#i was driving and i passed by a guys house that had a sign on the lawn that said 'things i will accept'

[mymindisneverhere]

Other Side

summary: Kelvin tries to break you out of your shell… unaware of who would actually come out.

warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI!, shy black fem!reader (kinda), small mention of depression, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names. (Forgive me if I forgot any)

(a/n: I licked the screen a few times when I came across this picture but that’s not important. 🫢)

“Kelvin!” He heard his name being called from across the room causing him to snap his head in the direction of the voice. 

“Yo!” Kelvin said, pointing to his long time friend Aaron. He made his way through the crowd of people on the dance floor until he reached his friend. “What’s up bro? It’s good to see you.” 

“You as well bro!” The London native spoke over the loud music. Aaron and Kelvin slapped hands and pulled each other into the universal bro hug before falling into conversation. “You didn’t get lost did you?”

“Nah, I mean the sign is big as hell on the front of the building.” Kelvin said. “But man, I can’t believe you actually came out and came to a club at that.”

“It’s my girls birthday tonight bro, she begged me to drive her and her friends around for the day.” Aaron said.

“I was about to say, she must’ve dragged your ass out the house cause ain’t no way you came on your own.” Kelvin joked, receiving an annoyed look from Aaron. 

“Whatever man.” He said, returning his attention to the dance floor where his girlfriend stood with one of her best friends.

Kelvin stood next to Aaron, eyeing the crowd as he nodded his head to the music blasting throughout the club. The men stood against the wall chatting about the atmosphere in the late night lounge, ordering drinks and speaking to some friends that passed by occasionally. 

Kelvin continued sipping on the alcoholic beverage as his eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on you. He slowly lowered the cup from his lips as he watched you make your way to the dance floor. Your beauty had him stuck in a trance.  

Your beautiful brown skin glowed under the blue and pink lighting that flashed from the ceiling. You wore a white halter top and matching mini skirt that hugged your hips just right and put your legs on full display. Your thick thighs glistened from the body shimmer you wore as you took steps across the floor. Your strapped heels elongated your legs causing you to appear much taller than you actually were. 

Kelvin stared at you as you joined your two best friends on the dance floor. You hugged your best friend Tati before finally pulling Jamie, the birthday girl, into a warm embrace. He watched as Jamie whispered to you, causing you both to turn and look up at the two men that were already eyeing you guys. You all waved, mainly to speak to Aaron but Kelvin waved back so caught up in the trance you had unintentionally lured him into. You all turned back around and fell back into the beat of the music but Kelvin kept his eyes on you. 

“Bro, who is that?” Kelvin asked, tapping Aaron on the shoulder. 

Aaron frowned and followed Kelvin’s eyes that were still glued to you. “Who? Y/N?” 

“All white with the legs? Her name is Y/N?” Kelvin asked. 

“Yeah man, that’s Jamie’s best friend.” Aaron said. He looked down at Kelvin and noticed the look of awe on his face, practically drooling as his mouth hung open. “Take a picture man, it’ll last longer.” 

Kelvin smacked his lips, finally taking his eyes off you and cutting them at Aaron. 

“Relax bro, she’s not one to date.” Aaron started, “She’s super shy, very quiet. She barely says two words to me when she comes over to visit Jamie. She’s extremely introverted.”

“So?” Kelvin asked, shrugging his shoulders. “What does that mean?”  

“She probably won’t talk to you because you’re always on 10 no matter where you are.” 

Kelvin paused and looked over at Aaron. “That never stopped you from hanging with me.” 

“I tolerate you, there’s a difference.” Aaron joked, before taking a sip of his beverage. 

“Wow, okay.” Kelvin said, playfully rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “I bet I can get her to talk to me, everyone loves me.”

Aaron’s eyebrows raised as he stopped himself from uttering another smart remark to his friend. “Whatever you say man.” 

Kelvin and Aaron continued going back and forth, betting on whether or not Kelvin would be able to have a full conversation with you. After a long argument, the two men decided to bet only $100 if Kelvin could get you to talk to him before the night was over. 

“Where are y’all going after this?” 

“Dinner at Grand Lux.” 

“Perfect, we’ll chat over dinner, I’ll pay for her food.” Kelvin said. “I’ll even offer to take her home cause I’m a gentleman.”

You danced with your girls as the three of you stood a few feet away from the DJ booth. You all moved your hips to the beat, flipping your hair over your shoulders and hyping each other up one at a time. It took you a few minutes to get comfortable on the dance floor. All it had taken was the DJ playing your favorite song “Where Them Girls At by Megan Thee Stallion” and you were falling into your own rhythm with your friends being your personal hype girls. 

“Okay Y/N, it’s about time you popped out girl!” Tati yelled over the loud music. 

“I know right!” Jamie said. “She’s finally having a good time after keeping herself in the house, hiding out from the world.” 

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, laughing at your friends. 

Tati looked over where Aaron stood with Kelvin and her eyes almost jumped out of her head. “How the hell did you manage to get Grandpa out of the house?” Tati asked, still dancing to the music. 

“I told him if he did this favor for me then I’d do one for him all night.” Jamie responded with a smirk on her face. 

You and Tati rolled your eyes, instantly catching onto exactly what Jamie had been referring to. 

“I don’t wanna start nothing but his friend has been starin’ at Y/N since she walked in.” Tati said, looking over at Chelsea. 

“He’s still staring as we speak.” Jaime said. 

You all turned to look over to see him staring. The two men waved at you once more which caused you to quickly turn your attention back to your friends. 

“I’m not interested.” You said, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. 

“Come on Y/N, it’s been forever since the breakup.” Jamie said. “Plus he’s super cool, he has a beautiful smile and he is funny as hell, just your type! He and Aaron have been friends for years, I think you should talk to him.”

“I’m good Jamie, besides it’s your night. I didn’t come out looking for a man.” You said, trying to take the attention off of you and revert it back to the birthday girl. 

Tati and Jamie exchanged a knowing look between one another but decided to leave the situation alone. After you found out about your ex-boyfriend cheating on you with an old friend, you slowly sank into a deep depression. You stopped going out, stopped answering phone calls and stopped caring about how you looked or what you wore. What was only supposed to be a few months of recovery from the break up, ended up being an entire year of hiding out. 

However, thanks to your friends Jamie and Tati, you were slowly coming back to yourself. Although you weren’t the life of the party type of girl, you always managed to have a good time when you were with them. You were shy, you were reserved, and sometimes a bit reluctant when it came to going after the things that you wanted. But somehow, you’d always find yourself neglecting your shyness and converting to your “alter ego”. 

Jamie was well aware of your ability to let loose but because it rarely occurred you guys never spoke about it. Jamie had been the only person to know about your “other side” until you introduced that part of you to your now ex-boyfriend. Due to the fact that he’d taken advantage of you, completely betraying your trust and acting as if you meant nothing to him, this made you never want to introduce that part of herself to anyone ever again… especially a man. 

“Aaron’s outside waiting for us. We’re heading downtown to Grand Lux after we leave here.” Jamie announced to the two of you. 

You both nodded and made your way to the bathroom holding hands as you broke through the crowd of people. Each of you took a look in the mirror before applying another layer of gloss, fluffing your hair and entering the stalls to finish your business. 

You stood in the stall and took a few deep breaths attempting to mentally prepare yourself for dinner at Grand Lux. Your nerves were getting the best of you. You had managed to avoid men, not even giving them the smallest of conversation. But you knew that there would be no ending the night without interacting with Kelvin. 

‘God please don’t let him sit next to me. He is too damn fine.’ You thought to yourself. 

“Y/N you alright in there?” Tati said, banging on the stall door. 

“Yeah, I was just checking my phone.” You replied, raising your foot to flush the toilet. 

You stepped out of the stall and made your way to the sink to wash your hands. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror and turned to Jamie. After running down the route to the restaurant and approximately how long it’ll take to get there, the three of you were all set and ready to go. 

————————————-

“What took you all so long?” Aaron asked, staring down at Jamie. 

“Girl stuff.” She replied as she took his hand and stepped into the all black truck, taking a seat directly behind his chair. 

Aaron stood and helped you and Tati into the truck as well before closing the door and getting into the driver's seat. 

“Babe, where’s Kelvin?” Jamie asked. 

“He’s going to meet us there.” Aaron responded, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the club's parking lot. 

The three of you fell into conversation completely ignoring the fact that Aaron was upfront, able to hear every word. 

“You’re not nervous are you?” 

“No it’s just that-“ You began, “It’s been so long, too long, since I’ve even looked at a guy. I don’t think I’m ready to entertain someone right now.” 

“Look, nobody is saying you have to take him seriously or get with him to see if he’s husband material.” Tati said. 

“Right!” Jamie agreed. “Just have a little fun with him. There’ll already be a friend there for Tati and now there’s a friend for you.” 

You looked between the two girls unsure of what to say next. You were contemplating on whether or not you should take their advice or continue to avoid men who showed any interest in you. Letting out a breath, you sat back in your seat and nodded, deciding to take one for the team. 

“He's a pretty cool guy.” Aaron casually stated, interrupting you guys’ conversation. The three of you snapped your heads in his direction, completely confused on why he was even entering the conversation to begin with. 

“Sorry.” He said, looking into the rear view mirror quickly before returning his eyes to the road. 

“He is a cool guy though.” Jamie said, turning to you. “Trust me, you’ll have fun.” 

‘They’re right, just have fun. Nothing serious.’ You thought. 

“Okay, let’s see how the night goes.” You  finally said, causing your friends to both squeal in excitement. 

——————————————————

You all sat around a large table enjoying your meals and joining in conversations. Jaime sat next to Aaron who sat next to Kelvin who sat next to you…  who had been picking over your food since it arrived at the table. Your nerves wouldn’t allow you to even take a nibble of the pasta that sat in front of you. 

Kelvin had tried his hardest to get you to engage in conversation but it wasn’t going too well. Your short responses never left room for the conversation to go any further, eventually leading to an awkward silence after each attempt. 

“Ow!” You yelped, reaching down to rub your knee after you felt a sharp heel kick you. 

“You okay?” Kelvin asked, looking over at you in concern. 

You looked up at Tati who was staring at you with wide eyes. You frowned as you watched Tatis lips move without sound. 

“Say something!” Tati mouthed, moving her lips in exaggeration to be sure you understood her. 

“Yeah I’m fine, just moving too much I guess.” You responded with a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t scare you did I?” 

“Nah, of course not.” Kelvin stated. “It’s okay though, I’m always bumping into stuff.

Kelvin’s attempt at easing the embarrassment he saw in your face had worked as a small smile crept onto your face. 

“So how was it starring in such a classic film?” You asked, looking over at him. You could see the shock in his face before it quickly washed away. He couldn’t believe you were actually asking him a question after thirty minutes of him playing 21 questions with you. 

“Man it was so much, let me tell you about it.” Kelvin instantly fell deep into the story of how it felt to be working with some of the most talented people in the industry. You were so caught up in his storytelling, you didn’t notice the waiter place a tall martini next to your water that had gone untouched. You could see Jamie’s hand waving at you from the corner of your eye. 

“I got you a drink!” She whispered, trying her hardest not to interrupt your talk with Kelvin. 

Leaning up from the table, you reached over to grab the drink and began taking small sips from the glass. After a few more minutes of engaging in conversation, and another martini, you were feeling the effects of the alcohol. The more Kelvin spoke, the more it was hard to focus on his eyes because his lips were catching your attention with every word he said. Your eyes slightly fell low as they landed on his lips and then back onto his eyes. The expression in your face didn’t go unnoticed as Kelvin slowly stopped talking, watching your eyes dart slowly back and forth between his mouth and his eyes. 

You weren’t doing this on purpose but it was something about you and your liquor that just brought out that other side of you. You could feel a slight throbbing between your legs as he slowly pressed his back against his chair. He was slightly matching your energy, unsure if he was doing too much or if he was even in control of what he was doing. It was as if the more he stared at you, the less power he had over his own body. 

”Why did you stop talking?” You asked, genuinely confused as to why he became so silent. 

“Uh, I don’t even know.” He said, sitting up straight and snatching his eyes off of you. He looked down at his plate and then back over to you before quickly tearing them from your gaze again and looking elsewhere. You placed your elbow onto the table and rested your chin in your hand.

“I would love to hear the rest if you’re still interested in telling me about it.” Your voice had become a bit calm, almost too calm. Kelvin was struggling with keeping his eyes on yours, your gaze was too intense for him. He had sensed the shift in your energy and was completely taken aback by the effect it was having on him. 

“Uh yeah, sure. I- uh,” He started, pushing himself further into the table, trying to hide what was happening below his waist. Kelvin was few seconds too late, seeing as though you had already noticed the slight bulge in his pants. You licked your lips as the images of him fucking your throat invading your thoughts. 

“Y/N, we’re getting ready to leave. You coming?” Jamie asked, raising her brows hoping you would say…

”Actually, Kelvin’s gonna take me home.” You said, before looking at him. “You’re okay with that right?”

”Yeah, for sure.” He nodded quickly, still refusing to meet your eyes. 

“Okay girl, you two be safe!” Tati winked at you, hinting at your drive home and any other activities that may take place between you and Kelvin. 

———————————-

The ride to your apartment was silent, mainly because Kelvin was at a loss for words. He was excited to talk to you, he had looked forward to it since he laid eyes on you at the club but for some reason he was feeling too many things that would contradict his claim at being a gentleman.

The same trance he was in at the club had managed to creep back up on him. Only it had been more intense, a bit more than he could handle. Having you close up, staring into his soul was damn near hypnotizing. He wasn’t a man who shied away from anything but you had him feeling nervous to look over at you, afraid he might fall into the trance all while driving. He didn’t wanna fall victim to your eyes once again.  

”You know, I was nervous to talk to you at first.” You said, looking over at him as he drove.

”Really?” He asked. “Why is that?”

”It’s just been a while since I’ve talked to a guy.” You turned your body toward him causing him to look out the corner of his eye. “Something as simple as casual conversation seemed like too much to handle but you're really easy to talk to.”

”That’s good to hear, I’m glad I could ease some of the tension.” He said, smiling slightly. 

“Can I ease yours?” You could tell this question caught him off guard as you felt your body jerk against the seatbelt. He had accidentally pressed the break a bit too hard, making you both lean forward a bit. 

“Sorry.” He laughed nervously, quickly looking over at you then back to the road. “I’m not feeling any tension right now.”

”I can see it.” You said, dropping your eyes to his crotch before returning them back to his face. 

“I mean but I’d like to think of myself as a gentleman. I just met you, you just met me.” Kelvin was babbling, panicking at your sudden change in demeanor. You had managed to go from timid to down right audacious, completely catching him off guard. He didn't know what to think at this moment, let alone what to say. You smirked to yourself, enjoying the power you were having over him. You had been so hung up on saving the other side of you for someone special, completely neglecting the fact that you deserved a good time as well. Who said you couldn’t let that other part of you come out and play for just one night? 

“Can you multitask?” You asked, sitting up in the passenger seat. 

“Uh, yeah. Why?” Kelvin said, shifting his gaze between you and the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he tried to imagine what you were about to do. 

You smirked before undoing your seatbelt and sitting up on your knees, lightly leaning over the armrest. Kelvin’s eyes cut to the corners as he watched you reach for his belt. The sound of the buckle jiggling was the only sound in the car as you worked on pulling his dick out of his pants. 

“You don’t wanna um- wait until um- the car is parked?” Kelvin asked nervously, still struggling to keep his eyes on the road. 

“No.” 

You pulled at the waist of pants until his dick sprang up. You bit down on your lip as you looked down at it. It was exactly what you expected, thick and veiny. You bent down and wrapped your lips around the head earning a sigh of satisfaction from Kelvin. Quickly coating the head with your saliva, you leaned down even further to take in more of him. He reached over to run his hand down your ass, pressing his fingers against the wet spot in your panties. 

You bobbed your head up and down, feeling his legs underneath you jump a bit. He was having a hard time keeping his speed consistent. Each time you took all of him in he’d press the gas harder, causing your body to rock a bit from the jerk of the car. 

“Fuck!” He spat, slapping your ass before running his fingers down your center. Moving as quickly as he could without interrupting his driving, he hooked a finger underneath your thong and pulled it around your ass cheek. 

Lifting up a bit, you moaned in excitement already knowing what he was going to do. 

“I thought you were a gentleman?” You asked playfully. 

“I am.” He responded. 

Kelvin dipped a finger into your folds, biting down on his lip at how wet you were. You were so tight around his finger, he could only imagine how good you were gonna feel around his dick. 

You took him back into your mouth, slurping and sucking while he fingered you. You wrapped your hand around the base of his dick and ran your tongue along the underside, focusing most of your attention on the head. You noticed how his breathing changed when you did this, listening carefully as he took in a sharp breath. 

Finally catching a red light, he gently pressed his foot against the break and snatched his hand from the wheel. You yelped lightly as you felt his hand against the back of your neck, pushing your head up and down on his dick. He sat back and rested his head against the driver's seat, cursing from the narrow feeling of your throat. 

He pushed two fingers into your pussy and rolled his wrist, pushing them back and forth into you. His fingers matched the pace of his hand on your neck. A groan left his lips as he heard the sounds your pussy was making, wet and creamy from the taste of him along your tongue. 

So caught up in the scene before him, he sat up quickly when he heard a car behind him honk their horn. He placed his hand back onto the steering wheel and pressed the gas. 

“I’m fucking you up when we get to your house.” He said, removing his fingers from your pussy and slapping your ass a few more times. 

“You promise?” 

———————————————————

You assumed the position on your queen size bed, all fours with your ass in the air. You rocked your hips a bit making your ass jiggle as Kelvin stood behind you eyeing you with low eyes. You were both completely undressed, only space and opportunity standing between the two of you. Kelvin stood just a few feet from the bed, dick standing at full attention as he licked his lips in anticipation.  

“You gonna stare at my ass all night or you gonna fuck me up like you said?” You smirked, looking over your shoulder at him. 

He walked up to you and placed a hand on your back as he positioned himself right at your entrance. Slowly thrusting his hips forward, he pushed his dick into you cursing underneath his breath at how tight you were. You both shut your eyes, taking in the feeling of one another. He was so thick, stretching you just right with every inch. You pussy fluttered a bit, trying to adjust to his girth.  

“So fucking tight.” He said, gripping both sides of your hips. 

Without hesitation, he thrusted in and out of you, staring down at your ass as it jiggled from impact. Your hands dug into the sheets, gripping them tightly as your body rocked with each stroke he gave you. You coated his dick so well, the creaminess pushing to the base with every thrust. 

“Look at that shit.” He said, slapping your ass to watch it jiggle even more. “You hear that pussy baby?”

“Yes!” You let out in an exaggerated breath. You could hardly focus on his words. Your eyes were barely open as you surrendered to the pleasure he brought you. You felt his hand creep up your back and grip onto your neck. In a quick motion, he pressed your face into the mattress, slamming his hips into yours repeatedly. 

The only sounds in the room were your loud moans, the gushy noise coming for your pussy and his skin slapping against yours. You felt your walls begin to ache around him, a release threatening to escape your hole. 

“Ohh fuucck.” You whined, your words getting lost in the sheets your face was buried in. 

“I feel that shit coming.” Kelvin was already catching on to your reflexes. He could feel your walls contract around his dick as you grew wetter with every stroke. “Cum on that dick baby.” 

“Fuck yes! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You yelled, encouraging him to fall even deeper into you. 

He lifted a leg onto the bed, never ending the rhythm that was sending you into a frenzy. His balls slapped against your clit, working you over twice more than before. The creaminess that dripped from your hole accompanied by the pressure from his heavy balls kept you from coming down so soon. 

You were already feeling another climax building. The sensitivity from your clit alone made it easy for your orgasm to seep through. Your eyes rolled into your head as your grip on the sheets tightened. 

“Daddy, I’m cummin’ again!” You cried through gritted teeth. Your tone was a mixture of pleading with him and begging for more. You wanted him to let up a bit to give you time to bounce back from the first orgasm but at the same time it felt too good to let go of. Your body shook underneath him as he squeezed your hips, holding you in place to prevent you from running. 

“You wanted me to fuck you up right?” He asked, taunting you all while you were cumming. 

“Yes!” You yelled. 

“Take this dick then.” 

You bit down on the sheets, moaning loudly as he continued fucking you. You weren’t a fan of tapping out but damn you just needed a few seconds to catch your breath. But he wasn’t granting you that anytime soon. He was fucking you like he had something to prove. Yes he was a gentleman but he also knew how to make you weep in more ways than one. 

The more he thrusted into you, the more you ran from his strokes, eventually ending up flat on your stomach. He pulled out of you and climbed on to the bed, laying on his side right next to you. He placed his hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him, pressing your back against his chest. 

“Put that dick back in.” He said, his lips slightly brushing against your ear lobe. 

You reached down and grabbed his dick, rubbing the tip through your slippery folds. You were trying to use this time to recoup and come back into reality. You could hear the sticky sounds your pussy was making each time you ran his dick in between your lips, loving how much he had managed to get you to make a mess in such a small amount of time. 

“Stop playing with me.” He spat, slapping your ass aggressively. 

You moaned from the slight pain and finally positioned his tip right at your entrance, pushing his dick back into you. He grabbed onto your leg, placing his hand into the bend of your knee as he thrusted into with full force. His other arm snaked under your neck and yanked your head back. He rocked his hips back and forth, lifting your leg more and more with each thrust. 

“Why that pussy so wet for me mama?” He spoke directly into your ear as he stared down at you. Your eyebrows were curled, mouth agape while his dick slid in and out of you. 

“I don’t… I-“ You tried to get it out but gave up just as soon as you started. 

He reached down and placed his fingers on your clit, rubbing it in circles. His dick pressed against your G-spot repeatedly while his fingers toyed it from the outside. Your body grew weaker as you fought the urge to hold it in any longer. 

“Feel. So. Good.” You moaned breathlessly in a rhythm with his strokes. Your hand gripped onto his arm that had a firm hold around your neck. 

“Fuck, I’m about to cum in this pussy.” He moaned. 

Kelvin closed his eyes as he pressed his lips to the side of your face. His breath lightly brushed against your jaw as you felt it increase. His fingers continued playing with your clit, feeling your pussy cream on his dick. The way you were taking him in, so wet and gushy, made it hard for him to last any longer than he wanted to. You could feel his dick jump inside of you, instantly pulling another orgasm out of you on the spot. 

“I’m cummin’!” You cried out. 

“I’m cummin’ with you baby.” He said, grabbing onto your leg. He gave a few more powerful strokes until you felt the warmth of his seed fill you. 

“Shit.” 

You both laid in place, chests rising as you fought to catch your breath. You blinked slowly, feeling your body slip into a well deserved slumber before Kelvin placed a kiss on your neck and lightly tapped your thigh. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet baby, I wanna spend the rest of my night with you before I go.” He said, bringing you out of a sleepy fog. 

(Please excuse any mistakes! 🩵)

[nicholasgoodgirl]

sin? maybe - father charlie

summary: your priest takes you home and it leads to other things

warning: p in v, oral (m receiving), face fucking, after care, virginity loss.

a/n: chat idk how to feel abt this at all and am too scared to read it back. i swear if i spelling his name wrong the whole time. im deleting this acc off the face of the earth

3:23pm

you were waiting in the rain; unbothered than anything. but there was no denying the tempeture change as the rain continued it was beginning to become unbearable. five minutes turning to ten, ten turning to fifteen. your mom still never came

you walked back into the church drenched from all the rain. your white dress sticking to you, it was still cold in the church nonetheless.

"y/n?" you turn around to your name being called "what are you still doing here?" father charlie asked.

"oh my mom never came to get me" she probably drank to much and passed out somewhere, it was embarrassing to admit but thats the only reason you went to church, so you can be far from her and to be nothing like her.

"you're all wet. how long have you been out there?" you shrug at his question. he tilted his head in observation looking you up and down; his eyes lingering longer on your breast.

that would have normally made you uncomfortable if it were anyone else, but it was father charlie and everyone knew him as the 'hot priest' and they weren't wrong either.

he clears his throat "uh I'll give you a ride home" he gave you a quick smile then grabbed his keys off the alter and on the way out grabbing his umbrella.

he put his hand on your lower back guiding you under the umbrella. he gave you the keys so you can unlock the car "why don't you start the car up while you're at it"

"oh i dunno how" you declined the offer politely but he insisted that you did it anyways so he can hold the umbrella for you.

you open the car door and bend over putting the upper half of your body inside the car and trying to start it up like that instead of actually sitting down. the key wouldn't really turn so you put your knee on the seat getting into the car more. while doing this you could gradually feel your dress raise. something in you just knew he was looking up your dress

you give up "i can't get it to start" he lets out a low chuckle and takes the keys from you and gestures for you to get out the car. you hold the umbrella while he gets in the car to start it up. the engine cuts on and he takes the umbrella from you and walks you to the passanger side and shuts the door behind you.

--

3:34 pm

in the car everything he did and had in his car intrigued you. the way he drives with one hand on the wheel and the other hand rested on his leg. the blankets he had in the backseat, the rosemary cross that was hanging from the rearview mirror

"whats your house adress?" he questioned parking at the stop sign, waiting for your answer.

you shrug again "you don't know where you live?" he probed. you did but it was embarrassing to think about how if your moms boyfriend saw you with a guy he would beat you.

"do you wanna come to my house instead" his question was almost hesitant but i accepted the offer with a smile.

--

4:01 pm

his house was nothing fancy, the aura of the place was comforting. he started a fire in the fireplace and it set a more warm tone in the room.

"you can use my shower. just walk down the hall, it's to your right. I'll bring you a warm towel and clothes"

you walk down the hall and take a turn to the right and find his bathroom. it was definitely not like the bathroom at your house. it was clean the, the scent of father charlie lingered.

you undress then walk over to the shower putting it on hot. a couple minutes into the warm water hitting your body changing your body temperature from cold to warm there was knocks at the door.

"It's unlocked!" i yelled from the shower. and the door opens "i have no actual clothes that you would probably wear to bed but you can wear one of my shirts" ,,don't even worry about it" you reassure

it didn't matter to you, you actually liked the idea of prancing around in that mans shirt. you couldn't forgive yourself for how bad you wanted him to fuck you in the shower.

"well call me if you need anything" he opens the door to leave out. "wait!- wait.. father charlie"

"you can just call me charlie" he corrects. "could you maybe talk to me about your day or anything i don't wanna be alone right now"

you could hear father charlie chuckle at the question "sure. why not"

he began talking about his day while i cleaned myself off. he went into detail about how he made his breakfast and how precise everything had to be. meanwhile i just couldn't get the thought of him talking me through sex.

"you're doing so well"

"how does that feel"

"you need me to slow down" the thought didn't stop it felt so wrong but you needed him. you were giving him hums to let him know you were still listening.

you turn the water off "can you hand me my towel" your hand reaches out of the curtain and you can feel the towel being placed in your hand "thank you"

"can i-" he was cut off by you walking out the shower with just your towel on. he cleared his throat "I'm gonna go" he reached for the door but you grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"will you stop it" he snaps. both his hands grab your arm "stop! im trying so hard not to sin but for fucks sake you're making it nearly impossible"his words comes flying out faster than you could process

"oh.." you mumbled. "y'know we can do something about your little problem" you look down at the buldge in his pants.

he wasnt wearing his vestmant anymore he was just in a black button up with some black formal pants making it more noticeable.

"fucking hell" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "such a slut. i thought you would have been good. looked so pure" he spat almost like it wasn an insult. "guess not"

"have you ever touched youreslf?" the question wasnt one you would like to answer cause you always felt shame afterwards but nodded anyways avoiding eyes contact; not proud of your doings.

"of course you do" he breathed out "on your knees" ,,what?" you question unsure if you heard him right

"baby you have been so sweet to me so far and I'd hate it if i have to repeat myself"

you drop to your knees and he unbuckles his belt not breaking eye contact with you once. father charlie pulls his pants down and his underwear.

you grab his dick and put it in your mouth. hallowing your cheeks out "look at you taking me so well" he tangles his hand in your hair, grabbing ahold of it and pushing your head forward causing you to gag; you could feel him touching the back of your throat.

"lord please forgive me" he whispered so low it's a suprise you even heard the words come out his mouth

at this point he was just fucking your face, he was watching as his cock disappeared into your mouth. after a while your eyes began to water.

he pulls you away from him "stand up" ,,did i do something wrong?" you ask, letting your towel drop, standing to your feet. wanting to fix any mistake you made along the way. "no sweetheart, you did just fine i just wanna be inside you instead"

he turns you over but you weren't as thrilled about this as he probably was. you were a virgin and too scared to tell him.

he bends you over the counter and you grab ahold of it for support. he lines himself up with you and pushes in

"so fucking tight" he groaned. "wait-" you hit the counter top with your hand "please just wait" you whine

he stops what he's doing and waits for your signal to go "you can move.." my words come out sounding almost strangled.

he pushed in and out of you and for a second you can hear his breath hitch "are you on your period?"

"what!? no" you look behind you and see his lips slowly curl into a smirk "you're a virgin aren't you?" ,,mhm" you nod "even better" he gloated

you could feel his dick hit a spot that made your toes curl. the burning sensation goes away with each rut. you let a few whimpers slip and a grunt with every thrust; your body jolting forward.

he gripped your hips tightly to allow himself to pound into you. you could have sworn you felt his tip hit your cervix.

the sounds of skin slapping against eachother flooded the bathroom "you're such a slut. letting your priest fuck you over a bathroom counter"

he pulled your hair back putting you into a deeper arch, to hit your sweet spot. a guttural moan leaves your lips "oh fuck" you moan.

father charlies hand goes down to your clit rubbing firm circles, sharp uneven breaths pulled through you as you could feel your orgasm approching.

with no warning his warm seed coats your insides, as he rides out his high. his fingers continues to rub in circular motion which makes you finish next; unfolding right there.

you hold his hand to stop him. "im done i can't take anymore" you whisper.

"im sure" he pulls out letting a hiss escape, then walks over to the shower and letting the water run again. the both of you get in and shower together.

he got done before you and while you were still getting clean he made you a snack.

--

5:59 pm

you two were laid in bed. your head resting on father charlies chest while he traces light shapes on your skin.

"what do i tell my mom" you ask. "whatever you want sweet girl" he kissed your head. what were you gonna tell your mom, you were with another man in his shirt. and overall he's the priest of the church you go to.

[dearsnow]

A WAITING GAME

- coming from a broken family, you often had to wait for next time you would be loved. meeting your new neighbor changed that. (robert “bob” floyd x fem!reader, angst and fluff, SLOW BURN, essentially just scenes of you growing up with our favorite WSO, slight prequel to the events of top gun: maverick, includes random original characters to drive the plot ⚠️ alcoholism is a major theme, some instances of harassment from a bully, and like one sexual innuendo but nothing graphic)

word count: 20,135

a/n - ohhhh my gosh, it’s finally here 😭 it’s genuinely the size of a novella, which is insane. i really hope you guys like this bc it took so much time and effort. it’s also the longest thing i’ve ever written, which is amazing in its own right. if you’re the type to listen to music while reading, i suggest a steady stream of hozier, noah kahan, phoebe bridgers, and leith ross <3

Your whole life was a waiting game. Waiting for school to end, for school to start again, for the house across the street to finally have new occupants, for your mother to put the bottle down, for the fairies you were so sure existed to appear in your popsicle stick fairy house, for your stones to finally skip across the creek, for something, anything to happen before you drove yourself insane. And, above all else, you waited for love. It was a pitiful way to grow up, really. Just sitting and letting the days pass by so you couldn’t feel the burning ache of loneliness that writhed and spat in your stomach. You never thought that you could cease this pattern of waiting for something that would never fulfill you, until, inevitably, things changed.

The “for sale” sign that you could see so clearly from your second-floor bedroom window had been replaced by a cheery “sold” sign. Something about it excited you; new neighbors, new people to talk to and play with and bother with your incessant imagination. There was also fear, too. The fear that they would turn a blind eye to the scent of cigarettes woven into your papered walls and the nail marks on the insides of your palms. You took your mind off the notion when you saw a boy right around your age step out of the moving van.

He had glasses, sandy brown hair, a cast on his foot, and a scared little frown. You slid off your bed with a small huff, your socked feet hitting the dusty carpeted floor. This was something new, for once. The stares of the stuffed animals strewn around your room comforted your mild anxiety as you walked through your door frame and down your rickety wooden stairs. You had to move one foot down and then pull the other to match. You were too afraid of keeping just one foot on a single step, even while you clutched the peeling handrail. You hit the bottom and opened the unlocked front door, peering out into the hazy, sunny day.

You were still in your socks, but you figured it didn’t matter. They were pink and yellow striped, just a bit too small. You traipsed across your dying front lawn and across the street, cautiously watching for cars. There were none. The boy turned, his blue eyes locking with yours, and you froze. It was the middle of a hot Montana day, the dry, summery kind that makes your mouth shrivel up, but all you could focus on was how he looked at you with curiosity. Gone was the frown. You peered down, staring into the black asphalt. Oh. You were still on the road. Your feet moved on their own, and you found yourself on the sidewalk, toeing the grass of his lawn. It wasn’t dying.

“Your socks are inside-out,” was the first thing he said. His voice was quiet and kind, like he was trying not to embarrass you. He pointed at the threads hanging off of the seams.

You nervously tucked your hands behind your back. “I know. I like them to be.” He accepted the statement, pulling his hand back and planting it nervously on his hip. His one sock was right-side-in and tucked into a little orange shoe.

That day, as mundane as it was, became one of your favorites to remember.

The next day, after your introduction, you and the boy (who you quickly came to know as Bobby) went down to the creek. His mother had supplied you with sandwiches and cookies in little brown paper bags, folded neatly and marked with your names. You had never eaten out of a brown paper bag before.

Bobby was careful in how he scaled down the small, rocky hill that bordered the creek. He smartly put your lunches on a safe outcropping, to be eaten later. While climbing, he put all his weight on his non-injured foot and was sure to not step on any stray branches. You, having been down this path many times, guided him.

“Don’t step there, Bobby. That’s where the snakes are.” You said, eyeing the little gathering of rocks. He hummed gratefully and adjusted his path.

As you both made it to the bottom, he made sure to stay far enough away from the water so as to not wet his boot. You, however, didn’t really care. Your feet plunged into the soggy ground; it’s not like your shoes weren’t meant to get dirty. He picked up a stick and poked at the rivulets of water in front of him, squinting into the glare. “So, how old are you anyway?” He asked. He was crouched down to help the slightly too short stick prod into the mud.

“Seven.” You responded. You had picked up a stick of your own. “How old are you?”

He watched your movements with careful eyes. He was always watching, you noticed. Always planning. It’s like he was trying to predict every movement of the creek, every motion of your arms. You felt a shiver run down your spine. You didn’t think you could ever be so observant. “I’m eight, been eight for five months now,” came his steady voice. He furrowed his eyebrows as you waved your stick into nothingness, jabbing at something he couldn’t see. He gazed at the air like whatever you were so focused on would materialize if he stared hard enough. “What’cha fighting?”

You smiled crookedly. You could see the scene so clearly in your mind. You and him on a pirate ship, fighting off the attackers who were trying to claim your ride. You were balancing on the plank, sword ready. “Pirates. It’s real fun, you should try.” You slashed the air and saw clothes tearing, blood pooling at the wood under your feet. 

“How do I try?” He asked curiously. He stood up fully and held his stick in both hands.

“Just imagine. They’re coming from a ship across the creek, and our ship is here. I’m… I’m fighting the one with a big axe, and the one comin’ after you has a shiny sword.”

Again, he raked his gaze over the creek in front of him like he was trying to see exactly into your mind. He gave his sword an experimental swing, and you laughed from beside him. “You hit him! Keep going, we’ve almost won.” His eyes lit up, and he began fighting like he saw it too. 

He smiled, and you cheered him on, making sure to fend off your own opponent. The creek bubbled, and he could hear the ocean roaring. He could see the flag flying high above his head, the ship across the ocean, could hear the ‘shing’ and ‘swish’ of his sword. And he saw you, warm and full of life, immersed in this world you had created. He didn’t think he had seen anything quite so pretty.

In the days after that, you saw Bobby often. He never went inside your house, though, that was off limits. Instead, you went to his.

His mom was kind. She was the type of woman to greet you with a hug, the smell of warm food simmering on a pot behind her. Her apron was stained with food and love and tiny paint handprints. When you ran up to his door and knocked (you were too short to reach the doorbell), she would open it kindly and invite you in.

Bobby’s room became a kind of utopia for the both of you. For the first few days, you would help him unpack his toys and crafts and other things of the sort. He had a lot of green army men, you noticed. But after that, you played and played until his mom had to kindly remind you of his bedtime. Your favorite games were imaginary.

He would be a merchant selling his toys, each with a special magical power. You’d assume the role of a traveling knight and barter with him, finally picking out what you believed would help with your quest. Then, in a twist of fate, Bobby would invent some sort of way the magical item went wrong, leaving the both of you to dream up new methods to best your foe. Or you’d be a mermaid and he was the sailor you were friends with. Sometimes, and this was his favorite game, he would be a pilot in the military, and you would be the person giving him instructions on the ground. He would shoot his arms out like airplane wings and soar, causing you to collapse into giggles on his soft rug. You formed a bond with him like no other. By the end of the summer, you knew him inside and out, and he knew you too.

You knew he liked blueberry syrup instead of maple on his pancakes, that his favorite subject was history, how he had a little sister three years younger and an older brother who was in middle school, and the exact expression he made when things went a awry; this sort of half-pout, where his bottom lip would jut out a bit. You knew that he got his cast from slipping on a stone in a big river during a camping trip, and even though he hates not being able to move, he thinks the scar on his ankle is pretty cool. And he knew that you were the most creative person he’d ever met, there was a monster that lived in your house, you had never broken a bone, and your eyes shone if the light hit them at the right angle. 

When you finally left, as the sun was dipping down the horizon, you felt lighter.

The days without his presence were much harder.

Your mom was a hard person to pin down. She would leave early in the morning, dressed in her work clothes, and return late at night, stinking of the bar. Sometimes you’d see her periodically throughout the day, between her two main events, but she was elusive. She would stroke your hair during moments like this, eyes filled with something you only later realized was regret. 

You loved her too much to notice that the way you were living was not at all how a child should grow up. You survived off of your dingy little microwave and frozen food when you weren’t with Bobby and his family. The nights, however, were worse than being alone all day.

You would pretend to be asleep more often than not, but you couldn’t really be asleep with how much noise she made. Shouting words you didn’t recognize into the phone, slamming doors, crying, pulling the magnets off the fridge and shattering the few framed pictures that were scattered around your house. It made the pit inside of you grow larger and larger.

Afterwards, when she was done with her rampage, she’d sweep up the pieces and put everything back together. She would spell out notes for you in the fridge magnets. She would open your door, just a crack, and whisper, “I love you, baby. I’m sorry.” with a blown kiss. You knew she was sorry. You knew she loved you, that she kept the cabinets stocked with the snacks you liked from two years ago, around the time she first started drinking. There was nothing you knew more than how bad she felt for treating you like she did. In your mind, you forgave her. She was doing her best. That didn’t stop you from wishing you lived in Bobby’s little house, with his kind and loving mother and stern but kindhearted father. You wished for pirates and pilots and blueberry syrup. 

Sometimes, you just imagined you were there, tucked under his navy blue comforter. That thought filled the pit just enough to let you drift off to sleep.

As the days grew shorter and the weather chillier, school started. School was fun until it wasn’t.

The first day was always the best, in your opinion. You never really had any friends to miss if they were placed into other classrooms, and some of the other kids didn’t even know who you were. It was scary, sure, but it was new. It was a fresh start. This year, though, you had Bobby.

Luckily for the two of you, you were both in Mrs. Moore’s class. Even luckier for you, Brady was not in Mrs. Moore’s class. 

The boy had a tendency to pick on you in school. Ever since first grade, when he caught you whispering to a dandelion, he made every day in school tougher.

He would knock your books out of your hands, scribble on your drawings, and tear your flower crowns apart. You didn’t know why. He just didn’t understand your far-eyed expression and your tendency to bury your nose in books. He was loud, with a grating voice and windswept blond hair, and people liked him. He played sports and shared his lunch. That made him very, very different from you, in a way that was hard for child brains to accept. 

You were scared that Bobby would find his own trouble here. He was quiet, and that made him a target. He was too kind, too caring, too good at blending into the background. 

You walked up to classroom B8, holding your little dirtied backpack on one arm. The door was painted a sort of industrial teal, with a chipped but cheery sun done in acrylics in the middle. The title, a magnet, read “Mrs. Moore fun!”. Bobby hesitated from next to you. He held out a silent hand, and you gripped it in yours. His hands were bigger, warm and slick with a thin sheen of nervous sweat. Knowing someone else was going through the day with you was a quiet comfort, so you met his wavering eyes and smiled. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

The door swung open, and a woman with a brown bob ushered you inside. She had big pencil earrings and a pretty patterned dress. She showed you to your seats, and you were happy to learn that you were just one person away from your friend. In between you was another girl with bouncy auburn curls and freckles, whose name card read “Margaret”. You didn’t know her, but she offered you a kind grin.

“Hello, class!” Mrs. Moore began. “I know you saw my name on the door, but I’d like to learn all of yours today. How about we go around and say our names and favorite colors so I can take attendance?”

Your time in the quaint little classroom sped by like a whirlwind, barely giving you enough time to adjust to everything before you were ushered out to be served lunch and play on the sun-faded playground. Bobby’s mom had packed you both lunch today. It was like she knew that your mom couldn’t, and that you never had the money to buy the school lunch. It gave you this warm sort of emotion, like a fuzzy sweater. You and he sat on a bench shaded by a rickety old tree.

He chewed his sandwich thoughtfully as you went for the little bag of Oreo cookies first. “How do you like it here?” You asked, biting into the crumbly treat.

“It’s okay. Back in my old school, our playground had wood chips instead of sand,” he commented simply. “I like being here with you, though.”

You beamed. Bobby had lived in the town adjacent to yours before he moved, still in Montana, but with a different atmosphere. He often noted the differences, like how the cars here sputtered more and there was never quite enough shade. This, however, was all you had ever known. It was all you ever thought you could know. Your world ended after the big road that cut you off from the rest of society. Bobby made you want to wait for the day you could cross that road, in your own car that hopefully didn’t sputter, and see the world that he had known. “Me too. Most everyone is pretty great here, you’ll see. Just watch out for Brady, the one on the monkey bars. He might try to tease you.”

“Why would he?” Bobby questioned. He studied where you gestured, light eyes straining against the bright sun and wavy heat coming up from the asphalt. 

You started on your sandwich, which was beginning to warm. You didn’t mind. “I dunno. He’s just like that, I guess.”

“He must be mean,” The boy beside you said, finishing off the last bite of his sandwich. He never chewed with his mouth open, you noticed. He kept it neat and tidy. “Anyone who picks on you has got to be.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, so you buried yourself into eating your sandwich. “Thanks. I hope he doesn’t pick on you, ‘cuz you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Bobby’s face turned a shade of red you had never seen on him, and suddenly the hand that was underneath yours was fidgeting against the wood of the bench. “You really think so?”

“I know so. You’re nice, and you let me play with your glasses. And you’re really good at climbing, even with your boot. And you make me feel good.”

The corners of his mouth tugged up impossibly high as he handed you his bag of Oreos. He liked sweets, sure, but he liked giving them to you more. He could sit there and watch you eat forever if it meant you smiled like you were doing now. “You make me feel good too, like I can’t stop being happy.”

“Ex-act-ly!” You punctuated each syllable with a little tap of your finger on the back of his hand. When he was around, you felt like you could fly. Every dandelion, 11:11, shooting star, fallen eyelash, they all went to trying to keep him in your life. Without you knowing, he did the same thing. “Oh, do you want to see what I drew during art time?”

The conversation carried on, although there are snippets you don’t remember. Something about the stray cat that you saw down at the creek and the field trip the older kids bragged about going on. Looking back on it, that era seems so far away that it could have been another life. You were so small then, so hurt, and so innocent. You just had your neighbor and dreams, both waking and asleep.

School continued, and you and Bobby began to fall into a sort of rhythm. You would pass notes to each other through Margaret, play hopscotch and four-square and wall ball until you were tired of running around, learn until you thought your brains would explode, and walk home, laughing and bright-eyed. Even Brady couldn’t dull the shine. Bobby was, surprisingly, a hard person to make fun of. Despite being quiet, he would puff up his chest and stand strong in the face of any adversity. Mostly, though, he stood up for you. He would pick up your books, help you turn scribbles into twisting dragons, and make you new flower crowns when Brady tried anything during recess. Bobby cared. In a sense, though neither of you knew what the word really meant, he loved you. So he took care of you, and you filled his life with so much wonder and joy that he wished he could be with you forever. It was like that for a long, long time. 

The years came and went in elementary school. For once, you accepted every day that came to you as a new era, a new chance to prove to yourself that life is more than crumbling foundations. You experienced growth; you no longer waited for things to be over. Instead, incredibly, you anticipated each coming event, no matter what it was.

It took you a while to realize that Bobby was the catalyst of your change.

Your 5th grade promotion was a blur of smiles and hugs and tears from Bobby’s mom, coral colored fabric, and paper confetti. You posed for pictures, sang a song, and received a little certificate to display in some homegoods frame that most mothers buy. Other than that, it was just another day. You went home and played with Bobby some more, like you always did. 

That certificate, crumpled and browned around the edges, is now sitting in a box, deep in your closet, paper-clipped to a photograph of you and Bobby. It rests against a snapped wishbone, one whose exact wish you have entirely forgotten, but it more than likely had to do with him. There is also a crushed penny, a number of birthday cards, and a wooden rose, among other things. It’s silly, you think, to keep them after so many years, but something in you begs to keep them safe. You suppose that you can’t be rid of every memory, not when the Floyds made so many good ones for you. 

Middle school was another stage in your life, one that swirled your emotions while all you needed was stability. It wasn’t bad, per se, but it was the beginning of years of confusing feelings.

Bobby stopped being Bobby during the 1,095 days between elementary and high school. He wanted to be called Robert, and he combed his hair back, and his voice started cracking. He listened to rock and metal instead of whatever his mom found on the radio. He didn’t turn into a bad person like some of his peers, no, but he changed. You remember the first time he put in contacts instead of his big, thick-rimmed glasses.

You were sitting on the edge of his sink as he pulled his eye wide open, his fingers trembling slightly. “I can’t do it. I don’t want to poke my eye out,” he whined, setting the finger that held the contact down. “But I don’t want to wear glasses, either. I’m too old for that.”

He stared at you while you let out a short, stifled laugh. “Don’t laugh, I’m trying my best,” he groaned, but his mouth was curving into a smile, too—it just always happened when you laughed, like how he couldn’t help but smile at wedding bells. 

“Can you even see what you’re doing?” You asked. You tapped the glass reflection to the side of you, sending out a soft clink. His vision had never been the best, but his optometrist just upped his prescription. He didn’t want to be seen with the thickness of the glass he was given, no, he wanted to “look cooler”. So there he was, with blurry vision and a nearly invisible contact balancing on the tip of his finger. 

“Yeah.” He paused, considering his options, before looking down with a sigh. “No. I can see the blue, but I have no clue if my eyes are two inches or two millimeters away.” He sounded so disappointed that it sent a twinge of hurt through your heart. He liked dealing with problems on his own, namely so that no one else would have to go out of their way to help him, so that must have been a humbling experience for him.

“Let me guide you, then,” you chirped. “I’ll use your hand to put the contacts in so you can get a feel for where to stop next time.” You let the tips of your fingers brush over his hand, ghosting over the raised hairs just enough to let him sense it. Robert squinted at you.

You seemed like an angel perched on the tile counter. He couldn’t see the exactness of your details, like the curves of your lips, but you had a form that he could recognize anywhere. The shade of your hair, the sparkle in your eye. He would carry those memories for as long as he lived. What worried him was that he didn’t know exactly how far away from him you were sitting. So, because he didn’t trust himself to not miss his eyes, and because he trusted you like he trusted his heart to beat, he agreed. “Okay.”

You took his hand in yours, careful not to knock the precariously balanced contact off, and he widened his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was because of your touch or because he wanted to assist with the contact placement. You slowly brought his hand up, towards his eye, feeling his pulse under your fingers. His lips were pursed, a testament to his nervousness. He never did like things touching his eyes, but he would brave it until he unavoidably went back to glasses. With a gentle, caring motion, you helped him rest the contact on his eyeball. He flinched at the initial touch, but accepted it, blinking rapidly to shake off the contact solution. His eyes were pretty, you noticed. As messed up as they were, they had the most intoxicating shade, like a stormy ocean. 

“Want the next one?” You were already unscrewing the contact holder as he nodded slowly. He closed the eye without a contact and gaped at you.

“I can see!”

“I think that’s what contacts are for,” you quipped. He pretended to roll his one eye, but you could see the humor bubbling up from within him. The lighting was nice, he thought. The way it shone around the edges of your hair was heavenly.

“Well, yeah. Could you help me with the other now?” He probably didn’t need much help this time, given that one half of him had 20/20 vision, but he liked feeling your hand on his. He liked being helped by you. It was a revelation for him, who had always been a bit of an independent spirit. Don’t get him wrong, he liked being around people, and as a kid he would clutch at his mother’s dresses, but he preferred to do certain things on his own. You changed that.

“Definitely.”

Things took a slight turn after that. School became harder, more work and less play. Your middle school was bigger than your previous school, so it came to no surprise to you that Robert made his own friends. Namely, he hung out with a tall, dark, curly-haired boy named Aaron and a shorter, sturdier, pale as snow boy named Samuel. They were alright, in your opinion. You liked Aaron much more. Sam became bossy and annoying when you let him ramble for too long, and though both Robert and Aaron were too polite to say, it annoyed them. It’s Aaron that you still talk to now, while Sam moved to upstate New York during your freshman year of high school.

The boys were not the most popular group in school, though you knew you weren’t either. But, to your surprise, your good friend Margaret was.

You didn’t really expect to become friends with her. She was loud, happy, excitable. She was always polite in elementary, but she truly took you under her wing as Robert started spending more time with his group. She introduced you to Sarah, Charlotte, Elizabeth, anyone that you could even remember the names of. And, along with her constant joviality, she wasn’t a bad friend.

The only problem was that she was deeply in love with Robert Floyd. 

“You don’t even get it ‘cuz he’s like your brother at this point, but he’s gorgeous. He’s basically perfectly my type,” she sighed, falling back onto her plush pink bed. Her legs kicked up just a little, and her curls fanned out around her head like a halo. “I want to ask him out soooo bad. Do you think he’d like me? Wait, do you know if he’s a good kisser? That’s important, I think.” You threw the pillow you were holding on top of her face, and her laugh rang out like the chime of a bell. She was perfect. She deserved someone like Robert, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You didn’t know why it hurt at the time. Just the idea of him dating someone else, holding hands with someone else, loving someone else, made you sick. You chalked it up to being jealous that eventually another person would take up your best friend’s heart. It was only much, much later that you realized you were in love with him, too.

Margaret tossed the pillow to the other side of her bed. “Really, you need to tell me.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile. “He'd like you, Margie. I mean, who wouldn’t?” Her smile was genuine. It hurt you to say, but you weren’t lying. You didn’t think you could ever lie about something like that.

“But is he a good kisser? Please, I need to know, I’m dying!” She prodded. You rolled your eyes, glancing up at the perfectly painted ceiling. Like everything about her, it was pristine.

“No idea. He’s never kissed anyone.” He could be good, maybe. Everything he did was soft and methodical, so just the idea of him capturing a person’s lips with his own, his calloused hand resting on the back of their head… no, you couldn’t think about it. Your eyes snapped to attention.

“I’ll have to change that.” Her tone was sing-songy, and to you, it sounded almost mocking. It couldn’t be, because neither of you knew your actual feelings, but it struck you the wrong way.

“I’m sure you will.”

Margaret tried everything to get closer to Robert. She flirted, she downloaded songs from his favorite bands, she begged and pleaded for you to invite him to every outing the two of you planned, and she talked to him constantly to try and worm her way into his heart. She never knew him like you did, though, and she hated it. 

When it was just you and him, things were different. You were the only one he let call him “Bobby” and play with his fingers when you were nervous. He even let you ruffle his hair, despite him spending half an hour in his bathroom trying to get each strand to lay perfectly. He would open his closet and pull out his comic collection without a hint of embarrassment, and you and he read them together underneath a blanket tent in the middle of the night—after his parents started letting you sleep over, of course. They gave you both “the talk” before you spent your first night there, and Robert was rolling his eyes and blushing the whole time. He would never do that with you, he assured them. You were just friends.

Friends who ultimately ended up falling asleep on the same bed, paying no attention to the blow-up mattress on the floor of his room.

In any case, you tried to get Robert and Margaret together. The time you tried the hardest was the start of your seventh grade year, when Margie insisted that she needed a boyfriend before Christmas. You, being a good friend, invited them both to go to the mall a short drive away from your houses. 

Margie’s mom drove, because she was always up for helping her daughter with her romantic interests. She knew about Robert, sending you and her daughter knowing smiles whenever he would politely answer Margie’s rapid-fire questions. You felt a little bad for the boy, who wasn’t used to so much attention.

The little car (too little, in your opinion; Margaret took the middle seat and was pressed against Bobby for the whole ride) finally arrived at the mall after a few minutes of slight awkwardness. You all stepped out, and Margie’s mom kissed her on the forehead and said she would be back in two hours on the minute. Two hours was a lot at that time. 

Your friend immediately pointed out a clothing store, pulling you along to look at flouncy dresses and colorful tops. You could tell that it made Robert a bit uncomfortable, but he went in anyway. During your usual mall trips with him, the both of you made a beeline for the comic store, or simply shared some pretzels while walking and talking. It was only rarely that you wandered into the clothing stores, and most of the time, you just looked and walked back out. You never had the money on you to buy anything more than a volume or two of a comic. “These shorts are just perfect, don’t you think?” She asked you, but her eyes were staring pointedly at Robert.

“They’re nice,” you said. He nodded in silent agreement, slipping his hand into the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t ever really have an opinion on clothes. Someone could wear the most awful outfit and he’d shrug, offering the notion that people should wear what they want, while Sam laughed at the silly combination. Margie tore through the rest of the store, giving you hanger upon hanger of clothing to hold while she rifled through the racks. Robert trailed behind. 

Just as the weight of the tops you were holding on your left arm accumulated into a painful soreness, you spotted something out of the corner of your eye. It was a dress.

Robert silently grabbed the clothes from you, following your line of sight. The dress was as close to perfect as a dress had ever been to you. The color, some variation of your favorite, complemented the tone of your skin perfectly when you held your arm up to it. The cut, the stitching, the little details sewn on—it was gorgeous. As you reached out to touch it, Margie squealed.

“That dress! I need it, grab it for me, would you?”

 You hesitated. It was the only one like it on the rack. Instinctively, you glanced back at Robert, and he had this confusing expression on his face that you had only seen once or twice; furrowed brows, tight lips, and a burning in his eyes. You looked away and took the dress down.

You probably wouldn’t be able to afford it. Checking the tag, you were right: thirty-eight dollars. Even after doing yard work and tutoring the little boy down the street, you hadn’t been able to keep that sort of sum. “Thanks,” she purred, “I’m gonna try everything on now. Wanna watch the fashion show?”

A part of you didn’t. You were envious, glowing green at the amount of things she could pick up without even checking the tag, but as a good, people-pleasing friend, you pushed it aside. So, you followed her past the door of the spacious dressing room while Robert waited outside with the clothes that didn’t fit into the ten item dressing room limit. 

She looked stunning in every outfit, but she threw most of the pieces off with a frustrated sigh. The waist wasn’t cinched enough, or the color clashed with her hair, or the pant legs were too short to cascade over the top of her shoes like she wanted. If you had the money, you didn’t think you would care. 

Then came time for the dress. It was one of the last things that she tried on, and she slipped it back over her head almost immediately after putting it on. “It just doesn’t work for my figure,” she muttered. 

You picked it off the floor gingerly, holding it up to yourself in the mirror. “Can I try it on?” You asked. She lit up with surprise, a happy glint dancing in her grin. 

“Of course! Go ahead.”

You undressed in the corner and stepped into the dress. Margie helped you smooth it out and fasten it just right, her fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades. When you looked in the mirror, your jaw almost fell open. 

It hugged you perfectly, the length stopping just where you assumed it was meant to stop. It was casual enough to be worn normally, but it had that fancy touch that made it suited for a romantic dinner date or uppity party. You almost looked like royalty. You could just imagine it, waving to crowds with a slow hand from a horse-drawn carriage. Bobby would be beside you, as always, and Margie and Aaron in the carriage behind you. Sam would be dealing with the horses. 

You were shaken out of your thoughts by a faint knock on the door. “Hey, are you guys ready? There’s a bit of a line out here,” came Robert’s voice. Margie was dressed by that point, so you opened the door, still clad in the dress.

“I just gotta change out of this and then we’ll be ready.” You gave a small twirl, and Robert choked on air. “It’s too expensive, but it’s nice to dream,” you said with a small grin. You didn’t know if it reached your eyes or not, but you knew the boy wouldn’t call you out for it. Not in public, at least.

You looked beautiful. That’s all that he could see, all that he could fathom. You slipped back into the dressing room, and he was left stunned. 

Before anything else, though, you looked happy in the dress. Sad that you had to leave it, but it made you happy. Robert was nothing if not a sucker for seeing you happy.

Your group finally checked out after a few minutes of the cashier ringing up Margie’s clothes. It was nearing the end of your mall trip, but you managed to visit the comic store and pick up a bite to eat along the way. At some point, while you were flipping through a comic book, Robert slipped away and returned with a grocery bag. It was something his mom wanted him to pick up, he said, and you didn’t feel the need to question him. You just mumbled a conversation starter into Margie’s ear and slipped away as she excitedly whipped around to relay it to him.

She never did win him over. She tried and tried, and you helped and helped, but it seemed he didn’t have an eye for her. 

Everything came to a sort of explosion near Christmas. The ground was powdered with a thick blanket of snow, the trees were bare, save for dripping ice, and houses put out beautiful, twinkling lights. There were even singing decorations from your neighbor to the left. When you breathed, the air would puff out in gentle clouds. It was, in essence, a perfect, picturesque winter. It was also one of your favorite times of the year.

Your mom always made an effort during the winter months. She came home earlier to hide in the bathroom, trying to muffle the sounds of wrapping paper and scissors. In the morning, you would see the fruits of her labor tucked under your little plastic tree. It wasn’t perfect, but she wanted you to experience some sort of joyful Montana holiday. You also spent more time indoors, snickering with Robert in the library or blowing on sweet hot cocoa by his crackling fire. It was times like these that you really felt at home.

His family knew about your situation. They didn’t make your mom feel like a villain, no, but they knew she was struggling, and they did their very best to help you out. That’s why you were bundled up on their couch on one frigid day, when Robert came home with a pinched frown.

He wasn’t mad, exactly. You had never known him to be mad. But he was uncomfortable in a way that made you want to throw your blanket over him and make him whisper his troubles to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked. He wasn’t surprised to see you in his home—he never was. He sat down next to you with a heavy sigh.

“Margaret asked if I wanted to date her,” he murmured, throwing his head back against the couch cushions. This piqued your interest. You knew something like this would happen eventually, but you didn’t expect him to be so uneasy about it. Margie had been talking about asking him out for ages, and you just smiled and nodded. Her bright, bubbly personality was a large contrast to his, but you figured that opposites attracted. He had never shown a hint of distaste at being around her. No distaste that you had seen, at least.

You looked at him, confusion creasing your face. “What did you say?” Maybe it was just the wrong time. If he were to crush on anyone, it would be her, not that he had ever talked about his crushes to you. That seemed like something he would only tell Aaron, despite you being his closest friend.

“I said no. I just… I don’t like her like that.” His voice came out as an almost groan as he rubbed at his eyes. He turned his head to rest it on your shoulder. The weight sent a heavy warmth through you, but you were still so bewildered that it hardly even registered.

“I thought you would. Did she do something wrong?”

He shook his head, looking up at you, and then back down at the fire blazing away in his fireplace. Slowly, he wrapped your blanket around himself, as well, sharing your heat to ward off the cold. “No, she’s nice, but I don’t feel that way about her.” You still didn’t get it. If you were him, you would jump at the chance to date her. She was pretty, funny, and her family was well off. However, something in you uttered that it takes more than that to make someone love you. And that something was a bit happy, because Robert rejecting Margie meant that you could have him all to yourself again. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “Do you feel that way about anyone else?”

That question breached the sanctity of your relationship in a way. You had never asked him about his love life, and he had never asked about yours. It was unspoken. You knew, deep in your heart, that if he asked you, you wouldn’t be able to say anyone’s name but his. 

His face was tinged with red. It was hard to see, but you knew it was there. “I dunno.”

You lapsed into a subdued silence, not knowing whether to press forward or not. You decided on the latter, just listening to the near-silent spitting of the fireplace. You knew that Margie wouldn’t be happy, and you would get an earful over the phone that night, but you knew that, like all things, this would pass.

Bobby would be your closest confidant for another Christmas.

You were right when you assumed that Margie wouldn’t take it well. You spent night after night listening to her laments, rubbing a soothing pattern on her back as she cried. You didn’t even know if she was upset that Robert didn’t like her or if she was upset that she got rejected, but you gave her a listening ear no matter what. The calls and in-person interactions only ceased when she went to spend the week of Christmas with her family in Utah.

You, naturally, spent most of your time with Robert. For the entirety of winter break, it was just you and him, which was something that hadn’t happened since elementary school. It gave you a chance to think about things—your feelings in particular.

You slowly realized that you didn’t want to just be his friend. You didn’t know it was love, not yet at least, but your heart beat faster when he was around, and you felt the need to keep him around for as long as possible. It was something further than platonic. A crush, maybe, that was only furthered by the events of Christmas day. 

You spent the rare morning with your mother, who had been given a single day off by her boss. It was odd to have her around to make breakfast, not smelling of the bar, and humming around a piece of toast. “It’s almost ready, honey. Why don’t you start on the presents while we wait?” Her voice was only slightly muffled by her food. You nodded silently and pulled out one of the three little gifts wrapped up under the tree. Two from her to you, and one from you to her. It didn’t disappoint you to not receive the dozens of wrapped boxes that your friends did; from a young age, you had realized that any gift at all was precious. You slipped your fingers beneath the wrapping paper and pulled the taped folds away gently, careful not to rip them. 

As you unfolded the creases, the box underneath revealed itself to you. It was a shoebox, and within were a pair of shoes that you had been eyeing for a while now. Your face lit up with surprise. She had really remembered? “Thank you, mom.” You grinned. She laughed, turning the heat off from under the scrambled eggs she was tending to. 

“I’m not a bad gift giver, hm?” she hummed, sitting down next to you. You pushed the gift that you wrapped for her into her grasp, and she looked down at it with a guilty expression. “I didn’t notice you got anything for me, sweet thing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be the type of mom that doesn’t deserve a Christmas gift.”

You took her hands off of the present and wrapped them around your shoulders, her normally cold fingers giving off a soft heat. “You aren’t. You do your best, mama, and I love you all the same.” You couldn’t bring yourself to be mean to her when she had spent an important part of her paycheck on you. It was true, that she did all she could think to do, but some part of you wanted her to be better. You still hoped that she could pull herself together and make breakfast for you every day, so you wouldn’t have to microwave pizza pockets or slump over to Robert’s house for a bite to eat. But you were her child, not Georgia Floyd’s, and hoping and wishing couldn’t change that. You had come to terms with it when you saw her watery eyes undoing your sloppy wrapping.

It was a jewelry tree that she said she wanted nearly five months ago. It was expensive, sapping your meager funds, but you knew it would make her happy. 

Your mother was one for jewelry and pleasantries, when pleasantries were made to be found. You figured that she liked to feel fancy, with glass diamonds and greening gold. It was the best gift you could think to give her.

She looked up at you as tears began to stream down her face. She wiped them away hastily. “Thanks, baby. I appreciate you more than you know, more than I could ever tell you.”

Your next gift was a book you had wanted for a while but could never seem to find at the library. You thanked her profusely, and spent the next half hour eating with her and talking. Like normal families do. Normal families with normal moms. You could almost picture a man, your father, coming in from the cold outside with the mail in his hands. A roaring fire, a sibling, a pet. Maybe a beagle like Bobby had. But the illusion was shattered when she pulled herself up and wrapped her scarf around her neck, muttering apologetically about having to pick up a Christmas shift after all as she hugged you close. You needed the money, she said. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

Nearly as soon as she left, there was a quiet knock on your door. You opened it slowly, not excited about hearing from the Jehovah’s Witness that frequented your neighborhood. Instead of him was Robert. And he was carrying a gift bag.

“Hi,” he blurted, “this is for you. Merry Christmas.” He handed you the bag, careful not to put his foot through the threshold of your house. You opened the door wider, a pleasant grin spreading onto your face. 

“Come in, I have something for you too.”

He hesitated. He had never been inside your house before. You had never explicitly told him he wasn’t allowed, but you usually had some excuse as to why he couldn’t stay over. Over the years, he had learned to just stop looking past the barely cracked-open door and pull you away to his place instead. But, with your insistence, he breached the unknown.

Your house wasn’t as furnished or comfortable as his, but it didn’t really matter. There were two brooms laid against the kitchen wall and a dustpan between them, and your small couch had a tear on the seam. The cabinets didn’t exactly close right, and your faucet leaked. Other than that, it was a normal house. He marveled at a picture of you and your mom stuck to the fridge with a magnet, with the edges folded over like it used to be in a frame. You let him wander for a minute or two before pulling him into your bedroom.

It was completely and utterly you. Books, comics, and little craft projects filled much of the shelf next to your bed, and the sheets were messily crumpled on your mattress. You had a little closet and a mirror that rested against it, slightly smudged with fingerprints. There was even a poster from some movie you liked hung above your headboard. You opened your closet and pulled a small wrapped parcel out from the depths. 

You handed it to him with a shy look. “I hope you like it.”

As he took the gift from you, he could feel a significant heft to the package. “I’d like anything if it was from you. It’s the thought that counts, right?” He sat on the edge of your bed as you nodded slowly. You were still a little worried that he wouldn’t be happy, but you knew him. He would thank you profusely if you had wrapped him a lump of coal. He might have even displayed it proudly on his shelf. The thought was enough to have you stifling a laugh. “You should open yours first.”

You obliged, pulling out the tissue paper delicately. Your fingers closed in around something soft, like fabric. Through the gaps of your hands, you could see your favorite color. Your heart leaped out of your chest. “Is this…?”

Bobby nodded, beaming. You took the article of clothing out fully and almost cried at the sight.

It was the dress you had wanted at the mall. The one that had fit you perfectly, and the one that Margie had almost taken from you. You hugged it to your chest. “Thank you, Bobby, thank you. I love it so much.” Your voice was quiet, brimming with emotion. He just opened his arms, and you dove into them, the both of you uncaring of the tear marks that would form on his thick jacket. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You exclaimed, louder this time, but still muffled by his chest. He just laughed and pulled you in closer.

“You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome.”

That meant more to you than anything else could have. Not only did he notice what you liked, he bought it when you couldn’t. It was more than just a gift. 

Robert would’ve given up his entire stash of money, carefully tucked away in his dresser drawer, to make you react like that. It was no contest.

He opened his gift next and had to scrub the wetness away from his own eyes. It was a model plane; more specifically, a version of the Super Hornet. The plane he had heard about entering service years ago, and the plane that he dreamed of flying. He ran his hands along the wings in wonder. “It’s perfect.” He choked out. “Thank you. I’m gonna put it on my shelf as soon as I get home.” You knew he would say something like that, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling good.

He stayed for a bit, after that, talking to you about anything and everything, as you usually do. It was nice to see him lying on your bed, staring up at your ceiling. And it was nice to have this sort of alone time with him. When he reached up to pick a piece of fuzz off of your shirt, you almost melted in place. You never thought your heart could beat that fast.

After he left, you felt your joy walk out the door behind him. All you could think was that you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

You never had to wait long.

The rest of middle school went by fairly quickly, as did Margaret’s sadness. She got over her affections before moving on to the next poor sap, dragging you along with her. After eighth grade, she would always mention how nice Aaron looked in his church clothes and how pretty his eyes were. Not having to worry about someone taking Bobby away from you was just another weight off of your shoulders. You also grew a lot during that time, physically and mentally. You were taller, happier, bigger, stronger. It was in part due to Rob, as he liked to be called sometime during your freshman year, and in part due to your mother finally going to rehab.

You didn’t know it was rehab. You didn’t know much at that age, not of yourself or other people, so it was just one more thing to add to the list. She just told you that you would have to stay at Rob’s for a few months, and they accepted your presence with kindness. His mom seemed to look at you sadly during that time. You chose to ignore it, focusing on how grateful you were to have a home while your mother was away. 

High school was better. Much better, in your opinion. You felt like things were finally coming together.

You had a small, quaint, stable friend group, consisting of you, Margaret, Rob, and Aaron. They were fun. You didn’t think you could enjoy going to football games or pep rallies until they were there with you, cheering and joyful. Even studying was full of inside jokes and nudging each other with your elbows until the flashcards were forgotten and the air was thick with laughter. You started to enjoy your classes, too, because you had a clearer goal in your mind. You were going to apply to your city’s college and room with Margie, considering you both got in. So you threw yourself into school with full force, hoping that your future would be just as great.

Rob wasn’t planning on going to your college. He hadn’t told you, not yet, but he was applying to the Naval Academy. He was finally going to achieve his dreams, even if he felt endless guilt about leaving you to be on your own. He didn’t want to lose you, but the temptation of the sky drew him in until he couldn’t escape the magnetizing force.

The first year was, other than a few football games and watching Margie perform in the school play, relatively uneventful. 

Dungeons and Dragons began to reign supreme as your group’s favorite pastime, although Margaret didn’t quite understand the story that Aaron concocted. To her credit, she tried. She played an elvish ranger with long flowing hair and a past of tortured princesshood, while you decided on a sweet halfling druid, and Rob a powerful human wizard. Nothing was more fun than losing yourself entirely to the tale, drawn in by Aaron’s dark voice impressions and the little figures that danced across the map he drew. It was a more grown-up form of playing pretend, and you were entranced by every second of every session.

By the time your mother returned home, fidgety yet quiet, you had established a nice sort of life. You moved back to your house, bittersweetly thanking Rob’s family for taking you in, and you spent the rest of the school year and the summer that followed with her. 

She was different. She wasn’t like she was prior to the drinking or during the drinking, but  a new person entirely, like she shed every part of herself and started fresh. She slept in, but got ready for work as you were walking out the door. She cooked, but with a tremor in her hand that was never present before. There were no more midnight rampages, but you got the feeling that she didn’t fall into her bed until very late hours. It was odd, at best, but like always, she did what she could with what she had. You continued to support her every step of the way.

Starting your sophomore year was less exciting than transitioning to a whole new school, and the nerves that had preceded every other year had faded into the background. You were more sure of yourself. Still naive, but there was some confidence in your step. The classes were tough, but you were tougher. Of course, the people who picked on you in the past were still jerks, but it was nothing you weren’t already used to. 

You finished the year with a smile on your face and a finger linked with each of your friends. 

Summer was the same as it always was. Fun, lazy, anything you wanted to make of it. You and the rest of the group frequented the lake closest to Aaron’s house, as his older brother was no stranger to driving you around in the car he had fixed up the summer previous. It was during one of those trips that you discovered quite a few things about the people around you.

Margaret was splashing around in the lake, completely unfazed by the freezing water. Well, she was fazed at the beginning, but she quickly adapted. “Come in, it’s so nice!” she called, flicking a drop of water towards you. You blocked it with the edge of your towel, not keen on getting your book wet.

“Later, I’m still reading,” you grumbled. Rob was perched behind you, reading over your shoulder as the pages flipped. You had just returned from the water and were trying to wait out the little kids that were flailing around in the shallows. 

She made a face until she spotted that Aaron was also out of the water. Shrugging, she stepped closer to the shore, and tugged on his arm. That action sent him stumbling into the lapping waves, to her delight. 

He let out an indistinct shout before resigning himself to being wet once again. “Warn me next time, geez! I could’ve died,” he moaned, pushing a wave of water straight into Margie’s face. She just laughed in delight. 

You ignored the two as you worked on your book, delving further into the story of a girl on a mountain, traversing through the thick forest in an attempt to wake her comatose father. Rob read right along with you, keeping your pace perfectly. You never needed to ask him when he wanted you to turn the pages—it was like your eyes read at the same speed, your brains processing the same things. Among other things, that was convenient. 

The air began to grow colder as you began the second-to-last chapter, the sun casting longer and longer shadows. It wasn’t evening quite yet, but the blazing afternoon sun had softened. You looked up with a start. It had clearly been a couple hours, but where were the other two members of your group?

You turned around to face Rob. “Have you seen Aaron and Margie recently?”

He quickly scanned the area with a slight look of panic sewn into his features. The lake was empty, the shore was clear of visitors, and even the sky was barren. “No, but we really need to find them before Marcus comes back with the car.” They were simply gone. “Here, why don’t you stay with our stuff and I’ll go look?” he suggested, standing to wipe the gravel off his shorts. 

“I don’t want to split up.” You were wary of the quiet, unsure if something would come out of the land around you and take you, too. “We can hide the bags in that dry spot under the dock and come back for them later.”

He just nodded in agreement, taking the larger share of your things and helping you conceal them within the rocks and overgrown water weeds. The two of you then set off to find your friends, calling their names into the sound of sloshing water and twittering birds. 

It was almost twenty minutes later when you began to hear someone sniffling and a distinctly feminine voice trying to calm them down. Margie and Aaron. You and Rob looked at each other, then swiftly moved towards them.

Aaron was crouched down in the middle of a little clearing, his head in his hands. Margie was sitting and whispering to him, something you couldn’t quite make out. You had never heard her whisper before. It didn’t matter, though, because they quickly spotted you.

“Guys, I’m not sure it’s a good-”

“No, it’s okay.” Aaron cut Margaret off. “They can hear it.”

You dropped to your knees to get on their level, Rob quickly following suit. “What happened?” you asked, gently reaching out to brush Aaron’s hand. His face was slick with tears, his normally neat hair lopsided like he had tried to run his fingers through the thick coils. 

He hesitated, slightly, but Margie patted him encouragingly. “Margie told me how she felt.”

Okay, another confession within the friend group. That wouldn’t explain the running away or the crying, at least not him crying, so what else? Rob spoke up, voice restrained. “How did that make you feel?”

“Bad,” he muttered, looking up at the girl with guilt in his brown eyes. “Not because I don’t like her, but because I can’t.” His voice trailed off into muffled sobs once again as he sunk into Margie’s arms.

Oh. You exchanged glances with Rob.

That wasn’t exactly news to you, but you had never been able to voice your suspicions out loud. It just made sense. Margie liked Aaron, and Aaron didn’t like girls. He didn’t even have to explain fully, you and Rob just hugged his shaking form. 

There was a very hushed, heartfelt talk after that. The fact of the matter was, you and your friends loved Aaron, and that was just a new fact about him for you to love. It also surprised you a little.

You knew you would be okay with it, but Rob and Margie grew up with you. They knew your area and the opinions that floated around. You never expected them to be hateful, no, but putting aside the thoughts that were so instilled in your hometown would be difficult for anyone lesser than them. It showed you that your friends wouldn’t dream of hurting the people around them, the people they loved.

When anyone, you included, presented the group with a new side of them, they were accepted with open arms. 

Junior year was tougher than the previous. Your rocks remained by your side, but certain people pulled at the strings binding your sanity like a child with a ball of yarn. One of those people ended up being Brady, who after a couple years of a mild hiatus, began making fun of you more than ever.

He was in all the same rigorous classes as you and your friends, leading him to be able to torture you during lessons. In addition to that, his last name was similar enough to yours for him to be placed behind you in most of those classes.

The vast majority of the torture involved stealing your belongings, throwing things at the back of your head, making fun of your looks, hobbies, anything, and passing you notes that read like a stupid teenage boy’s jeers. Sexual innuendos, frankly abhorrent pick up lines, and gross questions crumpled under your fist almost every day. 

You tried to tell the teachers, the principal, anyone that would listen, but they all said the same thing: boys will be boys. Brady was too good of a student and too important of an athlete to punish. Hell, the most he got for cutting off a section of your hair was a verbal warning. Every day, you and your friends got closer and closer to punching him in the face. None of them liked him, for good reason, but even their protection couldn’t fully stop him. Everything exploded in the spring, right before your junior prom.

You sat at your desk during your English lecture, desperately trying to pay attention to your teacher who was droning on and on about The Great Gatsby. You shifted your leg a bit, just enough to feel a piece of paper pressing into the underside of your thigh. You pulled it out, confused. 

It was a thick, decorated section of stationery with a few words scrawled on it in cursive. It read, “Meet me by the gym after school,” signed by someone who called themselves your secret admirer. You looked down at the prose. It didn’t look like Brady’s handwriting, something you were quite sure of. But who else would’ve written it? You tucked it in your pocket, not wanting to decide whether or not to go right then and there.

You did end up going, which was your biggest mistake. You sat on the edge of a planter near the entrance of the gym, picking at the seam of your shirt. It wasn’t long before everyone who had gym class last period filed out of the school, leaving you utterly alone. It also wasn’t long before Brady appeared, walking towards you like he was on a mission. 

You stood up, poised to leave if he did anything other than walk right on by. Unfortunately for you, he held up a hand as if to tell you to wait. “Hey,” he grinned, “you got my note?”

You paused. “Your note?” You didn’t think he even knew how to write in cursive, much less make it as neat as it was on the stationary. You wouldn’t be surprised if he paid one of the artsy girls to write it for him.

“Yeah.” He stared down at you. There was a gleam in his eye that you didn’t like. “I wanted to ask you to prom.”

Prom? He wanted to ask you to prom? You were baffled. There were a million better fitting people at his disposal, ones that didn’t hate him with a passion. He had made your life hell that year, and multiple years previous to that. You almost scoffed at his words.

“Well, I would rather you didn’t.” You said. You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist in a vice-like grip. His eerily green eyes burned holes into yours. 

“What, you’re just going to leave? After leading me on for so many years, playing hard to get?”

You were stunned. You weren’t aware you were playing anything. Everything he did just seemed mean, and you responded to it like any victim of bullying would. You just balked, uttering a quiet “huh?” when he wouldn’t let go. Try as you might, you couldn’t break his grip as he ranted about you being so obviously into him. He even tried to pull you closer, until two familiar hands grabbed his arm and shoved him back.

It was Rob, and he was furious. “What the fuck? Leave her alone,” he snapped, forcing himself into the gap between you and Brady. You rarely heard him curse, and you had never seen him as mad as that. Brady just rolled his eyes with a psychotic little laugh.

“Oh my god, did you think I was actually into your little girlfriend? Shove off, dude. I was joking. Who in their right mind would want that thing hanging off them in public?” he scoffed. You couldn’t tell if he was serious about anything right then. He was contradicting himself constantly. If the prom thing was a joke, was he just making fun of you again? Or if the prom thing was serious, was he deflecting? Your mind was reeling, and you just wanted to sit down and get your head straight. The place where Brady had grabbed you was pulsing, sure to form a bruise during the night.

Rob said something you didn’t remember before he put a protective hand on your shoulder and ushered you away. All you could hear was laughter, Brady’s and a couple other boys’. You didn’t even see the other boys arrive, and if they were there the whole time, you weren’t aware. The whole walk of shame just felt like a fever dream, with you fading in and out of reality until Rob sat you down on the edge of his mattress. You couldn’t even tell how you got there. Rob tilted your face towards him, concerned, and you realized you were crying.

“Don’t let him get to you.” His voice was soothing, like he was speaking to a scared puppy. “He was just being an asshole.” 

“Did you hear everything?” You sounded pathetic, but you didn’t care.

Rob shook his head. “When I came over, he was in the middle of some spiel. I was just on my way to lacrosse practice before I saw you.” Ah, yes, he was in lacrosse. And he was usually early. The things you remembered after dissociating continued to surprise you. He wiped the tears off your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

He hated seeing you like that. Brady didn’t deserve to make you cry. No one did, not even yourself. He wanted to pull you under his covers and let you sigh into his shirt, like always. He wanted you to forget about everything and just hold on to him.

You wrung your hands in your lap, trying desperately to process everything. The situation was just so… bizarre. You didn’t know what to believe, but at the end of the day, you figured it didn’t matter. Brady will be Brady. Out of nowhere, you started to laugh. Rob’s eyes widened, but he cracked a smile too.

You devolved into cackles on his bed, with him doubled over next to you. Hysterics, some might say. But it was all you could think to do at the time, all your tired mind could handle at the moment. Of course, you talked about it after, but the laughter was the key to getting you through the situation. 

You had waited all your life for a big confession of love, and your “first one” went to shit immediately. Luckily, like always, Rob was there to pick up the pieces. 

Prom came and went without another word from Brady. Instead of going to the dance, however, you and your friends spent the night at a diner. The place had a playplace definitely designed and designated for little kids, but that didn’t stop you from climbing up the sides and playing a good old game of tag. You were winded by the end, a cramp crawling its way down your side, but it was more fun than sitting around a bowl of punch would be. The dances were never your thing, anyway. 

Both Margie and Aaron had a curfew as the night marched towards 10:00, but you decided to go back to Rob’s house for a movie or two. He could drive, and it was the most amazing excuse for him to ferry everyone everywhere. He never minded. So you got in his car, and he let you choose the music, and you talked the whole way home. 

As you finally arrived, your voices fell to hushed whispers. His family was more than likely asleep—save for his brother, who was spending his first year in college on campus. Rob locked the door and fumbled for the TV remote in the near-darkness as you thumbed through his DVD collection.

There wasn’t much selection. His family encouraged spending time with each other instead of spending time staring at a screen, so their DVDs consisted of old children’s films, a few action movies, and The Princess Bride. You had seen every one of them countless times, but the action movies more so. Frankly, you were tired of Men in Black and The Terminator, so you pulled out The Princess Bride. It was his sister’s favorite, but you liked it enough.

Rob raised his eyebrows at the selection but accepted it, popping the disc into the player and tugging a blanket over your body, already nice and comfortable on the couch. 

The first few times you watched movies together, Bobby would be silent. He stared at the screen with rapt attention, losing himself in the plot and acting. Over time, as you both learned to remember each twist and even a few distinct lines, you started talking while the movie played. It went from movie discussion to just anything, with the film serving as background noise to your conversation. A bit of you wondered why you didn’t just pause the video or talk somewhere else, but it was familiar, and somehow far better than conversing in silence. This time, you were discussing how far you could go in your friendship before Rob would stop metaphorically saying “as you wish”.

“I feel like you would say no if I, like, asked if I could pick your nose. Which I wouldn’t do, but you wouldn’t let me, right?”

He considered it for a moment, shrugging noncommittally. “If I had a reason to believe there was something in it, I might.” You scrunched your nose in response, shaking your head to the thought of it.

“Well, I’m not sticking my finger up there any time soon.” You pushed his face away from yours with your finger, pressing lightly into his forehead. He fell back, settling into the couch cushions.

“Thank god. I really think I’d let you do anything, though.”

You sat up, following him onto his side of the couch. There was a playful smile on your lips. “Anything?”

He nodded, face flushed in the dim lighting. He blushed so easily at the slightest provocation—it would be funny if you hadn’t already teased him for it hundreds of times. “That’s fair. I’d probably let you do anything too, but within reason.”

He tensed, eyes flicking across your face. He seemed like he was considering something. He had a concentrated look on his face, weighing the pros and cons. You had seen that face numerous times in the past, but right now, it confused you. Before he could think any better of it, and before he could get in his head about his newfound impulsivity, he opened his mouth. “Is kissing you within reason?”

You paused. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you thought. It’s for the sake of the conversation. Right? It wasn’t like he thought about kissing you as much as you thought about kissing him. He was just so handsome, every day, all the time. It only got better with the years developing his features. It wasn’t like he had a major crush on you, too. “Sure.”

“Then…” His gaze dropped to your lips. He was hesitating, like you were going to shove him away and call him disgusting. But it was finally happening, and your heart beat faster and faster in your chest. 

“As you wish.” 

Your lips connected, and his hand cradled the back of your head. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before. 

Warm, soft, a bit of teeth, but that didn’t matter. You felt like you were flying. Your dream finally came true—the one where you had his loving touch, where you melted into his arms like he would be able to hold you together. You prayed to anyone that would listen to never let you wake up.

When you pulled away, Rob’s face was red and dazed. He could hardly believe that he did that, and that you let him. He had been harboring so many feelings, ones that he himself had only realized in middle school. He tried everything to deny them, to push them to the side, because he didn’t think he could make you as happy as you deserved. But he couldn’t deny himself enough to not kiss you, not when you looked so perfect, lit up by the television screen. He was a strong person, but not that strong. 

You were utterly flustered. A short silence filled the air for a moment before you opened your mouth, closed it, and then opened it again to speak. “So…”

“Can I be your boyfriend?” He blurted. That was quick. “I know it’s… weird, but I really love you, and I have for a while.” He looked away shyly, blue eyes pointed towards anything but you.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you smiled. 

Your school year finished with an absolute flourish. You had a boyfriend for once. Margie was delighted when she found out. 

She squealed so loudly that you thought she would collapse the walls of her room, her hands immediately finding a place on your shoulders to shake you. “You and Rob, oh, I knew it! You’re perfect together.” She had matured so much after middle school, and the thought made your lips curl up into a smile.

Telling Aaron was easier. He looked at you with a knowing smile and then nodded, satisfied that you had both pulled your heads out of your asses long enough to realize you were in love with each other. As Margie was your victim while you were contesting your feelings, he was Rob’s. He knew that everything would work out better than any of you. 

Bobby didn’t quite know how to go about informing his family, so he decided on inviting you over for dinner and giving a whole, uninterrupted speech about how he wanted to let them know that you were more than just a friend now. His little sister, Jodie, just rolled her eyes and said, “We know.” He reddened under their laughter, but his hand was firm in holding yours under the table. 

Your mom was the person you were most worried about. She liked Rob, but you had never really been able to talk to her about those things. In the end, you casually dropped it during a conversation, she made some little comment about it, and you moved on. It wasn’t much of a big deal.

After the initial reactions, your relationship with him didn’t change much. You still did everything together, and you still spent hours talking with him, but there were a few sneaky kisses in between words and a few instances of hand-holding. It was heaven. 

Despite you having a similar dynamic, it felt more real, like you weren’t skirting around a touchy subject anymore. You were fully immersed in said subject, and Rob was the perfect accomplice. 

You knew him to be kind, gentle, and smart, but everything was amplified tenfold over the summer before your senior year. He held you with a special determination, never hiding how much he loved you through touch alone. He pulled you away from Brady whenever he approached, letting you hold his hand instead of looking at him. You saw a side of him that he kept carefully locked away.

 He never left behind his love of comics and flying, but he let you in on those secrets. He finally told you that he was applying to the Naval Academy (which you realized was the reason he was spending so much time at the gym, and why he was an Eagle Scout, and captain of the lacrosse team, etc. etc.), and even though he was worried that you would react badly, you tried to support him. It lifted a kind of weight off of his shoulders and let him be fully honest with you about everything. 

You had never been in a better place. He kissed you, brought you flowers, held your hand, and walked on the outside of the sidewalk. A gentleman, as he always had been. 

One of your favorite memories during that time was when he took you out to eat with his first ever paycheck. It wasn’t any place particularly fancy, as he worked a minimum wage job flipping burgers, but it was special all the same.

Rob was dressed in a polo, hair smoothed and combed (which was a whole lot better than his style in middle school, in your opinion), and glasses perched on his nose. He had taken to wearing them again as he hated getting dry eyes while working out. And, man, did he work out. He was getting a bit big for his clothing, his arms pushing against the fabric of his shirt, and chest noticeably straining against the cloth. You pulled your eyes away from his body, face a little warm when you noticed he noticed.

For once, you didn’t know what to talk about. It was your first real, proper date, and the pressure left your mouth dry. You drummed your fingers on the table before deciding to end the tension. “Do you remember when we first met?”

He blinked, but smiled fondly at the memory. “Yeah. I still had that big cast, and you didn’t have any shoes on. I was jealous, you know,” he laughed lightly, “you got to feel the ground with both your feet.”

He reached out to take your hand, but stopped just short of your digits. You closed the gap and linked your fingers. “I was jealous that you had a cast with signatures on it. Apparently breaking a bone was cool to me, until I realized it meant you couldn’t go splash in the creek or roll down a hill.”

“That was awful. I think I cried once because I couldn’t chase a newt into the water.”

“And I had to sit by the edge of the stream and hold your glasses so you could wipe your eyes!” It was like yesterday for you, hand resting on his shoulder and mouth whispering soothing words until he could pick his glasses from your outstretched hand. He didn’t cry often, but you supposed that particular day took a toll on him in a way that you could not recall.

“You’ve always been great at comforting me.”

“I haven’t done it in a while, though. Hey, maybe you should get that boot back so I can see if I still have the magic touch,” you teased. He shook his head vigorously.

“Are you kidding me? I never want to see another medical boot again.” He paused. “Well, actually, it wouldn’t be so bad if you were there. Y’know, for moral support.”

You rolled your eyes, but your mouth betrayed you as it formed a smile. “For sure. I would dote on you—cucumbers on your eyes, a warm towel wrapping your hair, anything you want. Maybe I could even carry you down to the creek and find a few newts for you.”

“Carry me? You would probably break your back.” he scoffed, somewhat shyly. You didn’t even know a person could scoff shyly, but he was the king of consistency; he did everything with that little bashful tilt of his head.

“You never know. I’ve gotten pretty strong lately.”

“Show me sometime, then we can discuss the ‘carrying me down to the creek’ thing.”

“...give me a few more years and we’ll see.”

You talked about memories for hours upon end, until the restaurant workers had to gently push you out the door. The time you accidentally ate a fly while swinging, and he consoled you as you washed your mouth out a million times. When Margie accidentally left you two locked in her closet because she didn’t want her parents to make you leave. Even when Rob’s parents sat you down and said it would be okay with them if you two dated—which was met with outward disgust and internal hope. Throughout the reminiscence, his hand was held tightly in yours, and his eyes sometimes watered. It took everything in you to not sob at the idea of not being able to form these kinds of memories with him. It was kind of your last-ditch effort to truly be with him, in a way that no one else could be, before school started up again. You knew that soon, you would be stuck in class, and after that… after that, there were but a few brief weeks until he had to leave. You hadn’t been apart from him since you met, and each new day ticked down like a massive, ominous clock. You would just have to wait for him to return, as you waited for him to arrive in the first place. 

Just like you assumed it would, time passed quickly. Senior year was packed with homework, tests, college applications, more homework, more tests, watching lacrosse matches, cheering and whooping at football games, club meetings, swinging on the local park’s swings until you got sick with laughter, driving, and breaking curfew. It was fun. Everything could be fun if it was with the right people.

After things had died down, you discovered that your college and Naval Academy decisions happened to align somewhat perfectly with each other. Margie, Aaron, and you all got your letters a few days before Rob did, and you waited to open them together. Even holding the envelopes was stressful, like your entire future rode on a few printed words. They did, actually. That made it even scarier.

“Okay, we’ve all actually got to open them this time,” Margie groaned. She had counted down from three at least four times at this point. You and the boys were too scared to rip open the seals. It was amazing that she had held back from tearing them apart herself. “Three, two… one!”

The sound of tearing paper filled Rob’s bedroom, and you all eagerly held up the letters to the soft, warm glow of his overhead light. 

Congratulations!

Congratulations!

Congratulations!

…pleased to offer you…

You did it. You all did it. A beat of shocked silence filled the air as you took glance after glance at your own and everyone else’s papers, but it was quickly broken by Margie’s scream. She threw her arms around you, tackling you to the floor, as she yelled, “Everyone got in! Everyone got in! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” You laughed in her grasp, everyone releasing a breath of relief that they didn’t know they were holding. Margie pulled Rob and Aaron into her bear hug as well, until everyone was in a big, happy pile. A twinge in your heart knew that these letters meant nothing would ever be the same again, but you pushed it aside for the joy of now.

Rob grinned, his glasses crooked on his face. “Good job, guys. Congrats. You all really deserve it.”

“You deserve it too, Bobby. Getting into the academy is hard, but I know you worked harder.” You gave him a peck on the cheek as Margie swooned and Aaron gagged. 

It took about two more seconds for the moment to devolve. Aaron folded his acceptance letter into a boat, which he then got stuck in Margie’s hair. Six pairs of hands worked to detangle it, but she didn’t make it any easier with the amount of giggles she was releasing. It was going to be okay, you thought. High school would end, and college would begin, but you could deal with everything coming your way. Your best friends would be with you, and your best-est friend would be an email away. An email and a million miles, but an email nonetheless. He had already created a folder just for you. 

Things changed, as they always have and always will. You would cry, and yes, you were stuck biding the time before your soon-to-be long distance boyfriend returned, but that change was beautiful.

After packing your meager belongings into a duffel bag and a half-wheeled suitcase, your mom drove you to your college dorm for move-in day. She was sad to see you go, but she joked that she could host the A.A. meetings in your room during your absence. She was okay to live on her own, she assured you. For the first time in a long time, you fully believed her.

She helped you set up, greeting Margie as well, then gave you a squeezing hug and walked back to her car. You likely wouldn’t be able to see her for a while, considering that you didn’t have your own car, but you had survived without her in the past, and you would again. 

Everything felt new and exciting, the world alight with opportunities. Every class prompted a discussion within yourself, and every party forced that discussion to present itself. You found that enjoying reality had a sort of grounding effect, even when you were clinging to a wall during a wildly chaotic frat house rager. Margie had joined the adjoining sorority, so those things were often places you could hang out. Man, did you hang out.

With (almost) complete and utter freedom, you could do just about anything. You worked at a Jersey Mike’s on campus, so you had access to free sandwiches and money; that meant the world was your oyster. You and your friends dabbled in school organizations, danced to loud music, stuck your heads out of sunroofs, and edged your way into the campus culture. The librarian ended up kicking you and your English 101 classmates out of the library after you violated the “quiet study” rule a few too many times. 

The school part was, admittedly, less fun, but it was a good experience nonetheless. You ended up switching majors twice during your first two years of college, as you were not exactly sure what would be useful or even what you wanted out of life, but you settled on something eventually. Aaron stuck straight on his path to pre-med with biology, while Margaret switched from political science to education. As the general education requirements were fulfilled and the more targeted classes began, your hangouts dulled down a little bit. Aaron was constantly stressed and no longer had time to roll down the sunroof, and even Margie had things to do. She was interning at a school district a few miles from campus. The new friends you made had less and less time to talk. It left you feeling a little disgruntled, but between harder work and dictating your newly boring life to Bob, there was no time to spare.

He started signing off his emails as Bob; whether it was to sound professional or because it was what everyone in the academy called him, it didn’t matter. You accepted it, like you did so many things about him.

One email chain in particular is now printed out on thick, bordered paper, stuck in one of your million half-filled-in photo albums. You thumb through them from time to time, just to look at the memories. 

From: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Hello, my love!

I haven’t had a chance to read your past emails, sorry! They keep me busy here (not as busy as plebe summer though haha) and downtime is a thing of the past. I will read them in a few days, if all things go well. I’ll tell you about my past few weeks in the meantime. Well, my past few weeks haven’t been all too interesting, but I figured I’d write it down anyway.

Mickey and I have been going through the motions. The classes can be tough, but nothing compares to Ms. Norton’s gov assignments. There’s workouts, class, and a little downtime before it all starts up again. Luckily, I’ve been getting more freedom lately. That’s the perk of being a responsible student ;)

Yesterday, I saw this guy flick peas at his friend (were they friends? Possibly, maybe, I’m not sure) and get absolutely torn apart by an instructor that was watching. I had to cover Mickey’s mouth before he laughed so he wouldn’t get reprimanded. That’s the kind of “exciting” thing that happens here, by the way; I’m sure the others get up to mischief, but with the hawks watching and the stakes so high? I’d rather imagine all the trouble you get into at college instead. It softens the blow.

That being said, enough about me. I want you to send me a million (ok, maybe not a million, I’d be fine with a couple thousand) emails about everything you do. I hope that wasn’t super creepy. I just miss you a lot.

I miss your humor, your laugh, and your smile. I miss feeling your thumb rubbing the back of my hand when you get bored. I miss smelling your shampoo, and I miss kissing you. I wish I had snuck some of your perfume in with me along with the photos, but that might be too sappy of me. I’d get made fun of relentlessly if this email were to fall into the wrong hands, but I don’t care anymore. Oh, I miss home, too, so visit my family when you have the chance. Tell me everything.

Anyways, I hope this email finds you well. I’ve got to go to bed now, but I’m sure I’ll be dreaming about you. Catch you at midnight!

Love,

Bob. 

P.S.: Mickey wanted to say hi, so I let him have the keyboard for a few seconds. Bob is such a sap about u, Hometown Girl, I send my deepest sympathies. Also HELLO! -That was Mickey. Expect a message from him every email from now on, because he won’t stop threatening to tape my socks to the ceiling??

To: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Hi Bob!! And hello Mickey. I hope he hasn’t been bringing me up too much.

Don’t worry about reading all my emails all the time—nothing too eventful ever happens anyway. And if it did, I’m sure Margie and Aaron would let you know as well. 

All the work you guys have to do sounds insane, like crazy insane. I don’t think I could ever work out and then go through a million tough classes. I die after 30 minutes at the gym. You’re lucky all the instructors like you, because I’m sure the others get a ton of flack. 

The most trouble I’ve gotten into this week was forgetting my homework and having to lie to my teacher. I told her I got frat flu and couldn’t get out of my dorm to go to the library… which was highly unethical, but you do what you have to do. As for the others, I haven’t seen Aaron in weeks because he’s prepping for his finals. We just finished midterms. He’s so studious it actually shocks me. Our favorite roommate is asleep at 7:49 PM, and I have to shield my laptop screen from shining too close to her. I’m sure she gets into trouble that I don’t even want to think about… she brought two separate guys to the room within four hours. TMI, but you’ve heard it all anyway.

Instead of a million emails, I hope a few long ones will suffice. I miss you too, so much. I hate having to wrap my arms around a pillow instead of you—it should be classified as a deficiency, honestly. A Bobby deficiency. I’m the sickest patient imaginable. 

I visited the fams on Sunday. Jodie is doing really well in high school! She’s in all the advanced art classes and is enjoying her schedule immensely. Chris was there too, with his fiance. Which reminds me: even though the wedding hasn’t even been planned yet and probably won’t be for a couple years, he wants you to be his best man!!! He asked me to warn you before the fancy wedding court invitations go out. Brotherly love and all that. You don’t have to say yes, he said, but he wants that unfortunate little buzz cut by his side on his big day.

Your parents are doing well, and so is my mom. We’re all getting together this weekend to prep a giant care package, which I hope will be well enjoyed by you and your friends. I need to finish up my stats homework (ugh), so I’ll cut this message short, but expect more after I close my textbook. I hope to see you in dream world too <3

Love,

Hometown Girl.

From: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Good morning, Randle,

I was wondering about placing a hold on the item we spoke about over the phone. I can call again on Saturday, sometime during the afternoon. Please reach out if it’s still an option.

Thanks,

Robert Floyd.

From: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

Sorry about that last email, honey! That wasn’t meant for you. I’m just looking at a lock for my bag. Mickey likes to rifle through my things. I’ll email you more later.

Love,

Bob.

To: robertfl0yd444@gmail.com

It’s alright, enjoy your lock lol.

Love,

Not Randle.

You didn’t have any reason to question his words at the time. Well, you never had a reason to question any of his words, because he could beat George Washington in a telling-the-truth competition. Now, you know that Bob’s a damn good liar—not that he would ever lie to hurt you. It’s just the nice secrets he keeps, like the one he kept the entire time he was training to be a naval aviator.

As his education progressed, though, his eyesight kept him from doing the one thing he truly wanted to do: be a pilot. He just missed the requirement, as he explained in a short, sad email after his eye test. It was crushing, to say the least, but Bob bounced back quickly. He always did. He was never one to sit and mope about a problem, no, he took the next best thing. He began training to be a weapon systems officer, and he was damn good at it.

His graduation, adorned with the markings of a star student, came with no surprise, and neither did his transition to the actual Navy. He did flight training, conditioning, and every other rigorous step to climb his way to the top; by the end, he was a new man. He graduated from Top Gun for god’s sake. Documenting his development were emails, short visits, letters, the whole shebang. 

The one thing that didn’t change was his love.

He was still goofy, nerdy, and kind. His skin may have been tougher, after years of being hardened by the world around him, but he took the time to care for the people in his life. He people-watched, just as he always did, and called you every sweet nickname that would get anyone lesser embarrassed. He still blushed like a madman, whether it was from pulling Gs or your tight hugs. And, which may just be the best thing he kept, he maintained his loyalty to the people in his past. He was a Montana kid, through and through.

You changed, he changed, the world changed. Everything was constantly moving. You maintained consistency in your waiting, though. That was the only thing that didn’t budge. You marked the dates that Bob would come back home in your calendar, counting down every second like you would miss him if you didn’t. One of those dates ended up being Margie’s wedding.

The year of weddings was upon you; Bob’s brother had just gotten married half a year before, and three of your other friends got married between then and Margaret’s wedding. Even Aaron was eyeing rings, constantly emailing you pictures from catalogs in an attempt to find the “perfect” band for his boyfriend. It came with being full-fledged adults, you assumed. Everyone was settled in their grown-up jobs or grad school, and therefore had more time to spend with their respective partners. Except for Bob, of course. He was sent everywhere under the sun. From Virginia to Hawaii, Hawaii to Texas, Texas to Nevada, and, most recently, Nevada to California. The last in-person interaction you had with him was four months ago when you flew to Lemoore to visit. There was no time for proposals, even if you had been with him long enough to be considered married in everyone else’s eyes. 

You were Margie’s maid of honor. You helped with planning, invitations, booking, buying, organizing, setting up, and pretty much all the details since she showed you the large, sparkling diamond on her ring finger. You even helped pick out her dress. It was a classic ball gown-style beauty, with delicate lace and heavy frills. It was exactly her. 

Bob was a groomsman, even though he and the groom weren’t particularly close. It was your closeness to both Margie and her fiance that brought him to the bachelor party in the first place. In the days before the wedding, you and Bob shared a room close to the wedding venue.

Being with him again made you the happiest you had been in a long time. You felt complete, like when he was gone, your heart just ached and ached until he could come plug up the holes again. Living in that small motel room was a breath of fresh air, and sharing a bed with him in complete privacy was amazing in more ways than one.

It was strange, in a way, like you didn’t really know him anymore. He had friends you had never met and a job you knew nothing about in a place you had only visited once, but he was intricately tied to your hometown through a series of souls and bonds. He was balancing between two worlds, and a part of you wondered where he would fall if the beam were to become unsteady. And another part of you hoped he would take you with him when the time came.

During the ceremony the next day, you thought that you wanted to be the one walking down the aisle next. 

The wedding went well, as most weddings did. There were tears from you, tears from the audience, tears from everyone except for the children Margie taught, as they were too young to really understand the beauty of two people devoting their lives to each other. The cake was cut, frosting smeared on the newlyweds’ cheeks, the dances flowed flawlessly, the pictures turned out perfect, and even Margie’s mother-in-law was happy. It was honestly the most beautiful wedding you had witnessed in your life.

When the time came for the bouquet toss, you were so far back in the crowd that it didn’t even have a chance of landing in your outstretched hands. You stood there for moral support, really, as the girls around you pushed their way to the front. There was a countdown, a little shove from the person next to you, and a bouquet of poppies tossed high into the air. It sailed in an arc, red and orange streaking through the air. Despite everything, despite the odds being stacked against you, it was heading right in your direction.

You reached one arm out, squished between bodies, and caught it.

The uproar of the people around you filled your ears as you pulled the flowers to your chest. The crowd parted, and Margie came barrelling towards you, wrapping you in her lacy arms. “Yes! I just knew you would catch it, I always do. You’ve got to help me plan the wedding when it happens, because I know it will, and you’re going to need the perfect dress and the perfect venue and the prettiest invitations and…”

She carried on for a while, and you smiled into the soft, decorative leaves. 

You saved the flower petals, pressed in a big dictionary under your desk. You saved every flower you had ever been given. Parts of them, at least. Your corsage from senior prom, the bouquets Bob had shipped to your door, and the marigolds your mother grew in her new garden are spread out across your bedroom. Most of your memories are tucked away in secret places, only noticeable if you know where to look.

After the wedding, you returned to your little apartment, smack in the middle of the busiest part of your town. The cars speeding by were significantly worse than Bob’s light snoring. It was the first time you had lived on your own, though, which was supposed to be important. You were free.

You could eat ice cream for breakfast, or in the late hours of the night, and you could sing loudly in the shower. You could even buy most of the clothes you saw in stores on your brand new salary and organized savings. However, you found that you didn’t necessarily want to do all that. You just wanted every day to be over already. Work was too much, waking up to an upset stomach was too much, checking your email every thirty minutes and seeing nothing was too much, and those goddamn people in the room above yours were too much, constantly blasting music and stomping around. Like always, you found yourself waiting for things to change again. You imagined you were anywhere else with anyone else, finding a sick sense of comfort in the fantasies. You thought you put those little phases behind you, but being an adult alone was so frustrating that you found yourself going back to old patterns.

Margie was caught up in the married life, Aaron was constantly working, and your frequently long-distance boyfriend was states away. The only comfort you got was periodic visits to your old neighborhood, checking up on your mom and Bob’s family. 

You stood in the middle of Georgia Floyd’s flower bed, tugging at a weed, hands adorned with thick, weathered gloves. The thing just wasn’t coming out. The little thorns were sticking to your sleeves, and you were drenched with sweat. It was the beginning of fall, and the leaves were turning all shades of fiery reds and somber oranges, but the sun was still high in the sky. The thriving asters and dahlias next to you taunted you with their beauty, bending in the slight breeze. Georgia stood in the shade of her doorway, one hand on her hip and the other holding a glass of lemonade. “Sweetheart, you’ve been workin’ so hard here. Take a drink, go home, be merry. I’ll get B… I’ll get someone else to pick up where you left off, ‘kay?”

You sighed, wiping the perspiration away from your brow with your forearm. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” She handed you the glass and shooed you away from her flowers, making sure to take the gardening gloves you had peeled off and tucked under your arm. 

You hadn’t expected to be weeding today, but with Jodie at a friend’s house, Chris a state away on a work trip, and Bob’s father, Harold, off somewhere, she needed a helping hand. She had gotten a bit weaker over the years, no longer able to bend as well as she needed to in order to clear away the low-growing weeds, and you loved her more than enough to help out. You were her second daughter, she always said. A part of the family, no matter what. You walked across the street to your mom’s place and opened the door with your key. 

She had to go grocery shopping a while earlier, leaving you alone in the house. Given that the grocery shop was less than five minutes away by car, she should’ve been back by then. You didn’t pay it much mind, though. You just stepped into your bathroom, hung up your clothes, and took a well-deserved shower. 

After a good forty-five minutes of steam, hair dryers, and other pampering, you were ready to do absolutely nothing. The chair on your small front porch was all set up, and you held a book in your hands, ready to sit and see the yellow and orange sky cascade over the pages. When you stepped through your doorway, however, someone was waiting for you.

Bob. His hair had changed since you last saw him. It was longer but still military-issued, combed neatly, not a lock out of place. He was dressed well, too, with slacks and a slightly open button-up. You were suddenly glad that you had put on the prettiest dress in your arsenal—one he knew very well. He opened his mouth and then shut it with a look of determination.

“Bobby? What are you doing here?” you asked. He wasn’t expected back for months yet, and you certainly didn’t think he had time to visit. You were happy to see him, of course. Hell, you were overjoyed to be in his presence. But what was he doing?

He stepped forward, shined shoes crunching on a bit of gravel, and you met him in the middle. As he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight to his chest, you breathed him in. He was really here, back home, after all that time. You finally pulled away after what seemed like eons and a millisecond all at once, and he clasped your hands in his, your book forgotten on the ground. His eyes were stormy, brimming with what looked like an onslaught of tears. You rubbed your thumbs up and down his hands worriedly. 

“Is everything okay?” Your voice came out as a tremble, slightly terrified at the prospect of something having gone wrong. Did someone die? Did he almost die? It didn’t help that he cleared his throat like he was steeling his nerves.

He put one of your hands on his chest, over his fluttering heart, and pressed a gentle kiss to the other. “There’s something I need to ask you.” You nodded, too concerned to speak. “I’ll… I’ll start with this. I love you so much it hurts me. When I first met you, years ago, I knew that I wanted to be around you forever. Your kindness, curiosity, your heart, everything just pulled me in and never let me go—not that I ever wanted to go, no, I knew you were too special to leave behind. I had to put so much in the past, but not you. Never you. I grew with you, and laughed with you, and loved you in a million ways. Throughout all that time, you waited and gave me your utmost support when my dreams took me a thousand miles away. Now, I’m still living a thousand miles away, but I don’t want you to wait here anymore. I want you to come with me and stay.” He took a breath, and his heart hammered under your fingertips. “What I’m really trying to get at is that I want to have a future with you. I want to be your husband.”

The world stopped in that moment. Did you hear him correctly? His eyes searched for a response on your face as he slid a black, velvety case out of his back pocket. He slowly lowered to one knee, keeping eye contact, and opening the box to show you the shiny contents.

“Sweetheart, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

You brought your hands up to your mouth. After all this time, the moment you dreamed of as a kid was finally happening. You nodded once, dropping down on your knees and nodding a million more times. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you breathed, voice loud and quiet at the same time. Your arms found their place around him, like they had many times before, but something was different. New, in a good way. Like you were safe, completely safe.

Like while his ring was on your finger, you would never have to wait to be loved again.

You smile at the printed digital photos spread out on your bed. Bobby hugging you in 5th grade, the both of you in matching witch and black cat costumes, pumpkin buckets dangling from your fists. A snapshot of “the shaving incident”, in which you had come out with cut up legs and Robert with a cut up face. There was even a silly photo of him carrying you bridal style on your prom night, with your arm thrown over your face like a swooning princess. Your favorites, though, are the proposal photos.

Your mom hid around the corner to take pictures of your silhouettes in the sunset, while Bob’s mom pulled out her camera from across the street. They had coordinated everything perfectly, down to the fake shopping trip and weeding break. It was no coincidence that your mother washed the load of laundry that contained your favorite dress first. The meticulous planning from the people who know your routines best still makes your head spin when you think about it. They all knew about the proposal for at least a week before it happened, and they made sure it was absolutely perfect, down to the manicured background and time of day. Bob even managed to get away from work for a couple days to propose.

The ring is beautiful too. It’s the perfect mix between flashy and subtle, the main stone is cut exactly how you like it, and the band is the right amount of tight. When you asked your fiance about how he got it so exact to everything you had dreamed of, he said, “research”. You later found out from his mom that he had bought the ring while he was still at the Naval Academy from the best jeweler he could find: Randle Montgomery. Knowing that he was planning on proposing all those years ago makes it a different kind of special.

Your closet is open, the boxes and boxes of memories all pulled out and scattered around your room. The dictionary under your desk has been opened, and the flower petals and other flower material placed carefully into a container. A few minutes earlier, you even stumbled upon a written agreement you and Bob signed in middle school, agreeing to marry each other if you weren’t taken by 30. The wooden rose he gave you, also in middle school, was halfway sticking out of a cardboard holder, leaning on a series of first day of school photos Georgia took. You’ve taken to calling her Mom now, at her request.

All of your photo albums are open, with most of the pictures taken out. You’re trying to compile everything, every memory, into a new, large album. The new album is brown leather, stamped and embroidered with little inside jokes and important moments. Inside, you’ve documented every single stage in your life with Bob.

Some of the pictures even feature Margie, her husband, Aaron, Jodie, Chris, Georgia, Harold, your mom, Mickey, and everyone you’ve met along the way. Seeing the compilation of every person, every moment, that made you who you are brings tears to your eyes. 

You spend the next two hours tucking pictures, flower petals, and anything flat enough to fit into the album. By the time you’re done, your hands are coated in a fine layer of dust, and your front door is opening. 

“Honey, I’m home!” the intruder calls, and you hear the telltale jingling of him placing his keys on the bookshelf in your living room. You stand up, wipe your hands on your pants, and walk out of your shared bedroom.

Bob unzips his flight suit to the middle, letting it hang around his waist for the time being. His boots are neatly placed with the rest of his shoes; he’s tidy even when he’s tired, which is a phenomenon you don’t understand whatsoever. His hair is messy, his glasses are crooked, and he’s giving you a tired little smile. It was surely a long day for him. You open your arms, and he slouches into you like he was meant to be there.

“I was just about to get dinner started. Go take a nap, and it’ll be done by the time you wake up,” you murmur, kissing through his undershirt. He shakes his head softly. His hands hold steady on your waist, his pulse humming through the contact. 

“I’ll help. What were you thinking for tonight?”

You lead him into the kitchen, pulling out various ingredients from the pantry on the way. Pasta sauce clinks on the tile counter as you say, “Pasta. It’s quick enough. I’ll put mushrooms in the sauce, too, as a treat. You deserve it after the day I’m sure you’ve had.”

“You read my mind, baby,” he sighs, resting his head on you. “We had some rough ejections, but nothing too scary. And there’s talk of calling a few people to San Diego for a Top Gun mission, so every little mistake pulls people further away from that opportunity.”

He steps away from you for a moment. The absence of warmth sends a chill down your spine, but after he opens the box of spaghetti and turns up the heat on the pot of water you’ve placed on top of the stove, he stands behind you again. You look up from your place chopping vegetables. “Do you want to go back to San Diego? I feel like we just got settled in Lemoore.”

“Well, I’d like to marry you before moving, but I’d be honored to be a part of Top Gun again. Those missions are… dangerous, though, to say the least, so I want to have a wedding ring with my dog tags.”

You tap on his chest lightly, eyebrows furrowed. “If you do get chosen, you’d better be careful. I’m not prepared to be a widow.”

He smiles, a little sadly and a little reassuringly. “I’ll do my best.” 

When you hear the pot of water boiling, Bob drops the pasta in, and you turn your attention to the sauce simmering in your saucepan. You add mushrooms, onion, some ground beef, parmesan, and a lot of love. Before long, both parts are done, and you put a heaping portion on your fiance’s plate.

Your dining room furniture is basic, just a wooden table and two chairs. Neither of you have been able to decorate the house to your standards, considering you’re both working and you just moved in a month ago. It’s nice, though. Not permanent by any means, but nice. 

Not having any big decorations make it easier to move, you figure. By now, you know very well that living with a Naval aviator means moving from place to place until he gets a permanent station. Even then, there’s a chance they could change their minds and slap him onto the opposite side of the country. You’re just hoping that you can get married by a beach before that happens.

Speaking of the wedding, you need to do some serious planning. You swallow your bite of pasta. “I finished the photo album today.”

“Really? That’s great!” Bob beams. “I’m going to call the venue after work tomorrow to see if the date we picked out is possible. If it is, I think we can put the album by the entrance so people can look through it.”

“That sounds really good. Margie’s coming down next week to help me pick out decorations and stuff, so we need to decide on a color palette.”

“Hm… what do you think about our favorite colors? So we can represent both of us together.”

All the wedding talk makes you both excited and tired. You want to marry the love of your life and have a great time doing it, so every detail needs to be looked over again and again to ensure it goes according to plan. Bob’s a great help, despite him having so little time during the day. Living with him, finally, is like a dream come true. 

Everything is like a dream come true now. When you were little, before the Floyds appeared in your life like a fairy god-family, you prayed for something like this to happen. You begged and pleaded for your mom to get better, for you to have friends, for you to fall in love. Every part of that, miraculously, happened. Your life changed from miserable to joyous in a matter of days.

You’re going to marry the boy next door, and you’re going to be happy doing it. As you settle into bed, with his arm around you and a ring carefully placed on your bedside table, you think that all you’ve ever waited for has finally come to lull you to sleep.

Taglist: @withahappyrefrain @seitmai @winelover27 @shinzowosasageyoooo

[callooopie]

Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. Smut)

— NSFW edition—

It can’t be unlearned. I’ve known the warmth of your doorways — It Will Come Back // Hozier

I haven’t written NSFW in a bit ~3~. Bear with me while I try not to blush and cringe at my own writing T~T (also that new episode.. rip MY queen Rhaenys dude. It actually made me so bummed it ruined my night.) Also do I still use the Benjicot tags or is he now his own character now that he’s been mentioned finally ~3~ ?!

cw— NSFW, smut detailed to the best of my abilities. Minors do not interact. Interact with this and I’ll punch you so hard your ancestors will feel it I’ll-

< added one (1) new headcannon since posting >

Cool, calm, confident. That’s what Davos was. Surely it would translate to the bedroom too—it does not. He’s shy the first time around. Very much. Silent, rigid; his eyes simply darting up and down your body as you undress in front of him. The only sign that he’s there in the head is his hands gripping the comforter in his fists tightly. Before you begin, please give him a few kisses and reassuring smiles. Sitting in his lap and doing so does wonders. Run your fingers through his hair in a calming manner too.

You might have to pause, because he’s genuinely trembling out of excitement and anticipation that he cannot concentrate or continue without calming down. He just loves your touch! Any touch, all touch. Your fingers grazing against his skin, it’s like nicotine. Press your nose against his, laugh softly and kindly against his lips, and tell him it’s alright—you can wait a minute. His hands (shaking slightly still) will find their way to your hips soon enough.

Before you two experience each other more often. Before ANY sexual encounters, with you or not with you. He is the type of guy… to not know where the clit is. It’s a sad truth. You have to sit him down and literally point to where it is. No pants, sitting on the bed with your legs spread. It’s not even sexual at this point, you’re just letting him ooo and ahh at your pussy as you tell him what feels good and how to make it feel good. A lesson in anatomy that has him going (“…really?!”). Don’t worry. He gets with the program right away. When he figures shit out you won’t ever let him leave the house ever again.

If he’s already on the more experienced side and/or after you’ve both gotten comfortable with one another after months or a couple years; he is a fiend, a menace. He wants his sheets drenched by the time you’re both done. He wants you passed out, unconscious. If you aren’t being carted off to the emergency room after sex he feels he isn’t doing it right.

Speaking of.. He has sent you to the ER before. A bruised cervix that sent searing pain whenever you walked, burning aches in your muscles and bones from being bent or pulled around that. It’s something that’s never happened before and worried you enough to make Davos drive you to the urgent care. Embarrassment and a hint of disbelief burned on your face as the doctor awkwardly told you your diagnoses, splitting their gaze between you and Davos. The latter had the biggest grin on his face as he sat there like an innocent man. His apologies are a farce don’t believe it.

Needs you to sit on his face. Dude gets off on eating you like you’re his last meal, and makes it messy too.. Doesn’t matter when (or where..) but if you are not straddling his head, laying her full weight onto him—that’s basically like breaking his heart. He wants to die by your thighs that’s his goal. He is the type to grab and scratch at your thighs, squeezing flesh as he tries to pull you closer to his lips and tongue. Sometimes his hand leaves your thigh to deal with his own hardened cock—muffled and incoherent whines leaving him as he devours you sloppily and breathlessly. If he’s eating you out while you’re laying on your back; he will be pathetically grinding against the mattress.

Suck him off under his desk. Quietly slip underneath the wooden desk, he’s too focused on whatever he’s doing to even notice you undoing the string of his sweats anyways. Once he dies in-game and looks down he gets the memo, silently helping you slide them off of him as he talks to his team. Whatever you do, do not drag your tongue up from his base to his tip—especially when he’s comming to his teammates. He’ll be talking normally and then let out a nearly pornographic whine. If you choose to not be a menace off the bat and simply slide his cock in and out of your mouth; he’ll go blank in the head. He starts to mess up, mouth going slack as he splits his attention between the game and you on your knees between his legs with your tongue wrapping around his tip and licking off whatever leaking pre-cum you find. It’s the fastest he’s ever won (or lost) a game.

It’s edge or be edged in his world. Loves it when you tell him he can’t cum. A sloppy half-grin plastered on his face as you ride him. His hands holding your hips as he sits up, looking up at you from where he places his head by your chin. He’s gonna bitch and moan about it as usual, but slowly devolves into loud begging. His speech is slurred as his eyes stare up at you like your god who has the power to grant him that divine release he’s been denied for an hour.

He loves fucking you against the wall. It gives him a reason to show off his arms and muscles—and it feels good. If you have comments about your weight, your body, how will he hold you up, etc. Leave ‘em at the door, Davos does not care. He goes to the gym for this reason baby! To be able to lift you easily and hold you against the apartment wall as he pounds into you. His hands digging into the skin of where your thighs and ass meet. Wrap your legs around his waist, tangle your fingers into his hair. You’re not leaving until there’s a puddle of your arousal and cum underneath you.

Switch. He’s a switch. Let the world (and himself) believes he’s a top, only you will know the truth. And the truth is that he loves when you take control. Tie him up, slap him around, ride him till he’s crying and drooling from either edging or overstimulation—and then keep going some more. But also remember that he can easily overpower you, pinning you down to the bed or against a wall as he thrusts in and out of you with loud groans and words of praise. His hand holds your head down as he fucks you from behind, fingers grasping onto your hair as he rambles in a pleasured high. Davos is the type to tear underwear too, so be careful about that as well..

Davos is gentle, Davos is rough. No matter what, he’s mean about it. And he’s very vocal about it too. He’ll ask if you’re enjoying yourself, if you’re liking how rough he’s fucking your cunt right now—speaking of.. can you hear how wet you are right now, it’s almost embarrassing no? Ohhh, you like being used by him? Well.. he likes your sloppy pussy too—don’t worry. Made just for him, all for him. If he’s gentle he asks if you’re doing okay between the soft kisses he places on your neck and face. His face will nuzzle against your neck, soft whispers of how you feel entering your ear between groans. You’re just a sweetheart after all, aren’t you? So soft, so good, just for him. He likes how you feel around him, how soft your skin feels under his hands. So beautiful, so cute. Don’t you like how you can feel all of him as he thrusts into you slowly? Can you feel every vein and ridge? ‘Cause he can feel every squeeze and shudder from your walls darling.

Biter. I’ve got him pinned—Davos is a biter. Bites at your nipples before swirling a tongue around them and sucking harshly. Licks your ear before biting and tugging on it. He’s a bastard and bites your clit, a low chuckle coming from him as you yelp (he kisses it after, of course). Hickeys line your skin from your neck to your lower abdomen. Bite marks, prominent bite marks, are scattered across your body. No matter what, it’ll be on your neck mostly as well. From the front or the back, a bite mark will find its way to your neck. He just gets so into it! Dicking you down so roughly he just needs to latch his teeth onto your skin hard enough to draw blood. What? No he did not lick the droplet of blood up you must be imagining—

…car sex—I’m sorry I said it. At night when you both are skating or if he’s driving around with you. Sometimes you just end up in an empty parking lot.. the windows are fogged up and there’s music playing faintly, not that you care or really hear it as you listen to his moans. His hands holding your hips or waist as you slowly bounce on his cock while he sits in the driver seat. Bonus if you hold the thin necklace he wears between your teeth as you grind yourself down onto him.

Added! HE’S INTO SHOTGUNNING. Absolutely, how did I forget such a thing. Happens when you’re riding him. It’s a lazy night; him sitting in a chair, a cigarette between his fingers as you moan and whimper loudly. His other hand remains on your ass, guiding you up and down as he lets his head fall back briefly with a low grunt from his throat. He sits back up to take a drag from the cigarette, his other hand moving up from your ass to the back of your head (he gives you a parting slap to your butt). He presses your face closer to his and you instinctively part your lips, letting him blow smoke into it. He does talk you through that like he’s talking you through your orgasm, soft words of encouragement and guidance as he watches you blow it back out. It ends in him kissing you and wrapping one arm tightly around your waist as he starts to thrust up into you roughly. “In.. and out.. atta girl. There we are. Aren’t you just a good listener, my lovely lady?”

[archivesainz]

he hit me but felt like a kiss. 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ cs55

. . . Carlos likes to take care of young women like you !

genre: dark carlos, smoking, age gap (10 years), smut, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), degrading, the use of 'slut' and another’s, penetrative sex (p in v), choking, daddy kink, creampie, cheating (not with carlos x reader) and i can’t think more.

pairing: carlos sainz x reader.

a/n: I think this is a good way to start the account, asks, comments and likes are always welcome. english is NOT my first language, google translate.

I'M SORRY FOR WAITING ALL THIS TIME! I hope you all like it, happy new year!

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━

The waves of the beach were calming, you could already see the sun rise and its orange colours appear in the middle of the whitish sky. You did this a few times, when life disappointed you and you had to put up with it; you looked at your cell phone and the time marked '5:55', you laughed remembering the signs about looking at the “angel’s numbers”.

You get up, walking to your house that was not far away and try to enter without making noise, going up to your room and sinking into your bed to sleep a few hours before college.

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━━

You met him in a bar, he bought you a drink and you talked. On the dance floor he glued his body to yours and danced until you accepted the invitation to go to his house.

Now you're getting into his fancy and stuck car, and he's taking you home.

His icy hands came into contact with yours hot thigh, a junction of ice and fire, you felt anxious not only to be going to the house of a guy you met an hour ago, but also to the fact that your hand seems to rise more and more. You wanted to, but you wouldn't say, he also wanted and wouldn't say so he decides to start his game, you confess to yourself that choosing a skirt was a good choice, easy access and no winding. But no, he liked to get the most out of you, instigate you until you were begging him to stop, you didn't ask his age but assumed that he was over 20 years old. You laugh to yourself because you're going to fuck an older guy.

"Sorry to ask... how old are you?" You say it in such a soft voice that it makes it squeeze in the car seat.

"Thirty-two... why the question? Don't you like older guys?" He says, sarcastic with his elbow resting on the car door.

10 years. 10 years of difference between you, that's not bad, right?

"I like it, I love learning new things with experienced people."

He smiles on his side, lightly squeezing your thigh and slowly sneaking into your wet core. You sigh strongly, you are sure he heard and must be smiling while you close your eyes strongly the hand that was on your thighs disappears.

"Do you mind?" He says with a cigarette in his hand and a dark look.

You do it with no with your head and hear the noise of the lighter and the smell of the cigarette inhaling your nostrils. While he puts the hand that was the cigarette back on the steering wheel and touches its your core again, it is light and dirty his touches make you want more, want more from him and his body, he was driving you crazy.

You hold the door when he presses his fingers there, you let out a needy sigh and he smiles, you see that he stops the car and can see the dark house with lights that were mostly yellow he gets out of the car like a real rider opens the door for you and holds your hand to get out of the car.

"Welcome, princess." He speaks seriously as he walks with you to the entrance and throws the end of the cigarette in a nearby trash can.

His hands quickly go to your body when you enter his house, the begging and needy lips were filled with kisses with a taste of drink and cigarettes. His beard gently passed through your skin, and gave you shiver more and more as you went up to his room, his eyes did not leave your body, your skin, your curves and your ass.

You smile when he takes you in his lap and gently puts you on the bed, climbing on top of you and occasionally pressing your erection on your dressed pussy, involuntarily your hips push themselves up looking for more and you hear his low laugh.

"In a hurry, Cariño?" He asks, not taking his lips off your neck. "We have all the time in the world."

Carlos can't help it. He loses control, and passes the kisses to your lips again, and then to your still covered breasts. He's really attenuated by you. Your body is hot, and it looked like it was going to explode like a volcano.

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━━

He grabbed your neck as if it were fucking nothing for him and saw you widen your eyes even more, your fingers looking for some way to undo that touch that took his breath away. After all, everything was still very young.

"You want to act like a whore as if you know what you're doing... But you don't know, my love, you don't know nothing." - Smiling with mockery he whispered against his little mouth and then went to attack his reddish and swollen lips from so many bites.

You moaned tearfully squeezing yours legs even more against the larger body, feeling the man suck your lip in a hungry and hot way; he was hot. Carlos kissed you as if life depended on that and feeling your mouth trying to accompany him left him on the edge of the abyss. If you were the prize at the end of the abyss he would certainly play headlong. Carlos grunted hoarsely as he sucked your tongue, feeling your taste mixed with the cherry of the gloss and it was to lose the reins, he could not be judged. The man then raised his hands around your waist to yours breasts again, squeezing the small mounds covered by the fabric.

His reaction was to grung soft in the middle of the kiss and squeeze his fingers in Carlos' straight and hydrated hair. You begged for everything that was more sacred that throbbing sensation between his legs would relieve the fastest. Carlos then left your lips with a slight suck on your bottom, listening to yours sly grunt and aiming at your eyes shining together with his pink cheeks.

"Take off these clothes for me, take them off... - He whispered hoarsely, breathing heavily as yours squeezed from your feet covered by your socks to yours thighs.

Promptly you obeyed, with those huge bright eyes so reduced before that man between your legs. You took off your clothes burning in horniness and shyness, he already felt Carlos' property and this feeling was indescribably delicious. You exposed yours sumped tits to him and saw him almost salivate, and like a wolf he advanced. The right arm took her by the waist hard, pulling against her big and stiff body, making you feel all the hot erection inside the social pants. She sighed loudly with the grip and can't help but moan when he started a surreal suction on her skin, sucking as if it were the best candy in the world.

"Oh- my god... Fuck.. So good..."

You begged with your virginal aura so strong, shaking against it while he felt him trim it easily, firmly in one arm only, sucking and sucking on your chest as if it were vital to him and maybe it really was. His whining made him disturbed, crazy, completely out of his mind and could eat you right there. Actually, he couldn't, but he wanted to. Fuck the rest, he would go.

Carlos could be patient after all, he was just tasting as much as he could, making the most of your beautiful naivety and this was like an impulse directly on his hardened and painful cock, there so trapped under tissues.

"My beautiful doll... It's so nice to suck on these beautiful tits of yours..". Whispered between one snap and another with his feedings, where Carlos knew well what to do to leave you at the apex of hypersensitivity.

He smiled like the scoundrel he was and looked at you as he dropped his sore chest in one last suck or almost bite. He removed your lip between your teeth with his thumb and advanced with his tongue in your little mouth, kissing and stimulating you to the almost apex. You felt his sighs and breaths, losing your little head with every rude touch of it.

You was completely lost, Carlos was sure you were dripping, and he could confirm by putting his hand between the fabric of those panties, right in your center feeling your pussy completely hot and totally soaked. Holding on his shoulder, he grunted aiming at the act, yours red cheeks denounced your lack of imminent experience and that was the end of it.

He was so fucking big. You lost your breath with the man's firm hands removing everything that covered your body, dropping it on your feet, feeling exposed and at such a disadvantage when he was fully dressed. Your mouth salivated and your cheeks pinched when he saw the tent formed on Carlos' pants and wondered if it hurt as much as it did.

You took the liberty of touching there, insinuating himself indirectly and even without knowing it squeezed the piece of meat, feeling the hardness and how hot and pulsating his cock could be. She swallowed and aimed at him from that position, smiling naughty and curious watching Carlos return his smile as he kissed your little mouth and grabbed your cheek once again.

"Slut... You're getting well trained. Is this what you want, hm? - The big hand landed on yours and squeezed the cock the way you liked it, while waiting for your answer. "Answer you shameless whore! - Roughly forced the touch on your cheek and saw you whine.

"Yes! Yes...yes... I need to...— you squeezed your legs to each other trying to placate that frustrating situation of your pussy and saw him laugh, laugh in complete debauchery and excitement. Carlos loved to see you as a doll that he could clog with cum, that was the truth.

"Daddy will do whatever you want and will put up with everything like a good girl."

Carlos squeezed his own member in his pants and ordered hoarsely; "On all fours, open it well and lifts up to me."

You didn't want to wait, so you promptly went up on the bed with red cheeks and loapy eyes, swallowing in dry when you were on all fours close to the edge of the bed, opening as you could your little legs, procing your tail well towards him. Your entrances totally exposed and melated. Dripping demonstrated the power of man over your body.

Carlos without wasting any more time, which was all they didn't have, opened his belt and saw you retract only with the noise, leaning on his little hands he guided you to support yours elbows arching your spine as much as possible with the palm of his hand there, opening your little legs as it should be, almost grunting when he saw you so open to him.

"Shhh.. this, that way, daddy will prove it to you first, and you won't keep your sounds for yourself, will you?" He whispered with a false condolence and almost deceived you, because his naivety was such that he came to believe in that asshole. "This beautiful little bitch... That..." He caressed your entire prancing back and saw you sigh nervously, anxious almost biting your own forearm and all he did was smile.

He smiled arrogantly before running his finger between your folds and feeling the humidity. "Shit... so wet for me." He whispered to himself that you almost didn't hear him, and sighed in need by the contact.

Without warning you felt his nose touch your moist mound and his mouth suck your sensitive clit, you moaned loudly and you are sure you felt you smile while sucking you. His tongue made smooth and slow movements, which made you delirious and ask for more.

It was the best pussy he had tasted in his life and he was addicted. Carlos was a rotten man. You no longer knew how to differentiate between your own moisture and his saliva, he was making a mess on you and you love it.

He spent time savoring your taste and widening you with both his fingers, preparing you for his cock. You felt your stomach tighten and the moans get stronger, until the sensations in your core stop.

He smiled scoundrel before fitting his swollen head against your recently deflowered little entrance, squeezing your cute hips he forced himself inside, without mercy he buried every thick and pulsating centimeter, gasping loudly with every tight and resistance that his warm interior gave him.

"Fuck... I'll destroy you and you'll ask for more."

He forced your hips well, at the right angle to destroy you and invade your most intimate corner and watched you growl tearfully, perhaps with hot tears in your little eyes and your hand trying to push him away every inch. The man's big hands wandered from your tense little legs to your waist and the curve was divine, his palm fit almost perfectly.

"That's a lot...! Carlos... Daddy!" - You begged him to practically growl and put everything inside.

It was so big and the position didn't help, but it was perfect for him. You completely felt how he stretched you from the inside.

"Holy shit... how small it is, princess... So tight, mi amor..." And he caught you like a damn dog, clinging to your beautiful little body hit your hips under him, the heavy balls were felt by you and your hand went up to his hair, taking everything out there. "Perfect for me..." kissed your sweaty shoulder.

How would you get away with that? You had no idea, You just wanted to be eaten. Fucked up. Ruined.

Carlos and you could feel his cock hitting directly on your stomach and it was a surreal thing the way it filled you and opened you like that. Stunning. Your bitch moans delivered everything.

"Tell me..." he took your hair off your little face again, even in that position because he had a free pass for his whole body, regardless of how he caught you. "You like to feel my dick here, don't you?" He stocked up and heard you practically scream, covering your mouth in order to control your volume he laughed nicely in your ear, giving you goosebumps. "Speak... Speak that you like it when daddy hits you right here... What's up, bitch..." He forced himself and pressed your limit, watching you cry and stay completely away, dumb, delivered, having to literally hold you.

"I like it..! I like it so much, Daddy!" You begged out of herself, possessed by the absurd pleasure she felt. "Please...!"

Carlos stocked you willingly, with strength and it was nice, the melty noises were possible to be heard every time he buried and came back just to mistreat you again a little more.

"Daddy is giving you what he asked for, princess... relax your pussy, hm?" It was a theater because he loved the tension and every time he drove you crazy and felt you squeeze it all in there; so warm and humid.

"Daddy..! Daddy, please... I feel... I..."

"Daddy.. I... I... my God!" You was coming and couldn't stand it, squirmed all over and squeezed Carlos as if he wanted to expel him from there because you was so sensitive.

The tears slipped and the man held you firmly in place, grunting with the squeeze and whispering a sequence of "shh" in your ear.

"That... that... good girl... beautiful girl... So beautiful... It looks beautiful all the dumb cock like that... it came so tasty, my pretty..." He whispered as he filled the side of your sweaty little face with kisses, red as he loved to see; devastated.

You accelerated breathing and low eyes delivered that she was no longer in this world and that orgasm was overwhelming, her legs were honeyed with her honey and Carlos buried in her place left her with her nerves the flower of her skin. He grunted when he was picked up and malled like a little doll, feeling him more deeply, if possible, leaning his hands somewhere seeking relief from that extravagant feeling of being full; Carlos had sat her on his lap, and her little feet barely touched the floor. She was so small.

"Now it's Daddy's turn." Whispering in the middle of his dirty smiles Carlos made you jump, like a doll.

And he did everything, made her go up and down and her contained whining showed how sensitive she was, tears flowed and her honey also went down the man's throbbing cock, making a mess. He growled in your ear every time he impaled you on his own cock, demonstrating how close he was.

He saw in the mirror her destroyed image and how easy it bounced on the man's lap, soft and fucked. Completely fucked up, both the body and the mind. Her poor mind, all there was in her was him.

He was beautiful, big and strong, the reflection of the mirror showed how beautiful he looked as he pursued his own orgasm, eyes closed or semi-closed, lips between his teeth beautiful and frowning as he growled and growled in his ear and neck. Drops of sweat adorned his face.

Carlos' big and voracious hands ran all over you sensitive body, squeezing where he could and where he couldn't. He stopped on the inside of his thighs and raised them as if it were nothing, now pushing his hip willingly; he would cum.

"Fuck...! Fuck, mi amor..." And then he came, filling you with will and strength, so much shit that he seemed to be keeping it all to yourself, all this time.

He moaned or whimpered, she doesn't know, when you felt the whole heat hitting the cervix of your uterus, filling you in absurd levels; it was absurd. A fucking good feeling.

He smiled as he came down from his height and took a deep breath like someone looking to recover. Carlos raised his hip giving you the whole view of him buried in there and went right there, that was the point.

"See? Do you feel that? That's me. It's my fucking dick all inside you, hard as fuck..." Whispering against your cheek he spread his hand against the beautiful relief that was in your belly and you felt the tears flow in the mountains; that was surreal.

You spasmed like the good sensitive little whore you are, almost melting right there with the vision of that volume inside yourself. How could you stand all that? It was being destroyed little by little and that was exciting. You tipped your head on Carlos' shoulder and stirred dencosa, grunting when she felt too stimulated.

It was all too much, everything in Carlos for you was too much.

You hid your face in the curve of the man's neck, or at least tried, aiming from there at Carlos' ring finger; a fucking ring shone in pure gold.

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━━

a/n: As I said, English is NOT my first language so if there is something confused or wrong please tell me!

[decentwritings]

Chapter 6

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

previous part <- -> final part

The slam of the trunk echoes through the night, reminding you of the weight of your decision. Each sound reverberates in the still air, amplifying the finality of what's been set in motion. Your pulse quickens, matching the steady thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. It's too late to turn back now.

Right?

With each passing second, the quiet seems to press down on you, the darkness around offering no comfort. You're alone with your thoughts, the reality of the situation settling in with an unsettling chill.

Your fingers trace the top of the trunk, the rust is there and you swore to yourself you would never let the paint get this bad. Maybe putting the car through a 14 hour trip was a bad idea.

Running did some damage to this car. Running will do some damage to them.

Just when you were getting the hang of it; the plan, you've resorted to your habit. A habit, you now recall, your father taught you to fight against.

The tarp is pulled off and a cloud of dust floats with it. You cough, waving your hand to blow the dust away from your face.

Your dad laughs, and it's then you finally see what the tarp was hiding. His old, beat up Toyota Chaser that he had sold last year. You only know it's the same one because of the sticker you stuck on the front bumper when you were ten. Your dad tried everything but the sticker just wouldn't peel off.

You told him it was sign not to sell it, that it belonged to the family and should stay with the family. He sold it anyway, the need for money bigger than the meaning of the car.

"Bought it back from the guy I sold it to," your dad explains, circling the car to stand in front of you. All you can do is stare at him, unable to find words to describe how you feel.

Your brother learned how to drive with this car. Your sister learned how to drive with this car. When you got the news he was selling the car, you were fourteen and your mom was adamant your father didn't teach you how to drive until you were sixteen. So it really bummed you out when he sold the car.

But here the car is. And you're eighteen and only know how to drive an automatic.

Your dad grins, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. "I promised I'd teach you how to drive a stick, didn't I?"

You catch the keys, staring down at them in your hand. The weight of it feels heavier than it should, like a responsibility you're ready for. And there's a look in your dad's eyes–pride, determination–it pushes you to nod.

When you hop in the car, you grip the steering wheel. While it's just an average, worn out steering wheel, you feel like it's brand new. You remember watching the car drive away after it was sold, the blinking brake light in the distance flashing in your mind. It was like it was teasing you, laughing at you for never sitting in the driver's seat.

But here you are, keys in hand and foot on one of three pedals. You put the keys in the ignition and recall the trick your father taught you to turn the car on. He chuckles when you successfully turn the vehicle on. It roars to life, shaking the car before finally settling.

"I thought you sold it for good," you voice softly, still in disbelief. You are holding the steering wheel, feel it under your fingertips yet it still feels unreal.

Your dad shrugs. "I thought so too," he admits, hand palming the dash. He pats it a few times. "We were going through a rough patch financially when I sold the car. We almost lost the house," he informs you.

You whip your head, looking at him, disbelief all over your face. "We almost lost the house?"

He nods quietly. "Yeah," he shrugs. "And believe me, it would have been easy to just...leave and start somewhere new, cheaper. But this place is home, the neighbors are our friends, family."

You arch a brow. "We've never shared a word with the neighbors," you retort.

"We wave at each other when we get the mail or take the trash out," your dad counters, waving a hand dismissively. "My point is, things got hard, and running sounded great but...it also would have hurt you and your brother and sister."

You look out the windshield, giving the streets a real look. While you grew up here, you never really thought much of it, the neighborhood. The streets always seemed the same, the houses all blending together. But now, sitting in the driver's seat of your dad's old car, it feels different—like there's a story behind every corner, every mailbox.

"Things aren't always easy," your dad continues, his voice pulling you back. "But we don't just quit when they get hard. We stick it out, we fight for what matters." He pauses, looking at you. "And that's something you need to remember, especially now."

You glance over at him, the weight of his words sinking in. This isn't just about learning to drive a stick; it's about life. About not giving up when the road gets bumpy, about pushing through when everything feels like it's falling apart. You had the tendency of giving up, even at the simplest things like learning how to play guitar, or piano. Hell, you wanted to drop out of high school your sophomore year.

"I get it," you say, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "Thanks for bringing the car back."

Your dad smiles, a soft, proud expression crossing his face. "You're ready for this. More than you think."

"What if..." you hesitate, unsure to continue. But he encourages you with a nod. "What if I mess up?" you finally ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

Your dad's smile doesn't waver. He leans back, crossing his arms, and lets out a small chuckle. "You're gonna mess up. That's part of the deal. You think I didn't stall this car a hundred times when I first learned?" He raises his eyebrows, as if daring you to believe otherwise. "The important thing isn't if you mess up—it's that you keep going."

You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking it over. It's always been like that with you—one mistake or it gets tough and you'd want to quit, walk away before it got too hard. But now, sitting here, hearing your dad's words, you feel something shift. Maybe it's the car, maybe it's the moment, or maybe it's just time you start believing you can handle more than you think.

"You'll get it," your dad continues, patting your shoulder. "Just take it one step at a time."

You swallow thickly, feeling emotional suddenly. "You'll stay here...with me until I get it?" You ask, and a look of disbelief crosses his face. It's like he can't believe you would ask that. "You won't give up on me?"

"I'll be here it until you no longer need me," he answers, caressing your head gently. He brushes your hair down, soothingly and carefully.

You stare at the dashboard, a light is on signaling something is wrong with the car and you haven't learned what it meant yet. It dawns on you, "I'm always gonna need you."

Your dad's expression softens at your admission, and he pulls you in for a brief, reassuring hug. "You might think that now, but trust me, there will come a time when you'll be able to drive on your own. Just like I had to learn," he says, releasing you but keeping a warm gaze fixed on your face.

Feeling a swell of emotion, you nod, trying to push back the lump in your throat. "I just... I don't want to mess up and disappoint you."

He shakes his head firmly. "You could never disappoint me. It's okay to make mistakes; that's how we learn. I just want you to fight for what you want, even when it gets tough." Then he shrugs. "And hey, if you want to give up and run, that's fine too. But I just want you to try first; do everything you can. Don't give up just as you're starting to get the hang of it."

You take a deep breath, letting his words wash over you. For so long, you had let the fear of failure dictate your actions, but now, in this moment, with the keys in your hand and your dad beside you, you can feel a flicker of hope sparking within.

"Okay, I promise," you say, a bit of determination creeping into your voice. "Let's do this."

With that, you put the key in the ignition once more, turning it. The engine roars to life again, and you feel a rush of adrenaline. Your dad nods approvingly, a proud grin spreading across his face.

That's how you wanted to remember your dad—not as a pale, bedridden man struggling to take a breath, but as the vibrant, larger-than-life figure who taught you to fight through adversity. He once told you he didn't want to be remembered that way, not as a dying, ugly, pale old man–his words. A part of you resents yourself for honoring that wish, because deep down, you want him to know that you, your mother, your sister, and your brother will be okay.

Even though you all still need him, he has taught you enough to navigate life without him. His lessons echo in your mind—the resilience, the determination, the unwavering belief that giving up is never an option. You recall those moments shared in the old Toyota Chaser, each lesson woven into the fabric of who you are.

You throw your head back, groaning loudly. Once again, it echoes throughout the night. You lock your car before trudging back to your dorm.

As Deadpool would say, "I'm no hero. But when you find out your worst enemy is after the best girl, the time has come to be a fucking superhero."

"I'm in my Deadpool era," you chuckle, cracking your neck. The current plan right now is to find weapons. God only knows what these weird college students hide away in their dorms for protection.

"Maximum effort," you say, cracking your knuckles and grunting before kicking in the first door.

\\\\\

Danny stares at the building, hating this gnawing feeling in his gut. Each minute without a sign of life from anyone just makes the feeling grow more intense.

Sam told him to stay out here. She said since it's obvious they shouldn't have trusted you, they shouldn't trust him. It hurt, but Danny couldn't argue with her. After everything that's happened, trust is fragile, and with you gone—disappeared without a trace—he's left with no defense.

He rubs the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the building's dark windows. The silence feels suffocating, like the calm before the storm. Every second that passes without a sound, without a signal from inside, makes his heart race faster.

Then, he hears fast footsteps running. They sound like they're getting closer and closer, so he turns and prepares himself for a fight. His fists raise and he keeps his eyes wandering, ready for a surprise attack as well.

But his fists lower when you come into his view, out of breath and running right into him. You failed to estimate how fast you were.

Danny steadies you, eyes narrowed. "Where the hell have you been?" He practically shouts, his words echoing in the quiet streets.

A look of regret is written all over your face. "I'm sorry, Danny," you say first, head down, ashamed. You shake yourself out of it. "But I'm here now. They're in there?" You ask, glancing behind him.

He stops you before you can get past him. You groan at the tightness of his grip, pulling your arm out of his hold.

Danny doesn't back down. His eyes are fierce, a mixture of worry and anger swirling in them as he blocks your path. "You think you can just show up out of nowhere and everything's fine? What the hell happened to you? We thought—" He cuts himself off, jaw clenching. "They don't trust you. Hell, I'm not even sure if I trust you."

"I get it, I know, I'm sorry," you repeat, breath still coming in quick, shallow bursts. "I messed up, okay? But I'm here now. I can still help."

He shakes his head, frustration bubbling over. "You disappeared. Sam and Tara are inside right now, thinking the worst. We were supposed to trust you."

"Just Sam and Tara?" You ask, suddenly uneasy. "What happened to Chad, Mindy, Anika and Ethan?"

"Chad is with them," Danny reassures, but what he says next makes your blood go cold. "Mindy, Anika and Ethan have been MIA. They were suppose to meet us here."

Your heart skips a beat. "I need to make this right, Danny," you breathe out. "I messed up. I was in and when I was finally getting the hang of it, I ran. But I'm back now and I need to help–I want to help," you correct.

Danny stares at you, scrutinizing every word you just said. He had faith in you, that for once you were actually going to stick around. And it backfired. It made the woman he loves distrust him.

He thinks about it, long and hard, his gaze unwavering. The only thing that remains now is, you're his family. There were plenty of times you and your family could have just stopped giving him chances yet you didn't. Time and time again, your parents took him in when his parents kicked him out. He owes you at least one more chance.

"Fine," he relents, and you smile, practically beaming. "But I'm coming with you."

Your smile drops. "No." You deadpan, shaking your head firmly. "I'm not letting anyone else get hurt. You stay here. Call for backup if we need it."

Danny groans, huffing. That's exactly what Sam said. "Fine," he says again, angry but understanding. He points to the side of the building. "Kirby let them in through there. Maybe they left the door propped open for Ghostface to get in."

You start but then stop, giving him a weird look.

He raises his hands, unsure and a little exasperated. "I don't know, Y/N. Just go!" He shouts and you do.

But as you get closer, you come to a slow stop when you see a body on the ground. You recognize the head of hair instantly, so you're quick to kneel down and aid her.

Gently, you shake her, hoping to get some reaction, a sign that she's alive. She gasps for air, waking up then with a groan.

"Kirby, are you okay?" You ask, stupidly, but it's also something you learned working at the hospital. Ask them a question, see if they are capable of answering it.

Kirby sits up slowly, you help her rest against the closest wall. She has a cut on her head and blood is close to fall into her left eye. You look around for something to use to keep pressure on her wound but come up empty. You stare down at your jacket, and hold back a whine before shrugging it off.

You wipe the blood before you roll your jacket then press it against her wound.

Kirby helps keep it place, then looks at you. "It's Bailey," she manages to say, voice hoarse.

You lean forward slightly, unsure if you heard her correctly.

"It's Bailey," Kirby repeats, louder this time.

The need to say you had a suspicion is there but you hold back. It does anger you to know the guy who was helping the Carpenters and lost a daughter in the process of helping is behind this. A part of you can't understand how he just allowed whoever was helping him kill his daughter.

Kirby winces, struggling to sit up straighter against the wall, her hand still pressed to the makeshift bandage. "He's been playing us this whole time. He's Ghostface."

You shake your head, scoffing. "His daughter died. He was at the station when I was attacked at my house. He has someone helping him."

Kirby grits her teeth, her frustration evident. "He's been two steps ahead, making sure we don't see it coming. He's probably the reason why Mindy, Anika, and Ethan are missing."

You glance at the open door. "So he's in there? With Tara...and Sam?" You look back at Kirby.

She can see it all over your face. She sits up some more, taking over pressure on her wound. "Go. I'll be fine. Just... be careful."

You hesitate for a moment, torn between staying with her and going in to help. She shakes her head and you make the decision then. You stand and glance back at her. "Don't die, you're my favorite character."

Kirby laughs, a slightly tinge of pain in it. "Just don't let the bastard win."

You nod once more then rush into the theater. Upon entering, you find Chad on the floor, blood covering his entire body. You bend over, your hands going to your knees as you feel something coming up.

"Oh god," you cover your mouth, shaking your head. For a second you stare at him, then you see the rise of his chest. It's barely noticeable but you see it. "Holy shit, he's alive." You mutter, kneeling to get a closer look.

You look around and find a piece of wood close by. You reach for it and use it to poke at Chad's side.

"Dude," you whisper, poking him again. "Dude, wake up. I read the script, you don't die." You jab the stick into his side.

He reacts with a groan, and you let out a sigh of relief. For a second, you started doubting yourself.

Chad lift his head, weak and slow. He finally locks eyes with you and he appears relieved. "Oh thank god," his voice is strained, dropping his head back down.

"Where are the others?" You asks quietly, poking him again to avoid him from knocking back out. He doesn't respond verbally, but instead, lifts a weak finger in a direction.

Behind the red curtains, you assume he wants to say. You exhale a breath and look back at him.

"Stay alive, there's only thirty minutes left in the movie," you pat his leg, earning a groan from him. You grimace, then apologize before standing.

Due to the students in your dorm building lacking any kind of weapon for protection, you only had a knife you found when you snuck into the dining room's kitchen. You're positive the cameras caught your face but that's something to worry about later.

You take the knife out of your waistband, grateful for whoever bought this fancy knife with a sort of sheath. You rip the sheath off and tread carefully as you peek behind the curtains.

Your jaw drops when you see Ethan standing there, in a black robe, next to another GhostFace. He holds the mask up to show Tara and Sam.

"This was your grandmother's, Sam. Nancy Loomis," he taps the mask with the knife in his hand. "Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it?"

Bailey keeps the gun held towards the sisters.

"Speaking of family," Ethan glances at Bailey, a wicked smile on his face. "My name's not Ethan Landry, is it, dad?"

"Dad?" You mouth just as Tara asks it out loud.

Bailey smiles at his son, proud. You roll your eyes, unable to believe how sadistic this is. Clearly this family needs therapy. Bailey got his son to kill his daughter.

Now that you think of it, was Quinn really Bailey's daughter? They don't look anything alike.

"But if you're Ethan," Sam's voice breaks you away from your thoughts. "That only leaves...Mindy?" She sounds betrayed.

The second GhostFace takes their mask off, and you cover your mouth to muffle your gasp.

"Hey, roomies," Quinn grins, laughing at their reactions. "Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

Your head spins, you had no idea horror fans were this creative. You really did not expect a plot twist...in real life. You need to sit down, you feel like your world is spinning in its axis.

"You...died," Tara's voice is unsure, staring at her roommate as tears fall freely down her cheeks.

"Yeah, but not really," Quinn scrunches her nose, shaking her head. "It was a good way to get off of Mindy's suspect list. Then we had the issue of..."

Ethan rolls his eyes. "Y/N, geez," he huffs, annoyed. "They almost ruined everything. We gave them the opportunity to leave..." he looks at his sister.

"They did put up a good fight," Quinn continues, and you can't help the scoff that escapes your lips. You clasps your hand over your mouth, not expecting it to echo throughout the theater.

There's a long moment of silence and you assume your cover is blown. But then Quinn continues...

"Luckily, they ended up being a coward," Quinn sighs, feigning sadness. "Sorry your crush is such a pussy, Tara."

A dark look crosses Tara's face, along with a head tilt. It looks like she's plotting her revenge at Quinn right there for speaking those words. You frown, both at the revelation and insult. It drives you to finally stop listening and come up with a plan. You pinch the bridge of your nose, reprimanding yourself for not thinking of a plan before actually trying to help.

Then, a thought crosses your mind. You're in your Deadpool era. He's no hero. You sure as hell aren't either.

When in doubt, annoyance was his best weapon.

"Either way, I die," you mutter to yourself, shrugging. You tuck the knife carefully back into your waistband and lift your shirt to cover it. "Let finish fucking them the fuck up." You murmur.

You glance around and come to find a lever. You decide it's better than nothing. So, you saunter over and pull it, smiling at the spotlight that appears center stage. It shines on Billy Loomis' wardrobe, and distracts all of them.

Bailey's aim falters as he looks around, along with his children.

"I had a Deadpool quote," you say as you step out from behind the curtains, walking towards the spotlight. "But I don't think Paramount has any kind of rights to his character."

You don't miss the way Bailey shifts his aim to you, the snarl on Ethan's face and the annoyed look on Quinn's.

You lift your arms and take a bow then lift a hand up to your ear. "I'm gonna need you to repeat what you said about me earlier, Quinn," you feign confusion. "You called me a...a what was it again?"

"You should've ran when you had the chance," Quinn says instead, huffing.

You glance at Tara and Sam, your eyes telling them to prepare themselves.

"And miss out on all the fun?" You shake your head. "Boy, do I have a lot to say? For starters, have you guys tried therapy? It's clear you need it."

Bailey grits his teeth. "Enough games, get down from there. You're outnumbered." He points to the spot next to Tara.

You put your foot down, dramatic and almost childishly. "No." You respond then move on. "Look, you guys have this whole plan to set up Sam as the villain and you guys are the heroes and blah blah blah...I don't know how people watch Stab movies if this is the basis of the movie." You roll your eyes, annoyed and bored.

"My son loved those movies," Bailey's hand trembles as he points his gun at you.

"Your son is Ethan," you retort, deadpan.

"He's talking about his other son, our dead brother," Quinn speaks up, snarling.

You roll your eyes. "Can't you mourn like normal people?"

Ethan narrows his eyes. "This coming from someone who lost their father not even a month ago?"

You grin, because when it comes to that, you're bulletproof. Humor is a defensive mechanism, for everyone in your family, so at the funeral, there were laughs. Crying yes, but more crying laughter than sadness crying.

You imitate a buzzer sound. "Try again. More feeling this time," you form a fake camera with your hands. "And action!" You shout.

Ethan grabs ahold of Tara and you drop your act, watching his knife get closer to her neck. Sam attempts to reach for her sister but Quinn steps in front of her, holding the knife out towards her.

You falter, dropping the annoying act for a second.

"You know," Ethan slides the knife against Tara's neck carefully, teasingly even. "I always wanted to see what you felt like..."

Tara grimaces as his mouth gets closer to her ear.

"The whole mommy issues really caught my attention," Ethan continues, and you can't control the look of disgust that crosses your face. "I mean, with ours..." he looks at Quinn, who laughs at his words.

"Ethan took care of her," Quinn says, looking between you and Sam. When realization crosses your faces, she laughs. "What kind of mother doesn't want to avenge her dead son?"

The words "A mentally stable one," is on the tip of your tongue but you control yourself.

Quinn meets Sam's eyes. "I bet you wish you could've killed yours," she taunts. Sam narrows her eyes with a glare that could kill. "There she is! There's that fucking killer!"

Tara glances at Bailey. "Great job with the parenting..."

Ethan tightens his hold on Tara, pressing the tip of the knife against her skin.

"Shut your whore mouth!" Quinn turns to Tara, almost cutting her arm.

With Tara in Ethan's hold and you and Sam unable to fight due to the need of keeping Tara safe, Bailey finally lowers his gun.

You clench your fists, doing your best to listen to Bailey as he talks about his son. You really try but you can't because you're focused on Ethan's knife being so close to Tara's neck. You never felt this amount of anger before, an anger that drives you to...kill.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside you. The anger is overwhelming, but you know that giving in to it will only make things worse. You can't let Ethan see how affected you are; you have to think strategically.

You lift your hands, giving in after the revelation of Richie being his son. "Alright," you say, making your way to the stairs. "You win. Let her go," you make your way down the steps carefully, avoiding Sam's eyes.

Ethan pushes Tara right into you and you manage to catch her before she falls over. Concern is written all over your face, your eyes traveling to her to be sure she didn't have any kind of injury. Your eyes connect with hers and she nods reassuringly, then she gives you a look that tells you that she forgives you.

All you can do is smile, relieved.

"And they say horror movies is just for the scares," Bailey wanders over, smirking between you and Tara. "You were right, Quinn. Bringing in the unwitting loner did come to work in our favor."

You gently and carefully move Tara behind you, Sam taking the advantage and grabbing her sister. “Thought it was hero?” You mutter under your breath.

Ethan laughs at the look on your face. "Hero? You think you weren't part of our plan?" He taunts, inching closer to you little by little. "God, do you know how annoying it was to hear Tara whine to Anika for you to join you guys on a game night or to a party? Jesus, she was desperate. But she would always punk out at the last second, avoiding you like a plague." His grin widens as he sees the gears turning in your head. "All those times she begged Anika to invite you, and then either never showed or she either bailed? Classic Tara. Classic you. Too scared to make a move, always running, and too scared to admit she wanted you there."

You're flattered. You had no idea someone saw you. You've been told you're so quiet, people tend to forget you're in the room. It had its advantage, you've heard a bunch of gossip.

He stops just inches away, his eyes narrowing. "But now? Now you're part of this, like it or not. And she's not the only one who's been keeping an eye on you. But then you had to actually attempt to be a hero," Ethan rolls his eyes. "You were suppose die that night, at the apartment. Who knew you had some fight in you?"

You shrug. "I watch anime, have an older brother and love superhero movies." You explain, aware he didn't ask.

Your patience was wearing thin, exactly how long do the villains monologue in horror movies? You're positive it shouldn't go on this long.

You groan, lifting your shirt slightly for the sisters to see the knife in your waistband, placing your hands on your hips. "Can we just get to you guys killing me already? Honestly, death is better than having to listen to your suppose tragedy. Boo-hoo, your brother's dead. It's the circle of life; move on."

Quinn isn't happy with your words and she steps forward, slashing her knife at you. You groan, failing to dodge it and feeling the blade slice your side.

You hold your side and step back, allowing the sisters closer access to the knife. You glance back, to make sure they're okay even though you were the target, but to also check if they got the message.

Sam nods, eyes giving you a message.

"He was pathetic," Sam speaks up while you check your wound. You grimace at the blood but don't waste time worrying about it.

Bailey raises his gun again. "That's not true–"

Sam's face changes, taunting them now. "He was man-baby who made his girlfriend do all the killings–"

"He was a strong virile young man!" Bailey shouts, gun in hand, shaking with rage.

"Ouch, guess your brother was the pussy," you're not going to get over the insult. Quinn snarls but doesn't move, knowing her father will do it for her.

"He was a weak little bitch," Sam spits, the words a slap to the face to the whole family. "Who cried before I cut his fucking throat."

Quinn lets her rage win, lunging at Sam with a scream loud enough to break glass. You feel the knife slide out of your waistband just before something connects with Quinn's face.

Throughout the chaos, Bailey drops his gun and your plan to grab it. What do you know about guns? Nothing. Do you know how to shoot or aim? Hell no, but just having the gun gives you an advantage, no?

You see Quinn stir in the corner of your eye and you turn to grab Tara, hearing Sam order her to run. You hurry her to the scaffolding and urge her to go but she shakes her head, determined.

"Sam! Come on!" Tara shouts, pausing midway up. You glance back at Sam, who, on her way over, grabs Bailey's fallen gun.

You let Sam go first, keeping your eyes trained on the happy family. Your eyes widen in realization when you see Bailey reach down, grabbing his spare gun in his ankle.

"Hurry!" You shout, ducking when you hear a shoot fire. You had pulled your hand away from the ladder to avoid being hit. "Jackass. You almost shot me!" You shout, narrowing your eyes.

"That was the point!" Bailey retorts, keeping his gun aimed at you. He looks up and you see him smirk at an open shot at Tara.

You run towards him but fail to make it in time to stop him from shooting. You hear Tara shout in pain but you keep going forward, tackling Bailey to the ground.

You don't hear the sisters struggle as you fight Bailey, or struggle to fight Bailey is better said. He is a cop after all, and all you know is defense with some cool final knockout moves from video games and anime.

Ethan's laugh roars. "I always wanted to stick something in you, Tara!" Your defense falls at his words, glancing towards him to see him waiting for Tara to fall.

It kicks in some adrenaline, helping you find some strength to kick Bailey off you. He grunts, surprised by your strength and topples over. You jump to your feet, kicking his gun away before you run over to help Tara.

But you stop in your tracks when you see she can handle herself. Ethan practically eating the knife in her hands, digging it deeper as she whispers something you can't hear to him.

His body falls limp and you hurry over to Tara, noticing her stagger a little. You hold her waist, keeping her upright.

"You okay?" You ask, searching her for any injuries. You notice the blood seeping from a wound in her abdomen then another in her arm. Bailey's shot only grazed her arm but still managed to do some damage.

"You came back," Tara states, a small smile on her lips.

"Yeah," you chuckle softly, then look around to be sure you were in the clear. "I promise to make it up to you later. Let's go before one of these psychos gets–"

You hear a gun go off, then Bailey's scream follows. You look up along with Tara, confused by Bailey's appearance up in scaffolding with Sam.

You attempt to climb the stairs to help but stop when you see Sam has it perfectly handled. Bailey falls over, eyes falling shut as he does.

Out of breath, Sam leans over to look at you and Tara. "Welcome back," the older Carpenter greets you, tired.

You send her a small smile, saluting in her direction. You look around, Ethan's body close by before you look between the sisters.

"I...I don't really know what's next," you say. "Is it over? Please say it's over." You ask, hopeful.

Tara shares a look with Sam. You understand well when they look back at you, that it isn't.

"There's one more act," Sam says, laughing gently at your frown. "Think you can handle it?"

You look at Tara, and she looks hopeful. You're reeled in again by her eyes, as always. So you look back at Sam, sighing tiredly, but with a determined look on your face.

"What part do I play?"

[sniigura-archive]

All we have is time.

Adam x fem!reader

Summary: Ignorance is bliss, but sadly you aren’t an idiot.

Part 1 Part 2

CW/TW: Porn, COLLEGE AUU, TW:Adam Oral M reciving, one sided pinning, possessive behaviour, please tell me if i missed something, Choking, breeding kink, unsafe sex, toxic relation ship and attachment , implied mental heath issues on readers side

Basically I wrote this for @namazunomegami and I but u guys can read it too ig /j

The drive to your friends house to meet for lunch was painful. For you at least, your friend had a blast. Asking you questions which you didn’t really want to answer. For someone who claimed to hate Adam she sure was interested in knowing about his performance in bed.

Once your friend parked, you made sure to take 2 steps at once when you walked about the stairs, quickly knocking at your friends door. You didn’t take the elevator, since you were too afraid to be stuck in a small room with her.

“…And like, is it true that he has a you-know-what piercing? How does that even work, does it hurt you? Or is extra stimulation…?” She was right on your trail.

The door opened and your other friend looked annoyed, her brows were furrowed and she had a scowl on her pretty face, “What the fuck? Did no one teach-“

You pushed past her into her unfairly huge living room, making sure that all 3 of your friends are in the room when you made your confession, “I slept with Adam and now she won’t leave me alone!” You pointed your finger at your pestering friend, Bernadette.

Bernadette grinned like she was experiencing joy for the first time, “Twice! She slept with him twice!”

You groaned loudly, covering your face with your hands to avoid the stares of everyone. You flopped down onto the soft couch.

“Oh my god? Details?”

“..Wait was that why you disappeared at the parties? You were fucking Adam..or more like Adam was fucking you. My, My.” Your other 2 friends chimed in, a couple who moved in together after 1 month of dating and have been going up and down ever since. So you feel like they can’t judge you. But they’re also lesbians and that’s basically part of their culture so like maybe you’re really the odd one out.

“You guys are acting like we are dating. Can we talk less about my sex life and do more eating?” You whined out. Daring to look up towards your whole three friends, you gave them your best impression of puppy dog eyes.

Monica sighed and twirled a black strand of coily hair around her finger, her short but still perfectly manicured pink nails were in a stark contrast to her dark hair. Her girlfriend, Dymphna, gave you a once over with a slight smirk on her face. Her bleached hair perfectly framing her soft face.

“Why do you never want to over share sex details with us?” Bernadette whined. For someone who acted at first like that was worst thing to ever happen to her, she sure was chipper now. MAN.

“Bro, it would be, like, really hypothetical of me to break up with the extra for sharing all of our sex details only to turn around and do the same to my friends!” You told them sternly.

That wasn’t the only reason you broke up with him, but it summoned it up pretty well. He was Adam’s drummer, and him being part of the band was his first red flag. Other warning signs were his selfish behaviour in and outside the bedroom, him NEVER defending you against his mother, and shit talking you behind your back towards the band. It was a nasty on and off relationship, with him constantly breaking up with you for whatever reason floated around his head and you took him back ever time. That changed once you found out just how exactly he talks about you to his friends, it was the last straw.

Sometimes you wonder what Adam thinks of the, mostly made up, stories he has heard from your ex. Is that why he sought you out?

“Bae, that’s different. He’s a guy. We are girls, which means we are better, and we share everything.” Dymphna chimed in.

The back and forth went like that for a while, lunch passed and so did dinner and before you knew it you were camped out in your friends living room. This isn’t the first time lunch escalated to a sleepover, so you were prepared. While you were chilling under your blanket, your friends started up their questioning again.

You know that Adam wouldn’t care if you shared sex details with your friends, or anyone else really. Matter of fact, you think it would stroke his ego badly. What you were more worried about is spilling too much. His intense possessiveness, the fact that he herded you into a exclusive relationship. One sided exclusive relationship? His stare, lowkey stalkerish behaviour, his soft touches, the way he looks at you when he thinks you aren’t noticing. The emotional charged atmosphere in the car.

“So it’s casual, right?” Monica asked carefully. At some point you got pissed off with everyone hounding you for answers.

“Yeah. What else would it be? Has he ever had a serious relationship in college?”

“Hmm. Well, he does talk sometimes about dates he went to. One time he bitched and moaned in practice about a girl he went on multiple dates with, who talked about equality but didn’t want to pay for the date. Man, he didn’t stop talking about that for weeks. I wonder how Lute can deal with him?” The last part was more mumbled to herself than anything. Her girlfriend was draped over her lap while the both sat on the couch.

Adam and Lute run a female-only self defence club, which is affectionately called the The Exorcists. Monica and Dymphna met at the club during their freshman year. This also meant they're more familiar with Adam than you.

Bernadette was already passed out besides you, her soft snores filled the air.

“You know the story about his ex-girlfriends?” Dymphna whispered, conscious of your sleeping friend.

“Only a bit. Dated two girls in highschool, both cheated. The second one somehow screwed him over, hard. Got kicked out of his father’s house, lived with his mother…Did I miss something?”

“That summons it up... Do you think he was into you before the final break up?” Monica chimed in.

And you think of the times where you were single for a small time, at party’s and gatherings and at campus, were Adam approached you. But you were so far up your heart ache that you simply repressed all those memories. Oh my god. The memories crashed into you like a wave.

“…Naahh. Barley saw him before that.” You tried to avoid the topic, by badly lying. You see them exchange knowing glances, but you just ignore that. Like everything else uncomfortable in your life you ignore. Avoidance above everything else.

Maybe you’re just fucking delusional and your own ego went to your head.

“Wait! So at the last party you skipped out on you were already sleeping with each other, right?”

“Yeah…Why?”

Another glance was exchanged between the couple, which started to piss you off. You hate third wheeling.

Dymphna sat up, rubbing at her eye, “Huh. Well…Hmmm..Adam seemed kinda pissed of at the party. He seemed to be looking for…something. But! Don’t worry about it.”

You threw your head back into your pillow, trying to hide away. Jesus. Your friends chuckled at you, while they got up.

“Be careful, I think if you break Adam’s heart Lute will have to tranq gun him down. Literally.” Monica giggled at the thought.

They both kissed your cheek while wishing you a goodnight, returning to their bedroom.

Even though it usually doesn’t happen to you, you couldn’t fall asleep. As much as you turned in your makeshift bed, sleep didn’t come easy to you. It’s midnight now, and the only comfort you have is your professor cancelling all the classes for the day, so it’s not like you had to wake up early.

You did have an obgyn appointment tho, to talk over birth control options for you. After that you had to work a shift. Ugh. What you wouldn’t give to be rich, but, well, this is why you’re the first one in your family to go to college. Breaking the cycle, or whatever Bernadette is always babbling about.

In the end you lost the fight to whatever demon you were fighting in your mind and you pulled out your phone from the charger and started mindlessly scrolling.

A message appeared on the top of your screen from Adam. Damn. Ok. You opened the chat log.

[Adam Godfree]: University at Albany Study: Semen Eases Depression in Women {Link} 22:34PM

[Adam Godfree]: u up tits? 12:22AM

[Reader]: Yes. 12:22AM

You see the type bubble appear and disappear for a solid minute. This isn’t the first time Adam had texted you at an ungodly hour, asking if you’re up. It’s the first time though where you respond. You rub your hand over your face, feeling stupid all of the sudden. Before you could throw your phone away Adam responded.

[Adam Godfree]: yeah??? 12:24AM

[Adam Godfree]: want me to pick u up bbae 12:24AM

[Adam Godfree]: or i can come over idgaf 12:24

[Adam Godfree]: whatever gets me in that tight pusssssy 12:25AM

[Reader]: I’m at Monica and Dymphna’s right now. 12:25AM

[Adam Godfree]: my fave lesbos 12:25Am

[Adam Godfree]: i can pick you up where ever when ever baby 12:26AM

[Adam Godfree]: jus say the word 12:26AM

You started chewing at your lips, fuck. It’s not like you could sleep and as you learned from the two last times, nothing puts you more to sleep than having Adam rearrange your guts. You looked over to Bernadette snoring besides you, her whole body was arranged like a pretzel. She was a heavy sleeper, so you wouldn’t wake her up. And hearing suspicious sounds from your friends bedroom means also they wouldn’t notice you fucking off.

Your nerves would have been stilled if you knew how Adam was nervously pacing around in his own empty apartment.

[Reader]: {Location} 12:28AM

[Adam Godfree]: be there in 10 12:28AM

SHIT. Ok, deep breaths you got this. Looking around for your bag, you realised you had to pack exactly 0. You ha shoved everything recklessly into your bag, but it was all there. Making really sure you got everything, you rubbed at your face and neck, to get the nervousness out. Why are you so nervous?? That guy literally shoved his tongue up your pussy you actually need to chill.

Before you realised it, eight minutes have already passed. Carefully gathering your bag and jacket, you simply slipped into your shoes without tying them. Walk of shame vibes without having done the shameful part yet. Slipping into your jacket, you left the apartment and made your way to the elevator. You wish you had an elevator in your building. You’re pretty sure you saw a rat last week just chilling in the staircase.

Pressing the button and patiently waiting for the elevator you decided to text in the group chat where your whereabouts will be. Before anyone thinks you ran away or something.

Getting into the elevator you made your way down, till you left the building through the huge automatic glass doors. Looking around, you tried to remember what the fuck Adam’s car looked like. Expensive, for sure. But everything here was expensive so you were lost. Making another sweep of the street, you spotted Adam’s car, but only because you spotted Adam first. He was typing away at his phone.

Walking over, you opened the passenger door and got in. You simply put your bag in-front of your feet. Adam seemed slightly startled but he quickly catches himself once he saw it was you. You muttered out a small ‘Hi’ while sighing. As soon as you were in Adam’s presence you felt the tiredness creeping in. Weird.

“Hey, baby. How’s it going?” He murmured out, he grasped his huge hand against the nape of your neck and clashes your lips into each other.

Adam kept it PG for the first 5 seconds, which honestly made you proud of him, after that he threw out any decency and tangled your tongues together. Grasping his shoulders to push him gently away from you, you could have sworn you heard him straight up whine quietly.

“Alright, pussy pleaser, how about you drive to your place? So we can finally have sex in a bed. I can’t take another semi-public place.” You told him teasingly.

Adam scoffed at you with a smile on his lips, “I’m surprised you can take me at all, babe.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you turned around to fasten your seatbelt. Adam packed away his phone (who was he texting?) and shifted the gear to pull out of the side walk. You still think your friends were full of shit. One way to find out.

Sitting up suddenly, you turned your whole body towards Adam. He averted his gaze from the road to you, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Do you ever feel like you’re going insane?” You decided to ask him.

He scratched at his chin while furrowing his brow at you, “I don’t give a shit. We gonna fuck or what?”

Oh thank god. He couldn’t care less about you.

“Yup!”

Adam gave you one last once over while slightly shaking his head at you. He pulled out into the street and started the way to his home. You were a bit relieved. The less feelings involved the better.

You watched the street lamps and different buildings pass you. You tried to take a glance into the windows, you never learned how to mind your own business. Nothing was more interesting than seeing how other people lived.

Adam smoothly parked his car at his assigned parking space. The sign had a guitar sticker besides Adam’s last name, Godfree.

Getting out of the car, you hurled your bag over your shoulder. You already thought your friends lived in a fancy neighbourhood but Adam really knows how to do everyone. Walking up towards him, since you didn’t know where the fuck to go, you looked up to him.

Adam placed his hand on your shoulder, where your bag was thrown over, and gently pushed you in-front of him. He lead the way while being behind you. His fingers weaselled its way behind the bag strap, successfully sliding it off your shoulder and slinging it across his own shoulder.

You threw a glance behind you, to find out what his plan was, but he was grinning at you.

“What kind of man would I be if I let my favourite girl carry anything?” He whispered into your ear. You felt yourself begin to flush, looking straight ahead, while Adam had his arm wrapped around your side. Walking now beside you, he dragged you into his side. Chuckling at you, he herded you to his apartment.

You were too focused on the feeling of Adam’s big, warm body besides yours to focus on anything going on around you. You’re down bad. In the trenches, basically.

Entering Adam’s apartment, you didn’t quite know what you expected but it wasn’t this. Part of you imagined a messy apartment, with dishes and trash pilling up everywhere, but that wasn’t the case. His apartment felt empty, the way Ikea display rooms feel empty. It’s nice, minimalistic even.

It’s clear to you that Adam didn’t decorate the living room. You slipped out off your shoes, everything was so sterile here you felt bad just existing. Adam took of his own shoes and jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack. He helped you out of your own jacket and hung it up.

Adam looked you up and down and started chuckling at you, “The fuck are you even wearing?”

You looked down at your pyjamas which. Yeah, was embarrassing. Your oversized t-shirt had permanent bleach and hair dye stains from adventure with your friends in it. It was a band shirt of Adam’s band, a prototype you got from your ex. Your fuzzy pants were as old as time. You bought them when you were 13, the colour was washed out. It was blue with duck prints on it. Together with more mysterious stains.

“..What? You don’t like my sleeping fit?” You looked up into his smiling face. His eyes were soft.

“Nah, babe. Nothing gets me more hard than…Fuzzy ducks. What the fuck did you even do to your clothes?” Adam grasped your hand into his, starting to lead you towards his bedroom. His fingers were squeezing yours.

“You never dyed your friends hair at 3am because her crush didn’t text her back for 15 minutes?” You smiled at the memory of Dymphna losing her mind over Monica before they got together.

“Damn, let me guess Dy? Didn’t do that, but Lute did force me to make fake accounts to test one of her toys.” Adam sniffed, “Don’t tell her I told you that. She would kill me.”

Adam opened up his bedroom door and finally you see something you were expecting. It wasn’t trash or dirt, but a few guitars strewn across the room. His big bed was shoved into a corner, it was unmade. Huge windows were covered by the curtains and his desk was surprisingly tidy. His laundry basket was overflowing. On his desk was a photo of him and Lute, they seemed happy. Everything was messy but still clean.

While you were looking around, Adam put your bag down besides his closet. For a second he simply watched you, standing in his room. He pinched himself, trying to get his shit together.

You heard Adam walk towards you, you turned around and Adam grasped your face into his hands, he bend down and kissed you. Soft. Gently. Lovingly. Your heart sped up.

His body was towering over yours, his huge hands on your face and he started to lead you towards his bed. He pushed you softly unto the plush surface, while you laid on his bed he took of his sweater, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

He smirked down at you, grasping at your knees and spreading your legs apart,

“Tell me, baby, do you rub that pretty pussy to the thought of me? Huh?” His tone was arrogant, like he knew the answer to that already.

Which, yeah, he did. Busted. Are you that predictable?? You were going to die on the spot. You covered the lower half of your face with your hand.

“…Maybe.” Your voice was small. Your own pride was too big to admit to that. Shit.

Adam’s hands grasped at your hips, his thumbs were gently massaging your skin. His hands wandered down, grabbing at the waistband of your pants he pulled it and your underwear off your body carefully. Like unwrapping a present.

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

“Wha…Why?”

“ ‘m not gonna touch you till you give me a show, slut.” Adam kneeled down before the bed between your legs, his head in his hand, the elbow resting on the blanket. His eyes were focused on you.

Fuckfuckfuck.

You bit down on your lip. Who would win in this stare off? Not you for sure.

Avoiding his sharp eyes, you slowly spread your legs further apart. Adam’s eyes moved from your face to your glistening pussy. He started to smile at the sight.

A thought popped up in your head. Adam loves physical touch, that much is clear. You just have to give him the best show ever and forbid him from touching you, as a little revenge. Teasing him will be fun. Hopefully. He’s going to eat you alive.

Your hand moved from your chest, to your stomach, to your cunt. Making sure Adam could see everything, you spread your folds apart with your fingers. You heard him hitch his breath. Ok. You can do this. Adam is obviously infatuated with you, so hopefully you can’t disappoint him. Too much.

Starting gently, you gathered some wetness on your middle and ring finger from your dripping hole. Rubbing slow circles into your clit, your lip got caught between your teeth while you tried to stifle a moan.

Adam shuffled on his knees, his one hand went towards his hardening dick. Rubbing at his bulge through his sweatpants he groaned slightly at the sight of you. This really was his favourite fucking show.

“You like that, whore? Do like touching yourself for me?” Adam spoke in a breathy tone.

You wish you had mastered dirty talk like Adam, but part of you just wishes to hide away forever. The other part wants to get dicked down by Adam constantly. So yeah, your mind is pretty torn apart.

“Uh-Hu.” You simply gasped out, who needs words when you can just moan.

Fingers moving from your pulsing clit, you started to slowly enter them into your cunt. Pumping them in and out, the frustrating truth was that your fingers were much smaller than Adam’s dick. Or his fingers. So the places he could reach were basically unknown territory to you.

“ Shit, babe, need me to help that greedy pussy out?” Adam looked into your eyes up. Fucking hell. Sexiest man alive.

He started sitting up, his hands reaching out towards your thighs.

You placed your foot on his shoulder, pushing him down. Usually Adam’s eyes were sharp, like that of a hawks, but right now he reminded you of a puppy with the way he looked up at you with round eyes.

“Why don’t you beg a bit for it, Adam? What makes you think you deserve it?” You tried to make your voice as sultry as possible. It felt more shaky than anything.

Now it was Adam’s turn to be flustered, his face was flushed and he covered his mouth with his hand. Ah. Did you over do it? Before you could take your words back, Adam leaned his head against your ankle, nuzzling the skin there. He avoided eye contact.

“..Fuuuuck, woman, you got me so fucking pussy whipped. You know how down bad I am? Nobody squeezes my dick like you do. Shit….Please, let me fuck that holy like cunt.” Adam grumbled out, him being submissive was hot as fuck. Maybe you should gag him next time. Or tie him up? That’d be hot.

You sat up more, removing your fingers to grasp at Adam’s bare shoulders, “…Damn, Adam. Please stuff me full.”

That was all it took for Adam pounce on you, he grasped his hands under your back, throwing you towards the pillows. Your landing was cushioned, thankfully. Adam crawled over you, towering over you with his much bigger body. Your talent is really biting off more than you can chew.

Adam leaned down to whisper in your ear, “That was really hot, sugar tits, honestly. But we really gotta give you some good lessons on how to properly dom, don’t cha think? We can remember that for next time, now we gotta focus on filling you up real nice ‘n good.”

You simply nodded at Adam’s words, you want him so bad. You hope he wants you just as bad.

He clashed his lips into your own, teeth clanking together and spit being exchanged like it’s your only life force. As if this could heal you, heal you both. You think it does, a bit.

Adam’s warm hands snaked themselves under your shirt, his hands exploring your body. He stopped the kiss to take your shirt off, now you were completely naked, while Adam was still wearing his sweatpants.

“A bit unfair, no?” You ask him, while trailing your fingers over his stomach, towards his happy trail to then tug at the waistband of his sweats. His dick was straining against the grey cloth. A dark spot of pre cum was forming.

Adam chuckled, “Everything for my favourite slut.” He teasingly dragged his sweats down slowly, together with his underwear.

His dick sprang free and it was once again clear that your fingers could not compare to Adam’s sheer size. You already felt a phantom stretch in your pussy at the sight of him.

Adam started kissing at your neck while his hand massaged your tit, pulling and pinching at the nipple. You whined. Once you felt him trying to leave marks on your neck, you pushed his face away from your skin.

“Ok. New rule. No marks beyond the cleavage. I’m serious, don’t laugh! Spring is coming and I can’t walk around looking like I just got mauled.” You told him.

“Sure you can. And when you do and I see you I can remember how you milked me dry and everyone knows you’re spoken for.” Adam tried to sound convincing, he was, but you don’t want to die of a heat stroke just because Adam has some weird issues going on.

You simple glared at him, reaching out and tugging at his nipple piercing roughly.

“Ouch! Fucking bitch. Okay, okay. Got it.” He grumbled out, but he started smirking again, which was never good, “Doesn’t mean you can’t leave marks on me tho, baby. Equality and all that shit.”

Dragging him down by his nape, you tugged at his hair while frenching him. Why is he so dreamy? Or more like what’s wrong with you? Doesn’t really matter in the great scheme of things. This whole thing is to casually have fun. Totally casual. Yeah.

Adam spread your legs apart slightly, rubbing at your pussy with his finger, he slowly slipped one finger in and then the other. Pumping his fingers in and out of you, he was mumbling stuff you didn’t quite catch. Something about prepping you properly. Thank god for that because otherwise he would split you apart.

Slipping in the third and final finger, he curled them up, causing you to moan Adam’s name like a prayer. Maybe you are praying to him.

Feeling Adam remove his fingers made you whine out for him. Yeah you really need dom lessons from him, a bit of pleasure and you’re brain dead. That’s embarrassing, low-key.

Settling between your legs, Adam rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit.

“Ugh, prettiest pussy on the whole campus. Believe me, slut.” He whispered to himself.

Sometimes you wonder how much Adam is aware of the fact that you can hear basically his inner monologue. Maybe it’s best if he doesn’t know it.

Slowly slipping into your warm, wet hole Adam groaned at the feeling of you enveloping him completely. Some sick, locked away part of him is happy that you didn’t mention condoms.

Adam started to slowly rock your hips together, the pressure was building up in your abdomen. Reaching under your thighs, Adam pressed them towards your chest, reminding you off a pretzel. He reached even more sensitive spots inside you with that angle.

Seeing and hearing you be so satisfied made him pick up the pace.

“..Ya know what this position is called?..Fuck!..It’s..Ah..Called mating press, baby….You wanna be..ugh.. my little breeding mate? Huh?” Adam grunted out.

Shit, his dick piercing was rubbing against your walls. Fuck, Adam has been barley inside of you for 10 minutes and you already feel like exploding. At least Adam also looks like he’s going to bust any minute.

Man, and he hasn’t even touched your clit. He has an incredible effect on you. Well, more like on your pussy. You never thought pregnancy was hot till now. You literally let the guy spit in your mouth.

Scratching up his back, you decided to make him regret saying that you could mark him up as much as you pleased. Fucker. Your lips searched for Adam’s skin, you dragged his face towards yours. You kissed the side of his mouth, he tried to catch your lips into his, but you moved on.

Lips crashed into his cheek and chin and nose, till you finally found his neck. You made sure to kiss, suck and lick as hard as possible. Everywhere you could. Adam groaned straight up in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Want to mark me up, heh. Show everyone who I belong to? Shit.” Adam grasped at your hips to keep you still, to fuck into you.

“Love when you do that. When you hit that spoo-Ah- spot!” You called out to Adam, to spur him on. To have him fuck your harder. You felt juices run down your thighs.

“Oh yeah?..Tell me what else you love?” He groaned out.

“Adam! Right there, please. I..Uhh…Love your dick…?” It was more a question than a statement.

“Fuck. I’ll take it.” Adam kept up his pace, and you felt your toes curling, your legs tensing up, while you locked your ankles behind Adam’s back, to keep him inside of you.

Your orgasm crashed over you, like an electric shook cursing through your body. Feeling you clench around him, Adam couldn’t keep up much longer and he came inside you.

The sensation of having Adam’s hard dick pulse inside you, while his hot seed is spilling inside you made you sob out at the overstimulating feeling.

Adam rubbed his big, warm hands over sweaty body in a soothing manner. What a man.

While Adam was kissing your cheek, chin and nose, you felt your heartbeat slow down. Reaching around blindly, you fished out your pyjama shirt and slipped it over your head. Adam’s eyes never left your form and neither did his hands.

He put on his underwear, to then pull you into his arms, being the big spoon. You were already half gone, cuddled into the blanket with Adam.

With Adam it felt like, he was born to be domestic and monogamous but forced to frat and fuck around.

You couldn’t spare more energy on that thought, since you were already drifting off.

———————————————

Waking up in Adam’s bed, with Adam’s arms loosely wrapped around you felt surreal. Light was peaking out of the curtains. You had no clue what time it was. It felt like morning. Was it morning?

You had to take your medication. You really didn’t want Adam to know you’re on meds. That’s really non of his business. You don’t even want it to be your business, to be honest. Rummaging through your bag like a crazy woman would very much wake him up. You had to find the bath.

Slowly and carefully getting up, you crawled out of Adam’s alaskan king size bed. Jesus his bed was nearly as big as your whole apartment. Adam was a big guy, though. He does need a big bed. Imagine him squeezing him in your bed made you smile, but also made your neck ache for him.

You took your bag, which was ungracefully put besides Adam’s closet, and walked into the living room. Where was the bathroom? Looking at the choice of 3 doors, one obviously the front door, the other two where a mystery. Adam’s apartment had an open concept, so you saw that one of the doors isn’t the kitchen door, since you could directly look into it.

Deciding to just open the door closest to you, you were happy to see that it was the bathroom. The other must be like a guest room, or a storage space. Or whatever.

Gently closing the door behind you, you started searching for your pill bottle in your bag. You ended up spilling out your whole bag on the bathroom floor to find that stupid thing. Taking out your doses, you placed the pill under your tongue and started up the sink to gather some water in your hand. Swallowing everything, you closed the tap.

Feeling Adam’s cum run down your thigh made you cringe. Should you shower? Would he be mad if you used his shower? What the fuck why would he get mad at you for using his shower, that guy cums inside you now regularly. You have to get your shit together.

Before you could take your shirt off, you heard a door slam and Adam yelling,

“What the fuck! That fucking cunt! Where fucking-“ You heard him put on his clothes outside the door.

Carefully opening the bathroom door, you made awkward eye contact with a half dressed Adam. A beat of silence passed.

“..Are you good?” You decided to ask him.

His breathing was calming down, and he rubbed a hand over his face. He avoided eye contact with you.

“Yeah, totally. I…I have this, like, crazy neighbour, you know?” He tried to weasel his way out of the conversation.

“Adam, I think you might be the crazy neighbour.” You simply told him.

His head whipped towards you, he glared at you, stepping closer to you and pointing a finger at you, “Alright, listen here you-“

Before he could continue his sentence, you hooked your own pointer finger against his.

“Wanna take a shower with me?” You looked up to him, with hopeful eyes. You tugged him towards you, with your intervened fingers.

By simply looking at him, you knew Adam was losing the resolve he had to be mad at you. Thank god.

Adam took off his wrinkly shirt, throwing it into the abyss. Same with his other cloth articles. All you had to do was take off your shirt. While you stepped into the shower, Adam’s eyes wandered across your spilled out bag items.

You were playing around with the water settings and temperature when you felt Adam wrap his arms across your stomach. You leaned back against his soft stomach and broad chest. Once you were satisfied with everything you ducked under the water, feeling the warm water envelope you made your muscles relax.

When you looked around, you weren’t surprised to see a 1 in 3 shampoo bottle. Once you made sure that your hair was soaked properly, you tried to reach out for the bottle but Adam was faster than you.

He spun you around so you were facing him and he then squirted a generous amount of soap into his hand. He massaged the soap gently into your hair, then he moved on to your body. He threw away any chastity he tried to keep up, his hands were massaging your tits. His lips meet your own, and he bit his teeth into them. You couldn’t suppress the moan leaving your mouth.

He moved his hands towards your hips, dragging your crotch towards his already harding dick. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

Adam helped you rins off the soap from your hair and body, he kept leaving kisses on your face and neck while doing so. He turned you so his body was shielding you from the water. Damn his height and build.

With his hands on your shoulders he lightly pushed you down on your knees. So, here you were kneeling down in front of Adam. His totally not intimidating dick hang before you, thick and heavy.

You have heard the term breeder balls, and you never really had an image in your mind till you saw Adam. Looking up at him, you saw him smirk down at you. Grasping your cheeks into his hand, he squeezed your lips apart.

“Wanna please daddy? Suck my dick real good?” Adam told you with a shark like grin.

You swallowed down the extra spit collecting in your mouth, Adam just mad you nervous. Made your stomach flutter and your thighs clench.

Reaching out your hand, you started to slowly wrap your fingers around Adam’s cock. Your fingers barley met, and you started stroking him back and forth. Your thumb rubbed over his tip, the pre cum was collecting rapidly. Adam’s hand went to your head, he was pushing away your hair from your face.

“You teasin’ me?” Adam mumbled out. He tugged at your hair in a threatening manner.

Taking his dick in his own hand, he lightly slapped your cheek with it.

“How about you clean my dick for me? Open up wiiiiiiide.” Man, you didn’t even need to look at him to see the wide grin in his face.

Opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue, you let Adam rub his tip against your tongue. The salty and slightly bitter taste of his pre cum hit your taste buds. It could be worse, for sure.

Adam eased his dick into your mouth, with every shallow trust he put more and more and more down your throat. You tried to breath through your nose, tried to steady yourself. He didn’t bother letting you set the pace, simply starring into your face to gauge your reactions, to not push you too far.

Your hands rested on his bulky thighs, your nails digging into skin and hair. You kept your lips over your teeth, to not hurt him. Using your tongue to massage his dick as best as possible, you also hollowed out your cheeks, to suck him properly in.

“Such a pretty face, would be a waist to fuck you any way where I can’t see it. You want me to cum down your throat? Sure you do, all the bitches love that.” Maybe you should bit his dick. Fucker.

Adam, head pusher, Godfree thrusted his dick further and further down your throat. His pace was getting faster and rougher. Just how he was with your pussy. An especially deep push made you choke and gag. You pushed yourself off Adam’s dick, to catch your breath and not to throw upon his dick. That would be embarrassing.

He petted your hair gently, while waiting for you, “..Why did you take your bag with you?” He quietly asked you.

“..Uhh..I..wanted to get..just dressed.” Man you’re a bad liar.

Adam pinched your cheek with his fingers, it bordered on painful. He just starred down at you. Usually you could easily read him, he was very expressive and voiced any kind of emotion he’s going through. Verbally and nonverbally. This time tho, his face was blank. The usual pleasant nervous you felt around Adam turned into dread.

He simply hummed at you, pushing your head towards his dick. You took him back into your mouth. He returned towards his rough pace, making you choke slightly but this time you recovered quicker.

“ ‘m gonna cum down your little throat.” Was the only warning you got, before Adam held your head still to fuck into your mouth. Feeling him cum down your throat was sure an experience.

Adam, because he’s an asshole, decided to pinch your nose, to keep you from breathing. It was only for a few seconds, but it was enough to push yourself off him once he was gone and to

take in air greedily. Motherfucker.

Leaning towards him, you bit into his thigh. As hard as you could. Usually when you bit him you try to mind your teeth, this time you hoped he bled.

With a painful yelp Adam quickly pulled you off of him.

“Why the fuck did you do that?!” He angrily asked you.

“Why fucking choke me, dumbass?” You asked back with the same energy.

“Babe, what’s the big deal? I can promise you, if you sat on my face and choked me? I would cum in my pants. Straight up.”

“Fuck off.”

Roughly grasping your jaw into his hand, he was seething and it was a borderline painful sensation.

“Why take your fucking bag with you?”

Shaking him off you, you rubbed at your jaw,

“That’s non of your business.” You hissed out at him.

You saw Adam’s tongue poke his cheek, a bitter smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah, right.” Adam grasped you under your arms, picking you up. For a second he simple held you up like a rag doll. You felt small and helpless, you hated that. With a hand on your shoulder he forced you out of the shower, into the cold air. Adam picked up a bathing rob and put it on you.

And even though he was clearly pissed off at you, he was still careful when dressing you. He draped a towel over your head, he then grasped your arm and threw you out of the bathroom, he locked the door once you were out.

What the hell?

Wait.

“Adam! Give me my fucking bag!” You hammered a fist against the door.

“Whaaat? Sorry, baby, I can’t hear youuuuu.” He turned the shower up more to drown out the sound of you cursing him out.

There’s no use in yelling at Adam, you knew that. Stomping towards his bedroom, you threw yourself into the soft bed. Sitting up, you looked around. Seeing a clock at the bed site table showed you it’s roughly 6:30 AM. Damn. No wonder you felt so tired. Ah, your phone was on there too. You didn’t see it in your bag, you thought it would be by the closet. Dropping out of your messy bag. Adam probably put it there.

Picking it up you simply looked through your notifications. Nothing exciting was going on. You should probably just sleep. Putting in a reasonable alarm, and putting it back on the little table, you cuddled up under Adam’s soft blanket. Everything smelled like him. That was nice.

Before you fully drifted off, you heard the bathroom door unlock. You sat up properly, to see Adam enter the room. It seemed like he calmed down. Couldn’t be you. He put down your packed bag back near the closet. Ugh.

“Ever heard of privacy and boundaries?”

“Naw, don’t believe in that bullshit.”

Yeah, you could fucking tell.

Adam sat down at the edge of the bed, looking at you with a look you couldn’t quite place. He was scratching at the stubbles at his chin.

“..I don’t give a fuck if you’re on meds. If that’s why you were acting so fucking shifty.”

“I don’t care about your opinion! I care if I have to take that shit! And believe me, I genuinely wish I didn’t need it. I’d rather just…be normal and fit in.” Your voice got smaller at the end. You want nothing more than to fit in.

Adam sighed, “..Well, how were your shitty little friends supposed to find you, if you were like everyone else?” He grasped your neck gently and your foreheads touched each other while you gazed into each others eyes, “..How would I have found you if you didn’t stand out?”

You felt your eyelashes get wet, tears gathering in your eye. Damn. Okay.

You sniffed and rubbed the water from your eyes.

“…Let’s sleep.”

Adam grunted in agreement. Lots of excitement for one morning. Laying back down, you felt Adam’s arms wrap around you once again.

And when you woke up a few hours later, Adam had a tight grip on you and had you pressed against the wall. So you couldn’t escape this time.

[kaliforniahigh]

Can I request wedding night with Noah. Noah is experienced and reader has experience but hasn’t been intimate in a while (they had a bad time being intimate with someone else). They both agree to wait till their wedding night, reader is nervous and Noah comforts her and makes it amazing.

Hi, nonny! I've been thinking about this request and I decided to change it up a bit. Instead of making it their wedding night, I wrote them being intimate for the first time as a couple. Hope it's still good :)

Warnings: reader describes some situations revolving around sex that could be uncomfortable for some people, sexual harassment in previous relationships, smut (fingering, f receiving), dirty talk and reassurance <3 Noah is a sweet pea! I think that's it!

WC: 2.9k (not proofread yet!)

Requests are closed for now.

You haven't been in many serious relationships in your life, but you've dated around, and if you were being serious, you never had much luck with the guys you've been with. Specially in the sex department.

You figured that every man was the same at this point.

Most of the time, you felt like you were with them only to satisfy their sexual needs, because their sex drive was endless.

You were having a movie night? It had to end with sex.

Date night? It ends with sex.

And if you didn't want to have sex? "It's unfair, you could at least give me blowie, right?" they told you. You thought the situation was ridiculous and just decided to leave.

Noah was a nice guy from the beginning, but you felt like you were waiting for the switch to turn at every moment. When you started going out on dates, he drove you home and didn't expect you to kiss him or invite him up to your apartment.

When you were over at his place, having dinner and watching some series he was excited about, he didn't find a way to inconspicuously put your hand over his crotch.

He didn't talk about his past relationships or the girls he's been with in a degrading way.

You thought it was too good to be true, honestly. Eventually he was gonna wask you why you haven't made a move on him yet.

Truth is, you've been wanting to make a move on him for a while now.

It's been such a long time since you felt like you genuinely wanted to have sex with someone, not because you had to, but because you wanted to.

You obviously weren't blind to his good looks, but the way he treated you was what made you crazy for this man. He respected you and he never did anything to make you feel uncomfortable or unwanted. Quite the contrary, his flirting showed that he had as much interest in you as you had in him, but his actions were clear, he was gonna wait for you to make the first move.

The first time you felt bold enough was when you were over at his house. You planned a date night and he cooked for you. Then you sat on the couch, blanket draped over the both of you as you watched a movie.

Halfway through the film, rain started to fall outside, which soon turned into a full-blown storm. You thought it would pass by the time the movie ended, but it was persistent and the sky outside was a dark shade of grey, not giving signs of letting up anytime soon.

"I'm not letting you drive in this storm", Noah stated to you.

"I'll just wait until it passes to go home", you told him.

"Y/N", he looked at you "it's almost 11 at night, this storm is not passing anytime soon, and even if it did, it's already too late for you to drive home alone"

You sighed because you knew that what he said is true.

"Why don't you just sleep over tonight?", he proposed to you. "It's the weekend and you don't work tomorrow"

"Ok, I can just sleep here on the couch", you told him, but he gave you a look that told you he was not ok with what you just said.

"I'm not letting you sleep on the couch. I take the couch and you sleep on the bed", he said but you shook your head immediately.

"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, Noah", you kept shaking your head.

"Well, then, what are we gonna do about it, princess?", he said with a little teasing in his voice and a challenge in his eyes. You already knew what he wanted you to say.

"Is your bed big enough for us to share?", you asked.

"I'll take you upstairs and you can see for yourself", he got up, taking your hand in his and leading you up the stairs.

His room had light colored walls, and you recognized some of it from the times you facetimed him. You've been in his room before, but only in passing, but now you paid more attention to it. His bed seemed to be a queen size, enough to fit the two of you and leave some room to spare.

You rubbed your chin, as if thinking about the situation, then you turned to him and said "I guess we can both fit in there pretty well", and he grinned at your answer.

"I'll set aside some clothes for you to wear, then we can finish watching the movie here", he said, as he made his way to his closet.

You observed a little more and saw a television perched on the wall, right in front of his bed.

He set a Bad Omens shirt and some pants on the bed for you.

"I'll leave you to change", he turned around and exited the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

You striped from the clothes you were wearing and put the shirt on over your head. You noticed that it went well past your mid thighs. You knew Noah always wore and XL when it came to the band's merch, but you never realized how big it would be on you.

You eyed the pants and pondered over your next move. You could forgo the pants all together if you wanted to. You knew it was a bold move and you didn't want to come on too strong. But you also knew that you needed him to know you wanted this, that you wanted more.

So you folded the pants and set it aside on his computer chair, making your way out of the room and to the kitchen, where you found him drinking a cup of water.

He was mid sip when he noticed you standing there, almost choking on the water when he noticed you wearing only his shirt. He pulled himself together and said with a little cough "you look good in this shirt"

You smiled, looking down your body. "It's so big, I thought I didn't really need the pants. I hope that's ok"

"Y-yeah, it's fine. Whatever makes you comfortable", he scratched the back of his neck, thankful for his own long shirt, that way you didn't notice how rock hard he was under his pants. "I put a toothbrush on the bathroom counter for you", he decided to change the topic of conversation.

"Oh, thank you. I'll go get ready for bed then", you said and turned around, grinning all the way to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Noah was waiting for you, laying on his bed and wondering how in the hell he would be able to share a bed with you, when only the mere sight of your half covered body made him become a nervous teenager all over again.

Should he put pillows between you? He didn't want you to feel weird about this, and he surely didn't want to wake up cuddling you, like it always happens in the movies.

He didn't have time to think about this for much longer, because seconds later, you were coming in the room, your hair up and your eyes already a little tired, looking mighty ready for bed.

"I thought maybe we should continue this movie some other day", he stated as you climbed onto your side of the bed. He tried not to stare at the way the shirt rode up your thighs.

"Yeah, I'm feeling a little tired myself", you got comfortable under the covers, laying on your side to look at Noah, who was laying on his back.

"Well then, good night, Y/N. Hope you sleep well", his head turned to the side to look at you.

"I will. Good night, Noah", you threw the words back at him. He reached on the other side and turned off the lamp, shrouding the room in darkness.

You both laid in the same positions for several minutes, knowing neither one of you was asleep.

You stretched your arms beside you, but your hand bumped into his. You didn't retreat, thinking it would be weird to move it away, so you let it stay there, softly brushing against his.

Seconds later, you felt his fingers softly start to brush over the back of your hand, eventually bringing them together and lacing your hands.

Your breath picked up a little, but decided you were gonna give him something in return. So you started to move your other hand up and down his arm, in a soothing motion, using your nails to softly scratch over his skin.

In the silence of the room, you heard his breath hitch. You moved closer to him on the bed, lips ghosting over the side of his neck. His chest was now moving rapidly.

"Noah...", you whispered into the silence of the room.

"Yeah", he aswered with his voice a little out of breath.

"Do you want this?", you said, hoping you weren't reading the situation entirely wrong. He moved his head to the side to look at you. Even in the darkness, you could see his intense, dark eyes staring into your soul.

The hand that wasn't on yours moved to rest on the side of your face. "I've never wanted anything more" he breathed back to you.

Wasting no more time, you leaned up on your elbow and crashed your lips to his. His grip on your face a little tighter now, keeping your lips close together. You both moved in sych and you don't remember ever feeling this flurry of emotions from a kiss before.

His tongue teased your lips and you opened them to grant him entrance to your mouth. He tasted like toothpaste and you probably did too. But the feeling of his lips on yours and his tongue exploring your mouth was something that was unmistakebly him. The way his hand felt on your skin was something you've never felt before. And suddently, you wanted to feel the rest of him.

Without breaking the kiss, you threw a leg over his waist, straddling him and both of his hands went to rest on your thighs, moving them up and down.

You were both a panting mess when you parted, and you had to keep yourself from moving your hips, desperatly wanting some friction.

"Can I take your shirt off?", he asked you, breathless.

"Yes, please", your voice had an edge of desperation, and that made him give you a little smirk in return, clearly pleased with the way he made you feel.

His hands made their way up, completely removing the cloth from your body, only to find out that you were completely bare underneath. Groaning, he threw the shirt somewhere on the floor.

"Can I touch these pretty tits of yours?", you nodded feverishly, but he wasn't satisfied with your answer. "I need you to tell me, baby"

"Yes, please. I want you to touch me, Noah", his need to hear your verbal consent was so sexy, you felt yourself getting even wetter.

"I appreciate you being such a polite girl for me, but you don't gotta say please all the time", he said, as his hand started to kned the skin of your breasts. "I'll give you whatever you want, don't gotta ask for it, baby"

"Sorry, just so used to it", you whined a little, both from his words and form the feeling of his big hands on you.

"I know, my sweet girl. Don't have to apologize", his hand traveled up and gripped the back of your neck, bringing you down to lay on top of him and bring your lips back together.

"You just lay on top of me and I'll make you feel really good, ok?", he whispered into your lips.

"Ok", you said as you got comfortable on top of him, grinding yourself on him in the process, the movement making you gasp.

"You're so sensitive, huh?", he teased, as his hands roamed all over your body, resting them over the skin of your ass, massaging the fat of your bum and making your ass jiggle a little.

As he ran his hands up and down your ass, the tips of his fingers teasingly ran over your clothed center, making you let out soft gasps and quiet moans. You held back from begging, remembering his words from earlier.

"Gonna pull your pretty little underwear to the side now, ok baby?" he asked you, and you nodded against his chest. He could feel your gasps on his skin.

"Yeah, wanna feel your fingers on me", you whined, longing for the feeling, the release.

You felt his finger hook under the fabric, as he slowly pulled it to the side, your pussy now exposed. You could feel how wet you were, as your skin came in contact with the coldness of the room.

He started with one finger, running up and down your slit. His other hand was on your head, running his finger over your scalp, the soothing motion giving you whiplash compared to his sensual movements.

"So wet for me, baby. I've been dreaming of feeling you top of me like this", he whispered in your ear, Your bodies were so close together, his breath fanning over the side of your face, the smell of him invading your senses. It was all a lot for you.

You couldn't help but grind your hips down on him, looking for something more.

"Want your fingers inside of me. Need them inside", you told him, eyes looking up at him.

"Yeah? Want them to stretch you open? I bet you would feel so tight around them", he said as he dipped one finger inside you, but he didn't move yet, he just kept it buried there.

You sighed in pleasure. His finger felt so deep inside of you.

He slowly started to move it in and out in a languid pace, finding no resistence at all, considering how turned on you were at the moment.

Soon enough, he added another one, the sensation something else completely. You hid your face in his neck, moaning into his skin, your hips now moving on their own accord. He wouldn't stop you, he loved the way you were so eager to feel the pleasure he was giving you.

The noises filling the room were indecent, the moans coming out of your mouth and the squelching sounds from between your legs.

At one moment, he completely stilled his fingers inside you, moving them in a come hither motion, and you could see stars from how good it felt. The sensation almost sending you over the edge.

"Noah", your voice was completely wrecked, you couldn't keep quiet even if you tried.

"Yes, pretty girl", he regarded you, voice just as broken as yours.

"I'm gonna cum", you stopped what you were saying when his fingers reached a particular spot inside of you, making your head go blank for a second, until you remembered what you were after. "Can I cum? Please let me cum", you begged.

"You don't gotta ask, remember? Just make a mess all over my fingers"

That was all you needed to finally let the feeling take over your whole body. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers and you writhed on top of him. He kept the motions until the feeling was too much for you. He pulled out his fingers and rested his hands on your back.

Almost his whole hand felt wet on your skin, but you couldn't care less, your body was completely spent and you let yourself slump on top of him for a second to catch your breath.

Not too long after though, you started to make your way down his body, looking to pleasure him just like he did for you.

He complained and kept you in place with his hands on your hips.

"What are you doing?", he asked, voice a little groggy.

"Wanna make you feel good?", you thought it was obvious. Now was his turn.

"No, just stay here, please", you looked at him with a puzzled face. Surely he wasn't turning down a blowie, right?

"But I wanna make you cum", you stated. He opened his eyes and looked at you a little sheepishly.

"Already did, baby", he said with a little smile on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I just came in my pants from how hot you looked on top of me, begging to cum like that", he wasn't bashful or ashamed to admit this, but your cheeks flushed a little at his admission.

And sure enough, as you looked down, you saw a larger than normal wet patch on his sweatpants.

"Now, lay back down, please. Wanna feel you for a little longer before we gotta get up and clean ourselves"

You happily laid your head back down on his chest, feeling the most content you've felt in a while. You finally loved having sex again. You loved the way he made you feel even when his fingers weren't making you go completely mad from pleasure. You loved the way he focused on you and how good he was making you feel without looking for something in return.

You closed your eyes, and you had a feeling that neither one of you was getting up from this bed anytime soon.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [2] - Silk

A.N: Here's the new chapter my loves! ❤️ I hope you'll like it, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: Gifts can make good apologies.

Word Count: 3000

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don't condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well, if the blood splattered on your face was any sign, tonight was not going the way you had planned it to go.

“This is lotus silk!” you snapped, still wiping at the blood on your face while you motioned at your dress with your other hand. “Do you have any idea how impossible it is to remove blood stains from silk?”

Bucky motioned at his men and they scattered along the bar, some approaching Steve’s men–the undying friendship between Bucky and Steve had its effect on people on their payroll as well, since they tended to hang out together— while the rest checked around the restaurant. You knew you were supposed to go to Ethan to make sure he was okay, but Bucky’s voice distracted you before you could even take a step.

“You’re welcome.”

“I know you’re not familiar with the idea of spending time with women who are not in your bed or have their clothes on,” you said through your teeth, running your hand over the blood stain. “But in case you forgot, when people wear nice things on a night out, they usually want to keep them nice—"

“Come on, we’re going,” he said, grabbing your arm and you yanked it back.

“No!”

“Charm…”

“I’m taking Ethan to the hospital, that’s where I’m going,” you said and he pulled his brows together.

“What?” he asked, “Who’s Ethan?”

“What happened here?!” Steve’s voice reached you and you turned to see him walk into the bar.

“Hi Steve.”

“Please tell me that’s not your blood because if it is, your father will end the truce just to put a bullet in my head.”

“It’s not my blood,” you said sulkily, “Not that it matters, because it’s never getting off.”

“Buck?”

“I was passing by when I got the news,” he said. “Came as soon as I heard.”

 Steve looked around. “That man in the corner, he is one of the attackers?”

“Yeah,” you said and he nodded, then squeezed your shoulder in an assuring manner and approached his men. You huffed out and approached Ethan with Bucky following you.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked and Ethan swallowed thickly, then turned his head to take a look at the bleeding wound on his shoulder only to take a sharp breath.

“Okay, that’s a—that’s a bullet wound.”

“Congratulations, what is this your first time?” Bucky asked drily and you shot him a glare.

“Bucky!”

“What?” he asked. “It’s obviously not fatal, he’s being dramatic.”

“Hey, we’re taking the guy to the warehouse,” Steve said as his men dragged the only surviving attacker outside. “Charm, my men said you came without your usual bodyguards?”

“Yeah I ditched them.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose while Steve cleared his throat.

“Alright, I’ll have someone drive you to your father’s house—”

“I can take her, it’s fine.”

“Did you fire the gun too close to your ear or something? I said I’m not going anywhere with you,” you growled at Bucky and turned to Steve. “I’m going to the hospital.”

“You said it wasn’t your blood.”

“I’m taking Ethan,” you pointed at Ethan who waved weakly at Steve with his free hand from where he was sitting.

“Hi.”

Steve blinked a couple of times. “…Hello?”

“Is anyone going to tell me who the fuck this dude is?”

“He’s my friend!” you snapped at Bucky and Steve tilted his head, then took a look at Ethan.

“I don’t think I saw you around before, what family are you loyal to?”

“My—mine?” Ethan tried, stealing a look at you as if asking for a clue. “I mean I couldn’t attend the last Thanksgiving but—”

“He’s a civilian Steve, we know each other from college.”

Steve raised his brows and Bucky’s eyes widened before he let out a chuckle.

“Wait, just so I’m clear,” he said. “You went on a date with a civilian outside your father’s territory without bodyguards?”

“It’s not a date.”

“Isn’t it?” Ethan asked, making your head whip around.

“Is it?”

“Unbelievable…” Bucky muttered. “Outside your father’s territory, Charm? Where are you going for the next date, a sinking ship?”

“A corn maze probably—”

“You don’t have to talk to him,” you told Ethan and he nodded.

“Sorry, it’s my first time getting shot so I’m not sure how it goes—” he paused for a moment. “Hey quick question, am I gonna die?”

“You’ll be fine, we will take you to the hospital,” you assured him while Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Do you go to the hospital for a papercut as well, Ethan?”

You groaned. “Steve, make him stop!”

“Guys it’s not the time for this,” Steve said, ignoring Bucky’s smug smirk. “Charm, how about this? We’ll take him to the hospital, give him the usual story, and Bucky will take you home. No offense, but I don’t want your father to rain hellfire here the moment he hears you were in a shootout.”

You pursed your lips and thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Fine.”

“Wait, what story?” Ethan asked and Bucky waved a hand in the air.

“Oh you know, the story you will tell the cops or else they will find you in a dark alley.”

“Ah,” Ethan said, stealing a look at you. “He’s joking right?”

“No he’s not,” you said, checking your phone. “Steve’s men will fill you in. Steve, the hospital in Sam’s territory is closer to here actually, it’s a ten-minute drive and I think Sarah is working tonight.”

“Okay,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll let Sam know.”

“Come on princess,” Bucky said and you licked your lips.

“Ethan, they’ll take you to the hospital, is that okay?”

Ethan gave you a thumbs up and you shook your head slightly, then walked out of the bar with Bucky. One of his men opened the car door for you and you got in, fixing your dress and huffing out. Bucky got in as well, and the driver started the car.

You crossed your arms, stubbornly fixing your eyes on the window, watching the cars and buildings wheeze by while the car moved through the traffic. Your thoughts were spinning around in your head like a tornado while you tried to figure out who those men were and why they had attacked you at the risk of breaking the truce, especially considering that as far as everyone was concerned, you weren’t in the business. Your father had spent years keeping you out of it no matter how much you insisted to be a part of it, telling you that he didn’t want you in danger.

It hadn’t stopped him from making your cousin be a part of it though. Despite the fact that you were supposed to be the heir, he was the one who everyone assumed would take over once your father retired.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned your head to shoot him a glare, making him heave a sigh.

“Charm…”

“You ruined my dress!”

He ran a hand over his face, his vibranium arm glimmering under the street lights you passed by for a moment.

“My deepest apologies for not paying attention to your dress while saving you.”

“I didn’t need saving, and it’s lotus silk!” you insisted. “Do you have any idea how many stores Becca and I had to visit until we found a nice dress?”

“Strangely enough, my sister doesn’t tell me about your adventures in shopping on a daily basis,” he deadpanned. “And I take it Becca knew you were going on a date with a civilian?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“He thought it was a date,” Bucky pointed out. “Even while he was bleeding on the floor.”

“And what if it was a date?” you asked back and he shot you an almost chiding look.

“Civilians are a bad idea, Charm.”

A bitter smile curled your lips and you sat up straighter so that you could see him better.

“Oh good, I was just in the mood to get some romance advice from you,” you said. “Go on then. What does the perfect-heir-turned-boss think?

A shadow crossed his face for a second, but when he spoke his voice was completely calm.

“That you’re being too reckless.”

“What does it matter if I date a civilian or not?” you asked, almost daring him. “I’m not in the business, remember? Unlike you, I’m not going to get my family’s empire once my father decides to retire—”

“Aren’t you?” he cut you off and the sarcastic smile was wiped off of your face in a second, your heartbeat getting faster.

No way.

No God damn way.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, coaxing a small smile out of him. For perhaps the millionth time, you noticed just how handsome he was but the mere thought made you scowl.

Too bad he was an insufferable prick, handsome or not.

“Come on,” he taunted you. “We both know what I’m talking about.”

You paused for a moment, then turned your glances to the window to watch the road as the car reached the huge gates of your father’s estate. Bucky typed something into his phone, probably texting Steve, and you wiped at your face again just in case there was any dried blood before the car stopped by the huge mansion. The driver opened your car door and Bucky followed you as you climbed the marble stairs leading to the front door. You rang the doorbell, then bit at your fingernails.

“Miss,” the maid greeted you when she opened the door and you smiled at her.

“Hi Molly,” you said. “Where is my father?”

“In his office.”

“Thank you,” you said and nodded at Bucky so that he would come with you to the study. You knocked at the door and when you heard your father’s voice telling you to come in, you opened it.

“Hi daddy.”

“Hi sweeth—what happened?!” he stood up from his seat behind his desk and quickly made his way to you. Bucky closed the door behind you as you looked down at your poor dress, then shook your head when your father made his way to you to check you for injuries.

“It’s not my blood,” you said quickly. “Don’t worry.”

“Who did this?” your father asked, anger apparent in his voice as he turned to Bucky. “When did this happen? Bucky?”

“Arthur,” Bucky greeted him. “I wanted to come and give you the news myself, just in case. She’s completely fine—”

“Albeit very annoyed,” you interrupted him and Bucky repressed a smile.

“And very annoyed as you can see.”

“My dress is ruined,” you grumbled and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I’ll ask the next guy who holds you at gunpoint to take a couple of steps back before I blow his brains out, I promise.”

“Much appreciated,” you snarked back but your father raised a hand, motioning at you both to stop.

“At gunpoint—what happened?” he said. “Who broke the truce?”

“No one,” Bucky said. “I assure you. It happened in Steve’s territory, but they were not Steve’s people. We left one of them alive, he took him to the warehouse to question him.”

Your father ran a hand over his face.

“Steve’s territory?” he asked before turning to you. “Sweetheart, what were you doing in Steve’s territory?”

“I um…” you stumbled over your words. “I—you know, that’s actually a funny story—”

“Becca likes the cocktails there,” Bucky cut you off. “You two were going to meet there, right Y/N?”

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, then cleared your throat and nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said, turning to smile at your father. “Uh huh. Me and Becca.”

“Without bodyguards?”

“We wanted a girl’s night out,” you said, making your father shoot you a look. “Alright fine, before you give me yet another one-hour long speech about being careful, I’d like to get all this blood off of me, so can we postpone it after I take a very long bath and get some sleep?”

He heaved a sigh and nodded at you. “Go.”

“Yay!” you said and pressed a kiss on his cheek, then turned to Bucky. “You owe me a dress.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender as you walked to the door, then closed it behind you.  You stretched out before dragging your weary self up the stairs, and Molly approached you.

“Miss, I asked the girls to draw you a bubble bath.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” you said, “Would you mind—”

“Your plate of chocolate strawberries and glass of champagne are already there.”

You pressed a hand on your chest with a gasp.

“Molly you’re an angel, you know that?” you said, then blew her a kiss as you made your way through the hallway to the bathroom. “Thank you!”

                                        *

Considering how last night had gone, it was no wonder that exhaustion made you sleep like a rock. Though your dreams were in no way peaceful, your long bath had helped you relax just a little and it was only when someone knocked on the door that you woke up, a groan leaving your lips.

“Y/N?” your cousin’s voice reached inside the room, making a frown pinch your brows together. You rolled your eyes, then sat up in bed.

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

“If you must,” you grumbled as the door opened, and he stepped in. Unlike you, it was clear that he had been awake for a while which made you check the time on your phone, seeing multiple text messages from Becca before lifting your head to look at him.

“Ian,” you said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was going to wait until you woke up but it didn’t seem like you would,” he said. “Uncle informed me about what happened.”

“Of course he did.”

“You should have told me about it,” Ian said. “As soon as it happened. This is a family matter, why am I hearing about this after Barnes or Rogers?”

“It happened in Steve’s territory.” You shrugged your shoulders. “What, am I supposed to draw you a map of the city all of a sudden?”

“And what were you doing in Steve’s territory?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was meeting Becca.”

He crossed his arms. “I still think you shouldn’t be that close with them. They could turn into rivals with the snap of a finger, and the family—”

“Just because you don’t have any friends doesn’t mean the rest of the family should be company to that misery,” you cut him off. “Besides, they’re our allies and there’s truce remember?”

“For now,” he pointed out. “Doesn’t look like that truce will hold if it turns out that your attackers worked for any of the other families.”

“Well, those attackers were not working for Steve or Bucky.”

“Wilson?” he asked. “He’s their best friend after all.”

“Sam is too smart to break the truce.”

“Then it could be Stark or Romanoff.”

“Or none of the families,” you said. “Everyone spilled too much blood for this, they’re not just going to break it in a way that’s that amateur. Those guys were hired gun for outsiders, I’m almost sure of it.”

“Well I’m not so sure,” he said. “And honestly, I think you’re being too naïve.”

Anger shot through you like lightning but you managed to keep your expression calm.

“I know them way better than you do,” you said, your voice cold. “And if you think you can make business with people whom you point fingers at as soon as something unexpected happens, you’re the one being naïve, not me.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and you glared at him back until he heaved a sigh.

“I’ll talk to Rogers, we need to be the ones questioning the attacker. It’s an attack on not just you, but the family itself—”

“The attack happened in his territory, he’s not going to just give him to you,” you stated. “But by all means, don’t let me stop you from wasting your time.”

He opened his mouth to retort but someone else knocked on the door.

“Miss?”

“Molly, you can come in!” you called out and she opened the door. “Ian was just leaving.”

Ian shook his head slightly, then threw his shoulders back.

“Just don’t go to places without bodyguards—”

“Goodbye Ian,” you cut him off as you leaned back on the fluffy pillows and he scoffed, then walked out of the room. You pushed the covers off of you while Molly stepped inside with a rectangular box in her arms.

“What’s that?”

She put the box on the bed. “It was just delivered for you.”

You hummed as you pulled the box to yourself, then tugged the ribbon on top of it loose. A gasp left your lips as soon as you saw what was inside, and when you pulled the soft dress out of the box, the card inside caught your eye.

Sorry about your dress, princess.

Bucky

He had gotten you the exact same dress that you had thrown into trash last night. You were painfully aware of the smile pulling at your lips and you got off the bed, then walked to the full-length mirror to hold it over your body.

No.

No way.

Bucky was an asshole who had ripped your heart out when you two were younger, and now that he was one of the biggest mob bosses in the city with so much money, power and influence, he was even more arrogant than before, which was saying a lot. You were sure that this nice gesture was some sort of play and contrary to what all these men around you seemed to believe, you weren’t naïve in the slightest.

You pursed your lips together and cleared your throat before you put the dress back in the box, placing the cover on top.

“You can throw it away or give it to someone, I don’t want it,” you said as you handed Molly the box, and she let out a laugh.

“Secret admirer?”

“Not at all,” you said with a laugh, then flung yourself on the bed again. “Just a trick. I’m not his type, and trust me he’s definitely not my type.”

Chapter 3

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Which one do you want?

Just off a quiet highway somewhere in the Midwest, you might see James advertising my new product. He used to own this car dealership with his wife, but she's long gone. James hasn't thought about her since I pulled out my pendulum and put him in a trance. He just spends his days standing on the side of the road holding up that sign like I told him to.

You can see I marked him at 40 bucks, which is well over what he's worth, but I like to keep him around to advertise and flag down potential customers. His abs are visible even in the rain, and the neon underwear I put him in is sure to catch every driver's eye.

If you pull into my dealership, I'd be happy to show you my selection you can choose from...

Tyler, here, used to be my brother-in-law, but my sister dumped him real fast after she found the guy was a cheater. Since, he wasn't family anymore, I had no reason not to hypnotize every thought out of his head.

She has no idea I did this to her ex, but it won't hurt to have Tyler out of the picture for good. I like to give him a little punch in the gut every time I pass. It's my form of ongoing payback. He only ever reacts with a stifled groan since his mind is mush, but it's still cathartic to see him in pain.

Tyler will probably go fast since he's so traditionally handsome, but the vengeful part of me hopes a more sadistic client will take him off my hands.

Next is Caesar. This guy used to work at the auto garage next door, but when I saw him I knew I had to have him. He put on a real tough guy act when I introduced myself, but a pudgy working man like him should act accordingly in my opinion.

After introducing his gaze to my pendulum, he practically fell into my arms. I had my fun warping Ceasar's personality to be more like that of a submissive dog, but even that got a bit old. Sure, I made him love and cuddle me like the perfect partner, but he tracked mud everywhere and he always seemed to stink.

I hope whoever pays for him doesn't mind always telling the oaf to hose himself down every once in awhile. I suppose they could just use Ceasar for the cheap manual labor and just forget about his hygiene entirely.

This is Mike. He's a real piece of trash. I caught him trying to steal one of my cars in the middle of the night. He sure was shocked when my army of hypnotized hunks ran out and apprehended him, per my command.

He might look mean, but trust me, Mike's been thoroughly hypnotized and broken in just like every other dude on this lot. He wouldn't be standing there holding that 'For Sale' sign all day if he weren't!

Now, I know that his lack of hair might be a turn off for a lot of folks, so I'm willing to go down on the price. 20 dollars is already pretty low, but I want to make sure you all can afford your own hypnotized hunk. It's not like it's too difficult for me to go out and find a couple more idiots to fill their place. Hell, if you really need it, I might sell you a guy for a dollar!

This boy in blue is Lt. O'Riley. I don't know what his full name is. I'm just going off what it says on his badge. Now, I know that hypnotizing an officer of the law is risky, but O'Riley was being a real pain in my neck, always poking his nose in my business.

I hypnotized his partner too.

I think that guy's name was Brooks or something, but he was real ugly. I would've never been able to sell his fat ass, so I had him hand over his police uniform and turned him into my handyman, who's meant to be neither seen nor heard. He wears an old pair of dirty coveralls now and takes care of all the maintenance work. He's probably off scrubbing my housing from top to bottom right now since it's the middle of the day.

You could do that to officer O'Riley too, if you want, or maybe you keep that precious uniform on him. It's up to you.

This last guy is Don, and I know what you're going to say! I'm a little light on product at the moment, but don't worry.

I'm planning on driving into town real soon and restocking. Maybe I'll grab a few more officers this time. The police department is right down the street from that Halloween store. I could grab a couple more cops and put them in some stupid costumes.

Customers love a themed product, right?

Anyways, Don here didn't do anything to piss me off. He actually stopped in after seeing the sign. He wanted to purchase one of my brainless studs and pimp him out to all his friends for cheap cash. I liked the idea, but Don was far too handsome to just walk off my lot.

I offered to give him a tutorial of my hypnosis, and the guy naively agreed. His car has been collecting dust in the back ever since, and he's been added into the lineup of hot men standing for sale.

So, please come by if you're interested in taking any of these guys on a test drive! Let me know which one sparks your interest!

No need to be nervous.....unless you're a handsome man yourself. Then I might just have to use my pendulum on you!

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Okay.. hear me out the song 'Stick Season' by Noah Kahan... for a fic like her and spence break up and she can't move on from him...

Oh you mean my FAVORITE NOAH KAHAN SONG???

Absolutely girlboss.

It ended up being 3.5k, so please please enjoy!!

(it's a gn! fic btw)

You must have had yourself a change of heart like Halfway through the drive Because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign Kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right

Everyone in the BAU hated letting Spencer drive. It was a fact of the universe. It wasn’t because he was bad at it, in fact he was quite a good driver. But whenever he would drive, it was constant chatter, constant rambling, and sometimes, it would be in between NPR segments where Spencer would correct someone or pause to discuss interesting facts that he knew. 

So when Spencer offered to drive the team to the hotel across town, no one had the guts to say no. It was some random town in Vermont, in the middle of October, some weird string of murders throwing another small town into disarray. He was in the middle of describing the science behind why certain leaves change into certain colors when his voice died out.

They were at one of two stop lights in town and they were stopped at one of them. Spencer was looking diagonally across at some random coffee shop, and Derek could not, for the life of him, figure out why Spencer was looking over there. 

“Reid? Hello.” 

“It’s her.” 

“Who?” Derek followed his line of sight again and realized what Spencer was looking at, well, who he was looking at. 

You. 

“Oh my god. Isn’t that…” 

Spencer nodded his head. 

“Why is she…” 

Spencer just stared at you. “I don’t know.” 

You were now leaving the coffee shop, cup in hand and small brown bag in the other. Spencer could probably guess what was in both. 

“Green light Reid.” 

The two of them started to move again, but neither of them spoke on the way to the hotel. It was almost unbelievable that they hadn’t seen you in over two years and yet here you were, in some random town that had a serial killer. 

Now I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can't face And memories are somethin' even smoking weed does not replace And I am terrified of weather 'cause I see you when it rains Doc told me to travel, but there's COVID on the planes

“No no. Lucille. You don’t understand. He was like, nerdy hot. And I fucked up big time.” 

Lucille snorted and handed you the blunt in her hand. “My love, my life. I bet you, he was the problem.”

You scoffed and took a hit. “Yeah right.” 

Lucille raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “You’re not still in love with the guy are you?” 

“When you put it like that it makes me sound pathetic.” 

“Oh girl no, you are, aren't you.” 

You sighed and took another hit—a long inhale this time to compensate. 

“Sweetie, you are WAY too good for him.” 

You laughed. “Mr three PhDs, four Bachelors, and FBI? Yeah. I don’t think so.” 

“Weren’t you Mrs FBI?” 

“That’s Miss FBI to you. Mrs is reserved for happy married stupid people.” You grumbled and closed your eyes. 

“Wow.” 

“Wow What.” 

“He was really the one wasn’t he.” 

You nodded. “I really thought….god I’m so stupid.” You stood up and started pacing along the porch of your house. 

Once you and Spencer had broken up, you needed to get out of there. There had to be somewhere where he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t find you. So you closed your eyes and pointed to a random spot on the map. Then when you realized you pointed to Las Vegas, you sat down and wrote down what you knew about Spencer, then tried to find somewhere that he had the lowest percentage of going. 

And Fairlee seemed like the right place. There was nothing for him out here. 

Except for you. 

But Spencer didn’t feel that way. Not anymore at least.

You had taken up teaching, obtaining your teaching certificate up in Vermont and becoming one of ten teachers in the high school (which supported any child in a half hour radius). 

It wasn’t hunting down serial killers, but it was still fulfilling. 

That’s how you met Lucille. She was another teacher, in need of a roommate, and the rest is history. 

“You’re floating away again.” 

You snapped back to the conversation. “Sorry. Just. Really thought we were going to get married and be with each other and shit but.” 

“But?” 

“He wasn’t ready. You’d think three years knowing one another and being friends, and then another three years of dating would, you know. Add up to something.” 

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Lucille took your hand and squeezed it tightly. “He doesn’t deserve you.” 

“Yeah…maybe, I don’t know.” 

She squeezed it again. “Tonight’s the night Damian invited us all down to the bar to hang out, I know we said no but…might as well get free drinks out of a guy who will never get the hint. Free booze, boost of ego. You’re young, you’re hot.” 

“I see what you’re doing.” You smiled down at her. “But it’s raining and I’m not in the mood to get soaking wet just from walking from the house to the car then the car to the bar….”

“Pleaseeeee.” 

Just as you were about to answer, a pair of headlights turned onto your driveway. 

You’d know those stupid fucking headlights anywhere. 

“Who do we know that drives a black suburban?” 

Lucille shrugged. “I don’t think we know anyone who has one in town, why? Is that what the car is?” 

You nodded, your stomach dropping. 

“Luce. Hide the weed.” 

“Why, it's not Tom and you know he’s over here every—-“

“Now. Luce.” 

She furrowed her brows as the headlights stopped in front of the house. She quickly grabbed everything and went into the house. 

You stood on the porch, in your pajamas pants, and a sweatshirt, hands in the front porch. 

The car turned off and you watched as three figures got out of the car and walked up to the porch, freezing as they looked at you, the rain pouring down on them. 

“Why are you here Hotch?” 

The man was frozen,and he looked over at Emily, who was just as baffled to see you. 

“Y/n?” 

“Why are you here?” You asked again. 

“Why are you here?” 

“This is my home Em.” You stepped back a couple of steps and gestured for them to come up onto the porch so they don’t have to stand in the rain anymore. 

Spencer was silent the whole time, not taking his eyes off of you. 

The three of them moved up the porch and went towards the door, but you blocked them. 

“You need a warrant if you want to enter my house, Hotch. What are you doing here.” 

“We need to speak to Lucille Walkner.” 

“Why.” 

Emily raised her eyebrows, and crossed her arms. She was used to how stubborn you were, but being on the receiving end of it was something she was not a fan of. 

“It’s in regards to the string of murders y/n.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “I can guarantee you that I have been with Lucille every moment of every day for the past two weeks.” 

“We’re not accusing her, we’re just asking—“

You cut Emily off. “Asking her questions. Yeah. I know how this goes. In case you forgot or something. It hasn’t been that long. Why do you need to speak to her.” 

“Because she was the last person seen with the most recent victim.” 

You looked at Spencer for the first time since he got here. “So was I. But somehow you failed to mention that as well. You’re losing your grip, Doctor.” 

The group had never heard your voice so flat, so strict, so full of disdain. It was easy for you to treat him like he was the villain. He felt like one. He was one. 

“Y/n.” 

You broke your staring contest with Spencer and looked over at Hotch. “Get a warrant and come back tomorrow.” 

And with that you walked into your house and locked the door behind you. Feeling a bit more bitter than usual, you turned off the porch light too.

They all stood out there. Dumbfounded. 

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now your tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

When the BAU showed up at your door with the proper paperwork the next morning, both you and your roommate were at work, twenty minutes away. 

Your sense of humor still intact since you managed to leave a sticky note for them: 

At work. home by 4.

But that didn’t stop the caped crusaders of the BAU. 

When they showed up at the school to interview you and your roommate, Lucille went first, recounting the night all three of you went out to one of three bars in the town, and then when you offered to drive her home, she insisted on calling her own roommate. When you watched her get into her roommate's car, the both of you went home. 

When you recounted the same exact story, you both were released for the day. 

“Heard you were a pain in the ass yesterday.” 

You stopped in the hallway and turned around, facing Derek Morgan. “What do you want, Agent.” 

“Woah woah what’s with the formalities.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Derek. I’m really not in the mood. I fit the victimology of the asshole on a murder spree, and the team acted like I didn’t fucking know that. I’ve also realized you haven’t connected the fact that all of them are dating or sleeping with the police force.” 

“All? We only knew two of the five—“

“Because half of them don’t want to admit that they’re cheating on their wives, and the other half don’t want to admit they’re dating anyone regardless of marital status. Not a single one of the victims were married.”

Derek just stared at you. “Touchy subject?” 

You closed your eyes. “I still have a gun license Derek. Don’t make me use it.” 

“Too soon?” 

“Yeah Derek. Too soon.” You sighed as he pulled you into a hug. 

“We miss you y’a know. It’s not the same.” 

“I’m sure.” You squeezed him tightly. 

“And I’m serious. We haven’t found anyone nearly as good as you have been.” He whispered, kissing your head. “Your desk is still empty. Hotch won’t let anyone sit there. I think he’s hoping you’d come back. I think we all are.” 

“I can’t even look at him and it’s been two years” you whispered trying not to cry. 

“I know.” He just squeezed you. “I know.” 

“God I just….”

Derek pulled you into an empty classroom the second he felt your body tense up. There was one thing you hated more than crying, and it was crying in public. Once the door to the classroom was closed, he pulled you back into the hug, letting your tears pour down his shoulder.

“God I thought I’d never have to see you people again.” 

Derek chuckled. “Clearly you didn’t read your contract. It’s required that you’re supposed to see me at least seven times a year and if you don’t, I hunt you down.” 

You laughed through your tears and sat down on one of the desks. “You wish.” 

“I do.” 

“Be serious Derek.” 

“I am.” 

You sighed and looked up at him. “Well. Now you know where I am so. Come and visit me I guess.” 

“Oh I plan on it gorgeous.” 

You used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe away some of the tears still clinging to your cheeks. 

“He misses you too.” 

“Derek….”

He knew it ws dangerous territory, but he had to let you know—He needed you to know how it was affecting everyone, even though it’s been two years. “He does.” 

“Why would you tell me that Derek.”  

“You have to–

“Have to what Derek. I don’t wan—that’s a lie. What I would fucking give to be back in DC; back at the FBI. But I can’t do it Derek. I can’t go back.” 

“But–”

“No.” You backed away from him, out of his arms. “I’m not going back.”

“Please.” Derek watched as your back straightened and your eyes hardened. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were just starting to move on. Fuck. He watched as you closed yourself off again. 

“Do you need anything else agent or can I go.” 

“Y/n…”

“Then goodbye Agent Morgan.” 

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever now you still can't call me back

Unexpectedly, but expectedly, the killer was caught. He was some sort of religious nut who had decided that “immoral sinners” be put in your place. 

That was something you did not miss: the misogynistic murderers. 

But the BAU was getting ready to leave. You were grateful that they had come and protected the community you had grown so close to, but the thought of them knowing where you were made you nervous. 

You knew Penelope most likely tracked you from time to time, and you weren’t trying to live completely off the grid/untraceable. But seeing them in person, watching them run around your town, was nerve-wracking. 

Seeing Spencer fucked you up the most though. 

He looked okay; or better than you at least. He was completely and utterly okay, and it bugged the shit out of you. How could he be okay, how could he move on and be happy without you, while you are stuck still trying to locate the remaining pieces of your shattered heart.

To Spencer, you were a wonderful experience. But to you, Spencer was everything. 

The BAU had left, no goodbyes were in order since you had fulfilled your goal of attempting to burn every bridge you had. It was painful, but you just couldn't help it. They reminded you of Spencer. Everything reminded you of Spencer. 

Lucille watched as you slowly transformed back into that lost person from two years ago. Your smile never reached your eyes. You drank just enough to be concerning, but not enough to continuously push the boundaries of alcoholism. Your face was pale. You never laughed or cracked jokes any more. 

All you could do was think of Spencer. Waking up next to him, his arms around your waist. The smell of his apartment, the rides to work, the glances from your desk to his desk. It was all just too painful. 

There were moments where you would pick up your phone and sometimes it felt like the world was against you. Derek posted a picture from some sort of day off, and suddenly you didn’t follow him anymore. Or, if you opened NPR, Doctor Spencer Reid was the headliner in a speaker series at Georgetown in blah blah blah. So you stopped listening to the radio. 

Every since he stepped out of the car in your drive you, you’ve wanted to call him. You’ve wanted to hear him speak to you like he did, to love you like he did. You wanted to call him and hear him apologize and tell you everything was going to be okay and this was all just a big misunderstanding and you were his forever. 

But you had a feeling that if you called, he wouldn’t pick up. 

Oh, that'll have to do My other half was you I hope this pain's just passin' through But I doubt it

One Year Later…

Time flies. Leaves change. Life moves on. 

But suddenly it's back to October and you find yourself in a new town, somewhere completely different. Another fresh start. Maybe this one will stick. 

But then you get a call.  

And it’s from Erin Strauss, offering you your job back, and your hesitation gave her all of the information she wanted to hear. You had three days to make a decision. 

Do you continue to run from place to place, hoping and praying that maybe someday you’d be able to feel like you deserved to be loved again. Hoping that someday someone might actually want to stay. They might want you to stay. 

Do you stay in this new town, and get attached to the people, making new friends, reminding you of the old ones, and hoping that it will be enough to fill the holes in your skin. 

Do you continue to teach. Do you continue to shape minds even though it’s not something you had ever dreamed of doing. Especially when it feels like you’re trying to force your body into loving something it doesn’t. 

Or

Do you go back to the FBI–the BAU.

Do you ignite the flame in your chest and let yourself enjoy the chase. LEt yourself be happy with your job and treasure every moment you get to catch the bad guy. 

Do you accept the job and move back to the desk you belong at, surrounded by your friends. Once again in a building you call home, letting your guard down for the first time in three years. 

Do you let your guard down and talk to Spencer and watch yourself undo all of the progress you had made. Watch as your resolve crumbles and your heart aches and you can;t even breathe around him because it hurts to see him. 

Do you give up and follow him around like some lost puppy and beg for him to take you back so maybe you’ll be able to melt your waxen heart and be happy again. 

You don’t take the job. You never hear from Erin Strauss again. 

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now your tire tracks and one pair of shoes

Sometimes in your sleep, you can see what your wedding would have looked like. The venue, the florals, your outfits and shoes. Your closest friends and family by your side as you commit your soul to be bound to his. 

But every time you get to the I Do’s, Spencer says yes. 

It hurts because you never even made it that far. 

You didn’t even get an engagement ring. 

All you got were pitiful looks and sympathetic glances while Spencer rambled on about how much he didn’t understand marriage or want children–not that you did, but you would have liked for it to have been a discussion between the two of you. 

You would have liked a lot of things. 

Sometimes, in your dreams, Spencer proposes. 

It never leaves your mind, watching as he publicly declares his love for you. Apparently, that was too much to ask for. 

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do Have to do

The pain of waiting to be loved feels like you’ve but split down the middle, letting yourself melt apart. The skin, no matter how hard you try, can never be stitched back together, and even if you manage to get some back, it scars over, reminding you for the rest of your life how unloveable you feel. 

Maybe you’ll get lucky and someday you can learn to live with never being truly whole again. 

Since Spencer owns half of you, and you will never be whole without him.

Part 2

[lacydollette]

⋆˙⟡ BLESSING IN DISGUISE ⋆˙⟡

CHAPTER FIVE

PAIRING lovely kook!reader x rafe cameron

WARNING(S) highly sensitive content, mentions of alcohol, sexual assault, inappropriate touching, mentions of attempted r*pe, blood, explicit language, heavy angst

SUMMARY desperate to drown out any lingering thoughts of Rafe, you hadn’t expected to find yourself in another man’s arms. You told yourself it was a distraction, a fleeting moment to escape the chaos in your mind, but deep down, you knew the truth—these arms were never meant to comfort you.

The glow of your phone lit up the dark room. 1:49 a.m. Your chest felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and your mind wouldn’t shut up. All you could hear was Rafe’s voice from earlier—sharp, angry, broken. It was like every word he’d yelled at you during midsummer was on repeat in your brain. You couldn’t stop seeing the way his face twisted when you walked away. And when you caught yourself in Barry’s grimy mirror later? You looked just as wrecked as he did.

Your chest tightened. There was no way you could stay in this bed.

You grabbed a hoodie from the back of your chair, slid on some sneakers, and crept downstairs, careful not to wake anyone. The air was cool but not cold. Your feet moved on autopilot, carrying you down the sidewalk, the streetlights buzzing faintly above. Just ahead, the glow of a gas station broke up the dark landscape, its sign flickering faintly. You noticed someone stepping out of the store just as you passed under a streetlight.

“y/n?”

You froze, squinting toward the familiar voice. Nate. The guy you had just reconnected with earlier. He was cradling a brown paper bag, the outline of a bottle inside unmistakable. His leather jacket hung loose over his shoulders, hair a bit messy. “What’re you doing out here alone?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity. You shrugged, stuffing your hands into the hoodie. “Couldn’t sleep. Needed to clear my head.”

“Middle of the night stroll, huh?” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he held up the bag with a knowing smirk. “I was gonna take this bad boy to the pier. Thought I’d kill it by myself…but, care to join?” You hesitated, every rational part of you was screaming to say no, to keep walking. But the thought of going back to your bed, back to your restless thoughts and empty house, you just couldn’t. You glanced at Nate again and decided you could use the distraction.

“Sure,” you replied with a small grin. “Cool.” He motioned toward his car parked at the side of the station, an old beat-up sedan with one working headlight. The car smelled faintly of cologne and weed, soft R&B playing from the speakers. He handed you the bottle, already uncapped.

“To forgetting the night,” he said, raising an invisible toast before taking a long sip. You hesitated again but followed his lead, the burn of the liquor spreading quickly through your chest. It was cheap, harsh, and exactly what you needed.

The drive was quiet at first, if not for the music. Nate hummed along under his breath, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. Occasionally, he glanced your way, though his gaze lingered a little too long for your liking. You ignored it, staring out at the empty streets, the faint outline of the pier growing closer.

“Man, you’re quiet,” Nate said after a while, breaking the silence. “What’s eating you up?” You shrugged. “Nothing worth talking about.”

“Guess we’ll just let the booze do the talking.” he replied, his tone light but his eyes searching. You forced a small laugh, taking another sip from the bottle he’d handed you. It was easier than explaining everything—Rafe’s words, your guilt, the endless replay of memories you wanted to end.

Nate shifted in his seat, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for the bottle. You noticed the way his fingers grazed yours deliberately, his knuckles brushing against your thigh as he took it. Your stomach twisted—not in nervousness but in awareness.

Soon the pier came into view, the empty space lit dimly. Nate pulled into a space near the edge, cutting the engine. The music continued to play softly in the background, the waves crashing faintly in the distance.

���Let’s make this night worth it,” Nate said, grabbing the bottle and stepping out of the car. You followed reluctantly, the cold air wrapping around you as the two of you walked toward the railing. You leaned against it, staring out at the dark water, the horizon barely visible in the moonlight. Nate stood close, too close, and you could feel his eyes on you again.

“So,” he said, his voice low and insistent. “What’s really going on? You don’t just go wandering around in the middle of the night for no reason.” You tightened your arms around yourself, reluctant to answer. Nate’s expectant gaze weighed on you. “It’s nothing,” you said, voice quiet but firm. “I told you—I just needed to clear my head.”

“You’re not a good liar,” Nate said with a knowing smirk, inching closer. His presence felt heavier now, more deliberate. “Come on, I get it. It’s about Rafe, isnt it?”

The mention of Rafe made you flinch. You didn’t want to discuss this—especially not with Nate. They had history, and not the kind you wanted to think about. Back when you’d first started seeing Rafe in a more serious way, Nate had made his interest in you painfully clear, even after you’d started dating Rafe. And the tension between them had been on edge ever since.

“I don’t want to talk about Rafe,” you said carefully. “Why not?” Nate pressed, his grin fading. “It’s obvious he’s part of whatever’s got you all twisted up. I mean, I’ve been saying it for years—” He paused, his voice hardening. “You deserve better than him.” Your jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Nate’s tone turned mocking, laced with bitterness. “I know enough. The guy’s got a temper, right? Walks around like the world owes him something. And you’re always the one stuck picking up the pieces.”

“Stop,” you said sharply, “You don’t get it.” your voice rising despite trying to stay calm. “Then explain it to me.” Nate stepped closer, his gaze boring into yours. His voice softened, coaxing. “Look, I’m just trying to help. Talk to me.”

You hesitated, caught between wanting to keep your guard up and the suffocating need to unburden yourself. The words felt heavy on your tongue, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled out.

“I don’t know if Rafe and I can ever fix this,” you admitted, voice breaking. “He says things, and I—I don’t know what he’s thinking. But I know it’s my fault, too. I’ve hurt him, and I don’t know how to make it right. And now it feels like… like we’re both just waiting for the other to give up.”

The confession left you feeling exposed, raw. You avoided Nate’s gaze, afraid of what you might see there. But his response wasn’t what you expected. “That’s bullshit,” he said bluntly. Your head snapped up, brows knitting in confusion.“What?”

“You’re beating yourself up over him?” Nate shook his head, his expression somewhere between disbelief and annoyance. “Look, y/n, I’m gonna be real with you. You’re wasting your time on Rafe. He doesn’t deserve you. Never has.”

“That’s not fair,” you said, voice trembling with anger. “No, what’s not fair is you bending over backward for a guy who’s too wrapped up in his own issues to see what he’s got right in front of him.” Nate’s voice softened again, his tone almost tender. “You need someone who actually appreciates you. Someone who doesn’t make you feel like this.”

You stepped back slightly, feeling uncomfortable by the intensity of his gaze. He took a small step forward, closing the space between you again. “Nate—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, but it sent a shiver down your spine. His touch lingered, fingers skimming your elbow before pulling away.

Your pulse quickened, taking another step back, but the railing pressed against your lower back, trapping you in place. Nate noticed your hesitation but didn’t stop. He moved closer, his larger frame towering over you. “You don’t have to put up with this, you know,” he murmured, his hand brushing against yours on the railing. His fingers curled slightly, as though testing the waters. “I could—”

“I think we should go,” you cut in, voice sharp and strained. Your heart began to race as you felt Nate's hand brush your waist, staying there. A strange feeling settled over your mind, the alcohol you had sipped earlier hitting harder now. Your legs felt unsteady, your surroundings wavering slightly as you tried to keep your balance.

"Feeling alright?" Nate murmured, leaning closer. His voice had shifted into something slick and predatory, sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could answer, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered something vile, his words dripping with a casual cruelty that turned your stomach.

"You always act so high and mighty," he hissed. "But I know you've thought about it..About me." Before you could pull back, his lips brushed against your jaw, wet and possessive.

"Stop!" You exclaimed, shoving him back with all your strength. Your pulse pounding in your ears as your vision blurred. Nate stumbled back, his face twisting with something between amusement and annoyance.

You immediately took the opportunity to dart past him, fingers trembling as you clutched your phone. Your instincts screamed at you to run, but your feet wouldn't let you. You fumbled with your phone, barely able to type out a desperate text to the first person who came to mind.

Help.

You sent your location to Rafe without thinking twice, heart pounding as you pressed send. You prayed he'd see it, prayed he'd come. But then—footsteps. Quick, deliberate steps behind you.

Panic rushed through you as you quickened your pace, but before you could go far his hand grabbed you, yanking you back with brutal force. You gasped as Nate slammed you against the rough bark of a tree, the impact knocking the air out of your lungs.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Nate, stop!" You pleaded, voice cracking as tears welled up in your eyes. But his grip only tightened, his fingers biting into your arms as he pressed his body against yours. "You don't get it, do you?" he muttered, his tone almost apologetic, as if he believed what he was doing was justified.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Really. But if you don't see it, if you don't feel it, then I have to make you understand." You thrashed against him, panic clawing at your throat as his hands roamed over your body, invasive and rough. "Stop it! Let me go!" You cried out, but Nate didn't listen.

You squirmed, desperate to push him away, but his body pinned you against the tree, his weight making it impossible to move. “Come on,” he murmured, his tone softening in a way that made you tremble. “You’ll feel better if you just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

“No!” You whimpered, voice rising with panic. You tried to twist away from him, but he grabbed your wrists, trapping them above your head with one hand as the other slipped beneath your sweater. The cold air against your bare skin made you realize just how vulnerable you were, and a sick wave of disgust crashed over you as his fingers trailed up your belly. “Please, Nate, don’t—”

“Shh,” he murmured, cutting you off as his hand reached your boobs. Your mind raced, thoughts spiraling as you came to a horrifying realization: he wasn’t going to stop. No matter how much you pleaded, no matter how much you fought, he was going to take what he wanted.

Tears streamed down your face as you gasped for air, the weight of his body crushing your soul as much as your body. “Don’t fight it,” he muttered, fumbling with his belt. The metallic clink sent a wave of nausea through you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what was coming.

But then, just as quickly as he’d overpowered you, Nate was ripped away, your body sinking to it’s knees and opening your eyes just in time to see him hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Your vision was blurred with tears, but there was no doubt that the figure standing between you and Nate was none other than Rafe. Relief flooded through you, mixed with the lingering terror. Rafe's chest was heaving with rage, his fists clenched as he hovered over Nate, Rafe’s vision tunneled in on him, lying there as if he had any right to move after what he'd tried to do.

"You sick piece of shit," Rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous.He grabbed Nate by the front of his shirt, pulling him up before slamming him back down to the ground. Nate gasped in pain, blood trickling from a split lip as he struggled weakly against Rafe's grip, but it was useless. Blood streamed from his mouth as Rafe's fist connected with his face again, over and over.

You could barely process what was happening, the adrenaline coursing through you making everything feel distant and surreal. "Rafe, stop," you managed to breathe out. But he didn’t hear you. His rage was consuming him. The sight of blood streaking Nate's skin should have been enough, but it wasn't. Rafe couldn't stop. He needed to finish this.

"You think you can touch her?" Rafe growled, his voice shaking with anger. "You think you can hurt her and just walk away?"

"Stop!" You cried, louder this time, forcing yourself to move, your legs unsteady as you stumbled toward them.

Just then your voice managed to cut through Rafe's rage. He froze, his fist still raised, his breathing ragged as he looked back at you. Your tear stained face and the look of pure fear in your eyes making his chest hurt. "Please," you whispered, tears rolling down your face. "Just stop."

Rafe’s hand lowered slowly, his expression torn as he glanced between you and Nate, who was now barely conscious on the ground. Rafe turned to you, his eyes filled with concern, raw and vulnerable. “Are you okay?"

You nodded, but he knew you were lying. He took a step closer, his hands hovering near your shoulders not sure if you’d let him touch you. "Did he-" Rafe's voice broke, his jaw tightening as he struggled to finish the question. Just the thought of Nate touching you drove him insane.

"No," you said quickly, "You got here in time." His shoulders sagged with relief, but the fire in his eyes reignited as he glanced back at Nate, who was still lying on the ground. "You're lucky she stopped me or you’d be dead by now.” Rafe muttered darkly, his tone promising that this wasn't over.

You reached out, grabbing his arm to pull him back. “Let's just go," you begged. "Please." Rafe looked at you, his expression torn. Every part of him screamed to stay, to finish what he'd started. But when his eyes met yours, pleading and afraid, he felt the anger crack. He scooped you into his arms without a word, his movements gentle as he took you away from the scene, leaving Nate broken and bleeding in the dirt.

He carried you to his truck as if you weighed nothing, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap.. His knuckles were still bloody, the deep red color smudged across his skin and clothing. Every time your eyes flicked to them, your stomach twisted.

Rafe placed you carefully on the passenger seat, buckling you in with trembling hands. He paused for a moment, his fingers brushing your hand as his gaze searched your face. There was no need for words; the raw concern in his eyes said everything.

His truck sped down the empty streets, headlights cutting through the darkness, but neither of you spoke. You just glanced at him, fingers curling tightly into your sweater. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, the same hands that had pressed Nate into the ground only moments ago.

Anger still simmered under his skin, but it wasn't just rage. It was hatred—for Nate, for the way he'd made you feel, for the fear in your eyes. But there was also something deeper. Guilt. He could still feel the weight of your voice cutting through his rage, the way you'd pulled him back from the edge. It left him with the horrifying thought that if you hadn't, he might not have stopped.

Every so often, his eyes flicked to you. You were curled into yourself, clutching your sweater. Your voice felt trapped in your throat, every word you wanted to say crumbling under the weight of the silence. You kept your gaze forward, the streetlights blurring past the window as your mind replayed everything.

The way Nate’s hands had felt on you. The hopelessness. The fear. And then Rafe—storming in, tearing through the nightmare before it could take over you.

When you finally pulled up to your house, you let out a small breath of relief. The familiarity of your neighborhood brought a slight calmness to you, though it didn’t erase the events of the night.

Rafe parked the truck and turned the engine off, not hesitating to step out and circle around to your side of the truck. Your legs still felt unsteady as you slid out of the truck, the cold air making you shiver. Rafe was beside you in an instant, his hand hovering near your lower back as you made your way up the short path to the door.

When you stopped at the threshold, Rafe’s gaze fell on you, taking in the way you fidgeted with your sweater, your eyes refusing to meet his. His chest tightened. You were still scared—of the night, maybe of him. He hated that thought more than anything.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For everything. Really.”

Rafe didn’t respond right away, his eyes locked on yours. What was there to say? That he wished he’d done more? That he wished he’d gotten there before Nate even had the chance to look at you, let alone touch you? His silence stretched as he looked at you, his expression conflicted. You stepped back, fingers brushing the doorknob. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Fine? How could you be fine after what had just happened? “I’m not leaving.” his voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Your heart stuttered at his tone, the familiar protectiveness you hadn’t felt in so long washing over you like a wave. “You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he added, his voice softening just a bit. “I need to know you’re safe.”

The sincerity in his words made something warm bloom in your chest. It felt like the Rafe you used to know—the Rafe who made you feel like nothing bad could ever happen to you when he was around.

“Okay,” you whispered, opening the door and stepping inside. He followed close behind, careful to keep quiet as you moved through the dark hallway. You glanced over your shoulder, your nerves prickling at the thought of your parents waking up. If they saw Rafe in their house, there would be a warzone in no time.

When you reached your room, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, flicking on the small lamp on your nightstand. The warm glow illuminated the soft pink walls and cluttered desk, the familiar space offering you a small sense of comfort. Rafe lingered near the doorway, his tall frame taking up too much space. He looked out of place in your room, eventhough he’d been there a thousand times before, but now it felt strangely foreign to him.

“Sit down,” you said, your voice breaking through his thoughts, gesturing to the small chair by your desk. He hesitated before nodding, sinking into the chair with a quiet exhale. You perched on the edge of your bed, pulling your knees up to your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself. His eyes locked on you as you perched on the bed, curling into yourself. You looked so small, so fragile, and the sight made his heart ache.

His knuckles were still bloody, the dried red fluid a hard contrast against his pale skin. “You’re shaking,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll be okay,” you replied automatically, though your trembling hands betrayed your words. And Rafe certainly wasn’t convinced. He ran a hand through his hair. “I should’ve been there sooner.”

“Rafe—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice sharp. “This shouldn’t have happened. I should’ve protected you.” His words hung heavy in the air, a mixture of guilt and anger laced into every syllable. You swallowed hard, chest tightening. “You saved me,” you said, voice quiet but firm. “That’s what matters.”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the weight of everything unspoken filling the space between you. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something close to safe in his presence. There was no judgment, no blame—just trust. It was the same look you used to give him, the one that told him you believed he could do anything.

But it wasn’t enough to ease the storm inside him. He got up, pacing around your room, his fists clenching and unclenching as anger radiated off of him in waves. You watched him from your spot on the bed, heart aching at the sight of him beating himself up. His knuckles were raw, streaks of dried blood on his hands and shirt.

“This is on me,” he muttered, his voice rough. “I should’ve gotten there faster. I should’ve known—”

“Rafe,” you interrupted him again. He didn’t stop. “I shouldn’t have let you walk away tonight. Hell, I shouldn’t have let you walk away months ago. If I’d been there—”

“Stop,” you said more insistently, standing up as his pacing grew more erratic. You stepped in front of him, your small frame blocking his path, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Rafe, stop blaming yourself. Please.”

His chest rose and fell sharply, his eyes darting everywhere but your face. “I could’ve done more. I should’ve done more.” His voice cracked on the last word, his anger turning inward, heavy and consuming.

“You did everything,” you said, “You were there when I needed you the most.” You stepped closer, hands coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “This is not your fault.”

His eyes finally met yours, and you could see the storm raging within them. For all the anger he’d directed at Nate, he was now punishing himself. You gave him a small, sad smile, thumbs brushing against his shirt, grounding him. “You’re more than enough. You’ve always been enough.”

Rafe’s jaw tensed, his hands flexing at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Your words shattered something inside him, breaking through the wall of anger and guilt he’d been hiding behind. “y/n…” You cut him off with a gentle shake of your head. “Sit down,” you said softly, guiding him toward the bed. “Let me take care of you for once.”

Rafe hesitated but allowed you to push him down onto the edge of the bed. His broad shoulders slumped as he sat, his head falling into his hands. You turned away, stepping into your small adjoining bathroom to grab disinfectant and bandages.

When you returned, you knelt on the floor in front of him, your movements careful and precise. Rafe lifted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as you settled between his legs, not able to tear his eyes away from you. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Patching you up,” you replied simply, your eyes focused on his battered hands. You gently reached for his right hand, your touch featherlight, and began cleaning the dried blood from his knuckles. Rafe winced slightly at the sting of the disinfectant, but he didn’t pull away. His gaze lingered on you as you worked.

Your fingers were soft against his rough skin, your touch soothing in a way that made his anger and guilt begin to fade. The tension in his shoulders eased as he watched you, his heart aching at how much you cared about him—and realizing how much he’d always care about you.

Rafe’s hand tightened slightly in yours, and you glanced up again, your heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at you. His eyes had softened, the hard edges of his expression melting into something tender. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked, the air between you two thick with unspoken emotions. It felt like time slowed, the world around you fading away until it was just the two of you, souls brushing against one another like they used to.

As you finished wrapping his hand, your fingers lingered on his now-bandaged knuckles before you set the supplies aside. You straightened up slightly, knees brushing against his as you stayed between his legs. Rafe tilted his head up to look at you, his gaze steady. His hands rested on his thighs, but you could feel the tension in him, the restraint he was holding onto, afraid of rejection.

Without thinking, you reached for him. Your fingers were soft as they cupped his jaw, thumb brushing lightly against the stubble on his cheek. Rafe’s breath hitched, his eyes widening at the unexpected gesture. Your breath was unsteady, hands still resting on Rafe’s jaw as your face lingered just inches from his. Your heart pounded in your chest, the warmth of him so familiar, so tempting. Your gaze dropped to his lips, and for a moment, you felt yourself leaning in.

But then you froze.

The weight of everything—your fears, the night’s events, and the fragile place you were in—came crashing down all at once. You weren’t ready for this. Not yet.

You pulled back, your hands falling away from his face as you took a shaky step out from between his legs. Rafe immediately felt the loss of your closeness, the ache in his chest deepening as he caught the flicker of hesitation in your eyes.

“I—I should get some rest,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe stood up, his expression softening despite the sting of your rejection. He nodded, stepping back to give you space. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You need to rest.”

The way his gaze lingered on you made your heart squeeze. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t pushing for anything more. He just looked… worried. Protective. Rafe gestured toward the bed. “Go change and then I’ll tuck you in,” he said, his voice low and soothing.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. You disappeared into the bathroom, quickly changing into a pair of clean pajamas. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, your reflection showed a girl who was exhausted, shaken, but safe. Because of him.

When you returned, you climbed into the bed, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders. The warmth of your bed was now comforting, but the weight of the night still lingered in your chest.

Rafe watched you as you settled in, his eyes softening at the sight of you cuddled up beneath the covers. Your eyelids were heavy, fluttering shut for a moment, your exhaustion finally catching up to you. Rafe hesitated to move, his feet rooted to the floor. Then, almost instinctively, he waddled to the other side of your bed and sat down on the edge, careful not to disturb you. Your eyes fluttered open briefly, brows furrowing in confusion. “Rafe…?”

“I’m not leaving,” he said simply, his voice firm but quiet. “I’m here.”You let out a soft sigh, eyes slipping closed again, knowing you weren’t alone. Rafe stayed there, perched on the edge of your bed, his posture tense as he watched over you. He couldn’t bring himself to leave, not when you were finally starting to relax, breathing evening out as you drifted toward sleep.

His mind raced with thoughts of what could have happened, how close he’d come to losing you. He needed to know you were safe, even if it meant sitting here all night. The room was quiet except for the sound of your steady breathing. As the hours ticked by, Rafe glanced out the window, knowing that by the time your parents woke up, he would have to be gone. Your paths would separate once again, just as they always seemed to.

But for now, he stayed. For now, he couldn’t bear to leave your side.

LINKS .ᐟ series masterlist

TAGS .ᐟ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @starkeysprincess @starzify @drewspinkbunny @whinyangel @dolcekissy @rafescokewhore @rafesangelita @rafesweetie @rafeslacy @rafesfawn @rafey-baby @nativegirltapes @maybanksbaby @httpsdrewstarkey @ayy1234567 @cherrygirlfriend @sematarygirls @maybankslover @lilithblackkk

[lachencha]

Second Shift: Mouthwashing Anya x Reader

hi guys! ^_^

hope you guys are doing well, here i bring to you another anya x reader! i based this one off my coworker, who misses her dear husband who works on…second shift. but like i think that’s so cute bc that means love isn’t dead 🥹 but i love anya so like i made this about her lol

only warning i have is for a little makeout sesh at the last few paragraphs, but nothing graphic!

anyways please enjoy!

also on my ao3!

Anya sighs as she swipes her employee ID through the time clock, eager to wrap up her shift and go home for the weekend. She hurries to her car, the cool midnight breeze biting at her skin—a strong reminder that she had forgotten to bring a jacket, despite your gentle warning earlier. You always remind her how chilly the nights can get, also scolding her lightly when she asks for "just one more kiss" before dashing out the door.

But tonight marks the end of her stint on the second shift, and on Monday, she'll return to first shift—no longer settling for hurried kisses and a quick "I love you" as you hand her a carefully packed lunch bag. She's already looking forward to reclaiming those cozy evenings on the couch, wrapped in your arms as you both indulge yourselves to a favorite show. Anya isn't sure how her coworkers manage such schedules with their partners, but she knows she couldn't endure another week of this. Maybe it's a touch of codependency, but she prefers to think of it as being hopelessly in love.

Driving home, she passes a string of restaurants, their neon signs catching her eye. The temptation to pull in and grab something quick passes through her mind, but she knows there's a plate waiting for her at home. And truthfully, if it comes down to a choice, she'd pick your cooking over takeout any day.

When she pulls into the driveway, the warm glow of the porch light greets her, filling her chest with an inexplicable comfort. You must have left it on for her. She steps inside, closing the door with a practiced quietness to avoid waking you.

Setting her lunch bag on the counter, she unpacks the empty Tupperware and spoons, placing them in the sink before wiping the bag clean. She's never been the type to pack lunch for work, but you've always taken it upon yourself to prepare meals for her, tucking them neatly into containers for her to take to work. It's a small gesture, but one she cherishes deeply, knowing you take time out of your busy day just for her.

Though cooking isn't her strong suit, she has her own ways of showing her love. Every morning at 4 a.m., she wakes up early to brew you a fresh pot of coffee before you head to work. Those brief moments are precious to her—sharing a small conversation as you vent about your boss or coworkers, hoping her goodbye kiss might make your day just a little brighter.

She heats up the dinner you left for her, the microwave humming softly in the quiet house. With her plate in hand, she flicks on the TV. After all, who eats alone without something to watch?

After finishing her meal, she tiptoes into the bedroom, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before slipping into the bathroom to shower. The warm water cascades over her, washing away the weight of the day, the warm water soothing her tired muscles, lingering longer than usual.

Emerging from the bathroom, she towels her hair as best as she can, brushing through the damp strands before changing into something comfortable. Finishing her routine by applying lotion to her face and body.

Pulling back the covers, she slides into bed and instinctively scoots closer to you, wrapping her arm around your waist. Her leg intertwines with yours, seeking warmth and comfort in your presence.

"Your feet are cold," you mumble sleepily, shifting to pull her arm tighter around you.

"Did I wake you?" she asks softly, a twinge of guilt in her voice.

"I heard you drop something in the shower. Couldn't sleep after that."

"Sorry," she murmurs.

"It's okay babe, how was work?"

"Day shift left me a mess again, so I had to clean it up," she sighs. "But at least the residents weren't too crabby today." She leans forward to press a kiss to your ear. "One of them even told me I was beautiful."

You chuckle, already knowing who it was. "Paul? I better tell him to back off my girl."

She giggles, the sound light and musical. "He's harmless. Besides, he shares his candy stash with me, so don't ruin it." Paul was one of her favorite residents at the nursing home—endearing, witty, and always challenging her to a game of checkers.

"What about you? How was your day?" she asks, her fingers tracing absent patterns on your side.

"We're training a new operator," you start, your voice tinged with mild frustration. "But I don't think she's comfortable with it. I told the supervisor, but he keeps saying that she'll adjust. Honestly, I don't know why they made me a team lead if they're just going to ignore everything I say. But whatever. At least I have the weekend off."

Her fingers pause in your hair. "Oh really? Why's that? It's a miracle they're giving you the whole weekend off." she teases, trying to mask her excitement.

"They're shutting things down for maintenance, so no production."

"Good." She smiles, the relief evident in her voice. "I've missed you." And she has—she can't even remember the last time you both had a weekend off together. Was it a month ago? Two?

"How much?" you tease, turning to face her, your eyes glinting with playful curiosity.

More than I can put into words, she thinks.

Instead of answering, she pulls you into a kiss, her hand sliding into your hair, her lips soft yet purposeful against yours. The kiss deepens as her fingers tighten slightly in your hair, drawing you closer. Your breath mingles with hers, the world outside dissolving into the space between you.

You groan softly when she nibbles on your lip, a sound that makes her smile against your mouth. Her other hand rests on your chest, her palm pressing lightly, grounding herself in the rhythm of your heartbeat.

"What do you think?" she asks, her voice low and teasing, her lips still grazing yours.

Breathless, you laugh. "I think I might need some more convincing."

She kisses you again, this time slower, yet passionately, as if pouring every ounce of her affection into the moment. To her, each kiss is a piece of her heart, a silent declaration that her world begins and ends with you.

Shifting slightly, she straddles your hips, her hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingertips brushing against your skin. She pauses, her eyes meeting yours, seeking silent permission. When you nod, her hands move, exploring the curve of your stomach. You shiver under her touch.

"Your hands are cold," you giggle, and she flushes.

She presses a kiss to your jaw, her voice playful. "Maybe I was just trying to warm them up."

She's always been the colder one between the two of you, her icy toes constantly seeking warmth against your legs. And despite your insistence that she wear socks to bed, they inevitably end up kicked off in her sleep.

You yawn suddenly, and she freezes.

"Don't tell me you're about to fall asleep," she teases, leaning back slightly.

You glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand, its red digits reading just shy of 2 a.m. Another yawn escapes, this one pulling tears to the corners of your eyes. "Probably. I always sleep better when you're here," you admit, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

Anya's chest swells with warmth. "Then let's sleep."

She slides back down beside you, wrapping her arm securely around your waist and resting her head in the crook of your shoulder.

In the quiet of the night, the two of you drift off, wrapped around each other, holding onto the love that feels as natural and essential as breathing.

[peachhcs]

can we get some samy and jack time? I feel like their dynamic would be fun!

mini golfing the anger away

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

jack takes samy out on an adventure to help her get over the breakup

here’s some requested samy & jack dynamic as he helps samy through the breakup in an attempt to lift her spirits. i don’t know how many words this is but it’s around the same as my other fics:)

au masterlist

there was one loud knock on samy’s door before it flung open without a chance for her to ask who it was. jack’s mop of brown hair peaked its way through as the younger girl raised her eyebrow in confusion.

“good you’re up,” the boy hummed.

“what do you want?” samy huffed, a bit annoyed that jack just bursted in without much explanation.

“we’re going for a little adventure because you’ve been stuck inside all day and i think you need fresh air to clear your mind,” jack determined like he had everything planned out already and he did.

“i don’t need fresh air. i’m wallowing in self-pity,” the girl groaned, pulling her blankets further up her body like they’d hide her.

jack shuffled to the bed until he sat down on the edge of it and pulled the blankets back down much to his sister’s dismay. “look, i know you’ve been going through a lot with the breakup and everything. i just wanna brighten your mood a bit and hang out with you because i feel like we haven’t hung out one on one in awhile,” the older boy softened his tone out.

“you and me hanging out results in things we shouldn’t be doing 99% of the time,” samy deadpanned.

“doesn’t that make it more fun though?” jack smirked.

the girl knew her brother wasn’t taking no for an answer, so with a long sigh, she sat up and pushed the blankets down completely.

“okay, fine. can you give me like fifteen minutes and i’ll meet you downstairs?” with that, jack beamed and nodded.

“no later than fifteen!” samy rolled her eyes a bit as her brother quickly disappeared from her room, but the small smile on her lips said otherwise.

—

fifteen minutes later on the dot, samy trailed down the stairs dressed in better outfit that wasn’t a t-shirt and sweatpants. jack was in the kitchen scrolling through his phone when the girl found him.

“okay, i’m ready,” she poked his shoulder.

“ow, that’s my bad shoulder,” the older boy pulled away making samy laugh.

she followed him out of the house and to his car. because jack planned the outing, he let samy have aux.

“are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?” the girl asked as they rolled out of the driveway.

“it wouldn’t be a surprise if i told you,” jack said in a “duh” tone. that made the brunette roll her eyes, but she didn’t say anything else.

the siblings let the soft music fill the car’s silence as jack drove through the familiar roads of ann arbor, michigan. everything they passed reminded samy of a memory with will when they were little which was a bit bittersweet now.

“remember when you and luke got stranded in the lowe’s parking lot?” jack snapped the girl from her thoughts. her gaze bounced to the big department store they flew past and a smile inched its way to her lips.

“god, that felt like a nightmare. we were so scared,” samy laughed.

“mom was freaking out when she realized she left you guys behind. i don’t think i’ve ever seen her that crazy. she swerved around on all of these roads,” jack laughed too.

“i’m pretty sure i cried the entire time until i saw mom,” the younger brunette grinned.

“you were always such a cry baby,” the older boy teased making samy pinch his arm.

“shut up, you were too. quinn’s the worst one out of all of us though,” for being the oldest, quinn sure was a mama’s boy when he was little.

after another ten minutes, jack pulled into a small gravel drive while samy’s eyes lit up a bit when she realized where they were.

“we’re going mini golfing?” the girl wondered as the sign in front of them read “annie’s putt putt and ice cream” — a staple of the hughes’ kids childhood.

“i thought you could use a pick me up, so why not reminisce on how competitive we all got with one another,” the boy smiled widely as he climbed out of the car leaving samy no other choice but to follow him.

jack quickly paid, handing samy her signature pink putter and ball. quinn always took dibs on green, jack got blue, leaving luke stuck with orange. he complained every time.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this. i haven’t done this in years,” samy hummed as she walked towards the first hole.

“this is gonna be fun. a little bonding between us,” jack nudged her arm and samy couldn’t help but agree.

she missed hanging out with jack because he always seemed to have something else going on. plus, this would get her mind off of things for at least an hour.

“whoever wins buys the other ice cream,” the older hughes sibling determined as he set his ball up first.

“i hope you’re ready to pay for my ice cream then,” the girl grinned widely making her brother roll his eyes.

jack took his first swing marking the beginning of the very fierce competition. if there was one thing about the four siblings, it was that they were very competitive with one another. whether it be pool, wakeboarding off the boat, or simply seeing who could chug the most water in a minute, the four were always going at it over the summer. mini golf always got them going which was why the family hardly went with all of them anymore because of how heated it got.

one year, quinn pushed luke over one of the obstacles making the poor kid sprain his ankle. after that, going to mini golf was banned in the hughes household.

by the fourth hole, samy was close behind jack in strokes. the two carefully followed jack’s ball down the path where it landed five inches away from the hole.

“that was rigged!” jack exclaimed in annoyance.

“ha! if i get this in, i’m ahead of you!” samy exclaimed, going into position for her next putt.

jack held his breath as he watched samy’s ball roll right past his directly into the hole. the younger girl cheered while jack stomped away like a little kid.

“i’m winning! you have more strokes than me now!”

“you’re just cheating,” the older boy rolled his eyes.

“i am not! you literally watched that go in!” the younger brunette pushed jack to go take his last putt for the hole.

the two moved through the rest of the holes fairly quickly. by the ninth hole, samy was significantly in the lead and was most definitely gonna win.

“better get your wallet out, jack,” she winked before taking the putt.

her pink ball traveled through the windmills and around the hill as the siblings followed it down the path. it came out the other side of the cave just an inch away from the hole.

“shit! so close to a hole in one,” samy frowned, tapping the ball in.

“do i even need to putt?” jack huffed.

“be a team player,” the girl giggled, pushing her brother back to the start.

jack lined his putt up with the ball, going in for a swing. his blue ball took the same path as samy’s through the windmills, around the hill, and through the cave except his landed directly into the hole for a hole in one.

“holy shit! hole in one!” the boy jumped up and down in excitement.

“hey, good play,” samy clapped for him.

“you know, i’ll take that as the end. i may have not won, but at least i got a hole in one,” jack grinned as the two went back to the counter.

“good game. that was fun,” samy hummed as she set her putter and ball into the basket.

“i’m glad you had fun. that was my goal,” the older boy smiled and made his way to the ice cream stand.

jack got his usual of soft chocolate and vanilla while samy stuck with her strawberry in a dish. the two found a quiet spot at one of the farther tables away from the smaller kids running around.

“are you glad i dragged you out of bed now?” jack wondered.

“you know, yeah, i am. thank you. this was really fun. i felt like i was a kid again,” samy smiled some.

“we hate seeing you sad, so i figured some mini golf wouldn’t hurt. mom only agreed if it was only us though,” that made the two laugh.

“it’d be a shit show if we were all here,” the younger girl giggled.

“exactly. luke wouldn’t have survived again.”

a comfortable silence fell over the siblings. it was rare for samy and jack to be in silence without one another bickering about something stupid and quinn needing to mediate, so they took advantage of it.

“i got broken up with once when i was 16. do you remember that?” jack broke the silence. samy raised her eyebrow and shook her head.

“i guess maybe not. you were..probably 12. anyway, this girl i dated for a bit broke up with me before i started dev program. it actually really hurt,” the older boy’s gaze fell away from his sister’s as he thought about the memory.

“i’m sorry. that sucks,” the girl sympathized.

“yeah, it did suck. breakups suck in general. i’m sorry you’re going through one.”

samy shrugged some, “it’s fine, i guess. he made that choice and..it’s whatever.”

“he’s an asshole,” jack determined making samy snort.

“i think you, quinn, and luke think the same thing. it’s so weird because..i..i wanna be mad at him and i am. i’m really hurt, but also..i’m not if that makes sense? like i don’t think i could ever be mad at will no matter what,” the younger brunette met jack’s gaze again.

“i get it. he was your best friend. it’s hard to..be mad at people like that. i dunno..maybe time will change things? like..you guys just need some time apart?” the older boy shrugged.

“yeah, maybe. i don’t know. like i hate him, but i don’t. i love him, but i don’t. it’s confusing me,” samy sighed.

“give it like a month and see how you feel. the breakup’s still really fresh so the feelings you’re having may be different from the normal ones you have on a normal basis. let it kind of..sit with you and then reassess i’d say.”

“yeah, that makes sense. i just feel weird showing and feeling the emotion because growing up with you guys makes me not wanna do any of that,” the girl laughed a bit.

“hey, we’re always here for you to talk or anything. i mean you say the word and we’ll go knock on his door. i think luke really wants to,” the two shared a laugh.

“thanks, i appreciate it. you guys have been really good to me,” samy grinned.

“it’s what older brothers are for,” jack poked his sister’s arm making her squirm away from him.

the two finished up their ice cream before heading back to the car. samy’s head felt a bit lighter on the way back thanks to jack’s outing. she’d really have to thank her brothers one day for getting her through this because she’d probably be unable to move from her bed if it weren’t for them.

[tnt-kokoo]

Cats of Germany

Alexis Ness × fem!reader

summary: You're went to visit Germany and came across a cat. After days and days of petting and playing with it, you realize it belongs to someone else.

warnings: kinda rushed, and a 'fast going' development between you two

Walking out of the airport you pulled your baggage behind you. You promised yourself that you'd completely relax in the next two weeks of vacation that you had. A friend of yours told you to visit Bavaria since the 'country side' has lots of pretty places to relax.

After half an hour of driving with a taxi, you get out and walk into your hotel and check in. The usual stuff. Walking into your hotel room you could kneel down infront of your friends for suggesting you this hotel and even this place. It all felt so comfortable and quiet.

____________________________________________

The next morning you made it your mission to find a place to eat. On your way you passed a rather lonely but still really pretty place with a little path. As you walked down the path, you suddenly got confused on what noises that were. It sounded like someone was walking in the grass but the footsteps weren't loud, plus what made you wonder was, were was this coming from? You didn't see anything?

Suddenly a small creature jumped out infront of you from the grass. It was a cute cat!! Crouching down to pet the small feline, you could feel it pushing its head closer into your hand and purring loud and comfortable. It only made you laugh. You could stay there all day petting the cute cat, but sadly your stomach wouldn't let you as you suddenly felt extremely hungry.

Excusing yourself from the cat (as if the cat could understand you), you made your way further down the path until,

you realized the cat has been following you.

____________________________________________

A week of your vacation has passed as you made your way (again) the same path as the whole week just to hope to get a glimpse of your new furry friend. You honestly were happy to have met it, since it's been like a navigator for you, (even if you could never choose your destination), the cat always made you follow it to end up in some really nice places. Either a good restaurant, or some pretty part of the 'country side' or just simply a tree.

But today was different.

The feline bought you to a normal looking house? But why? Did it live here? Or was it just a random destination?

You couldn't help but ask yourself these questions as you started to feel rather sad when thinking about leaving it before your vacation is over.

You crouched down to pick up the cat as suddenly the door infront of you opened and a male figure stood infront of you. Standing up with the cat in your arms, you could recognize the guy, it was Alexis Ness. A famous player for 'Bastard München'.

"Uhm..."

He seemed to noticed the cat you held and got extremely happy, "DANKE DANKE DANKE," he began as you stared at him in confusion considering you didn't speak German "Du hast meine Katze gefunden!! Wo war sie?? Ich schwör ich habe sie überall gesucht?!" You deadpanned at him until he blinked and realized you didn't speak German. "Sorry, I am just so thankful that you've found my cat! Where was she??" He then said with a thick German accent.

"She was on some pathway. And no problem.." Your voice went quieter when you understood that this probably means saying goodbye to your new friend.

The cat jumped down from your arms and circled around Ness. The boy was about to close his door as the cat meowed pretty loudly to show discomfort. The cat went out through the little still opened gap through the door towards you as a sign to have you follow it again. Both you and the boy understood that the cat wanted you to come in. And so, Ness asked you "Möchtest du- Sorry, do you want to come in?"

"Sure I guess?" You laughed as you felt a bit nervous.

____________________________________________

'She's so beautiful..' he thought as you sat down on his couch. His own cat seemed to like you very much which was honestly a surprise him since the cat doesn't even like Kaiser.

But nevertheless to say, he was amazed by you. You managed to convince him that (hair/color) was the prettiest from all and that your eyes were more comforting than the bed when you need to wake up. He loved the way you laughed at jokes and he especially loved that both of you were into the same movie genre. So now, that both of you discovered that you have the same movie taste, you decided to put on a movie and let the movie characters say their lines.

About an hour later the sun went down and you seemed to be deep asleep. You would have found it embarrassing if Ness saw you asleep, in his house, after knowing eachother for not even a whole day. But considering he was asleep too, you couldn't care less. His head was on yours as you faced him and leaned into him. The cat was also fast asleep beside you.

From outside, people would think of you two as a cute couple, maybe, just maybe both of you wanted it to be true.

____________________________________________

ᯓᝰ @peekaboo1127 So I REALLY hope you'll like it bc it's rushed but if not, you can always tell me what you want exactly so I can write to your own liking‼️

[lunaandco]

i know who you pretend i am; part one

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: catalan author aroa ferrer is about to be translated into spanish. to promote her book, her publisher has the worst idea possible: a pr relationship with a heartthrob footballer.

masterlist // series masterlist // i do not take requests

"Uhm, where is the bathroom?" Asked Gavi. His hands were sweating and he wanted to fix his hair before the meeting. He was nervous, more than he was when he had play in front of millions of people.

This was different. This made him vulnerable.

"That corridor to the left has the gender neutral bathrooms," explained the woman at the reception counter. Gavi thanked her quietly and walked toward the corridor she had pointed to.

The bathroom was empty, except for a girl in the farthest sink away, who was covering her face with her hands and quietly sniffling.

"I'm sorry," he stumbled, taking a step back. Maybe he could come back later.

"No, it's okay." The girl didn't look at him, scurrying pass him, almost running away from the place. It left Gavi with a bitter taste in his mouth. What had that girl so upset?

He didn't think too much about it, though. He had his own things to worry about.

💙❤️

Iván put a hand on his shoulder when they were finally called up.

The offer had reached Gavi as a passing comment. Iván had heard that Roses Editorial was searching for a guy to be in a PR relationship with one of their more successful writers. The agent was offering the opportunity to his other clients, who were footballers of a smaller caliber than Gavi, when media attention was concerned.

Gavi would have usually not even considered an arrangement like that. His dating life was his business and his business only, but after a rough break up he needed to do something drastic.

"Hombre, I didn't think you'd be interested," admitted Iván. "You never want to do stuff like this..."

Gavi had shrugged.

"Just let me look a bit into this before I fully accept," asked Gavi. "Do you have the girl's name?"

"Aroa Ferrer," said Iván. "There are no pictures of her on the Internet, but you can check her book if you want."

Gavi frowned. He wondered if Iván noticed it was a bit strange that agirl with no public photos on the Internet was ready to go on a PR stunt like this, but he said nothing.

Gavi had bought the book, which was in Catalan, and actually read it. Going though the pages was quite different than completing his high school assignments. In school, he had loathed the language. Teachers were strict, the grammatical and orthographic rules made no sense, and he was in a clear disadvantage against his native speaking classmates. But Aroa's book was entertaining, the plot, the characters. It made him forget he was actually reading in a second language.

Aroa's second book was in Spanish. It had been published a few days earlier and was flying off the shelves in all the bookstores of the country. The publishing house wanted to take advantage of the rush, and use the publicity of a PR stunt to drive people's eyes towards the first book's Spanish translation.

Gavi walked to the office awkwardly. By the desk, Ferrer's agent and Roses' marketing manager were waiting for them. On the other side of the room, by the corner, arms crossed and jaw set, was the girl from the bathroom.

It took Gavi less than a second to figure out he had walked into a war zone, and that the room was divided. Iván, who either didn't notice, or ignored it, walked to the men in suits by the desk.

The men seemed to be delighted to see him. Gavi was sure that when they started asking around for an interested party, they never thought they could bag someone of Gavi's prophile. He could see the Euro signs in their eyes.

Gavi looked back at Aroa. Her jaw was set and he gaze was averted. Having the freedom to map out her face, Gavi was stunned with how pretty she was. Short brown hair curled to down to her chin, pink lips, curled in a pissed off expression, green eyes guarded and harsh.

She looked like she wanted to kill everyone in the room.

"Hi," he greeted shyly, when he caught her gaze. She replied with a short head gesture.

"C'mon, c'mon, sit, sit, Gavi." The men there were adamant in having him be as comfortable as possible. They really wanted to sway his will towards whatever they wanted to do. "Meet Aroa, she will be your partner in this operation. Excuse her behavior, she's not done throwing her tantrum yet."

Aroa clenched her jaw.

She definitely looked too pissed off for it be "just a tantrum". Suddenly, Gavi didn't think this was the best idea. Something about the men and the way they talked about their author, the fact that she was clearly distressed and nobady seemed to care.

"Aroa, sit next to him, I want to see you two together," demanded the agent. She obeyed, walking briskly and dropping next to him on the couch. Gavi could feel the tension in her muscles.

"Are you okay?" He asked, worriedly. It took Aroa a few seconds to figure out he was talking to her.

"Could be worse," she said, her face softening a little. Her eyes were prettier up close, he noticed.

"Alright, so, the idea is to have you two appear to be a couple in public, so that Aroa's book sells in the rest of Spain," said the agent.

"We also wanted something from this relationship," announced Iván.

"Of course." Both men seemed to find that completely reasonable. "What do you need?"

"Gavi broke up with his girlfriend a month ago. She's still posting indirect statements that reflect badly on him. Once the break up is announced, we would benefit of Aroa speaking kindly of him, at least a couple of times," explained Iván. Gavi flinched. The issues with Alicia had been many, specially after the break up. When she started posting, he and Iván had agreed to ignore the situation completely, but now that Gavi had been open to this scheme, it was logical that his agent wanted to take advantage of it.

Aroa rised her eyebrow, tension returning to her body.

"You're not like, abusive, right?" She asked bluntly. "I won't go against a victim just to clean you image.”

"I can promise you it's nothing like that," reassured Iván. "Alicia is just a little bit immature."

Gavi shook his head. That argument was doing nothing to quench Aroa's doubts.

"We fought during the break up," he explained. "Alicia wanted us to spend more time together, but I ignored her, sometimes even on purpose, to focus on football. If anything, all her complaints about me are about how I'm too immature and childish for a woman like her. That sort of thing."

Aroa seemed to find his explanation more plausible.

"If I learn that you did something bad to her..."

"I promise you I didn't," insisted Gavi. She finally nodded.

"Well, the relationship should be announced slowly, we don't want to overwhelm the public," continued the manager. Gavi had not caught his name, and he realised he did not want to.

"Yes, maybe Aroa should go to a couple of games, and you should be seen with the book somewhere..." agreed the agent, looking at Gavi.

"But how are we going to tie her face to her name? There are no pictures of you available on the Internet," interrupted Gavi.

"That's because my face should not be necessary to sell a fucking book," replied Aroa. Gavi tensed. During the whole time, Aroa had seemed tense, pissed off. But he now was starting so see the reason.

"Well, you refused to do tik toks, so this is your next option, young lady," reminded her the manager. Something churned on Gavi's stomach.

"My target audience is not on booktok," she complained.

"It will be if we say so," insisted the manager. "You wrote a roamce book, you can't be picky about your public."

"Wait, you don't want to be doing this?" Asked Gavi, fully tuning his body to watch her. By the corner of the eye, he saw Iván's expression souring.

"No. Not really. I want my books to sell because they are good, not because I'm some dude's girlfriend." Aroa explained. Gavi recognised the glint of ambition and pride on her eyes. He had the same feeling surrounding his career. He was liked and valued because he was a good footballer, not because he was pretty.

"Then why are you here?" Asked Iván, concerned.

"I don't have a choice."

"Her contact stipulates that marketing decisions lay on the Editoral. We were already kind enough to listen to her when she rejected booktok, we won't do that again," explained the manager. Gavi felt like throttling him.

"Well, Gavi and I need to reconsider the offer..." Iván stood up, and gestured Gavi to do the same. "This information changes a lot of things for us..."

Gavi spared one last worried glance to Aroa before slipping out of the room, following Iván.

"That was..."

"Defiently unethical," finished Iván. "I can't believe they think they have the right..."

Aroa rushed through the corridors catching them before they reached the elevators. She grabbed Gavi by the arm, desperation obvious on her eyes.

"Wait, please." There were tears streaming down her pink cheeks. "I... please. Stay. They will carry on with this plan with or without you, and I... I would rather have to do it with you, knowing that you care, and are kind, that to do it with whoever new they find, someone that agrees with their thinking." She explained.

Gavi did not doubt on wrapping jus arms around her, pressing her to his chest. Aroa buried her face on his shoulder, her tears wetting the fabric of his shirt.

"Alright," Gavi looked at Iván over her shoulder. His face was troubled, but Gavi could see that he agreed with him. They would take the offer, even if it was just to protect Aroa Ferrer.

💙❤️

"I'm so sorry for getting you into this mess," said Aroa when she let Gavi in on her apartment. She had kicked out Inés, her best friend, so they could talk peacefully.

"It's okay, though. I kind of want to do it, you know?" Gavi put his hands on his pockets. Now that she's allowing herself to look at him, Aroa could admit that he was pretty handsome. "I'd rather help you, that see you in a fake relationship with some scumbag in a few months and wonder if you're okay every day."

"Still. You shouldn't be worrying about it."

Gavi shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. Aroa couldn't fathom how he found the whole ordeal so... irrelevant, to the course of his life, but he was not putting his ambition at risk so that was that.

She led him to her kitchen, were she had prepared two bowls of simple tomato pasta.

"I wasn't sure what you could or could not eat..." she explained. "So I played it safe."

"Smells so good," he complimented. "I love pasta, specially before a match."

Aroa smiled, pleased.

💙❤️

"So this thing... we can have it be quiet, right?" Asked Gavi, helping Aroa do the dishes.

"I'm not sure they want it to be quiet..." she told him. Edgar and Toni were like dogs with a bone, and Gavi was a very succulent bone.

"But I can demand that it is." He replied, confidently. "They need it to be me, no one is going to give them any more clout than I do," Aroa flinched. "I have power here."

"Alright," she said. "What do you have in mind?"

"Like Iván said, you come to a few of my matches, we get someone to spot you. I carry your books around a couple of times. Then we get caught kissing somewhere, maybe a restaurant or a park, something romantic. A couple of insta stories on the same place at the same time and done. We stop following each other on social media, don't interact in public and everyone will figure out we've broken up. Easy."

"Easy." Aroa repeated, finishing drying a dish.

"Yeah, easy." Gavi seemed proud of his plan."

"There is only one problem," she said. "I've never kissed anyone."

"Oh."

It was obvious Gavi did not expect that.

"Never?" He croaked. Aroa shook her head, a little bit embarrassed. She was about to turn twenty one, and no one had ever deemed her pretty enough for a kiss. "You didn't want to or..."

It was cute that Gavi thought she had chosen that. Aroa shrugged.

"Just never happened for me."

There was a heavy silence, in which Aroa avoided eye contact, turning her face away from Gavi, until she felt his hands gently cupping her cheeks.

"I could... we could kiss now," he offered. "So your first kiss isn't everywhere on the Internet. And so we know what to do when the moment comes or in an emergency."

Aroa took a shaky breath, lifting her gaze to look at him. Gavi's big eyes were dark, his lips parted as he studied her face. He wanted to do it, she realised, startled. Whether it was a stupid bout of desire or wanting to be kind she was not sure.

But she nodded, accepting the offer.

His lips met hers softly at first. Small kisses to help her figure out what was going on. But as Aroa grew in confidence, her arms lifting to grip his shoulders, her lips moving against his, the kiss deepened. Gavi gripped her waist, their hips colliding as he squished her against the sink. Aroa rised a hand to the back of his head as his tongue went inside her mouth.

"I thought it was supposed to be fake?" Inés' voice startled them into separating.

"We're just rehearsing," came out of Aroa's mouth, as she touched her tingling lips with the tip of her fingers. Kissing was nice, she decided.

Inés snorted leaving her purse by the couch.

"Sure, at least he's the hot one," she commented, before disappearing into her room. Gavi blushed, to Aroa's delight.

💙❤️

Gavi went back home excitedly. His lips were still tingling from the kiss, his heart still beating hard from all the adrenaline. They were doing this. They were so fucking doing this.

But there was one thing he needed to do first. He found his family gathered in the living room, but they tackled the issue before he could open his mouth.

"Since when do you read?" Asked Aurora. She was holding Aroa's book. "And since when do you speak Catalan?"

"I wouldn't have a high school diploma if I didn't speak Catalan," he replied taking his coat off. His cheeks are already pink. "I've lived here for almost a decade, I'm not that stupid."

"But reading a romance book?" Insisted Aurora.

"Stop annoying your brother," reprimanded their mother. "God knows I've tried to get him to read for years..."

His dad, though, had a knowing smile on his face.

"Where were you, boy?"

"I, eh... that is what u wanted to talk about with all of you. I was... eh, I was on a date." He blurted.

Aurora's mouth dropped.

"So soon after Alicia?"

"Yeah. I know it seems precipitated, but I have a great feeling about this..."

"Gavi, dear, it's better if you wait a little. At least as a curtesy. Alicia deserves better..."

"Well, for as long as Alicia doesn't hear..." decided Aurora. "We can pretend like they started dating six months after the break up or something..."

"She's coming to my game next week." Said Gavi, squashing their planning. "And I asked her to wear my jersey." He had not actually, but he was sure it would be the easiest way to link her to him, if she was spotted alone in the stands with the rest of the families.

"That's a bit soon. It took you quite a while to go public with Alicia..."

"I'm sure of what I'm doing," replied Gavi, squaring his shoulders. "I like Aroa a lot. I want her—"

"We don't even know this girl," protested his mother. "How do you know that she isn't after your fame?"

'Because I caught her having a panic attack at the thought of using me for my fame,' he thought, but said nothing.

"Why is it so hard to trust my judgement?" He asked. He felt like he was setting Aroa up to be hated by his family, once they broke of the arrangement.

"If you feel lonely, I'm sure Alicia..."

"I don't want Alicia, Aurora," he snapped. "I want Aroa." As he spoke, Gavi realised he was saying the truth. "I really want to try this with her. She's sweet and smart and accomplished. She wrote that fucking book!" He pointed at the book that was still in Aurora's hands. "And I liked it! And I hate reading, and I struggle with Catalan! That is how good she is."

"We're gonna have to meet this girl," spoke his father then. "Before the match. Ask her when she can come for dinner."

Shit.

💙❤️

"You didn't tell your parents it was a PR deal?" Said Aroa and Iván almost at the same time.

Gavi covered his face with his hands.

"They've been worried about the break up with Alicia. They liked her a lot, always asked if we are going to get back together. Aurora actually still meets with her, I'm sure." He explained. "I thought that maybe... I could use this to make them forget about my thing with Alicia, I don't know."

Iván sighed. He was used to Gavi's impulsive decision making, but Aroa was looking at him totally puzzled.

"Alright," she said. "I'm free every night next week."

"You're actually accepting?"

"You're making me a huge favour, not letting me do this with some random reggetón singer. How bad can a family dinner be?"

"If my sister suspects you're after my money, it can be quite awful," he warned.

"Then let's think of it as warm up, for when this thing hits the news."

At that moment, Gavi could have kissed her.

"Okay, you two need to fix that stuff alone," decided Iván standing up from the kitchen table of Aroa's apartment, taking the folder with him. After a second meeting with her publishers, the three of them had gone to her house to discuss the details form their more ethical point of view. "I'll give this to my friends. They will call you by the end of the week," he told Aroa.

Iván had offered to send the manuscript of her third book to some agents he knew, who specialised on publishing. They also had good ties with foreign publishing houses, and could get her translated to other languages apart from Spanish or Catalan, like English, French or German.

💙❤️

"Do they really hate me?" Asked Aroa once they reached his home. She was squeezing a box of homemade cookies against her chest, nerves finally kicking in.

"They... liked Alicia a lot. And they distrust any girl that attempts anything with me. So this is more like an exam..."

"Great." Gavi almost snorted at her ironic remark. She had come out of her shell slowly, but it was fun to banter with her now.

Inside, they were greeted by his father first. He looked soft, like a teddy bear. He took the cookies from Aroa with a smile on his face, as he led them to the kitchen, as if this wasn't Gavi's house too.

There, they found his mother, who was a little bit more cautious around Aroa. She still smiled and was very polite, but Aroa could tell she was being watched.

Aurora would clearly he the hardest one to win over. She smiled curtly, but kept the interactions at the minimum. Aroa took a step closer to Gavi instinctively. He put his hand on her hip as he talked to his dad, something about the cookies being 100% acceptable by Barça's nutritionist standards.

"You made them?"

"Yeah!" His mother nodded appreciatively. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard.

💙❤️

"They definitively hate me," whispered Aroa once they were alone in his room. She picked her pyjamas from the bag she had prepared to spend the night.

"Okay, it could have gone better," admitted Gavi, sitting in bed.

Even if his father seemed to welcome her, his mother and Aurora were not as inclined. They were still untrusting, and Aroa had spent enough time studying human behaviour to know they were comparing her to Alicia the whole time.

"I don't think it's worth it to try to make them like me," she told him. "I'll be gone in a month an a half anyway." Aroa went to the bathroom to change her white stamped t-shirt and blue jeans—that Gavi had helped her pick, for the pyjamas shirt and shorts. "You could tell them they were right about me and call it day," she offered when she exited.

"I don't like that, though," he shook his head. "I don't want them to think badly of you. You're wonderful, I wish they could see it. And what do you mean you will be gone, we can still be friends, no?"

"I thought you would want me gone," she admitted, sitting in bed next to him. Gavi shook his head. "Not at all. I want to be friends with you, I want to able to laugh about it in a few years."

Aroa rested her head on his shoulder, in silence. Gavi had to keep himself from dragging her to his lap and crushing her in a hug.

💙❤️

Aroa watched herself in the mirror. The show started today. She would go to the match, wearing the black jersey with Gavi's name on her back, and do the part.

"You'll slay this, I promise," encouraged Inés with a tight hug before she left.

At the stadium, Iván greeted her and sat with her to watch the match. She was grateful for his presence, it was a friendly face in the sea of unknown people.

"I presume the dinner with his family did not go well," muttered Iván.

"No," admitted Aroa. "Did he tell you?"

Iván shook his head and pointed to a few rows in front of them. Gavi's sister had arrived, and with her a pretty girl with beautiful clothes and beautiful hair.

"Why would Aurora bring Alicia if she approves of you?"

"Shit."

"Shit indeed. I told that boy he should have told his family the truth."

💙❤️

Gavi noticed immediately, and cursed under his breath. Shit was going to hit the fan faster than he thought. As they warmed up, he searched for a reason to rush to the stands.

"I need to talk to Iván for a sec," he told his teammates, who looked at him puzzled. Gavi rushed up the stairs, ignoring his sister trying to get his attention, and making it to Iván and Aroa in record time.

"We have some drama here," warned him Iván. Gavi ignored him too.

"How are you doing?" He asked Aroa, who shrugged a little bit. She looked terrified. "I'm going to go off script right now," he warned. lifting his hands to cup her cheeks. He felt them heat under his fingers, as Aroa realised what he was planning.

The kiss was longer than it should have been. Gavi wanted to make sure one of those fans who recorded everything got the clip, wanted everyone to see.

Gavi wanted everyone to know he was Aroa's so badly, he forgot he actually wasn't.

💙❤️

"Anything you want to say about this?"

Of course his teammates would get a hold of the video sooner than the day was over. Gavi was changing into his jeans when Lamine slid on the bench next to him, holding his phone with the viral tik tok.

"That's my girlfriend," he said. "Her name is Aroa Ferrer, she's a—"

"The writer?" interrupted Cubarsí. "No way you're dating her, hermano. She's too cool for you, way out of your league."

"Oh, yeah?" Snarked Gavi, watching how Cuba asked Lamine to show him the video again.

"I only saw her face for the first time last week, when the new book dropped and she included an author photo. Finally!"

Cuba being an Aroa fan boy wasn't on Gavi's plan, but it made him proud.

"But is she hot?" Asked someone else, trying to see the video too. Gavi put on his shirt, amidst patting on his shoulders, hair ruffles and congratulatory comments.

The smile on his face was genuine.

💙❤️

"I'm sorry about what my sister did."

Gavi held her hand. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pouted. He truly cared about her well-being. Aroa smiled.

"It's okay. At least my publishers are loving the drama," he snorted, but she could tell he noticed the saddened tone on her voice. "I'm sorry I'm making things hard with your family..."

"No you're not. Alicia is, trying to get us to get back together." Gavi stopped in front of his car. "You might have helped me cut this once and for all."

Aroa squeezed his hand, and he lifted hers to his lips, kissing it gently.

"Also, my teammates want to meet you too."

Aroa rolled her eyes.

"You didn't tell them this was fake either?"

"Pau is your fan boy. I would look like a loser if I hadn't actually seduced you!"

Aroa snorted, and suddenly they were laughing loudly, putting their weight on each other, until some other families started to trickle by and look at them funny.

💙❤️

It was quiet at home. Gavi was dozzing off with his head on Aroa's shoulder as she typed her soul away. Her fourth book was halfway done, this time in Catalan. At the other side of the couch, his mother was reading a magazine, and his father was doing a puzzle in the coffee table.

Aurora made it home then. She left her keys and took her coat in silence, watching the new couple warily.

"You didn't need to do that," she told her brother. Gavi woke up fully.

"Actually, I did. You didn't need to do that."

"Alicia's feelings are hurt."

"She hurt them herself," he stated, curling further onto Aroa's shoulder, who had not noticed Aurora's presence due to her headphones.

"You're hell bent on her, huh?"

"Yes, actually."

Aurora rolled her eyes and went to her room.

💙❤️

"Are you sure you do not want to come?" Gavia sked again. He did not expect Aroa to say yes, she was admant to keep their public interactions to a minimum.

"No, have fun," she smiled softly, looking up from her laptop. That book was writing itself fast.

Gavi had a boy's night out, and even if some of the guys brought their girlfriends, Aroa had argued that she would be a girlfriend for too little to actually go there. He has wanted to argue, but there was no point.

Gavi bent to drop a short peck on her lips, before leaving, whistling some old fashioned song.

"You're not... going to ask him to text you every twenty minutes?" Asled Aurora, from her side of the couch. Even if the relationship was tense, Gavi insisted they should act like nothing happened.

"Why would I do that?" frowned Aroa.

"To make sure he doesn't cheat?"

"If I have to put that much effort to make sure he doesn't cheat, why would a I date him?" Questioned Aroa. "Seems stupid."

His father snorted.

"She's got a point," he said, smiling. He was the one that seemed to accept Aroa the fastest.

Aurora shrugged.

"Alicia did not like it when he went out without her."

"And they broke up," reminded her Aroa. "So it was useless in the end, all that work."

Aroa wasn't sure why she was pushing so hard. Her idea was to be as quiet as possible, bother the family as little as she could. But she also wanted to defend herself a little. Aurora nodded.

"I guess you've got a point, nena," she said.

💙❤️

An hour and a half later, Gavi came back with some sweets he had picked at the 24h bakery, just to find his sister and his fake girlfriend cuddling and laughing over the stupid movie on the TV.

His chest fluttered.

💙❤️

"Iván's friends picked up my book. They will publish me without stupid marketing deals," she announced one day Gavi went to her apartment straight from training.

"That's great!" Gavi picked Aroa up and spun her around.

"And they told me they didn't mind that I wanted to use a pseudonym, so no one would link my new books to you and this PR deal," she finished once her feet touched the ground.

Gavi knew what that meant for her.

"So whats left with your old publisher?" He asked.

"Once we break up, we're done." She said. "They just need to forward the royalties from the sales and that's it."

Gavi nodded quietly, catching his lower lip between his teeth.

"There is something I wanted to ask," he said then, changing his weight from one foot to the other. "What would happen if we never broke up?"

"Huh?"

"If instead of breaking up, we kept dating. Could your publishers say anything?"

"I don't think so, we never stipulated in paper..."

"Then let's stay dating." He blurted.

"What?"

"Be my girlfriend. My real girlfriend. Please." Gavi's hands cupped her neck. "I've thought about this too often since this started. Please—"

Aroa rised to her tip toes, and shut him up with a kiss. The first kiss that had nothing to do with the arrangement, and everything to do with them. The first of many.