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javierpena-inatacvest · 6 months ago

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Stress Relief

Summary: After a recent promotion, Javi has had a lot on his plate. Thankfully, you know just what to do to help him de-stress.

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, post season 3)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (make safe choices pls), oral (m receiving), creampie, size kink (ish?), praise kink, sex as stress relief, Subby, whimpering Javi because giving him a surprise blowjob when you know he's stressed would make him crumble, this is literally porn without a plot WHOOPS

A/N: Shoutout to my job for having a system wide data outage today so I didn't have to work and got to write this instead 🤪 Poor bby cow eyes deserves all the stress relief in the world, and who am I to deny him 🤷🏼‍♀️ Also proud of myself because this is the first thing I've written without an obscene breeding kink in God knows how long, gold stars for me LMAO

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

“You’re still working?”

“No, I just really like sitting here and going through all this fucking paperwork for fun.” Javi sighed, sarcasm oozing out of his words as he leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

As thankful as Javi was for his much more structured, low risk job at the Laredo Sheriff's Department compared to his time back in Colombia, his recent promotion had put way more on his plate than he had expected.

Begrudgingly, Javi had been bringing work home with him most nights to make up for what he couldn’t finish in the office, leaving him in an exceptionally sour mood that he was spending his nights finishing paperwork instead of spending time with you.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be an asshole, Querida.” Javi huffed, upset with himself that any ounce of him was resorting to taking his frustrations out on you. “I just- I’ve just been really stressed about trying to get all this shit done.”

“Really? I can’t tell. You don’t seem stressed at all.” You quietly teased, your sarcasm enough to at least crack a small smile out of his pouted frown.

Pushing the office door open, you softly padded into the room, placing yourself behind Javi’s desk chair and draping your arms around his shoulders, gently resting your chin on his shoulder. His hands reached up to wrap around your arms now resting against his chest, his thumbs rubbing soft circles onto your skin as he let out a heavy sigh, your presence flooding him with at least a little bit of calm amongst the chaos.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, pecking a soft kiss onto the scratchy stubble of his cheek.

“No, it’s just some paperwork shit.”

“You sure?”

“No, thank you though, Hermosa. I promise I’ll be done soon, baby.”

Javi assumed his reply and gentle pat to your arm still wrapped around him would have enough to send you back out of his office so he could finish the rest of his work, but as your lips began to slowly travel from his cheek to down his neck and back up to nibble at his ear while your hands slid down his chest, he slowly realized that your offer to help had nothing to do with the actual work he needed to finish.

“You sure there’s nothing? It sure seems like you could use some stress relief, Javi.” The tone of your voice shifting from sweet and innocent to low and sultry, the whisper of your words dancing in Javi’s ear and fingertips raking lower across his stomach and thighs making his breath hitch in the back of his throat as he realized what kind of “help” you were planning to offer him.

You smirked as you watched the bulge in his slacks begin to stiffen, your hand just grazing along the seam of his crotch while you kissed his neck, sucking at his pulse point and nipping at his skin. You could practically feel Javi melting into his chair at your touch, hoping that your plan would provide your husband with some much needed stress relief.

“Pobrecito (Poor thing). You’re so tense. And so hard,” You laughed quietly to yourself, hand now cupping the full blown erection in his pants, “You gonna let me help you, baby? Help you get rid of some of this stress?”

You began to swivel his desk chair to face you, Javi’s lips already parted for his heavy breaths as his hungry gaze met yours. Slowly, you climbed into his lap, your legs straddling over his hips as your hands ran up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt to expose his soft and tanned skin.

Your mouths met in a hungry clash of tongues and teeth, capturing Javi’s muffled moans as you kissed him with an electric intensity that already had him needily bucking his hips up into you, desperate to ease how painfully hard he was from the few short moments since your proposition.

Javi could barely find it in his mind to string together a coherent sentence, frantically nodding his head in agreement to your question between sloppy kisses, letting his hands roam down your back until they were grabbing your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp.

“Use your words, Javi. You want me to take care of you?” You cooed, grinding your hips into his lap as you watched his head tip back against the chair, jaw going slack and mind running blank as you rubbed against the straining fabric of his pants.

“Fuck. P-Please, baby.” He moaned, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gulped, trying to use any ounce of composure he could to somehow make words travel from his brain to his mouth.

“Good boy.” You smirked, placing one last kiss on his lips before climbing off his lap to settle yourself between his legs on the floor, letting your fingers toy with the clasp of his belt buckle until it broke free.

“Fuck me.” Javi whispered to himself under his breath, watching you free his belt to carefully unzip his slacks, lifting his hips just enough to help you pull down his boxers to reveal his aching cock, tip already red and precum weeping from his slit.

“Maybe if you behave and let me take care of you, then yes.” You teased before letting your kisses trail up his thighs, inching closer and closer to his length, only making him groan more. His hand ran through the dark locks of his thick brown hair, trying to center himself enough to keep from busting right then and there.

Your hands ran up and down his thighs as you scooted closer to him, kisses trailing behind the gentle graze of your fingertips up towards his length. You couldn’t help but smirk at him with a devilish grin, seeing how needy and worked up he already was without you even touching him yet.

Letting your lips inch closer and closer to the base of his cock, your hand wrapped carefully around him, your thumb swiping over his tip and collecting the precum that had been leaking from it, sending a shiver down his spine and a low groan in his chest.

Slowly, your kisses made their way up his length, your lips replacing your hand, tenderly licking at sucking at his tip, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest. “Relax, Javi. Let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed, letting his cock tap against your tongue before licking a long strip from base to tip, the sensation making him shutter.

“O-kay. Fuck- Yeah, okay, baby.” He managed to stammer out, looking down at you perched between his legs, beginning to sink your mouth down on his length, hollowing out your cheeks until you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, coming back off him with a pop and a satisfied smile, batting your lashes at him.

Javi’s head hit the back of his chair as you began to repeat the motion, slowly taking the full length of his cock in and out of your mouth, letting his tip graze the back of your throat with each movement.

Letting your tongue drag up his shaft, your lips wrapped around his tip, sucking and flicking at his most sensitive spots. One hand was wrapped around his cock and working in tandem with your mouth, while the other grasped at his bare thigh, fingertips digging into his skin.

You began to pick up your pace, shifting your hand to cup his balls so you could take him back into your throat, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils.

You couldn’t help but let a small smirk form between your lips as you worked at his cock, seeing and hearing just how wrecked Javi was from the short time that you had gone down on him, quiet whimpers and moans escaping from his lips, followed by muffled whispers of mixed expletives in Spanish and English to himself in any attempt to keep from spilling down your throat just as soon as you had started.

“Jesus fucking Christ… F-fuck me. You feel- mierda- you feel so good, Hermosa.” Javi managed to stammer out between gasps, looking down at you nestled between his legs with a desperate expression painted across his face, already feeling his balls beginning to tense and stomach start to swirl.

While you knew it wouldn’t take much more to get Javi to your intended point of stress relief, you selfishly couldn’t deny the fact that you were now also in need of your own relief, feeling the arousal that had been pooling in your underwear, coating the inside of your thighs and forcing you to squeeze them together in attempts to ease your growing ache.

Pulling off Javi’s cock and planting a soft kiss to his tip, you peered up at him with a devilish grin, phrasing your next proposition as a question, even though you undoubtedly already knew what his answer would be.

“You wanna cum down my throat, or cum inside me? You choose, handsome.” You cooed, fingertips grazing the inside of his thighs as your kisses trailed behind, teasing Javi to the point you were half convinced he might cum just like this, considering his half coherent babbles as he tried to string together words to form any sort of thought.

“I-inside. Fuck- Let me cum inside you, please.” He stammered, nodding his head frantically in confirmation of what you already knew would be his answer.

Gripping your hands around his thighs to push yourself up to stand, you reached down to tug the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, quickly followed by your bra, both now crumpled in a pile on the floor.

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at how Javi was gawking at you and your now bare chest, eyes bulging out of his skull and jaw hitting the floor as if he was a goddamn cartoon and it was the first time he had seen you topless in his entire life.

Your bottom half slowly followed the same fate as your top, pants and underwear shuffling down your hips and legs until they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you completely naked as you began to crawl back into Javi’s lap.

You let your legs straddle over his hips, your cunt ghosting over his cock as you placed your hands on his stomach, letting them slide up his chest until they were buried in the thick locks of his dark hair, gripping and tugging his curls while your mouth engulfed his in an electric kiss.

A soft moan rumbled in your chest as his firm grasp found a home on your hips, his fingers digging into the meat of your stomach, holding on for dear life while he felt you hovering over his length.

“Please, Hermosa. I need to feel you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, now all but begging for you to sink down onto his cock and let himself get lost in the mesmerizing warmth and wetness of you.

Reaching below you, you wrapped your hand around his cock, positioning it beneath you to lower yourself down, whimpering at the sweet stretch and sting of his girth, letting his tip kiss your cervix as he filled you with every inch of himself that you could take. For as many times as you had found yourself in this position, you were convinced that you would never get over just how full you felt with Javi inside you, and how breathtakingly incredible it felt.

Cupping Javi’s strong jaw in your hands, your forehead rested against his as you let your hips start to grind into his, long and languid circles of your lower half, rolling back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt.

“Fuck me. Holy fuck.” Javi groaned, his hands snaking up your front to grab your breasts, kneading the soft flesh greedily in his hands. His fingers reached for your pebbled nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, the new sensation sending a jolt of pleasure to your core.

That, combined with the hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbing deliciously on your clit and the way Javi’s cock punched against your g-spot was already making you see stars, vision going white and brain going blank from just how good he felt buried inside you.

Instinctively, you rocked your hips faster, feeling an all too familiar tingle begin to build at the base of your spine. Almost as if Javi could sense the way your cunt was starting to clench around his length, he couldn’t help but buck his hips up into yours, his thrusts filling you in a way that had you absolutely reeling and breathless, the two of you both teetering on the brink of collapse to chase your own highs.

“You feel, oh shit- you feel so good, Javi. Feel so good inside me. I’m close, baby.” You whimpered, burying your hands in the sweat curled hairs at the nape of his neck, lost in your own pleasure as your stomach swirled faster and faster with arousal.

You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you and nearly incomprehensible babbles were all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone.

“Yeah? F-fuck, I love being inside you. So fucking wet and tight, holy fuck.”

You could feel your walls beginning to tighten around him, moaning as you buried your head in the crook of his shoulder, fingernails digging crescent moons into his skin as you braced yourself for the wave that was about to crash through you.

“Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop.”

“I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, Osita. Wanna feel you soak my lap before I fuck you full of me. Gonna cum so deep inside this tight little pussy.” Javi reached down so the pads of his fingers rubbed along your clit as you rolled your hips, sinking yourself deeper onto his cock with each thrust, your vision going white as you could feel yourself come undone.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckkkkkkkk!” You cried out as you felt your orgasm pulse through you, pleasure shooting through your body as you came, clamping down around Javi’s cock and gushing with your arousal, your body melting limp into his as he followed suite.

“That’s it, baby. I’m gonna- fuck- g-gonna cum too. Fuck me, gonna fill you so full of me you’re- oh shit- gonna be dripping out of me f-for da- Oh fuckkkkkk-” With a final stutter of his hips, Javi thrust up into you, letting the warm rush of his spend coat your walls, milking himself of every last drop before carefully pulling out, letting the rhythmic breathing of your chests rising and falling sync together.

“Holy fuck.” Javi sighed, kissing your bare shoulder before letting his plush lips peck across your neck and jawline before meeting yours. “I think it worked.”

“Think what worked?” You asked, still trying to come to in your blissed out state, gently combing your fingers through the sweat ridden curls of Javi’s hair, giggling as he knowingly ghosted his fingers across your stomach, smiling to himself at your ticklish laughter.

“The stress relief. God, I love you. I’ll never know what the fuck I ever did to deserve you, but I won’t question it. Thank you, baby.” Javi grinned, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, leaving his other arm to wrap around your waist and pull him closer to his chest.

“I love you, too, Jav. Glad I could help. Hopefully this was enough motivation to get you through the rest of your work.”

As you started to scoot yourself off Javi’s lap to clean up the mess of arousal, clothes, and a few scattered papers you had left in your wake, you were taken aback to feel his grip tighten around you, holding you in place.

“It’s gonna be a long night, because I’m not even close to being done.” Javi smirked, his tongue darting between his lips as his eyes darkened with a hungry gaze.

“Then you need to let me get off you, you goofball. Last time I checked, your naked wife sitting on your lap isn’t helping anyone to get paperwork done.” You teased, playfully crossing your arms over your chest, tilting your head at Javi in a mix of sass and confusion until a shriek of surprise escaped from your chest as Javi stood up to set you on top of his desk, caging his broad body over yours.

“Oh I’m done with all of this shit,” He paused, gesturing to his desk before letting his kisses lazily trail down your body until he was on his knees with your legs draped over his shoulders, spreading them open to reveal the swollen and glistening mess still between your thighs, “but there’s not a chance in hell I’m done with you.”

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betterthana-six · 8 months ago

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| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER ONE |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: this is my first story ive ever published here. please be kind! i am fragile lol. this is definitely a slow burn, but lots of pining, yearning, and, yes, smut to come. TRUST. so, mdni. there are a lot of flashbacks between now and when they met so we get the full story eventually. this is more of a light hearted story but it does deal with coming to terms with sexuality (and who best to help you along that journey but rugby playing and stoic Abby Anderson?). anyways, i hope that the five people who might read this like it. I've proofread but, like, nobody's perfect. if people like this and want it as a series, ill make a more personalized playlist for it.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Music To My Ears: Chapter 1

Abby is in your dorm room stretched out in bed with a book in her hands when she hears voices coming from outside. She watches the shadows dance in the light that extends under the door and into the room. It’s late. Abby hasn’t seen you all day.

She tries to go back to reading, but her eyes glaze over the words almost immediately. Someone is leaning on the door, off and on making the hinge jingle in a way that is most times ignorable. Drunk students came through all the time, lingering in the hallways and leaning on the doors. But it isn’t ignorable now, not for Abby.

The voices are muffled. They sound like they’re… giggling. One giggle is definitely yours. Abby could spot it from a mile away. The other’s is unfamiliar. Abby’s been reading the same passage over and over again and doesn’t even realize it.

It goes quiet outside and this time Abby closes the book, suddenly over-aware of her surroundings. She looks up at the reading light hanging from the headboard and instinctively switches it off. But she doesn’t want it to look like she turned it off because of them? She turns it on again without thinking and turns it off again, quickly entertaining the idea of faking sleep and listening in. With her hand on the switch Abby stops, realizing that they might start noticing the light going on and off and think she’s trying to signal something. She shakes her head at herself with embarrassment. She covers her face with both her hands. So stupid… she says under her breath.

It’s been quiet for so long out there. But the shadows are still there. Abby lays down in bed and forfeits to her desire to eavesdrop. As icky as it makes her feel.

Your voice comes through finally.

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Don’t look at me like that.” An unfamiliar voice chimes in. It’s a woman’s voice. Abby couldn’t tell if she was feigning some sort of annoyance with you or if it was genuine.

“Like what?”

A silence passes.

You sigh loudly. “Well, what’d you think of what I sent you? That wasn’t a cheap effort, you know. Full body mirror in the ladies’ locker room. Not too shabby.”

“You have to stop…” The other voice says, with a playful twinge that makes Abby’s curiosity perk up like dog ears.

“Stop what? I can’t send you photos?” Your voice tells Abby you were in some daze, in the same way she could sometimes hear singers smile through their lyrics. Just thinking about you out there in the hall hanging onto the door and onto each of her words, shining your big green eyes at her. It sends a shiver down Abby’s spine.

“Not anymore,” the stranger says casually. “It was really good seeing you tonight but I have a boyfriend, remember? And I’ve told him about…us. High school. He knows… is the thing. He thinks I’m studying for midterms right now.”

You laugh at that. In a sweet way, though. “Right,” you say and you sigh, seemingly unaffected by the reminder. “Jeremy?”

“Jeremiah,” the woman corrects.

“God, that’s even worse.”

Abby snorts, basically smashing her lips shut with her hand, and then rages at herself silently in the dark for fear they may have heard her.

“Did you… even look at them?” you ask. God, are you drunk? Abby has now given up on the book entirely, laying up on one elbow to stare at the door, imagining the conversation visually.

A laugh from the woman. Mumbling now, feigning sheepishness, “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And…I think…about them, about you. Of course.” Abby’s hands are clasped together, tightening around one another at this.

“Yeah…?” you draw out the stranger’s words seductively with your own. Abby imagines you in the long, maroon dress you typically wear for special occasions. Was this a special occasion? She nearly has the impulse to check your closet just to be sure, but that’s crazy and much more invasive that what she was already doing. Her knuckles are turning white.

“And I think in another universe, maybe. Not this one. I can’t. You know why,” the stranger says sheepishly. “You’re so sweet.” And, in Abby’s imagination, there’s a dainty, gloved hand reaching out to caress your face condescendingly. The illusion entrances her to near paralysis.

A long pause from you. Abby listens hard, completely unable to stop herself from paying close attention now. In the near silence, Abby could sense your breath faltering through the door. Despite how the two of you left things, she didn’t want to see you hurting like that. Say something… Abby thinks.

When Abby hears you speak again, the sweetness in your voice has vanished. She nearly doesn’t recognize the sound.

“Fuck…” There’s a lump in your throat, Abby could tell just from your voice when you were smiling and, just as easily, she could hear when you were about to burst into tears. “Why… why did you invite me out tonight then?”

No answer.

“You have a boyfriend…” you continue in a matter-of-factly tone, raising your voice a bit, to Abby’s surprise. “Jeremy…yeah, so you’ve explained. Great guy, great future. So, you have the boyfriend, the good job lined up, you’re almost done with college. Man, you’re doing fucking great.” Abby’s mouth was left agape, her heart cheering with unwarranted pride for you, urging you on to read this stranger to filth. “Why start texting me again?” You ask.

“You’re here,” the woman clarifies indignantly, like it should be obvious. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t know you transf-”

“That’s not what I’m ask- why’d you ask me out tonight?” You cut her off. “Purely to fuck with me?”

“No…”

“No, what? I’m just- I’ve always just been here at your disposal. Ever since we were teens. Chasing my tail around like a dumb dog, waiting for her master to one day be unashamed to be seen with me.” Abby’s hand travels to her mouth now in delight. She’s smirking like a clown, fully impressed with you. But, you were in tears at this point. Abby knew by now that, only drunk, would you show your tears like that. “Abby was right,” you mutter. Abby almost didn’t hear you.

“I’m gonna go,” the woman said. “It was good seeing you tonight.” It sounded like more of a question than a genuine statement. And then the sound of footsteps, a shadow moving away and then out of sight.

“Yeah. Go, for fuck’s…” You say messily. You were definitely not sober. And then Abby hears your body thud against the door one last time and senses you sliding down to the floor. She hears the tears. Abby instinctively began to get up, feeling the need to see you, talk to you, hold you.

But she stopped herself. You wouldn’t even talk to her a few hours ago, why would you want her comfort now?

***

At that point in time, you and Abby were seasoned roommates. Well, not seasoned. You guys were in that awkward in-between stage of knowing each other where you’d half-memorized each other's schedules but there wasn’t any synchronicity to your dynamic yet. Changing clothes in the same room was still very touch-and-go.

However, when you first met there was immediate tension. It was winter then, and transferring colleges midway through sophomore year meant knowing absolutely no one. At least, you thought, you would have a roommate. But, when you first met, Abby was so much… harder. And, she was stoic and casual in a way that threw you off entirely.

“Are you looking through my shit?”

“No!” You said stiffly, whipping your head around to catch sight of the figure in the door. But, there you were. You stood fixed on her side of the room, where you just had your eyes deeply focused on the engraved rugby medals hanging on the shelf, her shelf. You were caught red handed and the lie came out of your mouth readily and in a panic. Abby was already smirking.

“Yes,” you corrected yourself. “Sorry. I don’t know why I lied. But I’m just looking. I’m not going through it, per say, I promise.”

Abby laughed and rolled her eyes. “Calm down. It’s fine.”

You smile and take five awkward steps over to your side where your bed was just a bare, blue mattress and your luggage rested waiting to be unpacked. It was a stark comparison between our sides of the room even still. Her bed was military neat, with perfectly tucked in covers and a single pillow centered at the head. The medals were all lined up but in a way that didn’t look too showy. Some polaroids were tucked into the creases between her window and the sill. Your suitcases were patterned and scuffed badly on the corners. Littered across them all were stickers you had found from anywhere you could find them. Your clothes made you look avant garde compared to Abby and you had a sudden knot in your stomach that told you to feel self-conscious.

“They didn’t tell you who was moving in here, did they?” you asked.

“Ah. Typical administration shit. I didn’t even know someone was moving in today,” she explained, throwing her gym bag down onto her bed and then turning to you with an open hand to shake. “Abby.”

You shook her hand, returning her name with yours. You noticed the way Abby looked deeply into your eyes for a long second, too long for a first introduction. And the way she smirked at you while she did it confounded you; it was the same way someone held out their hand to a stray cat. To be fair, that was an accurate analogy. You were clad in winter jackets with a flushed face whereas she was radiating heat, skin almost steaming under her gym clothes. Her hands were rugged, you noticed.

“Well,” Abby said, turning to her bed and unzipping her gym bag. “I’ve been told I’m a good roommate. By no one actually. You’re the first roommate I’ve had since the first half of my freshman year. Uh…I keep to myself. I need quiet most nights because I get up early, so no boyfriends over on weekdays.”

You nodded along when she turned to you and sat on the edge of her bed wearing a slight grimace at that last idea. “But if you do, do me a favor and just text me beforehand. Don’t want to be walking in on any man butt.” You laughed a bit loudly at that. You just shook your head.

“No. That won’t be a problem,” you said. Abby caught your eye suspiciously and cracked a small and crooked smile.

“Okay,” Abby said. She turned back around, grabbed a towel from her drawers, and threw it on the bed. Then, she casually lifted her sweaty wife beater up over her head and it’s only then that you look at Abby long enough to notice her size and shape. She was severe, and you’d been so caught up in meeting her, you didn’t necessarily take in her physical appearance. But now that she faced away you could see the sheer definition of her body, starting at the dimples on her lower back trailing up to her massive shoulders. All of it glistening with a polished coat of sweat. And the rest… it would take a few more interactions to even comprehend all of her.

She must have sensed the eyes on her back because she turned around. You looked away quickly, trying busy yourself with the things around you, but there was nothing.

“Sorry,” your cheeks flushed red. But Abby was full frontal, positioned now with her messy hair unbraided, sprawled around her shoulders, grinning at you. She paused for a moment, maintaining eye contact, with only a towel around her waist.

But then she just shrugged, grabbed her toiletries, and said, “Later.”

You watched her leave. Watched her with wide eyes as she opened the door with one hand and used the other one to lazily cover her chest as she headed towards the showers. You even heard her say “sup” to someone on her way.

Alone, you felt the rush of the moment channel directly to your stomach and burst like flames across your face.

***

That was just the beginning. Abby thinks of it now.

Now, face up on her bed, contemplating her next move, Abby recalls you as you were. She was immediately taken with you, that first day. Your wide eyes and timidity around her. Abby's own stupid, casual arrogance. Obviously, as Abby quickly learned later, that first impression of you was not at all fully representative of the truth.

Maybe if she had stopped then, stopped the teasing, stopped what she intended to be light, meaningless flirting, Abby wouldn’t be hesitating to open the door. Perhaps she would be opening the door to find you in tears, take your face in her hands and tell you everything she’d been aching to say for three months now.

Abby gets up off her bed and walks to the door. She squeezes the handle, takes a breath, and then turns it slowly.

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Chapter 2

#the last of us part 2 #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby x fem!reader #abby x you #tlou2

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nininikki · 1 year ago

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divorced-ish — n. kento

content warnings: ex-husband!nanami, delusional!nanami (he’s cute tho)

author’s note: sigh i need him

ex-husband!nanami who just couldn’t stay away from you if he tried

ex-husband!nanami who you’d originally separated from on account of his work seeming to hold more priority over you, and then your newborn daughter.

ex-husband!nanami who still keeps a photo of you and the baby on his desk at his job (which, ironically, was the thing that ultimately led to his marriage failing). when asked by his nosey secretary why he still kept the photo, he only responded, “it’s my family. why wouldn’t i?”

ex-husband!nanami who had yet to actually finalize the divorce. but really, it wasn’t his fault. he just hadn’t gotten around to sending the papers over (or having them printed up at all), what with all those crazy shifts at work. oh, well, it didn’t matter. he would do it at some point.

ex-husband!nanami who had left you virtually everything in the not-so-finalized-divorce. the four bedroom, four bathroom house, your diamond 6 carat engagement ring, your wedding china, the aston martin db9 he had gifted you for your birthday, the park avenue apartment, the country house in monaco—all of it.

ex-husband!nanami who you had never been able to turn down whenever he stayed over just a little later after dropping the baby back off with you. the two of you would sit on the couch and catch up over a glass of wine. then one glass turned to two, then two to three. and for a minute it would almost feel as if you were still married.

nanami never ended up leaving until the late hours of the night. by which point you began to wonder where he’d gotten all the free time he couldn’t seem to find when you were actually married.

ex-husband!nanami who internally scoffed whenever you mentioned going on a date with another man.

“do you think you could watch her on saturday? i’ve got a date i really don’t wanna miss.” you’d asked at the tail end of an already too long (thirty minute) phone call.

nanami breathed a recognizable, pensive sigh on the other end, chewing through what he’d earlier told you was tempura, but considering how long it was taking him to answer, it may as well have been your nerves.

“you know i will, but, uh,” you heard him swallow. “a date?”

although your ex-husband didn’t exactly sound like he was joking, you couldn’t help the giggle that vibrated through your body. glancing at the clock on your nightstand that read eight-thirty and the baby sleeping soundly in the crib next to your bed, you propped the house phone between your ear and shoulder. what was the harm in killing another thirty minutes?

“yes, kento, a date. his name is scott. he’s an art dealer. i think you’d like him.”

“does scott know you’re still married?”

“separated,” you corrected him. “and no, he doesn’t. do you tell every woman who asks you out that you’re married?”

nanami hesitated for a second before answering, “yes, i do.”

ex-husband!nanami who came to your house with flowers and a store bought pumpkin pie for thanksgiving. more than you’d like to admit, you liked having him around for the holidays. he was so good with the baby, and so attentive to everything else. cleaning up all the leftovers and stray baby toys as the night came to an end.

it was nearing ten o’clock when he had successfully put the baby to sleep, and then came down to help you tidy up the downstairs. “y’know you didn’t have to buy a pie, right?” you told him after you’d discovered it hidden amongst the array of leftover pots and aluminum pans. “i know it’s your favorite. i’d have made you some.”

nanami brought his task at hand (loading the dishwasher) to a stiff halt and joined you at the island countertop. “but hey,” you added, tearing the lid off the pie. “we could see if it’s as good as the real thing.”

your ex-husband, usually the most well-spoken man you knew, could only stiffly nod in your direction while you retrieved a pair of shiny silver forks, still in the drawer they’d always been in. “and i got some whipped cream if you want.” you added as you gave him a fork, now taken aback by his sudden lack of speech. seriously, he hadn’t spoken this little since the year leading up to your separation.

what you didn’t know was that nanami couldn’t speak if he wanted to. he needed this. the three of you hadn’t had a real holiday together since last halloween, and even that was admittedly very bleak. “i miss you,” nanami blurted.

and he did. he missed your desserts for every holiday—savory pumpkin pie for thanksgiving, sweet apple pie for christmas, strawberry eclairs for valentine’s day. he missed opening his eyes every morning to the sight of your face smushed into a pillow, or a bit of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth. he missed coming home from work to the sight of you and the baby sound asleep on the couch. he missed being your husband, and even more knowing you were his wife.

ex-husband!nanami who spent the night fucking his ex-wife into the couch as though they were still married. wrapping you in his strong arms, while murmuring promises of change and betterment. “i’ll never go to work again, swear,” he said, shuddering between deep thrusts. “please just take me back, baby.”

#nikki writes ✶#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen angst #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami kento x black reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst

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lillypad910 · 1 month ago

Text

Christmas with the Emersons

Eddie Munson x Emerson! Girly! Fem! Reader

Part 2 of Brother's Best Friend!

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! Smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, pin, protected sex (follow their example!), a lot of fluff, giggly cuteness, Christmas celebrations, not pre-read, might have errors, Reader is Gareth's little sister

Summary: After 6 months of dating Eddie, you're reminded of the Christmas get together your family throws every year. This time, Eddie is invited- or, "your boyfriend" is, since your family isn't aware of that person being Eddie Munson yet. Will they be excited for you? Or will your brother have something to say about it?

a/n: this took so long and I know its late but shush.

Big thanks to my girl Mare at @munsonsmixtapes for giving me her time to help me wrap this bitch up!

It is December 1st of 1992, the cold air outside leaks through your not-greatly-sealed windows into your apartment. Your heater broke on you last week, and you’ve been waiting for the landlord to send a guy to fix it. Fortunately, your new-ish boyfriend was kind enough to stick around until it’s fixed.

Lounging across the couch, on top of your boyfriend, Eddie, you bury yourself into his chest. He chuckles as your hair spreads across his skin, pulling the blanket that’s wrapped around you both more over your shoulders. “You ok, sweetheart?” He asks, running his fingers through your hair to clear a spot for you to look up at him through.

You do so, blowing air to push a strand he missed out of the way, “No, I’m cold.” You give him a playful glare, not actually meaning it, of course.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” he wraps his arms around you more snuggly, “I know another way to warm you up…” he smirks. Your cheeks flush, slapping your forehead against his chest once again, making him laugh.

To be honest, even though you and Eddie have been dating for 5 months now, since that fateful concert back in June, you haven’t done anything…physical. Besides the heated make out sessions and getting to your underwear before backing out. Thankfully, Eddie is really understanding about it all.

“Not… yet.” You mentally groan out the words, straining your brain.

His lips press to your forehead, smiling softly, “I know, Sweetheart, I was just teasing.” He pulls you closer to him, sitting up in his spot on the couch. He places his finger around your chin pulling you towards him, pressing his lips to yours. You hum into the kiss, still amazed at how you were able to actually start dating your teenage-self’s crush.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, as his tongue swipes your bottom lip. Just as his tongue breaches your lips- your phone rings.

You groan, dropping your head to his shoulder for a second before pushing off of him, yanking the blanket with you. He is yanked off the couch in the process, a soft yelp leaves him as you make your way to the counter where your phone is stationed.

“Hello?” You answer, holding the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Sweetie! It’s Mom!” Your mother’s recognizable voice echos through the speaker, her cheerful attitude as perky as ever.

“Hey, Mom,” you glance at Eddie as his head pops up to look at you as you address who you are talking to, “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing much, just trying to figure out what we are all doing for this year’s Christmas party, you know. Now that Garrett is married, you have a whole new boyfriend none of us have met before, everything’s different.”

You never told your family who you were dating, not even his name. You just said you started seeing someone, and that you promised they would meet him when you brought him home. You didn’t think about the Christmas party your parents host every year when you made that promise. That’s bad planning on your end.

“Oh yeah…” you hesitate, “I honestly kinda forgot, haha…” your mom hums in response.

“I figured as much, but not to worry! I’ve already got your room all ready for you to arrive in two weeks. And when you and that mysterious boy get here, you can help us go pick out a tree, decorate it, help me prep meals and all the goodies for-“

Your mother talks on and on about all the tasks you will have to do when you get there. You like Christmas, you really do, especially when you were still at home and could help your mom prepare everything so early in the month to make sure everything was perfect. “The Emerson Way” as your dad called it, perfection was the only outcome for Christmas. But god, did you just wanna stay home, in your cold apartment with your warm-bodied boyfriend.

“Mom,” you call out to her, and she shushes herself quickly, “let me talk about it with him, ok? I need to be sure he can even come this year.” You explain.

She gasps, “Oh my lord, of course!! I’ll let you go so you can give him a call. I love you!”

“Love you, Mom.” You hang up the phone.

Obviously you are not about to call Eddie Munson’s apartment, so you turn around. “Eds, code red. It’s Christmas.” Eddie looks at you confused, finally lifting himself off the ground.

“Yeah? I know, it’s December.” He chuckles a bit.

“No, Eddie, you don’t get it. It’s Christmas. The Emerson’s Christmas Party?” You gesture to your phone as you watch him blink.

God, you love him but sometimes his brain is ‘head empty, no thoughts’.

“Sweetie,” you step closer to him, placing your hands on the sides of his face. “My family hosts a party every Christmas Eve. I’m a required guest, and now so are you.” It hits him.

“Oh- Oh no.” Eddie hasn’t spoken to your brother, his ex best friend, in six years. At the time they were besties you were a simple 16 year old girl that he never thought of as more than just ‘Gareth’s little sister.’ Now you’re his girlfriend. “Oh I’m dead. Oh sweetheart, he’s gonna kill me.” Eddie hisses in a breath, wrapping his arms around himself. He may have just been cold but you also think it’s because he’s genuinely uncomfortable with this news.

“He’s not gonna kill you, Gareth doesn’t have the heart for that. Besides, Cindy wouldn’t let him even if he tried. Can’t have her husband in jail with a baby on the way.” You let out a soft laugh, trying to joke.

“Eds, I promise it will be fine.” You give his nose a soft kiss. “When do we leave…?” He asks, eyes wide with anticipation. “Two weeks…?” You awkwardly smile. He yelps.

The two weeks fly by fast, and before you know it, it’s December 14th and you’re passing the ‘Wecome to Hawkins’ sign as you cross over the town line.

“Haven’t seen that sign in a while.” Eddie speaks genuinely, it has been 6 years since he was last in Hawkins.

“Oddly enough I’ve seen it more in recent years than I ever did living in Hawkins.” You explain to him, watching the trees pass the car as you come into familiar territory.

Driving up the long driveway of your home you see a familiar car parked outside, your brother’s car. You and Eddie glance at each other, before turning off the car and stepping out onto the pavement into the cold crisp air of Hawkins, Indiana.

You don’t grab your luggage just yet, too nervous to bother with it right now. As you step towards the front door, Eddie follows close after.

It’s weird, he’s always felt welcomed at your house in the past, felt like part of the family. But now he feels like a total stranger, like a bear stepping into a bush with a hidden trap.

You ring the doorbell, rolling back and forth on your heels as you wait impatiently for the bright smile of your mother. “Coming!!” You hear a sing-song voice call out, and you’re both able to get in one final deep breath before the front door opens.

“(Y/n)!” Your mother opens the door, all smiles like usual, pulling you into a hug, “It’s so good to see you, dear!” She pulls away and looks up at Eddie. “Well as I live and breathe!” She smiles at him. “Is that really you, Eddie Munson? My, you’ve grown quite a lot!” She holds up her hand to graze his head before pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie hugs her back.

When she pulls away she smiles happily, “Oh, please, call me Donna, Eddie. I’ve known you since you were a kid! It’s only fair.” She turns back to you after patting his arm. “Sweetie, I thought you said you were bringing your boyfriend? Not that I’m complaining, Eddie Munson is forever a welcome face in this house,” she smiles at him again before facing you once more.

“Mom,” you smile at her, “meet my boyfriend.” You gesture to Eddie beside you. “Eddie.”

Donna Lynn Emerson looks up at Eddie, her smile growing wider before her eyes close and few words leave her breath, “Oh thank you, Jesus.” “What?” You ask. “Sweetie, I love you, you know that,” you mom pats your arm, “but when you told us you weren’t gonna tell us anything about your boyfriend until we met him, we all thought he was gonna be some biker or gang member.”

She turns to Eddie and taps the side of her head, “Parents brains go to the worst outcomes.” “So… you’re not mad…?” You ask, a little shocked by the chill reaction.

“(Y/n), you’ve had a crush on this boy since you were 14. You’re living the teenage girl dream, Sweetie, I don’t judge.” She smiles at you, “Besides, It’s Eddie. I know his Uncle, knew his dad, his mom, shit I knew this kid’s grandma on both sides.” She laughs to herself.

“But we are four years apart…? That doesn’t concern you?” Your mom’s face go dead serious, making the both of you jump at the sudden change in expression.

“Sweetie, I’m 7 years younger than your dad, and we married when I was 19. You’re a 22 year old woman who can make her own choices.”

“Anyways!! Come in!! Get out of the cold!” She drags you both into the house.

Stepping into the familiar entry way, you take off your coats and shoes, sitting them by the door and respectable hooks. You mother leads you both into the kitchen, where you are met with a very familiar face.

“Cindy!” You smile and run up to the girl, throwing your arms around her. “(Y/n)!! Hi!” Cindy laughs and pulls you to her, but you be careful not to squish her too hard on her belly.

Gareth and Cindy got married nearly two years ago now during February of 1991. They met 5 years ago when Gareth moved away for college. You will never forget that Christmas of 1988 when you met her, been friends ever since. You honestly questioned who side you would be on if they divorced. You love your brother, but it’s Cindy.

“How have you been? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call you last week, life got a little hectic.” She laughs running her hand over her baby bump.

“I’ve been good! And no worries! My heater broke a couple weeks ago so I’ve been just shivering in the cold since then, honestly this might be my vacation.” You laugh a bit.

She giggles before turning her attention to Eddie, “This must be the guy!!” She holds out her hand to him, “So lovely to finally meet you! (Y/n) never told us your name so I apologize for the awkwardness of the family.”

Eddie shakes her hand, smiling at her, “oh it’s fine, I actually-”

“Munson?” A voice comes from behind you all and Cindy tilts her head.

You both turn around and there in the door way is your dear brother. “Shit. Holly shit!” Gareth, as if reverting back to 17 practically tackles his old friend. “Dude! It’s been what? Almost seven years? Where the fuck did you go?” He pulls away, smacking his old friend’s arm.

Eddie looks like a relief was weighed off him, “I needed to get out of town, moved to Indianapolis, been living there ever since, though I’ve actually gone on tour a few times now.” Eddie snickers and Gareth chuckles.

“Yeah, no shit! Jeff and I found out there was a band called ‘Corroded Coffin’ and nearly fainted!” He turns to his wife who smiles at him. “Oh! Eddie,” Gareth squeezes through the two of you, wrapping his arms around the woman your age, “meet Cindy. She’s my wife.” He’s practically glowing when sharing this knowledge.

Eddie tilts towards you and not even bothering to whisper goes, “I see why you say they are meant for each other.” You snicker and Gareth glares at you.

A moment of laughter washes over all of you though, but Gareth stops first, “so, why are you here, man? Not that I’m complaining, just-“

“Oh!” Eddie, blissfully innocent Eddie, smiles at his old best friend before throwing his arm around your shoulders. “I’m (y/n)’s mystery boyfriend! Isn’t that cool?” As if clockwork, Gareth’s arms drop from his wife, his smile drops, and he stares at Eddie.

“I’m sorry,” he glances at you before looking back at the tall guy, “repeat that?”

“Eds-“ you go to press your arm against him.

“I’m her boyfriend! Isn’t that cool?” Eddie chuckles a bit, obviously more nervous than the first time he said it.

“You son of a-“ Gareth doesn’t even finish before tackling him, arm wrapped around his neck, locking him in a choke hold. Eddie flails around like a fish out of water, “I told you she’s off limits! When the fuck in all those years did I stutter!”

Gareth bumps into everything almost knocking over Grandma’s vase before, “Gareth!” The entire house goes silent. Your mother, the sweet woman that she is, struts into the kitchen and practically rips your brother off your boyfriend. “Eddie, dear, are you ok?”

“Him!?” Gareth yells, utterly shocked.

“Yes, Gareth! Him!” She glared at him, making your brother’s back go pencil straight.

Gotta hand it to Mom, she’s a sweet one, but god damn you don’t wanna be in the cross fire of her glare.

“I’m ok, Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck, “kinda deserves that honestly.” He lets out a chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you step forward, turning towards the nitwit you call a brother. “Off limits?”

“Oh,” Gareth hesitates, “I made the guys promise to never date you. I know them, trust me you don’t wanna know everything about them.” You gesture to Eddie.

“Kinda been living under the same roof with this one for a good few weeks now, trust me what ever you know, I know.” Eddie blushes covering his face in his hands.

“Sweetheart, no…” He knew what Gareth was meaning, and god knows you have not discovered yet.

“What?” You question.

“I hate to ask, but if I don’t it’s gonna bother me,” Gareth takes a deep breath, “Have you two-“

“no!” You speak a little too quickly for everyone in the room, “no… not- oh my god, Gareth. Why are you like this?” You hold your head in your hands.

Gareth raises his hands up defensively. “Sorry.”

It doesn’t take long for everyone to get comfortable again. Gareth takes Eddie out to the garage with your dad and talks, you, your mom, and Cindy all stand around the kitchen, helping your mom do some Christmas baking.

“So,” your mom smiles at you, “Where did you meet Eddie again? He mentioned living in Indianapolis?” You roll the rolling pin over the homemade cookie dough on the counter, pressing it flat.

“Steph had tickets to his show, though I didn’t know it was his show when she invited us.” You explain, checking the width of the flattened dough.

“That’s fun! Did you meet him during the show?”

“Half time, and then met up with him again after. Jenny was there too.”

“How is Jenny? I haven’t seen her in a while.” Your mother changes the subject.

“Good, she’s dating this new guy, I’ve met him once. He’s cool.”

“Good for her.” Your mother smiles.

Cindy comes up by you with the container of cookie cutters. You both take a few and start cutting out Christmas shapes from the dough. “It’s good to have you home.” Cindy nudges you with her shoulder, “This town is so boring without you.”

“Aww, thanks, Cindy.” You smile at her.

“Your father has been a pain, claiming he needs to come see you every week. I kept telling him off about it.” Your mother jumps in.

“Gareth too, when you called us and complained about your heating being out, he was about to drive down and come fix it for you.” Cindy chimes in. You giggle at their claims, happy to know your brother and father still want to take care of you even though you’re a good bit away now.

After a little more baking and cookie decorating, the men come back in from the garage, beers empty and ready to eat. Eddie steps over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and hugging you from behind. He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Having fun?” You ask him, smiling at the small kiss.

“Yeah, it’s nice to catch up with your dad and Gareth.” He leans his head against yours.

After you all eat, your mother notices the time, and quickly shoos everyone off to bed. “We need to get up bright and early! Tree shopping isn’t going to do itself!”

You step up to your old room, Eddie close behind you as you open the door. “Whoa,” Eddie mumbles from behind you. You look across the room. It’s the exact same, the pink walls, white carpet, and baby blue bed spread.

“Don’t judge,” you glance back at him before stepping in, dropping your bag - that you finally got from the car - onto the floor.

Eddie steps into the room, glancing around at the pictures you have on your walls. There’s a painting he remembers you painted in art in your Freshman year, the mirror over your dresser, and a ABBA poster taped on your closet door.

As he steps closer to your mirror, he looks over the photos tucked into the frame. Pictures of you and Jenny in middle school, you and Gareth in the yard as little kids, and one more. You and him, a picture Gareth took the night you were at their concert back then. He was smiling at the camera in that picture, his arm thrown over your shoulders.

“That’s cute.” You look over at him, seeing the photo he points to.

“Oh- um, yeah…” you feel your cheeks heating up, looking back down at your bag. Eddie steps closer to you, placing his hand on you cheek and pulling you closer to him. His lips press to your forehead, soft and sweet.

“You’re cute,” his words are simple but to the point. “You make it hard to forget,” you let out a soft laugh.

The next morning, you wake in your old bed, the alarm on your night stand ringing out. You press the ‘off’ button before throwing yourself back against the mattress. You look over to where you left your boyfriend last night, but the spot is already empty. Then, the door to your room opens.

Stepping into the dim room, Eddie smiles at you with a mug in hand, “good morning, sweetheart. I brought you some coffee.” He makes his way around the bed as you sit up, before hanging the mug over to you.

Taking it you look down at the contents of the mug. “You didn’t have to do that, Eds, but thank you.”

“Of course!” He crouches down by the bed, smiling like a kid in a candy store as you take your first sip.

“Mm! You’re making my coffee every morning now. This is so good.”

After a semi-slow morning, you come downstairs fully dressed and ready for the day, your family all ready in the kitchen. “Finally, the bear leaves her cave.” Gareth snickers. You roll your eyes at him, “Oh, shut up.”

Your family piles into your mom’s Chevy Suburban. Your dad driving, mom shotgunning, Cindy and you in the middle row, and Eddie and Gareth in the back. The ride is nice, your mom having the Christmas station playing on the radio, with you and Cindy (mostly) perfectly singing every song it plays. Gareth and Eddie banging their hands against the back of your seats to the beat.

After your dad pulls the SUV into the local “Mary’s Trees,” the place everyone in Hawkin’s buys their Christmas trees, you all fumble out of the brick on wheels, Eddie nearly falling out himself. You all are quickly greeted by an associate, one you remember well from high school.

“Welcome, Emerson Family!” Tiffany Fraser, a girl who was on the cheer squad in your high school, smiles and greets your mom and dad with open arms. Her blond hair blown out and curled, perfectly pulled back into a high pony tail. “Coming by a little later this year, but don’t worry, I have some perfect trees to show you!”

Your mother smiles at Tiffany and loops arms with her before letting herself be dragged off, “Please share! I’ve been dying to get decorating!”

It doesn’t take long for your parents and brother to begin to make their way through the forest of Christmas trees for sale. You take this opportunity to fall back and hang with your obviously intrigued boyfriend.

Eddie’s eyes dart all around the area, the subtle glitter in his eye reminds you of childhood wonder. “You doing ok, Eds?” You ask him, stepping into an easy pace with him as you both follow behind your family.

“Hmm?” Eddie’s head snaps to your direction, before getting distracted again, “Yeah, yeah… didn’t realize how many trees would be here. How do you pick just one?”

You blink. What?

“What do you mean?” The question came out a little more harsh than you intended but you were genuinely confused, “have you never been tree shopping before?”

“I mean…” Eddie hesitates.

He had gone with his uncle Wayne once to pick out a tree. Though it was in a box and he had gotten it from one of the few chain stores in Hawkins. It’s a memory he will hold on to forever.

“Once. With Wayne, but it was a fake tree. I didn’t realize people actually bought real trees to decorate.” His eyes glance over the rows and rows of living trees that the farm has on display.

Something about that made you feel weird. You never even thought about that. Eddie grew up in the trailer park down the road with his Uncle Wayne. They wereon the poorer side, not having much money and Eddie mostly wearing hand-me-downs from Wayne until he could buy his own clothes. For some reason you didn't realise how different you two grew up. But suddenly this Christmas tree meant more to you.

"Hey, Mom?" You get your mother's attention, and she turns to you, stopping her conversation with Tiffany.

"Yes, dear?" Her voice is as joyful as always.

“In honor of Eddie joining us this year, can he pick the tree?" You know you're asking for a lot from your family, especially your mother. Donna Lynn loves Christmas. She loves to have full control over it.

"What a great idea!" Her voice seems to go higher, causing people around you to glance over, "Of course! Eddie, please do us the honors of picking out the tree this year!" Eddie glances at you with a look of pure concern. You pat his back lightly and lead him towards the front of the party. "Tiffany, you remember Eddie from high school, right?" Your mother asks her.

You remember Tiffany hated your brother and his friends in high school, and now she was being made to be nice to him.

"I do, nice to see you again, Eddie." Tiffany smiles and you can tell its a bit strained. She continues with, "Let me show you some trees they might like, that way you at least know you did something right..." The second part was mumbled under her breath, but you heard it, and so did Eddie based on his expression.

"What was that?" You ask, quite loudly so your mother looks over, interested. "Hmm?" Tiffany looks over at you, "oh nothing, just speaking to myself, haha." She turns around quickly after getting a weird look from your mother, but luckely no further comment was made.

It takes a while of Tiffany showing the metalhead different trees, him getting your mother's input before he finally decides on a wide 7ft tree. The cielings in your house were taller downstairs so your mom told him it was alright. When you got home, the boys help move the tree into the living room, while your mom, Cindy, and you migrated to the kitchen. The first thing you noticed on the island was the Christmas recipe tin from your Granny.

"Are we making anything tonight?" Cindy asks, situating herself on one of the stools as she opens the tin to go thorugh the recipes. You walk up behind her and lean over her shoulder.

“We can, but it will have to make something that will be fine for the next week." Donna replies, washing her hands at the kitchen sink. "Any ideas?" Cindy looks up to you.

"Maybe the Peanut Brittle? Ohh, or the Buckeye Balls!" You snatch the recipe card for the Reese's-like recipe out of the tin the moment you see it.

Your mother giggles, "You did always like that one... How about this, Cindy and I make the Brittle, and you and Eddie make the Buckeye Balls?" your mother suggests. You smile, excited to finally have the best holidy treat just sitting in the fridge, begging to be eaten by none other than yourself.

Eddie comes in with Gareth and your dad, who both walk straight up to their wifes. "Tree is up and ready to be decorated!" Your father sallutes your mother, making her giggle. He kisses her cheek before stepping over to the fridge and pulling out a coke.

"That tree was heavy..." Eddie steps up to you from behind and sits his chin on your shoulder, "Gareth and I both had to hold it straight while your dad bolted it into the stand, but damn."

You nod, leaning your head onto his, "hmm, now think how my dad feels doing that every year while we were kids, and Gareht didn't start helping until he was thirteen." You glance over at your brother who shuffles through the recipe cards.

"Don't look at me like that." Gareth doesn't even look up at you.

“How do you always know?" You ask, which inclines him to turn to you.

"I can feel the burning rays of your eyes staring straight into my head. You've never been a subtle starer."

You smack your hand to your chest, faking insult. "How dare you! I'm an amazing starer!"

Gareth rolls his eyes before looking at Eddie. "This is who you're settling for?"

Oh now you're insulted. "Hey-!"

"Enough!" Your mother gets your attention, making both you and Gareth look over at her, "I'm stopping that before it even begins... God, behave, both of you." 'Behave' was strained, you'd obviously annoyed her with your sibling banter. "Eddie, (y/n), you two make the Buckeyeballs. Gareth, Cindy, would you two make the Peanut Brittle?"

"Of course!" Cindy gives her award winning smile, but your brother just hums in response. "Thank you."

"Wait, what are you and dad gonna go do?" Gareth asks, his teenage self coming through, and you swear you just experienced some deja vu.

“Mom and I are gonna go sit our asses on the cough. You two know the kitchen and where everything is." Your dad answers for your mom.

"Exactly!" She jumps in with a smile, starting to push him towards the living room. "We're old, Gareth! We need a break!"

"You are not old!" Gareth yells as they go through the arch of the kitchen, "And they are gone..."

“Yup" you respond, not even really shocked about your parents ditching you.

“If we were under fifteen I'd say we might be safe to assume a nother sibling before next year, but-"

"Gareth! Ew!" Cindy interrupts.

"Oh please, you’re pregnant, Cin."

You shake your head at your brother's comeback, “I agree it’s gross, I never wanna think about our parent's sex life." Gareth just shruges.

As the four of you look over your recipe cards and begin to pull out the ingredients you need - or rather, you and Gareth get out everything you need - Cindy sets up some Christmas music to play on the stereo in the kitchen corner, while Eddie helps her pick out the first song. It doesn't take long for Jingle Bell Rock to be echoing through the house.

Gareth hogs the stove, heating up his sugar mixture for the Brittle, bickering back and forth with you because he refuses to let you start melting your semi-sweet chocolate chips. Cindy is prepping the pans for you all to use, linning then each with some parchment paper. Eddie is already mixing up the powder sugar, peanut butter, softened butter, and vanila in a large bowl, aproned up - per your request - so he doesnt get dusts of sugar on his new Metalica shirt.

It takes a while, but soon the goodies are done and you are able to finally take a seat.

You and Eddie take refuge on the couch, him laying across first with you laying over him. Gareth takes your dad’s chair, with Cindy sitting just on the arm.

“Well at least we’ve got it done.” Cindy smiles, brushing some of Gareth’s hair out of his face.

“Yeah, still kinda pissed mom and dad didn’t help. Those bitches.” Gareth glares in the direction of the stairs.

Your parents called it a night about two hours ago, coming in the kitchen to say goodnight to you all before shuffling up the stairs giggling like a couple of high schools. It was a little unnerving if you had to be entirely serious with yourself.

“Oh, let them enjoy themselves. They deserve a break after dealing with you for your entire childhood.” Cindy kisses his forehead, earning herself a scoff from your brother but a few well deserved chuckles from you and Eddie.

“I was not the problem child!” Gareth tries to defend himself, glancing over at you. You can’t even defend yourself before Cindy follows up.

“Yes you were.” She smiles at him, glowing under the soft lamp light. “But hey, at least you have your sibling as your child. We’re gonna have a well behaved kid. Poor (y/n) gets you.” She nuzzles into him a bit.

You have to admit, Cindy and your brother were adorable. They perfectly balanced each other, with his annoying antics and her sweet personality.

“Well,” Cindy stands back up after a few more minutes, “I say it’s bed time! Lord knows your mother will come barging into our rooms in the morning.” She does a quick stretch before taking Gareth’s hand, pulling him up from his spot. “Goodnight you two! Go to bed soon.” Cindy calls out, dragging the (in denial) man-child up the stairs.

“Goodnight!” You and Eddie call back, watching as Gareth mumbles annoyances under his breath to his wife, who just giggles and waves him off.

“They’re an interesting pair.” Eddie smiles to himself, his arms gripping a bit tighter around your waist.

“They are. But they’re cute.” You express, leaning your head back on his chest. Eddie hums.

His eyes roam down to you as you lay there over him. Your fingers drum over his, playing with his rings, the metal cold to the touch. He cant help but feel a warmth rise in him at the sight of you, the little bit of chocolate still on the corners of your mouth from licking the spoon from your kitchen adventure.

You abruptly turn around, sitting up and straddling his lap, your knees now placed on the outer sides of his thighs. He feels his heart pick up, suddenly nervous as you face him, a soft smile on your lips.

“We should probably go too-“ you’re cut off when Eddie’s lips press to yours. You gasp, caught off guard by the suddenness. His hands press to your hips, dragging you closer to him. Eddie kisses you deeply, before kissing the corners of your mouth, then down your jaw and neck. You can’t help the soft moan that leaves you.

“Eddie-“ you try but your voice catches in your throat when you feel the bulge of his pants as he tries to press you to him. Heat floods your face, suddenly embarrassed. You press your hands to his shoulders, softly pushing at him, which he relents immediately.

“Sorry, just… got carried away.” Eddie mumbles, a bit breathless from the kisses he was giving. “I was just watching you in there and I kept wanting to- ugh.” Eddie runs one hand through his long hair, pushing the strands back. “I know we’ve agreed that we would wait until you’re ready… I didn’t mean to push… just-“

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his again, earning a soft groan from him that ignites something in you. He gently places his hands back on your waist, respecting the boundaries you had originally placed. You pull away just a bit, both of you with your cheeks flushed.

“Eddie,” you call out to him, his chocolate brown eyes stare deep into you. “I-“ you hesitate, feeling your legs twitch as his thumb rubs circles into your hip, “I’d like to…” you glance away from him, embarrassed to say more, but Eddie understands your words.

He leans forward, placing soft kisses on your temple and cheek before you feel his hot breath on your ear. “How about we head out for a bit?”

You both slowly make your way upstairs to your room, but he takes every opportunity to give you little kisses that stops you in your tracks and makes you giggle. When you both make it into your room, you watch him grab his jacket and pull you close for one last gentle kiss.

“Stay here.” He mumbles to you, a simple order that you can’t stop yourself from obeying. You realize you’d probably do anything he asked of you, as long as he pairs it with a soft kiss and that goofy youthful grin you love so much.

“Ok” is all you get out before you watch him exit your room once again, jacket barely on his shoulders as he leaves. You sit on your bed, feeling a little antsy as you wait, your nerves not letting you relax. Then you hear his van start up as he leaves the driveway.

You know he’ll come back. He has to. Eddie wouldn’t ditch you, he’s literally staying here with you. He wouldn’t do that… right?

You keep glancing at the clock, time ticking by as you wait for him to return. 10 minutes turns to 20, 20 to 40.

As the old clock on your nightstand is about to hit midnight something hits your window. You nearly jump out of your own skin as your head snaps towards it. Then another.

And another.

Pebbles.

Wait- pebbles?

Getting up from your bed, you go to your window, looking out to see the metal head of your dreams standing down below, the moon light reflects on his eyes as he looks up to see you there. You notice the few tiny rocks still cupped in his hand.

Was he throwing rocks at your window?

You open the glass that separates you from the cold air, instantly getting a chill as you lift it and stick your head out.

“Eddie? Why are you throwing rocks at my window?”

“I wanted to do that right.”

“What-?”

“Lady (y/n) of the house of Emerson, will you do me the honor of giving me your company on this cold night?” Eddie smiles at you, all teeth as if he’s proud of himself.

You can’t help but feel the butterflies flutter through your stomach as you remember the first time he did this, taking you to their concert when you were 16. The context was different then, a boy taking his best friend’s little sister to see their band. But this time you are his damsel, without the distress and needing saving. But his, nonetheless.

“I would be honored to accompany you, Lord Edward of house Munson.” You can’t help but giggle, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t noticeable to him. But he notices.

You grab your jacket, slipping out of your window just like you did back then, climbing down the cold sturdy vines that line the outside wall of your house.

He catches you just like he did all those years ago, easing you down to the ground. But this time he gives you a small kiss, cupping your face before taking your hand in his and leading you past the yard of your house. To your surprise you realize he parked down the street, as if trying to not gain suspicion from your family.

He leads you to the passenger side, and you can’t help but giggle as he opens the door for you, bowing down with a dramatic “My lady.”

“Thank you,” you hop into the car, buckling up as he shuts the door for you. He scurries his way around the front of the van and into the driver’s seat of the car.

Although he doesn’t play music, the drive is far from quiet. You two giggle and chat back and forth, and you can’t help but feel comfortable. Eddie has always been someone who has tried to make you feel safe around him, and tonight is no exception.

After about a 20 minute drive, Eddie parks the van. Glancing around you don’t recognize the scenery around you.

“Where are we?” You ask him, looking out the window to see the rows of trees that line your sight.

“Lover’s lake. I… I’ve never actually taken anyone here before, believe it or not. But I know it was a big spot when we were in high school.” You can’t help but feel the warm traces of heat rush up to your cheeks, grazing your skin with the ignites of something unknown.

Lover’s Lake?

“You’ve… never brought anyone here?” You ask, a little shocked at the admission. You know Eddie wasn’t… how do you say… everyone’s cup of tea…? But surely he had his share of girlfriends or at least flings in high school.

“No, I mean… I had… experiences in high school, but never brought anyone here. Mostly it was the bathroom stalls at the Hideout after shows.” Eddie mumbles the last part, blabbering to himself. You know by now he never means to, he just can’t help it when he gets nervous.

“I’ve… never had any experiences.” You respond, giving him a shy smile. He matches your smile before gesturing towards the back of the van.

You hesitate before squeezing through the two seats, shoving yourself into the bed of the van. After an abrupt landing, you glance at the arrangement around you. Pillows, blankets, it’s comfy, warm, a stark contrast to the sharp crisp air outside. When you turn back, Eddie is already next to you, fluffy one of the pillows.

“So… um…” you hesitate, nervous for the eventual activities that will happen. “How do we start…”

“Well, we can just kiss for a bit first, and slowly lead into it.” Eddie scoots a little closer to you, his body heat radiating off of him, covering you in a warmth of anticipation.

He leans closer to you, placing his fingers under your chin, tilting you to face him. Eddie’s lips press to yours in a soft kiss that sends butterflies through you. You lean into it, lifting your hand to his cheek. He pulls away just a bit, leaving you a bit breathless.

“You’re really pretty, I hope you know that.” His voice is deeper than usual, huskier almost. It sends a heat to your core that you’ve never felt before.

Leaning forward again, he kisses you once more, shifting his body so he’s more turned towards you. After a few kisses, it becomes more intense. The once soft kisses turn heated and passionate, your hands cling to his clothes, grabbing at his shirt and jacket.

Your hands glide under the leather fabric, pushing it off his shoulders for him. He doesn’t pull away from you, but he shifts his arms back to allow the coat to fall into the floorboards of the van’s backseat. When the restraints of the added weight are gone, Eddie leans more forward, placing his whole palm on the side of your neck, his fingers long enough to reach into your hairline on your nape, his thumb pushing your jaw upwards.

His kisses feel hot and heavy, almost desperate. He pulls away only to leave a kiss on the corner of your lips before trailing down your jaw and neck, the opposite side of his hand.

You take in a deep breath, suddenly aware of how little oxygen you were getting. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the metal head as he pulls the coat off your shoulders. Your breath hitches when you feel him suck on your neck, a soft moan leaving your lips as your hands grip at his shirt.

“Ed- Eddie-!” You’re trapped, your throat in between his hand and head. You don’t mind it, the feeling of his tongue swiping across your warm skin; the way his free hand grips at your thigh doesn’t go unnoticed either.

After a moment, Eddie pulls back, looking at the masterpiece he has left on your neck, the hickeys slowly turning more red. He leaves a soft kiss on one of the more purple ones, a ping of guilt tugging at him as he does so.

He knows it doesn’t hurt, if anything, he hopes you enjoyed it being left there as much as he did.

Eddie pulls back from you, taking the hem of his shirt in his hands before slipping the cotton fabric over his head. You’ve seen him shirtless a few times by now, mostly before bed or when he gets out of the shower in the mornings after he’s stayed over. But this is different. It feels more intimate.

“Oh…” the sound leaves you before you can realize. You see the little grin that tugs at his lips.

“Oh?” Eddie sits back into some of the pillows, leaning his head against the wall of the van. “Like what you see, Sweetheart?”

You don’t know what came over you. A simple surge of confidence, maybe?

You crawl over to him, climbing into his lap. You watch those warm brown eyes widen a bit, taken aback by your sudden forwardness. But he’s eating it up nonetheless. He’s got you right where he wants you and he intends to make this night perfect for you.

“I love what I see,” you bat your eyelashes at him as your hands move up to the top button of your flannel, unbuttoning it slowly as you make eye contact with Eddie.

“Do you like what you see?” You ask as you do a few more buttons, revealing a light pink lacy bra. Eddie’s eyes dart to it, desperate to see what’s underneath but he’s going to wait until you’re ready.

“Love,” he says, the word slow, like it has more meaning than it should. “But I think you’d look good in nothing at all.”

Together, you unbutton your shirt until it’s open, only your bra on display as Eddie pushes it off your shoulders and it falls behind you.

Eddie gently lies you down on the bed of the van and slowly unhooks your bra as he does so, tossing it to the side as a dramatic leaves his mouth.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says as he goes to unbutton your jeans, pulling them down slowly but with force. Once they’re off, he spreads your legs wide, noticing that there’s a wet patch on your underwear and feels himself getting even more hard as he sees how wet he’s gotten you.

He lowers his head down to your cunt and your eyebrows furrow as you try to figure out what he’s doing. He grabs onto the waistband of your panties with his teeth and pulls down slowly, and once they’re off, he pockets them and he spreads your legs even wider, seeing that you’re so wet that your slick has run down your legs.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, leaning up to see exactly where he’s going.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his brown eyes going all soft.

“Of course I do,” you nod and he grins wide.

“Then lie back and enjoy the ride, princess,” he winks then moves his face towards one of your thighs, placing his tongue on it and swiping up, wanting to get every last bit of your slick.

He then moves on to the other one, quicker this time as he’s eager to get on with the main event. He places your legs on his shoulders then dives in shamelessly, the only thing on his mind being your pussy and how delicious he knows it is.

His tongue flattens against your slit and he moves it up and down as your hands move to his hair, a sound you’ve never made before escaping your mouth.

It’s a mixture between a moan and a whine and Eddie continues as he likes what he’s hearing. He’s not being precise, the whole thing sloppy as he wants to taste every inch of your cunt, wanting every part of it underneath his tongue.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s done this as he’s forgotten just how much he enjoys doing it. With you, it’s different. He’s never done anything like this with a virgin, and goddamn is he going to make it memorable for the both of you.

“E-Eddie, oh my god,” you moan loudly, giving Eddie’s hair a yank as you do. This is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before and now you’re addicted, wondering just how long you can last.

He pushes his tongue inside you and you tense, the sensation is so foreign, but you like it, love it even as he pushes his tongue inside and out of you swirling it around.

His tongue hits just the right spot and you’re moaning again, this time, your back arching as you do, grabbing onto his hair for dear life.

Your thighs press against the sides of his head as you reach your orgasm, the prettiest moans Eddie’s ever heard falling from your lips. Just when you think it’s over, Eddie pushes your legs back open, going in for seconds, wanting another taste of you as his tongue moves faster, trying to get you to that high again.

He removes his tongue and their replaced with his fingers, pumping them a little slower as his mouth goes for your clit, his tongue doing most of the work as he licks and sucks, taking his time with it.

“Eddie, fuck,” you whine and he goes in with his teeth, biting down with just enough pressure to get you to make that pretty sound again. “Yeah, just like that,” you tell him and he does it again, harder this time as his fingers move just a little faster, just enough to overstimulate you.

Another orgasm courses through you, but Eddie’s not quite finished. He just needs one more taste and he’ll be good. He swirls his tongue around your clit one more them then removes his fingers, leaning up to make eye contact with you as he puts his fingers into his mouth, giving them a suck before removing them with a loud pop.

Once you’ve come down, Eddie leans over you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips then leans back as you whine for more.

“Sorry, did you need something?” He asks, his tone nothing but teasing. “I just gave you your first and second orgasm and now you’re whining for kisses? I really have created a monster.”

“Eddie, please,” you beg with a roll of your eyes.

“Let’s not get greedy now, baby. Or else I might have to punish you.”

“Punish me, how?” You ask, genuinely curious, wanting to know what he’s referring to, wondering if he’ll give an example.

“I’ll show you next time,” he says as he goes to unbutton his own pants and as soon as they’re off, you see the outline of his cock through his underwear. He takes them off slowly and you’re unsure what to make of it. Sure, you had maybe seen one in a movie or two, but never in real life and never this close.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, removing a condom from it and he tosses his wallet behind him, the whole thing completely abandoned for the beautiful woman in front of him.

He removes his underwear and removes the condom from the packet before rolling it on. He then takes no time to spread your legs again, slowly inserting himself, little by little so you can get used to the feeling. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, especially not for your first time.

He watches you wince as he moves inside, understanding that this is something that you’ve never done and he’ll go as slow as he needs to. As long as you’re comfortable, he’s happy.

“Is this okay?” He asks, looking down at you, then where you’re connected, seeing that he’s only put so little of himself inside.

“It’s good,” you nod. “It’s good. You can do a little more.”

He does as you say then begins to pump, the slowest and most gentle he’s ever done, watching your face the whole time to make sure that you’re okay. You’re moaning already so he takes that as a good sign.

He picks up the pace ever so slightly and you’re eating it up, moaning and whining as you grab onto his back, burying your face into his neck because you can’t handle him looking at you so intently anymore.

“You’re doing so good, angel,” he says his thrusts pick up just a little more. “Make some more of those pretty sounds for me, hm?” He asks as his arms moved underneath you, pulling your chest to his. He just wants to hold you while you share this intimate moment.

He’s enjoying it, but a part of him wants to fuck you until you can’t walk the next morning. He knows you can take it all and he wants to try and see how much will fit as he fucks you so hard that the van will shake.

But he can’t. He won’t, because this is your first time and he wants to make it special for you. He didn’t get that for his so it’s even more important that makes this something you remember fondly for the rest of your life.

He picks up the pace just a little more and he can tell you’re almost there, just one more push and-

“I love you,” is what comes out of your mouth and everything freezes. You both pause, unsure what the next move is and now you’re panicking that you’ve done something wrong as he stares down at you, his mouth wide open in shock.

Without a word, he’s pounding into you with so much force that you feel your brain turn to mush. You’re goo in his arms and all you can do is clench around him, wondering where this Eddie has been the entire night.

You’d never tell him, but this was what you had been wanting from the very beginning. It was sweet that he was trying to be accommodating, but you know Eddie well enough that he’s never been the kind of guy to “make love”. The kind that’s sweet and gentle, filled with murmurs of sweet nothings and soft touches.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you say again and Eddie’s going even harder now, making your back arch.

Without a warning, Eddie’s hand wraps around your neck squeezing tightly and you can slowly feel yourself being unable to breathe. He’s unsure at first if you like it, but feeling your cunt clench around his cock, he’s sure.

He holds you there, wishing so badly he had a camera to capture this moment, something just for him to look at when he needed a little encouragement.

Just when he thinks you’re going to pass out, he lets up, his hand favoring your thigh as he knows he can squeeze it as much as he wants and he not so secretly, desperately wants to leaves marks all over your body. And he intends to.

His fingers dig into your thigh as he sees you reaching another high, spreading your legs even wider so he can get all of himself in for one last thrust. He watches you as the last few inches are in, your bodies now fully connected, and now he just wants to see how long you can hold out as you’re riding your orgasm.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you moan as your nails scratch down his back, already feeling fucked out, but you can’t give up now, not when it’s gotten so good.

You’re almost drunk when Eddie pulls out and lets you come down from your orgasm as his lips press to your collarbone, nothing but gentle kisses all along it, light nibbles before he’s leaving straight up hickeys wherever he can, wanting to mark up your body so you know exactly who it belongs to. Even though he’s pretty sure you already know.

Once he’s done, he lies back on the floor of the van, pulling you with him as he covers the two of you up with a random blanket he had lying back there.

his hands run through your hair as he hums a song you’re not familiar with, the only thing on your mind now is that you told him that you loved him, during sex. You feel so embarrassed that you don’t think you can look him in the eye again. Especially not after he didn’t say it back.

“You-“ you try to say, but cut yourself off. “You never responded.”

“To what?” He asks, his voice soft as he tries his best to look down at you, his hand still combing through your hair.

“To me telling you that you love me.” You sit up, now looking at him, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Oh god, you don’t love me do you? Just say it, I can handle it.” But as you’re speaking, you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to see how he’s looking at you.

“Hey,” he says softly, as if he’s speaking to a spooked animal. “Hey,” this time a little more rough as he pulls your hand away from your face. “I love you,” he says, looking you dead in the eyes as he presses a kiss to your wrist. “I love you,” he repeats, going for your other wrist.

He then takes your face in his hands and presses his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, pouring every single bit of love for you he has into it.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips before pulling you to his chest, holding you there so you can hear his heart, the thing that only beats for you.

The sun is already up when you get back to your house, both you and Eddie gliggle amongst yourselves as you enter the front door. Eddie presses a kiss to your kiss bitten lips, getting a little handsy as they slide up your shirt. Just as he goes to unhook your bra once again, a lamp flicks on and the two of you jump away from each other, Eddie accidentally biting your bottom lip in the process. Eddie's cheeks go pink and you press your fingers to your bottom lip as you turn to see your mother sitting in her favorite chair, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

She's dressed in her robe, her legs crossed with a book in her lap. It's not uncommon for her to be up early in the morning, but something is off about this time. It's almost as if she was waiting up for you. And the way she crosses her arms over her chest, it's obvious that she was. You don't know why you're embarrassed now at the state of both of you and Eddie. Your clothes are all rumpled and Eddie's hair is an absolute mess, lipstick smeared across his neck, accompanied by a very prominent hickey.

"What were you two doing out all night?" She asks and her tone is nothing but teasing. The three of you know exactly where you were and what you were up to and it almost seems like she's trying to embarrass you in front of Eddie.

"We were out." You're being vague because this isn't exactly something you want to talk to your mother about, especially not in front of your boyfriend who already looks embarrassed even though he'd never admit that he was. You just wish she'd drop it and let you go upstairs.

"You don't have to hide what the two of you were up to. You're adults now and you shouldn't feel like you need to sneak around me. I would have just been nice to know where you were." You're fully expecting a lecture about letting her know when you leave the house, but she suprises you when she says, "Now go get into your pajamas before the others come down," she nods towards the direction of the stairs. “We're doing presents soon and our special guest will be here any minute."

You and Eddie make a beeline for the stairs and head to your shared room. Everything is silent between you as Eddie closes the door, the two of you finally alone again. You're both getting into your matching pajamas that your mother had bought for everyone and you can't help but smile at him as he's completely oblivious to you staring at him.

You never thought you'd be here with him like this. You fully expected to spend the rest of your life dreading any and all holidays you had to spend with the Munsons' because then you'd have to see Eddie's husband or wife and be nothing but jealous the whole time. You honestly never thought that your feelings for him would be reciprocated. But here you are now, more in love than ever and the two of you were very much looking forward to the future.

You head twards the door but Eddie stops you, resting his hand on your shoulder as he gently turns you around to face him. You look up into those honey brown eyes and they're nothing but soft as he hands you a black velvet box with his free hand.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he says as he squeezes your shoulder and you sit on the bed to open the box.

He's smiling now, so excited for you to see what's inside. He's honestly glad you're not looking at him because he’s grinning like an idiot as he watches you open the box, a gasp escaping your mouth as you do so. You remove the necklace from the box, your initals sitting pretty together on the chain as you hold it up to the light.

"Eddie," you say. "It's beautiful. I love it. Help me put it on?" You hand it to him and move your hair out of the way. Eddie lowers the chain onto your neck and attatches the end to the clasp before pressing a kiss to your neck. You let your hair down then turn to Eddie to show him what it looks like on.

"What do you think?" You ask and just by looking at him, that soft, loving look in his eyes, you already know what he's going to know what he's going to say.

"You look beautiful, baby," he gestures for you to come closer. You lean in and your lips find each other, a brief kiss before you pull away, reaching into your bag for your gift for Eddie. The two of you seem to have thought alike because you're handing him a velvet ring box.

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as he opens up the box, that stupid smirk on his lips as he takes the ring out of the box. It looks like a wedding band and it has the date of his concert where you had ran into him again engraved on the inside. His silence is making you nervous and now you're beginning to second guess yourself.

Eddie's not silent because he doesn't like your gift, he's silent because this is easily the best gift he's ever recieved. All of his past relationships have been nothing but shit and he thinks you're it for him. It warms his heart knowing that you feel the same.

"Is this a promise ring?" He asks as he puts the ring on the correct finger. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. You could propose to him right now and he'd say yes. That's how far gone he is for you. He loves you with everything that he is and wants to do exactly that until he takes his last breath.

"Yes," you nod. "I love you, Eddie, and I know we're not ready to take that step yet, so this is just a placeholder. So all of those women you meet on tour know that you're mine."

"You're always jealous, aren't you?" He laughs. "I'm yours and will continue to be yours as long as you'll have me."

With that, Eddie kisses you one more time then leads you down the stairs where everyone else is already gathered with the added company of Wayne who just so happened to be the special guest your mother had invited. His eyes lock on yours and he stands from the couch where he was sitting next with Gareth and Cindy. He pulls you into a tight hug, giving your back a few pats before pulling away to ruffle Eddie's hair.

Wayne has been not so secretly rooting for the two ever since the two of you crossed paths again. You are nothing but a great addition to their family and Wayne is always quick to tell you so, always thanking you for taking care of his boy. Seeing the way his nephew's face lights up when he talks to or about you, he can't help but feel his heart swell as that's what he's always wanted for him.

Ever since Gareth and Eddie became friends, Eddie was always welcome into the Emerson household and that invitaion was extended to Wayne as well. You fondly remember having dinner with the two of them as guests, everyone joking and laughing at the dining room table. You'd look at the two of them as they sat side by side, deciding that it was no wonder how Eddie was such a sweet guy when you looked at who raised him.

"Alright," your mother claps her hands together to get everyone's attention. "Now that we're all here, why don't we-" her words were cut off by Cindy letting out a groan and as soon as she stood up from the couch, all you see was her leaving a trail of water behind her as Gareth rushes her to the door.

You all hurry out the door to your separate cars to head to the hospital where your niece is about to be born. Thinking about your brother being a dad now fills you with joy, epsspecially with how much he's grown up over the years. There's still a bit of the Gareth you grew up with in there, but for the most part, he behaves differently than he previously had.

You've all grown up, you, Eddie, and Gareth, and you did it together. Well, more like Eddie and Gareth grew up together while you tried to insert yourself into their little club because of your giant crush on Eddie. But now you're apart of it, you, Eddie, Gareth, Cindy, and now the little one who was about to be born.

Thinking about your niece got you thinking about what it would be like to have a baby with Eddie. Maybe one day that dream will be a reality, but until then, you’re going to take this relationship one step at a time. You want to enjoy every second with him.

Tag list!

@cagethemunson

@spikeybatt

@cherrycolas-things

@r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e

@ali-r3n

@thepurplelovewitch

#stranger things #x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #christmas special #holiday special #part 2 #brother’s best friend #rockstar! eddie munson #rockstar! eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie munson

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reverie-starlight · 5 months ago

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{need you now- hawks}

y’all remember need you now by lady antebellum?

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. angst-ish? kinda fluffy. I’ll be doing a part two of this from keigo’s perspective eventually.

you can’t sleep.

this has been happening more and more lately, and you wonder how much more you can take without starting to hallucinate.

he’s back home from a mission now, which you only found out because of one of his fan accounts. well- “home”. he’s been staying in the luxurious house the commission kept aside for him. nothing homely about it according to keigo, but it’s not like he has much of a choice.

not after you got caught up in the argument and told him you wanted nothing to do with him.

you had shrugged it off when you saw the post, not knowing if it’s been too long to try and reconcile, but now you’re going down memory lane, holding back tears as you flip through the photo album he made you.

you fight yourself to stay off your phone, but you get to a photo of him kissing your cheek and you can’t stop yourself any longer. the loneliness you’ve been feeling all this time finally wins out.

the clock reads 1:15 AM.

is he even awake right now?

it’s been a month… and he’s always so busy, do you even cross his mind anymore? he always seems to be on yours.

you call anyway, against your better judgement and your heart lurches into your throat when he actually answers.

after two rings, at that.

“hello?” his voice both soothes you and chills you to your bones at the same time.

“hi keigo,” you whisper.

“hi, ba-“ you think he’s about to call you baby out of habit and you wish he hadn’t stopped himself. “did you need something?”

he sounds… somber. solemn. sad.

not at all like the keigo you love.

guilt pools in your stomach at the mere idea of you hurting him this badly.

“I…” you bite your lip. “I miss you.”

you hear his breath hitch. “really?”

you wish you could see his expression and figure out what he’s feeling. he’s always been so good at keeping his voice free of emotion.

granted, he always tried to turn that skill off around you, so you gather that he must be feeling guarded.

you keep going. “I’m so sorry for that night, keigo. I said things that I didn’t mean and I regret it so much… I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

he’s quiet on the line for a few beats and then and exhaled “I’m sorry too, baby. we both said some pretty awful things, didn’t we?”

you laugh, but it sounds a bit more like a sob to you. “yeah,” your voice breaks. “keigo, I… I need you here with me. can you please come over so we can talk about this?”

he clears his throat, likely working overtime to continue to keep the growing emotion out of his voice, but it sounds thick when it breaks anyway. “y-eah. yeah, I can come over. I need you too. I’ll be there soon, okay? unlock the window for me, sweetheart.”

he hangs up and you quickly move to do as he asked.

five minutes later, he’s on your balcony, sliding the glass and slipping into your room.

he immediately wraps you in his arms and your body, once cold and empty, fills with a warmth only he could provide.

he’s whispering words into your scalp. “I love you, y’know that? I love you too much to ever want to break up.”

you nod against his chest, letting the tears flow freely. “I love you too. I’m sorry,” these words are repeated between the two of you- they shoot out of your mouth and hit his chest, sinking into his skin and bubbling up his throat only for them to hit your scalp and absorb into your brain, then fall out of your mouth again like a well oiled machine working overtime.

but there’s nothing habitual about these phrases- as is the case for any time you say them, they’re promises.

promises that will never be broken again.

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

I’ve had this idea for a while and I finally wrote it :3

AND I’m gonna work on this from his POV, which I’m almost more excited abt than this one 👀

@emmyrosee sum angst (ish)

#hawks x reader #hawks x reader fluff #hawks x reader angst #keigo takami x reader #bnha hawks x reader #bnha angst #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #hawks fluff #mha x reader #bnha fluff

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dovesdreaming · 4 months ago

Text

Cluelessly yours

This picture is making me so hungry

Summary: You’re crushing on Deadpool but he’s hopelessly oblivious to all your hints. You just have to come out and openly say it.

Request

Masterlist

You didn’t know how it had happened, but somewhere between the late-night takeout runs and the endless banter, you’d developed a crush on Wade Wilson. Sure, he wasn’t the textbook definition of “Prince Charming” what with the mercenary lifestyle, endless stream of sarcasm, and tendency to get a little too enthusiastic about explosions but there was something about him. Maybe it was his humor, his weirdly thoughtful moments, or the way he’d show up at your place with your favorite snacks after a rough day. Whatever it was, you were hopelessly crushing on him.

There was just one problem: Wade was completely oblivious. You sat on the couch in your apartment, flipping through a magazine but not really reading it, waiting for Wade to show up like he said he would. He had promised to bring pizza and hang out after his "super-secret, definitely-not-a-date-with-death" mission today, and as usual, you found yourself thinking about how to finally tell him how you felt. But every time you tried to be a little flirty, a little more obvious, he’d just… miss it. Or worse, take it as a joke and deflect with some ridiculous comment.

The sound of the front door slamming open yanked you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Wade, in full Deadpool gear, standing in the doorway holding a pizza box over his head like a trophy. “Guess who’s back from a successful slaughter fest?” he announced. “That’s right, it’s me. And I brought pizza! I figured you’d want to carbo-load after a long day of being awesome”. You smiled, grateful that he was always so... thoughtful, in his own Wade-ish way. “Thanks, Wade. You’re the best”. He tossed the pizza box onto the coffee table and plopped down on the couch beside you, stretching his legs out with a satisfied sigh. "Well, I know that. But keep saying it, I never get tired of hearing it”. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small grin that spread across your face. Wade had that effect on you, no matter how chaotic your day was, he always managed to make you laugh. And even though he had no idea you liked him, he was always so nice to you. Thoughtful, in his own ridiculous way.

Wade nudged you playfully with his elbow. “Soooo, whatcha been up to, gorgeous? Miss me while I was off doing my superhero-slash-homicidal thing?” Your heart skipped a beat at the casual compliment. You glanced at him, trying to play it cool, though you felt heat rising in your cheeks. “Maybe I did” you teased. “Who else is going to bring me pizza and call me ‘gorgeous’?” Wade laughed, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Well, good thing I’ve got you covered on both fronts! Pizza and compliments? I’m your guy”. He took a big bite, speaking around a mouthful of food. “Seriously, though, you could do way better than a burnt chimichanga like me”. You blinked, surprised by the casual self-deprecation in his voice. “I don’t think so” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Wade, predictably, didn’t catch the weight behind your words. “Pfft, you’re just being nice” he said, leaning back and tossing his feet up onto the coffee table. “But that’s why you’re awesome. Always so nice to ol’ Wade”. You felt a twinge of frustration. He really was clueless. How could he not see it? How could he not realize that you wanted to be nice to him, to be around him, because you liked him? You sighed, setting your magazine aside. Maybe it was time to push the envelope just a little more. If he didn’t get it after this, then maybe he really was a lost cause. “So, Wade” you began, turning slightly to face him. “Do you ever… I don’t know, think about dating?” Wade raised an eyebrow behind his mask, looking genuinely confused. “Dating? Me? Babe, look at this face”. He gestured to his mask, clearly referring to the scars beneath. “I’m not exactly prime boyfriend material. Most people would run screaming in the opposite direction”. You frowned, your heart clenching at his words. “That’s not true” you said firmly. “You’re funny, caring… you’re way more than just your appearance”.

Wade blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden seriousness. “Uh… thanks?” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to take the compliment. You hesitated, your heart pounding. This was your moment either he got it, or he didn’t.“What if I told you…” You took a breath, feeling the words catch in your throat. “That someone… really liked you? That someone… I thought you’d be great boyfriend material?” Wade froze, pizza slice halfway to his mouth, staring at you with wide eyes. There was a long, awkward pause before he finally responded, voice hesitant. “Wait… are you saying… you like me?” You bit your lip, nodding. “Yeah, Wade. I do”. He sat there, still holding the pizza slice, completely silent for what felt like an eternity. Your heart sank a little, thinking you’d misread everything, that maybe he wasn’t interested in you that way at all.

Then, finally, Wade snapped out of it. “Wait. Hold the chimichangas. You, you- gorgeous, smart, amazing you- like me? Like, in the 'I wanna kiss your weird, scarred face' kinda way?” You felt your cheeks flush, but you nodded again, trying to keep from laughing at the way he phrased it. “Yes, Wade. I like you”. Wade blinked, then dropped the pizza slice back into the box, turning to face you fully. “Holy crap. You’re serious”“Completely”. He stared at you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable under the mask. Then, without warning, he let out a loud, exaggerated gasp and clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh my god! How did I not see this?!” You couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top reaction, the tension in the room instantly melting. “Because you’re oblivious, Wade. I’ve been flirting with you for weeks”.

“Weeks?!” Wade slapped his forehead. “And I missed it all? Wow, I’m worse than I thought. My obliviousness is like a superpower all on its own. Should I put that on my résumé?” You laughed again, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Wade might’ve been oblivious, but at least now he knew. And from the look on his face- or at least, what you could see of it- it wasn’t a bad thing. “So…” Wade leaned forward slightly, his usual cocky grin creeping back. “Does this mean I can ask you on a date? Or do I need to wait for more obvious hints next time?” You smirked. “Wade, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for weeks. You don’t need any more hints”.

His grin widened beneath the mask, and he reached out, grabbing your hand in his gloved one. “Well then, in that case, how about we make this pizza party an official date? You, me, Dogpool- candlelight, bad rom-coms, and excessive snuggling?” You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “That sounds perfect”. Wade squeezed your hand, his voice dropping to a soft, genuine tone. “Hey, thanks for liking me. Scars and all. You’re… you’re pretty damn great, you know that?” You leaned in, your smile warm as you looked at him. “You’re pretty great too, Wade”.

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eldrith · 4 months ago

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ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴅᴇɴ ; ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ.

ᴄʜɪᴠᴀʟʀʏ ғᴇʟʟ ᴏɴ ʜɪs sᴡᴏʀᴅ ;

words: 8.4k synopsis: jacaerys falls for a woman in aegon's garden. notes: happy halfway! we're only a few weeks from halloween & im getting excited that this story is at its midway point. i hope those who read this enjoy it. it's as always for my muses @useralba and @dipperscavern ... my co authors frong!! chapter warnings: active and willing denial on jace's part tbh. themes of corruption, spooky visions, smut; masturbation, dry humping, heavy petting, finger sucking, hint (?) of choking [v brief], sort-of under the influence activities so - dubious morals in this one [youll see]. eating as sexual imagery, sin/shameful thoughts, religious themes & symbolism, temperature play-ish?, blood & injury depictions, brief mentions of…consuming blood…lightttt manipulation[:D], angst, grief, discussion of death. & some fluff. this is so unedited series masterlist. main masterlist.

THE CHAMBERS OF MAESTER GERARDYS ARE TINGED WITH DRIED HERBS AND DAMP PARCHMENT.

It is a smell which rather permeates the air through the corridors of the castle on the more inclementing days – even when he was younger, Jacaerys found himself passing by the smell of feverfew and steamed stinging nettle on his way to lessons in the bowels of the stone drum.

Thick tears of rain slide down a weathered pane. Jacaerys reclines in a small chair; In front of him, a poultice is mixed by steady hands.

His head pulses with a familiar ache; the one which has plagued him for days, rendered him rather restless and jumpy on the best of days, irascible and brusque on the others. There is a slow roll of thunder outside; it rattles the weakened pane beside him – faintly, he can nearly hear the call of some childish laughter warbled in the storm outside.

There are no children left on the island now that his brothers are gone with Rhaena; with them, it seems, has gone the sun. The days have been plunged into dreary rolls of high clouds and low sheets barreling down with coughs of spitting sleet; The nights remain the only time the air is relatively clear of that wetting dark, and yet still clouds slink under silvery slivers of waxing moon.

Agitated, Jace watches Maester Gerardys pour some oiled ointment, warming it between his palms; straightening his spine to a more respectable position, Jacaerys tilts his jaw for the man to begin to massage the ointment into his temples.

A sigh of relief. “It’s only getting worse,” He murmurs, eyes fluttering shut at the sharp scent of peppermint. “-The head aches, the knots in my stomach.”

Maester gerardys hums as he pulls away, returning to the poultice as he glances attentively at the prince – though he says nothing, and Jacaerys is prompted to fill the silence once more.

“I suppose getting air has helped… Aegon’s Garden is not nearly as taxing to the senses as flying on dragonback these days.” He observes absently, watching another onslaught of rain slam against the window, “… and your oils, of course - though, they’re quite strong in the bath. I find the blooms to be rather pleasant now. I don’t know if you recall, Maester, but I was quite sensitive to plants when I was a babe.”

Below on the grounds, a flicker of blue through hedges of green; Jacaerys jumps only slightly, blinking – and the figure is gone. He must be going mad.

Though in a moment of odd silence, the grind of the mortar has stopped.

Gerardys’ eyes flick up to his own, leaking with a flicker of wariness. “Yes, the…garden.” He repeats slowly, straightening his back. “My Prince, I’ve… noticed you’ve been spending quite some time there recently.”

Jacaerys, not used to such suspicion from the man, bristles immediately. Some desire, perhaps, to protect the sanctity of the garden - to protect you.

“And?” He wonders stiffly.

Maester Gerardys sets the mortar to the table, voice cautious. “It is not my place to pry, but… we must be wary not to… become distracted in such times. The dragonseeds arrive late on the morrow, and the efforts of war demand the entire island’s attention.”

Offense bristles through Jacaerys’ chest as he levels a sharp gaze at the man before him. Without hesitation, he rises from his previous seat, patience more than frayed. “Do you think me not focused?”

At the following silence, his voice tightens. “I am not a boy, Gerardys. I know what is at stake - better even than you. And it will do you well to remember who it will be to lead the charge when the time comes.”

Gerardys does not flinch at the sharpness of Jacaerys’ tone, but nods briefly. “Of course, my Prince. My apologies.” Jacaerys moves to make his exit, though Maester Gerardys’ voice stops him once more., “Though… It is my duty to keep you in good health. You’ve mentioned before a girl, in the garden - pardon me, but there has not-”

“Enough!” Jacaers snaps, pushing off the table. His temper has flared - though tipped over the cliff by his words, it is not Maester Gerardys who aggravates him so; rather, a heavy impending doom has settled upon his stomach at the damning reminder of the dragonseeds which crawl their way from whatever villages or flea’s bottom they come from now to chance a life of riding a dragon. Of some inkling that, in some way, Gerardys’ words are right; and Jacaerys lashes, a cornered hound.

“You forget yourself, Maester.” He exhales sharply through his nose, “You are here to help aid my ailments. That is all you need to do."

Gerardys bows his head, “Of course.”

He is nearly to the threshold when Maester Gerardys’ voice carries - soft and unsettling as an owl’s stare in the pitch of night. “Just remember, my Prince. Sometimes, the things which ease the mind… might mislead the heart.”

Jacaerys stops before the chamber door, hand clenching into a fist at his side; a nerve has been plucked, struck, ripped - some small growing doubt in the back of his own mind, one that festers and yearns to bloom with kindling of another’s words. Worry eases through him, though there is no time for that; more pressing matters loom.

The dragonseeds arrive on the eve, it seems.

He is gone from the chambers without another word, ignoring the fading needle sting of Maester Gerardys’ odd words as they dissolve into the large bow of day.

IT IS OF LITTLE IMPORTANCE WHEN JACAERYS HAS HIS BATH DRUM MOVED.

Though it is a simple request, an innocent one - brought up while breaking fast one morning, watching with concealed fluster as three servants drag his bath drum towards the windowsill. Though it is indeed blameless and simple, he feels rather horrid for it.

It is a twist of disgust that blossoms into some equally thrilling bloom in his chest. A transfixion, to keep gaze upon the expanse of a sea beyond his scope, of all that will one day be all his own to rule. To prove, perhaps in some twisted way, that it is he who will sit on the throne when his mother has finished her long reign; that those mules with silver hair and names of sand or snow do not come to delude themselves into making a claim of their own.

To watch over the baileys below, to see the fishing villages, mere specks in the distant shoreline; to see ships smaller than fleas sail to and from, to see the rustle of wildgrass upon the pathway to the garden below.

To watch Aegon’s Garden.

It is not, he tells himself, in any off-chance that he might catch sight of those silky tresses, of that smooth and wintry skin, of your curling smile. Jacaerys simply enjoys the views of sky, sea, mountain - and if he were to catch a glimpse of your beautiful visage, whispering to the flowers and laughing as if the blooms could whisper back? Perhaps that would simply be a welcomed favor.

The water in his bath steams; oils of rosemary and peppermint mix in a rather sharp smell upon his skin, though the tendrils of steam curl into his head and ease the sharpness of his mind’s ache.

Reclining back, eyes half-lidded, Jacaerys sighs into the heat of the water.

Lithe, tense muscles ache with the tension of the day - though it is morning, he knows he must rouse soon; but in the hour ahead that he has to bathe and break fast, he will allow himself to slip away from life, into the recesses of his mind - to where only you exist.

You.

Jacaerys allows for his fingertips to brush absently along the water’s surface - so similarly to how they’d traced the curve of your neck, tangled into your hair. It’s been far too long since he visited you last - two nights past since he was tugged through the hedges once more, hiding a grin, ducking under low-hanging vines, gasping into kisses stolen by your wanting lips.

There is no such flame that perhaps has ever burned hotter than the memory of your touch; an icy one, a chilling touch that sends the cold aches of the North to shame; though it burns so hot in his mind’s eye.

You, a world apart from the suffocating smoke of war - an endearing, true girl; the way your smile tugs at the corner of your lips, some glint in your gaze that beckons him closer - deeper.

Eyelashes kiss his cheeks when he shuts his lids, and mercifully he sees it - you, head tilted in the sunlight, shadows of the garden dancing along the stretch of your soft skin, the icy breath of shade a cool respite from the despotic sun.

And that heady, rich scent that clings to your skin - the figs, the juicy skin, the pinking bud of flesh inside, your lips so divine, wrapped around them, tasting, licking, biting-

His breath hitches; without thinking - or perhaps, telling himself instead not to think - his palm slips beneath the water.

Jacaerys’ groan is quiet into the empty chamber; but his calloused palm is softened by the warmth of the water, and his mind is hazy in the visions of you, staring at him, lips wrapped around that fruit.

Its scent, the lingering taste of it upon your lips, so sweet - you, so sweet.

And he did not try a taste then, but gods how he had wanted to; how he still wants to. A taste - of that flesh, dripping with sweet juice and marbled skin of ripe fruit - and of every inch of you, each breathless hitch of a moan, every whisper of his name from your lips. Pleasure curls down the base of his spine as he allows his fist to move; broad strokes, as languid as the slithering shift of your skirts around corners, as sharp as your gasped giggle when he makes you laugh.

And it’s you; he nearly believes it is you, wrapped around his cock so snug - pleasure lapping at core, water kissing his chest as he stirs in the bath, stuttering breaths that leak a few spare whimpers into the quiet morning air.

There is a breeze through the open window that sends Jacaerys’ bare chest to shiver against the steam of hot bath; A familiar chill, wrapping and curling around him like the winds of winter - settling at the nape of his neck, but dripping lower to pool at the very base of him, where his fist moves, desperate and seeking.

And though he pretends it does not happen, he knows his fist curls and moves to the rhythm of your sighs in his memory, how you’re always so eager to press into him, to kiss him, to taste him; desperate and hungry.

Hunger – that glint, dangerous and unknown in your eyes; a flicker of a grin too wide-pulled, the sliding of a gaze that feels ancient. It’s not proper, he knows; but the pleasure mounts anyways – because of it, perhaps – and that sickly smile sends himself further to the edge, grip shaking as his hips buck against nothing.

Water splashes from the basin. A bite on the plush of his lip as he suppresses a shuddering moan; his abdomen has tensed in such curling pleasure - an ice against the fire in his veins, intoxicating, arresting.

The pressure always builds - not just this pleasurable kind, though his body insists to his mind he should be focusing on such things - and in the last few desperate days that he’s spent far from you, you who truly understands him - it is in these times when he seeks such salacious relief.

It is your name whispered from his lips, breathless - too many times to admit in the past weeks of knowing your company. It is some distraction from the clawing talons of fate; when his palms are warm against his cock though he finds himself wishing to feel your own - that chilling touch which lures him so.

His desperate, soiled lips - groaning your name, falling from his tongue as the whisper of a phantom, some half-formed prayer to gods long-forgotten, squeezed with the very last of air which lived in his lungs. Licking at his skin, curling into his blood like the shade under which you’d kissed him.

The phantom feeling grasps at him, pressing against the thrash of his heartbeat in his chest, bringing the sting of overwhelm to his lashline, coaxing gasps through his lips and tickling a flush to his cheeks.

He can almost feel you when that same shivering peak leaves him panting, gasping as his ecstasy rolls through his entire body, his head lolling back against the tub basin as he whines your name into the empty chamber.

And in those moments, just like now - as his chest heaves and knuckles turn white, as he spends himself - he can think of nothing else.

It is only you.

Though when he steps from the bath and stretches his bare muscles into the bright of day, eyeing the line of constellated freckles which sprinkle over his pectorals and gather in pools upon his shoulders and bridge of nose, he feels the slow recovery of what had slipped so easily from his conscious - pain.

And just as it disappeared, so it appears once more; with a sharp wince, Jacaerys jolts from his haze, gasping at the heavy ache which throbs in the back of his head.

With flushed cheeks, he watches the garden below for any sign of life; It swirls with tantalizing greens, the scent of dahlias and gardenias blowing in even this high into the tower through the open casement. A sigh falls secret and unbidden from his lips as curls are raked back upon his head with a shaky palm.

As always, the pull is there.

The lull, some sweet melody that spins the strings of his heart, warming the blood pulsing in his chest and gathering below his abdomen; which soothes the ache of his mind and whispers his name in the soft breeze.

It is melancholy, in the way life has been without Lucerys. Shadows swirl darker under the attention of morning sun – petals curl beneath the breath of frost, melting back into themselves in the first whispers of day. The blooms smile up at him, and he longs for the embrace of something he can never have.

The garden breathes below.

Across the bailey, the dragonseeds take up arms - measly children playing at a game they know nothing about; Jacaerys’ jaw clicks when he glimpses the regal posture of his own mother across the way, speaking with Maester Gerardys and Addam of Hull. The pierce of his mind’s ache is sharper - the garden’s breeze sends a breath of loneliness through him.

He shuts the window without a second thought.

IT IS ONLY SO MANY HOURS UNTIL HE FINDS HIMSELF IN THE GARDEN ONCE MORE.

Misery flutters in Jacaerys’ mind with every ragged gasp he takes; a creeping nightmare, rousing him from sweaty sheets - clammy and with half a scream lodged in his throat, he’d stirred.

Visions of white, some restless churning that’d grown from dirt of dreams and sprouted a blossoming nightmare - at the top of that ancient, towering wall of ice, the words falling from Cregan Stark’s lips. A fate worse than death.

The loss of his brother; the face which echoed in so many ways his own. The end of a life - of a lifetime - and he still wakes up from restless slumber every night, gasping dry air, yearning for the days of sparring, of fixing wrinkled folds of rich doublets, of teaching lessons, of laughs concealed painfully at supper.

Though tonight, after being roused from sleep by a scream that did not sound like his own, Jacaerys had stood from his mattress, slamming the empty chalice of water upon his table as he calmed his breaths, watching the hedges swirl and blow in the night’s breeze. He’s grown used to the figments of his sleep-hungry mind – young men running past statues, laughter bubbling far away. But tonight, he saw you in a flash of white dress and a rumble of ancient hunger, some need to be in arms which trust and do not quite question.

And so, he ran.

Still clad in his tunic and sleep-trousers, he stumbled past the iron gates, gripped in a chilling bout of tedious familiarity; how many times must he find himself here, searching for comfort - to be haunted by life, by loss?

Why had he not, instead, sought out his mother? Baela? Lord Corlys is often awake at such ghastly hours these days, staring at the sea from upon his balcony…

It is admittedly not the first time he has sought you out in such turmoil; indeed, in the weeks of knowing you, scarcely has past two days where he has not ventured into the gardens; where he has not sought your eerie quiet, your soft words, your gentle palms upon his glistening cheeks.

There is in you perhaps that innocence so lost in people like him - people tainted by the burden of duty; and in your smiles, your whispers, your laughs, your tears - he has come to know you and to love you separately, to be transfixed by you and to crave you.

He supposes it is indeed some rebellion of his own - any breath of you is swept behind by those he has known his whole life; his mother, with no bat of her eye over your name in passing, though if she had scarcely an idea of what he did with you when there was nothing but the swirling trees and falling petals… lips on soft lips, hands on plush curves...

And Jacaerys knows, quite deep in his mind, why he could not speak with them. So often he finds words falling on deafened ears; those who do not understand, or who simply do not wish to. Unlike you – wise beyond your years.

In the pitch dark of night, the statues grow warped - blackened by the hatred of weather and neglect of island; it is darker than he’s ever seen the Garden, with a nearly full moon concealed by thick clouds of dread.

Blindly he stumbles into a statue - grasping once more unto the familiar young maiden’s thigh for balance; though the serpent which encircles her is coiled higher over her hips than he recalls.

Fingertips trace over the scales of the snake, and with a distinct desire in his throat, he presses his forehead to the cool stone of the stone woman’s dress skirts; a momentary comfort upon the stone lap.

It is only moments before his breathing calms; lips, pressing to the stone he rests upon - and that visage that watches down at him - stone and lifeless in the dark, eternally you.

IT TAKES HIM NO TIME TO FIND YOU DEEPER IN THE GARDEN.

It is odd, perhaps, that his feet find their way to you each time he seeks you out, as though they have a memory of their own - though he still feels lost in the ever distending garden itself.

Under the olive tree, as you lurk in the shadows, some ancient beastly predator awaits the hare; but you are no foe.

He stands numbly, the loneliness that grips his chest and fosters growing insecurities and fears within his mind dissolving under your beaming smile.

You’re against him in only a moment, pulling him by the wrists into your embrace; he feels odd, as though he floats when you tug him nearer.

“Jacaerys,” You whisper, eyes wide - startled, perhaps, at his visit in such an unseemly hour; though you, too, are here in the garden. It is beyond him to wonder why you so choose to spend your nights here, when he lies so sleeplessly in his own chambers each night wishing for the embrace of the garden.

The knot in his chest unfurls just under your touch - and you seize him in a shy kiss, leaning on tip-toes to seek his warmth.

He gasps into it, overwhelmed by the cold of your lips against his own; but he melts into the intoxicating simplicity of being wanted - and wanted by you, gods - and kisses you back deeply. Soft tresses tickle his forearm as he slides his arms around your back, tugging you into him - as if he could perhaps drown himself in you; as if he could forget the weight of the night, of the troubles that always come when morning breaks.

His hands find your waist as you pull away, though not too far - he keeps you close, to see the breath that falls from your lips and raises the goosepimples upon his neck, each flutter of every single eyelash.

“You’ve returned,” And you speak the words breathlessly each time he visits, without fail; as if you truly fear that each time he leaves, it will be the last time.

But your smile falls at the state of him, leaning closer to tuck your palm under his jaw.

“What troubles you, my love?” You wonder softly, a cold breeze of your palm brushing away his curled tresses - and he tries not to keen into the touch, swallowing thickly at the concern, at the empathy that drips from your words. He does not recall when you began to levy him with such sweet words – gone is my prince, taken up with far more intimate, kind titles; And, in return, when he whispers such devoted titles into your ear, into the breath of the garden – you bloom, a small smile growing evergreen upon your visage.

Your name is whispered from his lips with a shake of his head, the emotions crawling back to the forefront of his mind, dragging his weary bones down towards the earth.

And, devoted as always, you go with him; sinking into the thick soil, running your fingers through his hair as he breathes heavily, using his best effort to resist the tears which brim in his vision. He feels a fool; though you would not ever hold him in such contempt.

His voice is tight. “I wished to see you,” He admits, “I… saw you, from my chambers.”

Your lips curl into a soft grin; your eyes are dark - knowing - in the concealed moonlight, and it stirs that same odd crazed feeling within his bones. And no matter how tight his grasp on your arm becomes, you do not wince; you instead pull him with a soft caress and practiced words, curled under the statue of the dying lovers.

It is there he lies, head cushioned on the soft chill of your lap, blinking back syrupy eyelids as he spills his mind to you.

His mother, the dragonseeds; heirs, bastards, the colour of the very locks your fingers card through so gently.

His words whisper, curling up through your own hair and floating into the limbs of the tree behind you; your eyes are large as he confesses to you each and every thing that has infected him, has let fester within his mind for so long that now it rots and oozes from his lips with a bitter hatred.

Your words whisper in return, dripping from honeyed lips and soothing the sore and bruised bones that lie so weary beneath skin so thick.

It is in no effort to convince him of one thing nor another; Your words are for him, and that is it - your words are simple, kind, understanding. A balm over festering wounds of family, of fate.

“Jace?” You ask into the quiet of the night - and the tug on his heartstring of your delicate use of his sobriquet fosters a gentle, dreamy smile to his lips. He hums into the quiet garden, his fingers slipping through the tresses of your free hair, billowing around his head like a thick curtain; he leans up and steals a soft kiss from your parted lips, laughing gently at the blush that creeps over your countenance.

Not a breath later, a pressure slides soft against Jacaerys’ face and he jumps slightly. Though you laugh at his misfortune, you straighten; the curtain is pulled, and Jace blinks in the moonlight to find the creature that’d slinked its way into your privacy.

Jacaerys’ gut twists – the cat.

A gasp of excitement from you. “Shadow, darling.” You purr affectionately - Jacaerys, wary and uneased, sits himself upright from his pillow in your lap, spine uncurling into regal posture once more.

It bunts its small head against your palm and Jacaerys is claimed by a faint memory – Baela feeding Sȳndor a foraged fish; You sigh in disappointment, shaking your head down at the cat. “I have none with me this evening, I’m afraid.”

The cat hisses; he feels his spine straighten even more, hair on end.

“Jacaerys,” You hum; your hand is outstretched, and with a disoriented blink, he wonders when you’d risen to stand. He rises, hand in yours as you smile against the pitch-black of night. “I’ve something I would like to show you.”

The deeper into the garden you lead Jacaerys, the longer the silvery shadows of statues cast; wrath, visages weathered and greened by spoiled coils of vines - they leap at him when he passes. Earth and dying leaves hang in the air; but in the rotting turns and bends in the far end of the garden, where he’s never been, they give way to something sweeter, richer.

It’s a slow crawl - in a breeze, in a short laugh from you, in the sway of your loose tresses when you turn a corner too quickly for the prince to keep up. A cat-and-mouse game.

Though it grows - a smell so intoxicating that when you finally arrive, Jacaerys is stopped dead in his tracks.

Bewilderment, some serious dip in his gut in alarm at the monstrous silhouette that just barely looms in the shadows of night. His neck has to crane to see them: Figs – plump, ripe, hanging heavy and dripping from gnarled branches easily the size of himself.

It is a tree twice the size of the olive tree - a feat of its own - and possibly more; the fruits drip with nectar that shimmers as if caught in the light that does not find the rest of the Garden.

Massive.

The tree backs up and towers over the stone wall at the end of the garden, fog swirling in a small blanket that conceals the thick, rising roots emerging from the earth.

And at first, Jacaerys believes the heat rising within him to be hunger; his stomach growls quietly, churning at the alluring scent of fruit - but with a glance at you, hand still in his - a different hunger claws at him.

The heat spreads through his veins.

It tightens his chest, mouth watering at the thought of a bite of that sweet fruit, its gentle juices as they slide over trembling, pure skin; his hunger grows, some famished beast clawing at his chest. And a taste of you - that intoxicating you, ever-present and sweet in his mind.

Gods, this is ill done. He does not ask before tugging you gently with him towards the tree, the overwhelming scent pulling him deeper under its yawning canopy.

His hand only slips from yours when he reaches the base of the tree; staring up at the sprawling web of branches above, he lets out an incredulous laugh that is deafened immediately in the sedated air around you.

“It’s enormous,” Fingers brush against bark, ancient and rough, “Why haven't I seen it before? It feels…” He trails off, searching for the words; but he’s gone rather hot in sudden desire. You’re behind him - he feels your freezing breath trickle down his nape, your hand ghosting over his spine; though the shiver that follows is not just from your lips. “...Hidden.” He finishes absently.

Jacaerys turns into your touch, but you are not behind him - you remain a few paces away, bending to feed the cat a fig you’ve plucked from a lower branch.

The presence he’d felt behind him is gone; With a blink, unease churns in his gut.

His question lingers - but too does the heat. That overwhelming scent, as the cat leaps to rip voraciously into the flesh of the fruit. He watches, torn between horror and captivation as the little beast tears at it, releasing some faint growl that sounds nearly like a purr.

His own fingers reach up shakily to pluck a fruit laced in shadows – and in the moonlight, the flesh is nearly purple.

“Perhaps the garden hides what it wishes to keep.”

He startles only slightly – you’re in his ear now, voice laced in that way that stirs heat within him. His fingers clutch the fruit desperately, breathing heavy to regain whatever strength he has lost in the battle against desire. Your whisper sends curling arousal over the ridges of his spine, “The soil is rich here, you know. Fertile, in ways men think it shouldn’t be. The Dragonmont’s deposits do little to stop such delicious fruit from blossoming – it is foolish to think this land cursed.”

Cursed, his mind whispers – and his brows furrow, your words stirring unease in the back of his mind; It is so difficult to think clearly at such a late hour, with the hunger stirring so deep, with the fruit and your hand so soft in his own.

Cursed – but you eat them; and as he gazes into your glinting eyes in the dark, your bare toes dug into the very soil upon which you stand – hunger gnaws at him, blinding his sight from whatever shadows curl in the dark. He doesn’t mind, he decides.

Cursed, or blessed – it is often quite hard to tell the difference.

And his hunger crescendos; with a small press of your lips to the sensitive patch of his neck, the grazing of teeth sharper than the blade forgotten in his chambers, his hand twitches; his thumb splits the seam of the fruit open.

At the movement, the pad of his finger slides into the flesh, its juices dripping into his palm; you let out a small whimper at this, your hands curling in a grasp around his arms – the noise sends heat through him, coiling at the base of him.

Your eyes are alight with hunger – eyes wide, some shrouded smile growing upon hungry lips as he stares down between you and the fruit.

He yearns for something; all his life, for something. To feel alive, a voice whispers - the Garden is alive, you are alive. You are.

His hand drops the fruit.

For just a moment, your face flickers – but he brings his thumb to hover over your cheek, the air thick with the smell of its juices. He is hungry; insatiable. Your breath stutters as you stare up at him, and he down at you, breaths puffing between parted lips, shaking with unspoked craving.

“Gods,” he murmurs; and then, your tongue darts out – his throat tightens, goosepimples roving through him as you gently lick the pulp of the fig from his thumb, leaning further towards him.

He leans; Gods, he can’t help himself – and then his lips are on yours, rapacious, greedy.

You press with cold hands into him, and he stumbles back into the bark of the tree, thicker than himself three times round the trunk; your tongue prods his own, and he can’t help the groan that tears from the back of his throat – the taste, ambrosial.

Some remnants of the fruit linger upon your lips, and he’s unable to quench himself of the desire that spins his head; that sinks him low once more into the soil, that tugs you daringly atop him.

Jacaerys blinks back a bout of dizziness when his eyes adjust – reposed below the fig tree, temptations swirling around his mind as you slide into his lap coyly.

How he got here, he cannot recall; but you’re real and touching him – an icy palm upon the juncture of his neck, your slender thumb slipping to curl over the base of his throat as he keens towards you, plush lips seeking the thrill of your skin against his mouth.

Dress shifts; his tunic rustles, the leaves fall and the fruit lies in the earth, split open. Perhaps it is the hour - or it is the stare you give him; he is overwhelmed with the sense that you know every part of him; every fear, every weakness – and still you lie in his lap, eager and blushing as the day you first met. His mind flashes – in that numb way, as if he is on the precipice of some crucial understanding.

Your own lips sink into his, pressing away any melancholia, replacing it with a boiling hunger - an icy groan from him as you shift in his lap, his stirring arousal quick and heated with your sweet proximity.

Your hips stir upon his own – it lights arousal through him, tensing each muscle in his body as he coaxes you to do it again, again, again; until he is numb but for the sensation of you, willing and hungry and his.

His fingers clench; one palm, grounding himself with a grasp on the junction of your hip - the other, tracing the outline of a nearby root, feeling the thrumming heartbeat which seems to come tandem from both your flesh and its own.

The kiss he pulls you into is careful, hungry, exploring – overwhelming, as your fingers slide into his curls and tug gently; a hiss of desire from him that arches his spine into your cool skin.

He takes your sighs, your curves, the tremble of your hands as you palm at his own pliant body as if it’s a proof to himself – he is a man, he is alive – he, more than a playpiece in his mother’s endless efforts, more than a name which will be written leatherbound parchments of history to come.

He is more than it all; because he is yours.

“Jace–” Your voice is breathless, and it nearly kills him.

In a short whimper, you shift your hips upon his own, driving yourself over the line of his hardened cock – and he hisses, biting hard into the plush of his lower lip.

Near immediately, your tongue soothes over him; and a small noise of pleasure – nearly missed, though your eyes flash as you lean away from his mouth, a smattering of his own metallic blood upon your lip.

Your eyes are blown wide; a chilling sight, reveling in the taste of his ichor – and your hand, cupping his jaw with that frosty command as you hum, eyes taking him apart, putting him back together. Staring through his soul. Gods, you’re divine.

“Is this okay?” You whisper - your lips brush against his in a chilling shiver of pleasure; in which he nods enthusiastically, eyes wide and begging and willing. “Yes, please–”

And he cannot finish, because he is soon letting a soft whimper fall desperately against your own lips; you stir with wandering fingers, undulating against him with a sweet pressure that nearly sends a choked moan past his lips.

Fingers tangle in the strings of your loose hair, tugging you closer; your chest presses to his – a muddled awe when he feels your heartbeat switch and begin beating to the very same gallop as his own.

His breath falls ragged as your lips press a blizzard of sultry kisses across his jaw; your gown’s hem curls and ruffles below him as trembling fingers trace it shyly, staving his insatiable hunger.

Haziness leaks into his mind like the winds creep upon winter; perhaps from the cool, delicate skin so inviting underneath his palm, or perhaps the thick, heady scent of figs in the air. Completely at your mercy, craving everything you’re willing to give him – and as though you know it, there is an odd feeling, some shift under the thick limbs of tree above; it is a jarring realization that you’re smiling against his neck, teeth small needles upon his skin.

His brow furrows - a groan slips from his lips as his fingers gently tug at your hair, coaxing your head up from his wanting skin.

Your eyes, blown wide and hungry as his own; and in a hazy swallow, his voice thick with desire and disbelief breaks the quiet of the garden. “You’re divine,” He admits, shaking his head. You laugh at this; that very sharp thing that always seems too loud for your lungs – his mind blares for a moment, but it disappears with a kiss to his jaw.

“You are, my Prince.” You insist. And in your words strikes him a jolt; Gods, this is ill done. He should have stopped when you led him to the tree – he should have turned back when your eyes lingered too long on his lips, when his hunger grew insatiable and unable to contain – when you slithered into his lap, when he tugged you closer and whispered such flowery words into your sweet ear; when he kissed your lips with blistering fervor and locked his arms so you could not slither away, even if you wished to.

He is a prince, after all—honor bound, held to standards that now seem so absurdly distant; and indeed, as you move atop him, as your hands snake beneath his tunic and brush icicles over his burning bare skin, something snaps inside him.

Your hips, and your sensual smile – torturous things, as you draw a slow rhythm that sends his mind spiraling deeper into the fog of lust; frantically, his hips cant upwards in chase of your own.

Embarrassment is merely a wash of afterthought – because you whimper just as he does, shivering in his grasp at the ecstasy that builds between your frigid skin and his own, furnaced by the ancient blood coursing through his body.

Ice and fire, his mind whispers – and he is struck with some deep-seeded pride, a knowledge that, more than carnally, he was meant to find you, to be with you; And that, perhaps, yours is the heart he will forever keep, as you keep his in your own eternally frigid grasp.

He whimpers your name softly and you drink it up with devotion; a septa to a pointed-star; and with a scrambled grasp in your pleasure, your hand finds the fig, split and discarded in the earth-heavy soil beside him.

It is with lidded eyes and puffing, parted lips that Jacaerys watches you, ravenous and ethereal.

Your hair cascades, a curtain once more – keeping out any prying eyes from the middle of night, keeping in huffs of innocent desire as his fingers tighten their grasp upon you, dragging you once more over the straining length of him.

Your fingers press into the wound of the fig and he is doused in a blaring hot ecstasy.

He bucks at the angelic vision of you, pressing into his heated arousal – as if he might sheathe himself in you now and bring his warmth into your very soul - and you, swirling in a misty breeze of desire, pressing so hungrily against him, bucking your hips with a stuttering pleasure that shoots rapturous satisfaction up his spine.

And then your fingers rise to those very lips he chases.

Your eyes roll back in the moonlight – of which he scarcely notes there is enough to douse the tree and you in a silvery breath – and you moan his name when you taste the juice of the fruit. It is a groan, a low drawl that stirs a beast low in his gut.

The scent is too enticing; abdomen clenching in restraint, his hips buck into yours and you hiss in pleasure, eyes returning to his own, pupils blown wide enough to swallow him. He wishes you would.

And it is nearly too much for Jacaerys to bear; the sight of you, wrapped around him and breath puffing in shallow gasps, the fig’s juice staining your lips and glistening over your fingers as they swirl in the broken flesh once more.

He lets out a shaky whimper, the pleasure mounting – his hands roam over your curves, frantic and trembling with the tension of wanting to hold you so close and wishing to ruin you completely.

In a hazy gasp, he wonders what in the realms he is doing now, out in the open so salaciously; but the thought blanks when he feels your hand, freezing as it curls over his clenched jaw.

His lips part for you easily, and your smile is hauntingly beautiful in silvered moonlight.

Your fingers brush over his lips; in a shivered groan, Jacaerys’ eyes flutter shut and his tongue darts out, unable to resist.

The thick, heady flavor sends heat through him, and he’s nearing that edge, that something - he groans, body arching underneath your epicurean touch as he lets your fingers slide past his lips, closing around them with hunger.

The sensation hits him; heat, coursing through his veins so hot it turns icy, burns under his skin. And he bucks desperately, tugging you closer, a shudder running through him as he sucks the juice from your skin, overwhelmed with need.

His body trembles underneath you; your touch, divine – otherworldly – and you hum, letting out a moan as your body stutters above him. Faintly, he is aware of your own peak rolling through you, of your moans, of the sickening smile that flashes above him – though the taste, the smell, the feeling of you slithering atop him – it’s too much.

Jacaerys groans and your fingers slide from his lips, instead cupping his jaw, coaxing his mouth open for your own lips to find him.

His groan becomes a gasp as he comes undone beneath you.

His head falls back against the bark of the tree, feeling its breaths stutter with your own as you follow him, curled into his chest, stuttering your movements as he grasps you in pleasure. His trousers, spent – yet he notices not, whispering your name weakly as his body pulses in an unknown pleasure. Your lips trail ridges of ice over the sliver of exposed collarbone under his tunic.

The juice of the fruit lingers in his mouth, pulsing oddly through his veins. And in a moment, the world shifts; his vision blurs, and as he blinks, the garden is different – bathed in golden sunlight, blooms wild and in full blood; and laughter, a girl and a boy’s, warbled and happy. His heart strikes; a calming unease, some familiar edge. Another boy’s laughter joins in, and his stomach douses in ice.

He blinks, and the garden is dark again, the ancient branches of the fig tree curling overhead like gnarled, sinister fingers.

He looks up at you, still dazed, his body spent but his mind whirling with the remnants of the pleasure and the strangeness that had gripped him so – and registers your stare, suddenly rigid and intent upon him.

He watches as you lean forward, body pressing against his. A lazy kiss, one that spurs him to chase as you lean back, tasting of those sweet figs; slick with saliva and desire as you suddenly lift a palm between you, brushing his heaving chest.

The sweetness hovers over his lips; he can nearly taste it, taste you – the scent is overwhelming, the presence of your body so close, so inviting; that hunger remains, even as his spend sticks to his trousers beneath you.

His eyes trace the macerated fig in your palm, its flesh bleeding and willing, sweet and hungering. The fig.

“Eat.”

Your voice, a soft command – and your eyes, dark, intense as they bore into his own. The fig presses lightly against his mouth, and his tongue darts to lap at the juice which gathers upon his bottom lip hungrily.

Pleasure blossoms at the taste, and in his heart swirls a yearning.

Though something stops him; a sudden wave of dizziness, a strange sensation pulling him from some darkened haze. He hesitates, blinking at the fruit in your hand.

“No.” He murmurs.

He sees it in a flash of moonlight – your smile, faltering.

It’s not disappointment, but something dark and fleeting – a deepened stare, a flash of malicious hunger; the sweetness of the garden suddenly gathers too thick, too heavy.

You’ve stilled in his lap and he vaguely registers the rigidity of your expression, some familiarly shadowed stare.

He’s not sure what he’s done wrong, but your lip trembles, and with a racing heart, he reaches for you. The look upon your visage stops him; a calculating flash in your gaze, the thin press of your lips.

And for the first time the whole night, fear creeps into his chest.

Something isn’t right.

His hand slips away from your cold touch, trembling now for a new reason; and that fig which hovers in your palm suddenly smells sickening, filled with dread and longing all at once. The soil is rotten, he thinks hazily, it’s rotten…You’re–

“Come, why won't you try? Just a bite?” Your words curl in a taunt – and he nearly responds, but you’re leaning forward, lips brushing over his ear and sending shivers down his spine. His fist curls savagely against the bark of the tree as his heart begins to pound.

“It’s only a fig, Jace.” You whisper, pressing your lips to the soft spot under his ear.

You move to lean back, the curl of your smirk against his neck melting as you shift, only a sweet smile remaining when you turn to look at him. But the fear and the desire have mixed into some beastly conviction within him.

And, in a moment of sharp courage, he catches your wrist in a firm, iron grip.

You freeze under his grasp, your eyes glinting almost ominously in the silver moonlight.

“Is it?” He snaps back, heart pounding in his chest as his jaw clicks. Somewhere in his heart, there is an unsettling air that chokes, stilling around you when you blink slowly at his question.

Your stare is sharp, but there is a flash of something there he’s not yet seen before; something, he thinks, must be mirrored in his own gaze.

Fear.

A part of him expects for your jaw to unhinge – for a beast to emerge, to swallow him whole, to rip him open and feast upon his innards; but instead your gaze shifts, and your face is small, youthfully beautiful and dripping in purity – a girl no more than his age.

And then, bone-chillingly, as though a petulant child would when denying a crime, you shake your head just lightly.

No.

A confirmation, one which sends a chill rather sharply down his spine.

And from his lips a stuttered breath – he should run, should scream; but what does such a thing do in dreams?

Yet as quickly as it came, the shadow over you vanishes.

As if he blinks and wakes from the hazy dream – your face, returned to that familiar sweetness he so adores, the chilling smile you save only for him. You cup his cheek gently, and it is enough to pull him back from the edge of terror.

Lilting and light once more, a touch of concern crossing your features as you tilt your head – “You look so troubled, my love. Where did you go?”

He blinks, confused, alarmed.

You press a kiss upon his lips, and he chases your touch. “Come back to me,” you whisper.

He blinks once more, heart still hammering - but the fear dissolves with each ancient breath of the soil beneath him; and he gazes into your eyes through the dark of night – those same eyes that have always seen him.

You understand him; and whatever that moment of dread had been— wherever he’d gone just now, into some visions conjured up by an exhausted mind – it is gone now, lost in the softness of the fig tree’s leaves, in the tenderness of your touch.

“I’m sorry, I...” You shift as you murmur and it presses against his spent arousal, his breath hitching as his eyes fall upon your sweet lips, mind fogging. “I sometimes forget myself. You’re just…”

His eyes hook upon your own, waiting; with bated breath, he waits for you.

Your lips press together bashfully, fingers toying with curls of his hair, “Special. I’m quite fond of you.” You admit, nearly shy – and an affection blossoms within Jacaerys, a grin trickling upon his lips. “I’m quite fond of you too,” He breathes, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

Your eyes lose their sharp glint as the moon falls in the sky and his shoulders lose such tension that’d built in the moments past, replaced by the soothing touch of your palm; quiet whispers and gentle laughs that lull his mind into ease.

And it is there, in the very edge of Aegon’s Garden, that you and he repose for the better hours of the ghost and wolf, whispering of lifetimes and fears and sneaking kisses between mumbled sentences. He forgets the fear he’d felt, that he’d seen in your eyes; soon, fog of morning creeps into the garden and tickles tendrils round his boots.

He is lulled into your lap again - his head rested upon the plush of a cool thigh, your dress gentle against his heated cheeks.

And though he is unsure if the words that are murmured when his eyes become heavy are real or a part of his tricking mind, they fill him with that warm affection, that love that festers in his heart.

“I wish I could stay here,” He whispers when he is half asleep from exhaustion. “With you.”

There is a pause in your fingers for a moment.

“And you can,” Your voice is laced with something he cannot see - for a moment, his mind conjures a flash of something rather wicked, the memory of your face when he’d denied the fig; though he throws away such absurdity.

You’re so very soothing, trailing your nails along his temple.

He drifts away.

HE WAKES SOME TIME LATER.

He no longer lies upon your lap; instead he is pressed against your very body, his chest shivering in the cold line of you, in the breath of icy air that threatens from the sky above.

You stir beside him; the garden is impossibly darker now - and as you sit up, he unwinds the hand he’d placed upon your waist. Uncomely, he reminds himself - though, what does it matter? What does any of it matter?

“You dreamt,” You murmur.

Disoriented, Jacaerys blinks, trying to find your face in the dark; he’s merely met with the glinting of your wide eyes against the moonlight blinking owllishly.

“I…” He frowns, uneased by your observation. “I did. It was…” He shakes his head as he tries to recall, watching your frame materialize under the dark blanket of night. “Odd. A battle - over the sea, I think. Statues – dying, crumbling into the water.” He shakes away the creeping frustration of slipping memories, however distant or unreal. “It didn’t make sense.”

You hum, and there is some specific glint in your darkened face he nearly misses; the shining of pearls outstretched against plush lips - the flash of a dark grin, sinister in the moonlight, snuffed quick by the effort of a gentle nod.

He grows even more uncomfortable in the quiet - it must be nearing the early wake of sun; his muscles yield surprisingly little soreness for sleeping upon the earth.

“Did you dream?” He wonders, relaxing as his eyes adjust to find your visage calm and sweet, watching him with a soft interest. What odd tricks his mind plays in the dark.

Your voice, ever distant: “I don’t dream.”

He’s imbued with the slow tendrils of sleep, though he frowns. “Everyone dreams,” He murmurs.

You huff smally, tilting your head in that doelike way, “I suppose I can never recall them.”

He laughs, then – a hollow thing, though recovering some of the warmth gone after the loneliness settled in those moons ago. A strained sound, though it makes you mimic his laughter in that odd way you sometimes do – and with a smile, you watch him intently.

“I enjoy hearing your laugh, Jacaerys. It’s comfortable… familiar.”

And for some odd reason, perhaps in seek of his own comforting memory, Jacaerys pictures Luke – laughter bubbling over at the drawing table of his mother’s quarters, breaking fast as a family; and a deep melancholy settles over him, pulling him deep into the pit of grief that finds him in the night.

His smile falls. “My brother used to laugh until he turned red.” He recalls, settled into that haze that begins to reclaim him, as if he’s drifting to sleep once more. “He’d lose breath sometimes – like he had to suck air out of every lung in the keep, just to keep himself from passing out. It would make him laugh harder.”

You smile in his peripheral.

His brows furrow. “He was just always so full of…light.”

He’s not sure why he offers such information – it is near impossible these days for Jacaerys to utter Luke’s name aloud, let alone think such fond memories.

Though something about the blanket of night and the gentle brush of your thigh against his own, brings a lull to his mind; as though he’s sipped too many cups of wine, or still rests in some odd state of slumber. The remainder of the fig’s juices slip past his tongue when he wettens his lip, and he’s coaxed into that state of hungry bliss – not fully satisfied, yet pleasant to repose.

Your fingers pull at the many frays of your odd dressskirts; in the faint moonlight, the fabric looks as though it has stains. Deep, dark streaks that blossom just near your breast and stomach; they seem to spread with the breaths you take, your hands beginning to shake. He blinks rapidly to rid himself of such an uneasy sight.

A statue of a man and woman across the way has caught a streak of moonlight; He’d not noticed any statue in the fig tree’s courtyard hours ago, but now it sits, gruesomely pale in the scarce silver - and their faces are rather distraught.

A familiar statue, one so alike the marbled lovers near the olive tree. A man, wind-and-water-torn, with that same arrow protruding through his flesh; and the woman in his arms watching with a transfixed expression, grasping at his arms with lonely eyes.

He tears his eyes away uneasily.

“I know a boy like that, too.” You whisper quietly, though Jacaerys is hooked upon the odd bend of the arrow which sticks through the statue’s shoulder across the way. He’s not quite sure what you mean, and his brows furrow.

“-Though,” You shrug with only one shoulder, as though mimicking the woman from the statue, “His laugh is more full of water.”

Jacaerys freezes.

His heart stops at your words, breath catching in his throat - the mention of such a thing sends a chill through him. “What—” He whispers, mind flashing back to the glimpse of curls, of that bouncing gait, of the blue that had flickered through these very hedges days ago.

“What do you mean?” He chokes.

You smile that soft smile – the one that haunts his mind, that leaves him uneasy in the flickering of moonlight. “I see him in the garden sometimes,” Your eyes flicker, gleam, “He comes here – to the fig tree – during rainstorms. He told me he used to enjoy the sound, but now he detests them.”

Jacaerys is rooted to the ground, staring wide-eyed into the yawning chasm of night; its jaw spread wide, your face the shining beacon of fire at the base of its throat.

The pain of a lost limb; of a lost soul entwined with his own, cut from the same womb, carved from the same stone. But your voice echoes drearily through the quiet silence.

“And the boy…His laugh,” Your brows knit faintly, “It’s like yours, but…drowned.”

Every hair on the nape of his neck is on end as he lets out a shaky breath. No. Lucerys is dead, he reminds himself.

Your fingers brush his hand against the soil; cold as ice.

The sensation jolts him, and he leaps to his feet, sleepclothes uncomfortable, his skin sticky from the sins of earlier. His cheeks flood with heat.

It is wrong. Dread fills him, the leak of a moat into a basin of fear; there’s something wrong about this - because Lucerys is dead, his father is dead, Rhaenys is dead - all of them, dead.

Life moves on, but the dead do not; and it is a burden he carries, and he carries alone - because the crown is too heavy to be marred by the blood of the ones you’ve loved, so Jacaerys must bear the weight for him and his mother.

How could you have seen him?

“-You know how.”

Your voice comes sharp from the tree below, and it strikes him through the stomach - and before he can consider the unnerving murmur from your lips, how you’re always seeing into the words in his mind, the thread has snapped.

It’s only a fig, Jace.

He staggers back a few steps, feet caught on the twisting gnarl of treeroot. “I’ve… I apologize, I must go.” He murmurs, swallowing thickly; and with a shaky breath, he resists the urge for his mind to spiral into that dark place, where grief and madness lie in wait.

He turns away from the lulling ease of the tree above, nearly as large a shadow as the castle itself – and takes one, two, many steps towards the hedges, chest thundering.

Perhaps you call after him.

He thinks he hears your dress snagging on thorns and branches behind him as he tears through the bowels of the rotting garden; rounding a corner, he hears a feline’s hiss, a dark rumble of thunder. The garden is wrong – a putrid thing, in the dead light of nightingale’s earliest breaths.

It is rotten soil, a voice mimics – though his heart still pounds your name into his ribs; he still misses the chilling press of your lips to his own, the sweet saccharin taste of the fruit upon your tongue.

The soil is sick, it is too rich in his nostrils; and when he staggers past the maiden statue, he is terrified to see there is no snake upon her thigh – instead her visage stares down at him with a wicked, serpentlike grin.

A shiver of fear as he blinks back terror.

Morning glories are trampled underfoot, poppies beaten until their bloody leaves smash into the soles of his boots.

Jacaerys’ eyes clench shut and he pretends not to hear the faint mix of joint laughter – warbled in the distance, a girl’s and a boy’s, bubbling over before dissolving, echoing into the crash of the icy ocean below.

An agonizing gasp of unease from him as he finally bursts to the entryyard, the wilting flowers decaying in a sickly sweet scent. He nearly retches.

When Jacaerys pushes past the gate and into the bailey’s courtyard, the breaking dawn is cloudless.

Early morningbirds chirp in the sky; waves crash down upon the shore, lit bloody with the waking sun. He is very alone.

taglist: @softspiderling @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @writtenapoiogy @fyrewept @oldtowrs @bryscorner @chloe-petrichors @jottositto @solavita @earth4angels @benjinotes @divinesolas @hxtd @astrxq @housetargaryenloyalist @bucksplum @v3lary0ns @princessvelaryon @princessbellecerise @still-jon-snow @elaena-aerrin @mckennah123 @smurfelle @alyssa-dayne @uhnanix @house-celtigar @ficlovegirlie @cregan-starks @manhandlememando @inkandarsenic @cuntlips42 @franzelt

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace x reader #jace smut #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x reader smut #jacaerys smut #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd imagine #jace velaryon

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kdogreads · 1 year ago

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You’re My Peace

Chef Luca x f!reader

TW: angsty Luca (before his Carmy epiphany), hurt/comfort-ish, cursing, established relationship

AN: I just love him 🥹 lmk what else reader x Luca should get up to! Thank you for reading 🫶

You weren’t sure what time it was when you finally heard the front door to your apartment open. You’d been in bed for an hour or two, but you couldn’t sleep without Luca softly snoring next to you, looking like your own personal Adonis even in his sleep.

He started rustling around in the kitchen as soon as the door shut, so you decided you’d get up and see what he was doing. Plus, you needed to know why he wasn’t coming to bed.

“Baby, what’s going on?” You ask groggily, startled that every light was on in the kitchen in the middle of the night, “Are you alright?”

“Sorry, my love, didn’t mean to wake you,” He stepped over to you and pecked a soft kiss into your forehead before turning back to the counter.

You stood in silence a moment, trying to make sense of all the utensils and plates Luca was pulling out of the cabinets at 1:30 — no, 1:33, you noticed — in the morning. He’d already been gone all day at school, putting in hours more than required.

“Baby,” You sighed and closed the gap between you, gently grabbing his face and making him look down at you, “Can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow? You have to be tired, Lu.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning over you so his lungs filled with the scent of your coconut shampoo. His lips pressed into the top of your head for a moment before he started to speak.

“I’ll be 10 minutes, love, I promise,” He kissed your forehead again, “Then I’ll come to bed.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, “Jesus, Luca, come on.”

You stepped back as his hands began reaching for the spice cabinet. He shot you an apologetic look before he started grabbing things off the shelf.

“I know, baby, it’s just that Carmy, ah, the bloke I’ve been telling you about-,” He rambled as you searched for any more patience left in your body, “-yeah, he made this, uh, this dish today and I’ve almost got it down—.”

His voice trailed off as he kept opening cabinets and drawers, pulling more spoons and bowls and testing your resilience all the while.

“Luca, please, it’s late—,” You started.

“Really, love, just 10 more minutes.”

“Luca—,” He kept moving, clearly not sensing your impending implosion.

“Baby, come on,” You tried one last time before you couldn’t keep your volume down anymore, “Luca!”

He instantly dropped the wooden spoon in his hand, turning his full attention to you. He never raised his voice at you, and you’d never yelled at him.

“Please, baby, listen to me,” You started softly, stroking his broad shoulders with a gentle touch, “You know how much I want this for you, and I love you so damn much for your dedication, but I need you to be here when you are here.”

Luca let out a shaky breath, his warm hands reaching up to cup your face tenderly. His slender fingers reached into your hair and pulled you up towards him, pressing his lips into yours in a slow, languid kiss.

He leaned back slightly, far enough to slide his right hand down to his chest, clutching it into a fist and circling his heart. I’m sorry.

You mirrored his motions, dropping your hand down to circle your own heart with a bit more fervor. I’m sorry, too.

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment until Luca closed his eyes and leaned his head into your shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist and pulled you to him like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Your own arms drifted around his just as tight. One hand was tangled in his messy curls while the other drew pictures absentmindedly onto his back.

“I just thought I could be the best, thought I was the best,” Luca spoke into your neck, his muscles relaxing as your hands danced over them, “And realizing I’m not, that I never can be, it’s just—.”

“A lot,” You finish for him, helping him not have to think.

“A lot,” He mirrors.

“Hey,” You gently pull his face up to meet your soft gaze, “You don’t have to be the best to be really damn good.”

The corners of his mouth twitch up slightly, almost in a smile, “I know that now. I think I just had to— I don’t know, make peace with that.”

You send him a knowing smile as his lips drift to meet yours again, a little deeper this time.

“Plus,” You begin, “If anyone is going to out-chef you, Chef, it has to be Carmy. He’s like, from another planet or something.”

Luca huffs out a laugh and your heart immediately feels lighter.

“Carm is really good,” Luca chuckles, “He’s got something special.”

“Just as special as you have, Lu.”

He kisses you like he’s trying to pour all of his love into you in just this moment. Your mind swirls as his lips leave yours, batting your eyes open to clear your head.

You placed a peck on his firm shoulder and step away to head back to bed. It’s only a few seconds of clanging until Luca is closing your bedroom door behind him.

“Dishes’ll be there tomorrow,” He mumbles as he climbs into bed, his weight practically collapsing into the plush surface.

You slid into place beside him, one leg tangled over his as his strong arms pull you into his chest. Luca’s warm hands sent a shiver up your spine.

“I should’ve just talked to you, my love. I’m sorry,” Luca stroked his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Heard, Chef,” You smirked but meant it just the same, “Can’t scare me off that easy.”

Luca smiled and tucked you into his chest, wanting to hold you as close as he could. His heart beat evened out as he felt your own, strong and steady, drawing him out of his anxiety.

You ran your fingertips of Luca’s toned back as he pressed gentle kisses into your cheek and neck. The two of you shared a comfortable, warm silence for a moment before a thought popped into Luca’s head.

“I thought I had to make my own peace,” He pulled away from you so he could see your face, “But I think you are my peace, love. You are always the answer.”

Your eyes prickled with tears, seeing the truth and adoration in Luca’s gaze. He’s saying all this while you’re trying to figure out how he thinks he’s the lucky one.

You wrack your brain for the right words, but all that comes out is, “I love you so fucking much, Lu.”

Luca stared down at you lovingly, planting needy kisses onto your lips.

“I love you just the same, my peace.”

————

It wasn’t more than a month before a delicate peace dove tattoo showed up on Luca’s forearm. Followed closely by a framed portrait of he and Carmy on the wall in your kitchen.

“Both sent me to war,” He teased when you questioned the timing, “But both brought me peace.”

#luca the bear #luca x reader #chef luca x reader #chef luca #the bear hulu #the bear imagine #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #kdogreads

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1mlostnow · 6 months ago

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Okayyy I wanna do another notes thing bc it was fun last time 😝 small reach for each goal bc some of them I actually need to do.

Uhm please keep reblogs 10 and below, but no limit on comments or tags :3

So far ->

10 - I actually finish that spn episode (I never did..I tried though)

20 - I’ll try to post more on @1mfoundnow (poetry and writing…if you wanna see that, yk)

50 - I rehearse in the mornings before camp as well as at camp

100 - I sleep before midnight AND have real meals with my meds, not just half an apple

200 - I deal with *that* corner in my room

300 - weekly laundry, not just when the baskets full

400 - Bowie makeup cuz I wanna feel pretty in the guy way

500 - talk to my mom about binders

600 - I write a short fic (house md ocs :))

700 - I get up to five driving hours this week (already at three ish I’m starting drivers ed a bit late)

800 - I drive to camp next week (or the week after, depending on the timing of this)

900 - I write all of the poems that I’ve had ideas for but never followed through on. And share progress/rough drafts/accept feedback

1000 - i bake brownies :))

1500 - actually announce open commissions, though idk if they can be called that bc they’re free

2000 - find my style this year

2500 - I finish 3 long books and 2 short by November (been in a super bad reading slump)

3000…. Idk ! Give me more goals! Some ideas pertaining to..idk reading, writing, drawing, full meals, fixed sleep schedule, band/band camp, cleaning, self care, mental health, or something completely different!!!!! I doubt we’ll reach this point but it’s nice to have an idea of stuff I need to do.

#evan speaks #notes #goals #notes goal #mental health #i need to improve #a lot #of things #yk?#I do hope we at least make it to the fics bc that’s something I’ve really wanted to do but just never had motivation for #dps #house md #hannibal #homestuck

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e-dubbc11 · 1 month ago

Text

A Christmas Wish

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, smooches, mentions of Billy’s shitty childhood and a couple of swear words.

Word Count: 2.1K-ish

Summary: You love decorating the Christmas tree but Billy doesn’t and he tries to put on a smile for you so you try to make it better by giving him a few special gifts.

A/N: Greetings and Happy 2025 to my lovely friends! Hope you are well and I apologize for being quiet lately. I’ve been sick and my entire week off from work was spent trying to recover from whatever lovely cold is going around.

I tried to put this out before Christmas but obviously that didn’t happen and I’ve also been a little bummed about friendly interaction, everyone seems to have disappeared but whatever, I digress.

Oh I’m also thinking about trimming down my tag list again just because I don’t feel like wasting anyone’s time if you’re not interested in reading my fics anymore. I dunno, I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I’m sure it will pass…

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Some of them were very delicate.

The ornaments were old, made from very thin glass and passed down to you by your parents, that they received from THEIR parents. There were a handful that said “Baby’s First Christmas” followed by your name written in beautiful script. A pink bulb that was stuffed with “angel hair” was one of your favorites. That’s what your dad used to tell you when you were little which you thought was a cute story.

Billy had taken the ornament tote out of storage so the two of you could decorate the tree together. Mostly, he just sat back and let you decorate the tree. He wasn’t particularly fond of this time of year or any holiday.

A brass ornament with a sleeping baby and the year you were born, a red bauble with your name written in silver glitter on the side, and a bone ornament with your childhood dog’s name on it were a few more of your favorites.

Each ornament had a story like who gave it to you and what year, and if there was a reason they picked that particular one. The dates ranged from the time you were born up until recent years. Some of them were handmade from when you were a child that your father thought you might like to have along with the one he gave you last year with a picture of you and Billy inside for your first Christmas together.

Trimmed to perfection, which was obviously Billy’s doing, the tree stood impressively in front of one of the large windows in the penthouse so it could be seen by others, looking out from the tops of their buildings. The warm white lights shined against the dark green needles, giving off an enticing invitation that made it so you couldn’t help but stare at it.

The branches were full and abundant with plenty of room for all of your ornaments as shades of red, green, and gold bounced off the delicate glow of the white lights.

This time of year brought back so many fond memories for you. Billy couldn’t say the same thing. Growing up without a family, this time of year was just a reminder of all the holidays he spent in the group home, alone.

He didn’t have any ornaments from childhood to hang on the tree.

“The decorations they put up just made me more depressed.” He had told you. “The old pathetic little fake tree, it was all bullshit, and it just made me hate her even more for leaving. They called the group home Ray of Hope but there was nothing hopeful about that place.”

He had a mother, she had been out there somewhere but she didn’t want him. She never did. That shattered your heart, twisted your stomach into knots, and left you wondering how a mother could do that to her own child.

The darkness that comes with the winter months is hard enough so you thought a tree would light up that darkness, make it colorful, and maybe brighten his day just a little bit.

Billy put the tree up for you, because you wanted it and because he loved to see you smile, even though the Christmas season didn’t bring him any happy memories like it did for you.

But you were determined to make it better, he deserved it and you loved him more than anything.

**********

If he had ever wanted to talk about it, Billy would be the first one to tell you that his childhood was shit but he worked hard to make sure children in need would have a better Christmas than he ever did so he helped out collecting Toys for Tots during this time of year.

So he had a lot of long December days where he wouldn’t get home until late.

The lights in the penthouse were dimmed to create a warm and cozy environment for when Billy came home. The presents you had for him were nicely wrapped and sitting on the large coffee table near the couch, you picked up his favorite cookies from the bakery, and had a glass of his favorite bourbon ready and waiting for him.

His keys jingled in the door handle as he walked through the door.

“Another late one, sweet girl. I’m sorry.” Said Billy.

He was always so apologetic when he worked late but you understood.

On cold nights like tonight, you loved to sit in the dark, a fire blazing in the fireplace, relax in comfortable clothes, with nothing but the Christmas tree lights on, and quietly look out at the city skyline. You had been enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and reading your book when Billy walked through the door.

He walked over to the couch to give you a quick kiss and then head to his office but you stopped him.

“Can you sit for a minute, handsome? Please?” You asked.

He desperately wanted to get more work done before really calling it a night plus he liked to find any excuse he could to not be near the Christmas tree.

“Can it wait, baby? I just wanna get a little work done.” He said, firmly.

Normally, you could wait a little while until he was finished but tonight was different, this was for him, and you just really wanted to give him something special.

But you decided to put your foot down.

“No…actually, it can’t wait, Billy.” You said.

Billy hated to disappoint you or make you angry with him so he sat down on the couch, next to you. He noticed the present as he took a sip of bourbon.

“Did you get an early present from someone at work or somethin’?” He asked.

Biting down on your lower lip, you shook your head and tried to keep from smiling. You were excited to give him his presents.

“It’s for you, Billy.” You said, softly.

Billy set his glass down, looked at you and then looked at the box.

“But Christmas isn’t for two weeks, sweet girl.” He said with a slight smile.

You replied, “I know…open it.”

The wrapping paper was all white and you had tied a perfect bow with royal blue ribbon. His long fingers carefully untied the ribbon and set it aside. Billy then tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a large white box. As he removed the top, he stared at the blue tissue paper inside for a minute before digging around for the gifts underneath.

Billy first pulled out his United States Marine Corps ornament. He read the saying on the back out loud for you.

“From the Halls of Montezuma

To the shores of Tripoli

We fight our country’s battles

In the air, on land, and sea;

First to fight for right and freedom

And to keep our honor clean;

We are proud to claim the title

Of United States Marines.”

Billy looked over at you and started to say, “Baby, this is…”

But you stopped him.

“There’s more, my love. Keep going.” You said, kissing him on the cheek.

He found his Christmas stocking next. It looked like yours except his was red to go along with your green one and his name was embroidered at the top, in the same font to match yours, and a hook to hang it from, over the fireplace. The final gift in the box was a plain red bulb ornament with his name written in silver glitter on it, just like the one you received as a child.

You wanted Billy to have ornaments that were his and his alone for him to hang on the tree. You hoped it would make this time of year a little happier for him.

“Sometimes I forget that this time of year isn’t pleasant for everyone. I was hoping to make it a little better for you, Billy. So I got you ornaments that are just for you.” You said.

He replied, holding the stocking and glitter ornament in his hand, “They’re just like yours.”

“I wish I could take away your bad memories, but I can’t. So I thought maybe if you had new memories…that, um…” You trailed off with a hitch in your voice.

Billy didn’t let you finish. He just leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your lips, the sweet taste of vanilla and a little spicy from the nutmeg on his from the sips of bourbon he had a few minutes ago, and the woodsy scent of his cologne floated past your nose as you kissed him back.

The warm white lights reflected in his onyx colored eyes and his smile traveled from the curl in his lip, up to the lines around his eyes. Billy didn’t have to say how he was feeling, you could see it in his eyes, see it in his smile, and you felt it in the way he kissed you.

“These are just…I don’t…thank you, sweet girl.” Said Billy.

He looked over at the tree for the first time since he arrived home and actually smiled. Billy finally had his own ornaments to hang on the Christmas tree and he looked excited about it.

“Go ahead, baby.” You said with a warm smile.

Billy rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, loosened his tie, stood up while carefully holding his ornaments, walked over to the tree and pondered about where he should place them. You knew the perfectionist in him wanted to pick out the perfect spot for them.

He found your ornament with your name written in silver glitter and he placed his on the branch next to it. Billy then found a branch near the top for his Marines ornament that he needed the stepladder to reach and he hung his stocking on the opposite end of the fireplace from where yours was. He said he had to keep it “symmetrical” which made you chuckle. There’s that perfectionist trait hard at work again.

Billy actually looked content, finding places for his ornaments and hanging his stocking on the fireplace. He finally had the experience that he didn’t get to do when he was young.

Forced to grow up faster than he should have, Billy Russo’s childhood was stolen from him by the person that was supposed to protect him and love him but she didn’t. His mother left him and never looked back so it really wasn’t a mystery of why he didn’t trust anyone, why he never got close to anyone, or why he never had a long term relationship.

You were helping him work through some of that pain and building trust so he would never have to go through any of that hurt ever again.

As he sat down, you let your head gently fall against his chest as he kissed the top of your head. You felt your eyelids getting heavy and it was a relief to close them as you pulled your legs up onto the couch. His body was a warm cradle for yours.

“I love you.” Whispered Billy, kissing the top of your head again.

With your eyes closed still, you smiled and replied, “I love you too, Billy. I just want all your Christmas wishes to come true.”

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, my love. My only wish is I wish I didn’t have to wait so long for you.” He said in barely more than a whisper.

Tears stung the back of your eyes as your heart began to race and your fingers started to tingle. All Billy had ever wanted was to be loved and something as simple as a Christmas ornament with his name on it, you knew he’d cherish it forever because it came from someone who showed him he deserved to be loved and he was worthy of affection.

You finally understood why Billy always kept you close, why he never let you wander too far from him, and why he had a hand on you at all times. Sometimes he held on a little too tight but it was because he didn’t want what he had to go away or be taken from him like it had all those years ago.

The little toy soldier that was attached to his keys was the first thing you ever gave him and he was constantly reaching into his pocket to make sure it was there. Just like the ornaments, the toy soldier might seem insignificant or small to anyone else, but to him, it was everything.

You gave him back some of the childhood that was taken from him and you will never forget the smile that stretched across his face.

Your parents always said that it was better to give than receive…and giving Billy a happy Christmas memory allowed you to finally experience what they had been talking about.

And they were absolutely right. Making Billy Russo smile really was the best feeling in the world.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @vaguekayla @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @aoi-targaryen @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf @sweetserendipity65

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads @jediwizardelf @thejanecampaign @milea @folkloreofyennefer @mysweetlittledesire

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n #billy russo fluff

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flawdchaos · 9 months ago

Text

Lips of an Angel

Lando Norris x Reader

based on lips of an angel by hinder (if you haven’t heard this song pls listen to it because it’s a banger and this is heavily based on it.)

tw: angst, kinda sorta cheating, reader and lando being dummies

a/n - hi friends, this is my first time writing for f1. i’ve written before on here and took a break to study on class work. i’ve fallen back into my f1 phase and dreamt this up on the way into work tonight. i hope you enjoy, feel free to give me feedback. thank you xx

word count - 1500 (ish)

Lando’s room illuminated from the soft glow of his phone on the bedside table, buzzing against the base of the lamp. He moved as delicately as he could, careful to not wake the girl sleeping on his chest, to see who could be calling so late. He rubbed his eyes and squinted reading the name across his screen, the name he chose to disguise Y/N’s contact.

JULIE - MARKETING.

He slid out from under the girl, tiptoeing to the hallway before whispering a hello through the phone.

“Lando?” the voice shook through the phone. “Lando, I’m sorry.” he could hear it now, the sniffles and uneven breaths - she was crying. He crept down the hallway a bit more in an attempt to gain distance from his bedroom and sleeping companion.

“Y/N, why are you crying? Is everything alright?” he whispered, being met with only sniffles. “I’m in the living room. I have to whisper. What’s wrong?” He was growing impatient in her silence, the worry growing each minute he was on the phone call.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this - this pretending. I want you for myself. Call me selfish,” she took a deep breath in “, but I deserve you - not her.”

She had never been this brash before but he couldn’t blame her. After months of secret conversations, shared glances, and hugs that lingered just a little too long - he had to agree with her.

What they shared wasn’t meant to happen in the first place. Lando and Y/N had been in the same friend groups for years, only knowing each other mutually. It stayed that way until one night when they found themselves alone at the bar, friends having left long ago. One too many drinks and the heavy hand of the bartender led them back to Lando’s flat in London. They agreed the next morning, for the sanctity of their ‘friendship’ it would never happen again - but, they were both lying to themselves and they knew it. One night turned into two and before they realized it, the rest of Lando’s winter break was shared mostly in the sheets of his bed. It was only when he was leaving back to Monaco that things came to a halt abruptly. No conversation or discussion of what the hell had just happened over the past few months, just radio silence on both ends. It was an unspoken ending between the two.

That was until a couple months later and during Lando’s first podium of the season that he found himself wishing she were there to celebrate with him. Drunkenly, he debated his options and finally decided to send her a text telling her just how much he missed her and the things they would do. His text sat unattended in her messages for the rest of the night because while Lando was thinking of her, she was doing everything she could to forget about him - and this included making the same trek home from the bar with a stranger. Come morning the only thing the pair was left with was regret.

Y/N was the first to reach back out again after his crash in Las Vegas. She couldn’t admit to her friends just how shaken it had her but she tossed and turned in the bed for over an hour before picking up her phone.

Glad you’re okay. Try to stay out of the wall next time, yeah?

Her name lighting up his phone had his heart beating almost as fast as the adrenaline of crashing did. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as his mind raced on what to say. It was late in the UK so his response would probably go unnoticed until the morning. Or - had she stayed up that late to watch him race? Or should he say crash.

“What’s got you stumped, mate?” Max’s voice broke him from his daze as he glanced over his shoulder. “Y/N, aye? Just admit it.”

Lando’s head shot up to meet Max’s stare. “Admit what?”

“That you’re fucking whipped. I’ve seen you stalking her instagram.”

Something about Max’s words ignited a feeling within him. For the first time in his “playboy” career - Lando Norris was scared of his feelings.

—

It wasn’t long after the Las Vegas Grand Prix that Y/N had noticed a shift in Lando. He was almost nonexistent on her social media - no likes, hearts or story views. She chalked it up to the busy life he lived but when she clicked through his ‘close friends’ instagram story, her heart fell to her stomach. Lando had his arms wrapped around another girl, lips pressed against her cheek in front of a mirror. All of her questions and doubts were confirmed with a simple click and despite him owing her anything, she felt betrayed. Y/N couldn’t deny it anymore - the time she had spent with Lando was a whirlwind and no matter how many nights she spent curled up in bed, their bodies pressed together, she was always left wanting more.

On the mornings she woke before him, which had been every morning except two, she had found herself tangled in his arms feeling safe and secure. The true depth of her feelings came to be when she slowly awoke one morning to Lando running his arms down hers and placing a soft kiss on her forehead, vowing to return shortly. He stuck true to his promise when he crept back into the bedroom, two cups of tea tucked safely in his hands. She realized then that a small snippet of a domestic life with Lando was all she ever wanted but when he spoke again, the reality of their situation came back into play.

“Max is coming over in an hour to set up some stuff for the new Youtube video. I don’t mean to rush you but I figured our secret was still between us.” She nodded and hummed before taking another sip of her tea.

“Sure thing. I’ll be gone as soon as we finish our tea.”

Y/N finally realized, after viewing Lando’s story, that she had to move on. Find somebody to distract her from the replays of her intimate moments shared with Lando - and so she did. The pair both settled into mediocre “relationships” to distract themselves from the constant longing they had for each other. Subtle posts made to stories in hopes to cause jealousy in each other were made almost weekly. Lando had been seeing a girl one of his mates had set him up with, and Y/N had met a guy at a bar in London on a girls night out. Neither of them were unhappy, per se, but nothing matched the energy that the pair had shared before. On nights after rough races and a few drinks, Lando would have dreams that the girl in his arms wasn’t who had been currently seeing but Y/N instead. One dream had sent him over the edge and he had called her that night to hear her voice.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. His longing was quickly turning into regret as he realized this was probably a mistake before her soft voice filled the phone, she was whispering.

“Lando?” his heart was racing at the mere sound of her voice.

“Y/N, I’m sorry to wake you.” he said, hand raising to his mouth as he started biting at his fingernails.

“It’s okay, are you alright?”. She was still whispering.

“Uhm,” he began, shuffling his feet against the rug below him. “Fuck. This is so stupid…but I had a dream about you. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“A dream? About me?” he could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone, probably trying to put distance between her and her partner just like he had done.

“Yeah. A dream. It isn’t the first one I’ve had either.” They were both silent for a moment before he continued. God, why was he admitting this. “And I guess they’ve just helped me realize some things.” His heart was beating so hard that he figured she could hear it through the phone. A sharp intake of breath from her end of the phone had him biting at his nails again.

“What things, Lan?” Lan. He hadn’t heard her say that in months.

“My girl’s asleep in the next room. John is probably in the room next to you asleep. We’re kilometers and kilometers apart but yet, despite all of that, every time I close my fucking eyes all I see is you. All I hear is you laughing. I dream of you.” He sat down, head in his hands. “I guess I never really moved on, Angel.” The nickname had given her long ago falling effortlessly from his lips.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if she hung up the phone, called him a dickhead, and never spoke to him again. All of the worst options lived in his head. The last thing he expected her to say was,

“Lan, I dream of you too.”

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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atleastpleasetelephone · 2 months ago

Text

Little Darling

Chapter 7 - I wanna be in love

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate class.

Word Count: 3.9K ish

TWs: Possessive kink, dollification if you squint, Elvis is a little dominant, praise kink, use of Daddy in a sexual context, fingering, p in v sex, erectile dysfunction, crying, self-esteem issues.

Elvis spends the rest of the week living in Tegan’s apartment, trying to do something to keep it tidy and also trying to cook them both dinner. He burns a lot of things and ends up ordering a lot of deliveries, but she finds the fact that he keeps trying to do things for her that he’s never had to do for himself incredibly endearing. Elvis likes being in the apartment. It’s harder to feel lonely in a place so much smaller than Graceland, and he looks forward to Tegan coming home from work every day. He buys her little gifts to make up for the terrible food and also for the time when he did a load of washing and somehow managed to dye all of her white clothes pale pink. He reads and sometimes he calls Jerry, who he’s been missing lately and who he wants to update on his relationship more than anyone, for some reason. Maybe he’s trying to give the other man hope for the future, as he goes through what sounds like a messy divorce. Elvis empathises, more than he thinks his friend really realises.

It’s Friday, and Elvis hears the clunk of the door and rushes to greet Tegan.

“Hey baby. Good day at work?”

He already has his arms around her and is kissing her neck before she’s even got her shoes off.

She giggles. “Yes, thanks. Tiring, but good.”

“Thought ya were never comin’ home.”

“Sorry, the session dragged on longer than expected.” She looks around the apartment. “What have you been up to?”

“Cleaning,” he replies, proudly. “Cleaned the kitchen. Mopped the floor.”

She turns her head and puts a hand up to stroke his cheek. “You’re getting to be such a good little house husband, ‘raur,” she teases.

He growls in her ear, squeezing her and tickling her and making her squeal and laugh at the same time. “Don’tcha go tellin’ anyone about this. I’ve gotta reputation to live up ta.”

“I promise. I’ll tell them you just laze around all day, when you’re not having sex with supermodels.”

He sniggers. “It’s not lazin’, it’s post-coital recovery time.”

“Exactly.”

They look at one another for a moment and then he leans down and kisses her thoroughly.

“Gotcha a gift, baby.”

Letting her go, he walks over to the kitchen counter, picking up the fancy bag there and handing it to her.

“Of course you did, it’s a day with a y in it,” she replies. He pouts and plays at looking dejected, and she kisses him again. “I’m teasing. You know I love presents.”

“Presents,” he repeats, mimicking her accent. “Presents for Queenie.”

She puts the bag down and launches herself at him, telling him off for making fun of her whilst poking and tickling him. He laughs, easily fending her off for a while, but the more she tells him to stop taking the piss out of her accent the funnier he finds it, and he ends up giggling helplessly on the sofa, with her on top of him tickling him and making it worse.

“Please… please… ahhh... I surrender!”

She laughs and flops down onto his chest, both of them exhausted and breathing heavily.

“Ya gonna open them?” He asks, when he’s got his breath back.

She sits up, half on his lap and half on the sofa. “Depends. Are you going to keep taking the piss out of me?”

Elvis bites his lip, sniggering and trying really hard not to make a comment about what she’d just said. “N-no, honey. I uh… I’ll keep quiet.”

“You better.”

He grins as he watches her get up and walk over to the bag. She’s wearing one of her work outfits, a brightly patterned blouse and a form-fitting pencil skirt, and he can’t help wishing that the apartment was wider so that he could watch her walking away from him for a little longer.

“You looking at my arse, Mr. Presley?” She asks, walking back with the bag now.

“Guilty as charged, ma’am.”

She snorts, sitting back down next to him and pulling two large boxes out of the bag. They’re both from a fancy clothes boutique, and she opens the first one to a sea of gold material. Finding spaghetti straps she decides it’s probably a dress, and lifts it up by them to get a better look at it.

“For ya to wear tomorrow,” he says as she stares at it.

“I thought it was just a casual barbeque?”

The dress looks like something a disney princess would wear, with an asymmetrical skirt made of layers of gauzy golden material.

“Yer my Queenie, so ya have to dress like one.” He smiles and kisses her. “Ya want a crown too? I bet I could get Lowell to make ya one.”

She giggles. “I don’t need a crown. Elvis, this is too much. This is something to wear to a fancy dinner, not a barbeque with Lisa and Maria and Sonny.”

He shakes his head. “I said yer wearin’ it, so yer wearin’ it.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she replies, a teasing smile on her lips.

His hand reaches for the necklace she’s wearing, holding the diamond-encrusted initials between his fingers. “Think ya know I am.”

She blushes, looking down at his fingers around the letters and squeezing her thighs together. He notices immediately and smirks, letting the necklace go and lightly slapping the side of her thigh.

“C’mon. Open the other one.”

Putting the first box to the side, she pulls the lid off the second one. A gold bikini. She should’ve known.

“Elvis it’s gorgeous, but…”

His hand, which had been resting on the outside of her thigh, shifts a little and gives her leg another firm slap.

“Uh-uh. No. Yer wearin’ it under that dress. No arguments.”

She looks up into his bright blue eyes as they stare back at her. He looks deadly serious, but she can’t help pushing him a little.

“I hope you’re going to be wearing something a bit nicer than this then.” She tugs at the sleeve of his tracksuit top.

“Oooh woman! Do not test me!” He’s laughing a little at first, as he grabs her and pushes her onto the sofa cushions, rolling himself on top and pinning her beneath him. But then his face changes to complete seriousness. “I will wear whatever I goddamn please, and you will wear whatever I tell ya.” Her heart thumps in her chest and blood rushes in her ears as she stares back at him.

The seriousness lasts for all of five seconds and then his mouth falls into that cute lopsided grin and his eyes shine with amusement. “I’m kiddin’, darlin’. But I think you’ll look damn good in that bikini and that dress. And I’ll wear somethin’ decent. Got my whole closet at home to choose from.”

She nods, her heart racing.

“You okay, baby?”

She blushes a deeper red and puts a hand over her eyes. “I kind of enjoyed that.”

“Oh really?”

“Mmmm.”

“So you’d like it if I told ya that ya had to wear those clothes? And I want yer nails painted to match?”

She nods, hand still over her eyes. “I kind of enjoyed the way you said it, too.” She bites her lip and cringes a little at her own words. He quite often played with being possessive in bed, telling her that her pussy belonged to him and he could have it whenever he wanted, but this was a bit different. This was something she didn’t know she liked.

Elvis smirks a little at how coy she’s being. He gently takes her hand off her face and gives her a reassuring kiss. Then he shifts so he can push her skirt up, briefly noticing her panties as he pushes them to the side and slides his fingers against her. She definitely had been enjoying it.

“You’re gonna wear what I tell you to,” he hisses, voice low and menacing in her ear. “No more arguments.”

His middle finger slides inside her, curling around and making her cry out. “Oh!”

“You’re gonna wear that goddamn dress tomorrow to the barbeque. I want you ta look good for me.”

His finger pumps in and out of her steadily. She whimpers.

“What’s ‘at?”

“Mmm. Yes. Yes I’m going to wear it.”

“Good girl.”

Tegan can hear her own breath coming out in little pants as she closes her eyes, feeling another finger pushing inside her alongside the first.

“I don’t like these panties.”

Her eyes spring open again and she looks at him, nervously. “S-sorry,” she mumbles, her head spinning, trying to remember which ones she put on this morning.

“Get rid of ‘em. I only want ya in matching sets.” His voice is low and even and his face is deadly serious, none of his usual smirking and joking and teasing. He’s enjoying himself though, watching the look on her face and feeling the way her body is reacting to him, her hips bucking into his hand.

She closes her eyes, half-afraid of his serious expression, half turned on by it. She feels his fingers gripping her cheeks and opens them again.

“You listenin’ ta me?” His tone is harsh and she nods quickly.

“Y-yes. I won’t wear them again, I’ll throw them away.”

“Yes, what?” He asks, then presses his lips to her ear. “I know ya wanna call me somethin’, baby,” he murmurs, in an entirely softer tone.

She’d nearly slipped up a couple of times when they were in bed together, responding “yes, d…Elvis…” and even murmuring “daddy” once, so quietly that he’d almost missed it. Her husband had been a little older, and she’d liked to call him that in bed sometimes. But she wasn’t sure how Elvis would feel about it, especially not after all of the stuff that had been written in the paper about their respective ages. So she’d tried to hold back, sticking to her Welsh pet names for him. But he’d obviously figured it out and now it seems like he wants her to say it.

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers.

He growls, pushing her legs back and thrusting his fingers in and out of her harder and faster. She throws her head back and moans. He feels his dick hard in his pants at the same time as she is soaking wet and ready for him, and he doesn’t want to miss his opportunity. They’d fooled around a few more times since the disastrous attempt at Graceland, but she was never quite relaxed or turned on enough and he usually ended up losing his erection mid-way through.

He hurriedly pulls his sweatpants down along with his boxer shorts, sliding his fingers back out of her as he pumps himself a few times with one hand. Her senses are still reeling, and so she doesn’t realise what’s happening until he starts to push inside her, stretching her so much it hurts a little.

“Ow. Elvis!”

He looks up quickly, just about managing to pause what he’s doing and praying it doesn’t mean he’s about to lose his erection again.

“Rub your dick on me, get it wetter.” Tegan knows she’s not really supposed to be telling him what to do right now, but that feels closer to penetration than anything that they’d done before, and she knows he just needs a little more lube.

He grunts, pulling the tip back out of her and continuing his silent prayers about staying hard. Pulling her panties off and throwing them across the room, he pushes her legs back again and exposes her pussy, groaning at the way it’s glistening with her wetness. They both moan at the sensation of him rubbing himself against her, his foreskin moving back and forth on her puffy clit, desperate for stimulation.

He huffs out a loud breath.

“That’s enough,” he says, half to himself but also in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “Yer mine and I wanna fuck you.”

She whines at his words and then at his dick pushing inside her, this time making it past the head, the whole shaft sliding inside until his balls rest against her skin. She’s whimpering at how full she feels, and he just stays there for a moment, as the two of them stare at one another in something like disbelief.

She props herself up on her elbows so she can look him right in the eye.

“Please fuck me, Daddy.”

The sofa is not the easiest place to have sex, and his knees slip every so often as he starts to thrust in and out of her. He grabs hold of the back of it for balance and although it’s deep he starts to worry a bit about falling off. Eventually she flops onto her back and holds her arms out for him, so he lays on top of her, kissing her needily as his hips jut into hers and her legs wrap around his waist.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, between kisses.

“Mmm. Yes. Really good. You?”

He nods, breathlessly. “Damn good.” His eyes close in pleasure and he buries his face in her neck.

He starts to try and speed up his thrusts but the sofa cushions start sliding out, unbalancing both of them.

“Ah, fuck.”

He pauses and they look at one another, both a little sweaty, their foreheads pressed together.

“You think we can move to the bedroom?” She asks.

“Think we’ll have ta try.”

They kiss a little more and then Elvis gets up, slowly pulling out, going back to his silent prayers. They shed their clothes as quickly as they can on their way to the bedroom, until they’re both naked in the bed. Elvis looks down and sighs.

“Think that was one step too far fer the little guy.”

Tegan bursts out laughing. She finds Elvis’ tendency to talk about his dick like it’s its own person absolutely hilarious.

“Well you laughin’ at him won’t help any, honey.” He frowns.

“I’m laughing at you, not your dick.”

“Hmmm.” He tries to look annoyed but he can barely hold in his own amusement.

“Let’s see if we can, er, perk him up a bit,” she says, wrapping her hand around Little Elvis and starting to work him up and down. “Think he liked it when you were kinda bossy to me, earlier.”

“Mmm.” Elvis’ hand strokes her side. “I think he did too.” He thinks for a moment. She’s naked now, so he can’t really say things about her clothes anymore, and he’s done her outfit for tomorrow. He always liked his girls to have nice hair and nails in the past though, and keep them done for him. Maybe that would work.

“Don’t think yer keepin’ yerself lookin’ good enough fer me, are ya?” He begins.

Her eyes go wide, wondering what he means. “I-I don’t know. I try to look nice…” she trails off, a little unsure.

He puts his hand in her hair and pulls it a little. “I want you in the salon every week so yer hair’s lookin’ real pretty for me at the weekend.”

She nods, rushing out a quick, “yes, Daddy,” when he looks stern. She feels him start to get harder in her hand again and pumps a little faster.

“An’ no chips in yer nails,” he continues. “Can’t have ya goin’ round, lookin’ a mess.”

She can hear herself whimpering again, knowing his words are making her wet even as she worries a little that he does think she’s a mess and she’s not really pretty enough to be on his arm.

His erection is back so he pulls her hand off his dick, knocking her onto her back and pushing her legs up. Continuing to grip her hand in his, he holds it up so he can examine her fingernails. He shakes his head, giving a low whistle and letting her hand drop back down onto the bed.

“Ya better get those fixed fer tomorrow.”

He lines himself up and pushes inside her again, this time in one movement, making her groan and her eyes roll back in her head.

“Ya hear me, little girl?”

She nods quickly. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll get them fixed. Ohhhh.”

He starts to move and now he’s on a mattress and not a sofa he goes hard and fast straight away. Holding onto her thigh with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other he pounds into her. Watching as her breasts bounce with every thrust and loving the feeling of her pussy hugging him tightly, he tries to pay attention to her movements, her breathing, her little tells. Wanting to know when she’s close.

“Whose pussy is this, baby?” He asks, panting, feeling his own release starting to build as he sees her hands grasping at the bedding and balling into fists.

“Yours, Daddy,” she moans back.

“Good girl. Cum for Daddy.”

His thumb rubs her clit more firmly as he carries on his assault on her pussy, his orgasm right at the base of his dick now. As she arches her back she feels him hit somewhere inside her that makes her want to scream, and the combination of that and the way he’s touching her with his thumb is finally enough to trigger waves of pleasure washing over her as she cums. Feeling herself let go completely, the noises that fall from her mouth may as well be screams as her walls squeeze and squeeze and tip Elvis over the edge too, making him cum hard and deep inside her. He cries out in ecstasy, falling on top of her, and the two of them lie there together, dizzy with pleasure.

When he finally feels like he can move again, he rolls off her and pulls her into his arms. She puts an arm and a leg around him too, cuddling up close.

“That was incredible. Baby, we did it!”

She buries her face in his chest. “I can’t believe it,” she mumbles into his skin.

“Ya had a good time?” He asks, suddenly worried that her response isn’t quite as enthusiastic as he was expecting.

“Mmm. Yeah, it was amazing.”

He strokes her back. “But?”

There’s a long pause, where she tries to work out what to say, how to phrase it so she doesn’t sound silly. Eventually she just looks up, shyly, and says, “do you think I look a mess?”

Elvis blinks, wondering why she’s asking, and then realises what he’d said to her earlier.

“Oh, no, honey. I think ya look beautiful, all the time,” he tells her, his hand on her face. “But I do kinda wanna show ya off…” he pauses, looking for her reaction. “I mean, I want people ta be blown away by ya.”

“Hmmmm.” She nibbles on her lower lip and digs her fingers into his chest hair. “So you meant what you said?”

He frowns. She’d definitely said she wanted him to talk like that to her, and now she seemed to be going back on it. “I’d never force ya ta do anythin’ ya didn’t want, honey. You don’t wanna wear that dress tomorrow, that’s up ta you. I was only playin’ coz ya said ya liked it. I don’t wanna upset ya.”

Tegan leans her head back down on his chest and sighs. She doesn’t know what she wants. She definitely enjoyed herself in the heat of the moment but now she’s scared again that he’s pretending she’s pretty.

“What’s a matter, honey?” Elvis’ voice is low and gentle, and he accompanies the question with patterns traced on her back by his fingertips.

She lets out a long breath that she didn’t realise she’d been holding in.

“You could be with someone much prettier than me. And… and now especially after…” she swallows and tries to collect herself and not cry. “...you… you’re going to find someone else.” Her shoulders shake and she finds herself crying anyway, the intensity of her orgasm and the feeling of closeness she’d shared with Elvis making her suddenly feel vulnerable and afraid.

Elvis’ eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Hang on a minute…” he tips her face back up towards him and sees it streaked with tears. “What makes ya think I want anyone else? Ya think I’m gonna do yer laundry, cook yer dinners and mop yer kitchen floor and then go find someone else? Why would I do that?”

Tegan wipes her face a little. “Well let’s be honest now, you didn’t really successfully make much dinner.”

He pulls her up his body so that their foreheads are pressed together again. “I’ve never even tried ta make a woman dinner before you.”

She looks at him for a moment and then starts to cry again.

“Oh baby,” he wraps both arms around her, holding her close. “What’s wrong?”

“Think you only wanted me because I didn’t care about your dick. And now we’ve had sex you’re just going to leave.”

She tries to roll off him again in embarrassment, but he holds onto her tightly, one hand on the back of her head and the other splayed across her back.

“Tegan bach,” he begins, firmly. “I wanted you before I knew ya didn’t care about it, and after I knew, and I still want ya now, more than ever. It’s not like ya magically fixed me and now I’m on my way to fuck a bunch of supermodels. We’ve got somethin’ special here. Don’tcha think?”

“Y-yes. That’s why I’m a-afraid to l-lose it,” she sniffs.

He kisses her gently on the mouth. “I’m sorry I ran away from ya so many times before, an’ fucked this up so many times, an’ ya had to wait fer me ta grow up and realise what I’ve got here. But I’m not goin’ anywhere now. I promise.”

She sniffs again and nods, although she’s still afraid.

“Let’s dry these tears on this pretty little face, hm? See if ya can gimme a smile.” She moves so he can wipe the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He kisses the end of her nose, making her smile slightly.

“I went ta the store earlier,” he pauses for a minute to reflect and then changes his sentence. “Well, that’s not exactly true. Mary went ta the store fer me, an’ I asked her ta get ingredients for cottage pie.”

“Oh did you?” Tegan is smiling a little more now. “And what are you planning on doing with those then?”

“I was plannin’ on makin’ my Queenie dinner.”

“Well that sounds nice.”

She can almost see him thinking, like he desperately wants to ask her to help him, so it doesn’t end up burnt with lumpy mash, but he also really wants to save face. She decides to put him out of his misery.

“Do you want a glamorous assistant?”

He breathes a sigh of relief at her suggestion. “Fuck yes.”

They both giggle together again and Elvis looks at her lovingly. How she could think he’d want anyone else is beyond him, but he thinks he’ll have to keep showing her how much she means to him. He sits up and looks around for his clothes. The first step of that is making her an edible dinner.

***

Part 8

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis presely smut #elvis imagine #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis presley x oc #bde #big daddy elvis #old man elvis

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carlottawllms · 1 year ago

Text

Forbidden Taste

Mason Mount x Reader Fluff / Angst-ish / Smut

I was close to deleting all of this bc I’m not really happy with it. I had this great story in my head and the fact that it sounded so perfect was probably the biggest problem bc no matter what I tried, it never came out the way I wanted it to.

But since I haven’t posted in what feels like forever, I’ve decided to still post it for you. I've made peace with the fic rn and I really hope it’s not as bad as I think it is and you can still enjoy reading it.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated! Enjoy 🩷

“It’s so nice to have you with us, y/n.”, Debbie smiled when she pulled you into her side a little. “I feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever.”

“Yeah, it was a lot easier when he was still in London.”, you sighed, your heart hurting a little at the reminder of having to leave your best friend in only a little more than a day. “But I’m glad I could finally make it up here, watch him play and see you again.”

Literally everything had been easier before Mason’s move to Manchester. Life had been easier with your best friend around.

You’d met Mase quite early in life through your older brother Ben and it hadn’t taken long for the two of you to become what Ben liked to call besties. You and Mason had been attached at the hip ever since, never separated unless it was absolutely necessary. “Little-Mount and little-Chilwell causing chaos in the world.”, your mum had used to say with a smile on her face and although Ben had hated it sometimes, he was mainly incredibly happy there was someone else looking out for his little sister.

And then this summer, one of the worst things had happened: He’d left Chelsea and moved up North and as happy as you were for him to have found a club that appreciated and wanted him, you couldn’t help but feel absolutely heartbroken to be so far away from him.

Especially as now, juggling watching him play without abandoning Ben and the other way around had become an every week struggle. And you hated it.

“He knows it’s not easy and he’d never hold it against you.”, Lewis, who just passed you mentioned, making you nod. He was right and you knew it, but it didn’t make you feel less bad.

Mason was special to you. And you missed him. A lot.

You and Debbie kept talking for a while until Mason came over. He handed his mother the menu from that Italian he’d found a few days ago, before he turned to you. You having already raised your eyebrow made him chuckle.

“I know you offered to cook, but as much as I would love it, I just want you to spend time with us and not in the kitchen.”, he smiled softly as he sneaked his arm over your shoulders, the tips of his fingers just about caressing your collarbone.

“Fine.”, you grumbled jokingly. “But next time you’ll let me cook for you, Mister.”

Mason dropped a barely-there kiss to the top of your head before burying his nose in your hair. “I promise.”, he mumbled, unaware of his mother’s fond expression at the sight of her son and his best friend.

It was undeniable that there was something between the two of you. The bond had always been close but over the last year or so something else had developed. There was this tension surrounding you two whenever you were alone or at least close to each other and you both knew it.

You’d both become incredibly attracted to one another, basically longing for something more than a friendship, but because it was practically impossible as Ben would most likely have Mason’s head for seducing his little sister, you’d subconsciously settled on a friendship.

It didn’t mean that it was easy though. Both of you were quite big on touch, meaning that cuddling, forehead and cheek kisses as well as his hand on your thigh or the small of your back weren’t rare occurrences.

You sought out each other’s proximity whenever it was possible and lately, the moments in which only a phone or someone calling for either of you kept you from actually kissing occurred more and more frequently.

Maybe it was a good thing, to avoid the basically pre-programmed quarrel with Ben, but your heart longed for him a little more with every passing opportunity.

“I’ll ask Tony to order. y/n, what do you want?” Debbie interrupted your train of thoughts, attempting to hand you the menu, but Mason was quick in snatching it away.

“Oh, she’s not allowed to choose, mum. I’ve done that already.”, Mason grinned, causing his mother to frown, but when you simply smiled and nodded, she let it go. “The list is in the kitchen; you can put yours on there too and ask Lew if he’s finally picked something.”

Him ordering for you was only one of the many insiders you and Mason shared. You couldn’t even remember when it had happened for the first time, but at some point you had known each other well enough to be able to order for the other, so whenever Mason had found a new restaurant, he got to choose your first meal there, whilst with a place you’d found you got the first choice for him.

“We’ll eat outside since the weather is still nice, but knowing your freezing ass, you should probably go and grab yourself something warmer to wear.”, Mason grinned as he tapped the end of your nose.

“About that”, you mumbled, feeling how your cheeks heated up. “I forgot to bring a hoodie.”

“You out of all people forgot a hoodie?”, Mason laughed in disbelief. “You live in those, y/n. Are you sick?”

Giggling, you ducked away when he tried to press his hand flat to your forehead to check your temperature. “Go away, Mount.”, you moaned in fake annoyance. “I overslept and it was a faff to even get my train. When I ran out of the flat, I accidentally left it on the sofa.”

Mason sighed before grabbing your arm and pulling you along and up the stairs. “You can have one of mine then. As an exception.”

An exception…as if you hadn’t worn his stuff hundreds of times already.

You knew he probably thought you’d forgotten it on purpose, but eventhough you loved wearing his clothes, you hadn’t lied. You truly had forgotten yours at home.

It didn’t take you long to make your choice, eyes already settled on your favourite the second you entered his walk-in-closet. You’d fallen in love with it when you’d helped Mason film his very first TikTok and had worn it for several occasions already.

“Do I even need to ask which one you want, or should I just grab the one I know you’ll go for?”

For a moment you were willing to take another one out of sheer pettiness, but the memory of how fluffy on the inside the one you loved was, was too tempting, so you simply pushed past him, bumping him with your hip in the process as you walked over and pulled the hoodie out.

“I’ve bought a new one by the way.”, he informed you whilst watching you struggle with pulling the fabric over your head. “I think you’ll really like it.”

“Stop talking and help me, Mount.”, you grumbled as for some reason you couldn’t figure out how to put it on. There was just too much fabric.

“Sorry, sorry.”, he laughed, before coming for your rescue. He turned the hoodie a little, helping you put your arms through and eventually pulled it over your head properly. “It just looked too funny.”

Your hair was all over the place as he looked at you, soft brown eyes locked on yours and only when his warm breath fanned your face did you realise just how close he was. All the tiny freckles, the moles and the crinkles by his eyes were right in front of you and the way his chocolate eyes stared back into yours had a shiver running down your spine.

With his fingers gently stroking down the sides of your neck, Mason leaned in and nuzzled his nose against yours and when his eyes dropped to your lips, your mind went blank. Slowly, you leaned in. Your heart was racing in your chest, threatening to burst your ribcage, but from where you’d placed your hands flat against his toned chest you could tell that his wasn’t doing much better.

When his lips just about brushed yours, you closed your eyes, ready to finally give in to what your heart had been begging for forever. Mason’s warm hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer and-

“Mase? y/n? The food is here.”

At the sound of Debbie's voice, you both startled apart, taking a step or two back from each other with your gazes cast to the floor. Your heart sank in your chest as yet another moment had passed and when you raised your gaze you could see Mason scratching the back of his head awkwardly. His cheeks were flushed, and he couldn’t meet your eyes, looking everywhere but at you.

“We erm…we should go downstairs.”, you mumbled.

“Yeah, I guess we should.”, you agreed quietly, trying to hide the sadness as best as you could. What if this was the universe telling you that you and Mase weren’t meant to be?

Once back downstairs, being around his family helped to get rid of the awkward tension between the two of you and the moment you sat down on the dinner table on Mason’s terrace, you and he were back to normal, joking around like you always were and all thoughts of the almost-kiss buried where all the other similar moments were stored as well.

“Water?”, he asked, sending you a soft smile and when you nodded, he reached for your glass to pour some in.

“Thanks.”

For a while you just sat there and listened to what the others were talking about. After that moment upstairs, after his lips had brushed yours ever so softly, you couldn’t think straight anymore. You’d been given a tiny taste and now you wanted more.

You looked up when you felt Mason’s foot nudging yours, thinking he wanted something, but he simply smiled at you and locked his feet around your ankle.

“y/n, by the way, how is university treating you?”, Lewis asked, pulling your attention away from his little brother. The way he was speaking with his mouth full of pasta earned him a warning look from his mother, but he was a master in ignoring that.

“Good.”, you nodded. “But I’m glad I’m nearly done. Just adding the finishing touches to my thesis and then I’m all done. Hopefully.”

“Oh, I have no doubts about that, my dear.”, Debbie smiled, and Tony was quick to agree. “You’ll be the world’s best lawyer, y/n.”

You blushed a little, dropping your gaze to the table with a smile. Mason’s family had always been as supportive as your own, making you feel as if you belonged to them as much as you belonged into your own and words couldn’t describe just how special that felt.

“I mean there’s still a long road ahead, but I can’t wait to jump headfirst into work and actually do something other than just reading about it all.”

“I can imagine.”, Tony smiled. “If we ever need a bit of support without actually hiring a lawyer, we can count on you, right?”

“Contract law is not my specialisation.”, you laughed. “But I know the basics, so as long as you don’t heavily rely on me, you can always ask away.”

You all kept talking about everything and nothing for a while, simply enjoying being reunited with each other and once again you noticed how easy everything could be if it wasn’t for you being a Chilwell.

You would be able to be with Mason, the one person who meant so much to you and with whom everything seemed so easy. There would be no awkward talking stage, no first dates where you couldn't really be yourself. His family had long since accepted you as a part of them and even if you'd only overheard by accident, you knew Debbie saw you as the perfect daughter-in-law.

It could be easy. It could be perfect. It could be you and Mason.

“y/n?” You were startled out of your thoughts when Tony nudged you and repeated your name laughingly.

“What? Yeah sorry, I zoned out for a moment. What was the question?”

“I asked what time your train is.”

“Right. 4pm from the main station. Ben promised to pick me up in London.”

Ever since the moment upstairs, Mason had forgotten about Ben altogether. He’d simply enjoyed having you around, looking at you and watching you get along so well with his family. But the mention of his best friend’s name was like someone had emptied a bucket of ice right over his head.

He shouldn’t feel like this; he couldn’t. Dropping his gaze, Mason pulled his feet away from yours. The physical contact suddenly too much.

Your heart dropped at the loss of contact, eyes searching for his, but they remained stoically focussed on the table. You hated how much you liked him, how much you longed for him.

“If that isn’t my least favourite human in the world.”, Ben joked the moment you flopped onto the passenger seat in his car. It was his typical greeting for you and whilst normally you would roll your eyes at him, you couldn’t muster up more than a tired smile.

“Hi. You’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I just- What’s wrong?” Ben turned the car off again, noticing straight away that something was wrong.

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”, you said. “You know how these long train rides are.”

Lying to your brother wasn’t one of the things you particularly enjoyed. In fact, you hated it because you knew he’d be disappointed knowing you felt like you couldn’t talk to him about certain things, but with this one you had you. There was no way you could tell him that you missed Mason already.

“You know I can read you like an open book, right? What’s wrong? Did something happen with Mase? I’ll chop his head off if he hurt you.”

A quiet chuckle left your lips. “You know him, Benji. He would never. I’m just tired.” You sent your brother a smile, hoping to convince him with it and although you were sure it didn’t work, Ben let it go.

“I ordered some pizza for us, but I can eat at mine if you want to be on your own for a bit. You know like, charge your social battery?”

He tried to hide it, but you could still make out the slightly sad tone in his voice and as much as you’d love to be alone for a bit after being constantly surrounded by people those last days, you’d never send your own brother away.

“Nonsense, Ben. We’ll eat at my place.”

During the 30-minute drive home, you kept checking your phone, but Mason still hadn’t replied to your text. You’d let him know you’d gotten into Ben’s car safely and whilst normally Mason was practically glued to his phone until the moment he received your text, now 20 minutes later, he still hadn’t replied.

You knew it wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe he was just taking a nap, tidying up his flat or had simply forgotten to reply, but it did make you a little sad.

After Ben and you had finished the pizza and caught up with each other’s plans for the week, he’d bid his goodbye and left you getting ready for bed. After sitting in the train for nearly four hours, you were too tired to do your whole skincare and although your skin would probably hate you for it, you only removed your make-up and put some moisturiser on.

You’d just crawled under the covers and made yourself comfortable, ready to watch a bit of Netflix to fall asleep, when your phone lit up.

Subconsciously, a smile pulled at your lips as warmth spread through your whole body. Missing you already. Giggling, you rolled over, hiding your red cheeks in your pillow as giddiness filled your tummy.

You messaged him back to tell him that you missed him too before snuggling back into the sheets and closing your eyes to get some much needed shut-eye.

The next time you got to see Mason was weeks later on Ben’s birthday and you couldn’t be more relieved the moment he hugged you close to his body.

At United, things weren’t going exactly great for him. Deep down you knew he was fine and that going through a rough patch wasn’t the end of the world, but you hated it. You hated that he didn’t get to play much, that he didn’t get the chance to show his talent and shine in the team. And you hated that you couldn’t be there for him properly.

Obviously, you’d stayed in touch throughout the last couple of weeks. You’d talked a lot, facetimed and kept each other updated on what’s been going on.

Mason was fine, working hard and fighting for his place in the starting xi, but you couldn’t help and squeeze him a little tighter before letting go.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Mase flicked your nose jokingly the moment you’d stepped back from him and when he held his hand out, you realised. You’d forgotten your signature handshake.

Mason and you giggled through it, not being able to stay serious at the sequence of funny hand movements and when he eventually finished it with a bow and kiss to the back of your hand, you both laughed out loud.

“I’m still wondering what’s wrong with you two.”, Ben shook his head, but the smile on his face was visible for everyone.

“You’re just jealous mate.” Mason punched his best friend’s shoulder before pulling you into his side to get something to drink.

But it wasn’t long before you were separated. His friends and former teammates hadn’t seen him in forever and wanted to catch up with him and as much as you would’ve loved to spend the whole evening with Mason, you knew he was dying to talk to them in person.

You were giggling away with Sophie as you clinked your glasses together. Neither of you were even close to being drunk, but you’d had enough to be a bit buzzed and for everything to be that little bit funnier.

When Ben had introduced Sophie as your girlfriend to you about a year ago, you’d been a bit hesitant. He hadn't had much luck with his ex-girlfriends, instead he’d been through hell and back at times, so naturally you questioned her intentions, but it hadn’t taken her long to get you on her side.

She was good for him, supportive and incredibly understanding. She’d struggled with mental health too, so she knew what it meant and understood him in a way no one else did. She had his back and made him happy. She cared for him and that really was everything you needed to know.

Whilst the two of you stood there, gossiping a little about your brother’s friends, your gaze kept wandering to Mason. You knew it was wrong, but every time your eyes caught his over the distance, your stomach fluttered, and you couldn’t help but get addicted to the feeling that arose whenever your eyes locked and he smiled softly.

You blushed when it happened again, your gaze dropping to the ground. It felt like your little secret as by some miracle neither Sophie, nor Woody who was talking to Mason had caught onto it yet.

“I’ll erm head to the loo real quick.”

The feeling of Mason’s eyes on you as you made your way through the room had the butterflies going wild in your tummy. He probably thought you were heading towards him, but he just happened to stand right next to the hallway that led to the loo.

You grazed your hand against his as you passed him, your heart pathetically skipped a beat at the tiny contact, and you had to drop your head slightly to hide your blushed cheeks.

Once you’d finished in the bathroom – you’d taken a bit longer as you’d had to fix your hair a little – you returned to the living room, finding everyone gathered around Ben’s dinner table. Confused, you looked Sophie, but she actually found you first.

“There you are! We were looking for you.”, she grinned. “You’re teamed up with Mase.”

With furrowed brows you looked at her. “Teamed up for what?”

“Oh, apparently there’s several games planned, I don’t know drinking games or something, like quizzes and stuff and I teamed you up with Mase.”, Sophie winked, reminding you of that feeling you’d been having for a while now: She was playing cupid and tried to get you and Mason together.

You weren’t entirely sure, but throughout the last couple of weeks if not months, she’d made small comments about how well you and him got along or about how last time Mason was over at Ben’s, he’d talked quite a lot about you and whilst it made you a little giddy that she apparently was very in favour of a potential relationship, you knew it was impossible. Ben wouldn’t have it at all.

“Drinking games? What are we, 14?”

“Don’t be a party pooper, it’ll be fun.”, Sophie laughed before pulling you along to where Mason was leaning against a wall. “Here you have your partner in crime.”

Mason laughed quietly, agreeing internally that you were indeed his partner in crime, before pulling you into his side a little. “I’m glad it’s you cause now I know that at least one in this team has the brains for what’s to come.”

“You’re pretty intelligent yourself, Mase. And I feel like your pretty face makes up for the lack of knowledge in some areas, if you ask me.”

The questions started off rather easy, but you knew it wouldn’t stay that way for too long. There was no fun in everyone getting all the answers right when there were body shots and other punishments for whenever a wrong answer was given.

“Mase, what’s the smallest mammal in the world?”, Ben asked, a proud grin on his face as there was no way his best friend would know the answer to this question.

Panicking, Mason turned his head to you in hopes you could give him a little hint, but you only shrugged as you didn’t know the answer either. Or rather you weren’t entirely sure you knew.

“No clue, mate.”, he laughed. “A squirrel maybe?”

“Wrooooong.”, Ben grinned, hitting the red buzzer he’d bought for today and everyone cheered excitedly for what was about to come. “Time for the punishment. Either you or y/n have to lay down here on the table and let the other take a bodyshot off your body.”

If his cheeks hadn’t been slightly red from the alcohol already, they definitely would’ve been flushed by now. Bodyshots hadn’t been on his agenda for the evening…and definitely not when they included you.

“I can go for it.”, you offered with a smile as you stepped closer to the table.

You knew Mason wasn’t one of those guys who liked to show off and get shirtless more often than not and with so many people – especially women – around, you were sure he’d feel uncomfortable.

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll lay down, you take the shot. I’ve had enough for now.” He gently pushed past you, manoeuvring you towards the side of the table as he hoped the others would buy his excuse. He hadn’t even had that much to drink, but he desperately didn’t want you to be the one to lay down.

As much as he disliked the idea of getting shirtless randomly on a birthday party, the thought of you only in your bra for everyone on show was way worse. There was no way all the other men would get to see you half-naked.

You knew there was no point in arguing with him. Once Mase had made up his mind, there was no going back so instead you watched him taking off his shirt, revealing that toned body of his that, no matter how often you’d seen it already, still had the breath catching in the back of your throat. The way his muscles danced under his smooth skin made you want to reach out and touch him all over.

Especially that tiny mole you’d only recently noticed.

Mason hoisted himself on the table and it was only then that you snapped out of your thoughts and noticed the women in the room ogling him, causing your tummy to drop.

You had no right to be jealous, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. He looked like he’d been crafted by the gods and whilst you knew it was impossible, you just really wanted him to be yours and only yours.

Once he was on his back, his hands by his side, he turned his head and looked for you. His big brown eyes locked on yours and to your surprise he looked a little hesitant. “Relax, it’s just me.”, you whispered before placing the slice of lime right between his lips.

Mason’s eyes squeezed shut adorably for a moment when the sour liquid touched his lips and when a soft giggle left your lips, you felt him squeezing your arm gently.

The little crowd around you whistled when you placed your hand on your thigh and leaned down, but all you could focus on was the way he felt the moment you licked a stripe through the valley of his abs. His muscles contracted where your tongue touched to wet his skin and when you got back up to sprinkle the salt over the wetness, it was way too soon to part.

The second the tequila dropped into his navel, Mason’s whole body shivered. Squeezing his thigh, you smiled at him softly. “You’re ready?”

You noticed how his eyes were a little darker when they locked back on yours, but he was quick in nodding. “Go ahead.”

Just like before, you leaned down and licked the salt from his skin, fingers digging into his thigh a little as you were slowly becoming addicted to what he felt like. Gently, your lips brushed his skin before you quickly sucked the tequila out of his navel and as you moved up the side of his body, ready to take the lime, your hand trailed up his stomach, causing goosebumps to erupt all over his skin.

With your back shielding you both, you dipped down. You stared into his dark eyes, filled with something you couldn’t quite place and when your teeth dug into the lime and your lips just about brushed his, your heart stumbled in your chest.

It had only been the tiniest of touches, but it had been enough to set your whole body on fire an from the way Mason looked, flushed cheeks, his lips still slightly parted and a clouded expression in his eyes, you could tell that he felt it too.

You wanted to let go of the lime and lean back down to kiss him properly, but you knew you couldn’t. The whole situation had already been going on for far too long to be considered normal and you were conscious about your brother watching, so you came back up and sucked the juice from the lime in front of the others. You were convinced your face was as red as a tomato, but with the tequila in your system maybe the others would blame it on that.

As the party kept going, pretty much all you were busy with was staring at Mason. Ever since the moment your lips had touched his, the addiction you’d always felt towards him had increased tenfold and he seemed to look even better now.

You wondered if his white t-shirt had already hugged his body that perfectly when you’d arrived and whenever he wet his lips you couldn’t help but focus on his mouth.

“Earth to y/n?” Ben snipping his fingers right in front of you brought you back into reality.

“Sorry. What?”

“Are you okay?”, he looked at you with his perfected caring-big-brother look, head slightly tilted and eyebrows furrowed.

“Just tired.”, you smiled reassuringly. “I think I’ll actually leave now to get some shut eye.”

“But you’re not going on your own, y/n.”

You were tempted to roll your eyes, but you knew he only meant well. Being outside on your own really wasn’t the safest thing to do, but you only lived about 10 minutes away, so you didn’t see the harm in walking home or taking an Uber. “I’m a big girl, Ben.”

“No, y/n. I won’t have you leaving on your own. It’s too da-“

“I’ll make sure she gets home safely, okay? I’m leaving now, and I pass her apartment on the way to the hotel anyway.”, Mason explained as he suddenly appeared next to you, his fingers gently tickling the small of your back.

You weren’t entirely sure if it was a good idea for him to bring you home. This newfound deep attraction towards him was worrying you and with the alcohol in your system you weren’t sure you could hold yourself back. You could still feel his lips brushing yours, his skin beneath yours and the way his muscles had contracted because of the way you’d touched him.

He’d been so close; so within reach, but at the same time so far away and it made your head spin. You weren’t even sure if he felt the same for you or if it had only ever been in the spur of the moment.

Once you’d both bid your goodbyes and left Ben’s house, silence settled over you. The atmosphere between the two of you was a little awkward – at least it felt like that for you. Mason was uncharacteristically quiet, and you didn’t really know what to say. The whole bodyshot situation had obviously created a strange tension and you hated the thought of having ruined a perfectly good friendship with a stupid drinking game.

What if he felt weird about you now? You’d practically taken advantage of the way he’d been lying there with no where to go. What if all the other situations before today had only ever seemed obvious to you? What if he’d always found it weird?

Little did you know though, that Mason was still thinking about where you’d touched his skin. The feeling of your tongue licking the salt off his tummy was etched into his brain, but the moment that had left a long-lasting impression was your lips brushing his for the tiniest moment. He’d wanted to kiss you forever and now that he’d had a tiny taste, he wanted more. He wanted you.

Mason felt stupid. Who the hell fell in love with their best friend’s little sister?

Thankfully, it wasn’t long until you were back to normal though, joking around and talking about everything and nothing and you couldn’t explain just how relieved you were. Mason was one of the most important people in your life and losing him sounded like your worst nightmare.

Too soon for your liking, you reached your house. Mason, claiming he could use a little workout, took the stairs to the third floor with you and once you were in front of your door, you realised you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet.

“Do you want to come in?”

When your eyes locked on his you could see the whirlwind of emotions in them, so it didn’t come as a surprise when he shook his head no.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, y/n.”, he whispered, gaze dropping to his shoes.

You hated what today had caused. This hesitation to spend time together had never been there before and the thought of him going back to Manchester and distancing himself even more was terrifying you.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”, you nodded as you tried to hide your sadness. “Night Mase.”

Quickly, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. It was something you always did when saying goodbye to him, but tonight it felt different. More intimate, more meaningful.

Mason stood there, rooted to the spot. The cogs in his head were turning like crazy, but after a split second, he reached out and grabbed your arm to hold you back. Turning around, you were about to ask what he wanted, but before you could even open your mouth, his lips were on yours.

Too surprised, you couldn’t even reciprocate the kiss and when Mason noticed, he was quick in pulling back, lips parted and eyes searching yours frantically. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have don’t that, y/n. I’m just-“

But you just shut him up by pressing your lips to his again. Your hand moved to the back of his neck, fingertips just about reaching into his soft hair, whilst the other found a home on his shoulder and once Mason had realised what was happening, he kissed you back deeply.

It was a desperate kiss. One that the both of you had been craving forever and with his lips moving against yours passionately, he walked you backwards into your flat until you were trapped in between his heavy body and the wall.

You sighed against his lips, as he deepened the kiss, his fingers sneaking beneath your shirt and digging softly into your flesh and when he gently buried his teeth into your bottom lip, a hoarse moan of his name tumbled from your lips.

Mason was quick in using the chance to invade your mouth and the moment he brushed his tongue against yours with langued, lazy strokes you lost all capacity to think straight. All you could focus on was the way he kissed you and touched you. He was an insanely good kisser, better than in your wildest dreams and whilst deep down you knew this was wrong and could ruin everything, it all felt so right.

“We shouldn’t do this.”, you breathed heavily against his lips the moment he pulled away to catch his breath, but contrary to your words, you pulled his shirt up and over his head, desperately to see his naked upper body from up close and once the shirt was out of the way, your fingers trailed all over his soft skin.

“I know.” His brown eyes were blown out, clouded and dark when they locked on yours, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “But it feels so fucking good to kiss you, y/n.”

“It does.”

“Jump.” His warm hands had now fully grabbed your hips and when you obeyed and jumped, legs wrapping around his waist, his hands moved to cup your bum and pull you flush against his body. You could feel his crotch pressing right against yours and when you felt how hard he was, you blushed deeply. “I’ve waited way too long for this to stop now.”

His lips were back on yours in an instant, moving against yours as he walked the two of you further into your flat until he sat down on the sofa, with you still in his lap and you didn’t waste a second to grind down.

“Jesus, y/n.”, he moaned into your mouth, hands tightening on your waist to stop you from moving for a second. “Are you sure about this? We’ve both had some alcohol and once we’ve done this, we can’t undo it.”

“I know.”, you smiled before leaning in and kissing him softly. The expression in his eyes was serious now and your heart warmed at the way he was so mindful. “But I want this, Mase. I promise, I want you. Just like you want me.”

When you dipped your hand in between your bodies and cupped his dick over the fabric of his pants, Mason’s eyes darkened. “Feels so good.”, he moaned quietly the more pressure you applied and once his eyes had fallen shut, you leaned in and let you lips travel along his jaw, leaving tiny kisses and nibbled all over his soft skin. You relished in the way he sighed and moaned quietly as you continued to palm him.

“Will you let me make you feel good, Masey?” The quiet whisper had him shuddering beneath you and with a deep sigh he nodded. It already felt like heaven on earth, and he couldn’t wait to feel you without the barrier of his trousers.

You dropped to your knees in between his parted legs, hands moving up and down his thick thighs until you eventually unbuckled his belt and opened the zipper. Mason helped you by lifting his hips and soon enough, his pants were off. Your mouth watered at the sight of the visible tent in his boxers and whilst you really couldn’t wait to have him in your mouth and hear more of his whimpers and moans, you wanted to spend a bit more time on teasing him.

With your eyes locked on his, your nails gently scratched the insides of his thighs, causing Mason to shiver. “Don’t tease, please.”

“But you look so good like this, Mase.”, you pouted, before placing your lips on his skin and making your way higher up. His thighs tensed under your touch, causing naughty thoughts to run through your mind, but right now it was about him, not you.

“What do you want me to do, hm?” You gently bit the skin right where his boxers ended, pulling a small hiss from Mason. “What is it you want, Masey?”

“I…I want you to- Fuck!”, he groaned when you started to palm him over his boxers. With his head falling to the back of the sofa, he had to take a few deep breaths to calm down, but your fingers squeezing his length made it difficult to think. “I want you to…to…”

Mason had never been in the position where he had to voice what he so desperately wanted. Quite the opposite, as until today he’d always been the one being in control and asking that question and now that the roles were reserved, he suddenly got very shy.

With reddened cheeks, he dropped his eyes to his tummy, wishing he could be more confident, but you were hot, currently between his thighs and this whole thing started to make him incredibly nervous.

“Mase.”, you whispered, reaching out to grab his chin and tilt his head up. “We can stop whenever you want to.”

“No, I…I don’t want to stop. Sorry, I just got a bit overwhelmed.”, he confessed. Gently cupping your hand in his lap that had stopped palming him the moment you’d realised something was wrong, he moved it for you, encouraging you to keep going. “Please keep going.”

“Okay.”, you breathed as you applied a little more pressure on his restrained cock, eyes never leaving his and only when you saw the clouded expression coming back, did you lean down to press kisses all over his length.

Mason’s breath hitched in the back of his throat the moment your teeth grazed his fabric-covered dick, and you couldn’t hide your proud grin. He was moaning like this because of you, and you couldn’t wait to make him feel even better.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and once Mason got the hint, he lifted his hips again to allow you pulling the fabric down his legs, causing his hard dick to slap against his tummy. Palming him before had given you a good hint at what you were working with but now that he was fully exposed, you realised that he was bigger than you’d expected.

He felt hot and heavy in your hand as you grabbed him and when you gave him a few gentle pumps, Mason’s head dropped back onto the sofa with a deep sigh. His hips bucked up almost immediately as it had been a while ever since he’d been touched like this and when your thumb brushed through his slit to spread his pre-cum, he cursed loudly.

“Oh my god.” His heart was thundering in his chest, and he could already feel the tingling at the base of his spine. “Don’t tease, y/n. I…It feels so good already.”

Your cheeks heated up slightly at the way a very few of your touches had such an effect on him. He looked so insanely hot. His lips were slightly parted, his chest heaving and abs contracting from the way you were stroking him.

“Holy shit!” Mason’s eyes shot open the second he felt you sucking his tip. His stomach tightened at the warm feeling of your lips wrapped around his dick and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid cumming on the spot. “Fuck, y/n. What the hell.”

“Sorry.”, you grinned as you’d pulled away, knowing fully well what you’d done with surprising him like that. “Just really want to suck your dick, you know?”

“I nearly came.”, he breathed as he threaded his fingers through your hair, subconsciously letting you know you were okay to continue. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that, Masey?”, you smiled before kissing the tip of his dick and taking him back in your mouth. Bobbing up and down, you took as much of him as possible, whilst working the rest with your hand. You’d set a slow pace, knowing that the faster you went the sooner the fun would be over, and you really wanted this to last.

Who knew if you’d ever get another chance of having him like this.

The warmth surrounding his length combined with your tongue massaging the vein on the underside had Mason tightening his fingers in your hair. Breathy moans and whimpers were falling from his lips, spurring you on, but the longer you kept going, the more difficult it became for him to hold back from reaching his high and soon enough, he pulled you off his dick.

“You’re way too good at that.”, he panted with his hands framing your face. Gently, he brushed his thumbs over the soft skin right beneath your wild eyes. “Come back up here.”

Mason helped you back up on your feet and pulled you into his lap, hands immediately settling on your waist beneath your shirt, stoking up and down your sides as he leaned in to kiss you again. Softly this time, less rushed and hungry than before, but still passionate and as if he’d been waiting for this moment forever.

You sighed against his lips as you felt his big hands cupping your boobs, thumbs brushing over your perky nipples poking through the thin lacey material of your bra and it wasn’t long until Mason pulled your bra down enough for your boobs to spill over.

“Take your shirt off.”, he ordered quietly whilst his hands kneaded away on your boobs. “I want to see more of you, y/n.”

You obeyed quickly and pulled your shirt over your head and whilst you expected Mason’s gaze to drop, it never did. His hands spanned the ribs right beneath your chest, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful, y/n.”, he whispered and the honesty in the tone of his voice had you blushing. “You’re the most beautiful and incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

His hands stroked up and down your sides and all over your tummy, leaving goosebumps in their wake and causing small sighs to fall from your lips. It had been a while since someone had touched you like this, had taken their time to caress you in a non-sexual way.

The men you’d been with had only ever been interested in one thing and whilst tonight was going to end in the same way, Mason still took his time to worship you and your body, and it made you fall for him even more.

He held the entirety of your heart and from tonight on also the entirety of your body. He hadn’t done much so far, but you were sure once he had, he would’ve ruined sex for you as no one else would ever come close to this.

You gasped the moment his lips enclosed around your nipple. Your hands flew to the back of his head, fingers gently pulling on the soft strands of hair as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin. Mason skilfully unclasped your bra before flinging it across the room to get it out of the way, making you question for a moment how often he’d done that already, but when his lips sucked your nipple and his fingers ran up and down your spine, your thoughts were back on him and how good he made you feel.

It wasn’t long before he asked you to take off your pants and as you stood there right in front of him in only your lacey panties, he couldn’t help himself. Grabbing your waist, he pulled you back in between his tights, hands stroking up and down your tummy, fingers grazing your boobs until they eventually hooked into the waistband of your panties.

“You’re so so beautiful y/n. I want you to always remember that.”, he whispered with his lips pressing against the skin of your tummy. “You’re so perfect, so soft and I don’t deserve you at all, but I’m so glad I get to see you like this.”

His lips trailed up and down your body until they reached a spot Mason found perfect for the purple bruise, he’d wanted to leave on your body ever since you’d taken off your shirt. Pulling a gasp from your lips, he sucked a hickey into your soft skin, soothing the sting with his tongue and once he was done, he looked up at you with a proud smile grazing his lips.

“These come off now.”, he mumbled, pulling your panties down your legs before making you straddle his lap again. You felt a bit insecure, being fully naked, with your legs on either side of his, now, but Mason was quick in picking up on that. “You’re so hot, I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“Mase.” His name fell from your lips in a hoarse moan the moment you felt his fingers running through your wet folds. Giving him head had turned you on more than you’d thought and with his fingers between your legs now, you were practically dripping for him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, y/n.”, Mason groaned. “All for me? Hm?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer though as his lips were on yours in an instant. The kiss was hot and heavy, tongue immediately invading your mouth and toying with yours, whilst his fingers worked away between your legs. With his middle finger, he continued to stroke through your folds, making the base of your spine tingle, but when his thumb started to draw precise circles on your clit, your body slumped forward slightly as a deep moan got lost in his mouth.

Mason listened intently to the sounds you made, carefully figuring out what you liked and what brought you closer to the edge and once he was fully satisfied with how ready you were, he pushed his finger in.

“Holy shit.”, you cursed, pulling away from his lips momentarily to catch your breath, but with his finger curling deep inside of you, it was more than difficult. He touched all the right places with precision, causing you to see stars for a second. “Mase that’s…fuck..that’s so good.”

“Yeah?”, he breathed proudly, attaching his lips back to your nipple whilst gazing up at your face that contorted in pleasure. His dick twitched at your breathy moans and whimpers and whilst at this point, he couldn’t wait to feel everything of you, he desperately wanted to feel you falling apart on his fingers first.

“You’re close baby? Hm?” When he dipped another finger into your wet heat, he pulled another deep moan from you and in an attempt to push you closer to the edge, he curled his fingers even further against that one spot and pressed his thumb into your clit.

“Gonna be my good girl and cum on my fingers?”

Mason didn’t miss the way your walls squeezed around his fingers that little bit more when he called you his good girl and he made a mental note.

“Yes, Mase.”, you whined. “Please keep going, Mase. I’m so close, I’m-fuck.” With a few more curses and his name continuously falling from your lips, you came around his fingers. White hot liquid shooting through your veins, caused your body to shudder before you eventually collapsed into his chest, head falling into the crook of his neck as you tried to catch your breath, whilst Mason rode you through your high.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, as he gradually slowed the movements of his fingers until he eventually pulled them out completely. You sighed into his neck, not noticing how he smiled at the taste of you as he licked his fingers clean and when Mason wrapped his arms around your body, one hand running up and down your spine in an attempt to calm you, you snuggled further into his chest.

It took you a while to come back to your senses, but when you pulled back and his eyes were on yours, his cheeks as flushed as yours, you leaned in and kissed him softly.

“That was incredible.”, you sighed against his lips and Mason nodded. “But we still have to sort this out, hm?”

Mason shuddered when your hand wrapped around his painfully hard dick. Watching you cum had made him even harder and he couldn’t wait to have you and watch you fall apart on his cock, but he knew that the previous orgasm had wrecked you and that you might need a moment.

“We don’t have to, y/n.”, he mumbled, groaning quietly when you began to stroke him gently. “At least not immediately. We can take a moment in case you need ti-“

“I want you, Mase. I promise I’m okay. I want you.”

“Let’s take it slow, though. Okay?”, he whispered against your lips, before pulling you in for another kiss. “I want this to last, y/n.”

“Okay.”, you smiled.

With one hand on his shoulder, you pushed yourself up onto your knees and lined his dick up with your entrance, but before you could sink down, Mason’s hands on your waist stopped you.

“Look at me please?”, he asked with bright red cheeks. He felt a little stupid for it, but as this might be the only time he got to have you like this, he desperately wanted you to look at him, whilst taking him for the first time.

And with your eyes locked on his, you sank down his length. The both of you moaned at the feeling of one another, his hands squeezing your hips, whilst your fingers dug into his broad shoulders as you took all of him carefully.

His size stretched you deliciously and the slight burning only added to the pleasure running through your veins. He was so big, you could feel him in your tummy once you were fully seated and you actually needed a moment to adjust.

“God, you’re so tight.”, Mason moaned as he dropped his forehead to your chest, trying to think of the unsexiest thing he knew to avoid ending it right then and there. “Squeezing me so tightly, baby. Feels so good.”

You could feel him pulsating inside of you and the way he was panting told you everything you needed to know. He felt as incredible as you.

Once you were both ready to continue, you rolled your hips against his. Gently and carefully at first, but it wasn’t long before you were bouncing up and down in his lap. His hands sat firmly on your hips, guiding your movements and making sure you were both enjoying it, whilst you’d planted yours on his shoulders.

“You feel so good, Mase.”, you whined as he continuously hit that one spot deep inside of you. “You’re so deep.”

“Yeah?”, he panted, a proud grin on his lips. “Can feel me all the way up your tummy, baby?”

Mason moved one of his hands to your stomach, fingers caressing your skin until he flattened his hand and pressed down right when his hips snapped up, causing you to whimper loudly as the delicious ecstasy running through your veins only increased tenfold.

“You’re such a good girl, baby. Taking me so well. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mase.”, you whimpered, squeezing tightly around his dick at the same time. Your high was approaching pathetically quickly because of the way he knew how to hit all of your right spots. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

It wasn’t long until you were nearly there, and the moment Mason attached his thumb to your clit and rubbed it in quick circles, you fell apart on top of him, curse words and his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

Your thighs shook and your fingers squeezed his shoulders so tightly, you were afraid you were hurting him, but with the ecstasy shooting through you as he continued to snap his hips into yours, multiplying your pleasure, you couldn’t really care about that.

“Where…where do you want-“

“Inside of me, Mase.”, you panted. “It’s…it’s safe, I…I promise.”

His fingers dug into your skin and his head fell back, as his hips pushed up one last time before he spilled into your tight heat. “Fuck, fuck, oh my- fuck.”, he cursed, rolling his eyes at the way you gently moved your hips against his to help him ride out his high. “Oh my god, y/n.”

Once you’d both come down from your highs and had caught your breaths, Mason wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you flush into his body, head finding a home on your chest where he could listen to your racing heartbeat.

You could feel him softening inside of you, but neither of you cared enough to pull away. Instead, you threaded your fingers through his soft hair and massaged his scalp, causing Mason to hum in content, whilst his hands caressed your back in soothing motions.

It was the most content you’d felt in forever.

Weeks after this incident, you were back up in Manchester. You and Mason had slept together another handful of times and whilst deep down you both knew it was stupid, given your obvious feelings for one another, you’d agreed to stay best friends and just enjoy the sexual part with each other as well. Friends with benefits. Nothing more.

You tried to convince yourself that it was enough as you got to have him in the way you wanted him every once in a while, but you’d noticed rather quickly, that it was everything but enough for you.

You wanted to be able to kiss him and hold his hand whenever you felt like it. You wanted the public to know that he was taken and that it was you who made him happy. You wanted all those women to stop looking at him as if he was still available.

Women like Tabitha right now. She was hanging off of Mason’s arm, flirting with him shamelessly, whilst you were right next to them.

It was the international break and since Mason hadn’t been called up for England, he’d asked you to take the week off and come up to Manchester to spend some time with him. Going to the bar hadn’t been one of the things you’d imagined you’d be doing, but when Mason had admitted that he wanted you to meet some of his friends, you’d eventually agreed.

Your idea of the evening hadn’t included several women ogling him though and the problem was that the longer your friends with benefits thing was going on, the more jealous you got. Before, you’d never had the right to be jealous at all and whilst now you still hadn’t, the fact you got to kiss him and have him between the sheets, whilst not being allowed to be his outside of your flat or his house, made it even worse.

You were in love with him and a tiny part of you knew he felt the same for you, but he’d never made it that obvious. For all you knew, it could be him using you for sex without any other intentions.

“So, are you going to take me home then?”, Tabitha chirped as she batted her eyelashes at him. Her hand was trailing up and down his arm and whilst you’d noticed how Mason had moved away from her every time she‘d touched him, she apparently hadn’t. Or she simply didn’t care.

“You do realise I’m right here, don’t you?” The words had left your mouth faster than your brain had processed your thoughts and from the way Mason looked at you, he was as surprised as you were. “He could be taken for all you know.”

“Oh honey, no offense, yeah? But he could be with anyone, so why would he go for you? I’m the real option here.” She sent you a fake smile, the disgust in her eyes visible and whilst it did scratch your ego for a moment and had you wondering if Mason thought the same, you were quick in smiling back at her.

Mason was about to step in as he refused having her speaking to you like that, but before he even could, you surprised him again.

“Sorry to pop the bubble, honey, but I know what he tastes like.”

Stunned silence fell over the three of you as the loud music faded into some sort of background noise. Tabitha simply scoffed before turning around and looking for someone else to pay for her drinks and take her home, but Mason didn’t even notice. He was too busy staring at you and trying to calm down his racing heart.

He carefully sneaked his arm around your waist and squeezed you a little. The fact you’d just subtly claimed him and showed a bit of jealousy for the first time, had left him speechless, but at the same time it made him incredibly happy.

“We need to talk to Ben, don’t we?”

After giving it a moment, you nodded. “Yeah, I think we do.”, you whispered before leaning your head against his shoulder. Mason pulled you a little more into his side, happy he could finally hold you like this in public and when he dropped a kiss to the top of your head and you snuggled more into his chest, his heart skipped a beat.

That night you stayed over at his. You shared the bed, but not in a way you normally did. Instead of being tangled in between the sheets, you were cuddled up, shared soft and meaningful kisses and lingering touches. Very little words were exchanged as you traced the hundreds of freckles on his cheeks, ran your fingers through his hair and all over his neck.

Mason hummed softly, squeezing your waist and caressing the warm skin of your tummy until you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning, Mason drove the two of you down to London.

Last night hadn't changed everything, no, this change had already started weeks ago, but the moment in the club had made you realise that you were just fooling yourselves with beating around the bush and it was time to wake up and act like adults. And that meant making a decision. The decision to be honest with yourselves – and Ben.

“Hey, don’t be nervous. He’s your brother, he’ll be okay.”, Mason tried to reassure you gently, but being honest with himself, he was bricking it too. He had no idea how Ben would react as the topic of you and him had never once come up and he doubted Ben suspected anything.

“What if he’ll just shout at us and be super mad? Mase, I’m his little sister and I know how protective he is. I don’t want you two to fight or fall out because of me. You’re best friends.”

Mason squeezed your hand gently, his thumb running over the back of it in calming motions. “We won’t fall out, y/n. Please don’t worry about that. Worst case scenario is he’ll be mad for a couple of days, maybe weeks and then he’ll be back to normal. Okay?”

“Okay.”, you smiled, bringing your joined hands up to kiss his in appreciation.

The journey, which normally felt so terribly long, seemed to have taken only a few seconds today and when Mason stopped his car in front of Ben’s house you weren’t sure you were ready to face him.

“Mase, I don’t think I can do this. What if he’s gonna hate me or worse you? I can’t just go in there and talk to him and-“

Mason gently shut you up with his lips against yours and you almost immediately relaxed into him. Your heart slowed down and when he pulled away and stroked your cheek with his thumb, you smiled at him.

“Thank you.”, you mumbled with blushed cheeks.

“Okay to go in?”

“Yeah.”, you smiled. “Let’s face it.”

With a final kiss you eventually got out of the car and made your way up Ben’s driveway. Your heart was beating out of your chest when you knocked on your brother’s door and you were afraid your knees would give way any second. Maybe Ben wasn’t even home? That way you could avo-

“Oh hi.”, Ben smiled, but the confusion was visible on his features. He definitely hadn’t expected either of you and especially not the two of you together and when he asked you to come in with an unreadable expression on his face, your stomach dropped.

You were terrified.

And as if Mason could read you like an open book, he placed his hand on the small of your back, offering you the most support he could without drawing too much attention to it. Ben flopped down on his sofa, watching you curiously as you stood there, nervously fiddling with the hem of your hoodie.

“It’s erm…Ben there’s a reason why we came here so unexpectedly and it’s erm…a little difficult and I don’t really know how to explain it, I just…it’s complicated and I didn’t mean to…but, well…erm…”, you stumbled over your words. The whole speech you’d memorised during the drive down to London had disappeared, leaving you with an empty head and bright red cheeks.

Mason noticed how you struggled. He knew you wanted to tell Ben yourself, but it seemed as if you needed a bit more support from him to go through with what you’d wanted to say, so he removed his hand from the small of your back and instead grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and giving it an encouraging squeeze.

With one last deep breath, you eventually just blurted it out: “We’re…erm…we’re together.”

You could feel Mason’s surprised gaze on you the second the words had left your mouth, and you knew exactly why. This thing between the two of you? You were yet to put a label on it. Surely, you wanted to give it a go and start dating, but neither of you had ever even mentioned the word relationship. And now you’d simply gone and told your brother you were in a committed relationship.

But as Ben was already up on his feet, Mason simply went with it.

“I would love to say I’m surprised, but truth be told, I’m not.”, Ben laughed as he pulled you into a hug. “I‘ve been suspecting it for months now, to be honest.”

“Months?”, Mason asked incredulously. You hadn’t even been sleeping together for months, let alone talked about liking one another for that long.

“You two are like peas in a pod, never without the other and recently it became more and more obvious. I always knew you liked each other, but I didn't want to interfere.”, Ben explained, causing you and Mason to blush.

The two of you shared an incredulous look, unable to believe that what you’d made out to be such a big deal, had turned out to be the easiest thing in the world.

“So you’re…you’re not mad?”

“Mad? y/n, are you insane?”, Ben laughed. “You two are among the most important people in my life, you are family and I want both of you to be happy.”

He pulled away from the hug as his expression became serious for a moment. “y/n, you’re my little sister and all I’ve ever wanted for you was someone who treats you the way you deserve, someone who I can trust to take care of you and when there’s one person who would drop everything for you, then it’s Mase. He’s done it perfectly as your best friend and I can only imagine how much more protective he’ll be now.”

Mason who’d seen the tears welling up in your eyes reached out and with the gentlest of touches wiped a stray one from your cheek, basically confirming what Ben had just said. He pulled you into his side and kissed your temple before focussing back on his best friend.

“Thanks, Ben.”, he smiled. “I promise I’ll take care of her. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I know, mate.”, Ben nodded. “But I’m also happy for you because after all the shit you’ve been through those last years, you deserve someone who’s by your side unconditionally and who likes you for being you and not for your money or your status or whatever. You deserve someone who has your back all the time, but especially when you’re not there to defend yourself. She’s precious and just like you’d drop everything for her, she’d do the same for you. You both deserve each other, so no, y/n, I’m not mad. I’m incredibly happy.”

You couldn’t believe anything of what had just happened. Your fear that Ben would explode and literally shoot you to the moon didn’t come true. Instead, he was supportive and happy and had basically rooted for you and Mason to get together.

You were lost for words, unsure what you should say other than thank you, but thankfully Ben’s phone ended the situation rather quickly and your brother left you and Mason alone to take that phone call in the kitchen.

“So, we’re together now?”, Mason asked with a cheeky grind once he’d turned you in his arms so he could look you in the eyes.

He watched how an adorable blush painted your cheeks rosy and how you shyly dropped your gaze to his chest, but he was quick in tilting your head back up.

“I erm…I just thought…I don’t know, I just didn’t know what to say and…it’s just happened. Sorry.”, you stammered, unable to explain why you’d stated you were together when really you weren’t or at least hadn’t talked about that yet, but Mason simply laughed.

“So, you’re my girl then? Officially?”

“If that’s what you want?”

“y/n.”, Mason sighed. “I don’t need a talking stage or seven dates to figure out if I want you in that sense because I already know. It’s early days, but at the same time it’s not because we’ve spent so much time together already and I know that I’m in love with you. I’d love to be home to you in the way you’re home to me.”

“You are home to me, Mase.”, you whispered with tears burning behind your eyes. It felt as if you’d finally found your forever, your home, your person. The one man you wanted to spend your whole life with. “I’m in love with you too.”

With his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, Mason dipped down and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, loving kiss.

Later that night, with you sleeping soundly in his arms, Mason couldn’t help but feel as if he was about to explode from all the happiness he felt and although he hadn’t actually talked it through with you, he really wanted to world to know he’d managed to land the best girl in the world.

__________

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