, you roll up your sleeves and get straight down to business.

While you're fighting hard not to break a sweat as you battle the stiff clay, Jungkook hardly blinks as he start kneading the clay and moulding it into shapes.

After some huffing and puffing, you suddenly feel his eyes on you.

"Need some help?" he asks.

"Nope. Doing. Just. Fine."

His laugh is the first thing you hear before you feel his presence unnervingly close to you.

You almost gasp when he slips one hand beneath each of yours, lacing your fingers together.

"There's your problem, your hands aren't warm enough. The clay won't be mouldable."

Throughout much of high-school and even some of college, guys overly mansplained things to you as if you couldn't comprehend them, but Jungkook's tone didn't belittle you or make you feel stupid. He was just telling you what you needed to know.

He squeezes your hands in his for a moment before pulling his hand away. He beckons toward the clay, urging you to try moulding it now, and unsurprisingly the clay is much easier to shape in just a few seconds.

You silently wonder why Jungkook didn't just warm the clay up for you, but you were thankful that he didn't try to peg you as the damsel in distress.

Before you know it, an hour and a half has passed and your clay elephant and Jungkook's mushroom are standing proudly on the desk.

The hallway is crowded as you make your way to your next class, the chatter almost too loud for you to hear your name being called. Looking over your shoulder, you see none other than Jungkook jogging to catch up to you.

"Hey."

"Hey?"

You almost look around wondering if he was calling someone with the same name as you, but you can't mistake the boyish grin he looks at you with.

"Do you have any plans tonight?" he asks, hooking an arm around your shoulders to usher you to keep walking.

You quickly realise that if you'd stay still just a moment longer, one of the football throwing jocks would have bulldozed right over you.

"Probably just reading class material, why?"

Your confusion must be funny since Jungkook laughs softly.

"Let's get dinner together," he suggests, making your eyes bulge out of your head.

Did Jeon Jungkook really just ask you to dinner?

"You want to go to dinner with me?" you ask, looking up at him.

"I mean yeah, that's why I asked..." his hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, and you realise it's the first time you've ever seen Jungkook look so timid.

Jeon Jungkook. Campus heart-crusher Jeon Jungkook. Has a new girl on his arm every party Jeon Jungkook.

Before you can voice your hesitation, someone calls Jungkook's name from across the hall, tearing both your attention and Jungkook's to a certain brown haired man.

You recognise Kim Taehyung's face through the crowd, waving at you and flashing you his box smile.

"Yo Kook! You still getting the beer for the party tonight?"

While the two communicate through loud shouts, you take the mention of a party as your cue to leave. Jungkook was probably only asking you to dinner because he had nothing better to do. He probably just forgot about the party he was clearly needed at.

You push past the doors and start down the footpath towards the other cluster of buildings across campus when Jungkook is once again calling your name.

"Sorry about that," he says with his boyish smile, falling into step beside you.

"So tonight? Dinner?"

His adamancy about this dinner is throwing you off, especially when you hadn't even interacted with Jungkook enough for him to be practically begging.

"Don't you need to get beer for the party?" you ask.

"I can get that done by 6:30 and still be in time to pick you up at 7," he replies smoothly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"You don't want to go to the party?"

You can't even mask your surprise, looking up at him to see if he's playing a joke on you.

"I'm sure you'd enjoy that way more than dinner with me," you laugh.

"Nah."

One word, so casually, so confident. You actually believe him.

"Okay, fine. Dinner tonight."

Jungkook all but leaps into the air with a fist up, his elation enough to make a passer-by believe he'd just won the lottery.

You finally reach the English department for your next class, but you stop before the door and turn to face Jungkook.

You stare at him fully, trying to grasp what he was playing at. Unable to read him, you sigh and start walking to the door and with one final look over your shoulder, your words are half a demand and a wish.

"Remember, 7 PM. Don't be late!"

He's late.

You'd felt bad earlier for letting his reputation and rumours make you question his intentions, but now he was just living up to them.

You'd spent an hour getting ready, and were horrified to find yourself smiling more than once as you imagined how the night would turn out. You couldn't help it, you were excited.

Every minute is a laugh in your face as you wait on the couch. Maybe he had found someone at the party worth staying for.

You felt stupid for believing you really could be different.

You're just about to give up and wallow in bed while cursing men when your doorbell rings.

You have half a mind to ignore him but you also can't help but be curious to see how he tries to save himself.

The door opens to a guilty looking Jungkook, whose eyes light up just seeing you, as if he had expected you to never talk to him again.

Arms crossed over your chest, you take him in.

His hair is a little disheveled like he run his hand through it one too many times on the drive over here. Wearing a simple white Nike t-shirt and black cargo pants, he was making it a lot harder to stay upset.

It also didn't help that he smelled so fucking good.

"Baby-"

You cut him off, pinning with a look that says 'try again'. He winces at your coldness, though he knows its deserved.

"Yn."

"You're late."

"I know, and I'm so fucking sorry. You don't know how fast I drove to get here," he says, looking genuinely distraught.

A part of you feels petty for not wanting to hear him out. Your pride was wounded and maybe it would be better to stay home.

"It's fine, you can just go back to the party."

You're about to close the door in his face when he steps into the doorway, a hurt expression on his face.

"Please, give me another chance. I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you," he practically begs, looking and sounding close to falling to his knees.

"Fuck, I even got you flowers because I didn't want you to be upset."

You had realised earlier that you never told Jungkook where you lived. You're not sure exactly how he managed to get your number, you think from one of your friends who share a course with him, but he had messaged you earlier and gotten it.

You'd made sure to tell him not to get you flowers (you felt pretentious assuming he would in the first place) because flowers were for dates and this definitely wasn't a date.

Except when he pulls out the bouquet, you almost just forget everything. He could have half assed it and bought supermarket owned flowers, but he went all out. You're not sure where he managed to get such a beautiful arrangement on short notice, but the longer you look at them, the less upset you feel.

"You think you can win me over with flowers?" you chide, except even Jungkook can tell your resolve is crumbling.

"Is it working?" he asks with a smile when he notices your expression is more lighthearted.

"Yes."

You're glad Jungkook took you to eat somewhere casual enough that you didn't feel like you couldn't talk, but fancy enough that you weren't just eating fast food. A good middle ground served for the conversation that came easy between you while you waited for your food to come.

Jungkook explains why he was late, which you assure him he is forgiven for, and he tells you that he'll still spend however long it takes to make it up to you.

After dinner you split the bill because it still definitely isn't a date, much to Jungkook's dismay.

You spend the rest of the night walking along the boardwalk, seeming to never run out of things to talk about.

You steal a photo of Jungkook being scammed into playing a carnival game. You also capture the moment he turns around, grinning at you after he managed to knock down all of the pins.

He snaps a photo of you holding the massive teddy bear that almost takes up half of the frame.

He tells you to keep it as an early birthday present because this definitely isn't a date, even though he says it as he winks at you.

When the end of the night draws near, Jungkook asks if you want to go on the ferris where which you immediately say yes to.

He leaves the teddy bear by the operator and you're too eager to get on that you miss the $10 he slips to the guy to make the wheel stop when you're at the top.

Jungkook gets in beside you, resting his arm along the back of your seat because it's 'more comfortable'.

The wheel starts moving, and your eyes dart every which way trying to capture all the sights as you rise higher and higher.

You point out buildings in the distance and Jungkook smiles

When you reach the top you almost burst out laughing when the ride comes to a stop.

Turning to Jungkook, you roll your eyes at his cheesy smile. You're aware your smile is just as big.

"Of course you did," you tease, even as you find yourself moving just a margin closer.

"What can I say? I'm a romantic," he says playfully.

You can't lie and say you had expected any of this to happen tonight. Some parts were cliche, sure, but some parts were also just so genuine, so Jungkook.

People can see what they want to see and say what they want to say about him, but in this moment all you see is Jungkook.

Jungkook who won you a giant teddy bear even after being scammed $15 for it. Jungkook who paid for your icecream even though this isn't a date. Jungkook who paid the operator of the ferris wheel to stop when you were at the top.

Maybe it's the kind of cliche where the smart girl does fall for the bad boy. He'll drive you home, walk you to your front step and kiss you goodnight.

Maybe it's the kind of cliche where you want him to.

"This still isn't a date."

The words are said as a joke but Jungkook doesn't have time to laugh before you're pressing your lips to his.

His hand immediately cups your cheek, holding you close as he reciprocates.

And boy does he reciprocate.

His lips are soft against yours and when you sigh softly Jungkook slides his tongue into your mouth.

It's the kind of kiss that takes your breath away and leaves you both panting afterwards. Jungkook smiles at you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand from when the kiss had turned heated and sloppy.

"Definitely not a date."

wow look at me uploading again HAHAH please let me know if you're enjoying these drabbles! feedback and comments are always welcome :)

🏷️: @moonstar127 @royallyjjk

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blades-edge · 5 months ago

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False God | Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: Cooper tries to fill the hole in his heart by drowning himself in you.

Pairing: Pre-War!Cooper Howard x f!escort!reader

Chapter warnings: mentions of depression, angst, joking about cowboys in a sexy way ig??, thigh touching, alcohol consumption, brief allusions to masturbation (m)

Words: 3k

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my Cooper fic! I am so excited I was finally able to finish it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 Link

Cooper had grown used to the emptiness of his apartment. It was significantly smaller than his mansion in Los Angeles. He missed his garden and being able to spend hot summer days in the sun, enjoying a drink while he watched Janey play with Roosevelt.

The divorce wasn’t kind to him. When the entire process had first started, he had been trying to play it cool. Keep his composure, go on with his life as if nothing had happened – but that just didn’t work for him. His job used to be his anchor, but even that was a thing of the past now, considering that barely any studio wanted to affiliate themselves with a Vault-Tec sympathiser. None of them knew what he did after all. He didn’t even want to know what would happen if he brought the things he knew – or at least assumed about Vault-Tec – to the press and therefore to the public. Maybe everyone would call him crazy on top of it all.

But he couldn’t really risk his own life and more importantly Barb and Janey’s just to maybe have a chance at bringing an evil company down. If anything Barb had told him about the Vaults were true then he hoped that she and Janey would be safe when the bombs will fall. It wasn’t a question of ‘What iff’ for him anymore. He knew it would happen sooner or later. Somehow, he seemed to know it in his bones. And the political situation wasn’t really making him feel more positive about the whole ordeal.

In all the sitcoms and movies, they never seemed to talk about the emptiness one could feel after a divorce. His new apartment seemed empty despite the new furniture. The only beacon of hope he had was Roosevelt, but even the food from his fridge didn’t seem to taste the same. Cooper hadn’t been heartbroken since he finished High School. He never had the time for it and his marriage had eventually been just as he had always dreamed as a child. Barb and him rarely argued. Until it all slowly came to an end. Coop didn’t know how to live on his own anymore.

He was surviving off a few small gigs at parties, always donning his iconic cowboy outfit. Of course, he wasn’t oblivious to the whispers behind his back.

‘Look what he has to resort to now..’

‘That is Cooper Howard?’

Cooper tried to shut all their voices out of his head. He had enough to worry about already. Paying his aliments to Barb, paying his rent, trying to stay afloat – somehow.

If his days were lonely, all of his nights spent alone seemed to be even worse. That’s where he had time to think and he didn’t want to think about everything that was going on around him. His cigarettes and the whiskey stored in his fridge quickly became his best friends during all those lonely nights. But they still didn’t fill the gaping hole he seemed to carry in his chest. Everything felt meaningless. Life was only a combination of small moments anymore.

All the good moments he had were the days with his daughter, but there was nothing else that could really make Cooper feel happy or fulfilled.

He craved the feeling of waking up next to a woman again. To feel her kiss him in the morning and to touch her body. This almost reminded him of how he felt as a green teenager, when he had only dreamed about having someone at his side.

It wasn’t really a surprise to him that his hand didn’t feel the same as a woman’s touch did. Gosh, he even rummaged through a few boxes to pull up old pornographic holo-tapes, but even those didn’t really do it for him anymore. At least now how they used to in the past.

His next decision was really a manifestation of his desperation.

Coop stared at the newspaper on his kitchen counter. There were several ads on the page and one of them was able to offer just what he wanted. He took a deep breath, staring at the phone on his wall and then turning his gaze back to the number on the paper.

His last gig had paid rather well and he thought that calling a sex worker might fill the hole in his chest for just a few hours. A few years ago, he could have never imagined going this far, but… he was lonely – and desperate in a way. Sex would take his mind off things and give him enough of an illusion for one night. More than the whiskey could.

“It’s worth a try...” He mumbled to himself and then started to type the number into his phone.

Business had been quiet the last few days. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint why that might be, but you were glad when a call came in eventually. Sex work wasn’t really something society seemed to be proud of, but you knew the numbers of lonely men that called your and other women’s numbers were significantly higher than most people would expect.

It wasn’t just you working here. Multiple women operated under the “Sweet Nights” brand. You were just a small part in the great scheme of things.

Your work certainly paid enough for you to entertain a decent, but not overly luxurious life in Los Angeles. Your small apartment was nothing compared to the big mansions up in Beverly Hills. Yet it was enough.

The red lipstick stood in contrast to your black dress, correcting its straps around your shoulders as soon as Jimmy, the manager of “Sweet Nights”, informed you of your next client. This would be the first and the last for your day, considering that it had been a pretty quiet week night for everyone. On the weekend, calls were more much frequent and you could sometimes do three clients in one day.

Every girl here had different prices. You were somewhere in the middle. Most middle-class men were able to book you, but sometimes, a man wanted to take you out for more than just sex for which you were able to demand a higher price. If you were honest, you preferred that to the simple act of offering sex and then leaving again. You certainly didn’t want to turn down a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant which was probably the best part your job had to offer.

“Is Alan going to drive me?” You asked. Alan was the driver you had worked with the most so far. He was always in a good mood and often enough, he even lifted yours as well. You would share a cigarette or two before or after a client and he’d sometimes even drive you bring some food for you to enjoy after work. Alan was probably your best friend in this business, if you thought about all the people you’ve encountered so far. You got along well with some other women in here as well, but you couldn’t call those intimate friendships.

Sustaining a relationship was also not an easy task given the nature of your job. So far, you hadn’t really been that lucky to find a man accepting of your situation, but you were of the firm belief that you could never know what was going to happen in the future.

“I think so. You still have half an hour, so take it slow.” Jimmy was always kind to you as well, but he did have the attitude of a businessman. Nothing made him more happy than seeing the cash flow in and while you were always on time and working hard, you had seen him treat other women differently – especially the ones that weren’t on time and not bringing in a lot of money.

You had been working at the “Sweet Nights” establishment for multiple years, so you had generated a few regular clients with time. For a man like Jimmy, there was rarely anything better. It meant a steady cash flow and for you, it meant being able to spend time with people you already knew in a way and they usually didn’t make you uncomfortable at all. However, getting attached was strictly forbidden. You didn’t want to breach the border between your professional life and your private one.

Jimmy took his leave rather quickly then, leaving you to your preparations. You made sure to take your birth control before you were heading out, not wanting to risk forgetting it on accident if you were to stay the night at the client’s.

Alan was already waiting for you at the door when you made your way to the car. “Hello, beautiful,” he greeted you, placing a small kiss on the back of your hand before he helped you into the passenger seat of the black car.

Soft jazz music was playing through the radio as you drove to the client’s apartment. It wasn’t too far away from the “Sweet Nights” establishment as you were able to arrive there in under ten minutes. The apartment block in front of you looked simple and it made you quite certain that your client was probably part of the middle class. You had been to fancier homes, but it felt good to be able to ring a bell without going through two security checks on your way inside.

Alan always took his time to wait until you were safely inside. There had been a few times where a client didn’t open the door and your friend drove you home instead.

But this wouldn’t be one of those nights.

When you pushed against the door, it opened for you. You turned around briefly to wave goodbye at your driver, before heading up the stairs to the apartment on the second floor. The sound of your high heels echoed off the beige walls and as you looked up the staircase, you could already see a man waiting by the apartment door.

You always tried to meet your clients without any specific expectations towards them, but when the man came fully into view, you could feel your heart skip a beat. This wasn’t just any man. This was Cooper Howard.

Ex-Movie Star and a new favourite topic in every local gossip magazine. You had read about his divorce as it was almost impossible to avoid the matter these days. Additionally, you were pretty sure you had seen just about every movie he had ever starred in.

“Good evening,” you greeted him, the smile coming to you quite easily as you thought of the fond memories you had from watching his movies. Cooper extended his hand to you almost immediately, shaking it in a gentle manner. “Good evening to you too. Feel free to come inside.” His smile was a polite one as he stepped to the side and let you in.

His apartment clearly wasn’t anything you expected from America’s most famous cowboy, but you knew times were probably a bit rougher for him now. There were a few paintings along the hallway wall, but the interior was nothing fancy. It wasn’t cheap either, but your job had brought you to many Hollywood mansions before and this apartment didn’t have even the slightest resemblance to any of them.

Cooper walked past you slowly. After so many years of working as an escort, you could tell that this was his first time. He looked a little lost, shy even. You were not here to judge about it though, you were here to make him feel good.

“Would you like something to drink? Wine perhaps?” You followed him into the kitchen, watching him as he let his hands restlessly move over the edge of the kitchen island. His face was still displaying the same smile he had greeted you with, but there was clearly a nervousness to his eyes. They were frantically moving from the counter to you and back again.

“Wine is good. I don’t really have a preference,” you assured him with a smile, leaning against the other side of the counter. He gave you a quick nod before he looked for two wine glasses and searched through a small cupboard to retrieve a new bottle for you both.

When the two glasses were filled, you leaned forward a little, supporting yourself against the counter as you looked at the man with a smirk. Cooper pushed your glass over to you, pointing at the living room next door then. “How about you… join me on the couch?”

His voice sounded strained and his hold around the glass seemed a little concerning for its fragility, but you didn’t hesitate to give the movie star an approving nod. “I would love to, Mr Howard.”

You could tell he tensed up a little at the mention of his name, so you quietly took note of that.

“Call me Cooper,” he offered, leading you into the small living room. While he sat down on the far left end of the couch, you didn’t bother to sit down on the opposite end. Instead, you got comfortable right next to him, a quick invitation that he could touch you if he wanted.

And Cooper did want to. But his mind was clouded with many things. This experience was completely new to him, but you were absolutely gorgeous in that black dress and he was very curious to see what was underneath it. He was only a man too after all, but–

You clinked your wine glass against his and he was pulled back into the reality of things. His eyes drifted over your body, a hint of longing appearing in them and you could feel yourself smile a little more at that. Cooper wasn’t showing you disinterest, but you could feel the insecurity inside him.

This job brought you close to many different people and you would be a fool to assume that Cooper wasn’t struggling with the divorce. This wasn’t a rare scenario at all – many men were asking for your services when they wanted to fill the hole left behind by their beloved wives.

While you took the first sip from your wine, you made sure to keep eye contact up with Cooper. It was enough to send a cold shiver down his spine and let his free hand claw at the arm rest of the couch.

He took a sip from his drink as well, before placing the glass down on the small table in front of him.

His lips parted for a moment, ready to form words, but you were quick to place a hand on his arm. Just a gentle touch. Not too much if he didn’t want it yet. “I know this is your first time. I can tell. And… we can do it all in whatever pace you’d prefer.”

For a moment, the man seemed a little surprised by your words, but his expression quickly changed to a softer one. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m–”

What was he even trying to say? Cooper didn’t want to come across as an inexperienced teenager or the like, but he also didn’t want to seem too desperate. Even though he was. His body was clearly desperate.

“It’s alright.” Maybe a little bit of light conversation might help him, so you took the time to let your eyes wander over his appearance. His brown hair was brushed back neatly and it definitely looked like he had shaved this morning. There was a simple, but beautiful ring adorning his finger, but you were sure it was not his former wedding band. His beige pants and the dark blue sweater were a lot more casual than your own outfit, but you had always been sure that Cooper Howard would look good in anything.

Would his movies be a good topic to start with? Tell him that you were a fan?

“I’ve loved your movies for years, you know?”

The look in his eyes changed. His curiosity seemed to give way to disappointment and hurt. Probably the wrong topic. Too sensitive or too personal.

Your throat seemed to tighten and you were ready to apologise when Cooper interrupted you.

“Isn’t it a strange thought that… I’m now asking you to have sex with me in a way?” His eyebrows were pushed together in confusion and you didn’t know how to answer at first.

Of course, it wasn’t what you had expected, but saying you were displeased with the idea would be a lie.

“No. It’s exciting, actually. Maybe cowboys have always been my thing.”

Cooper’s laugh was quite infectious. He had a big smile, a beautiful one too. His shoulders seemed to relax a little and he eventually put an his arm on the couch behind you.

“What’s the saying? Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” His voice had grown a little deeper and while you were still able to watch his right hand hold tightly onto the arm rest next to him, a little bit of doubt had probably left him.

You decided to weigh in on that.

“I would never say no to a man like you, of course. Definitely worth saving that horse.”

Another laugh.

For the first time in a while, the harmless banter seemed to clear his mind off a few worries. Yes, it was a sensitive topic, but you approached it with enough ease that it didn’t seem all that awful anymore to Cooper.

His left hand eventually moved down to your thigh, gently holding onto it as he searched for your eyes again.

And before you could really think a lot about it, you kissed the former movie star, maybe a little too eager.

Yet he was all for it. Your lips felt like a relief he hadn’t experienced in a long time and as he leaned in for more, he was certain that if nothing else could drown out the worries in his mind, your lips would surely be able to quiet his thoughts – even if it was just temporary.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard fanfic #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #cooper howard headcanons #cooper howard imagine #prewar!cooper #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout show #fallout amazon #fallout tv series #fallout series #walton goggins

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foreverisntenough · 7 months ago

Text

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) mentions of pregnancy, love bombing, occasionally sad, kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 29 - ‘You’re Mine’

You rang in the new year at George’s house with a bonfire. You couldn’t really do anything grander because Liverpool had a game the next day which was fine by you. You stood in the back garden as a bunch of boys fumbled around trying to light fireworks in time for the clock to strike. It was disastrous so you kept your Trent away from it all. Your hands hung around his waist. His one hand caressed your neck, his thumb moving over your skin, the other brushed across your flushed cheek.

“Somehow, I think you’ll look even more beautiful next year.” Trent cooed looking longingly into your eyes. You blushed hearing his words. You squeezed him a little tighter. Your nails dug into his jumper.

“You think?” You cooed back, nuzzling your cold nose into his neck. You hid your face between his hoodie and warm skin. The smell of cedar embers circulating.

“You manage to every day… think a whole new year on you will just be…wow. The most beautiful girl in the world.” He whispered into your hair. You pulled away as you heard a spark fizzle. You looked at his face dimly lit from the fires flames. He was stunning. You picked your hand up off his waist and rubbed your thumb over his high cheekbone as the first firework successfully went off. The illumination scattering across the night sky. Both his hands came to cup your cheeks. He pressed a heavy kiss against your plump lips. He pulled away with a cheeky grin. The colors from the fireworks washed over his face. The contours and highlights of it turning blue and green. He looked beautiful like that.

“Happy New Year.” You giggled before you pulled him into another kiss.

“Happy New Year, baby. I love you.” He smiled, speaking close as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Think this will be our year.” You beamed as a red light cast over your face now. He pressed another soft kiss on your lips. He began to litter your entire face with them. You couldn’t not giggle. He loved hearing your hiccuped sounds interspersed with the thunderous fireworks, shouts of friends, a muffled speaker, and the crackle of the fire. He pulled you in closer to him, your body flush against his.

“I think so too.” He whispered with his lips moving to your ear. The warmth of his breath making you shiver. He worked kisses down your jaw, over your cheek, to your lips before he gave you a goofy smile smacking an incredibly wet messy kiss on your lips hearing another boom! go off.

“Okay! Okay! I want to watch them, T. Stop!” You fell into more giggles shoving your hands flat against his chest. His hands pulled your body even closer as you attempted to move away, twisting your head away from him. Squirming to avoid another kiss.

“Gimme a kiss first. C’mon, pretty girl. Just one then you can watch.” He begged, pouting his lips at you. His eyes pooled into the deep brown puppy dog eyes he knew would have you in the palm of his hands immediately.

“No fair.” You gave him a mirror of his pout back before giving him a sweet peck. He chuckled under his breath a little knowing very well the capability and effect of his gaze and so the new year began just like that.

“It’s fucking freezing. I hate the rainnn.” You complained. You sat in the stands at Anfield with Tyler and George as the minutes of Trent’s match ticked by.

“And yet you moved to Liverpool? To England?” George cackled laughing at how ridiculous you sounded.

“You’re absolutely insane.” Tyler echoed with a similar laugh. They couldn’t help but make fun of you complaining about the rain but you were cold and you couldn’t help it. They were just being annoying.

“No, I’m just in love with him.” You tried to defend your move ignoring them as your eyes followed Trent running down the pitch striking a particularly good shot on target. You groaned watching the goalie tip it over the bar.

“Booooo” Tyler pinched at you ignoring the play and focusing on teasing you about how obsessed you were with his brother. You sat leaning forward resting with your elbows on your knees.

“Oh my days. You’re actually embarrassing for him.” George smirked watching you as your eyes filled with love hearts glued to Trent. You remained steadfast in your plan to ignore them mocking you so you just kept your gaze on the pitch and the very pretty sweaty boy in a red jersey until the ninety plus minutes ran out. You moved inside to the much much warmer box to wait for him like you always do. You watched the rain continue to pour down into the emptying stadium. It made you a little sad for some reason like in that moment you felt alone despite the box being filled with family and friends. You stared a little longer before a pair of cold hands wrapping around your waist made you jump.

“Shit! You scared me, baby” you yelped giggling relieved to see it was Trent behind you. You couldn’t suppress the laugh your heart was beating too fast.

“You expecting someone else?” He joked, squeezing you a little tighter, peppering some kisses onto your neck. You hummed not feeling so alone anymore. The two of you in your own world for the moment looking at the rain splatter against the seats outside.

“We’re still going to yours?” George came over, his hand gripping Trent’s shoulder. Trent nodded with a hum.

“Ready?” You gave Trent the same response: a nod with a hum. You walked hand in hand to the car park. You listened to Trent babble about the game and you just watched his animated face move. He was excited about the win, you couldn’t blame him.

“Proud of you” you cooed quietly holding his hand in his lap while he drove you home.

“Yeah?” He asked earnestly.

“Everytime.” You said before leaning over the center console in the car to peck his cheek. When you pulled up to a traffic light he looked at you with a cheeky smile. “What?” You giggled.

“Real one please.” He rolled his bottom lip and threw doe eyes in your direction. You leaned over again and his hand came to caress your cheek. His lips melted into yours. He tasted like honey. The sound of the rain on the hood of the car was the perfect soundtrack. You felt contentment run through your veins until it clotted when the car behind yours honked, the green light filling the car as you opened your eyes.

After their game, a gaggle of boys funneled into your house. The noise reverberated through the whole structure. It kind of depended on the night but more often than not you would just let them wreak havoc; it was loud, messy, it could be gross, just boys being boys, you don’t know, you just let them be. Ironically it felt like after a win they were even more chaotic. Tonight was no different. It was always Trent, his brothers, George, Curtis and then a revolving door of any other friends or teammates that decided to come. You were more than welcome but the essence of the night was always a very ‘lads on tour’ vibe. Opting to avoid all that for the evening, you popped upstairs as you had promised your sister you’d give her a call. She could hear the ruckus from downstairs and asked if you were okay with a laugh. After you assured her it was a bunch of millionaire little boys playing, you spoke with her for a while until she had to go. You hung up and still could still hear the tv playing something but couldn’t quite make it out, which made it that much more annoying. You tried to lay in your bed but you felt really needy for some reason. Like you had been left alone for weeks. You missed Trent. There was an innate feeling of clinginess, a longing just to be close to him pumping through your nervous system, like his proximity would be the only thing able to calm it. You pouted and tried to distract yourself but it did nothing to ease the sensation, nothing worked. You still missed him. You sent Trent a text asking where he was. Yes, you could freely go and look around your house but you were being lazy and didn’t feel like aimlessly following the shouting boys. He quickly told you where he was with a cheeky ‘come see me 😉’ at the end and so you did. You jogged down the stairs in a pair of black leggings and a little white tank top making your way to the room. Your tits freely bouncing, you probably could’ve changed or at least thrown on a bra. Anyways, you could feel a warmness fill your chest as you heard his voice specifically isolated coming from down the hall. Thankfully Trent was sitting far back in the room close to the door so you snuck in quietly. The room was dark except for the massive screen emitting blue light. He didn’t see you come in until you collapsed on top of him. He grunted feeling your body weight suddenly, his face wincing at the abruptness. Not a single person in the room turned round. He adjusted quickly and a grin pulled across his face.

“Hello you.” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips as you smiled up to him. Wrapping your arms around his strong body softened into a lounger. You squeezed him tight as you nestled into him. “Coming to bother me?” He giggled some watching you lazily kiss his chest. You nodded a ‘no’ and his laugh continued. “Oh alright. Just felt like coming to lay completely on top of me. Hmm?” He whispered to you. You smirked, continuously kissing over his shirt.

“I thought you liked me on top of you.” You deviously looked up at him with a flirty grin. He laughed to himself shaking his head.

“I do.” He whispered again. His big hands coming to palm your ass. He gripped it and pulled you up his body that way. “C’mere. Gimme a big kiss.” You bit your lip feeling his hands on you. This is what you came downstairs for. You nodded before you pressed your lips into his. You both giggled like you were in year 7 sneaking the kiss.

“Ms.America, how are we?” You heard a voice in the dark room from over closer to the screen. One head turned, it was Curtis. He looked at you while the others stayed slouched in their seats. Your giggles and the sound of a kiss were a dead give away you had come into the room. You hide your face in Trent’s neck.

“Good” you muffled out. No one really cared and you were fine with that. All the boys were distracted by a video game being played.

“Trenski, you’re supposed to play next, can you focus with Y/N in the room?” Tyler looked back at Trent a while later. Trent looked down at you then back at him and smirked

“Probably not but I’ll give it a go.” He responded, picking up a game controller. You shivered on top of him. You were cold in your little tank top. As he began the game he couldn’t have both hands on you anymore to provide any warmth so you slipped off him to go get a blanket quietly but you were halted abruptly half way there.

“No… absolutely not, put it back.” George yelped out as you walked over to a basket with throw blankets.

“Excuse me?” You giggled looking at him genuinely shocked.

“No, because last time…” he started talking

“It was one time!” Trent interrupted him yelling from the back of the room. His eyes didn’t move from their focus on the game but he was conscious of the conversation unfolding. What Trent and George were referring to was a time a few people came over after a night out. You were drunk, everyone was, but you particularly. You fumbled into the cinema room and everyone gradually started falling asleep as a shitty movie play. You did not. You were eager and adamant about having sex. Trent finally caved in a moment of weakness under the influence of too many drinks and your touch. You hid under a blanket and moved slow and quiet biting back moans, gasping silently. In your mind the act was subtle. George felt otherwise he was nearby and didn’t love that, he loved you both, but this… this was too far. About 15 minutes in he finally snapped and groaned out a ‘please fucking stop’ eliciting laughter from you and Trent stopping your movements immediately. You all moved on but George evidently was not taking any chances with you, Trent, and a blanket in the cinema room anymore.

“One time too many, thank you…” he croaked out sinking back into his seat. You held your hands up in innocence and returned to Trent with a sad face dramatizing how cold you were.

“C’mere” Trent cooed as you got closer to him. He pulled off his jumper and handed it to you, helping you put it on. It was exactly what you needed. It was warm, it smelt like him, it was just the perfect type of oversized. You cuddled back into him while he continued on with his game. You got a little bored to be honest and found yourself mindlessly kissing his neck. Trent tipped his head to one side to give you more room at first enjoying the feeling of your lips on him and the action shifted something inside of you. You wanted him now. Your kisses became more intimate and intentional. Sucking on him, your tongue brushing over bruising skin. He regretted giving you the space almost immediately. He got sidetracked for a moment and made a mistake in the game.

“Trent if you fuck up again… oh my days!” George yelled back at him.

“Bro… I will drag Y/N out of this room right now.” Marcel threatened him. Trent yessed them and shook his head before one of his massive hands came and squished your cheeks together pushing your lips out. He held your face with one hand.

“Enoughhhhh” he dragged the word out and threw a serious glare at you quickly. You giggled a little which made him smile but you knew he was serious. You probably could sway him but you didn’t want to ruffle any feathers with George and Marcel so you stopped and got comfortable again on his chest. It was getting late and you kept dozing in and out of sleep on his chest, awoken every so often by the boys shouting at each other or the screen. He held you close to him as you slid your hand under his shirt and dragged your nails gently over his abs. He purred a little at the sensation and kissed your hair. It was all fairly innocent but the neediness you felt early was persistent as it came storming back.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if I could just keep your cock warm inside me right now?” You whispered out of the blue into Trent’s ear. His eyes widened. His breath hitched. Your teeth nibbling and pulling on his earlobe.

“Oh my goddd” he groaned but equally as quiet back to you feeling his cock start to harden. It resulted in him making another mistake in the video game.

“Trent! Fuck brother… you’re off.” George yelled at him again not putting up with his inability to focus right now and so Trent was done with the game for the moment to your delight, his hands fell back on you.

“Would you want to be inside my pussy right now?” You cooed hushed and sensually against his ear again. Your lips pressing light kisses on him raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Jesus, baby” he groaned again. Trent’s cock had gone completely hard underneath you and you felt it twitch with each of your last words. He usually had control in sexual situations so in scenarios like this when you temporarily had the upper hand you were going to exploit it. It would probably bite you in the ass later but that didn’t stop you, in fact it only spurred you on.

“I'm so wet, T. You could just slip right in.” You moaned, licking the shell of his ear pushing your hips into him. That was the final straw from him.

“Alright…” he grunted. “You gotta get up. Go away.” He shook his head, rattled by how turned on he was and the amount of restraint he was having to practice in the boy filled room. He needed you away from him while everyone was still over. He picked your body off his fairly harshly and you squirmed in his arms.

“Nooo, please” you whined with a faux pout. He started to laugh thinking of how he was going to get back at you for what you just did and the hard on you were leaving him with.

“Get away from me… go sit over there.” He shooed you over to go sit on a couch with Marcel

“Nah, don’t want your clingy ass.” Marcel quipped overhearing the last bit of Trent’s sentence seeing him gesture towards where he was sitting. He was kidding and you knew that but you furrowed your brows anyway at him and sat in spite of his comment putting your feet up and proceeding to push him with them. He shook his head with a smile ignoring you.

“Baby…. Are you mad at me?” You asked in a suggestive tone. Your finger ran over the thin silver chain on his neck. “If you want, we could go to our room and talk.” When all the boys left your house gradually you knew you were in for it and you were begging for your punishment to start. You watched Trent’s eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what his plan was the second you entered the bedroom.

“Yeah, beautiful. Need to talk to you.” He mused as he grabbed your waist and pushed you in front of him as you both walked upstairs. You nodded chewing on your lip. You looked so innocent, so pretty, so desperate and he couldn’t wait to destroy you. When you finally got back to your room you played dumb and asked him some questions before you coyly slid your hand over the bulge in his sweatpants acting as if it was an accident your hand ended up there. He let you manipulate him. You pulled his sweats and boxers down a little and let his incredibly hard cock spring out. You looked at him with faux innocence before you lowered yourself down onto your knees in front of him. You took his cock’s full length in your mouth instantaneously. Trent was lost in the sensation of your lips and tongue as he gripped some of your hair forcing you to take more of him. The feeling of your warm throat had him reeling. He felt so fucking good, you felt so fucking good. Your hands gingerly massaged his balls. You hummed seeing the pleasure on his face, the flush coming over him. The vibration felt so good on him he needed to keep his hands on your head to steady himself. He suddenly stopped you and pulled his cock from your mouth when he thought he was getting close. A string of saliva stuck to you and his cock.

“Baby.. you didn’t…” you whimpered a little out of breath.

“I know I want to somewhere else, need to get you pregnant. Hmm?” your heart skipped at his words but also his handsome, disheveled look when he picked you up off the ground and threw you on the bed, you gasped. His hands busied themselves taking off his clothes and then yours. Your clothes were left discarded on the bedroom floor fast. He dimmed the lights of the room leaving only the natural lighting from outside to shower the space before he walked back over to you. You spread your legs cheekily and scooted backwards giving him a good view of you as he crawled towards you. His eyes were fixed on your glistening pussy. The tips of his fingers gently but eagerly ran through your folds letting your slick coat his fingers.

“Oh my god, baby, you're already soaked f’me. Do you need me to touch you?" You nodded, not able to play your game anymore. His fingers on your pussy wiped everything else from your brain but the thought of him. He groaned seeing you squirm as he began to swirl circles around your clit. The smirk on his face let you know immediately you were probably in trouble. “Can’t wait to fill you up until you're pregnant." You felt your high fast approaching as his fingers worked mercilessly against your sensitive bud. It was just when you felt yourself about to tip over the edge that Trent removed his fingers depriving you of what no doubt would’ve been a very very good orgasm. You were frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty all for him. You couldn’t stop your hips from trying to grind back down onto his hands now gripping the inside of your thighs.

“T… please, come on, baby, I need you so badly." You whined as he stuck his fingers abruptly into your entrance. You gasped out. His thick fingers curled to hit the right spot inside of you only he knew. You were leaking all over his hand, unable to coherent thoughts. You tried to reach for his cock frantically just wanting to feel Trent. Wishing he would stuff you full but he wouldn’t let you even get close. As another high came rushing towards its climax you felt his finger slip right out and not return. “Please… I’m sorry. Please please fuck me.” He popped his drenched fingers in his mouth and his cock throbbed at the addicting taste of your pussy. That was enough to stop the teasing he now needed you just as bad.

“Gonna be a good girl now? Hmm? I’ll give you what you want, okay?” He teased with a smug look as you desperately nodded before he rolled your body over. You shifted on the bed pushing you face down into the mattress with your ass up for him. You spread your thighs a little for him to see your dripping pussy. He laughed a little at your distress and desire. He pumped his cock a few times before dragging the tip through your wet folds nudging your clit. His big hands massaging and squeezing the soft skin of your ass. You moaned and squirmed at the sensation before he started to slide his cock inside of you.

"Holy shit...fuuck baby, you feel so goddamn good. Squeezing me so tight" he hissed as his fingers dug into your plump ass as he gave you inch after inch. When you finally took all of him he began slow. Each thrust of his hit deeper and more powerful than the next as his pace began to pick up. The thickness of his cock hitting every part of you you were craving. You were moaning senselessly. He pulled your body up back to his by your neck. His hands sliding to massage your tits as they bounced only causing you to arch your back more. “Look so fucking beautiful f’me like this. Gonna make a mess f’me?” He could feel your pussy tighten with his words. You felt yourself gush all over his cock. All the teasing building up to this moment becoming too much to manage holding anything in. He watched his cock slide seamlessly in and out of you covered in your slick. He was so fucking addicted to you, to this feeling, this sight. This was all he ever wanted. He kept hammering into your g spot repeatedly with his cock as you cried out for a long time until your stomach began to tighten again. Suddenly your pussy spasmed. His pace only quickening.

“You feel so fucking good, baby. Fuck. Fuck. Please cum inside me” you begged desperately, grinding back against him causing him to swear under his breath. His thrusts began to get sloppy. He groaned your name out before he emptied into you. God, it felt so good and so hot. His pulsating cock inside you stilling with his cum filling you up made you both almost dizzy. He pulled out and you rolled over feeling totally spent but Trent had other plans. He looked down seeing your pussy leaking his cum and it made his brain short circuit. He climbed over you with fire in his eyes. He pushed your legs over his shoulders as he slid his cock and his cum back inside you.

“This pussy was made for me. Fucking perfect.” He grunted slowly building up his pace back until he was fucking you senselessly again the noises in the bedroom were so lewd. The sound of your pussy squelching with his cum and your own slick. Your brain turned to mush. His hand slid down to your throbbing clit. He moved in perfect tight circles that had your mouth agape trying not to drool but it was so difficult to do much of anything. You just let him have his way with you. Trent’s big hand moved off your clit to come and squish your cheeks with force like he did earlier in the cinema. Your eyes widened and then shut closed as he thrusted particularly deep.

“Oh fuck! Right there, T. Please fuck I’m so close!” You yelped out. You were close to crying he made you feel so good. You wanted to be fucked like this for the rest of your life. Suddenly your orgasm rocked you. You felt your body tremble and almost give out. You were seeing white. Your eyes rolled back, you thought you might pass out from it.

“You look so fucking hot right now. I love seeing you like this. All for me. All mine.” His cock twitched inside you aching to release. He slammed his lips against yours falling into a messy messy makeout. “Fuck, You’re so hot when you cum for me, baby. Be a good girl and take it f’me. Got me so fucking horny earlier need to fuck you just like this.” He moaned into your mouth when he couldn’t hold on anymore. His cum started to fill you up again. He could feel his cock’s length pulsating inside of you as you both reached your highs. You clung to him desperately.Trent continued to thrust into you keeping the pleasure flowing through your over sensitive, spent body beneath him.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m all yours. Holy shit” you said muffled when you buried your face in his neck. You both shut your eyes, panting, sweating, as he stilled inside your pussy. He grabbed your chin and pulled you off his neck and to him for a passionate kiss. He nibbled on your lip lazily before he let go. “T…” you whined, reaching up to caress his sweaty cheek. You were quiet for a little both absolutely exhausted but Trent broke it after a good amount of time with a hearty laugh.

“I love you so fucking much. You’re amazing, beautiful.” Pressing another kiss to your lips before rolling off to the side of you. He pulled your limp body back into his. He peppered kisses onto your hair. You cuddled up to him so comfortable, so full, so tired.

“Sleep” you muttered out, only able to manage one word. Your eyes were heavy. Your minimal vocabulary had his laughter filling your quiet bedroom. The hot air and his heart beat lulling you to sleep before he kissed you gently good night.

Joke or not, Marcel was right the other night. You were feeling so clingy to him. You clung to Trent doing everything he did lately. Something was just different about the way you felt towards him. Liverpool had made it out of the group stages of the champions league so they continued on with their European quest and that meant more traveling for Trent. A disastrous feeling took over for you knowing he’d be away for days at a time again.

“They don’t need you, I do.” You whined sitting on the floor of your wardrobe while watching Trent pack for an away game trying to help but really just folding and refolding items to elongate the process. You weren’t serious well.. maybe you were a little.

“Wow… don’t think I’m an important player in the squad?” he feigned being hurt by your words.

“Stop!” You cried out. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I just meant I need you, baby.” You got up off the floor and placed the shirt you were folding on the counter before wrapping your arms around him, squeezing tight. You rolled your lip and looked up at him.

“Are you okay baby?” Trent asked, looking down at you sympathetically. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice the changes in your behavior lately, particularly your attachment to him. “You’ve been…” he paused. He wasn’t sure how to phrase this. You looked up at him inquisitively doe eyed. “I don’t know, I’m not against it or anything… I’ve just noticed you’ve been really needy lately.” Your face dropped causing his face to drop instantaneously.

“Needy…?” you felt like you were going to cry. It was one thing for you to know you felt needy but for Trent to call you that was another. You felt so hurt and honestly a bit annoyed. You could feel your heart pounding as he said a word you wished you’d never hear from him.

“Like clingy or… fuck! Oh my days.” He groaned frustrated with himself. “I don’t mean it like that.” He panicked trying to rectify the situation but managed to only make it worse.

“I actually feel sick.” You quivered out, getting your hands off him immediately and stepping away quicker somehow. You could see fear wash over him in slow motion. Normally, you could take something like this in stride and have a bit more perspective to understand that he didn’t mean it in a negative way and to his defense something in your behavior had changed but right now this comment was wounding. You felt nauseous. You’d been feeling sick a lot lately but you just put it down to a common cold going around. That feeling came over you intensely right now suddenly though. You walked out of the room abruptly. Trent took a step to follow you but knew it would probably make it worse so he waited a few minutes.

“Baby…” he cooed when he finally came to find you. You sat on the ledge of your bathtub. Your face looking drained. “I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean it that way. My words got all tangled up. You’re not needy. And if you ever were I’d love every second of it. I love to be needed by you, beautiful. Hmm?”

“I know.” You murmured out so quiet he could barely hear you. You couldn’t pick your head up to look him in the eyes. You didn’t feel strong enough so he did it for you. His hand gently picked your head up with his finger under your chin.

“What’s been going on? Just let me in” he cooed as his other hand stroked up and down your side. You were quiet for a moment.

“I’ve been feeling really shitty. I don’t know, emotionally and physically. Everything feels a mess. I find myself missing you even when you’re right in front of me. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m sorry.” You started to cry and he gave you that soft smile that was comforting and compassionate.

“Hey… you’re okay. Nothings wrong.” He spoke gently as his thumb brushed back and forth over your jaw. “I’m here for you. I’ll take care of you, baby. Just have to tell me what I can do.” He tried so hard to be helpful but to be honest you didn’t know what he could do to help. You went to bed in a comfortable silence. Maybe not as comfortable as it had ever been but it wasn’t awkward. Trent was just being particularly careful around you. Despite it all, he pulled you into his arms tucked under the blankets and you dozed off together for the night.

Unfortunately, when you woke up the next morning you felt worse than you had in the last two weeks. You slinked off the bed and snuck to the bathroom early in the dark room. You only turned one bathroom light on after you had closed the door not wanting to wake Trent. You got sick again and again. You sat on the bathroom floor next to the toilet for what felt like ages. The only way you were going to feel clean again was a shower. You peeled off your clothes and stood under the warm water. You had to brace yourself up against the shower wall because you felt so lightheaded. You started to cry against your will overwhelmed. You felt silly and weak but that only made you cry more. You tried to reign in your gasping breath when the bathroom door opened slowly.

“Baby…” Trent called out sleepily and hesitantly. “You alright?” He walked further into the room and looked at you through the glass of the shower. There really wasn’t a way you were going to hide how upset you were. It was blatantly all over your face and written in your body language. He gave you sad smile and pulled his shirt over his head. He stopped before he took off his boxers. “Can I come in?” You nodded trying not to lock eyes to trigger any more tears. He got in the shower and wrapped you in a tight embrace. You were so close together there was barely any room for you to even speak but you managed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong.” You croaked out between shaky breathes. He only squeezed you tighter silently. Moments like this where you didn’t have to be having sex to feel intimate we’re so important to the foundation of your relationship with him.

“I got you, alright? I’m here.” He whispered. You moved through the motions of the shower slow and your routine after even slower. He engulfed you with a towel drying you off and messily rubbed it over your hair like you were a little kid. You just looked at him and he giggled at his own childish action. He picked you up and your legs wrapped around his waist, your head dropping to rest on his shoulder. He plopped you back onto the bed before another whisper that he’d be right back. He came back with a clean t-shirt of his and pulled it over your head. You tucked back into the bed and cuddled up under the covers again before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He was quiet as he moved around the bedroom getting ready for his day gathering his stuff. Despite feeling so sick you felt incredibly taken care of. You could hear him on the phone when he went back into the wardrobe.

“Do you mind checking in on her? I’m worried and I have to get going soon… yeah… I don’t know, not sure… okay, I’ll do that… alright, thank you…love you mum.”

You had known he was talking to Dianne immediately. You hated that you were worrying him. He came out, dropped his bag by the door and then came over to sit on the edge of the bed next to your frame.

“I don’t like leaving you like this” he cooed, stroking his hand over your face. You gave him a fake smile he didn’t appreciate so he shook his head disapproving. “Will you just call me, baby?” You gave him a quiet yeah that he’d just have to settle for. “You’re gonna watch the game with Marce and that?” You gave him another quiet yeah verbatim. “Alright, I love you so much. I’ll be back soon, yeah?” You felt tears start to build up. So you shut your eyes. His lips came and pressed onto your temple and stayed there for a minute. He mumbled with his lips over your skin saying ‘I love you’ again and again until he pulled away with a silly ‘mwah’ noise. As he was making his way to the door you finally spoke with some volume.

“T…” you managed to quiver out so he turned around instantaneously. He walked back over to you and you reached your hand up to cup his warm cheek. He placed his much larger hand over top of your smaller one. “Have a good match. You’ll do great.” You cooed as he pressed a kiss to your wrist. Mouthing a ‘thank you’ silently to you. “Come back with a win, please, baby.” He laughed some with a genuine toothy grin so you smiled softly back as he got up again.

As expected later on in the day while Trent would’ve been landing with the team, Dianne asked if you had wanted to go to shops with her. To be honest, you didn’t feel like it but you knew not going would cause more of a concern so you went. She kindly picked you up and you drove into the small shopping area in your town.

“Feeling okay hun?” She cooed while walking next to you. You looked over at her and smiled not wanting to lie so you gave her a blanket answer.

“Fine, body’s just been off. There must be a cold going round or something.” You spoke as your eyes scanned a shelf trying not to look back at her. She looked at you sympathetically before putting her hand on your shoulder.

“I haven’t heard anything about one going around.” She smiled at you knowing you were holding back in typical mum fashion. “I’m not going to call and report back, you can tell me” squeezing your shoulder almost letting out a laugh. You relaxed and let out a sigh.

“I could say I stubbed my toe and he’d fly home or something ridiculous .” You giggled looking back at her with a knowing face because Trent would do shit like that for you and she knew it too.

“He just cares, sweetie. What’s going on…” you kept walking down the aisle and she followed close behind. So you finally caved and began to explain your symptoms.

“I just feel really nauseous. Everything is making me sick. I’m exhausted no matter how much I sleep. I’m so fatigued…” you kept rambling. You broke down everything you’d been feeling for the past few weeks.

“Hmm..” she rolled her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows. Her face said it all and you just about fainted. You panicked and felt your legs start to give out so you grabbed onto a display you were stood by subtly.

“It’s nothing!” You cut her off before she could say anything else. “Have you seen these?” You asked, picking something frivolous up at random. Swiftly changing the conversation topic. She smiled at you and let you deviate. You could tell the reminder of your day with her that she was monitoring your movements. When she dropped you off back home later in the evening you bolted upstairs. You immediately ran to your bathroom getting sick again. You sat on the floor and began to cry. The moment had come… between the lingering sickness and other symptoms, Dianne’s intrigue about them, you knew you had to check, all the signs were there and you had been oblivious. The thing was, you were absolutely terrified of both possibilities. You had bought a few boxes of pregnancy tests a while ago to have on hand if you got to a point like this but actually pulling them out of the cupboard felt excruciatingly difficult. You didn’t want to face the heartbreak of a negative without Trent to comfort you but the thought that you may genuinely be with child also scared the shit out of you too. You mustered up some courage and grabbed a test and took it. You propped yourself up against the bathroom wall just mindlessly staring blank around the room with a million possibilities racing through your mind. You set a timer on your phone and placed both that and the test out of sight. When the alarm went off you felt your heart stop and you hesitantly approached it, picking it up with shaky hands. There it was, the infamous blue cross indicating… ‘pregnant.’ You went into shock for a moment. You felt paralyzed. Holy shit…You started crying uncontrollably but when you managed to settle down a little. You remained panicked but conscious so you tried two more tests just in case. You sat, waited… ‘pregnant’, cried and then sat, waited… ‘pregnant’, cried. You felt your legs almost give out your back pressed against the bathroom wall when you stared down at three positive tests. You slid down the wall sitting yourself on the floor. Your emotions were in overdrive. You couldn’t think you were feeling so many things at once you couldn’t decide what to do. One very real thought in your head that seemed to be at the forefront was what the hell was Trent going to say. You were having to see it be so real and tangible in front of you, god the fact that there was a growing human inside you and you began questioning if you were even ready for this. As much as you and Trent wanted this, pushed for this, loved the idea of starting a family… was this going to scare him? What if he ever left you. You would be alone with a baby that constantly would remind you of him. You wouldn’t know what to do. You began to cry more and more, shaking until you heard your phone ring. It was a FaceTime from Trent… you were fucked. Firstly, there was no way in hell you were telling him this news over a FaceTime so you were going to have to lie to him which you never did but also it was evidently clear in your face that you had been balling your eyes out. You scrambled to try to get yourself to look somewhat. It rang and rang until you knew it was getting close to going to voicemail so you gathered yourself best you could and answered.

“Hey beautiful girl…” he paused and his cheery disposition fell immediately upon seeing you. “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” He looked so concerned.

“Hi, baby… yeah just feeling a little off or down I don’t know. Just need to lay down before I go over to watch with Marce.” You said it and all of sudden your stomach dropped. Holy shit, you had to face Trent’s brothers and friends knowing you were pregnant.

“Oh, baby. I am so sorry. Anything I can do from here? I feel terrible I can’t be with you right now. Just want to hold you. I promise I’ll be home soon. I love you so so much.” He babled so fast. He was so worried.

“It’s okay, I appreciate it. Just miss you a lot, pretty boy.” You tried your best to smile. When Trent smiled back seeing yours your heart warmed and one of your hands slid to caress over your stomach. You wanted to tell him. You wanted him here so bad. God, you loved him and you needed him now. “Good luck tonight, baby.” You said pushing your lips out for a virtual kiss with a ‘mwah’ sound.

“Okay, baby. Just take care of yourself for me, okay? Need to keep my perfect girl happy. I always do but tonight playing especially for you. Love you so so so so much. Cannot wait to get back to you. Expect the biggest kiss ever the second I step through that door.” You giggled hearing how cute he was and your mood was starting to lift a little. “Talk to you after the game, baby.” You blew you a kiss and you both ended the call.

A few hours later you found yourself sitting on a couch with Tyler, Marcel, George, two friends of Tyler’s, and one of Marcel’s. Jesus, this felt like a lot of people to be keeping a secret from. You would’ve stayed home but Tyler, Marcel, and George are the type that would’ve driven over to your house and physically gotten you to come be with them so here you were. You watched the game and the anxiety you had about the match itself paired with the fact that mere hours ago you just found out you were fucking pregnant! You were practically shaking.

“You good? You’re not being annoying, awfully quiet.” George joked lightheartedly. He stuck his leg out and reached over to tap at yours. He gave you a more genuine look of interest to let you know despite the joke, he cared.

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired and a little nervous about the match.” You spoke quietly. You sat the whole game just kind of silent only speaking when they talked directly to you. You were on your phone and trying to message your OBGYN to get an appointment asap. It was hard to pay attention but the game entered the second half and Liverpool got a free kick outside the box. It was in really comfortable range for Trent. Your hands gripped a throw pillow squeezing it tight as you watched him take it. It was in real time but it felt like slow motion. It was a beautiful goal scored by an even more beautiful boy. All the boys you were with erupted yelling, high fiving, just celebrating. The best part about the goal aside from it helping to lead Liverpool to victory was his celebration. He ran over to a camera near the corner flag flashing a big smile and made a heart with his hands, blew a kiss and pointed directly into it mouthing a ‘for you, baby’ your heart just melted. You wanted to cry. He had no idea what he was coming home to but he was already making you feel better. He was so adorable. You were chuffed with how cute he was until all the boys in the room turned to look at you and started razzing you with ‘oooOooOo’s and childish comments about ‘sitting in a tree’ all sorts of nonsense.

Even from afar Trent had made you feel better. When you drove home that night and finally settled in he called and you had a mushy conversation exchanging I love yous and can’t wait to see yous, telling him how proud you were of him, that you loved the celebration. When he said he would be back tomorrow morning it triggered a wave of anxiety to come rushing back. You ended your nighttime call with him and started to get ready for bed. You really started to overthink. How were you going to tell Trent when you saw him tomorrow? You could barely sleep trying to plan.

You settled in on his side of the bed that night. You just wanted to get close to him in some facet, his pillows, his scent. In a funny way, Trent’s life wasn’t really even his anymore. You were a rain storm that drenched his whole life all at once and he totally saturated yours. You completely infatuated him from day one in New York and you were besotted before you had even met. You besieged his senses and changed his very being. He turned your life upside down. Every time Trent’s eyes locked with yours and your with his, you both knew that what you had was a bond and love that would last a lifetime. He was yours, you were his, and now you just had to tell him that you were about to have something that would be both of yours together, securing and cementing your connection that much more. You set an alarm clock to get up early tomorrow to prepare for no doubt a day that would change your relationship forever.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Final part 🥺 - Chapter 30 xx

Don’t worry, the sequel ‘Ours’ will be out soon!

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #you’re mine fic #taa x reader #taa66

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junedenim · 2 months ago

Text

2006

beneath the boardwalk, part 4 (series masterlist)

505

warnings: fluff, angst, smut, sobbing, etc.

word count: 11.1k

In a boring fashion, Alex and I spent the winter much like winters' past. Time froze in that corner of our world and lifetimes existed between the drive from Wakefield to High Green. Charlton Brook was experiencing an ice age but we'd still drive out to as close as we could get without getting out of my car.

Alex would be stuffed in several layers of clothing and his hair was always messy but always fell in the right place. We'd make out and I'd mess it up more and it felt like nothing else existed outside of it.

Some unknown song would play quietly in the background (one time "When the Sun Goes Down" played and I refused to let Alex turn it off and he refused to kiss me during it so we sat in silence in the car listening to it) and we'd occupied ourselves with kissing, talking, and playing cards.

We began a tournament in Gin Rummy over my school recess and his touring break. Said tournament has continued since then. We never established a number we were playing to and so we have decided that the winner will be determined in death, however morbid that is. I had the lead that winter but over the summer Alex would overtake me. I seem to do best in winter while Al dominates in summer.

"Are we boring?" I asked him.

"Hmm?"

"We've grown old and boring. We're playing Gin Rummy in my car at 11 AM."

He chuckled. "We've always been this way, Janie. We used to sit in a room and write in silence. It was glorified old married couple."

I wanted to ask him if he thought we'd be an old married couple, instead, I asked, "How do you think we'd be as an old married couple?"

He shrugged and discarded an ace. "I don't think we'd be boring. Maybe settled. But we'd always have something interesting. Even if music fails and you give up on writing—which I'd never allow—I can't imagine us not being the intelligent fun couple. Maybe I'd be boring but you never."

"With all my neuroses?"

"Of course," he over-enthusiastically said. "But you're too interesting and funny to be boring."

"Same to you."

"Even if I was, I'll be the old guy who sits in the corner and doesn't say anything. You'll have to do all the talking for me."

I laughed. "I'm fine with that." We shared a smile and I knew I'd love him forever, even if we crashed and burned, he'd always be my first love. "You know the thing you said about being intelligent?"

"Yeah?"

"Clearly you aren't." I scooped up his discarded ace and put down my ace three-of-a-kind and then placed my last card face down. With a smug look, I said, "Gin."

He threw his head back after watching the whole scene. "Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have done that. I knew—I knew you had to have had the other aces. Fuck."

One afternoon, the snow was thick and we deemed it too heavy to drive around in, which conveniently meant Alex would likely stay the night. In my room, Alex and I sat around in our routine of playing cards and listening to the radio. I had the fuzzy socks he got me for Christmas, which might seem like a cheap Christmas gift (it was) but back in our tour bus summer I had mentioned it to him and he had clearly noted it.

I was shuffling the deck of cards and he was rubbing my feet after I insisted the foot rub would help them warm up. The radio was soft and for the whole morning, the house had been quiet, which should have been the warning alarm.

A loud crash rang from downstairs followed by my parents' loud yelling. I rolled my eyes and fell backward onto my rug. "There goes a peaceful afternoon," I said.

"Do you want to sneak out of here?" He asked. Alex had never witnessed my parents' arguments; they were generally further apart as I grew up because they decided it was best if they never spent any time around each other but when they did occur they were long-winded and brutal.

"Where? It's freezing and it's not like we can walk down through the front door with them yelling there."

"We could go out through your window."

I laughed. "And fall to our death?"

"We might be alright in the snow."

"No, let's just hide out here."

He stood up and turned up the radio. "It's gotta help out a little."

"Thanks."

He hummed along to the song and I giggled. "What an inappropriate song for this moment," I quipped.

He chuckled but shook his head. "Nah, I think it works for us. You know, 'Until the poets run out of rhymes' and all that."

"You're getting all soft on me." I flicked his nose, bashful under his heavy gaze.

"I've always been soft."

"You're gonna do your best to keep me satisfied?"

He jumped up, tackling me down onto the floor. I shrieked to the floor. If he didn't kiss me you would have thought we were wrestling. "Baby I'm Yours" fading in the background as a knock sounded on the door.

Alex rolled off and I muttered an annoyed, "Jesus."

I stood and opened my bedroom door where, thankfully, Stacey stood on the other side. "I need a fallout shelter here," she said. I widened the door. She stepped in and sat on the edge of my bed. "You guys playing cards? God, you're lame."

Alex chuckled. Stacey and he hadn't hung out much but had always gotten along and had a laugh with one another. "You want to play with us?"

She shrugged. "Sure." As I continued shuffling the cards she reamed us out more, saying things like, "If I had a boyfriend we'd be making out all the time."

"Maybe that's why you don't have a boyfriend," I replied. Alex laughed into his elbow not wanting to anger Stacey.

"No!" She insisted. "All the guys at my school are duds."

"You're 14, everyone is supposed to be duds at 14," I told her as I dealt out the cards.

She fought back, ever snippy and snarky. I have no clue where she learned it from... "You had a boyfriend at 14."

"I wish I didn't." Owen Stenison, blonde-haired, brown eyes, and a breath that tasted like tuna.

"You had a boyfriend at 14?" Alex questioned. We didn't often dive into past relationships, likely because I had a much longer list than him. He had two girlfriends before me, neither super serious.

"Yeah, and it was like the hundredth guy she had been with," Stacey mocked.

"Shut up," I bite back.

She held her hands up defensively. "I'm not shaming."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."

"I'm jealous."

"Well, don't be, it wasn't very fun." Is it cheesy to say that I didn't know real love until Alex? Probably. So, I'll just say I hadn't ever had a proper relationship prior to Alex. I had never celebrated a Valentine's Day.

Stacey sighed, "Has to be more fun than being single."

"You're 14 this is the time to be single."

"Bullshit. That's hypocritical from someone in a relationship then and now."

"I wish I had waited."

"Load of shite."

I shrugged. "I don't know. It would've been nice for Alex to be my first boyfriend."

"How virgin pure of you. You're a secret prude."

Alex, watching the exchange from the sidelines, burst out laughing and I rolled my eyes. "Just pick up your cards."

The night before Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not was released, the band performed at The Leadmill. It was bittersweet, the end to a chapter of our lives that likely ended months ago but we knew things would be much different after that day. We'd also be separating yet again, which was no longer atypical.

I spent the concert with Alex's parents and while Stacey expressed a desire to be at the show, she elected to sleep over at a friend's house instead. In retrospect, it isn't shocking for me to consider the show with Penny and David as being fun but it was very unexpected at the time.

After the show when parents departed and drinks flowed, I found Alex outside the bar. He had a half-ashed cigarette in his hand and I questioned his sanity wearing only his hoodie in the Northern England January chill.

"Can I bum one?" I shouted down to him.

It took a moment for him to register it was me, a smile slowly spread across his face as I inched closer. "Depends. What do I get?"

I dug into his pocket, feeling his stomach through the cloth, and took the pack for myself. "My witty repartee."

"Well, in that case." He sparked his lighter and burned my end for me.

I leaned beside him on the wall. My head against the cold bricks. "What are you doing out here?"

He grinned down at his feet. "Cheesy to say I was waiting for you?"

I giggled with pleasure and shook my head. "I don't believe you." I blew my smoke out directly into his face.

Alex shook his head and pulled me into his, wrapping his arms around me and holding me so close I could have sworn we briefly had one body. My hands tucked under his jacket and my fingers fist in his shirt and he shivered from the chill of my hands.

"You want my jacket?" I joked.

He kissed my temple. "This tour is gonna suck without you."

"Liar."

"Well, I'll enjoy it." We both chuckled. "But it won't be the same."

"I should just quit school."

"You should," he facetiously agreed for a moment, looking down at me fondly. "No, you shouldn't do that because who am I going to brag about?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Brag about?"

"Yeah, I brag about you all the time."

I laughed. "It's not like I go to Oxford. What are you bragging about?"

He pulled back slightly to get a clearer look at me. "You have to stop undervaluing yourself so much. If you met yourself, you'd be your favourite person."

"You're my favourite person."

He gathered me up again, and kissed me, deepening it. It was messy, turned into brazen and shameless. I backed him against the wall, and the bass beat against his spine.

At the end of February, the band played in London and attended the NME Awards. Alex brought me as his plus one. He wore an anorak over a long-sleeve blue shirt with jeans. I wore a black button-up with black jeans and black heeled boots. I didn't mean to come off as a gothy soul but I didn't have anything fancy and my mother has always told me black is classy. The rest of the band looked like they were dressed like they had to wait at the bus stop in the freezing cold for an hour. Everyone else was fancy-dressed compared to us as Alex would chastise in one of his speeches.

It was at Hammersmith Palais, a year before it was demolished. It was hard to get an appreciation for the building as everything was decked out in NME slogans and everyone was looking to get a piece of the band. For the first time, I was confronted with the question: "Are you his girlfriend?"

I swallowed my drink and nodded. I had a hard time wrapping my head around Alex no longer being my secret. In the coming months, this would grow into a bigger, uncontrollable thing where I would become forever known as "Alex Turner's girlfriend." In the beginning, there was pride in it that my boyfriend was successful and achieving height so long. Then, being referenced as that left me worried. I worried for my future where I would always be referred to in relation to him rather than an individual with a career. Later that night, the first paparazzi photo would be taken of us on the way to the after-party. I was nervous.

During the show, each time the band accepted their awards, totaling 3, we had progressively gotten drunker and drunker and drunker. It was free alcohol, who was gonna turn that down? Especially since the royalties check was still pending. Bob Geldof called Russell Brand a cunt, something that has only aged more gloriously. Ryan Jarman of The Cribs, who are from Wakefield, threw himself onto Kaiser Chiefs's table and had to have an ambulance called because he was bleeding profusely.

Alex came and sat beside me after his last speech, in which he boasted that the band had no competition in the category of Best British Band. I called him "a cocky son of a bitch" and he kissed my cheek and got me another drink. We both got too drunk to remember the rest of it.

Alex convinced me to join them for the weekend in Paris where we saw none of Paris and I saw little of Alex. We talked very little. He was obsessively tired and I felt like a chosen accessory as he held my hand but made no move to involve me.

I became annoyed with Alex as he napped and I sat by the window writing hate letters to him in my journal that he would never read.

At night, I fought with Alex and he made little effort to engage in behavior with me. It enraged me more. I yelled about how he didn't care about me and he would blink for so long I thought he fell asleep. Then, he'd say, "Whatever, Janie. Nothing I say will change your mind."

It felt for the first time Alex was sick of me. I had tired him out and he was done trying to force something I would never allow him to change. I felt tired too. We were both exhausted. I slumped down on the bed, still red inside and out. I loved him so dearly and every move I made felt like the wrong one. I just wanted him around all the time and then the time he was exactly around I ruined it with shouting and dreaming up the fantastical things he did away from me.

I didn't know why I was so overcome with anger and I began to hate myself at night. I cried to Alex and he did his best to hold and comfort me but I think he was exhausted by the whole thing. I thought about going to therapy. Then, I woke in the morning and Alex was hogging the bathroom and I decided that I was right to be overwhelmingly angry. I decided I was right about a lot of things.

In March, I wandered around London for long spaces of time. Sometimes I was looking for something to do, but most of the time I was trying to pass the time. It was a form of meditation. I'd lie under trees in Regent's Park and count the leaves on each branch. My father had gifted me a red iPod Nano for Christmas and it was the first portable listening device I had other than my clunky portable CD player.

On these walks, I felt I was learning more about myself without thinking about myself. I lacked the ability to shut my brain off but I'd get so lost in the scenery and the music that I'd never think of how I was perceived lying in the grass pointing my finger up to the sky.

Walks calmed me during the day but it didn't often last into the evening. I didn't talk to Alex much. He was in America for most of March. I went clubbing with lasses from classes on weekends and smoked with Georgia and Robert on weekdays.

Phone calls with Stacey were about the only thing that grounded me but they were of irregular occurrence. Alex wrote me an email halfway through the month that read:

Did MTV and Webster Hall. You'd love NY. I can picture you forcing me on walks through Central Park so I took one just for you. It would've been more fun with you but that's the case with everything. Didn't get to do much else so we'll have to come back. Whenever you want. See you in April.

I never responded to the email. It pissed me off too much because "whenever you want" wasn't the truth. I would never have him when I wanted and I wanted him all the time. I felt I might as well not have him at all. He signed off like I was some meaningless friend that he'd see the next time he was in town and I decided he might not want me at all either.

When April began I hadn't heard from Alex since the email. I tried to call him once but when that failed I decided it would be better for our relationship if I didn't reach out again. I would be mad either way, if he picked up I would be upset he didn't before and if he didn't I'd be convinced I'd never hear from him again.

"I want to cut my hair," I told Alex. We stood outside Carling Academy. I smoked a cigarette and he watched me. I felt like a board was between us. We had only kissed once when we arrived and I didn't want to kiss him again, I only wanted to cry and I couldn't figure out why.

He had his hands in his pockets and he felt like snow to me. He floated down to me, soft on my skin, but cold to the touch, melting in my hands. He leaned his side against the wall and I suppose he was anxious about performing in twenty minutes but I didn't care much.

"I like your hair," Alex told me. His hair had grown longer and I thought he needed a haircut too because it looked like he had sideburns. He had a funny look to him, one that made him look like Alfalfa with a mad cowlick that wasn't intentional but he made no effort to tame it.

I took a puff and said, "I want to shave it all off."

He laughed. "You want to be Sinéad O'Connor." We avoided any serious topic and stayed on the mundane. I preferred that and we accepted that things would stay this way forever if we left it. Alex and I have always done well with the mundane. We didn't do too well with the serious.

I couldn't focus on him, so I smoked my cigarette instead and waited for him to say something. I was near the end of my smoke when he finally said something. "You know, we've got an EP coming out in about a week."

I refused to allow my face to show anything and stared at the floor because I knew he'd be able to see anything I felt when he looked into my eyes. "No, you didn't tell me."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know. It's just a stupid EP."

Before I'd say something different but everything had changed within months. "I guess." I put out my smoke and we went inside. He was gone the next day and he might as well have never even existed. He was gone into dust, with the wind.

I listened to the EP under the trees and wondered who "Fiona" of "Cigarette Smoke" fame was before I figured it must have been me. Nothing Alex could do was right because he had once again landed in the dilemma of whoever Fiona was—a random girl or me—I would've been offended. I listened to "Despair in the Departure Lounge" and decided not to listen to the rest in public.

The last line "What's happened to me?" rang through my ears the whole way home and I have never forgotten that twisting feeling in my gut that it felt like it would take forever for me to escape. We lost ourselves in our own microcosms; I in London and in my thoughts; He on a tour bus and in his music. It felt like the point of no return that was being unacknowledged.

I feared I was going crazy during my last month of school and I stopped attending class other than to do my exams. I had enough sense for that. I spent my money on cigarettes and forgot to eat most days and still to this day I couldn't tell you the exact reason why. I was likely in some form of depression but it felt too crazy to be depressed. I felt manic most of the time and wondered if my mother felt like this and we all ignored her. I wondered if my mother hated herself like I hated myself and I wondered if my mother ever thought about me as much as I thought about her.

I spent hours smoking outside my dormitory window, which was technically destruction of property to my university and they'd have grounds to kick me out for it but they never caught on, and even if they did I think I was too checked out at that time to care.

I felt like I was taking handfuls of painkillers but I felt too crazy to take anything so I never understood why I felt tired all the time. Robert stopped supplying me with Adderall so I was possibly withdrawing from it but it lasted too long to be that. I didn't stop smoking weed, which likely was not a good thing but it helped me go to bed and I had fun doing weed and I didn't have fun not doing weed.

I would write in my journal while smoking out the window and I followed the belief that being a tortured artist leads to good work. Instead, it increased my chances of lung cancer and made me hate writing. Toward the end of May, I stopped writing and considered dropping out of school but the school year had finished and I knew my father would murder me if I didn't graduate.

Alex arrived in May to play another show. I was supposed to meet him at the venue at 3 and instead arrived at 6 with no warning. I can't remember why I showed up late but I can't lie. There was probably no good reason.

There was nonsensical chatter before the show and Alex put up with my cold behavior until the end of the night when we were alone at my place.

After we had sex, I lay in the crook of his neck and thought about suffocating myself. I pressed my head so far into him that he yelped and asked me, "What are you doing?"

I softened my digging and thought that Alex no longer knew me. I don't know what was happening to me in those months but I was mad and didn't understand why he didn't see what I was doing to myself in those months.

"You never asked me about summer," I mumbled into his neck.

He closed his eyes and I felt like it was 2003 and I was begging him to kiss me again. He was so far removed from me and I feared I'd never have him in my grasp again. I held him tightly as he sighed. "We never talked about it."

"We never talk."

"I'm sorry." But it didn't sound like he was. He just sounded done.

"It's okay." I was more angry with him than I had ever been but I swallowed it like a dry pill.

"Are you going on your family trip?"

I was short with him. "Aruba."

"That'll be nice. For you and Stacey. I can see you by the water, drinking Piña Coladas." It comforted me that Alex pictured pretty things when all I was able to see was my inescapable rage.

I thought about hooking up with a boy on vacation. One I had never met but one that would bring me out of this self-sacrificing funk. I choked my own spit when I thought about Alex. I wondered if he was just my human Band-Aid for the time. The way Joanie had kept me safe through secondary school, Claire had mended me through our first year of college, and Alex licked my wounds and said things were alright and sang me stupid songs and played cards with my sister while fires raged below but like Claire and Joanie and every boy Band-Aid I had before he would heal the previous wound before leaving with a chunk of me for the next one to fix. I cried then and he held me but I wondered how much longer he'd put up with this.

"It'll be fine, Janie." His hand stroked down my spine and he was oblivious to the terrible thoughts I was having, thinking he was consoling me over my family instead of him. "When will you be back?"

I sat up and he delicately wiped my cheek but had missed most of the wetness. I wiped my whole hand under my eye to dry the area. "Some time at the end of June. I can't remember."

"That's perfect." He smiled. "You can come to T in the Park and we're doing Oxegen so we'll be back in Ireland. I know how much you loved Ireland."

His touch felt foul on me. "I'm not your groupie."

My face had turned sour. "What's wrong?" Alex asked.

I tried to turn him away, insisting, "Nothing. I'm making a joke."

But he knew me too well. "No, you're not."

"I know when I'm making a joke and I'm making a joke," I mouthed at him.

But he was done. I had beaten up against him too many times for him to console anymore. "Whatever, Janie."

I scowled. "Well, fuck you." I was a ticking time bomb in those days. The slightest fire and I was going to blow.

Alex was oblivious, confused by the whole thing. I should take partial blame. I never opened up anymore. But he never asked anymore. He couldn't be bothered to give a shit anymore. Too much else on his mind to care about what was going on in mine. I only cared about what was going on in his. It was unhealthy consumption. He snapped, "What's wrong? What did I do to piss you off? You're crying and I'm comforting you and you're making digs at me."

I ripped my touch away from him. "You take everything so personal."

"I take everything so personal!" He sat up, showing frustration in talking with his hands. "Who the fuck are you then?"

I just stared at him.

He took a deep breath, rubbing his hair off his forehead. "I don't know what you want me to do. You seem to have an issue with everything I do."

I didn't accept his indolence. "Maybe everything you do is an issue. You ever thought of that?"

And he ripped off from there. "Do you have some bitch flip on?"

I got out of bed naked and made no mind to get my clothes on. I was too furious for clothes. "Fuck you. Calling me a bitch. You're a fucking joke. You're the biggest fucking asshole. You don't give a shit. You just care about yourself."

"Calm down, Janie—"

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down!"

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Alright. Geez!"

I stood with my arms crossed over my boobs but made no move to cover my exposed cunt. I wanted him to see my naked body and for it to not be desirable. I wanted him to call me a cunt. I wanted him to do a lot of things. I wanted him to be here in the morning. Most of all, I wanted to be able to say things to him again.

We stood with our chest heaving and he stayed still in my bed and I stayed still, digging my left foot into my rug. "We'll be back for 2 weeks in July."

I didn't say anything and I wasn't sure if it was good enough but I got back into bed with him. Like everything else, we never talked about it.

I did end up sleeping with someone in Aruba. The worst part was I didn't regret it. I'm pretty sure Alex was doing the same thing on the road and sleeping with someone else based on a presumption that your boyfriend is doing the same is not a good method for a healthy relationship with either party, including yourself. But I didn't mainly do it off the presumption, I did it after those suggested piña coladas and a hot Dutch boy called me cute when I didn't feel it and it felt worth enough to sleep in his bed that night. I hadn't slept in Alex's bed in a long time.

In July, I went to Oxegen because Ireland is so beautiful and Alex is so beautiful and I didn't feel so beautiful so I hoped some of their beautiful would rub off and make me beautiful. I was just thinking about myself too much.

When Alex asked about Aruba I didn't mention the guy just like when I asked him about the tour he never mentioned a girl. If neither of us uttered it, it wouldn't be true.

My hair had grown longer. If I bent my head back I could feel it hit my butt. Alex's hair was longer and it curled out to the sides like Carole Brady. It felt like the coldest day of the year in July, pissing rain, and the sun nowhere in sight. We didn't do any exploring in Ireland like we did the year prior or in the years to come, not even the festival grounds as everything was too muddy, and walking around with Alex at festivals could be a tricky thing.

Before their set, we played Uno, a thing that has always calmed me, unlike regular card games where I feel pressed to bluff and prove how strategic I am. Uno got me laughing and I felt a little whole again even in all the rain, even if I felt my body was being torn limb for limb, I felt the torture was put on pause and the festival named Oxegen felt like the title fit.

After their set, where the rain stopped no one from chanting and moshing and I grew in amazement at the sight of all the people, we played more Uno. Halfway through the game, I tried to peek over at Alex's cards and he let me because he knew I wanted to win. He never placed the Draw 4 card down either. So, I kissed him that night. In a way that wasn't a greeting and wasn't an invitation for sex, just a loving kiss.

Of Alex's two weeks at home, I spent most of the time at his house. We ate dinner with his parents four times during the stay and spent hours on the riverbed at Charlton Dam. Alex would clump grass in his hand and dip his hands in the water to wipe off the dirt. I counted the leaves on the branches. I imagined a life where we had stayed in Yorkshire forever but I knew even in fantasy I wouldn't have been happy.

Alex brought his guitar one day and strummed on the strings until I fell asleep. When I woke he had fallen asleep beside me and I thought of living our lives in that grass forever like some version of Blue Lagoon without the cousin-fucking part. It seemed magical and looking over at him I was struck by his calmness. He had always been subdued but asleep he possessed a stillness that would steady oceans and stop the Earth from spinning on its axis but instead, he chose to sleep.

A little while later he woke up and strummed his guitar with an unknown tune and I wrote random sentences in my notebook. I wrote of the grass on my bare feet and the muttering Alex did under his breath and my mother's Bloody Marys.

"I'm bored," he whined.

"You're frustrated." I could tell he was stuck on something, Alex rarely cited boredom.

He gestured to me, curling his fingers. "Gimme me something."

"Like what?"

"Gimme me one of your lines." He grabbed a hold of my notebook, something I usually shunned, but for some reason, I gave it over to him that day. "Her Bloody Mary must be lacking tabasco while she bites her lemon and thinks of when she used to be fun," he read aloud with a chuckle. "Scathing."

I took the notebook back. "Stop it," I warned him.

"No, I like it. I want more. Write me a song with me, Janie."

I rolled my eyes. "I suck at rhyming."

"Well, then you write and I'll rhyme."

So, I wrote crudely and crafted tales of lost adolescence that did not specifically pertain to my mother. I don't picture my mother and sex in the same sentence.

"Is that a mecca dauber or a betting pencil?" He burst into laughter, falling on his back, and rolling around. "Jesus, Janie, I'm stealing that."

"Yet another man taking credit for a woman's accomplishment."

"I'll give you the residuals."

"You will not be publishing this!" Fat chance. Nonetheless, at the time, he agreed to this.

The line is still the best thing I've ever written.

The band left for Australia and New Zealand at the end of July and Alex asked me if I would like to join but I turned him down for a reason I can't recall now. Many things happened in the summer of 2006 that I have blocked out and for the life of me, I can't remember. I used to hope that I would remember what happened but now I think my brain is doing me a favour.

My maternal grandmother died the first week of August and I personally can't recall the trip to Sarasota, Florida, where she resided in her final years. Stacey has told me my mother cried the whole plane ride over in my arms and yelled at the flight attendant who tried to console her. My father flew in days later for the funeral and flew out the next day.

My mother wanted to remain in Sarasota for longer. She hadn't visited her mother in many years and the last time I saw my grandmother before her death I was 15. She had visited us in Wakefield, which she hated, and said it was shameful not to live in a metropolis like London. She spent her childhood working on farms and I heard loose stories of my grandfather being sent to a gulag. She didn't like the suburbs.

Then, she moved to Florida in her retirement. I had never been to Florida.

I know my mother didn't like her mother very much but the reasons have never been told to me. I assume it's for many of the reasons I didn't get along with my mother but I also know my grandmother and mother experienced more tragedy in their lives than any human should ever endure. They were bonded for life through events that both never told and loved each other dearly but they didn't get along and they didn't like each other very much. I don't think they liked each other at all.

That week, we helped my mother and Aunt Daria clean out my grandmother's apartment. Harper helped the first couple of days before returning to England leaving most of the trip to be Stacy and me with my mother.

On the second Monday in August, my mother suddenly insisted we go to Miami. With little ability to resist our grieving mother, Stacey and I hopped into a car with my mother for 3 hours. I don't think my mother has ever been so calm. She laughed with us and told stories of her childhood and teenage years in Philadelphia and talked about her early life in Soviet Russia, something she never talked about. She asked Stacey about her friends and Stacey confessed to her worries about passing her A levels. My mother was comforting through it all, insisting that we would always be taken care of and Stacey, as the baby of the family, would always be her baby.

My mother then asked me about Alex. "How is he doing?"

"Fine." It was hard for me to figure out what to say. It was an unfamiliar thing to talk about anyone with my mother let alone my boyfriend. "Busy. The band's playing Sydney tomorrow. Or, I guess, today. I think they're 14 hours ahead of us."

My mother placed her palm on her chest and sighed, gushing, "God, I loved living in Sydney. I love all of Australia."

Stacey, unsafely unbuckled as we sped down I-75, leaned over the center console to ask my mother what she and I were both thinking, "When did you live in Australia?"

"Oh, for a short amount of time," she waxed sublimely. "Long before your father, must have been early 1973, I think. I remember coming from New York, which had been frozen over, and landing in sunny Sydney. We spent all day on the beach and drank for days with no care. " Does that mean she has care with her drinks now? "I learned how to surf. I was very adorable and darling. The Sydney Opera House opened while we were down there. Queen Elizabeth came down to open it and I remember watching from the crowd. The next year I was in London but I should have stayed longer. We should've."

"Who's we?" I asked.

She hesitated, I could tell. She gripped tightly onto the steering wheel and then sighed, releasing her hands. "My boyfriend at the time. He was this Australian hottie." I realized then that I had unintentionally written my mother's truth in "Fluorescent Adolescent." More worrisome, I feared I had written my future truth as thoughts of what-ifs regarding Alex were at an all-time high in spite of still being together. Although, it felt like we were barely together other than in writing.

"Mum!" Stacey whined.

My mother ignored her plea. "I had my fun. I was very beloved. When we broke up I couldn't stand the city anymore. Then, I left for London with hopes of marrying into the Royal Family but alas I could've never been the people's princess."

"I didn't know you traveled much before dad."

She laughed. "That's all I did before your dad."

We stayed at a Holiday Inn and my mother never complained with the exception of the smell in the gym. We were quick to get out on the beach and my mother refused to go into the water but she sat in a chair and dipped her feet as she watched Stacey and I stumbled our way through the waves. Later, we all laid up on beach towels and gossiped about American celebrities and I thought of my mother on the beach in Sydney, which made me think of Alex lying on a beach towel in Sydney, which made me laugh.

Over dinner, for the first time in my life, I saw my mother reject a drink. Since I wasn't old enough to drink in the US, she said she wouldn't drink in the US, so instead we all drank pink lemonade.

That night, after Stacey went to bed, I snuck out to smoke a cigarette and call Alex. It would have been sometime around 2 PM there. He didn't pick up the first call so I decided to wait a few minutes before trying again.

My mother came out halfway through the cigarette and though I had never smoked in front of her, I'm sure she knew I did it. She asked for one and we sat in silence while she lit it. Stacey was no longer a buffer for us.

She nodded toward my phone. "Calling Alex?"

"Yeah."

She exhaled the smoke and I felt the Miami humidity suffocating me. "The band must be doing pretty well if they're playing Australia."

"Yeah." 'Doing well' was a laughable statement but I didn't have much of an idea of what to say to my mother to explain how wrong this notion was.

"Are you two doing well?" She asked.

"Yeah." She stared at me and I could tell she wanted to know more and, for some reason, I felt implored to tell her like we were suddenly the Gilmore Girls or something. "As well as two 20-year-olds can do I suppose."

She chuckled and it felt funny for her to laugh at one of my jokes. "He seems fairly well-behaved for a 20-year-old boy."

"Yeah. He's great." She could tell what I was edging on and we sat in silence as she waited for me to spill. "But, he's so far, you know."

She shrugged. "That's what I like about your father. You'll be thankful for that kind of thing one day."

I felt a bitter and salty taste in my mouth. I don't like it when my mother talks this way.

She sighed. "I wish he'd stayed longer but I got my girls and that's good for me. If only Harper was here."

"What about Gary?"

My mother snorted. "Men are no fun in Miami. Gary would be shaming us for sunbathing." I laughed. It was an odd thing. "Are you mad Alex didn't come?"

I laughed at that idea too. "To Grandma's funeral, no. He's got a good excuse for not coming too."

"Does that annoy you?" My mother playing therapist of all people is laughable. I would have laughed at it then if she wasn't asking me what I wanted Alex to ask me.

I didn't dignify the question with an answer.

My mother tapped her cigarette on the bench's arm. "Why didn't you go with him this summer?" I stayed silent. "I would've let you go," she told me.

"I know."

"I'm glad you were in Aruba. I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," I muttered. We listened to the cars drive by and if you focused for long enough you could hear the ocean waves. They coerced me to speak. "He didn't ask me to join. I didn't want to be the whiny girlfriend."

"So you're pouting with me instead?"

I sat up straight. "I'm not pouting."

"All you do is pout!" It was only a matter of time until she outburst. Just like me.

I didn't want to yell back at her. I didn't want to yell. It was 15 after midnight.

She offered her best solution. "Why don't you join him in Sydney?"

I rolled my eyes. "By the time I get to Sydney, he'll be in another town."

"Then, go to that town. It's young love, Jane, you're supposed to want to be near them. Why do you think I moved to Sydney?"

I shook my head.

"You don't want to hang out with Stacey and me that much. I know you can't stand me."

I feel bad that I didn't fight her on that. I have always loved my mother, even if she wasn't always worthy of that love.

"I'll buy you the ticket, darling." Darling was one of her dramatic words, she'd stretch it out syllable by syllable d-ar-lin-ggggg. It always felt elegant coming from her lips. "Miami doesn't suit your pale complexion anyway."

I laughed, she laughed, and then she dropped me off at Miami International Airport and I got on a plane to LA, which then took me to Tokyo.

I arrived in Tokyo a day before the band. I was too tired to do anything so I stayed at a capsule hotel at Haneda Airport after my flight and fell asleep almost instantly. I've never been able to sleep on flights and I think I slept longer in that capsule hotel than any other sleep in my life.

The band was coming from Osaka and I contacted Alex about my arrival but he never responded. Part of me felt like I was intruding but I thought of my mother's words and the delusions I had of Alex showing up in Sarasota prevented me from any great fear.

Alex told me earlier about the hotel they were staying at because he was excited about the advertised toilets that could open upon entry, play music, and give massages. I was creeped out by the whole thing. How can a toilet give you a massage?

I probably should have enjoyed more of Tokyo instead of waiting for the band's arrival in the hotel lobby but I liked my greeting idea too much to ruin it by seeing Sensō-ji, even if that monetarily would've been the better decision. I read The Year of Magical Thinking, my first Didion and a depressing choice for the plane ride over, but it felt right to read after a funeral.

He was dressed in an Adidas muscle shirt and was holding his duffel bag. I felt like a stalker, watching him from a distant couch. I had regret over Alex being uninformed of my arrival because these surprises made me nervous and left me with flushed cheeks and a pounding heart.

I approached the band while they were waiting for the elevator. "Can I have your autograph?" I was really trying to play up the fangirl thing but it came off more embarrassing than I wanted.

I remember Matt was frightened and yelled out "Fuck!" which got him scolded by their manager and dirty looks from hotel patrons. Nick, who had only been in the band for about a month, looked confused. Jamie was the only one who looked normal, scrunching up his nose, and saying something whack. Alex just looked at me as if I were a ghost. I could see the wheels turn in his head as he tried to process what was in front of him.

"What? How? Huh?" He stuttered.

He hugged and kissed me, albeit awkwardly as he continued to look for answers. I gave them a short synopsis as we rode the elevator up. When we reached the fifth floor, we splintered off into our rooms with smart toilets.

Alex was sweet and possessive in his touch on me as he dropped his duffle bag and took me in his arms instead. The whole thing felt too romantic for two people who shunned hopeless ideas of kissing in the rain or cuddling in front of a fireplace but it was a precious and comforting thing as we finished and lay in a pile of consolement as I talked of my grandmother and the puzzle that was (and is) my mother.

He told me my mother was right, Sydney was real beautiful, and that he wished to take me there. I told him I was jealous that he was seeing the world without me. I insisted it to be a joke but he and I both knew that I was green-eyed over this fact but we both didn't acknowledge the fact that we were in Tokyo, seeing none of it because we both enjoyed seeing each other more than any city.

After their performance and a shower to get rid of all that sweat, Alex shook his hair like a wet dog. "Eek!" I squealed. "When are you going to cut your hair? You look like you got a mop attached to your head?"

"You don't like it shaggy?" He asked me as he pet it down.

I pushed a piece of his damp hair behind his ear, admiring his profile as he stared ahead at the bathroom mirror. "You just have to style it correctly."

"Do you want to cut it?" He offered. His eyes were hopeful and his trust in me felt unwavering. It made me smile and bubbles of bliss spread in my gut. There was never any doubt in me caring for him, just like I had no doubt he would always do right by me.

"With what? Do you have scissors?"

"I have my Swiss Army knife." I laughed but he grabbed the tool and flipped the small-scale scissors out of it, placing it in my hand.

"I'm not going to get much done with it," I told him as I stood behind him, combing his hair with my fingers.

"That's fine. Less for you to mess up."

I hit his shoulder and he chuckled with delight. I snipped a few ends off but not enough to make a significant difference. His hair had dried by the time I gave up. I offered the cutter to Alex. He was meticulous, knowing I was particular about these things. I had wanted my hair much shorter for a long time but it had to wait longer because he only snipped the deadends and kissed my temple. The whole thing felt like a holy ritual and I felt slightly creepy for keeping a piece of hair from it but it was more for the preservation of memory than to clone Alex or create a voodoo doll. It joined my trunk of trinkets.

"I have something to give you." Alex searched through his bag, pushing things out of the way.

I spotted the white text popping off the black shirt. "Oh, my god, Alex," I laughed.

"Shit," he cursed, picking up the shirt. He shook his head at his ruined surprise. "I was going to do this whole romantic thing."

His precarious position of kneeling on one knee, looking up at me with the shirt in his hands led to a perplexed me. "By proposing?"

"Oh." He chuckled and stood up straight. Handing me the shirt that read I LOVE YOU WILL U MARRY ME. It had been graffitied on a Park Hill estate in Sheffield in 2001. I have held a deep love for the romanticism spread on the concrete bridge—something about its contrasting nature. "I found it in a shop in Auckland of all places."

I held the shirt up, examined the design, and then hugged the shirt to my chest. "Thank you. I love it. I'll wear it tomorrow."

I was woken up by Alex going to the bathroom early in the morning. He tried to be quiet but stubbed his toe on the way there. I stayed silent and while he was behind the bathroom door, I turned the bedside lamp on a low light.

In my vernal imagination, I pictured myself as being desirable. I wondered if I could be like those figures I saw in movies. Now, it sounds more of a porno than it is, but I hoped to be picturesque as opposed to X-rated. The kind of sophisticated class reserved for paintings of naked French girls where the demurity of women was dashed in pearls and bathed in light, shining effulgently.

When I lied on my side, I felt capable of conveying this. Maybe it was the shade of lampshade light or how dark the rest of the room was, or the boy I was with. I felt like a siren, a vixen, a seductress. Alex came out rustled with sleep but he had awoken when his eyes landed on me.

We were curled—two parentheses. It couldn't have been long after we had finished like after the sexual release we had to have the emotional one. I have chosen to look back on what follows as poetic, especially with a song like 505. I suppose if I had never seen Alex again, I might view it as tragic.

"We're flying to Austria tomorrow," he told me.

His arm curled around my waist and my heartbeat heightened at the fact he would have physical contact with me, intimate contact with me. "Okay."

"Do you want to come with me?"

"School starts soon." I could have managed it if I truly wanted to but the difference was I didn't want to anymore because I had a feeling Alex would never be able to do that for me. Be where I wanted him to be. I couldn't blame him but I couldn't acquit him either.

"You think you'll make it to Reading & Leeds?" I hated how desperately hopeful he sounded. A quiver rang in his voice like we both knew what way the train was heading.

"Probably not. I'd like to be settled."

"We'll be done touring soon."

"And then what?"

"I don't know. Another album."

"Another tour."

"Yeah." He waited for a beat. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I turned into his chest, placed the crown on my head against the divet of his collarbone. "I don't know when I'll see you again and I don't like that."

"I don't either but we'll make it work," he assured. It just felt like a painful lie and I didn't want Alex to lie to me.

I cried, sobbed, wept into his chest and he held me as I shaked in a far more somber way than he had held me shaking earlier. For the first time, I said out loud, "I don't think I can."

I felt him swallow but he refused to say anything. When I looked up at him with blurry vision, his mouth was tightly closed and his eyes drifted far away. He was crying. I had never seen him cry before.

I wanted to care for him the way he cared for me. But I couldn't do that. It was easy then to know to let go. Alex didn't rebuff my admission with insistence that we could in fact make it work. He knew too.

We didn't say anything the rest of the night and when I left in the morning, we kissed and only said goodbye. It felt like too much to say anything else. I fear if he said something, a whisper of 'I love you,' I might have stayed and I knew, for us, I couldn't do that.

I left the shirt he gifted me in 505 and a week later, at the Lowlands Festival, he wore it onstage.

I stayed in a capsule hotel in Shinjuku City, near Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. I felt like an aimless body in the days I stayed there. It was a scene out of Lost in Translation. I visited temples and shrines watching, among the tourists, those who believed. I was desperate for that faith. It had been ripped from me so young I didn't know how to have that unshaken faith in something. Alex had brought parts of it out but I was codependent and untrusting and untrustworthy and young. Not much felt right and now everything else felt wrong.

For those few days, I regretted my decision. I walked around wishing Alex was with me but when I returned to my capsule in the evening, I realized he wouldn't have been there even without our ending.

On my last day, I took a train to Kamakura and stood before Kamakura Daibutsu, a giant Buddha statue. I wasn't suddenly changed, I wasn't radicalized, I didn't feel liberated, I didn't feel suppressed, I wasn't different. But I liked the feeling of being dwarfed by the figure, 13.35 metres, 93 tonnes. I could be crushed by it. I could climb it.

I went inside it where scrawlings of graffiti had been etched. Some nonsense, some prayers. It's been there since 1252. I wonder how far back some of those writings went. I had thought about being somewhere for so long, so long after my time. But I couldn't think of anything to write therefore I would not change a thing there.

I flew home the following day. Only a piece of me is left in Japan.

The leaves were turning burgundy and gold when I saw Alex again. I entered my final year of university with questionable standings but a determination to finish and obtain a job that I truly loved. I had begun renting a flat with Georgia in Tower Hamlets across from the cemetery park. The park had been heavily neglected, bombed during World War II, and had been overgrown with plants. It was open 24 hours so I would walk through it early in the morning when I was restless.

I got a text from him when I was there one morning, stuffed under a tree in the fog. He wrote that the band was in town, recording their next album, and—if I wanted—he would like for me to join them for drinks.

I never doubted saying yes. Alex was my friend first and I wanted him always to be my friend. He gave me the olive branch, I must accept it. I brought Georgia to be safe.

Alex and I hugged when I arrived and I sat on the opposite side of the booth from him. Georgia and I shared chips with Katie Downes, Jamie's new girlfriend. She was (and is) one of the cutest people I have ever known. It was easy to feel jealous of her; she was gorgeous and a glamour model, who usually would've been described as a sex kitten bombshell femme fatale with being a frequent cover girl of lad magazines, but she wore her hair with the front pieces pinned back with butterfly clips and licked ketchup off her fingers. It was impossible not to find her adorable when she cackled at one of my jokes.

I wore an engulfing hoodie and sweatpants with my fingers itching for a cigarette but I knew if I went outside Alex would come out and we'd be alone. We were both pretty quiet the whole night and I found myself longing for him to say something, angry at him for texting me, dangling himself in front of me. But then again I was too scared to speak too. I watched him watch my hand fidget on the table. I thought of that cigarette we could share. I laughed at Matt's joke instead. I'm not sure if it was the right decision.

We would remain in the same cities for most of December. Their next album was recorded in London but we didn't see much of each other through my choice. I worried that my rejection of these hangouts would come off as if I didn't want to be friends. I reassured him once over text, saying, I just need time. Busy. Busy was a half-truth, school was piling up but emotionally I'm not sure I was ready to laugh with Alex. I hung out with Matt some. It was like I never knew Alex. If we had never talked, if I wasn't mistaken to be named Jeanie and wasn't a nicotine addict. It was comforting to be close with Matt again. It was terrifying to feel like I never knew Alex.

Alex and me and London was exactly what I wanted for years. I wondered if he chose to record down there to be with me. If he had daydreams of coming home to a shared flat where, for once, we could be together together. Part of me indulged in these fantasies late at night before falling asleep. Other than that I didn't allow myself to think of what-ifs. I wrote instead of Japan and of Kamakura Daibutsu. My professor, Madeline Critchley, worked for Granta, a literary magazine, and told me to submit it. A few weeks later, it was selected to be featured. It was my first paid published work.

The issue came out months later, in the spring, but it felt wrong for Alex not to read it. I felt like a betrayal that would get back to him. I emailed him the piece and told myself to expect nothing in return from him. He delivered:

The way you write makes me feel as if I'm in front of the colossal Buddha. It always moves me. You have etched your graffiti on me. It'll stay there long after we're gone.

I stayed in London for most of my winter recess but returned home for Christmas. I hadn't told my family that Alex and I weren't together. My parents never asked and I pacified Stacey saying he was away for the holiday season, even if I knew he was back home too. The 30-minute drive between us never felt longer.

Harper and Greg had returned home too with their spouses. On Christmas Eve, Stacey and I made sugar cookies and my mother displayed store-bought gingerbread men. We settled on watching Bridget Jones's Diary while eating these cookies. My mother and sister joined us because of their deep love of Colin Firth and my brother-in-law joined us because of his deep love for my sister. We sat below the Christmas tree which was my mother's pride and joy during Christmas. She'd drink eggnog while she wrapped garland around the tree and herself.

20 minutes into the film my phone buzzed with a text from Alex, who was outside. I knew I couldn't get away for long with this rare occasion of family time. I slipped on my winter boots, not even bothering to tie the shoelaces, and hoped my hoodie would suffice against the freeze outside.

Alex was outside the front door in a bulky winter coat that I imagine his mother had dressed him in. "Hi." He was quiet. Everything outside my house felt quiet with a pure landscape of ice and snow and nobody daring to go outside this late on Christmas Eve.

"Hi." I was quiet too.

"I have this—a little thing," he said, fiddling in his pocket before taking out a Christmas cracker. It was red with little snowflakes on it and my favourite holiday tradition. "I thought we'd pull it together."

"Well, you know me and my competitive nature," I mused.

We sat on my porch bench, cleared of snow. He took one end and I took the other and with one big yank, it popped. I looked down and he had the bigger half, all the favours inside. "I win," he cheered.

I smiled through the awkwardness as he pulled the paper crown out and settled the rest back on the bench. He unraveled the pink paper, looked down at it, and placed it on my head. I giggled. "Are you too scared to wear pink?"

He shrugged. "Suits you more than me." He picked up his half of the cracker and handed it to me. "Show me what else I got."

I poured the remains out, reading the card first. "What do you call forty rabbits hopping backwards?"

"What?"

"A receding hareline."

He snorted at the terrible joke. "Hopefully I'll be fine." He patted down his hair.

"You got it cut," I noted. It was cleaned up and the most tamed I had ever seen his hair. It was combed down in the front, stopping before his eyebrows, cut around his ears, and shiny.

"Yeah," he nodded, "got my local barber and all."

I chuckled and looked at the trinket in my hand: a mini deck of cards. I held it up to him and he asked, "Shall we play gin rummy with them?"

I want January back. I want the car ride. I want the songs. I want those stupid guitar picks I made him for his birthday. I want to be the fun intelligent couple. I want it all back. It's mine. "Why'd you come here?" I asked.

He seemed confronted by this question like he didn't think I would have the nerve to ask it. I fidgeted and opened and closed his mouth several times, thinking of words to say. "I don't know. I missed you."

I only managed to say, "Okay."

"We're back on tour in February. It's more formal this time. A proper tour. We'll have breaks and downtime and—"

"Alex," I stopped him. My head was shaking, unable to process the thought. I was looking down at my hands, cold and chipped, looking for warmth. I thought of December last year when he gave me his gloves and had no qualms about being left with cold hands. Everything in me felt cold now and he made no effort to warm me and I couldn't blame him for it.

I could feel his eyes on me but I couldn't look at him. It was easy to picture his face, mouth downturned and eyes begging for relief. "It's not enough, is it?"

My voicebox died. I couldn't move myself to say anything despite thinking everything.

"Do you want to go for a drive?" He asked me.

My head kept shaking. I didn't want to ruin that for us.

He laughed wetly. I could tell he was crying and the only way to prevent himself from caving in was to chortle. "Last time you rejected a car ride from me we didn't speak for months. I don't want to do that."

With my head still shaking and my eyes on my hands, I finally said, "We'll always be friends."

It was silent for a while and I began to sing "Silent Night" in my head to prevent myself from sobbing. Alex shifted, pulling away from me, he turned his head. I looked up to only see the back of it. He cleared his throat, tapped his foot, and in avoidance of my gaze said, "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

His eyes finally landed on mine. They were red and every bone in me was guilt-ridden. "Don't be. It's my fault for making things harder. I didn't mean to do it but I did and then I ignored it for too long."

"We both did things wrong. Young and stupid."

"I should've stayed in Tokyo."

"You couldn't have—"

"I could've. If I fought for it. It was over by that point anyway, right? Even if I had stayed and we saw that giant Buddha, things were too far gone?"

It hurt but I nodded.

He exhaled.

"I have to go," I announced. I wiped the remaining tears. "We're watching Bridget Jones's Diary."

Alex nodded. We stood up together and I walked him over to his car. He turned back with a smile, despite the blur in his eyes. "Have fun watching Hugh Grant," he teased. "I'll kill him if I have to."

I laughed but it wounded more than it amused. He got into his car and I watched him wrap his hands around the steering wheel. I walked back to my front door and looked back and his car was still there. I forced a smile to qualify me for Miss America and waved. He grinned, the best he could to not look like Cheshire Cat, and waved. Then, I went back inside and he drove away.

a/n: i don't have much to say. i'm a little mixed on this but i'll just leave it at that.

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #alex turner smut #junedenim #beneath the boardwalk

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eoieopda · 1 year ago

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problem | myg

pairing: min yoongi x darksided!reader summary: yoongi’s got a problem, and she’s dressed like elvira hancock. type: drabble, suggestive fluff (?) au: darksided; halloween; established relationship rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) word count: 1k cw: yoongi’s on his tony montana, more money/more problem shit shit; afab!reader dressed as female character (elvira hancock); no smut but definitely suggestive thoughts/statements; kissin’, gropin’, nibblin’. a/n: happy halloween! i didn’t plan this, lmao. this is partly to commemorate the one-year anniversary of the darksided series. you don’t need to have read the series to read this drabble, but context is fun 😌

For the past eight years, Halloween has been spent on the couch, eating candy straight out of a party-sized bag and watching movies. A low-key holiday for low-key people, both of whom prefer going to bed at a reasonable hour over getting stupid into the wee hours of the morning.

It’s been your favorite holiday for the better part of a decade for that reason — the lack of pressure and commotion, as well as the guarantee of quality time spent in the comfort of sweatpants. It’s nice, doing fuck all with the person you love doing nothing and everything with. Nobody has ever caught you complaining; and they never will.

This year, to your shock and awe, Yoongi bucked your expectations for the millionth consecutive time. Not only did he RSVP “yes” to a Halloween party, he decided that you would both attend in costume.

Apparently, one of the multitudes he contains kind of likes the idea of coordinating outfits with you.

You damn near fell over when he brought his idea to you in the first place; but now that he’s kneeling in front of you, dressed in a white suit and a torturously unbuttoned red button-up, you’re struggling to stay upright for an entirely different reason.

“Left foot,” he murmurs, gesturing to one of the legs you have dangling off the edge of the bed.

You oblige, resting your bare foot on his thigh. Silently, you watch while he slips your heel onto your foot, lips pursed in concentration as he deals with the tiny buckle on the ankle strap.

It shouldn’t fuck you up to see his fingers moving deftly, doing something this mundane, but it does.

Makes you want to blow off this party and spend the night with those hands instead.

God.

Those hands.

Their gentle grip on your ankle, the glint of his rings in the lamplight, the slender length of —

“Jagiya.”

Yoongi is smiling slightly when his words nudge you back to reality with a jolt. If that smirk tells you anything, it’s that he’s called out to you at least once before. All you do is squeak in response; your brain is a bit too scrambled to think of better.

And he knows it, too.

Bastard.

Slowly, he shifts your heel off his thigh. To emphasize his instruction, he taps your right ankle lightly. “Right foot, jagi.”

You’re boneless but acquiesce, nonetheless.

Then, he has the audacity to say, “Good girl,” with his fingertips brushing softly over your bare skin, and you may as well black the fuck out. No part of the moments that follow registers in your mind; you may as well have lost it.

When Yoongi demands your attention the second time, he doesn’t bother with pet names. He leans slightly forward to where the high slit of your dress leaves a knee exposed, presses a kiss to the piece of you on display, and keeps his lips there just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

“All set,” he says innocently, as if there’s anything angelic about the way he’s looking at you.

Dark eyes match the dark hair he’s pushed back off his forehead, and there’s a wickedness to them that you’ve never successfully ignored — not once in eight years.

“Ready to go?”

You make some unintelligible noise in response that you can’t parse yourself. Just like always, Yoongi manages to find the meaning you’re unable to locate; and he pushes himself to his feet. Two hands extend to help you do the same, and — just like always — you take them, no hesitation.

When you stand on unsteady legs, teal silk slips down the length of you and falls back into place with a flourish, fanning out at your ankles. Yoongi pauses, drinks in the sight of you like he’s drowning. He hums appreciatively to himself before reaching up to brush synthetic, blonde hair off your cheek.

“We’re running late,” he eventually notes.

Neither of you makes a single move towards the door. It’s only his arm that moves, hand dropping from your face to skim over the fabric covering your waist, hugging the curve of it. You shiver, although it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the way your dress is cut.

“Michelle Pfeiffer’s got nothing on you.”

You swallow hard, going tense all over.

An hour passes in a second.

“Have I told you that I love this dress?”

You’re crawling out of your skin, vibrating on a frequency only Yoongi can hear. Fuck this dress, fuck this party, fuck me. Even though you don’t verbalize any of it, you know that he knows.

His eyes flick down your frame like he’s weighing what he wants against what he’s obligated to. Like he’s starving, and he’s searching for permission to sate his appetite.

There’s no weight to your voice when you say, “So, take it off,” but it hits him heavy. You feel the force of it when his hands grip your ass and pull you close. Chest to chest, it’s present in your heartbeat, too; thudding violently with anticipation.

He repeats himself, voice low, “We’re running late.”

But his actions tell you that he doesn’t give a shit about the clock. His mouth finds the skin beneath your jaw, and the heat of his breath warms your neck in the seconds before his lips do. At first, it’s just a kiss.

Then, it’s a whisper.

“Really late.”

Then, it’s the faint graze of his teeth when he nips at you, followed by the flick of his tongue, eager to soothe the sting.

“We can be later,” he muses on an exhale, as if either of you needs to be convinced. His grip on your ass tightens just enough to pull a whimper out of you. “What do you think, Elvira?”

Your brain has liquified with the rest of you, but you summon the strength to run your fingertips along the edges of his lapel. “Tony,” you start with a sigh.

“Hmm?” He hums, mouth too busy to form words.

You grip those lapels and push him slightly backwards, interrupting his ministrations in order to look him dead in the eyes. Loving the challenge, he smirks back at you with one eyebrow arched expectantly.

“One of us’ll die if you don’t kiss me for real, and it won’t necessarily be me.”

Just like always, Yoongi only needs to be told once.

likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

want to be on my permanent bts taglist? sign up here.

#min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi drabble #yoongi x reader #myg #jade writes #re: darksided #kvanity

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iamheadcanontrash-deactivated · 1 year ago

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Heyy, I was wondering if you could do hcs of the acotar characters, rhys, cass, az, lucien, eris, etc. and what kinds of birthday gifts they'd get you, how they'd celebrate your birthday?? thank you so much!!

What the ACOTAR Males Would Do For Your Birthday~

Cassian: 🦇❤️

-Would do literally whatever you wished. It’s his command.

-Would sit in silence with you or take you to Rita’s, whatever you wished for that day.

-He has a tendency to put a lot of thought into his gifts, so it his gifts would revolve around your own hobbies. A music player with your favorite songs, a limited edition book series you’d mentioned months prior… fleece lined Illyrian leathers… anything.

Rhys: 🦇🌙

-Surprise parties. For sure—he wants to celebrate his Darling! 💕

-Would gift you a beautiful dress beforehand as well (made by his mother, of course. It’s unknown where his stash of dresses is.)

-Would offer some late night fun as well, iykwim 😉

Azriel: 🦇🖤

-Would want to spend quiet, 1:1 time with you on your special day. He doesn’t like crowds.

-Would plan a secluded vacation for just you and him, and you’d both dress up for a simple dinner night.

-He’d gift you a new piece of jewelry to wear (either he saw you eyeing it, or he saw it himself and it reminded him of you.)

Eris: 🍎🍂

-Listen: you are this male’s TREASURE. If his dad is still in the picture, he won’t risk anything. You will stay a secret for a while whether you like it or not. Not in a Tamlin way though—more in a “my father has killed females for loving us; you wouldn’t be an exception” way.

-He will only have 1:1 time with you. You’d be on a getaway vacation in a cabin not even his brothers know about.

-He’d gift you clothes, or an Autumn Court cloak, something thoughtful and beautiful. He’d also love to dance with you on your day.

Lucien: 🦊🌞

-This male pays attention. He only wants the best for you, he is a protector.

-Would maybe gift you a beautiful dagger he’d found while on his trips, or an expensive tea he’d caught you looking at while out and about together.

-Would also be another male that prefers his 1:1 time with you. It’s not that he hates crowds; it’s more of a trust thing. He only trusts you. He only wants to see you, be surrounded by only you.

Tamlin: 🥀💚

-Would be pretty basic about his gifts/celebrations until The Girlfriend Effect TM kicked in.

-Would gift you anything to do with a hobby you’ve expressed interest in. You gotta give him credit though, he’ll only gift you high-quality things.

-Tammy has grown to be not too fond of crowds anymore. He would enjoy a quiet dinner in his home with you, a walk through his garden. Maybe once he heals he will have a nearby village that’s thriving. He would be willing to eat dinner at a cafe in Spring Court with you, he’d learn to support small businesses.

Tarquin: 🌊🐬

-A day on the yacht? Party on da boat. He loves watching your hair blow in the wind, your smile as you watch dolphins jumping by.

-He would give you your own island if you asked. The whole ocean.

-If parties aren’t your thing, he would plan a whole dinner, a sunset boat ride just you and him, floating in the ocean while you just enjoy each others company until you want to go back. He’ll be out there all night if you so wish.

Thank you for requesting!! I hope y’all are ready for Kinktober tomorrow 😌😉

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #rhysand #rhysand x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra #tamlin x reader #tamlin #tarquin #tarquin x reader

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storiesbyrhi · 2 years ago

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Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: A voice calls to you.

Author's Note: Set around two weeks after the ‘earthquake’ and is canon-compliant except there is no Eddie in 1986. This fic takes a couple of chapters to get going, so stay with me. I am SO excited about this, and I think you will love where it goes.

1986

The colony screeched and swooped, taking off into the inky dusk sky with graceless chaos. Each bat had stretched their wings and dropped from their forest dwelling to join the trilling and flapping. Only one remained.

He perched high in the treetops, an unwillingness to join the others that was not typical for a bat. Impossible for a bat, depending on who you asked. He observed the night grow darker with an entirely unnatural sense of understanding.

Eventually, he would fall from the branch and join the others in the hunt for moths and wasps, beetles and bugs. The hunger would drive him to it, yet the hunger could never be satisfied. It had been like that for one hundred and fifty years.

He was the oldest in the colony and couldn’t remember being young. He couldn’t remember reveling in warm nights or cicada season. He felt as if he had always haunted the forest and always would. He felt, and that was the problem.

The other bats did as all Eptesicus fuscus did. They were born into a colony around April and spent a month nursing from their mothers. The pups grew up, hibernated in the winter, mated, and bared the next generation, ultimately living a short life, just shy of a decade at best.

This bat did not. He did not hibernate alone or with others. When they found warmth and shelter in dilapidated buildings, under tree bark, or in caves, he remained a presence on the boughs of the forest’s tallest trees. He did not mate and did not father. He did not fly patterns across the sky while the town below slept. He ate to survive and continued to live well beyond his species’ dictated years. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He watched over Hawkins, Indiana for over a century. With each passing year, things would change. Slowly, the wilderness had been reduced to clusters of wooded areas by modernisation and industrialisation. It was becoming more and more common for the bats to come into contact with humans. A vast majority of the time, the people screamed and ran, terrified of disease or spooked by urban legends. Some marveled at the bats with respectful awe. Some tried and failed to catch the needle-teethed things for sport. Mostly, they were left alone to mind their own bat business, and mostly, that’s what the ageless bat did.

It wasn’t until mid-nineteenth century that the bat sensed a deep and profound shift. The Lab was built and the earth suffered. The bat had an ariel view and echolocation, but he couldn’t know what happened within the walls. Decades passed and the mystery continued. By 1983 though, he knew his kind wasn’t the only nightmare fuel in the woods.

1984. 1985. And, in 1986 the ground split open, spilling the Upside Down into Hawkins. An earthquake, reported the news. The sixth sense innate in all animals knew better Deers, birds, and bees all migrated out of pattern. The colony of bats entirely disappeared one night, having feared the vibrations pulsating from the cracks in the earth.

Only one remained, an unshakable and quite possibly magical force tethering him to Hawkins.

…

“That town is no place for a witch,” came the warning. “Something is still wrong with Hawkins. Can’t you sense it?”

Infamous in Indiana, Hawkins was the place where buildings burnt and people went missing with threefold outcome. One: they were never seen again. Two: returned, but at what cost? Three: bodies found, so disfigured by unseen violence that it was hard not to believe in monsters.

When the streets fell apart in 1986, sending part of the town down into hell, it would have been fair for Hawkins to lose what remained of their resolve. Yet, the town would go on to rebuild, and between the freshly poured concrete and funeral services, a battle was fought in secret.

“A doorway was opened. They may not claim victory,” came another warning with a beg to heed.

Yes, it would be the fight of their lives, but it wasn’t for a witch to interfere with. That was a hard line in the sand of magic that even you would not cross. They called him Vecna, but you had no name for him. His sorcery was not of the natural world. To let him know of yours would be to risk it all.

There was more to you than witchcraft, however. Hawkins was a town in crisis, and there was space for you to help and heal.

“It’s not just him,” cried a third and final warning. “The ground is consecrated,”

“That’s old superstition,” you dismissed.

“So is blood moon bad luck, but look what happened last time. And falling brooms, broken mirrors, and circles of salt. We are superstition. There are some places witches should not go.”

Your mind was set and your path clear. “Something is calling me there. Doesn’t that have meaning?”

“Not all callings are sanctified,”

“Do we fear holiness or not?” you asked. “I can’t walk consecrated ground but should only show devotion to the sanctified calls?”

There was no answer.

You sighed and softened your voice. “Look, I know you mean well. All you do is out of love. I know that. But, I need to do this. It’s… I don’t know… So real. The calling. It almost has a voice,”

“The timing,” was offered as a reminder.

The first time you felt something coming from Hawkins was when the quote unquote earthquake happened. A catastrophic event like that had to have more consequences than just Vecna, you thought. It could have shifted other magic and natural musings.

“I’ve made up my mind,” you stated with boldness beyond your rank in the coven.

“Are you so willing to discount lore?”

“Folklore. It’s 1986. I know witchcraft isn’t a science, but you have to give me more credit than that. We don’t have to listen to every whisper on the wind and take for gospel the tea leaves in our cups… Nuances, you know?”

Your eyes stayed closed and your hand gripped the pen tightly, waiting for a reply to be sprawled out on the page. When nothing more came, ‘Are you so willing to discount lore?’ the last words scribbled in a handwriting not your own, you breathed out hard.

Automatic writing took a lot of energy out of you, but it was the best method of speaking to The Witches Who Came Before. Reading back their psychographic warnings, you felt a small sense of guilt over defying them, but more than guilty, you felt empathy for a town so beaten by evil over and over.

Hawkins was calling.

…

Aid workers, distressed families, and reporters had flooded the small town, making it all the more easy for you to slip by the city limits unnoticed. Although you weren’t sure what should or could be noticing you, there was still a small exhale of relief when you didn’t burst into flames as you drove passed the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign.

The voice calling you to the town hadn’t been polite enough to give specific instructions. In lieu of directions or coordinates, you drove along roads that appeared to be out of the path of the earthquake, finding your way to a bar called The Hideaway.

Inside, patrons sat around watching their town on the news while staff rushed to cook food and package it up for the crisis centers.

“Bit of a wait on food, honey,” a waitress called to you.

“Just after a Coke.”

It seemed uncanny for a bar to be operational in the middle of an emergency, but it also befit a town so used to death. You took your can of Coke from the waitress, left a ten on the counter, and made your way around the tables to get to the noticeboard on the other side of the room.

Lost dogs. Swimming classes. Babysitters for hire. Then, your eyes landed on it.

1BR TRAILER. PARTLY FURNISHED. WATER/ELECTRICITY. NEEDS REPAIR. CHEAP. CALL: FOREST HILLS TRAILER PARK. 312-683-1192.

Maybe it had already been volunteered to home displaced people, but you trusted it was worth a shot. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?” you asked the waitress, walking to the bar and leaning on it. She nodded and dumped the old rotary phone in front of you.

After four rings, “Forest Hills,”

“Ah, hey. I saw your flyer. About the one-bedroom. Is that still available?”

The woman made a scoffing sound. “Apparently beggars can be choosers. Ain’t nothing wrong with that trailer but Red Cross said it ain’t fit for people. On account of the mold, they said.” Her voice was gravelly from a pack a day, but she didn’t sound unkind.

“I don’t mind mold,”

“Guess it’s available then.”

…

The bat had never known illness or injury. Whatever was killing the trees though, had touched him. He didn’t wither and die like other flora and fauna, but he wasn’t unscathed. It was as if he was burnt from the inside out, a mark on his feet spreading slowly but surely.

The sensation was unpleasant at first, but grew more noxious. His wings wouldn’t stretch their full span, and he could only glide small distances. The bat found a small patch of trees not yet turned to ash, settling in at the base of one, hiding under brush for warmth.

It was a fine place to die, if that should be his fate. He was where he belonged.

…

Forest Hills Trailer Park had been subdivided again and again; any spare patch of land was used for caravans and tents of people left homeless or those coming to watch the disaster unfold.

The one-bedroom trailer Michelle, manager of the park, gave you the keys to was indeed in need of repair. There were air vents that sat wide open, the outside cold seeping through. Dark mold grew in the corner of the bedroom’s ceiling. And the carpet should have been replaced years prior.

The very first thing you did once alone in your new home was ring a small bell you kept in your bag. Three shrill rings for good fortune. For everything else, you’d need supplies.

The local general stores would likely be low on stock, and the shopping mall had burnt down only a year ago. It stood in ruin, yet to be redeveloped. Before you ventured to the shops, you decided to take a short walk around Forest Hills and the surrounding land to see what could be foraged.

As you passed people, some looked you up and down, Satanic Panic clouding their perception of anyone they considered to be different from themselves, to be ‘other’ in any way. Some neighbours though, waved and offered a friendly greeting. “Michelle con you into that old trailer?” one asked, to which you politely faked a laugh.

Out beyond the trailers and RVs was a patch of land that seemed unaffected by everything happening in the town. The trees soundproofed the space, making it feel miles away from civilisation. While there wasn’t much in the way of edible mushrooms and plants, nor things needed for your craft, you sensed an undercurrent of magic there.

Crouching down, you picked up a golden leaf, twirling it between your fingers. Close, you thought, but didn’t know what it meant.

It was then you saw it out of the corner of your eyes. Something moved under the tree near you. Small. An animal. A rabbit, maybe? Rats or opossums or a trash-stealing raccoon?

Slowly, you sat down on the forest floor, cross-legged and facing the tree. You would wait until the animal revealed itself on its own terms.

The bat was so weak he could hardly move. He tried to hide away from the human that was watching him, but he couldn’t. When he resigned to his position, he let his vision focus on you.

You weren’t surprised to see the bat. The feeling was relief, like you’d found a missing thing. It was clear something was wrong with the creature though. “Do you need help?” you asked it.

Still slowly, you scooted closer to the bat. There were no obvious signs of injury. His brown fluffy body was free from blood or gore. Perhaps he had torn a wing or flown into a tree.

“I can help,” you whispered, holding a hand out flat to the ground. The tips of your fingers were close enough to the bat that he could bite if he wanted to, or he could shuffle forward into the softness of your hand.

Whatever compelled the bat to never leave Hawkins, compelled him to fall onto your palm.

“Hi,” you greeted, bringing your hand to your chest and holding the bat safely between your hands. “What’s happened?”

The bat was a common species; you recognised him as the aptly named big brown bat. His body was the size of a baseball, and some of his colouring was wrong. His legs and arms would normally be pink, but they were a sickly black colour. It looked like his brown fur was beginning to turn too.

“Did you eat something bad? Accidentally poison yourself?”

The bat, of course, did not answer your questions. You looked around the trees for other lost animals or any sign of something that may have caused your new friend to become sick. When there were no answers there either, you stood and took the both of you back to the trailer.

…

Destiny and a little folly may have led you to Forest Hills and the one-bedroom trailer, but you had come to Hawkins prepared nonetheless. In your car, there were supplies to ensure if you’d had to sleep there for a couple of nights, you could. The bat would benefit from your readiness.

The sleeping bag you’d packed was turned into a soft nest for him. “Alright, let’s get you warm,” you whispered, placing him in the middle. He shuffled on the spot for a few moments before settling, his brown eyes still watching you.

When you offered him a piece of banana, he nibbled at it.

When you gingerly stroked his fur, he let you.

Still, there was something about the way the bat watched you, something in his reaction to your movements. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was most definitely curious.

“Alright, my furry friend. We need provisions. Especially if there’s gonna be two of us.” You spoke to him as you pulled your jacket on and grabbed your bag. “Please be here when I get back. I promise I can help you.”

…

It was dark when you returned home. Stores were staying open late to receive interstate deliveries and provide goods to the in-need townspeople, so you managed to get most things on your list.

Inside the trailer was cold, the spring air outside not yet filtered with summer’s coming warmth. You checked on the bat, ensured he was still cosy in his nest. Then, you got to work.

After soap and scrubbing did its part and the mold was attacked with vinegar and bleach, you boarded up the vents and added repairing them properly to your to-do list. In the bedroom, the bed was covered in fresh linen while you dreamed of a brand new mattress.

The only other furniture in the so-called ‘partly furnished’ trailer was a couple of bar stools at the kitchen bench, a televisionless television stand, a couch in surprisingly good condition, and a coffee table that sat a little too low to the ground.

Next, you took a ritual learned from your sisters whilst in India and let milk and rice boil over on the stove for prosperity and abundance. From time spent in Lowcountry, you observed the practice of painting your porch blue. The trailer didn’t have a porch, but the doorframes would suffice. It would ward off evil spirits, as would the salt ring you ran around the home. Finally, mugwort and sweetgrass smudged through the space, cleansing and claiming it as your own.

By the time you were finished, it was almost midnight and your stomach growled obscenities. The bat had been nibbling on the fruit you’d offered, but you’d not eaten since the morning.

After two cups of noodles and a cup of white jasmine tea, you unpacked the small cat bed you’d purchased for the bat. You relocated him into it, still with the sleeping bag, and pushed it under your bed. He’d like it in the dark, you thought.

Skipping a shower, you changed into pajamas and got into bed. Sleep came quickly, perhaps quicker than it had in decades. You dreamt that night. Of darkness. Of blood. Of screaming. Nothing coherent, nothing recognisable. Just an ominous feeling that you were going to find what you were looking for, ready or not.

End Note: Reblogs and comments are so appreciated. Like I said, it will take a couple of chapters for you to fall in love, but I promise you will.

If you are interested in the witchcraft in the story, check out The Grimoire. It will be updated with each chapter!

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @amira0303 @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @stardustmunson @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire Eddie Munson

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madaqueue · 7 months ago

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Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 12

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). language, fluff. 18+, MDNI

word count: 1.3k

a/n: we're in the home stretch y'all aaaAAH

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A week has passed since you and Yuji told each other your true feelings. Things aren't the same, but you wouldn’t want them to be.

You’ve seen him practically every day since then, whether he’s bringing you lunch between classes or spending the night with each other, you feel like you can finally breathe again when he is with you.

“You know,” he says one night while you’re watching TV in his dorm, “eventually you’re gonna have to tell Fushiguro why you kissed him.” He takes a bite of the cereal sitting in his lap.

“Shit, I can’t believe I forgot to do that. I was honestly so caught up with spending time with you I just didn’t think about it,” you respond truthfully.

“Aww, someone got distracted by me?” he teases, leaning his head over onto your shoulder and looking up at you. You push him off with a chuckle. “Hey now, don’t spill my cereal, I only have one set of sheets here and I’m not about to ruin these,” he laughs, that permanent grin spread across his face.

–

The next morning, you figure it’s time to have that conversation with Megumi. You’ll be seeing him in class today, which at least makes the transition a bit easier. Since you and Yuji made up, you've started coming back out of your shell again and allowing your smile to appear more, which Megumi has noticed but hasn’t verbally acknowledged.

When the lecture concludes, you turn to him before packing your things up.

“Hey, are you free right now? I wanted to talk to you about something,” you say, a soft smile on your face.

“Sure,” he responds, “I found a new cafe if you’d want to try that?” After weeks of barely hearing your voice and never seeing you outside of class, your request makes his heart flutter.

“Actually, I would kind of prefer one we’ve already been to before if that’s alright with you?”

“Of course,” he says, a grin now forming on his face. Seeing you smile is enough to light up the room, and he’s just happy to have you back.

–

Megumi sits at a booth as you walk over holding two drinks in your hand. By now you know his order by heart (it does help that it’s just black coffee) and you place the two mugs down in the middle of the table. You’re back where it all started, in the first coffee shop you two ever went together. The high ceilings, bookshelves lining the walls, and warm light feels like coming home.

You take your seat across from him, thinking about just how long it’s been since you were in his presence like this. Seeing him seated across from you, fluffy black hair and all-black clothes, the familiar warm scent of his cologne, you can feel your body relax a tenseness you didn’t know it still held.

Taking a small sip of your latte, your eyes move up to meet his. “How’s your sister?” you ask.

You can tell by the way he opens his mouth and closes it again, his lips curving up into a smile as he pauses, that this was not how he expected you to start this conversation. “She’s good,” he says, a soft grin on his face. “Her surgery finally got rescheduled for later this month, so hopefully things just keep getting better from there.”

“I’m glad to hear it” you respond, your voice genuine. “I was thinking about her, and you, when we weren’t really talking as much, so I just wanted to check how things were going."

His eyes soften as he looks at you. You really do care about him. “Thanks,” he breathes.

A comfortable silence falls between you for a moment as you both slowly drink your coffees.

“So,” Megumi begins, placing an elbow on the table and his chin in his open palm, “what did you want to talk to me about?”

Your body tenses slightly, knowing this is about to be difficult.

Taking in a deep breath, you open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off before you can get anything out. “Is this about when you kissed me?” he asks, a smirk forming on his lips as he cocks his head to the side.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, breaking eye contact to look down at the table. You didn’t expect him to bring it up so easily, and with such…confidence?

“I figured,” he chuckles. “You know, I might not be the smartest guy here, but don’t forget I know you pretty well.” He pauses, taking another sip of his coffee. “My rough timeline was: you see Yuji at the party, you kiss me, you and Yuji fight, you make up, and now we’re here, right?”

Bringing your eyes back up, you scan his face, trying to identify what emotion he’s feeling as he walks you through exactly what happened over the past few weeks. You expect him to feel angry, betrayed, embarrassed, yet all you seem to find is…amusement?

“Mhm,” you nod, “that’s basically everything.”

His smile widens. “See, I told you I know you. If I’m being honest though, I did cheat a little bit - I could hear Yuji listening to sad music very loudly through the door for a while until it stopped about a week ago, so I figured you two made up.”

“And you’re not mad at me?” you ask, trying to hide how much your voice waivers.

“Of course not,” he chuckles. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I see you strictly as a friend. I love hanging out with you and doing all the stuff we do together, but I never felt like I needed more than that. When you kissed me…” he trails off, reaching his free hand up to the back of his hair, “I figured you were just going through some stuff, and it sounds like I was right.”

You exhale, finally feeling the lingering stress about this conversation leaving your body. Your shoulders relax into the seat behind you and you close your eyes for a minute. “Thank you, Megumi,” you finally respond. “I’m really glad to have a friend like you.” A smile rests on your lips.

Turning back towards him, you open your eyes and reach your hand out to his shoulder. Just like the first time you met, he leans his cheek against the back of your hand as he stares at you from across the table, eyes soft. “Any time,” he whispers.

–

Things are…easy, again. You and Yuji’s friends - now your friends - hang out every weekend, going to some party or just playing board games on the floor of one of their dorm rooms. You grow to love Toge, the sweet white-haired boy who brought you drinks at the first party you went to with Megumi and who you learn helped Yuji smuggle in the red wine that ruined one of your dresses. You get to see Maki and Nobara together, watching how Nobara shamelessly plants herself in Maki’s lap whenever she gets a chance or pretends to steal her glasses before gently placing them back on her face with a kiss. You and Megumi still hang out all the time, too, and you even started going farther and farther off campus to search for new cafes to try. Every morning feels like a gift, in part because you get to wake up next to the warmth of your favorite person.

One night after you and Yuji return to your dorm after karaoke with your friends - at which, Nobara did an incredible rendition of Somebody To Love - the two of you are cuddling in your bed when he pulls away for a moment.

He props himself up on an elbow to look at you, his eyelids low as he traces along your hips with his fingers. He’s in nothing but his sweatpants, you in a loose t-shirt and pajama shorts. “You know…” he says, a grin tugging at the corners of his face, the one that he knows you always melt for, “there’s still one thing we didn’t get to practice.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease with a chuckle. “And what’s that?”

His eyes never leave yours, and you notice them darken slightly as he opens his mouth to speak. His voice comes out low, raspy. “I want to fuck you.”

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couldawouldashoulda50 · 1 year ago

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The Homecoming - Round 1

Overview - William arrives home after the longest road-trip of the 2023/24 season; you both can hardly wait to reconnect.

Pairing: William Nylander x f!reader. (Note- the reader is a globally famous musician/singer/songwriter)

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: 18+ only; pregnancy; smut (oral m & f receiving, intercourse; slight masturbation references); fluff; swearing. Be kind, this is my very first time writing/posting...I may not know what the hell I'm doing...just hope it all makes sense.

A/N - this is part of a William Nylander x reader series that I am working on currently. The following story is based on the present, whereas the WIP series spans the timeframe from when William and the reader meet up to the present day. I’m sorry; I know this might be like reading the ending first, but it’s literally my very first fic post…there was something with this storyline that just flowed so easily. I’ve been anxious to just get it out in the universe so I can get it out of my head...I need to be able concentrate on my actual day job again.

*********************************************************************

You lay in bed, sound asleep; two dogs flank your body, both resting peacefully.

Pablo’s head raises suddenly, followed by Banksy. Each of the dogs leap off of the plush king bed and bolt out of the bedroom as fast as their legs will take them.

You awaken with the sound of William’s voice as he comes through the door at the front entrance of your home, greeting both dogs with loads of love and affection.

“How are my boys? How are you? Were you good for Mama while I was away? Eh? Ooooooh…I missed you guys. I missed your Mama too” William said, half whispering.

Normally you would get up with the dogs and watch the two wriggle and jump up to greet him at the door, smothering him in dog kisses. You would patiently wait your turn and essentially do the same as Pablo and Banksy; you kiss him gently, wrap yourself around him, whispering to him how much you missed him, and how happy you are that he's home. He in turn, would murmur a few things against the sensitive skin behind your ear, mostly naughty things that he’s been wanting to do to you.

But now, being 6 months pregnant, and between the aches in your back and hips and your ever growing tummy, William knew how much harder it’s been for you to get comfortable, especially in bed. He lovingly told you the night before when you spoke that you were to stay put when he arrives home - and no staying awake waiting for him either, he said.

William walks into the overly spacious bedroom with Pablo and Banksy trotting behind him and drops his bags on the couch by the fireplace. As he unbuttons his white dress shirt, he looks over at you and smiles. It always catches you…William has smiled at you a million times over and still, each and every time, your heart expands with absolute adoration for him. “Hi, my love” you say, longingly.

He walks towards the bed, tilting his head to the side to look at your face in the dim light.

“How are you feeling? I forgot to ask you - did this thing help you sleep at all?” William nods his head toward the large body pillow that he brought home for you before he left on his trip.

You break out into a grin. Lately, your hormones have kicked into high gear, with vivid sex images with William being the only thing on your mind. So while the pillow gave you the comfort and support you needed, the firm plush piece that was nestled between your thighs only exasperated your unruly libido. “Hmmm, well…it helped once I actually fell asleep” you said, gliding your hand over the fabric, “but….it’s this thick piece between my legs…all it made me think of is the thick thing between your legs. I feel like a dog in heat…so that part’s been fucking torture.”

William laughs as he continues to undress. He throws his shirt and the rest of his clothing on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed, leaving his shorts on. You immediately stare at his package and bite your lip, unintentionally releasing a tiny moan.

“I mean it…I’m not kidding. It’s all I can think about…and William, I’m telling you….the thoughts I have about you are just fucking filthy”.

You pressed your thighs together against said pillow to try to get some relief from the pressure that’s heightening around your core. You really weren’t exaggerating; your hormones are raging and you swear you could fuck him into next week and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Seriously, you have to help me…it’s required as part of your husband/pre-DILF duties”.

“Didn’t you…you know…take care of ‘business’ yourself at all while I was gone?” a wry smirk appeared on his lips. “You could have mentioned what was going on with you when we Facetimed…I could have…y’know - walked you through what I would have done if I was here…” William said coyly.

“Mmmmm…I thought about it - I thought maybe showing you how badly I needed you while you watched me...taking care of business.. that I would get some relief that way” you said, your voice soft with a hint of seduction.

“But I knew the minute I got going, no matter what I used - fingers, toys…whatever - the only thing that would completely satisfy me is a nice hard dick. And not like my Willy’s cock clone that I have to break out when you’re away - I literally only want your dick inside me. God damn, it’s so fucking good…” you smile up at him, gripping the pillow a little harder now. Even just talking about his cock is turning you on.

“So, yeah…”, your eyes trail back down to his shorts, as you nod to his unwrapped gift “there’s that.” You pause; there’s not many things you feel uncomfortable telling William but you’re not quite certain how he’ll react with your next confession. “There’s something else too. Your joy juice - that’s the other thing I’m craving…fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it. On my face, in my mouth….fed to me….”, you blush and giggle a little with your admissions, but you have no filter now as your desire for him was reaching a fever pitch. “This pregnancy has turned me from a respected musician to William Nylander’s personal cum slut”, you said dryly,

William’s mouth drops open a little but a wry smile begins to form on his lips. “Oh really, eh? You’re my personal cum slut?” he laughs. “Well then…what wifey wants, wifey shall get”.

You watch each movement of his muscular body as he crawls up onto the bed, slides under the sheets and duvet, and shifts his body towards you. He lay on his side, his gorgeous face close enough to yours that you can feel his breath.

“Seriously….I missed you so much, William. It felt like you were gone forever. You looked amazing during the games though…as usual”, you said, bringing your hand up to trace his jawline. You think to yourself, ‘God - you are so gone for this man’.

“I missed you too - it was a long fucking trip....all I wanted was you like this, all... day... long,” William smiles and leans in, kissing you gently; his arms circle around you, supporting your body as he pushes the giant pillow out of the way and engulfs you in his embrace. He slides his hand down onto your baby bump, hoping to feel a kick from your unborn son. You scan his face as he does the same to yours; you gently graze his lips, wanting to breathe him in more. It’s not long before there’s a flurry of activity from your tummy, as though the baby wants to show off some tricks for his Dad.

With you in his arms and feeling his baby kick, William’s turquoise eyes are fixed on yours; he smiles widely at the fluttery feeling from the baby’s movements…he finds himself completely mesmerized by you.

He leans in for a deeper kiss. Your hand snakes along his jawline into his thick mane of blonde hair, pulling his mouth to yours. That initial taste of his tongue against yours evokes a long, breathy moan from your mouth. Your hunger for him now borders on animalistic. You’re afraid that your need for him is wound so tightly that once he touches your engorged pussy, he might actually send you into orbit.

Every touch on each other’s body elicits extended drawn out moans that are untamed, as your mouths feast on each other’s taste.

William’s hand slowly slides along the underside of your round stomach, and in no time, his hand dips under the band of your cotton panties. You’ve told him of your desperation already, but when his middle finger reaches the top of your slit, he moans as slides his thick digit into your wet folds. He watches you as you close your eyes and grip his shoulders at the mere grazing of your clit. Your breathing has already become erratic and he has barely even begun working you over.

“Fuck - please…William…..I need you inside of me…please…” you whisper close to his ear.

“I know - soon, min Ӓlskling…here, come up here, I want to see all of you…I’ve missed touching your body”. William gently removes his fingers from underneath your panties.

William kicks back the sheets and props himself up on his one forearm. You sit up on your knees and William helps you slide your panties off. His eyes darken as he glimpses at your exposed pussy; the sheen of wetness that he spread with his finger apparent.

The road trip was long and despite his focus on the ice - which led to a number of stellar performances from him - when he could allow his thoughts to wander, he only thought about you. Although he knows you desperately need a release, he wants to savour every moment of this homecoming too. He planned to take his time with you, he just didn’t expect you to be wound so tightly with your pent up yearning for him.

His hands reached out to caress your pregnant belly again; William is completely infatuated with the way you look. Prior to getting pregnant, your breasts were already one of his favourite features on you but in the past month, they have become even more full and voluptuous. His hands move up from your stomach and they cup each breast. You look down at his shorts which are fully tented now and you can hardly wait to wrap your hand, your mouth, your core, in whatever order, around his thick member.

William raises himself up and begins to kiss your neck, slowly and sensually. His mouth feels so agonizingly good; you whisper how in love you are with him as you run your fingers through his hair. William begins kissing your soft, round breast and with his tongue pointed, he slowly begins to lick your tightened nipple in a circular motion. The intense sensation of his wet tongue and hot breath connecting with your nipple immediately rocks you; your body is so highly sensitive to his touch, everything he does sends a shockwave down to your core. You can’t help but to grab the back of his head with your one hand, fisting his hair in order to keep his mouth latched to your nipple. Seeing your reaction as he continues to lick and suck on one of your tits, he begins to manipulate your other nipple with the fingers of his left hand.

His other hand begins to travel down from your stomach to your pussy, now drenched in your juices. His middle finger toys with your clitoris, and he feels your grip tightening in his hair. He inserts his middle finger deep into your core, and as he gyrates his hand, you cry out to him, grabbing his wrist as your hips begin to writhe around on his hand. He begins to alternate between finger-fucking you and spreading your wetness around your highly sensitive bud.

William withdraws both his mouth from your nipple and his finger from your folds. You whimper at their departure but the sound is muffled by his mouth as he kisses you slowly. You lessen your grip on his hair as your mouths and tongues lightly graze each other. Exhaling deeply and biting your lip yet again, you lean your forehead against his, trying to stabilize your breathing.

With your fingers splayed wide, you run both your hands down his chest. You don’t know how you’ve gotten to be so fortunate to be able to touch this man so intimately.

“Climb on top of me, Y/N…on top of my face” William said in a voice low and gravelly, as he lay on his back. “I wanna make you cum so hard for me”

William knows in once sense that he might be tormenting you a little with not just fucking you into the mattress like he knows you want. It might seem selfish, but he’s been needing you as much as you’ve needed him lately, and he’s looking to draw this out for a little longer to savour every bit of you.

William helps you straddle him. Having your legs opened up, allowing your pussy to connect with William’s muscular torso gives way to the urge to rub and grind your dripping cunt against him. William’s eyes are transfixed on your movements; he’s completely engrossed watching you rock back and forth, while you cradle the underside of your belly for support. You look ethereal, angelic even as your long hair sweeps across his forearms. Your eyes are fluttering shut; waves of desire pulsate through your core. You lean your head back and your long curls fall between his legs and start grazing his member.

William’s hands move around your body, his desire for you on full display.

“Come here…come up here - I need to taste you now, Y/N”.

You lace your fingers with William’s as he helps you move on your knees until your swollen entrance is hovering above his mouth. The initial contact when his pointed tongue licks the entire length of your wetness has you clutching the headboard. ‘You’re in trouble now’ you think to yourself.

William expertly swirls his tongue around your aching nub as he steadies your hip movements with his strong grip to the rhythm he has dictated. He continues to alternate between sucking on your sweet spot and tongue-fucking you, driving you to the edge of insanity with the stimulation. The vibration of each moan from William adds to the intense pleasure that courses through your body. You match his moans with shrieks of delight, quivering whimpers, and his name falling from your lips on a continuous loop.

Suddenly, your head snaps back as your cunt is flushed with heat, and instinctively you clench your inner walls. You can feel your orgasm building like a tidal wave and you slam both hands against the headboard and grip the fabric for dear life.

“Will! Will - Willi-um - I’m…fuck!! Oh my GOD…please! William!” letting out a sharp cry as your voice strains.

William keeps working his magic between your thighs, his hands still in control of your hip movements.

You might end up tearing your upholstered headboard at this rate, your knuckles have turned white from your vice-grip like hold. Your mouth is open but there is no sound, only heavy pants as your hips try to buck wildly against William’s restraint.

Then your orgasm hits, crashing into you like a tidal wave making you cry out for William. You grab a hold of the pillow that William’s head is resting on; your breath is shaking as your body slows its writhing, twitching with your final release.

You lift yourself up so you could scooch down a little further back onto his torso; up until now, your pregnant belly obstructed your view of William’s face while he worked you into delirium.

“Oh my God….William….” you said as you looked down at him. You smooth his tousled hair from his face and using the side of your thumb, you start to gently swipe your lady juice from around his mouth and his dense five o’clock shadow.

His eyes are locked on yours and as he sits up, he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. “See how fucking good you taste?” he said, smirking.

“You are fucking incredible…absolutely amazing, my husband…” you said breathlessly, lips still connected with his.

You remain straddling William and you reach behind to gently touch his fully erect cock. You feign surprise as though you had opened up the best present of your life, letting out a gasp followed by a moan. Your gaze returns to William’s face and in a voice thick with desire, you simply say “Mmmm…my turn…”

You are desperate to quench the insatiable urge to taste his cum. You slide off William’s lap and he lets himself fall back onto the mattress. You start by kissing and running your tongue down his flesh towards his cock. When you reach his treasure trail, you take your time stroking his path with your tongue. You work your way down until his flawless member is directly in front of you; his above average length and supreme girth makes your mouth salivate and pussy throb simultaneously. The head of his dick is coated with pearlized liquid and you waste no time by running your tongue along his tip, dipping your tongue into the hollow spot at the top repeatedly which encourages more precum to leak from the smooth head.

Grunts and groans, followed by your name fall from William’s mouth as you accept the full length of his firm cock toward the back of your throat. Your senses are going wild; the feel of his dick in your mouth, the faint smell of his body wash and cologne, the salty-sweet taste of his seeping arousal. You try to shift your body to find a more comfortable angle as you continue to suck and deep-throat his member. You love giving him head, but the discomfort from leaning over with a baby growing inside of you is creating a lot of pressure around your abdomen and back.

“William - I’m so sorry…I don’t think I can lean over like this…the baby…”

William sits up, a slight look of concern on his face. “Are you ok?? Do you want to stop?”

“NO!! God - no…I just need to find a better position” you said, rubbing your belly.

William leans over the side of the bed reaching for the large pregnancy pillow he bought you. You watch this dream of a man shift the other pillows that have been strewn around on the bed to make room. He’s kneeling as he guides you towards the pillow, his leg muscles showing every contour and his magnificent cock juts out, still rigid from what you were doing to him with your mouth moments ago.

“Let me hear how much you missed my cock fucking you,” William growled as he kissed your mouth.

You crawl over to the pillow, your round ass up in the air, on display for William. You look back at him, flip your hair to the side and smile sweetly as he stares at you, his mouth slightly agape.

You manipulate the pillow so it supports your entire midriff comfortably. Conveniently, it also allows you to arch your back a little more; it’s a clear invitation to William that you want whatever he’s offering from behind. His dick starts to twitch - William knows exactly what you want from him in this position.

Your pussy is already wet, but William’s cock is substantial and needs extra lubrication before he enters you. His fingers deftly caress your clitoris and as you moan his name, and it’s not long before he knows you’re primed and ready for him. He gives you a kiss on one of your ass cheeks and then gives you a little spank. He lines the tip of his dick up to your swollen folds, running it through the wetness that has pooled at your centre. He begins to push his dick into your entrance slowly; his strong grip on your hips helping him slide in.

You moan loudly as his cock stretches your walls; the initial pain quickly gives way to pleasure as your eyes roll into the back of your head. William buries his cock deep into your core and when he’s fully inside of you, he holds you in position for a moment. You clench around his cock and you give into the urge to rotate your hips just to feel his dick move inside of you.

You glance at William over your shoulder as your pent up desire gives way to full desperation for him to fuck you hard. William’s gaze meets yours; a crooked smile starts to form on his face.

William begins with slow movements - he is torturing you in the best possible way right now. He knows the build-up will be more satisfying for you in the long run rather than just pounding your pussy mercilessly straight out of the gate.

“William…oh my god” you whisper breathlessly. “Please….you feel so fucking good…please, I need you to fuck me…” you beg.

You try to satiate your need for him to rail you by rotating and bucking your hips as he presses his cock deeper each time he enters you.

You hear a faint chuckle from William followed by a low moan as he increases his speed.

Your face falls and is now buried in the pillow and your words are muffled as he begins his firm and rhythmic thrusts.

“Oh my God William….oh my god…fucking….please….fuck me…” you wail. As he moves in and out of your cunt, he can feel the hard grip of your walls around his shaft

“Fuuuuck me…you are so fucking tight Y/N…” William grits his teeth as he continues to bury his cock inside of you, thrusts becoming more rapid; the erotic sounds of grunts and moans from both of you collide with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You clutch the sheets as he continues to ride you hard. He grabs the meatier flesh at the top of your ass and continues to pound you, your moans sound more like a siren now…continuous cries reverberate off the walls.

He gathers your hair into his one hand as his other hand moves up and grips your shoulder, allowing him to penetrate you deeper. You feel like you’re descending into insanity, your mind is overwhelmed by pure ecstasy and all you can do is succumb to your body’s state of bliss.

William looks down at you as his fast and powerful thrusts are making your legs start to quiver. He watches as your toned muscles in your arms and back constrict, covered in a light sheen of sweat as he fulfils all of your desires. William growls as he reaches the height of his arousal; his hips move erratically and his fingertips indent your flesh ever further. He looks down and sees your own arousal decorating his cock with opaque streaks as it pools around his base. He grunts at the sight of your slickness and is so close to relief but he wants to make sure you cum first.

“I’m so close, baby - fuck….fuck….you feel so fucking good” William groans.

Your cheeks are blazing hot as your orgasm takes hold of your body. It’s a feeling so intense that your body feels like it’s short-circuiting. “I’m right there - right there….oh my God William!” you shriek, grappling with the mattress from the sheer force of your release. Your thighs try to close together and you buck wildly as your pussy clenches William’s cock so hard that you push him right out of you. William quickly grabs his dick and with a few firm pumps, he unleashes his load onto your ass.

“Holy shit Y/N….” William said after a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

You lie there, body still trembling as the aftershock of such a forceful orgasm travels through your body. You remain in the same position with William still behind you. You shift your head so your forehead is resting on the pillow as your breathing begins to slow.

“Y/N?” William’s voice is soft and low.

“Mmmm-hmm” is all you can muster. He senses you smiling into the pillow.

“You still have that craving? You know…my - what’d you call it….joy juice?

Drawing out the same sound, you respond “Mmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmm” while giving your ass a little wiggle.

You hear William chuckle slightly as he runs two fingers through the streams of his cum on your skin. You manage to find the strength to push yourself back up onto your hands, flipping your matted curls to the side as seductively as possible. He stares at your mouth as you accept his coated middle and ring fingers, your tongue swirling around his digits, making sure you’ve licked every single drop of his cum from his fingers. You hold onto his hand, placing open-mouthed kisses on his palm and then place it on your still hot cheek. He responds by placing gentle kisses along your shoulder-blade and murmurs how much he loves you.

Gingerly, you both begin to move; he comes along to your side and helps guide your body back in between the arms of the pregnancy pillow. He peppers you with kisses and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, unable to stop smiling. He manages to squeeze in right next to you and as he pulls you into his chest, you exhale deeply. This is your favourite spot in the whole world; wrapped in William’s arms, your face against his broad and beautiful chest.

“You feel better now - you got what you wanted?” William quietly asks, chuckling into your hair.

“I think I’m still cumming, if that’s even possible…so fucking good”, you mumble into his chest.

After a few minutes, William kisses the top of your head and starts to get up out of bed.

“I’ll be back in a second…do you need anything?”

You moan and exaggerate a pout followed by a smile….never wanting to leave the warmth and comfort of his embrace. You smile and shake your head ‘no’ while sliding towards the edge of the bed, holding your belly and trying to look somewhat graceful. William offers both of his hands to help stand you up. You grab William’s white dress shirt from the end of the bed and put it on; his natural smell mixed with his cologne almost makes you weak in the knees.

William pulls you back into him, his hands roaming under his dress shirt as he presses his lips against yours. “You have to let me take a picture of you in this…you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you look right now”.

You smile against his lips. “You can do whatever you want with me when you come back to bed”. Your hands slowly descend to his ass; you gently rub yourself against his member, now cloaked under his shorts.

William groans against your lips and apprehensively breaks from your embrace. He summons for the dogs to come.

“I’m taking the dogs out so we can sleep in a bit tomorrow. Get ready for Round 2” he purrs.

You watch him walk away with the dogs in tow; the view of his muscular stature and his tight round ass as he exits your bedroom has you clenching your thighs, needing him all over again.

#william nylander #hockey fic #nylander #nhl imagine #nylander x reader #toronto maple leafs #nylander smut #hockey fanfiction #nhl blurb #smut

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laracrofted · 7 months ago

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baby, i'm high octane (vii)

synopsis: over the course of the last month of the documentary, nora makes some decisions.

pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, all of the usual warnings, swearing, existential dread, spoilers for ocean's eleven lol, smut (like a little bit, oral sex, allusions to sex) (wc: 12.7K)

note: y'all, it's been so long, i'm so sorry 😭 but i hope the ridiculously long chapter makes up for the wait. last chapter before the epilogue woo!

previous chapter | series post | next chapter

TAGS: @theharddeck @mamachasesmayhem @bradshawsbitch @hangmanbrainrot @startrekfangirl2233 @kandierteveilchen @lostinwonderland314 @hangmanscoming @t-nd-rfoot @sometimesanalice @dempy @mlibbydp @bellaireland1981 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @averagereader35 @eli2447 @filmflux @bethbunnyy @callsignspark @kajjaka @roosterbruiser @djs8891

Nora spends the whole weekend with Jake.

She doesn’t plan to spend the whole weekend with him. It’s one of those things that just kind of happens, like getting caught up in a good book and realizing it’s been hours and you haven’t moved an inch.

It’s not something she does. It’s more what she doesn’t do.

She doesn’t kick him out on Thursday night as soon as Jake has his pants on, doesn’t push him barefoot in the direction of the door with a Thanks for the sex, come back anytime.

She doesn’t make up a half-hearted excuse, some reason that she needs to be up early in the morning to keep him from sleeping over.

It’s so simple, really.

She never asks him to leave, and so, Jake stays.

On Friday morning, Jake brings her coffee in bed.

She is still half-asleep, sheets all bunched up under her chin, hair fanned messily across the sun-warmed pillows, cheeks flushed. A wide cat-like yawn escapes her as Nora stretches her arms above her head and reaches for the coffee with a slightly hoarse thank you.

Holding the mug in one hand, she rubs the harsh sting of sunshine from her eyes, knuckles creating starbursts on her eyelids, while Jake sprawls across the bed.

He is shirtless, a gold shimmer of chest hair running down his abdomen and disappearing under the black waistband of his boxer shorts. A ripple passes over his ab muscles as Jake stretches out and gets comfortable, searching for her leg through the crumpled pile of sheets.

He strokes a comforting pattern across her calf, across the curve of her knee, and back down again, propped on his elbow to watch her face.

“How’d I do?” Jake asks, nodding to the coffee. His voice is a low murmur, soft as the blueish morning light that filters in between the sheer curtains.

Holding his gaze, Nora raises the mug to her lips and takes a long, luxurious sip.

She almost sighs out loud. It’s perfect.

A half-faded conversation from last night pulls at the edge of her mind, muddled by drowsiness and sleep, like a dream.

She was half-awake, already caught in the deep tide of sleep, almost pulled under from the head rush that washed over her in the late hours of the night after Jake kissed damn near every inch of her and got back in line for seconds. A fuzziness in her fingertips, like Nora was taking her first dizzied steps off of the Tilt-A-Whirl at Pacific Park on the Santa Monica Pier, finding her sea legs in the closeness of him; a kind of gravity in the warmth of his chest, pressed against her bare back.

He wrung another orgasm from her minutes before, and in the afterglow, Nora melted into him like warmed butter, letting out a satisfied hum in the darkness.

Lips warm on her shoulder, Jake asked, “How d’you like your coffee?”

Her lids were so heavy, and Nora let her eyes close.

“Hm,” Nora hummed. “Guess.”

He chuckled, and Nora’s lips curved at the sound, at the warm puff of breath on her nape.

“Can’t ever make it easy on me, can you, Hollywood?”

“Oh,” Nora yawned out. “Not a chance.”

Jake shifted behind her, closer, and Nora sank further into the warm embrace of his muscular arms around her, so secure and solid. Comforting. Her own personal space heater in the form of a hot Naval aviator.

Who would’ve thought a man called Hangman would be such a cuddle?

And more, who would’ve thought she’d like it so much?

His fingers tangled with hers as Jake seemed to consider his next words, his guess.

“‘Course not. Let’s see. It’s….” Jake’s lips found the hollow beneath her ear, and Nora breathed a shallow gasp. “What? Oat milk and vanilla?”

All of the sudden, Nora felt very awake.

Her eyes flew open, and Nora startled, but Jake was too octopus-like around her for her to crane her neck around and look at him.

“Wow,” Nora said, her raised brows audible in her voice. “Tracking me, Lieutenant?”

“I’m observant.” Jake shifted again. “It’s part of what makes me a great pilot, sweetheart.”

And was that a hint of self-consciousness in his sleep-slurred voice? Underneath all of that self-assured confidence and bottomless bravado?

She kind of wanted to see if Jake was blushing.

His fingers flexed around hers, and Nora lightly squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back. Kissed the now-familiar curve of her shoulder and said, “Also, you drink the same thing every day. I’d have a hard time not noticing.”

“Yeah?” Nora smiled. “You must spend a lot of time looking at me.”

“Ever since I saw you, I haven’t wanted to look away.”

There in the dark, Jake’s words sounded like a confession, so open, so sincere.

She drifted off to sleep in his arms, a smile on her face, a pleasant and gnawing ache in her chest.

Now, vanilla and sugar on her tongue, Nora says, “Not bad, Lieutenant.”

Another sip. Another blissful half-sigh.

“It’s actually so good,” Nora concedes. “It’s perfect.”

A smile pulls at the edge of his mouth, and Jake replies, softly, “Good.”

A quick kiss glances against the side of her knee, and Jake sits up and brushes her hair from her pink cheeks.

She is flushed from sleep; warm from the sun and him.

He’s sitting so close; looking at her with such open adoration that she feels like she’s burning.

“You’re staring,” Jake drawls with a slow smirk. You have a staring problem. His voice is like the low rumble of a distant summer storm and slightly hoarse, and Nora wants to wrap herself in it like a blanket and sleep the rest of the day away.

Instead, Nora carefully sets the coffee on the nightstand and cupping his face between her hands, kisses him.

For once, she catches him off guard.

A deep, surprised sound punches out of him – half exhale, half groan.

She loops her arms around his strong neck, pulling him in, needing to be closer to him. Her fingers brush over the shorter hairs at his nape, curl in the longer strands, damp from where Jake must’ve showered before Nora woke. Dark gold, like a bottle of maple syrup in the sunlight.

Catching on, Jake bends a hand around the back of her neck and rolls her underneath him on the mattress, following her down, his mouth on hers the whole way down. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip and into her mouth, and Nora opens for him with a sigh.

It’s slow and natural.

Would it always be like this? So easy? she wonders as Jake slides his hand up her side, fingers fanning across her ribcage and higher. Would it be as easy as falling asleep in his arms and waking up to the rich smell of coffee in the morning and kissing slowly like both of them know there will be other kisses, other mornings?

His hand cuts across her abdomen, and Jake covers her breast with his palm, and Nora lets the thought go, like the end of a balloon string, and arches into him.

There are suddenly too many layers between them.

And impatient, Nora kicks the sheets away and, hooking her leg around his hip, pushes his boxers down and frees his cock. He groans against her mouth, a sweet and rough sound, a reverent sound.

One hand comes down to hold her against him, rough palm sliding across the back of her thigh and up and up, and Nora shudders against him as Jake runs his fingers through the wetness that’s building between her legs.

He still has his other hand on the back of her neck, pad of his thumb swiping across her thrumming pulse, and hell, Nora almost wants to reach up and pull his hand around, urge him to spread those broad fingers across her collarbone, across her throat and –

Another time.

She breaks the kiss and breathes, “Turn over,” against his mouth.

And Jake – damn him – does this thing with his fingers that makes her brain go blank for a solid five seconds. Like Nora’s been put on airplane mode.

A grin dimples his cheeks as Jake looks down at her, lids low, lips parted just enough to show his teeth. “Now, isn’t that my line, sweetheart?”

She bites down on her bottom lip, holding back something halfway between a laugh and a moan. “Just… get on your back.”

It’s actually obscene how effortlessly Jake flips them.

He reaches for her again, moving to pull her forward and settle between her open legs, hand around his hard cock, but Nora plants her hands on his stupidly broad shoulders and pushes him back down.

He could so easily resist her, but Jake lets her lead.

He looks up at her from the pillows with a familiar gleam in his eyes. “What’re you up to, sweetheart?”

“You know…” Nora murmurs against his neck. “I had something I wanted to do last night.”

She kisses down his neck, across his shoulders – his beautiful shoulders – and down the center of his chest, memorizing the golden skin and hard muscle in the blue morning. He really is so goddamn handsome.

His gaze is molten, melted gemstones. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She moves down his abdomen, admiring the way Jake’s muscles shudder under the soft press of her lips. She notices Jake is holding his breath, and Nora smirks. Good. She wants him a little uneven.

She looks up at him from under her lashes. “You wouldn’t let me suck your cock.”

“I was being a gentleman,” Jake argues.

“Well, in that case, allow me to thank you.”

Nora runs her hand over his cock, stroking him once, twice, and puts her mouth around him, and Jake makes a choked sound, breathing in sudden and sharp, a fragile sound that quickly fades into a broken groan.

“Christ, Nora…” Jake groans, reaching down, his large hand settling on the back of her head, like Jake needs something to ground himself, fingers threading through her hair.

She hums around him in response, and Jake lets out a breathless, “Fuck,” that’s as flattering as a compliment.

It’s all moans and groans and soft breaths and Nora sweetheart Nora Jesus Christ until Nora looks up at him and murmurs coyly, “Come for me, cowboy,” and half a breath later, Jake finishes in her mouth.

She swallows with a smug grin, and Jake swears again, his cheeks darkening.

He drapes an arm over his face and lets out a string of breathless swears that make Nora laugh.

“Are you okay?” Nora asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stretches out next to him as Jake catches his breath.

“I think I might be dead,” Jake mumbles from under his arm, voice muffled, “but good news, I’m definitely in heaven.” He lifts his arm slightly and looks at her sidelong, slanted green eyes full of suggestion. “You wanna be my plus one?”

Her laugh splits into a gasp as Jake slips a hand between her legs.

The coffee is cold when Nora reaches for it again, finding her breath between sips, resting her head on his flushed, sweat-misted chest, but she can’t bring herself to care. She drinks every single drop.

Saturday comes in a blink, and Nora drags Jake to the farmers market in Little Italy.

Or rather, Nora gets dressed in the morning, trading his oversized button-down for a white shirt and a pair of overall shorts, and starts saying, “So I’m thinking about going to the farmers market if you want…” and Jake immediately grabs his keys, a horseshoe shaped bottle opener dangling from the keychain.

She loves to visit the local markets of new cities as a way to get to know them.

In San Diego, Nora has made a habit of going to the Little Italy Mercato every other weekend to stock up on fresh produce and browse the local art that’s for sale, a whole spread of gorgeous art prints, ceramics, and glassware.

A few weeks back, Nora found a handmade pitcher the color of blue bottle-glass and started filling it with fresh farm-grown flowers ever since. A bright spot of color on her bedroom sill.

It should feel weird that Jake’s there – stepping into this Saturday morning ritual that’s only ever been hers – but it’s actually nice, really nice.

He holds her hand as Nora walks around the street, wandering an aimless zig-zag between the stands, doubling back for the ones that catch her eye.

Her reusable bag grows heavier on her shoulder, slowly filling with fresh fruits and vegetables and even, a heart-shaped bottle of raspberry wine from a Temecula winery, and Nora’s shoulder begins to ache. She moves the bag to her hand and rolls out the minor discomfort in the muscle.

While Nora is distracted at the flower stand, Jake pulls the bag from her loose fingers and swings it over his opposite shoulder and links their hands again.

At first, Nora doesn’t even notice. She is busy sliding her credit card back into her wallet and clicking the no-receipt button on the iPad screen, but the older woman who is wrapping the flowers for her doesn’t miss a thing. She makes enough fuss for the both of them.

“What a nice young man.”

Nora almost snorts. She really wants to laugh, but doesn’t want to accidentally offend the nice woman who has no idea of the effect those words will have on the man behind her. Jake nudges Nora’s hip, biting back a grin, and collects the expertly-wrapped bouquet from the vendor.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jake drawls with a dimpled smile so sugar-sweet that Nora could spoon it into a bottle and use it to sweeten her coffee in the morning. Asshole.

She looks at him sideways, and Jake is already looking at her, a victorious lift to his mouth, like You see? See the sweet old lady who thinks I’m nice?

As Nora wades back into the crowd, a little flushed, Jake leans down and says, “Hear that? I’m a nice young man,” right against her ear.

Now, Nora does laugh.

“Debatable,” she says.

He laughs. His breath is warm on the side of her neck, and Nora feels his lips brush against her skin, against her hair, for the briefest moment. Shorter even, barely even a blink.

It’s a cloudless morning, but Nora holds back a shiver.

I could kiss him, she absently realizes. She wouldn’t have to do anything more than turn her head, maybe raise her chin, and she would be kissing him. She can just do that now.

She slows at the realization, but Jake is smiling, sun-bright, and asks, “You hungry?”

She feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the summer breeze, the late morning sun on her freckling shoulders and cheeks. She basks in the feeling, in the buzz of a beautiful Saturday morning that’s brought half of San Diego out into the sunshine.

Her stomach grumbles, and Nora nods.

“Come on, I know just the place,” Jake says.

His hand slips out of hers to find the small of her back as Jake leads her out of the crowd.

Back on Coronado Island, Jake drives along Orange Ave for a while before pulling into the parking lot of a cute diner called Starboard Side.

This must be the place Jake mentioned on the Fourth, Nora realizes, where he wanted to take her on a date.

She is smiling to herself when Jake opens the blue door for her.

It’s the very definition of charming. Sun-soaked and eclectic with deep blue wallpaper on one end of the diner – covered in a nautical pattern of anchors, ships, and ocean waves – and wood paneling on the other, painted a bright sunflower yellow.

She steps around a cluster of people who are waiting around the made-to-order coffee counter, either waiting for their order or waiting for one of the blue stools along the counter to be available, and Jake leads her to a booth in the corner.

“This is the best booth in here. It’s got the best window,” Jake says firmly and also in a way that makes her feel like he is waiting for her to agree with him, like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. Like Jake picked out the best booth in the diner to impress her.

It’s equal parts endearing and ridiculous, which somehow makes it all the more endearing.

Smiling, Nora slides in across from him, the sun-bleached vinyl under her legs warm against her bare skin. “It’s beautiful. Do you come here a lot?”

“I’ve been coming here for years,” Jake answers, “since I was first at Top Gun. It’s the perfect amount of miles from the base for a morning run so I’d run here and back and carb load in between. Do you like pancakes or waffles?”

“Who do you think I am? Pancakes, of course,” Nora says, and Jake’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“They’ve got really good pancakes.”

He slides a laminated menu across the checkered table and points to one of the dishes in the Starboard Combos section, and as Nora follows along with his recommendation, walking her through his go-to orders, her hair slips into her face.

It’s been everywhere all morning, a little wild from the warmth of the day, a little windswept from the sea salt breeze coming off the ocean, frizzing and curling around her shoulders. She almost got fed up and braided it on the drive here, but all morning, Jake has been playing with the loose strands of blonde hair, absentmindedly reaching over and running it between his fingers on the Coronado Bridge, brushing it back from her face in the market check-out line when Nora’s hands were too full to do it herself.

He’d been doing it in bed too, curling a strand around his finger and complimenting the smell of her shampoo.

Every easy and casual touch sends a little thrill dancing through her stomach so Nora left it down.

She sweeps it over her shoulder and studies the menu.

A smiling waitress comes by to grab their orders and flits over to collect a stack of dirty dishes from the next table over, a spiral notepad tucked into the band of her brightly colored apron. She returns a few minutes later to set down their coffees and is gone again.

It’s just them now. Just them again.

She stirs the coffee with a metal spoon, oversized ice cubes clinking gently against the sides of the wide-mouth jar. She licks the sugar from the spoon and sets it back down on a paper napkin and watches him.

He rests his cheek on his open palm, curving his other hand around the chipped handle of the baby blue diner mug and watches her back.

He ordered his coffee with cream and sugar and his eggs sunny side up, and Nora snatches up those little shining details like a magpie. She adds them to the picture of him in her mind.

He likes his coffee a little sweet. He likes pancakes. He likes her.

A golden beam of sunlight slants through the large window at their side, the best window in the whole diner. It’s almost noon, and in the afternoon light, Jake looks relaxed and thoughtful, edges softened, all dimples and laugh lines.

She notices a small hole in the collar of his shirt – barely even noticeable – and Nora latches onto that small imperfection like a lifeline, proof that Jake isn’t something Nora dreamed up. He’s real, heart-achingly so.

“So…” Nora says.

“So…” Jake echoes.

So…

So, what does this mean?

So, what do people talk about on first dates that feel like fifth, sixth, seventh dates?

So so so.

“So,” Nora says again. A complete sentence. She rests her chin on her interlaced fingers, mimicking his posture, half leaned forward, shoulders relaxed. “I have a question for you, Texas.”

His lips quirk. “Yeah? What kind of question?”

She dips her chin, lips pursed against a smile. “A very important one.”

A dimple springs up in his cheek as Jake drawls, “Hit me, Hollywood,” in a voice full of Texas.

“What is…” Nora reaches for her coffee. Draws out the suspense. “…your favorite movie?”

The corner of his mouth kicks up, and Nora narrows her eyes.

“Careful now. There are wrong answers here.”

“I’m not worried, sweetheart,” Jake replies with a casual sip of coffee, sprawling posture matching his words. “That’s an easy one. It’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Robert Redford and Paul Newman. Got anything harder for me?”

Asshole, Nora thinks with affection.

A cowboy movie for a cowboy. Of course.

And Nora lets out an approving, “Good movie,” instead of damn.

Because maybe, just maybe if Jake had god awful taste in movies – like, I respect you less as a person now bad – Nora could pour sand over the sparks that kick to life in her chest whenever Jake’s arm so much as brushes against hers. Damn damn damn.

And Jake’s smile is a little smug, a little knowing. “You like that I like good movies, don’t you? It kinda turns you on.”

“I’m not answering that,” Nora says, which might as well be an answer, and Jake’s grin sharpens.

She pointedly ignores him, cheeks warm, and sips her coffee. “Is there a story there? Or are you really that much of a cowboy?”

He makes a noncommittal sound, not ignoring the question, not answering either.

This is a date, not an interview, Nora reminds herself. She doesn’t push.

He brings the mug to his lips and asks, “What about you? What’s yours?”

“Oh, I – ” Nora makes a face. “I don’t know if I have one.”

Shaking his head, Jake shoots her a disbelieving look. “You’re not getting out of this one, Hollywood, not a chance. You have to have one.”

Nora laughs. “I don’t know. It’s all just so subjective. I like a lot of movies for a lot of different reasons.” She gestures to him. “I mean, don’t you? Doesn’t everyone?”

“Sure,” Jake says slowly, “but you must have a favorite.”

“That’s what I’m saying. A movie can be a favorite for any number of reasons, like, if you see a movie at the exact right time or maybe, with the exact right person or both, and it’s almost like the movie found you and not the other way around.”

A half-smile forms on his face as Jake listens to her.

“It’s hard to pick one favorite. How do you compare that – that raw emotional experience – with a movie that’s objectively very good from a craft perspective?”

“You tell me, sweetheart,” and Jake chuckles when Nora gives him a look. “Alright, what about two movies?”

“Two?”

“Yeah.” He holds up two fingers. “Pick two favorites.”

Two favorites. She can probably do two.

Thinking for a moment, Nora says, “When Harry Met Sally. One, because it’s amazing movie and the best rom-com of our time, obviously.”

She waits expectantly until Jake echoes, obviously, with a smile.

“Two, because I watched it in high school with my mom. I was supposed to go to this pool party that a girl in my grade was throwing for her birthday, but I got super sick, and I was so upset. It was like, all I’d been looking forward to that week. My mom canceled her plans and stayed in with me.” She smiles at the memory. “We spent the whole night on the couch, eating pizza and watching a Meg Ryan marathon on cable. It’s been a favorite of mine ever since.”

Gaze warm, Jake absorbs this with a nod. “What’s your second favorite?”

“Ocean’s Eleven,” Nora answers without hesitation. “I was obsessed with George Clooney when I was a kid. I once wrote him a letter and asked him to be my step-dad. He never got back to me, unfortunately.”

His laugh lights up his whole face. “God, of course you did. How’d your mom feel about that?”

“She would’ve gotten on board. It’s George Clooney,” Nora says simply, like it’s obvious.

His foot brushes against hers underneath the table, his ankle slotting into the space between hers, and something about it feels so intimate that Nora almost shivers.

After a moment, Jake offers, “I saw Butch and Sundance with my dad.”

An answer to a question Nora didn’t ask out loud.

Surprised, Nora pauses. “Your dad?”

A nod as Jake runs his hand over his nape. “Austin had this retro movie theater that used to play old movies on Saturday and Sunday mornings for real cheap, like five bucks, maybe even less back then. My football practice got rained out one weekend, and for once, my dad wasn’t working so we went to see Butch and Sundance. It’s probably the best afternoon I ever had with him.” A fraction of the seriousness washes from his face as Jake winks and adds, “And I’m that much of a cowboy, sweetheart. You should see my Stetson collection back home.”

A charmed smile pulls at her mouth, and Nora chooses her words carefully. “You’ve never mentioned your dad before.”

One of his shoulders rises and falls. “We’re not close. He was kind of an asshole even then, always on me about every little mistake I’d make during games, every A-minus that should’ve been an A. He only got meaner as I got older.” He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “My parents split up when I was in high school. He was a real dick to my mom during the divorce, so I don’t see him unless I have to now.”

“My dad’s an asshole too,” Nora says. “George Clooney would’ve been much better.”

Jake laughs, and Nora smiles, kind of proud of herself.

The waitress comes back with their food, and Nora slides the plate of blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of her. She carefully unrolls her knife and fork and sets the napkin across her lap. She doesn’t want any crushed blueberry stains on these overalls.

An unladylike sound almost escapes her mouth at her first bite, and Nora closes her mouth around the sound.

“You were right about the pancakes.”

“Of course I was.”

Nora rolls her eyes, and Jake chuckles.

Washing it down with a sip of coffee, Nora says, “You never told me your second favorite movie.”

Jake breaks off a piece of whole-wheat toast and dips it in yellow egg yolk. He pops it in his mouth and grinning around the bite, replies, “You already know my second favorite.”

“I do?” She sets her fork down, already sticky with maple syrup.

He nods, not giving her any hints, waiting for her to catch up with him, to keep up.

She wracks her brain for any movie Nora had ever heard Jake mention. She can’t think of a single one. She's about to fold her cards and ask him to tell her until –

“Oh my god. You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not,” Jake says, amused.

She stares at him, mouth open slightly. “You can’t be serious. Your favorite movies are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of the best Westerns of all time, which has been preserved by the Library of Congress for being culturally significant, and – ”

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” Jake finishes with a grin. He cocks his head. “What can I say? I love McConaughey.”

His smile splits wide open when Nora bursts out laughing.

After, when Nora is leaving the diner, full of good food, Jake walks ahead of her to check the parking meter, and watching him, Nora has the most disorienting urge to walk over and wrap her arms around him. Press her cheek into the wrinkle of soft heather gray fabric between his shoulder blades. Inhale the smell of his cologne like Nora’s done it a million times before.

This is new, Nora reminds herself. It’s so new.

Except when Jake glances over his shoulder and looks for her, green eyes darting down to run over her bare legs, and smiles, wide and affectionate like he didn’t just spend almost two hours across from her, like he could spend all day looking at her and never get sick of it; nothing about it feels new.

It feels like Nora’s already waist deep, right in the middle of something vast and all-consuming, something bottomless.

And when Jake extends a hand behind him, reaching for her, eyes as green as dew-covered grass, Nora steps into the daylight and links her fingers with his, filling in the gaps, somehow it’s the most natural thing in the whole world.

Two more weeks pass, and Nora’s with Jake more than she’s not.

He sleeps over so often that Nora clears a spot on the bathroom counter for him to leave a spare toothbrush, and likewise, Jake starts to keep her favorite brands of cold brew and creamer in his fridge.

Coffee in bed becomes something of a weekend routine.

Once, in his apartment, Jake brings her coffee in a Lone Star State mug, which looks like one of those souvenir mugs you might find in an airport. It’s covered in a patchwork of orange and light blue doodles: a cowboy hat, a horse, a Sheriff’s star.

“Beth bought it for me when I left for my first deployment,” Jake explains when Nora asks him about the mug, running her fingers over the delicate outlines. “So I’d have something to remind me of home.”

They go on a second date. A third. A fourth.

He finds a dine-in movie theater in La Jolla that’s doing a 90’s Rom Com series all summer and takes her to a 35mm showing of Clueless, listening attentively as Nora explains the difference between digital and film projection in excruciating detail on the drive there, a smile on his face.

On the mornings that Jake doesn’t stay the night, Nora orders an extra coffee – with cream and sugar – from her favorite coffee shops and meets him on the base a half hour earlier than the rest of the Daggers. She kisses him in the quiet of the Ready Room until 8:00 AM rolls around.

It’s all meaningful looks and stolen kisses; late night drives with the windows down, the wind in her hair, his hand on her thigh; rolls of film, not yet developed. It’s something for them, something good.

They keep it under the radar in front of the Daggers.

She’s not worried about them finding out, but Captain Mitchell is an extension of the Daggers, and Nora would really like to keep Aunt Charlie’s ex-boyfriend in the dark about her sex life for as long as possible. Forever, even.

Also, she still has a month left in her contract, and while she’s pretty sure the Naval magazine wouldn’t fire her for sleeping with one of the film subjects in a documentary like this one, she’s not so sure that she wants to put it to the test.

So, for now, under the radar it is.

After the Fourth of July, Javy officially gets his orders to report to Maverick's squadron. He goes back to Lemoore to wrap up some loose ends with his old C.O., and Jake meets him there the next weekend to drive a U-Haul back down.

And Nora emails the magazine and lets them know that the documentary will have one more Dagger.

Nora has more than enough time to weave him into the narrative of the film, and anyway, Javy is an official member of the squadron now. He is as much part of the story of the squadron as the other Daggers.

Plus, Nora hasn’t forgotten how excited Javy was about the film. It’ll be seamless, her version of rolling out the red carpet for him.

On his second day, Nora pulls him aside between drills and sits him down in front of the camera.

It’s a good interview, which doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. He’s a lot like Jake in that way, effortlessly funny and charismatic with a glowing movie star smile. Her cheeks hurt from smiling by the end of the interview, completely and thoroughly charmed.

After, Nora walks back to the Ready Room with him, and Javy asks, “How was that?”

“Super good,” she tells him. He holds the door open for her, like a gentleman, and with a smile, Nora crosses the threshold ahead of him, looking at him over her shoulder. “No, but really, it was great. You’re a natural.”

On the couch, Jake grumbles, “I thought I was a natural,” and Nora swats at him on her way past.

Everyone gathers at the Jake’s apartment later that night to eat some pizza and watch a movie.

Nora is curled up on the opposite end of the couch as Jake with an unsuspecting Bob between them. At one point, Jake looks around the room and stretches his arm casually over the back of the couch, and Nora feels him fiddling with the end of her braid.

She hides her smile in her next sip of white wine.

She is peacefully watching the movie, drinking the wine and sharing a bowl of extra-butter popcorn with Bob when Natasha comes back from the bathroom and plops down on the carpet again with a smirk on her face.

“Hangman.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice of you to host and all, but next time, if you’re going to leave your bedroom door open, can you tell your girlfriend not to leave her underwear on the floor?”

Nora chokes.

A popcorn kernel shoots into her airway, and Nora coughs into her wine.

Jake subtly drops his arm behind the couch, letting go of her hair.

Looking down at Natasha, Jake raises his brows, like oh, who, me?, and smiles a familiar cat-like smile, unbothered and calm. “Sure, Phoenix. I’ll pass along the message.”

It’s immediately obvious that Natasha expected him to say anything but that.

She gapes at him, and meanwhile, Nora wishes it was possible to elbow Jake through Bob.

She curls further into the armrest and swallows a mouthful of wine that’s almost too much, wine dribbling out of the side of her mouth and onto her shirt.

What happened to under the radar?

And when did Nora leave his apartment without her underwear?

Is she wearing underwear now?

She pats her hip under the guise of smoothing out a wrinkle in her sweat shorts. All clear.

Natasha spends the last 30 minutes of Ocean’s Eleven grilling him – and when Jake smiles that infuriating plastic smile and doesn’t reveal anything, pivoting to Javy – about whether Jake does, in fact, have a girlfriend while Nora pretends to be engrossed in the movie and not eavesdropping.

“Wow, so Danny gets the money and the girl in the end. Good for him,” Nora says.

Bob gives her an odd look. “Haven’t you seen this movie before?”

She reaches for her wine again as a diversion, only to find the glass empty. Goddammit.

When Natasha is still in interrogation mode during the credits, Nora gathers the plates from the living room and escapes to the kitchen, hoping to hide in there until Natasha has even given up or gotten bored.

And knowing her, the latter is far more likely than the former.

Her peace ends about 30 seconds later when Bradley follows her.

He leans against the counter and unrolls the bag of cheese balls that Nora just clipped shut. Tosses one into his mouth. He grins at her knowingly, and Nora narrows her eyes at him in warning.

Don’t say a damn word.

Still, Bradley observes, “You followed my advice, Rogers.”

He’s not loud, but Bradley’s not exactly quiet by nature.

She sends a nervous glance into the other room and hisses, “We’re not doing this right now.”

She dumps the crumbs and uneaten pizza crusts into the garbage and stacks the dishes next to the sink. Turns on the sink to give them a little more privacy because if Nora knows him, Bradley has never left well enough alone in his life.

“Fine.” He knocks back a handful of cheese balls like a shot of vodka and dusts his hands off in a shower of orange crumbs. Nora looks between him and the roll of paper towels at his elbow with a scrunched brow. He doesn’t seem to notice and barrels on, “But listen, as a friend, can I ask you for something?”

“What?” Nora deadpans.

“Can I have like a 10 minute warning before you tell Hangman we slept together? I’d like to protect the goods.”

He gestures to his face, but Nora has a feeling Bradley also wants to protect something else.

She stifles a laugh. “He’s not gonna punch you for something that happened five years ago.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Except I do know that because I already told him.” She points to the counter behind him. “Can you hand me that bowl?”

He pauses mid-crunch and doesn’t move. “You told him?”

She sighs and reaches around him for the chip bowl herself. “Yes, Bradshaw, I told him.”

“And Hangman didn’t punch me?”

“Guess not.”

“I feel like I should be offended.”

She stares at him, incredulous. “Did you want him to punch you?”

“That’s not the point, Nora,” Bradley says, exasperated, like Nora is the one who’s being ridiculous here. “I can’t believe you told him without telling me. How’d he take it?”

“He didn’t care,” Nora says. She squirts dish soap onto a sponge and scrubs the potato chip grease from the bowl. “He actually thought it was funny.”

She suspected that Javy might’ve said something to his best friend about their conversation at the roller rink, and Nora didn’t want any lingering suspicions to turn into something bigger than the truth, something that might affect Jake or Bradley in their already high-risk jobs.

So Nora told him.

He seemed surprised at first.

And then, Jake laughed.

He laughed so hard that Nora hit him with a pillow to get him to stop.

“You and Bradshaw?” Jake chuckled. “You’re so out of his league, sweetheart. Jesus.”

“We were both drunk, okay?” Nora exclaimed. She felt a certain amount of protectiveness over her 24-year-old self and her weakness for men with big arms and sad eyes. Really, who could blame her? “He was older and hot and sad and – Would you stop laughing at me?”

“Funny,” Bradley repeats flatly.

Her lips twitch. “He asked if I’d always been passionate about volunteering with the elderly.”

A cheese ball rolls down his chest and under the fridge, and Nora bites the inside of her cheek.

Bradley purses his lips. “Now I feel like I should punch him.”

Eventually, Natasha decides that Jake must be messing with her – “Hangman couldn’t possibly be dating someone. He can never shut up. We’d all know about her.” – and Nora manages to make it out of the night unscathed with the rest of the Daggers none-the-wiser.

(Except Javy, who gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder on his way out.)

A week later, Nora is working late in the Ready Room.

She is leaning on her elbow with god-awful computer posture – one knee pulled up on the chair, a mist of sweat on her brow from the heat – and Jake pops in to the room to let her know that the Daggers are headed to the Hard Deck for an after-work drink.

“You gonna be much longer?” Jake asks. “Want me to wait for you?”

He sets his chin on her shoulder, watching her fingers move across the keyboard, kissing a spot underneath her ear that usually makes her brain go back, usually makes her sigh and melt into him, but Nora stays strong.

It’s just this one last thing.

She blows out a grounding several-seconds-long breath to keep herself focused.

“I’m almost done,” Nora replies evenly, impressively evenly, actually, “so don’t distract me.”

His lips pull into a grin against the side of her neck.

For his part, Jake doesn’t say anything else. He gives her space, leaning against the window, and watches her in silence.

She saves one last file, and once the external hard drive is properly ejected, Nora slams the laptop shut. She spins around to look at him, her elbows on the back of the chair, and Jake has his arms folded across his chest, looking effortless and handsome and effortlessly handsome in his black shirt.

Her lip catches between her teeth.

“Hi,” Nora breathes.

Expression soft, Jake says back, “Hi, sweetheart.”

“How was your day? Good?”

He nods. “You?”

She does the same, a dip of her chin.

Evening sun pierces through the open blinds, drenching the room in a copper hue and making it at least five degrees warmer, if not more, and Nora looks him over in the glow. Drinks him in like an Old Fashioned. Her favorite drink.

They’ve been talking a lot about those lately. Favorites.

Favorite movie. Favorite song. Favorite time of day.

When Harry Met Sally. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac. That moment right before sunset when the whole sky and ocean turns pink.

She’s starting to realize Jake might be one of her favorites too.

She motions him closer, crooking her finger, and Jake bends indulgently, eyes bright.

She reaches for him. Coasts her palm along the slope of his chin, the cut-glass curve of his cheek, the prickle of stubble on his strong jawline.

She kisses him on the cheek and rests her lips there. Mumbles against his skin, “You could use a shave, cowboy.”

She feels him smile, feels the muscles in his face stretching and working.

“You don’t like the stubble, sweetheart?”

Nora actually does like the stubble. He looks a little more rugged, a little more like a cowboy. She can imagine him on a ranch in Texas, a sunburn on his broad shoulders, riding horses in his real-leather cowboy boots and his real-denim jeans, tipping his Stetson at her with a wink and a broad grin on his ride. She might like it a little too much.

“Well,” Nora drawls, “I didn’t say that.”

As Nora pulls back with a grin of her own, Jake catches her chin between his index and thumb and kisses her.

It’s such a good kiss that for a moment, Nora lets herself forget everything else.

She lets herself forget their surroundings; let herself forget the afternoon she spent making a list of gaps in the footage because she has less than fourteen days to fill them in, less than fourteen days left here.

She lets herself forget the rising number of unanswered emails in her inbox and her one-way plane ticket back to New York at the end of the month.

She lets herself forget anything that isn’t Jake’s hands on her hips, urging her to her feet and pushing her back against the table, hands sneaking under the hem of her shirt, and Nora’s hands in his hair, tousled from the wind and a little damp from his post-flight shower, smelling like soap and jet fuel.

She loses herself in him, in this.

A door creaks open, and she doesn’t even notice.

“Are you still here, Nora? Phoenix wanted me to ask if…”

All of the air rushes out of Bob mid-sentence.

He makes a noise like a punctured balloon – a kind of stunned Oh! sound – and quickly shuts the door again.

Nora breaks away from the kiss, but Bob’s long gone now, picture frames rattling in his wake.

“Oh… Oh my god.” Nora puts her hands over her face and lets out a panicked laugh into her palms. “What are the odds I could ask him not to tell anyone?”

“Slim to none,” Jake replies helpfully. “He’s probably already told Phoenix by now.”

“No way. It’s been like 30 seconds. How….” She grabs her phone, and not four seconds later, an incoming call from Natasha pops up on the screen. She presses decline with a startled sound and drops her phone back on the desk, like it’s a snake that bit her.

What the hell? Are Bob and Natasha telepathically linked?

Jake laughs. He looks far too smug for Nora’s liking.

She squints up at him. “And what exactly are you smiling about? I could get fired.”

She’s not really going to get fired, but she is feeling dramatic enough to say it anyway.

“You’re not gonna get fired,” Jake fires back without missing a beat. He hooks a finger in her belt loop and pulls her closer. “And I’m smiling because as much as I’ve liked having you all to myself these past few weeks…” A deliberate kiss against the column of her throat as Jake slides his palm up the same path. A breathy sigh. “... I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be happy to not have to sneak around anymore. Now, I’ll be able to kiss you anytime I want.”

“Is that a Sweet Home Alabama refer– oh?”

He cuts her off with another kiss, leg sliding between hers and up, his hand around the front of her throat.

It’s a long while before Nora packs up.

She’s only been at the Hard Deck for a few minutes when Bob comes over, looking sheepish, and apologizes with an Old Fashioned in hand.

“I’m sorry, Nora, I should’ve knocked,” Bob says, his shoulders rounded, contrite. “And I’m sorry I immediately told Phoenix.” A pause, and Bob’s cheeks redden a little. “And Fanboy and Payback and also, Rooster and Coyote, but both of them already knew.”

Nora laughs. “Jesus, Bob, I didn’t realize you were such a gossip.”

His blush deepens. “I’m sorry. I really thought everyone knew but me, but I guess Rooster and Coyote were the only ones.”

“It’s okay. We weren’t being very discreet,” Nora admits. She accepts the Old Fashioned with a forgiving squeeze of his arm. “Is Natasha mad? Like on a scale of 1 to Witness Protection?”

He pulls a face. “I think, more than anything, Phoenix is more mad she wasn’t the first one to figure it out. She’s also pissed Rooster knew and didn’t tell her.”

“I’ll let him take the heat for this one,” Nora says conspiratorially.

Bob smiles. “Probably a smart move.”

She kills the next half-hour and change at the pool table with Jake.

He’s apparently taken not sneaking around anymore to mean have his hands on her at all times. He stands too close and slips a hand into the back pocket of her jeans while Nora is trying to take her turn. Cheater.

Natasha comes over in the middle of a game, nursing a Blue Moon.

She stands at Nora’s side and looks down at the game. “I guess I should’ve known,” she says in the matter-of-fact tone of someone who has processed their surprise. “He’s always staring at you lately. You were either hooking up or in desperate need of a restraining order.”

“Jury’s still out on the restraining order,” Nora replies dryly and smiles when an eavesdropping Jake looks up sharply. He meets her gaze and shakes his head, a smirk hanging from the corner of his mouth.

A wrinkle between her brows, Natasha asks, “Is it pretty casual? Or are you guys like, dating now?”

“No,” Nora answers while at the exact same time, Jake calls, “Yes.”

A swooping feeling fills her stomach.

They haven’t used that word yet. Dating.

Dating has weight. Implications that Nora isn’t prepared to deal with right now.

Like, if they’re dating, what happens when she leaves?

And yet, foolishly, Nora really likes the sound of it.

She wrinkles her nose but doesn’t correct him, and Jake grins, like he’s won something.

Natasha observes this interaction with vague fascination.

“I’ll let you two figure that one out.” Natasha hoists herself onto a barstool, legs dangling, and nods to Jake. “I’ve got the next game with you, Nora. Hangman’s been hogging you over here.”

She and Natasha play a couple of games – first alone and then, against an overconfident pair of ensigns fresh from the Naval academy who wander over to hit on them. They win 40 bucks each off of them and send them packing.

And when Jake wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind, grinning lips pressed against her cheek, Nora spins around and kisses him on the mouth and doesn’t give a damn who sees.

On the last Friday of the month, Nora sends off the last few files and pieces of footage and organizes a wrap party for the documentary.

She loves this part of the filmmaking process – after weeks, months of work, a moment of pause and celebration and achievement. It’s such a singular and special experience to create something from start to finish, and Nora wants the Naval aviators have the chance to share in that moment with her. See what the last eight weeks have been for.

Captain Mitchell ends the day a few hours early and gathers the Naval aviators in the room where Nora first introduced herself to them all of those weeks ago.

A sharp sense of deja vu washes over her as Nora finds herself at the front of the room once again, eight weeks older. She’s not looking out on a group of half-acquaintances, practical strangers, watching her with caution and curiosity. These are her friends. She sees nothing but excitement and anticipation in their eyes.

It’s always a bittersweet feeling, and Nora pushes down the overwhelm that rises in her chest, sticking to the sides of her throat. She swallows hard.

Bradley cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

She exhales a laugh, relaxing. “I do have a little speech. More of an introduction, actually.” She links her fingers and holds them in front of her stomach to give herself something to do with her hands. “Making something like this is never easy. It’s almost always disruptive, but I felt so welcome here. You made it feel easy.”

She continues, “I’m only contracted as the filmmaker so I’m not doing the final edit of the film, but I didn’t want to send it off into post-production without showing you something that represents your hard work and dedication. You’ve volunteered a lot of your time to this project. It’s as much your achievement as mine.” She plugs in her laptop and pulls up the video and smiles. “I have a few minutes of footage for you.”

A chorus of whoops and cheers, and Nora presses the play button.

Text appears on the black screen as Nora quietly sits down.

On March 3, 1969, the UNITED STATES NAVY established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the LOST ART OF AERIAL COMBAT and to ensure that the handful of men (and now women) who graduated were the BEST FIGHTER PILOTS IN THE WORLD. They succeeded.

The Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. You might know it better as TOP GUN.

A video of Captain Mitchell fades in, and Bradley claps loudly and shouts, “Let’s go, Mav!”

Natasha shushes him – and maybe punches him in the shoulder because Bradley lets out a pained groan.

“These men and women,” Captain Mitchell says on the screen. “This squadron. There’s never been a squadron like this one in the history of the Naval aviation.” He fades to voice-over over a rapid-fire reel of in-air footage: Jets cut through the blue skies at impossible speeds, perform incredible high-speed maneuvers, again and again and again. A black screen as Captain Mitchell declares, “These are the best fighter pilots on the planet.”

A small smile dances on Nora’s lips, anticipating.

What follows is a straight-forward but effective pattern.

Each Dagger appears on the screen and says their call sign, and Nora clipped something from their interview – a good anecdote, a particularly memorable quote – with footage of them in the air or b-roll of them on the base.

On the screen, Jake – Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, reads the lower-third – flashes a 1000-watt smile to the side of the camera, and Nora smiles despite herself. He was looking at her. She remembers it so vividly, sitting there, pretending not to be charmed by him, pretending not to want him.

Next to her, Jake leans over and whispers, “You remember when you told me you didn’t like me after this?”

“Shut up,” Nora whispers back, smiling.

He grows closer, lips brushing her ear. “Now, why would I? We both know how much you love to shut me up, sweetheart.”

A rose pink blush spreads across her cheeks, and Jake chuckles.

Behind him, Natasha kicks his chair. “Zip it, Hangman. Stop flirting during my big moment.”

And Natasha’s JUST loud enough that Captain Mitchell hears.

He looks over with a frown. His gaze snags on where Hangman’s arm hangs ever-so-casually over the side of his chair, his pinky finger brushing against the side of Nora’s hand.

Pete Mitchell huffs out an amused exhale and shakes his head and thinks about all of the improbably and impossible ways that history seems to repeat itself. He looks over his shoulder and spots a familiar figure, slipping into the back of the room unnoticed. He nods to them and directs his attention back to the screen.

A short round of applause breaks out at the end of the video, and Nora beams.

She does a little half-bow at Natasha’s insistence.

“Thank you. You can stop now,” Nora laughs. She collects her laptop from the podium and holds it against her chest. “A military base isn’t the best place for a real wrap party, but Penny’s been kind enough to host us at her house tonight so I’ll see you all there, but while I’m here and still on the clock, any last questions?”

A beat of silence.

A familiar voice rings out from the back of the room.

“Can I ask one?”

Shock burns down the length of her spine, a sparked fuse of a stick of dynamite, and Nora straightens.

“What the fuck?” spills out of her mouth. She gapes. “Charlie?”

Standing in front of the red-and-blue Fighter Weapons School emblem, a leather bomber around her shoulders, a pair of aviator sunglasses in her graying curls, Charlie looks like one of her old photo albums come to life. A wide smile stretches across her face, making her look three decades younger.

What? How? And again, what?

“Last I checked,” Charlie says with a smooth smile. She nods to Captain Mitchell. “Maverick.”

“Charlie.” He doesn’t sound surprised. “Good to see you again.”

Nora is mostly definitely surprised. Stunned. “But… Charlie, what’re you doing here?”

Charlie leans against the back wall, arms crossed, effortlessly cool.

“Pete here was kind enough to let me know about the wrap party, and I thought, what the hell? Maybe I should take one of those vacation days the Pentagon is always on me about.” Her expression softens as Charlie takes her in. “It’s good to see you, sweetie.”

Charlie’s here. She’s here.

Nora blinks rapidly.

And promptly bursts into tears.

Half an hour later, Nora is sitting at a high top in a secluded corner of the hotel bar where Charlie is staying.

She orders an Old Fashioned from the waiter, and Charlie orders a glass of Pinot Noir and swirls the maroon wine around in her glass like a seasoned professional. Nora’s never really understood the point of doing that – something about letting the wine breathe – but it does make Charlie look pretty sophisticated.

Then again, with her red lips and her Grace Kelly curls, Charlie always looks pretty sophisticated.

She sips her wine, lipstick un-smudged, and studies Nora over the glass.

Nora prepares herself for the inevitable barrage of questions.

Something along the lines of, So what happened? Did you lose your phone? or maybe, Why did you start crying in the middle of the Naval base like a certified head case? Both of which are fair enough questions.

Bob was the first one to recover from his alarm and procured a packet of Kleenex from one of the pockets of his flight suit. He offered her one with a sympathetic smile, and Nora blew her nose with a grateful nod.

To his credit, Captain Mitchell snapped into action and quickly ushered the rest of the Daggers out of the room.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” Nora heard Captain Mitchell say as Charlie wrapped her in a hug. His voice grew a little sterner, a little harder. “You too, Hangman. Let’s go.”

She opened her wet eyes, and Captain Mitchell had his hand on Jake’s shoulder, but Jake was looking at her, concern plain on his face, his lips downturned.

She gave him a watery smile, and Jake’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

He was still the last one out of the room.

Now, Charlie looks her over and comments brightly, “You’ve got some color in your cheeks. Are you spending a lot of time on the beach?”

She blinks. That’s… not a question Nora was expecting.

“They put me up in an apartment right on the beach, and the Daggers like to go down to North Beach and play volleyball and football, so I hang out with them sometimes.”

“You play football?” Charlie asks, skeptical and amused.

“I read.”

“Ah. Of course. Anything good?”

What is happening right now? “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

“Good.”

Charlie drinks her wine and doesn’t ask anything else.

Nora stares at her. “Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“No.”

She almost laughs. “No?”

“No,” Charlie repeats simply. She flags down the waiter and points to the appetizers on the Happy Hour menu. “Excuse me. Could we get an order of the whipped ricotta and then, the truffle parmesan fries? You can charge it to my room. Thanks, hon.”

Nora stares at her aunt like she’s been body snatched, and Charlie sighs.

“Listen,” Charlie starts. “You haven’t called me in weeks so clearly, whatever you’ve got going on is something you’re not ready to share with me right away, and if I know you at all – and I like to think I do – I know I’ll get absolutely nowhere if I push you.” She picks up her glass and swirls it again. “So, we’ll get a couple of drinks and split some appetizers, and when you’re ready, you can tell me what’s going on.”

They do exactly that.

Nora orders a second drink and spreads honey-drizzled ricotta across pieces of baguette and fills Charlie in on the last eight weeks, every minuscule and probably uninteresting detail about the documentary and the squadron. She does, however, gloss over a few crucial details about Jake, as is her right as guaranteed by the Fifth amendment. She’s also not quite sure how to explain it herself.

And eventually, when her drink is down to ice and the bread down to crumbs, Nora tells her aunt what’s going on.

And Charlie listens.

She listens to everything.

Every doubt and fear. Every uncertainty that’s been weighing Nora down for the past year and a half, making her feel like she’s caught in a bear trap, like she can’t move, like she can’t breathe.

Admitting all of these big and all-consuming feelings to Charlie is scary and freeing in equal measures, but in the end, where there was once a pit in her stomach, she feels relief. She feels one breath closer to the surface.

When Nora is done, her mouth is dried out. She chugs half a glass of water.

And almost spits it all back out when Charlie’s first words are: “So why don’t you quit?”

“What?” Nora asks, more of a stunned syllable than a question.

“If you don’t want to do it anymore,” Charlie says plainly, “don’t.”

Her brows are high on her forehead as Nora asks, bewildered, “So what? Give up?”

“I didn’t say give up,” Charlie sighs, and it brings Nora back to her teen years when Charlie would accuse her of being difficult on purpose. “I said quit.”

“They feel like the same thing.”

“They’re not.”

She bites her lip and looks over Charlie’s shoulder and out of the window.

“Isn’t it like…” Nora blows out a breath. “If I quit now, isn’t it like I’m flushing six years of my life down the drain?”

Charlie shrugs. “You still did a lot in those six years. Changing your mind doesn’t take away from any of those accomplishments, but now, maybe it’s time for you to do something else, something you like more. Start over.”

Nora sits back. “You say it like it’s simple. Easy.”

“It might not be easy. It most likely won’t be, but it is that simple, yes.”

Words catch in her throat, and when Nora says it out loud, her voice sounds small. “I’m scared.”

Her aunt’s face softens. She reaches across the table and cups Nora’s hand.

“You’re allowed to be scared. Everyone’s scared.”

She blows out a shaky breath to keep herself from crying again, but a slight crack in her voice gives her away. Damn. “Yeah? When’s the last time you were scared you couldn’t do something?”

God. She regrets the words almost immediately.

She sounds childish, petulant, but right now, Nora feels like the 16-year-old who snuck Charlie’s red lipstick from her make-up pouch and got busted because she accidentally put it back uncapped and ruined the inside of the bag. Or like the 21-year-old who ordered an Old Fashioned for her first legal drink because Charlie used to drink them at home and hated it so much that Nora wouldn’t drink another for four more years.

Like all Nora ever wants to be is someone that Charlie can be proud of.

All of the sudden, Charlie looks very far away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared than when your mom died. She made being a parent look so easy, and I got to be the cool Aunt Charlie on the sidelines, and then, she was gone, and I was so scared I’d fuck up and undo everything.”

Nora’s eyes burn. “Charlie, I never… You never said anything.”

“Of course not,” Charlie dismisses with a shake of her head, curls bouncing. “You were still a kid. You were grieving. You needed stability, and I knew I had to do my best because sometimes, you’re scared and you do it anyway.”

“Fail with your whole heart,” Nora quotes softly, and Charlie squeezes her hand.

“See I could’ve never come up with something like that, but god, your mom…” Charlie wipes at her eyes with a cloth napkin and smiles. “She was born to be writer. When I got my first interview with the Pentagon, I had less than 24-hours notice. I was living in New York at the time, and I’d need to hop on a train and hope I could find a hotel for the night when I got down there."

"Honestly, I thought about not going, but your mom sat me down and said, ‘Charlotte,’” and Charlie straightens her spine and does her best impression of her sister, “‘You get your bony ass to Grand Central, and I’ll call every damn hotel in DC and find you a room. You got the interview, and now, all you have to do is follow through and take the leap.”

“And you did,” Nora finishes. “You did the interview, got the job, and the rest is history.”

“I did. I followed her advice. I decided that if I was going to fail, I should do it bravely.” Charlie squeezes her hand once more and lets it go. “It’s your turn now, sweetie.”

Nora goes to the bathroom to clean up her mascara and when she comes back, Charlie is signing the check.

She checks her watch. “It’s almost five o’clock. Do you want to head over to Penny’s?”

“Give me one second.” Nora reaches for her purse and pulls out her phone. “I have to call someone back.”

Penny Benjamin lives in a beautiful house in La Jolla that looks like something out of Architectural Digest magazine.

A classic California bungalow with off-white siding and wide blue-trim windows and a garden wrapping around the side, summer green dotted with pinks and yellows and reds; on an elegant cliffside, overlooking the Pacific.

It’s a good half hour from San Diego so when Nora and Charlie arrive, the street is lined with cars.

Last week, Nora asked Admiral Simpson for a full list of everyone who’d been on the base during the making of the documentary and forwarded the names to Penny for the wrap party. When Admiral Simpson asked her why she needed them and she explained – she wanted anyone who’d so much as stood on the tarmac while she’d been filming to be included in the celebration – she could’ve sworn he looked a little impressed.

Still, Nora is surprised to see him in the garden, chatting with Admiral Bates with a beer in his hand, a pretty woman next to him who must be his wife.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Warlock and Cyclone,” Charlie says, patting Nora’s shoulder, and Nora nods and watches her go.

She doesn’t see Penny anywhere so Nora goes into the house and finds her in the kitchen. She gives her a quick hug and hands over a bottle of Prosecco – which Charlie had insisted on stopping for on the drive because Charlie couldn’t possibly show up to her ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s house without an expensive bottle of something.

“What am I?” Charlie asked. “Some kind of asshole?

“Oh, Nora,” Penny gasps, hand fluttering over her heart. “This is your party. You didn’t need to bring me something.”

“Oh please. Charlie’s outside. It’s from both of us,” Nora waves her off as Penny admires the bottle. It was the prettiest one in the store. “Thank you so much for doing this by the way. Your house is so beautiful.”

Now, Penny’s the one to wave her off. “No, no, I was happy to do it. We’ll all miss having you around, even Pete. He probably won’t say it himself, but I’ll say it for him.” Nora smiles widely, and Penny shoos her out of the kitchen. “I’ll open this up and bring it out, but you get your butt outside and enjoy the party.”

Obliging, Nora makes her way back outside.

A makeshift bar is in the middle of the garden, and Nora finds her aunt pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Come on,” Nora nudges. “You can meet some of my friends.”

They make the rounds around the garden. She introduces Charlie to Natasha, who looks as starstruck as Nora has ever seen her.

Shaking her hand firmly, Natasha asks, excited, “You were Maverick’s instruction at Top Gun, right?”

“One of them,” Charlie answers coolly.

“You knew Viper then? And Iceman?”

“I did.”

“So cool,” Natasha breathes, and Bob nudges her with a small, side smile.

“Charlie,” Bradley calls out and rushes over to give her a big hug, lifting her kitten heels off the ground. It’s been a few years since Bradley last saw Charlie so Nora’s not surprised that Bradley and Charlie have a lot of catching up to do. She’s happy to listen and chime in every so often.

Awhile later, Bradley leaves to grab another plate of food, and gaze sweeping across the garden, Charlie turns to Nora and asks, unexpectedly, “Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?”

Nora manages not to blush. She raises her brows. “I would if I had one.”

“Really?” Charlie asks, like, Is that the story you’re going with? “Then, who’s that handsome man over there making moon eyes at you?”

Shit.

Nora looks over, and sure enough, even in the middle of a conversation with Javy, Mickey, and Reuben, Jake doesn’t seem to be paying one damn bit of attention to anything coming out of their mouths. His eyes are on her. Always on her.

She bites back a smile. And beckons him over.

He crosses the garden in a few long strides and after Nora introduces him (“This is my aunt, Charlie Blackwood.”), Jake greets her with a nod and an extended hand. “Jake Seresin, ma’am.”

“Jake,” Charlie repeats with recognition. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Finally? Nora frowns slightly. She’s never mentioned him before this afternoon.

His lips part in a wide, charming smile. “Likewise, ma’am.”

Charlie looks amused. “You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am.”

“He’s from Texas,” Nora offers like an explanation, a little too quickly, and Charlie’s arched brow makes her cheeks grow warm. She avoids her eyes, squinting at the horizon and pretending to be fascinated by the gulls over the beach.

Charlie’s not fooled. She smirks and asks, “Texas, huh? What part?”

“Austin,” Jake replies. It’s a visible effort not to add ma’am at the end.

“You don’t say. Did Nora ever tell you that my husband John went to UT Austin?”

A spark lights up his eyes, and Jake seems to be doing fine on his own so Nora leaves him alone to grab another drink in the midst of an in-depth discussion of the Texas Longhorns. She spots Ethan and Chris on her way back and gets pulled into a conversation with them, saying goodbye and wishing them luck in their next projects in case Nora misses them later.

When Nora returns, Jake and Charlie are still talking. She must like him.

Jake smiles at Nora and in his brown sugar voice, says, “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the evening with your niece, ma’am. She’s pretty spectacular.”

She could kick him. Or kiss him. Or both.

“She is,” Charlie agrees. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”

She could kick both of them.

When Jake is out of earshot, Charlie comments, “He’s very charming.”

Nora almost laughs. “I know.”

“He likes you.”

She does laugh now. “Believe me, I know.”

“He’s the one who called me,” Charlie adds casually, and Nora whirls on her.

“What? You said Captain Mitchell called you.”

Charlie shakes her head, smiling, a knowing smile. “Pete was the one who forwarded me the invite, but Jake called me.” A chuckle. “He called me ma’am on the phone too.”

She smiles despite herself because of course.

“What’d Jake say? What made you come?” Nora asks.

“He said that you needed me and you probably wouldn’t call me and tell me that outright, but you were having a hard time.” Charlie looks at her sidelong, lips curled at the ends, a dimple in her cheek. “He knows you pretty well, your not-boyfriend.”

Nora looks for him again.

She finds him on the other side of the garden, laughing at something Bradley is saying, hair a golden halo in the summer evening sun. He called Charlie. She never asked, never needed to ask. He just… knew.

And Nora falls a little bit in love with him right then and there; in the same way a little bit of rain falls on your window at the beginning of a mid-August storm.

A preview before an inevitable downpour.

Evening begins to blend into night, and Nora sits on the steps of the porch to watch the sunset.

It’s a good vantage point. She can see everyone and everything.

Bob brought a deck of cards and now, the Daggers are playing a game of Bullshit on a massive picnic blanket that Penny brought outside for them, and Penny’s daughter Amelia sits with them, giggling when Bradley loses and pretends to stomp off.

Nora watches as Charlie goes over to Captain Mitchell and gently puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about Ice. He was a good man.”

Captain Mitchell nods, his mouth a line, emotion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Thanks, Charlie.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Nora looks away.

He gave her privacy earlier. She’ll return the favor.

A step creaks behind her, and Nora dips her head back to see Jake.

“Hi cowboy,” Nora greets, and Jake grins down at her.

He drops onto the step next to her, arm stretched behind her.

“How’d it go with Charlie?” Jake asks.

“Good,” Nora says. She rests her chin on her palm, her elbow on her knee, and studies him closely. “She told me that you called her. How’d you even get her number?”

“Bradshaw,” Jake replies. He meets her gaze and holds it, green on blue, sparkling like the ocean. “Seemed like, maybe you needed her.”

Her chest aches, and Nora says softly, “Thank you.”

His wide palm spreads across her leg, fingertips dangling to brush against the inside of her thigh. “How long’s she staying?”

“A week. She changed her flight. She’s flying back to New York with me, instead of D.C.”

Silence falls like an anchor, plummeting to the ocean floor. A muscle works in his jaw, like Jake’s chewing on his next words. “What happens now?”

For her? For them?

She doesn’t have all the answers, but Nora at least has this.

“How do you feel about long distance?” Nora asks, watching him carefully.

A smile flickers on his face as Jake realizes what Nora is asking.

“California to New York? I can probably swing a few flights, cash in some miles.”

She sets her hand over his, fiddling with his fingers. “That’s sweet, but I was actually thinking more like, North Island to here.”

“Here?” He looks confused, adorably so, and Nora holds back a smile.

“Turns out that Charlie has some empty-nester friends here from her Top Gun days. They’re looking to rent out their guest house for the rest of the year. It’s not far from here actually, within walking distance of the beach.” She can feel her heart pounding like Nora’s running a marathon as Jake slowly start to understand. “I turned down the offer, Jake. I’m moving back to California.”

She called Jenna from the hotel bar. She was a little bit annoyed with Nora, understandably.

Her first words were, “Are you kidding me? You waited until now to tell me this?”

But after a few minutes of Nora’s apologetic I know, I’m sorry, I know, Jenna was ultimately supportive.

“Damn, Nora. This is a real loss for our industry, but I’m happy for you. If you never need a connection in Hollywood, call me. I know people who know people.”

And one day, Nora might take her up on that, but right now, Nora needs a break. A real one. And California feels like the right place for her to take one. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it here until she came back.

“You’re staying,” Jake repeats slowly, like Jake’s afraid to believe her.

She reassures him with a nod. “I still have a storage unit back in New York so I have to go back, and I have a few things left at Charlie’s, but Charlie’s coming to help me clean it out and move what I need. And…” Nora drifts off and for once, the uncertainty doesn’t seem so scary. It’s wide open and hopeful.

Jake wipes his hand down his face and sets his hand on his chest, right above his pounding heart, looking utterly relieved. “You’re… god, Hollywood, you’re gonna give a man a heart attack someday.”

“You love it,” Nora teases.

He lifts his chin with his knuckle, holding her gaze. “I really, really do.”

And when Jake kisses her, it feels like maybe he means something else.

Cheeks warm, Nora looks out at the horizon, and it’s that perfect time between day and night when the whole ocean is a watercolor of pale pink and purple. She kisses the carved dimple in his cheek and leans into his strong shoulder, and Jake tucks her under his chin, rubbing his thumb across her palm, over her heart line.

Breathing in the smell of the ocean and him, Nora closes her eyes and catches her breath.

end note: charlie, my beloved. i didn't mean for this to be so long, but i hope you enjoyed 🩵 likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all.

want to be tagged in the epilogue? fill out this form!

#about to be crying through the epilogue goodbye #fic: baby i'm high octane #laracrofted writes #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x nora rogers #hangman x oc #hangman fic #hangman smut #jake seresin smut

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broken-glowsticks · 1 year ago

Text

What Once was Mine

Chapter 1 - When he was hers

Genre: Childhood friends, Eventual Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Love corner/love triangle, love rivals, Series. Not all chapters will be proofread!!

Warnings: 18+, mdni, mentions of sex and alcohol consumption, additional warnings will be added to individual chapters as needed.

Main • Next

Everyone knew Hwang Hyunjin. Of course they did, he was arguably one of the most gorgeous guys in town, and growing up with such a pretty face caused people to almost instinctively gravitate towards him. Instead of shrinking back from unwanted attention, this caused Hyunjin to flourish in charisma. He became a magnet, dazzling anyone and everyone with his sweet, effortless smile and crescent eyes. He was friendly, knowledgeable about every party in town, and casually flirty without somehow gaining any kind of negative reputation.

Everybody knew Hwang Hyunjin. But nobody knew him like you did.

The plush of his lips, the curve of his neck, the softness of his hair, how his frame is slender yet strong, how his arms felt wrapped around you. Sure, you weren’t the only girl to feel these things in general, but you didn't know of a single girl to feel these things twice, let alone the number of times you have.

You knew Hyunjin for a long time. Both your dad and his had hit it off at work and decided together to leave their company and start up their very own business together being painters.

It was just them two at first and money was tight, so to save themselves from having to hire babysitters they would instead drag Hyunjin and yourself along to help out whenever a no-school day landed on a secular work day.

It was awkward at first, two pre-teens with no previous painting experience being thrust together to paint fences or low house trimmings. But as time went on, the two of you began to grow used to each other and bonded over your shared fate of forced labor while your classmates got to stay home.

Eventually, your friendship would grow beyond your moments of labor and spill over to weekends and evenings. Your families would often share meals together and whenever the summers of your older years rolled around the two of you would often spend your days at eachothers houses, watching movies, hanging out in the backyard, swimming in the local creek or painting on canvases instead of walls in his bedroom.

You grew comfortable in each other's homes, rummaging through the fridge whether it was your own or not, lounging casually on the furniture, often climbing into each other's bed when one or both of you were tired and in need of a nap. Summers were your favorite time of year because summers were when you got Hyunjin all to yourself. Until high school started.

Suddenly, Hyunjin wasn't all yours anymore. His weekends and even some evenings were often filled with dates and parties. You never shared a class with him in school, so it wasn't odd not seeing him through the day - save for the friendly “hi” in passing between classes - but he would often walk you part of the way home every day.

Now, he would only hang out in the hallways or at the bus station with his clique. And while you stayed on with the painting business, becoming an official part-timer to earn some money, the company had grown enough that Hyunjin wasn't needed anymore. The only times you ever saw Hyunjin now were the occasional dinners your family and his would share together, assuming he even showed up, or when he would come visit your room in the middle of the night.

He would tap gently at your window, but you would always wake up. Hyunjin grew a little reckless before his final year of high school, often telling his parents he was at a friend's house when he was out partying or hooking up with a girl instead. And every time he was done, he would come to your room to sleep in your bed. The first time he ever did that, it startled you.

○●☆♡☆●○

“I can't go back home. Come on Y/N let me stay here just this once? Please?” He begged, his eyes sparkling. How could you say no to that?

You figured you'd just toss him a pillow and a blanket, and he'd sleep on the floor, so you let him in. Your heart almost stopped when he clambered into your bed, kicking off his shoes and yanking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?” You hiss, closing your window to avoid staring at his abs, when did he get abs?

“Getting comfortable so I can sleep? What are you doing just standing there?” He asked, pulling back the comforter.

“I… I thought you were going to sleep on the floor or something.”

“Why would I do that when there's a perfectly good bed right here?” He replied, lounging back onto the mattress, giving you an incredulous look. “What are you waiting for? Get over here. I'm freezing.”

“Hyunjin I can't-!” You began, turning to face him when he cut you off.

“What's the big deal, Y/N?” He asked, “we used to nap together all the time when we were kids.”

“Yeah, but this - this is different.” You stammer out.

“How?” He asked, holding eye contact with you. You couldn't come up with an answer.

‘Because you're different,’ you wanted to say, but the words died before they could pass your lips. Instead, you silently made your way back to your bed, sliding in once Hyunjin made room for you on the mattresses. The moment you made yourself comfortable, he pulled the comforter tightly around the two of you, pulling you close against him. You shuttered the moment your bodies met, he really was cold and he physically relaxed as he wrapped himself around you.

You couldn't help but be aware of how small your bed was and how you two would be pressed against each other all night. The thought made your heart hammer in your chest.

“I can feel how tense you are.” He murmured against your hair.

You didn’t know what to say to that. After all, why wouldn't you be tense? The boy who was once your closest friend, who you hadn't really gotten to spend any quality time with since you couldn’t remember when, suddenly shows up at your window in the middle of the night, asking to sleep here in your bed, and you're supposed to just be fine with that?

“Why? It's just me, Y/N.” Something about how he said this irked you. It irked you enough to make you say something.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean Hyunjin? ‘It's just you’?” You snapped, making him pull back in surprise, the emotion clear on his face. “Hyunjin, I don't know who you are anymore. I never see you anymore. And now you want to show up out of the blue and just act like nothing’s changed between us? Like you haven't been ignoring me basically since we started high school?”

“What do you mean I've been ignoring you? When have I ever ignored you?” He asked defensively.

“Oh come on, Hyunjin,” you say exasperated, sitting up and looking down at him. “You never say hi to me at school anymore, you stopped walking me home, you never spend any time with me! You're always with your friends or your girlfriend!” Part of you was worried you were being too loud, that your parents would come in and get the wrong idea from the scene they would encounter. Miraculously, nobody came.

“Why?” You asked after a beat of silence, your throat getting tight with the tears that had begun to well up. “Why did you just abandon me? Is it… Is it cause I'm not popular enough? Your girlfriend doesn’t like me? Cause I'm not pretty?” Your voice choked out as you began to cry, your hands coming to your mouth to stifle your sobs.

Hyunjin laid there stunned. He couldn't believe himself. Did he really make you feel so abandoned? From his point of view, he wasn't going out of his way to ignore you or anything like that. To him, the two of you just didn't have any classes together. He never saw you in the halls, you never shared the same group of friends, and you two didn't work together anymore. Sure, he would hang out with his friends a lot, but he always made it a point to make it to the weekly dinners his and your families would have.

Well… maybe he's missed the last two… or three… okay, maybe four?

Oh god, he has been neglecting you. What an asshole.

Running his hands over his face before sitting up, Hyunjin only now realized exactly how badly he fucked up. Hesitantly reaching out, he first placed a hand on your shoulder to gage your reaction. You slightly jumped at the sudden contact but when he saw how you didn’t pull away he slowly wrapped his arms around your slightly trembling frame, once again pulling you close to hold you gently as you cry.

“I'm sorry…” he whispered, rubbing your shoulder gently. “I didn't realize I had pulled away so much. I didn't mean to, I just- I got so wrapped up in my own thing and just kind of took for granted that you'd always be there.”

Gingerly he moved his arms from around you and took your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “It wasn't because you're not popular, or because of some girlfriend- which i don't have, by the way. I just thought you were okay because you had your friends at school and your job and your family. I… I figured you were just as busy as I was, so I didn't need to reach out cause we would see each other whenever our parents all got together. But that wasn't fair of me to do to you.”

“I missed you.” You managed between sobs.

“I know that now, I'm sorry.” He said gently, placing his forehead against yours. “I'm so, so sorry Y/N. Please, forgive me and I'll never leave you alone again.”

You didn’t believe him. How could you? He already left you once, what's to stop him from doing it again? But a part of you hoped, a part of you wanted to believe him. Like you said, you missed him. So you agreed.

“If… if you do. I know where you live, Hwang Hyunjin.” You stutter out, trying your best to sound menacing while weakly glaring.

All this did was make Hyunjin laugh softly as he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of your skin against his. How could he have forgotten how your very presence comforted him, how all the years you've spent together, all the memories, would wrap around him like a blanket?

“Can I still sleep here even though I made you cry?” He joked once your breathing calmed, managing to get a chuckle out of you.

“Yes,” you said with a shaky breath, “yes, you can.”

“Good.” He grinned with that dazzling smile of his as the two of you resumed your snuggled position from earlier.

“And for the record,” he said as he began to run his fingers through your hair, “I think you're stunning. You're absolutely beautiful Y/N, okay? So don't ever say you're not pretty ever again.”

It was from that night onwards that Hyunjin would come to see you in the dead of night, either because he needed a place to stay after a party or a hookup, or just because he missed you.

He was still as busy as ever, being Mr. Popular and all, but he kept his promise and tried to carve out time for you whenever he could aside from visiting you in the night, even if that was just saying “hi” in the halls or after school. He would also make it to dinner every single week, without fail, something your parents all delighted in. It seems you weren't the only one who missed seeing Hyunjin around.

One other thing he started doing ever since that night was he started calling you by a little nickname, one that made your friends question when you suddenly started dating the Hwang Hyunjin.

“What? No, we're not dating. We used to be really close when we were younger and just reconnected, that's all.” You told them as nonchalantly as possible.

“Yeah, ok, sure Y/N, whatever you say.” One of them said, not fully believing you. “But uhm… did he always use to call you ‘Beautiful’?”

○●☆♡☆●○

“Shh, quite Beautiful, we don't want to get caught.” Hyunjin murmured as he continued the leisurely roll of his hips, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot despite his warning.

As much as you attempted to keep quiet, you could still hear the soft echo of your escaping moans bouncing through the mirrored walls of the dimly lit dance studio. To help keep you quiet, Hyunjin moved his kiss swollen lips from the slope of your neck to your mouth, slipping his tongue between your lips. You kissed back eagerly, grateful for the attempt at finding something other than the sensation of Hyunjin pulling out agonizingly slowly only to bottom out with the same infuriatingly unhurried pace, torturously fucking you into the wall, watching how long you could endure.

Your mind was starting to go fuzzy when Hyunjin pinned your hand to the wall by your head, a subtle hint that you knew meant he was close.

Entwining your fingers together, Hyunjin held your hand firmly, growling as he dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, lifting your leg that was wrapped around his waist in search of a better angle. He suddenly wanted, no, needed to hear you screaming his name as languid thrust grew erratic.

You were close to cumming yourself, so close, you just needed a bit more, he could feel it. Dropping your hand to wrap both of his around your thighs, he gathered his strength before lifting you off the floor entirely. You couldn't help but gasp, impressed with this show of strength. You sometimes forgot just how strong he was.

“Come on Beautiful, cum for me.” He said, his voice hoarse and his thrusts turning sudden, quick and aggressive, his dick mercilessly slamming into you.

Wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders you felt your walls tighten and flutter around him as you hit your limit, cumming hard around his cock. But he didn't stop, instead speeding up. You were starting to become over-stimulated, gasps and moans carelessly spilling out of you as Hyunjin chased his own orgasm.

“Say my name Beautiful. I'm so close to cumming, I just need to hear you.” He rasped out and you couldn't help but readily comply with his request, forcing yourself to form the sounds it took to call out for him instead of making the incoherent noises you were making before.

Your worn and fucked out voice was all it took for him to finally cum, the sensation shaking his body as he rode out his orgasm inside you.

Unable to hold you up anymore he set you down as gently as he could, sliding out of you to quickly remove his condom and adjust his clothes. This gave you a moment to do the same, dressing yourself with shaky hands as Hyunjin did away with the evidence of what just happened.

“You okay Beautiful?” Hyunjins voice pulled you from your daze and he couldn't help but chuckle at the absolutely adorable expression on your face. It almost made him want another go.

“Yeah, I'm good.” You said, managing a smile despite how tired you felt. Feeling the wall for the light switch you squinted once the bright, fluorescent lights came alive, your eyes not wanting to adjust as Hyunjin made his way back to your side to pull you into his arms.

“Thank you for coming, I needed the stress relief.” He said as he kissed your hair, pulling you over to a table that sat in an alcove towards the corner of the dance studio, his desk.

“I needed it too,” you admitted, letting Hyunjin sit in his desk chair as you elected to sit on his desk where he had you moments earlier, his head buried between your legs.

“Work has been a lot?” He asked with a tip of his head, his hands resting comfortably on his stomach as he began swiveling his chair.

“Oh like you wouldn't believe!” You huffed, fishing out the hand-held mirror Hyunjin kept in his desk just for you and began scanning your reflection to fix any smudged makeup.

If anybody walked in right now, they never would have guessed that you two were doing anything other than hanging out based on Hyunjin alone. Being a dance instructor made it easy to dismiss Hyunjins' disheveled appearance and noticeable, glistening skin. You, however, still had to go through the extra effort of making yourself look presentable.

“My boss just loves to pile on the work. I miss working for our dads. It was such an easy job, and they never breathed down my neck.” You complained, giving a frown when you heard Hyunjin snicker next to you. “Don't laugh. We can't all work our dream job.”

“It's just funny. You're the one who was so excited to get out from under our dads, but now you're realizing just how good you had it with them.” He teased as he slid his desk chair in front of you to help you straighten up.

“As if you didn't do the same.” You pout.

“Oh, I didn't complain while I was working with them.” He shot back, reaching out to wipe a smear of lipgloss you had missed from the corner of your lips. He got you there.

A phone alarm caught your attention, causing you to heave a heavy sigh.

“Time to go.” You said.

“Or you could always stay and sit in.”

“No thanks. I'm not really in the mood for any more dating allegations from your younger students. And I'm definitely not in the mood for your thirsty ass adult students glaring at me.”

“Come on, baby, stay. You could hang out in the staff lounge.” He offered.

“Pet names like that is why people think we're dating, you know.”

“I think the new guy likes you, could give you two a chance to get acquainted.”

“Pass.”

“Boo… fine.” Hyunjin said with a pout as he flopped back into his chair, a hand melodramatically clutching at his heart. “Go ahead, leave me. It's obvious you don't love me anymore.”

“Yeah, because it's not like I drove over an hour from home to see you or anything.” You scoff as you slip off the desk, poking him playfully on the forehead and laughing at how he acted like you had just punched him square in the face.

Hyunjin had moved from your small town to the nearby city to attend college and became a permanent resident when he got his job at an all-ages dance studio. Meanwhile, you stayed in your hometown and moved into an apartment with your high school friend Jisung, but you would come and see Hyunjin whenever you missed him and he had time to spend with you. Lately, those moments have started to become fewer and further apart.

“Do you really have to go home?” He asked as you did one final once over of your reflection in the dance studio mirrors.

“Unfortunately. I promised Ji I'd join him and the guys for karaoke tonight. I'm already going to be late cause I decided to stay here longer instead of leaving this morning like I planned.”

Hyunjin frowned, draping himself over your shoulders in defeat. He wanted to whine, to make you stay, to not have to give you back, but he didn't want to keep you from your friends. Especially not when you already made the commitment to spend time with them. He nuzzled his face into your shoulder, and you knew he was going to walk you out this way. Luckily for you, though, he only took you so far as the front door of the building.

“Promise me you'll come see me again soon, okay, Beautiful?” He whispered into your ear before letting you go.

“I promise.” With a kiss to his cheek, you were out the door and to your car. You didn't want to admit this, but you were eager to be on your way back home. As much as you loved spending time with Hyunjin, recently, he's been too busy to see you or even really talk to you. You knew it wasn't his fault, he loved putting his all into his job and deserved a social life outside of your friendship, so you decided to try to busy yourself by spending more time with Jisung and his friends.

You loved spending time with them, with all of them, of course, but mostly one of them in particular.

#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #bang chan #lee felix #han jisung #hwang hyunjin x reader #smut #backstory #jealousy #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stay #skz stay #what once was mine #Glow's ✨️ Fics #eventual established relationship #established relationship

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years ago

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JUST HOW FAST THE NIGHT CHANGES (part 5)

A/N: ahh we have reached the end!! thank you for coming with me on this journey, i hope you liked these high school sweethearts!

PAIRING: Harry x High-School-Best-Friend!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5k

SERIES MASTERPOST | SUPPORT ME!

“Are you okay? Are you hungry?”

“Harry, you’ve asked this like a million times in the past hour, I’m fine.”

You can’t hold back a chuckle as you pay with your water bottle’s cap. You feel quite out of place in the luxurious lounge you didn’t even know existed at the airport. You have only left Europe just once before and you did not fly with a private jet back then like you’re now. It’s a whole different world, Harry’s world that you now seem to be part of, though it’s gonna take a while to get used to it.

Maybe you shouldn’t. After all, this is all Harry’s, the attention, the money, the luxury, it’s all him, not you.

“I just want you to have a good time,” Harry mumbles beside you.

“I’m having a good time,” you assure him.

Things have been so different since the night he spent at your place. Waking up next to him was a whole new experience you knew you could get used to very quickly. Your feet were tangled together and he was lying so close to you, you could see every little freckle and blemish on his beautiful face.

You spent a peaceful morning together, just making breakfast, drinking coffee and talking before he had to leave. Since then, you’ve been texting nonstop and even met a couple of times. Harry seems to be seeking every and any opportunity to see you and it’s hard, if not impossible to say no to him when he begs you to grab coffee with him when you’re on a break from work.

You’re falling for him. Seriously and undoubtedly. And it’s not a silly teenage crush anymore, the feelings you’re harboring for him are heavy and kind of scary. You still haven’t figured out how to deal with your own fears, the hurt from the past and the desire to be with Harry.

For now, you’re trying your best to ignore these doubts and enjoy your impromptu trip to Palm Springs.

This is your first real glimpse into Harry’s life. The jet, the hotel, the restaurants, it’s been all just like in the movies. You knew this was his reality, but living it through with him is a whole different story.

You’ve been attached by the hip since the start of the trip, he’s been bringing you everywhere he could, though you still had some work to take care of, he tried his best to limit his meeting and work calls to those periods.

Tonight is his first show out of the two birthday shows he is giving. It’s not officially his birthday yet, but you still want him to have a great day. So for a change, you take matters into your own hands. You started off with bringing breakfast to his bed, you woke up super early to catch him before his morning workout session, brought his pastries, fruits and coffee that you ate on his bed together before parting ways, only to reunite before lunch.

You stay at the hotel restaurant, but you have the servers bring him out a cupcake with a candle on top to make it special.

“Y/N, my birthday is not until tomorrow,” he mumbles, but can’t tone down his goofy smile as he watches the light of the candle dance in front of him.

“You deserve a two day long birthday,” you chuckle. “Make a wish and blow out the candle,” you clap your hands in excitement.

He stares at you for a few moments before closing his eyes, thinking hard of his wish before blowing out the light quickly.

“Share it with me,” he says, pulling the candle out of the top and reaching for the butter knife he starts cutting it in half.

“Ah, no, I better not,” you shake your head, your chest tightening.

“Why?”

“I’m just… trying to… get in shape,” you say, feeling awkward that you have to say it out loud. It always makes you think of the comments Drew used to make on your appearance once you started putting on weight.

“In shape?” Harry asks, but still places half of the cupcake in front of you. “You’re in perfect shape, Y/N,” he says without even realizing how important the words are.

You stare at him for a while, watching him lick some of the frosting off, oblivious how he just made your heart race in your chest. It’s been forever since a man made you feel good in your own skin. Drew made no effort to help you when your body started changing and when you gained all the weight you’re carrying now as well, he just worsened it with his spiteful comments about your looks.

Now here’s Harry, who seems to be more than fine with your current looks and he just said your shape is perfect. And you finally believe it.

He looks up and finds you staring. “What? Did I say something wrong?” he asks, but you shake your head and before you could change your mind you lean closer and press a kiss to his cheek.

“No. You said the best thing. Now, let’s eat this cupcake,” you chuckle.

In the afternoon, Harry spends some time in his room, relaxing before the show and you use this opportunity to do some work until it’s time to leave to the venue. You’ve been jumping from excitement inside, because this will be the first time you see him perform live. Of course you’ve searched up videos of him throughout the years, watched some of his performances, but you know those will never be the same as being there in person.

It’s also your first experience being backstage at an event and it’s making you feel quite important, you have to admit. Harry hasn’t said anything, but you just know he noticed the child-like excitement in your eyes.

You watch the soundcheck, walking around the arena he will fill up very soon with his screaming fans, but for now it’s just you. You sneak some videos of him, wanting to have physical memories of this moment and you’re so absorbed in the experience that you completely miss it when he snaps a picture of you as well from the stage, being his only audience.

Once everything is set and done you mostly just chill backstage when they start to let the fans in, Harry does some of his usual rituals and you meet tons of new people, because he keeps introducing you to everyone. You don’t have the heart to tell him you stopped remembering all the names like thirty minutes ago, he seems so enthusiastic to show you around and tell people you’ve known each other since forever.

You’re hanging out in his dressing room, watching him get his hair done though it will be ruined minutes into the show and he also gets his nails done, which you have to admit is an amazing thing to see. A man, so comfortable in his masculinity that he just sits and watches someone paint his nails different colors. It’s something you never thought you’d find hot, but it definitely is.

When he’s not paying attention to you, you reach into your bag and look for the little gift box that’s hiding his birthday gift and you’re just about to give it to him once he’s done with his nails, but then some people from his crew come in and you’re quick to drop the box back into your bag. Maybe you’ll have a better moment after the show.

“So, where do you want to stand?” he asks, curling an arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk out of his dressing room when there’s not much left until start.

“Can I go out?”

“To the pit? Yeah, sure,” he nods. “You want the fan experience?” he smirks down at you.

“That’s the real thing, right?”

“You should have made a sign then.”

“Who said I didn’t?” you tease him, making him laugh. “Well, I didn’t, but I might steal someone’s sign.”

“I’ll be looking out for it then.”

He soon has to leave your side to get under the stage. You watch him climb into his little box and you think it’s the funniest thing you’ve seen, you even snap a picture of him before it’s closed and he gets rolled out under the stage.

Until the start you stay with Jeff and when it’s time he walks you out to a secluded area in the pit, right on time to witness the opening of the show.

You knew he is truly in his element on stage, but seeing it with your own eyes is a whole different experience. It’s like a different version of him, yet you know it’s the same Harry. Everything he tends to hold back in his everydays he lets loose the moment he sets his feet on the stage. He’s breathtaking, the singing, the moves, the interactions, it all feels like magic and your heart is full every time you see him laugh up there.

“Okay, give me a minute, I’m looking for someone down there,” he speaks into the microphone as he is walking to the wing of the stage that’s closer to you and you already know you’re about to be in the center of the attention.

“Oh shit,” you shake your head and Jeff laughs beside you.

“Are you surprised?” he asks.

“Not really,” you sigh, just when Harry’s gaze lands on you.

“There you are!” he points at you, the fans start screaming as he stops at the edge of the stage. “Y/N, you promised me a sign, but I don’t see anything,” he scolds you, making you laugh as you bury your face in your hands. “Y/N is an old friend of mine, everyone, and tonight is the first time she is seeing me performing!”

The cheering washes over the arena as you feel the heat crawling up your neck and cheeks.

“How do you like the show so far, Y/N? Enjoying yourself?”

“It’s good!” you hold your thumbs up, which earns you a round of applause and a cocky grin from Harry.

“Okay, cool, but I’m still waiting for a sign from you.”

“Maybe tomorrow!” you laugh and Harry joins in as he walks away, carrying the show on.

By the end of the concert you’re jumping around and singing like the fans around you, having the time of your life. You catch Harry’s eyes on you several times and he can’t hold his own smile back every time he sees you.

Jeff walks you backstage when the show is over, everyone is buzzing and you’re bummed it’s over but you’re glad you can watch it all over again tomorrow. When you reach his dressing room you hesitate, not sure whether he needs some time alone after such a long show or not, but at last you decide to knock on his door. It flies open moments later and he’s there, still wearing his concert outfit, a cheesy grin plastered across his face.

“So, how did you like it?” he asks as he pulls you into the room, shutting the door closed.

“It was fantastic,” you smile at him, heart full of pride. “I never knew someone could be this good of a performer.”

“Aw, you’re gonna make me blush,” he grins, but you know how much he is enjoying the compliments.

Looking around you make sure you’re alone and you decide it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“I have something for you.”

Harry watches you with curiosity as you dig into your bag and grab the little box again. Your heart is hammering in your chest, you really don’t want him to think your gift is stupid or childish. It’s nothing fancy, he has probably gotten gifts that cost a fortune, but this one is not one of those. You can only hope he’ll find it just as special as you do.

“I know your birthday is only tomorrow, but I want to be early and give this to you. Happy Birthday.”

You hand him the box that he takes as if it was the most delicate thing he’s ever touched.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Y/N,” he smiles baskfully as he unties the thin ribbon on top of the box.

“It’s nothing big or extreme, just… a little something.” You’re rubbing your hands together nervously as you watch him take the lid off and finally lay his eyes on the gift.

You made him another bracelet, to replace the one that was ruined all this time ago. It looks a tad bit cooler than the original one that you made out of the most random beads. This time you looked for special, one of a kind beads to make the bracelet and you think it suits his style and personality perfectly.

“I just thought that you could have a new one, it’s a little more sophisticated than the previous one. Y-You don’t have to wear it, of course, I just–”

“I love it, Y/N, and I will be wearing it all the time,” he cuts you off, putting it on instantly before taking a closer look at it.

“You like it?” you ask quietly.

“No, I said I love it and I really do,” he corrects you. “Thank you so much.”

Before you could even get a word out he wraps you up in his tight embrace, his scent fills up your nose as your face is pressed against the base of his neck.

He has always been great at giving hugs, he uses almost his whole body and wraps you up in a way that makes you want to stay in his arms forever and it hasn’t changed a bit. You gladly circle your arms around his waist and hold onto him, melting against his warmth, giving yourself over to the feeling of being swallowed by Harry’s love and appreciation.

At one point one of his hands comes up to the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair as he is still hugging you with just as much strength as a minute ago and it seems like he is not planning to let you go anytime soon.

“Y/N, you are…” he speaks up softly, but his words turn into an exhale you feel against your shoulder and a shudder runs down your spine. You wait and wait and then he finally speaks up again. “You are everything to me.”

Your heart grows three times bigger at his words, makes you feel like it’s about to burst out of your chest and right into Harry’s hands. As much as you want to keep hugging him, preferably forever, you know you need to see his face now. Mustering up all your will you pull back just enough to look into those breathtaking green irises and you see so much and even beyond that in them. You see your and his past self, your future, a life you could have if he never left and the one you’re possibly on the verge of.

And you love all of them. You love everything about him, every thought, every memory, every possibility you’re gonna face together.

“Harry…” you breathe out when his face is so close, your noses are almost brushing together.

“Yeah?” he whispers, just when his eyes slip down to your lips.

“What are we doing?”

“Whatever you want to do, Y/N.”

You almost whine at his answer, practically ready to beg him to never leave your side, but you manage to keep some of your dignity.

Taking a deep breath you close your eyes and try to think straight, because you know this is a moment there’s no going back from, but you need to make sure you’re fully ready for all of it. Harry doesn’t rush you, instead, he rests his forehead against yours and cups your cheek in one hand while the other one remains on your waist.

The teenage girl in you is screaming right now, demanding to give your all to him, but the Y/N that went through the past through years is scared, because it’s pretty much a free fall into something that could potentially break your heart and that would be deadly this time.

“If I do this, I’ll give my all to you, Harry,” you say as a warning, but you’re also silently begging for him to be the change you need in your life probably more than anything.

“Y/N, I would take whatever you have for me, even if it’s the smallest crumble. And if I get to have all of you… God, that would be absolute heaven,” he chuckles, nuzzling his nose against your playfully.

“So it’s not just a momentary thing, right?” you ask, holding onto the last bits of your self control before you let yourself fall completely.

“Momentary? I’ve… I’ve loved you since I was twelve, probably. My feelings for you are the least momentary thing in my life,” he breathes out the words as if he was in immense pain and you can feel the last string snapping before you push forward and your lips meet his.

Or maybe he is the first one to move, it’s hard to tell once your lips melt together and you kiss like there’s no tomorrow. You’ve never experienced a passion like this, the need to get closer and closer even when you’ve basically become one takes over your body, your mind is blank, Harry occupies all your thoughts, the way he is touching, you, his scent, the little noises he makes when you gently bite onto his bottom lip… You never thought kissing could bring this much excitement and passion.

It’s messy but simply perfect, Harry is pushing forward making you inch backwards and you bump into a chair somewhere in the way, which makes both of you laugh before you return to the demanding kisses. You memorize the way his hair feels between your fingers as you comb through them, how his fingers dig into your waist as he keeps you tight against him, the way his thigh ends up between your legs at one moment and your body moves against your will, grinding against him.

Maybe you would have gone even further, but there’s a loud crash somewhere outside the room that breaks your little bubble and makes you realize you’re still in his dressing room and someone could walk in any moment.

Not too willingly, but you come to a stop slowly, your forehead resting against his as you try to calm your breathing. Harry goes in for a few more soft pecks on your lips and nose before he finally forces him to pull back.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and then we can leave,” he murmurs, playfully nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

Harry nods and his arms fall from around you, already making you miss his touch as he disappears in the bathroom.

You send out a few emails in the meantime and when Harry emits from the steamy bathroom in a pair of sweatpants and a simple white shirt, you’re ready to leave. He gathers his stuff quickly, throwing his Pleasing tote bag over one shoulder and he reaches for your hand, taking it gently before pulling you towards the door.

You walk out of the building hand in hand and suddenly you feel like a teenager again who is holding hands with a boy for the first time. But for god’s sake, you’ve been married before! What is happening to you?!

Harry is driving on the way back to the hotel and when he places a hand on your thigh over the console you almost start giggling, but you manage to keep a somewhat straight face. When you arrive he takes your hand again and as you step into the elevator, just the two of you luckily, he wastes no time to pull you into his arms and kiss you again, finally.

“Spend the night with me,” he mumbles against your lips and you involuntarily stiffen for a moment. You’ve been yearning for him forever but you don’t want to jump into things too fast, you need some time to think and process.

Harry notices the change in you instantly.

“We don’t have to do anything, I just want to fall asleep and wake up next to you.”

“Okay,” you whisper when the elevator comes to a stop and the door slides open. “I need to grab a few things though.”

“Sure. Just come over whenever you’re done,” he nods, presses a kiss to your forehead and you part ways, going into your separate rooms for now.

You run around the room in a frenzy, you shower and do a quick shaving session even though you truly don’t plan to have sex just yet, but still, you want to be smooth. Then get dressed in a pair of cotton shorts and your sleeping shirt before heading over to Harry’s room. You barely just knock on the door and it flies open instantly, Harry pulls you inside and kisses you like he hasn’t seen you in ages when in reality it’s been only twenty minutes.

“You smell so good,” he hums, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he walks you over to the bed, unable to keep his hands off you.

“I just showered,” you chuckle at the tickling feeling of his breath on your skin.

He kisses you some more before pulling back and approaching the mini bar.

“Do you want something?”

“Just maybe some water, thank you.”

He hands you over the bottle and he chooses to drink some orange juice. You make yourself comfortable on his bed, set your phone on the nightstand and watch him move around the room, throwing some of his stuff into his suitcase before he joins you on the mattress.

Now that you’re settled it all dawns on you, the kiss, the things you both said and you realize you need to talk it out to make sure you’re heading in the same direction.

“So… That happened,” you say, nervously fumbling with the covers, but you realize how awkward it sounded the moment the words leave your mouth. Harry chuckles as he runs a hand through his hair.

“It definitely did. How do you feel about it?”

“I’m… nervous. But also… excited?”

“Is that a question?” he smirks cheekily.

“No. I am excited.”

“Good. Because I’m fucking ecstatic about it.”

“Really?” you smile sheepishly, resting your head in one hand as you lean onto your elbow on your side.

“Thought it was pretty obvious when I confessed to you earlier. I want whatever you have for me, Y/N. Truly.”

“So… we’re gonna do this? We’re… together?”

“Is that what you want?”

You take a moment to think about it, though your answer is already clear.

“Yes,” you nod. Harry scoots closer and kisses you softly.

“Then yes. We are.”

“How are we going to do it? I mean… I can’t always just travel with you, I need to return home at one point.”

“We’ll figure it out. Don’t stress about it.” He traces the side of your face before cupping your cheek gently. “I’ve wanted this for so long, I will do anything to make it work.”

“Isn’t it crazy that we both had feelings all these years ago and… it only happened now?”

“Wait, you had feelings too? When we were young?”

“Thought it was obvious,” you shrug with a shy smile.

“Not really,” he chuckles. “Damn, I could have just made a move on you back then and we would have been together since then?”

“Maybe the timing would have been wrong. I think things happened this way for a reason. We had to go over all of this to reach this point.”

“You mean we had to stop talking and meet all those wrong people? I feel like I could have been fine without that,” he sighs, his hand resting on your waist as you lie facing each other. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer, but… I noticed that your whole relationship with your ex was very… private. I didn’t even know you got married let alone had a divorce.”

“Were you spying on me?” you tease him and you notice the pink shade on his cheeks as he shrugs.

“Maybe.”

Deep down you kind of knew this would come up at one point, but you didn’t think it would happen so early. You had plenty of time to think about why you never felt the urge to show off your relationship with Drew and you always knew one thing for sure that contributed to the end of it as well along with the terrible happenings.

“You’re gonna think I’m insane,” you whisper, scrunching your nose as you pull your legs up.

“I’m sure I won’t. I could never judge you.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you muster up the courage to tell him the truth.

“I loved Drew but part of me always knew it wasn’t meant to be, I just ignored my instinct. There was this voice in the back of my head every time we reached a milestone and I tried not to listen to it, but it lingered there and it had an effect on my acts either way.”

“What was it saying?”

“That he was not you.”

Your confession seems to catch him by surprise, leaving him stunned and you wonder what’s going on in his head.

“I inevitably kept comparing him to you or… the idea I had of you. I always knew my feelings for Drew were nothing like the ones I felt for you, but I told myself it was silly, because at that point we weren’t even talking. But it didn’t feel right. That part of me always wanted to be with you and I kept my relationship to myself because it simply didn’t feel right in a sense. It should have been a red flag, I shouldn’t have stayed with him, but I didn’t think I would ever see you again and I was afraid of ending up alone so I just… put up with what I had.”

It’s probably the very first time you’ve ever said it out loud, it’s been a secret you kept buried deep down in your chest, but you feel like with Harry you can share anything.

“Do you… Do you think it’s crazy?” you ask, not entirely sure what he is thinking but the fact that he hasn’t moved away from you is definitely promising.

“Crazy? There’s nothing crazy about this, Y/N. If anything, it’s making me happy,” he smiles softly.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Because I can absolutely relate to these feelings and thoughts. I felt like I was searching for you all my life, the way you made me feel… nothing compared to that.”

You’re on the verge of crying, hearing that your feelings have always been mutual is like a piece you missed all your life, but now he’s made you complete.

With wobbling lips you scoot closer until you can wrap your arms around his neck and he doesn’t hesitate before locking you in his embrace.

“Don’t cry, this is a happy moment, isn’t it?” he asks with an airy laugh as he holds you tight.

“It’s a happy cry,” you admit as tears start rolling down your cheeks, melting into his shirt. “God, I missed you. I missed all of you, all the time! I hated it when everything changed overnight and you weren’t here, but I’m so happy you’re here.”

The words are flowing out of you uncontrollably, but you don’t mind it, this is the moment when you know you can let it all out.

“I’m here to stay. Forever. I’m never letting go of you,” he whispers and holds you in his arms until you both fall asleep.

And in the morning you finally face the start of the life you’re spending together.

WEDDING SEASON IN STYLE

Harry Styles is kicking off the summer wedding season in style with his lovely girlfriend by his side. The singer was spotted at a high school friend’s wedding this weekend in the English countryside, having a blast at the party after the ceremony. A series of photos have surfaced of the special occasion where we can see the As It Was singer supporting his friends at the ceremony wearing a creamy colored suit with a baby blue shirt underneath, his pearl necklace spicing the fit up that coordinated perfectly with his girlfriend’s dress of the same shade of blue.

The pair is known to make a habit out of color coordinating their outfits, they have proven to be the perfect match before on casual outings and their first official debut as a couple on the red carpet at the Grammy’s earlier this year. It is unknown how long they’ve been together, but devoted fans have pointed out they have known each other from before Styles’ X-Factor days. In the past few months they have been spotted together several times in different cities while Styles is on tour and the latest photos are proof of how happy they really are.

They were photographed slow dancing, goofing around with their other friends and mingling with guests, of course, holding hands the whole time. A source close to the pair has said earlier that the lovebirds are practically glued together, kind of in a honeymoon phase and the singer is trying his best to navigate his life on tour with his lover’s life back home in London. They are said to be devoted to the blossoming relationship and everything that has surfaced about them just proved how happy they are. Maybe soon enough it will be their own wedding they will be attending? The fans’ reactions have been mixed, but mostly positive, especially because it’s obvious the singer seems to be in his best shape and mood in the past months.

YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE: Y/N Y/L/N holds up funny sign at boyfriend Harry Styles’ latest concert

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