#it gets better by the beginning of february usually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sommerbueckers · 5 months ago

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HI BABY OKAY SO I HAVE A LITTLE ONE SHOT IDEA⁉️⁉️

so basically reader and paige know each other but aren’t exactly close just flirted a few times wtv wtv. so reader goes to a game and she’s wearing the other teams jersey😋😋 after the game paige sees her, they hang out have a few drinks and hookup.. and paige is like “take this shit off” then pulls the other teams jersey off reader

ALSO CAN I BE 🤍 ANON??

yes ofc you can !!

𝐚/𝐧: okay i literally love this idea , and congrats on being my first anon love !

𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

➪ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

THREE DAYS AGO you had been sitting quietly in your apartment, the tv displaying an episode of Gilmore Girls that you, if prompted, could recite word for word. Leftover Chinese food sat cold upon the coffee table, your roommate occasionally returning to her forgotten bowl of beef broccoli.

“What’re you doing this weekend?” her voice abruptly cut through the silence, drowning out the show which could hardly be heard to begin with.

You leaned your elbow against the arm of the couch, shrugging your shoulders. “Probably nothing.”

“Per usual,” she snorted, amused. After reaching to pause the tv, she pulled her legs up under her and twisted around to face you. Her face held a look of mischief and you typically tried to steer away from any kind of conversation with her at this point, but there was nowhere for you to go. “Do you wanna take a little road trip?” she raised her eyebrows, hopefully.

“A road trip?” you repeated, your tone laced with confusion. “It’s the middle of February and you wanna take a road trip?”

Excitedly nodding her head, she scooted closer to you. “You know how i’ve been talking to Noa a lot lately?” She hadn’t even given you a chance to respond before she continued on. “Well her school plays UConn on Friday night and she said she could get me courtside tickets! How sick is that?!”

Courtside tickets to any game would be exciting, but courtside tickets to see UConn Paige play was an entirely different level of excitement.

You had met the basketball star at a penthouse party last summer. It was being hosted by some trust fund NYU student whose parents were out of town. It was said to be ‘select invite only,’ the hierarchy groups of the social food chain would be there along with whoever else they wanted to bring. You originally weren’t supposed to go, but after finding out your name was on the invite list, you and a few friends couldn’t think of any better way to spend the night.

Paige had been wearing a white crop top and a pair of jorts, and she looked far too good not to entertain for the night. All night you two had mingled and flirted, dancing together and taking shot after shot. Nothing came out of it other than another follower on Instagram, but you were just happy to have made the night a good one.

“Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” you admitted quietly. You leaned forward to grab the box of shrimp fried rice, aimlessly picking at it with your fork in an attempt to hide your clear interest in the conversation.

“Pretty cool?” your roommate gaped, “it’s fucking awesome! I finally get to meet her and you get to see Paige play in person.” She was practically bouncing off the walls at this point, her cheeks red from how hard she was smiling. She was biting her lip, no doubt to keep from squealing.

You sucked your teeth unconvincingly, your mind scattered as it tried to provide you with a quick response. “Why would I wanna see Paige?” you frowned, avoiding her eyes.

“Aren’t you guys friends?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well you follow each other on Insta, and you’re always watching her games,” she shrugged innocently, thankfully not picking up on the way your eyes refused to meet hers or the blush that had unknowingly crept onto your face.

“Oh,” you mumbled, “well we aren’t.”

Unfortunately, it was the truth. You and Paige hadn't interacted with each other since the party and you chalked the night up to the two of you just having some drunken fun.

"Oh, so, do you wanna come down or no?"

You weighed your options, though the answer was clear. Stay in your apartment with nothing to do other than binge watch shows by yourself or join your roommate on a trip down to good ol' Storrs, Connecticut. You sighed and leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms.

"When do we leave?"

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

That was how you ended up sitting courtside at a UConn versus Creighton game, a white and blue jersey over your sweatshirt, the number seven displayed on the front. Your roommate had insisted that you both wear Noa’s jersey, that way she felt ‘double the support.’ You didn’t mind despite the fact that you couldn’t name a single player on the team.

The game ended with UConn sweeping Creighton, you had tuned out sometime during the third quarter after accepting the fact that the blue jays wouldn’t be able to come back. You hadn’t even noticed the game was over until the blonde beside you stood up with a groan, throwing her hands in the air.

“That’s it? It’s over just like that?” she turned to you with wide eyes.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Guess so.”

She was beyond upset, you would’ve thought she had been the one on the court. She went on a tangent after the teams disappeared into the locker room, expressing her opinion on why the game should be longer and what Creighton should’ve done. She had no idea what she was talking about, and you knew that, but still listened nonetheless.

“Are we getting something to eat?” you asked when you were sure she was done talking.

“Yeah,” she sighed out, “not sure what Noa wants to do but we can figure it out when she gets out here.”

“Okay, ‘m gonna use the bathroom real quick.” You stood from your seat, brushing off your jersey and heading toward the bathrooms.

Never before had you been to Gampel Pavilion, and curiosity got the best of you as you disregarded the large ‘Restrooms’ sign for a more enticing place. You ambled down one of the corridors, looking at all the pictures and awards that were up on the walls. Pictures of alumni in all the different uniforms through the decades, different championship trophies and plaques.

Your eyes stopped on one picture in particular; it was from the 80s and the men had bright smiles on their faces as they held up a large trophy. Their shorts were incredibly short, and you laughed to yourself as you wondered how they’d ever played in them. Before you could bring your attention away on your own accord, a familiar voice did it for you.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

There stood Paige Bueckers in all her six foot glory, her eyebrows knitted together as she stared at you. For having just played a game, she looked amazing. Her hair was still pulled up in its usual braid and ponytail but it was now partially covered with a gray beanie, she had put on a jacket and sweats over her uniform and looked about ready to slip out without being seen. That’s probably what she was doing.

“Oh sorry, I—I didn’t know,” you shook your head, embarrassed.

“Nah it’s cool, usually it doesn’t matter but they’re tryna clear the place out now,” she explained with a shrug, a keychain jingling from the movement of her bag on her back.

You nodded your head, silently walking past her to make your way back to the gym.

“Wait,” she called out.

You whipped your head around quicker than you should’ve, your face holding a look of innocence as you waited, no, hoped for her to say what you thought she was going to say.

“Don’t I know you?”

‘Yeah, we met last summer,’ was what you would’ve said had you been able to think straight. Instead, you stared at her dumbly until she finally spoke again.

“I think I do, we met at that one kid’s party last year,” she said. Was she trying to remind you? Like anyone would forget meeting Paige Bueckers at a party.

“Yeah, yeah I remember,” you nodded. You rubbed your forehead with a breathless laugh, thinking of what to say next. “That night was pretty blurry to be honest…”

That’s all you could come up with?

It wasn't even the truth either. You remembered everything from that night; every look, every touch.

“No yeah I get what you mean,” she laughed, “don’t even remember how I got home.”

You nodded your head to feign agreement because you knew exactly how you had gotten home.

“Creighton fan, huh?” Paige asked, gesturing to your jersey.

You glanced down, pulling the material away so you could examine it yourself. “No uh, my friend’s girlfriend or — whatever is on the team and we just came down to support her.”

“Ah, so I take it you’re not a UConn fan either?”

You laughed, “I’ve watched a couple games.”

Another lie -- you've watched every game.

“I’ll take it,” Paige smiled. “It was good seeing you again,” she said, beginning to back up. Had you not been so captured by the shade of blue that her eyes held, you would’ve missed the way they'd scanned your body. Running up and down your legs, gently biting her lip. Her eyes once again met yours and she flashed you that signature smirk before she turned around and headed out.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

"This place is fucking packed," Noa commented, surveying the bar with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, i'm gonna go see if I can get us a table."

Your roommate left your side and approached the hostess podium, you and Noa now being alone near the door. She awkwardly rocked back and forth on her feet, hands resting comfortably in her pockets. "Y'all came down here together?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah, got here a little bit before the game actually," you smiled.

Noa hummed, "Hope you aren't driving back tomorrow," she said with a small laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"The couch at the apartment isn't the most comfortable," she sighed, scratching the back of her neck, "so I was just saying you'd probably be better off making blondie drive."

As if on cue, said blondie motioned for the two of you to follow her. "The wait was like forty-five minutes but the bar has the full menu," she said and gestured to three open seats right beside each other. You all gladly took them, sighing as you finally put your feet to rest.

The bartender came around and took your orders and the three of you finally settled in. Conversation came easy, you and Noa bonded over all things basketball. You discussed the calls that were made during the game, how a lot of them were made in favor of UConn because it was their home gym and all. While it hadn't been a complete lie, UConn would've won even without those calls.

You sipped casually on your martini, letting your two friends fall into their own conversation while you busied yourself elsewhere. Your gaze moved from table to table, scouting out someone who could turn your night around from the eventful one it had been. Once again, as though the man above had been listening solely to you, Paige and her teammates waltzed right in.

She had changed out of her basketball uniform, now dressed in a pair of cargos with a long sleeve and a vest.

Instinctively, you straightened up in your chair. They'd seated themselves on the other end of the bar, Paige sitting perfectly in your line of view. You felt like a creep the way you were watching her, but you couldn't help it. There had been a point in time where Paige had been focused on you. Her hands roaming your body as you danced together, her eyes locked on yours only, determined to make you laugh. You smiled unconsciously at the memory of that night, wishing over and over that you could relive it.

When you looked up again Paige was gone, missing from the rest of her group.

"If I didn't know any better, i'd think you were following me," her voice came from close behind you, and you found her standing there with an untouched drink in her hand.

"Well if I remember correctly, I was here first," you smiled, tilting your head. You were hoping you looked cute doing it and not dopey like you had pictured yourself. "So who's really doing the following?"

Paige chuckled, "You got me there." She moved to take the seat beside you, glancing around for a sign that someone was already sitting there. When she didn't find one, she proceeded to get comfortable. You watched contently, sipping your drink with crossed legs and waiting for her to settle. "That's the girlfriend?"

You nodded your head without looking behind you.

"Whatchu got?" you pointed at her glass.

"Dirty Shirley."

"Ah, your favorite."

Paige pursed her lips, a smile threatening to break through. "How'd you know that?" she asked.

"It was all you drank that night," you reminded her.

"Hm," she smirked, "thought you said you didn't remember much."

'Fuck,' you thought to yourself.

"I remember bits and pieces," you shrugged, distracting yourself with your drink.

The blonde playfully narrowed her eyes. She remembered everything from that night, she had only pretended not to because she felt embarrassed that she remembered everything and you didn't. She had visited your Instagram multiple times in the weeks following that, cursing herself for not having the courage to ask you out or do anything other than pointlessly flirt with you.

But here she was, being presented with the opportunity to turn things around, and she planned to take advantage of it.

"So tell me, what else do you remember?"

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

Two martinis and four rounds of shots later, you and Paige found yourselves in an intense game of pool. She was currently beating you, her only objection to sink the eight ball in while you still had a few balls left to knock in.

You leaned over with focused eyes, carefully lining up the stick with the ball. You could feel Paige's presence beside you, her breath hot on your ear as she spoke. "She's crumbling," the blonde teased. She sensed your stress and she was feeding off it, a thrilled expression upon her face. "Will she sink it? Or will she fumble?"

You pulled the stick back, and with a swift movement, jolted it forward. The ball flew quickly across the table, ricocheting off the side and rolling back toward the middle.

"Oh! She shoots, she misses!" Paige commentated enthusiastically, the alcohol running through her system and giving her a buzz. She pointed her finger annoyingly in your face as she backed away, getting closer and closer to her position behind the eight ball. She mimicked the stance you had done; leaning over the table and zeroing in on the ball.

A beat of silence passed and Paige still hadn't moved, her eyes slowly moved upwards to meet yours. A smile broke out onto her lips, she stood up and twirled the stick around in her hands. "How about we make this a little more interesting," she suggested lowly.

"Interesting how?" you snorted, leaning against the table.

She stepped closer to you, towering over you with a gaze that had you practically foaming at the mouth. If Paige wanted to take you on the pool table right at that moment, you would've let her. Of course, that was just the alcohol talking, and there was quite a lot of it.

"I need one shot to win, and I want a reward when I do."

"A reward, huh?" I raised my eyebrows, noticing her step closer, "What kind of reward do you want?"

"I can think of a few things..." she murmured. Paige was trying hard to be seductive right now, and she couldn't tell if it was working or not. She had already failed to hookup with you once last year at the party, and she'd be damned if she failed again.

"Like what?" you took a step closer, batting your eyelashes at her. You were teasing her and she knew it. The alcohol coursing through your system was giving you a confidence boost like no other, and you couldn't think of a better way to make use of it other than flirting with Paige.

"Well for starters," she sighed, pulling gently on the Creighton jersey that you had yet to change out of, "I don't wanna see this anymore tonight."

"Oh yeah?" you quirked a brow at her.

"Yeah, and when I win, i'm gonna take it off you," she said confidently.

You could feel yourself sweating beneath your clothes, the pool stick in your hand suddenly becoming difficult to grip. You cleared your throat when she finally stepped back, a knowing smile tugging at her lips as she repositioned herself on the other side of the table and focused on the ball. With a quick and calculated shot, the ball swiped cleanly across the table before falling into the desired slot.

The noise from the bar seemed to fade away as the realization of Paige's victory sunk in. People drunkenly moved around; dancing, singing, cheering at whatever was playing on tv, but none of that mattered to you anymore. You were unable to focus on anything other than Paige's blue eyes staring into yours, the color seemingly darker than it was just moments ago.

You rolled your eyes and set the stick down on the table, reaching for the hem of the jersey to take it off. Paige's hands quickly found your wrists, her face contorted in utter confusion. "What're you doing?" she asked.

You were playing with her.

"Taking the jersey off, isn't that what you wanted?" you frowned innocently.

Paige scoffed, "Don't test me. Let's go back to mine, you can take it off there."

You both bid your goodbyes to your friends, your roommate tossed you a questioning look that you dismissed with the wave of your hand. You waited impatiently outside for an Uber, Paige holding you close in attempt to shield you from the cold. Her eyes were fixed on your lips, the very ones that were trembling, begging to be warmed up by hers. From the moment she had seen you in the hallway she immediately recognized you, she'd recognize that ass anywhere. She had planned to send you a message tomorrow, running into you tonight had been unexpected but not unwelcome. It just gave her less time to think of what to say.

The car ride back to Paige's house left the two of you bright eyed and rosy cheeked; the radio was switched off and the driver spelled like he had just played in a basketball game and didn't bother to shower afterward. The backseat windows appeared to have a child lock on them, preventing either of you from breathing in fresh air. Between the buzz from all the drinking and toxicity of the car's air, you and Paige couldn't stop yourselves from laughing the whole way there. Her hands didn't leave your legs, but in the midst of all the welcomed chaos you hadn't even noticed.

You rolled out of the car, basking in the cold air with open arms. Paige trailed closely behind you, her hand on the small of your back as the two of you made your way up to her apartment. The second the elevators doors shut and you two were alone, your lips met hers in a searing kiss. She tasted sweet, like Dirty Shirleys and peach CÎROC shots. With your hands tangled in her hair, you pulled her closer, wanting needing to taste more of her.

Her tight grip on your hips, fingertips pressing into you, sent shivers throughout your body. She backed you into the wall, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth while you lowered your guard and let her. So caught up in the taste of you, she almost missed the elevator opening up to her floor. Hardly even breaking the kiss, you two made your way out. Paige knew exactly where to go and you were blindly being led by her, stumbling over your own feet.

Paige fumbled around in her pocket for her keys, roughly jamming them into the lock and pushing the door open. The apartment was dark with the exception of a few city lights pouring in through the windows. Standing in place for a couple seconds longer, you felt the kiss slow down before Paige stopped it completely.

"Fuck," she spoke breathlessly, running a hand through her hair. She reluctantly backed away from you, turning on the lights. With the apartment's kitchen now being fully lit, you could see into the living room as well. The place was beautifully furnished, with little fake plants placed around on the shelves and pictures of Paige and her friends framed up on the walls. Her couch looked far more comfortable than the couch Noa had described earlier and you were dreading having to return to it later tonight.

Paige appeared in front of you, her hands coming up to cup your face. "I want you to go into my bedroom, turn the light on, and then sit down on the bed and wait for me," she instructed lowly. You nodded silently, backing up in the direction of the bedroom while giving Paige the sexiest smile you could muster. In reality, you were absolutely panicking.

Once you got to the bedroom, you switched on the lamp that rested on the bedside table and seated yourself on the edge of the bed. You were unsure of how to sit, or maybe you should try lying down? You decided on taking your shoes and socks off first, neatly dropping them on the side of the bed. You didn't have time to further your thoughts on how to sit because just as you had finished putting your things aside, Paige entered the bedroom and shut the door behind her. She was carrying a bottle of water that she set down on the nightstand, laughing when she noticed you awkwardly staring.

"You look uncomfortable."

"I'm not, just waiting for you," you replied, hoping the shakiness in your voice didn't betray you.

Paige walked over and stood before you, enticingly biting her lip. She leaned down at the same time that you leaned back, a seductive game of cat and mouse as she crawled forward whilst you crawled backward. Your smiles grew when your back hit the headboard and you realized you had nowhere else to go.

"You've been staring at me all night with those eyes," she murmured, and you felt her breath on your lips.

"What eyes?"

Paige rubbed her own nose against yours before she reconnected your lips. She pushed your legs apart with her hands, running them up and down the smooth material of your leggings. You let out a soft moan into her mouth when her knee came in contact with your heated center, bucking your hips in order to feel more of her.

Paige took it upon herself to quicken the pace, instinctively grinding into you. Her lips eventually left yours, trailing down your neck and leaving wet pecks all over. Her teeth bit softly into your skin, marking you as hers. You pressed her further into you, hands snaking under her shirt and roaming all over her back. Her attack on your flesh was violent, the pain pulling a pathetic whimper out of you.

"Fuck, do that again," Paige mumbled against your skin, repeating her actions a little rougher this time to gain a bigger reaction from you.

"Ah, Paige!" you slammed your hand against her shoulder, screwing your eyes shut.

She yanked harshly at the jersey still clinging to your body, "Take this shit off," she spat out. She pushed you down into the mattress, ripping the garment from your body and discarding it somewhere in the room. Your sweatshirt came off next, leaving you clad in only a bra and your leggings. Paige pulled her own shirt over her head, her necklace dangling over your face. You used it to pull her back down into you, hungry for a taste of her again.

Her fingertips crept underneath you and she hooked them onto your bra strap, skillfully unlatching it and pulling it off you. Dilated pupils gazed down at your exposed breasts, her hands hastily coming up to touch them like a child in a toy store. She kneaded, sucked, licked, kissed, her attention focused solely on your hardened nipples, leaving your neglected pussy uncontrollably dripping.

"Paige," you whined desperately, your back arching so far off the bed that Paige's hands forced you back down.

"Hm?" she hummed inattentively.

"I need you..."

A loud popping sound came from Paige letting go of your nipple, holding your stare as she lowered her body closer to where you needed her most. Just as she had hooked her fingers on your bra strap, she hooked them on the waistband of your leggings and slowly pulled them down.

Your panties were downright soaked, earning a mocking laugh from the blonde.

"So wet for me mama," she purred, a smirk on her face.

She took her thumb and ran it straight down your clothed slit. You sucked in a sharp breath, hands already grabbing at the sheets on the bed. To Paige, you looked like an angel lying there, like a good girl with those pleading eyes as you waited to be fucked senseless. Finally, Paige removed your panties and tossed them aside with the rest of your clothes.

She shamelessly played around in your slick, soaking each and every one of her fingers in it.

"Tell me you want it."

"I want it Paige," you breathed out.

Paige's face appeared overtop of you, her jaw clenched tightly in disapproval, "Beg."

You were so turned on you didn't even protest, instead just propped yourself up on your elbows to be closer to her. Her fingers danced around in teasingly slow circles on your clit, a knot gradually forming in your stomach. "Please I want you to fuck me, please baby I need it so bad. Want your fingers inside me," you exhorted pathetically.

Without wasting another second, the blonde inserted two lengthy fingers inside of you. It was like looking into a mirror the way Paige's face copied yours; when you bit your lip, she bit hers, when your mouth involuntarily gaped open, so did hers. She was taunting you, forcing you to see how undone you were becoming. Tightly gripping her bicep, you dug your nails into the large muscle.

Her fingers pumped in and out of you, thumb doing work on your clit to bring you closer to the edge. The squelching noise that filled the room sent heat to your cheeks, and if it wasn't that then it was the look Paige was giving you as she fucked you. She was proud of the mess you were becoming, the mess she was making you. She kissed your lips over and over again even though you couldn't kiss back.

Your head was spinning with thoughts of Paige, the feeling of Paige inside you. Your toes curled involuntarily, noises you had never heard yourself make before echoed off the walls of the room.

"Yes yes yes, i'm close," you cried out, "fuck just like that!"

Paige hurriedly kissed her way back down to your pussy, replacing her thumb with her tongue. She mercilessly sucked you like a starved woman enjoying her first meal, or a guilty one enjoying her last. Her tongue moved nimbly against you, fingers fucking in and out of you and feeling the tightness as you clenched around her.

"You gonna come for me, huh?"

"Uh huh," you fervently nodded.

"Hmm," she hummed into you, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge, "let me hear you say it. I want to hear you say it."

"Yes! I'm gonna come for you..."

Paige expertly curled her fingers inside you, lying her tongue flat against your clit and forcing you to do none other than let go. The knot that had been building in your stomach finally fell apart, your legs snapping shut and trapping Paige's head there. You pushed and pulled at her, your desires becoming fuzzy as the orgasm swallowed you whole. Moans and strings of curse words unconsciously spilled from your lips. They were a stark contrast to the sweet things Paige cooed as she left kisses along your stomach, and your chest, and back up to your lips.

"Such a good girl," she whispered on your lips, "you were so good for me."

You shivered at the empty feeling you got from Paige pulling her fingers out of you, they were covered in the same slick that her chin was, glistening under the lamp's light. You smiled tiredly at her, snaking your arms around her neck and pressing your lips to hers.

"You tired?" she asked, observing your face.

"Yeah."

She pulled away from you and reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, twisting it open and bringing it to your lips. "Sleep here tonight," she said, "I can take you where you need to go in the morning."

Swallowing the water you said, "You sure?"

"Yeah, you probably can't walk after that anyway."

"Shut up," you snorted hitting her chest.

The two of you settled in bed together, your naked body finding warmth against her clothed one as she cuddled you close to her. You smiled to yourself, nuzzling your face in her neck and drifting off to sleep.

#🤍anon #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #wlw post #smut #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #paige buckets #gay as fuck #sommer bueckers #requests

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gretavangroupie · 9 months ago

Text

Edible

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Drugs. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink (if you squint), Cum Play. Major Fluff.

A/N: The very last part of our four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Jake's story to wrap things up! Thank you so much for reading these one shots over the last few weeks, maybe we will do it again soon! ❤️

Usually, Valentine’s day wasn’t a holiday that bothered you. As a single person in your mid 20’s, it’s almost expected that you dread the 14th of February. The years before and between relationships never bothered you, but as you slip into your pajamas at 7:50pm on a Friday night that also happens to be Valentine’s day, the realization that you’re alone hits a little harder.

You shuffle down the stairs in your slippers and matching PJ set, your destination being the bottle of red wine in the fridge. As you stand in front of the door and look at the dry erase calendar on your freezer, you avoid acknowledging the little heart you drew around the number 14 when you were clearly in better spirits. You also happen to see the little sticker that lives permanently above the column of Fridays. Trash day.

Letting your head fall back, you groan at the ceiling before turning on your heel towards the trash can. Lifting the half-full bag out and tying it off, you consider whether or not you really need to take the bin out to the curb… It’s so, so cold, and you’ve had a tough day already.

Shaking your head, you pull yourself out of your thoughts and decide to grow up. You get moving and elbow the door open, wincing as the cold air hits your skin. The short sleeve shirt and matching shorts combination are really not on your side at this moment as you jog down the four stairs towards the spot where your trash bins live.

It’s a minute of wrestling before you get the bag in and flip the top closed, grabbing the handle and beginning to wheel it towards the end of your driveway. The rattling of the plastic wheels is so damn loud you feel like you’re waking up half your neighborhood. Oh, wait. They’re probably all out for Valentine’s day. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you kick the bin upright and position it on the patch of grass near the curb.

As you’re about to turn and head inside, you hear rumbling coming from across the street. When you raise your head and try to focus despite the limited light from the streetlamps and the clouded moon, you see your neighbor from across the street. For a moment you feel a little vulnerable in your pajama set, legs bare and no bra, but then you see he’s shirtless, a thin bathrobe over his shoulders and down his back, but it’s hanging open, giving way to show you his tanned chest and stomach. His sweatpants are hanging sinfully low on his hips, and even though you’re all the way across the street, you can see there’s just a tiny bit of hair peeking out from above his waistband.

He has his head down as he does almost the same exact thing you did- he shimmies the bin into position on the curb and makes sure it’s closed tight, left with some defense against the wind. His hair is in a low, messy bun, some stray strands of hair framing his face.

As you stare at him from the shadows across the street, realizing you’re probably giving off way weirder vibes than intended, you think back on when you’ve seen him and try to remember his face. As you think, there’s a silhouette of a cat in his front window, a warm glow behind it. And then the memory comes to you.

There was one afternoon when you had first moved in, the summer, seven or eight months ago. He came and knocked on your door, a pair of sunglasses on, his shirt unbuttoned and paired with some breezy linen pants. You answered the door in confusion, but were friendly regardless.

“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Jake. I’m your neighbor. I live across the street?” He said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Right, right. Hey. I’m Y/N.” You answered with a slightly concerned smile. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, um,” he started, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger as he gathered his thoughts. You watched as he crossed his arms over his chest in almost a nervous habit.

“Do you wanna come in?” You offered, but he shook his head no, waving you off casually.

“No, no. I actually just have a weird and maybe cumbersome favor to ask of you.” He said, his confidence building as the conversation went on. You raised your eyebrows, a little confused, but wordlessly encouraging him to go on.

“There’s this cat that lives in my house and I usually leave him with my brother’s girl when I travel, but she’s actually tagging along, so I’m kind of in a pinch and need someone to feed the thing.” He said. You gave him a look of playful confusion.

“That’s a weird way to say you have a cat.” You quipped, laughing.

“I’m not keeping it! I just don’t want it to get hungry or get hit by a car or something.” He said, laughing through his words. Before you can poke any more fun at him, he keeps talking.

“He’s a grazer, so he really just needs his big ass bowl refilled once a day and he’ll be fine,” he said, flashing you a little smile. “And water.”

You considered it for a moment, but he had such a way about him that there was no way you would be able to say no.

“Okay. Yeah, sure. For how long?” You asked, leaning on the door frame. He fished out a key from his pocket, handing it over as he spoke. It was brass and there was a little soccer ball keychain attached.

“Just for the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.” He said with a little excitement in his voice. Holding his spare key in your hand, you nodded and gave him a polite smile.

“I can do that. For sure.” You reassured him as he leaned from foot to foot, almost like he had somewhere to be.

“I fed him just now and I’m about to head out, but when you go in, the kitchen is on the left and his bowl is there. The food is in the bin with… with the food. It’s clear so… you can see it.” He said, taking a few steps backwards. “He also bites, but he’ll probably hide from you anyway, so don’t sweat it!” He added, jogging down the two stairs to the sidewalk.

“O-okay!” You answered, perplexed but charmed. He shouted across the road to thank you before he hopped into his car and backed out of his driveway.

When you eventually went over to his house the next day, you opened the door cautiously, not wanting to sneak up on the cat who you were warned would bite you. After a moment of wondering why you agreed to this, you shrugged and pushed the door open gently. As if the cat was waiting for Jake himself but then realized it was you, he went flying by so quickly you only heard the thump of his paws and the jingle of his collar. Your eyes almost immediately found the big bowl in the kitchen, sitting in the middle of a little placemat. ‘DAVY’ was etched into the porcelain, so you figured it had to be his. Like Jake mentioned, there was the bin of food about a foot away.

You didn’t see the cat a single time that weekend. Sunday morning, after you fed him the last time, you left the key on the hook near Jake’s front door and locked it from the inside. You didn’t hear from him, but one day when you got home from work, there was a bottle of wine on your welcome mat with a card underneath, wax sealed with care. Inside, you found a card with a short note of thanks and his name signed in indigo ink.

You’re pulled back to the present as a car flies down your street, headlights flashing in your peripherals. The light pulls his attention too, and it’s seconds before he notices you across the street. He raises one open hand, giving you a casual wave. You smile and wave your hand back and forth, a polite, neighborly greeting.

“Look at you, all dressed up. Big plans tonight?” He says, projecting his voice all the way across the street. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing he’s absolutely calling you out for being outside in your pajamas.

“Oh! Ha. Yeah.” you say, the laugh incredibly forced, your nerves turning you into an awkward, stiff mess. Freezing cold, nervous, and a little embarrassed, you give him another quick wave and scurry inside your house, disappearing. You close the door and snatch the bottle of wine from your fridge, taking the bottle and glass with you into the living room.

You practically dive under the blanket on your sofa and wrap it around you in a hurry. As you reach for the bottle of wine and pour yourself a little glass, you hear your phone buzz from somewhere in the couch cushions. Fishing it out from under your thigh and some layers of blanket, you squint and turn the brightness down immediately.

You have a few notifications from instagram and other apps, and one text from an unsaved number.

???

8:08pm: Sorry for being weird, lol

It has to be Jake. You hop up from the couch and shuffle to the bulletin board and dry-erase calendar on your freezer to see the torn piece of paper pinned to it. Comparing the two numbers, you confirm it’s the same. That leaves you frozen as you try to figure out how to respond.

You

8:10pm: Oh no worries, you were right. I’m clearly staying in tonight 🍷

When you get back to the couch, nuzzling yourself back under your blankets, you look over your shoulder and out the window at his house. There are a few lights on and the cat’s silhouette has disappeared from the window.

You decide to save his number quickly before finally taking a few sips of your wine.

Jake - Neighbor

8:13pm: Likewise. I’m about to take an edible and spend the rest of my romantic evening falling down a youtube wormhole.

Laughing, you think of something clever to send back. It takes a while because everything you come up with seems to be toeing the line of flirty and friendly.

You

8:17pm: Sounds fun... If you open your curtains a little more I could probably watch along. 🙂

Jake - Neighbor

8:20pm: Or you could accompany me down said wormhole, meaning we both won’t have to lie about being alone on Valentine’s day tomorrow?

You’re immediately conflicted. This guy is your neighbor, and although he seems friendly, this feels like the beginning of a terrible Hallmark movie or even worse, one that went straight to Netflix. You think about the invitation as you stare at your glass of wine on the coffee table next to your kindle. It couldn’t hurt to just go hang out for a little while… right? It would be good to get to know him. Maybe you could convince him to mow your lawn over the summer or something.

Not to mention he’s cute. Your mind flashes back to the way he looked glowing under the streetlights, his messy bun and the tan line on his hips that you need to stop thinking about before your mouth begins to water.

You

8:21pm: Lol are you serious? I don’t want to intrude

You bite at your lip nervously, waiting for him to reply. The little bubbles that indicate he’s typing make your stomach churn as you look over your shoulder and out the window once more. There’s a little bit of a glow coming from the other side of his house now and you see his shadow move across the window.

Jake - Neighbor

8:22pm: It’s not intruding if I’m inviting you.

It doesn’t take much convincing on his end, if any. You down the last of your wine for courage and ditch the blanket on the couch. Heading up the stairs, you grab the cardigan you left hanging over the banister and pick out something to wear. The matching jammies clearly aren’t appropriate, but you don’t want to dress like you’re trying too hard.

You

8:25pm: Should I bring anything?

Standing in your closet for a few minutes, you ultimately land on a pair of yoga pants and an old t-shirt, a soft baby blue Rush tee with the band’s name spelled out in big, rainbow bubble letters. It was once your dad’s, but lives in your wardrobe as a slightly cropped version now.

Jake - Neighbor

8:26pm: Nope. Just yourself. Need the address? 😉

Pulling on the cardigan, you tug the back of it down a little to assure you’re not showing up with your ass on display from the get-go. You stand at the door with nothing but your phone and keys, bracing yourself for however this Valentine’s night is about to go.

You

8:28pm: I think I remember how to get there. I’m on my way 🙂

—

You pull your sleeves down over your hands as you climb the steps to his porch, the freezing cold wind whipping through your cardigan as if it wasn’t even there. You rap your knuckles against the wooden door, a small wave of nerves rushing through your body as you wait for him to answer. You hear his footfall against the wooden floors as he makes his way to the door, and as he opens it you feel a rush of warmth as the heat from inside blows past you.

His eyes subconsciously look you over and as he realizes he pulls his eyes away, letting them dart around for a few seconds before landing on your face. He offers a shy grin and swallows down his nerve. “Any trouble finding the place?” he jokes, giving you a small glimpse of his real smile.

“Oh yeah, traffic was awful...” you quip back, watching his full smile bloom across his face.

“Come in, come in. I know it’s cold out there.” he says, ushering you inside. The house is very different from the last time you’d seen it. More art on the walls, a new rug or two, and most importantly there were lights on. A fire is going in the fireplace, the logs crackling drawing you into his home further.

“Your home is beautiful. I’m suddenly insanely jealous that I don't have a fireplace.” you smile, gesturing towards the beautiful brick hearth.

“Thanks, I try to do what I can here and there. What’s a home if you can’t enjoy the time you spend in it…” he ponders, suddenly flicking his attention back to you. “I could…show you around if you want, it’s kind of a mess at the moment…” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his lips as his eyes scan the room. You can tell he is feeling put on the spot and your chest warms at his underlying hospitality.

“That’s okay, I know you were totally not planning on having a guest.” you laugh, hoping to ease his anxiety.

“Yeah, I’m not here too often, and when I am, things kind of get strewn around and forgotten. It’s actually a fluke that I’m here now. Which brings me back to the part about enjoying the house while I’m here.” he says, trying to unnecessarily justify his lived in space.

Your mind wanders as you recall his empty driveway the past few weeks, and you try to piece together if you ever remember him mentioning what he does for work, or why he’s gone so often. You hardly ever see him coming and going, just the glow from his windows on rare occasions.

He pulls you from your thoughts and you refocus on him, realizing that he too, has changed into different clothes. He’s added a slightly wrinkled black button down shirt to a pair of equally as wrinkled khaki pants, rolled at the ankle. To anyone else this would seem like a strange choice to hang out on the couch, but on him it seemed fitting, almost like these were his relaxing clothes.

“Can I get you anything to drink, or?” he asks, gesturing towards the kitchen, a tiny little sliver of his stomach peeking from beneath the frayed hem, showcasing an unseasonably dark tan.

“Sure, um I will take some water?” you squeak out, trying to pretend you weren’t just staring at his waist.

“Okay, you can just… sit wherever. I'll be right back.” he says nodding towards the couch. He walks off into the kitchen as you venture into his living room, the fireplace providing the perfect ambience for such a cold night. His couch isn’t huge, but it does seem comfortable. A few throw pillows are tossed to one side, giving you the hint that he was previously occupying the other side. You move a few of the pillows towards the center and position yourself at the opposite side on the chaise lounge, as you let your eyes glance around the room. The walls are dark and covered with art, and bookshelves line most of the walls. A large TV sits just to the left of the fireplace, the video he was previously watching paused and awaiting his return.

You relax into the couch cushions, closing your eyes and listening to the perfect crackling sound of the fireplace. The glass of wine from earlier is seeping into your bones and you’re suddenly feeling just a little bit more relaxed. Jake returns a few seconds later, offering you a glass filled to the brim with ice water.

“I didn’t know if you wanted ice or not, so I just made it how I like it.” he says, falling back into his place on the couch. He tosses a few of the throw pillows between you, down onto the ground so that there is less of a barrier, before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

“Where’s your little kitty cat?” you ask, turning to face him. “Or did you find him a home after all…”

“Who? Ol’ Davy Jones?” he asks, an air of underlying affection in his tone. “Ahh, that little vagrant is around here somewhere. Truthfully, I just haven’t even had time to think about finding him a home.”

You smile because you can tell he is lying. “That’s funny, because it’s been what? Almost a year now?”

“Has it… Hmmm.” he says, staring off into space. “I’m sure he’ll be around, he’s a curious little thing.”

“You know they say that you shouldn’t name pets that you don’t plan to keep…” you press, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Well…” he pauses. You can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to piece together an excuse. “He wasn’t responding to ‘hey you feline’, so I was practically forced into giving him a name. You know how these things go. I really am going to find him a good home one of these days when I have the time.”

You nod your head with a smile, as he shakes his own head, stifling back a guilty grin.

“So that is why he has a food bowl with his name on it, right?”

“Aye, aye, what’s with the twenty questions, hm?” he barks, tossing a throw pillow towards you. You catch it and hug it to your chest, resettling into your place.

“Oh, no reason. Just trying to get to know my neighbor and his cat, that’s all.” you say with a cheeky smile.

“He’s not my cat. He just lives in my house.” he says finally, feigning arrogance. “Anyways, tell me about you…”

“Not a whole lot to know, I just moved here, well almost a year ago now, for work. I go to work, come home, watch trashy TV and cook, and sometimes on the weekends I catch some friends at the bar. I also occasionally feed my neighbor's cat. Oh, and spend most holidays alone, which is how I ended up here.” you laugh, not wanting to give too much away.

“Well, I’m glad that you did, I’m rather enjoying having company for once. Listen, I was serious about the edible if you…” he trails off, nervously licking over his lips.

“Oh, yeah of course. Let’s do it.”

He stands from the couch, walking across the room and rummaging around in a backpack on the floor. The first thing he pulls out is an eyeglass case, tucking it under his arm. Then he reaches back in, searching for a moment more, before he pulls out a small black bag and returns to the couch, opening it up as he sits. He places the black glasses case on the table, then picks it up again, making sure there are actually glasses inside before closing it and putting it aside for later.

“Oh Jesus, Josh…” he mutters under his breath. He licks his lips and turns to look at you. “Okay, so, apparently they are peach ring gummies. My brother gave them to me, but didn’t specify the variety.”

“That’s actually fine, I love peach rings.” you blush.

“Really? Okay, good. I thought–” he stops himself with a smile. “Okay, ladies first, how much do you want?

“Um, how much are you gonna have?” you ask, letting your eyes flick up to his.

“Dunno…” he says, inspecting the bag for the details. “Okay, probably half. You think you can do half, or do you want a quarter?”

“I think it should be an even playing field, I’ll do half if you do half.” you answer.

“Whatever you say…” he says with a smile, trying to pull apart the sticky yellow and orange gummy. It stretches beyond belief and he stops. “Okay, so. I think you’re going to have to bite it.”

“Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal, you just take half and I’ll take the rest.” he says, leaning over to place it in your hand. You bring it to your lips, biting half of the gummy with your eyes locked on him. He doesn’t dare blink as he watches your mouth, the sugar crystals collecting on your lips. You see him swallow as you pull it from your lips and hand the remainder back to him. He quickly pops it into his mouth and starts to chew.

Both of you look at each other as you swallow it down, sour looks on both of your faces as the flavor of the strain shines through.

“That was… not my favorite gummy I’ve ever had.” he winces, clearing his mouth of the flavor.

“I think it was okay…I’ve definitely had worse.” you laugh, taking a sip from your glass of water.

“I can’t believe I traded my good blunts for that.” he says, thinking back with a shake of his head. “So, what do you think we should watch? A movie? A TV show? Youtube?” he rattles off.

“What would you watch if I wasn’t sitting here right now?” you ask, leaning your body into the arm rest.

His demeanor quickly changes, his cheeks blushing and his tone growing a bit bashful. “If you weren’t here? Um, probably just youtube videos.” he answers, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

“Okay, but what kind of youtube videos? What fascinates you…”

He fidgets with the buttons on the remote, trying to decide if he should lie or be honest. His eyes flick up to the TV, then over to you. “Mostly history stuff, like old shipwrecks and stuff. Or maybe sailing videos or guitar videos, I don’t know.”

You can tell he chose to be honest, his fingers still scratching at the buttons on the remote as he waits to see what you’re going to say.

“Okay so do it. Show me your favorite shipwreck. Enlighten me a little…”

“Really?” he asks, a look of shock painted across his face.

“Yeah, why not? I like that kind of stuff too. It’s interesting.”

“Yeah, yeah it is really interesting. Okay, hold on.” he grins, clicking the remote to life and returning to youtube. He scrolls to his favorites and makes his way through what has to be a hundred videos, until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Alright, I know this is a little bit boring at the beginning, but I swear it gets better. I actually learned about this first hand at this little museum in the UK last year, and I really fixated on it, and had to immediately consume every piece of media I could find about it. If you hate it we can turn it off, it’s just… really cool if you can make it through it.” he explains, and you smile watching his eyes light up talking about it.

You smile and nod as he clicks on the video titled, ‘Ghosts of the Mary Rose’. He settles back into the couch, balancing the remote on his knee, and slinging his arm across the back of the couch. You can’t help but notice the proximity of his fingertips as they rest just inches away from your shoulder. The fireplace is still roaring, and the edible is starting to kick in, and you come to terms with the fact there is no place you’d rather be than sitting here learning about this old boat.

Oddly enough, Jake wasn’t wrong. This was one of the cooler shipwrecks you’d learned about, and the fact that he saw it in person made it even better. He proceeded to talk through most of the video, further extrapolating on the points they were making, but explaining them better, in a way that was so purely Jake.

It was clear history was a passion of his, his eyes simply glowing with pride as he spoke about what he knew about this wreck and others similar. You could tell that he was dying for someone, just anyone, to ask him a single question about it, and tonight, you gave him that and more.

You wondered if he had people in his life that indulged him on this regularly, or if he kept it bottled up inside. The way he spoke about it so quickly, stumbling over his words just to get them out, had you thinking that maybe it was the latter, and you suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him ever feeling lonely.

After what had to be an hour or so, the gummy had met its full potential in your bloodstream. The two of you sat almost mute, staring at the TV screen as he selected videos for you to dive into, but little did he know that it wasn’t the TV you were fixated on. It was the glaring image of his hands as they reflected into the mirror hanging over his fireplace. You watched as they moved, the way his fingers wielded the remote, and the way his fingers would twitch every so often, quickly stifled back by the folding of his hands. You stopped yourself from turning your head to look at them, knowing that if you did you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away.

They seemed large. Slightly larger than the average man’s hands, but they also seemed well manicured. Perfectly manicured actually, as if they were his top priority in his grooming habits. His nails were perfectly trimmed, no nicks or cuts, just perfectly tanned hands that tapped away against his thighs. You pulled your eyes away from the mirror to reach for your water, the dry mouth starting to take effect.

You drank down half of the glass, and you could almost feel his eyes on you as you did so. You placed the glass back down, and allowed yourself one look at him, finding that you were correct in the feeling of his eyes fixed on you. His entire mood had shifted, you could tell he was feeling completely relaxed as he lounged on his couch. His eyes were a little red, slightly droopier than usual, and his cheeks flushed pink. His legs were crossed on the coffee table, and his bare foot bobbed along to the sound of the video playing in the background.

You’re not sure if it's the fireplace, the edible, or the man sitting next to you devouring you with his eyes, but you start to feel warm and need to remove your sweater before you burst into flames. You pull the knitted fabric over your arms, and toss it to the floor, leaving you in just your cut off tee, and you swear you see his eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of your torso.

In the silence, you hear a faint jingling. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do, and your eyes shoot to the entryway. His cat trots into the room, probably only expecting Jake, but as soon as he lays eyes on you, he puffs up and hops straight up into the air, then bolts back the way he came, his paws skittering across the floor in a flurry.

The sound makes Jake’s head turn, pulling his eyes from your body and over towards the source of the noise.

“Oh my god, he’s real…” You say in amazement, a smile creeping onto your lips. Jake rolls his eyes at the cat’s dramatics, leaning back to see if he can catch where he went.

“Daaaavvvyyyy…” he calls out in a faux-cockney accent, his voice low and gravelly, rumbling through the house. You would be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“He’s not a fan of me, I don’t think.” You comment, looking in the direction the tiny black cat ran.

“Don’t think he likes anyone but me, honestly. Bites and scratches the absolute hell out of my brother’s girlfriend whenever she watches him for me.” He says with a chuckle, craning his neck to try and see the cat. He makes a quiet pspspsps sound, but Davy is nowhere to be seen or heard.

“When I found ‘em, he was under a dumpster behind a… a bar.” He says, sitting back up to look at you. “He was practically shouting at me as I walked by, like he was calling for help. So I walked over thinking it was like, a fuckin’ baby or something. I don’t know.”

You grin as he tells the story, which you’re finding quite endearing.

“He called you over? Oh, he’s bold.”

“Sure is. So I wrapped him up in my shirt and put him in the passenger seat… he seemed too little to eat the crunchy little cat food, so I went to the store and got some milk… I didn’t fuckin’ know what to do.” He chuckles and itches his nose, his eyes flicking to yours as he realizes you’re invested in the story and listening with bated breath.

“We got home and he drank some… had a little milk mustache and everything. He seemed to feel better when I got him into the heat, so I made him a deal. He could sleep in the bathroom for the night if he hit the road and left town the next morning.”

“I see that worked out.” You quip, giving him a knowing smile.

“Yeah, the five-pound rapscallion didn’t hold up his end. Owes me a thousand souls now.”

You hum with raised brows as you nod, letting him go on.

“I actually…” he starts, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket he taps and scrolls as he talks. “I actually woke up the next morning and caught the poor thing asleep in a pair of me old dirty trousers.” He says, a little bit of that accent slipping in again. He turns his phone around and shows you a photo of Davy curled into a tiny ball inside a pair of patchwork denim pants, a few different shades of blue.

“Oh my god…” you mumble, popping out your bottom lip.

“Lookit his tail over his nose. How was I supposed to show ‘em the door?” He says, flashing you a grin.

“But you’re still gonna rehome him, huh?” You shoot in his direction, your tone accusatory.

“Should we watch something else? Got any requests?” he asks, gesturing toward the TV with the remote.

“Mmm, you said you liked guitar videos, right? What’s your favorite guitar video of all time?” you ask, crossing your ankles as you stretch out on the chaise.

“That is quite the loaded question, lass.” he quips, tapping the remote to his lips. His full, pink, totally kissable lips. Wait, he’s your neighbor. You have to stop.

“Can you narrow it down to a genre?” he asks, flicking his eyes over to you. He takes a deep breath and bites his lips together waiting for your answer.

“How about…I don’t know, rock? Rock n’ Roll, specifically.” you smirk.

“I know a thing or two.” he chuckles, scrolling through his favorites.

“Ahh, okay this one. This one right here. This man was instrumental in my–” he stops, clearing his throat. “He is one of the greatest musicians I’ve ever witnessed.” he finishes.

“Oh, who is it?” you ask, watching him select the video.

“Pete Townshend.” he answers, starting the video. “He is an incredible guitarist, but that isn’t what makes him great in my opinion. He has this special ability to write insanely powerful rock songs where the guitar isn’t the main focus, or even the main instrument. His work with The Who is just… He isn’t flashy just for the show of it, because he didn’t have to be. His skill speaks for itself and that in itself is an accomplishment.”

“Wow, you know a lot about him. Would you say he is your favorite, then?” you ask.

“Ahh, I don’t know. I have a lot of favorites. A lot of influences I suppose. Lots of people who shaped me.” he answers, and slowly but surely you start to realize he is letting you know him more and more with each passing second, and you’re hanging on his every word.

“Shaped you?” you ask, trying to squeeze yourself through the tiny crack in his armor.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. You need anything while I’m up?” he says, standing up slowly and effectively shutting you out. His half smile is a little guilty, which tells you he’s well aware of what he just did.

“I’m okay.” You answer, giving him a knowing smile as he shuffles out of the room, the sound of his bare feet on the hardwood the only sound under the music playing quietly from the tv.

It’s a minute or two before he gets back and this time when he comes to sit on the couch, he lays across the cushions on his stomach, grabbing the pillow to your left and tucking it between his arm and his head. He’s so, so close to you now, the smell of his shampoo making its way over to you when he nuzzles his head against the pillow. Once he’s completely comfortable, he takes a deep breath and then speaks softly.

“I’m a musician. So. When I said ‘shaped me,’ I meant it almost literally.” His voice sounds a little different when his cheek is smushed into the throw pillow.

“So I’m guessing you play guitar?” you say, blinking up at the TV as the man on the screen’s fingers crawl across the frets.

“I do.” He says it simply, but not in a way that’s short. You look down at his right hand, bent at the elbow and holding on to the pillow. At this distance, you can see there’s a little indent around his middle finger, like he wears a ring of some sort.

“I don’t really have any… creative talents. So I think that’s really impressive.” Your words are quiet and you’re trying to coax him back out of his shell. He lifts his head from the pillow, and when he’s looking up at you from below, his glassy brown eyes are enough to make your heart melt. You have to blink a few times through the brain fog to really focus on them, and when you do, your pulse quickens.

“I’m sure that’s not true. What do you do?” He asks softly, and luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re staring at him.

“It’s very true. I’m an accountant.” You answer, laugh bubbling out of you at the absurdity of it all. “Literally the opposite of creative.”

He breaks into a grin, laughing with you for a second or two, and you think it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.

“...Alright. You got me there. We can watch something else…” He says, looking for the remote, and you mourn the loss of eye contact.

“No, no! I wanted you to pick something you’d watch even if I wasn’t here, and you did. Plus, I kinda like your commentary. This stuff is all new to me.” You say, and he chuckles softly. He rests his head on the pillow again, his arm grazing yours unintentionally. He pays it no mind.

“If you say so.”

After another two videos accompanied by Jake’s narration, you find yourself so hungry, you think you might be withering away. When there’s a lull in his commentary, you whisper into the dim room from behind him.

“Is it normal to feel like I need a snack so urgently I might pass away?”

He stretches a little, rolling over to look at you again. You give him a slow smile, your eyes squinting as your cheeks push them closed.

“I can go see what I have… It’s been a minute since I’ve been home but there’s probably–”

“No!” You interject, sitting up a little more. He jumps at the motion, a little startled. “I have this tray of chocolate covered strawberries in my fridge! My coworker called in today, and her boyfriend sent her like two dozen of them, so obviously I brought them home.”

“Oh hell yeah.” He answers, smiling back at you.

“I’ll be right back!” You say excitedly, hopping off the couch and swiping your keys off the table. You quickly slip on your shoes and head for the front door, darting out into the cold night.

It’s not long before you’re kicking the refrigerator door shut and sneaking back out into the windy February air. As you cross the street you see his door open, and once you’re close enough, you duck inside. He takes the box from you right away as he shuts the door.

After putting it down on the table near his front door, he reaches for your bare arms, rubbing them to warm you up. He laughs softly as you smile up at him.

“You didn’t bring your sweater, you absolute maniac…” he chides playfully, and you laugh in response, a chill running up your spine. His hands are so warm and his presence so comforting that you find yourself resisting the urge to wrap yourself up in him.

“I didn’t think it would be that cold.” you mumble, trying to keep your teeth from chattering.

“Oh, you thought the cold snap had just let up suddenly?” he asks with a sarcastic inflection, and you roll your eyes with a smile as he lets go of your arms. “Figured it was probably a cozy 27 degrees instead of 22?”

You pick the strawberries back up and walk past him, back toward the living room to take your seat again. Before you can offer him a snarky retort, he’s quickly heading up the stairs of his old house, taking them two at a time as they creak and crack. Footsteps sound from above you, moving in one direction and then the other, before he’s coming back down slower than he had ascended. When he appears in the entryway of the living room, he’s holding the biggest, plushest navy blue down comforter you’ve ever seen in both of his arms. He’s peeking over and around it as he navigates behind the coffee table, careful not to trip or bump into something.

“What’s all this?” You ask, laughing at the sight before you as you sit criss-crossed on the chaise, the container of strawberries still sitting in your lap, uneaten.

“The comforter from my bed, obviously.” He answers, snatching the berries from you once more and putting them on the coffee table. You groan, but it’s short lived, as he drops the entire giant comforter overtop of you. He arranges it to wrap you inside of it, letting your head peek out. He tucks it under your thighs and tugs it closed across your chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble through a tight-lipped smile, finding him a little ridiculous, but also thoughtful and sweet. He plops down next to you, sitting similarly to you with his legs crossed, the box of strawberries between you. He opens them and offers you one by the stem, which you graciously accept.

You take a bite, quickly moving your hand under your chin to catch any of the chocolate cracking and falling. You moan a little at the taste, smiling at him when his eyes cut to yours.

He takes a bite of his own, his approach for avoiding a mess a little different than yours. His bite is so big that it takes him a while to chew through it, eventually speaking with some still in his mouth.

“I don’t know who the fuck decided these are supposed to be a romantic food.” He has a little bit of chocolate in his mustache and you can’t help but giggle, his tongue quickly darting out to lick it. “I’ve never had a more difficult time eating anything in my goddamn life.” He says, a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.

You’re so far under the influence and feeling so content from finally getting your hands on the sweets you were craving, all you can do is giggle in response. It’s the kind of giggle that lingers, when the joke is probably forgotten. He’s watching you with one raised brow as you cover your mouth and try to stop it.

He eventually joins you, unable to resist the contagious, almost delusional snickering coming from you under the giant blanket across from him. It’s a sweet, silly moment, and it feels effortless. You spend the next few minutes chewing and laughing and stealing glances at him in secret. The edible has you at a point where you’re not sure if you’re speaking out loud or thinking the words in your head. So then, the question you’re considering asking him just slips out.

“Why are you so tan in February?” You laugh, realizing it was a little forward of you to just ask out of nowhere. Luckily, you’re met with a stoned giggle of his own before he swallows and answers.

“I… went to a music festival in South America last week.” He says, eyes flicking up to yours, almost like he’s trying to see if you believe him.

“See anyone good?” You pry, your cheeks a little flushed the more you stare at him and catalog his mannerisms.

“Nobody you’d know.” He says, and you take him at his word. He smiles reassuringly, even though you don’t believe him, and it makes you giggle some more.

Eventually, it settles down and it’s just occasional quiet laughs cutting through the quiet of the room. He reaches for another strawberry and you realize it’s a little too quiet. You turn your head towards the tv, the last video having ended, and the countdown to the next one descending from 15. You squint your eyes a little to see what’s about to play next.

Rig Rundown: Greta Van Fleet [2021] is the title. But what really throws you is the thumbnail. The image is an older guy with coiffed silver hair, smiling and pointing at… Jake? He’s got a smug smile on his face, an arm on this other guy’s shoulder, and his hair down, which you think you’ve seen only once. He’s in a navy blue blazer with a hand on his hip, a guitar hanging across the front of his body.

“...Is that you?”

10…9…8…

“Huh?” Jake says as he looks up at you from the box of strawberries, his mouth full, a stem pinched between his two fingers. He sees where you’re looking and follows your gaze towards the TV as it counts down.

7…6…5…

“Oh, fuck–”

You quickly grab the remote control from the end of the coffee table, trying to find the OK button so it will start playing sooner. Jake panics, tossing the carton of berries onto the table with reckless abandon. He lunges towards you, so you hide the remote inside the comforter along with as much of yourself as you can.

“No!” He shouts playfully, grabbing at the blanket and trying to unravel you. He kneels on the edge of the chaise, knocking you over and trying to get to your hands and arms under the layers and layers of soft, fluffy blankets.

“You have… to let… me watch it!” You argue with a laugh, avoiding his grasp. You finally decide to raise the remote all the way over your head, almost over the edge of the couch. He leans forward over top of you, his weight balanced on his palm next to your head.

“Hand it over.” He says, attempting to be stern, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips. A little jingle begins to play, and you can’t see the screen, but you’re positive the video is starting. You adjust the remote in your hand and crank the volume as he stares down at you. His eyes linger on your lips, then your eyes, then your lips again. His stare is only broken when he realizes it’s getting louder. A riff starts to fill the room, a song you can’t say you’ve ever heard before, and he huffs, reaching for the remote again.

You’re a little distracted watching him on the screen over his shoulder, his long hair and unbuttoned shirt and the way his hands look wrapped around the neck of the guitar. He snatches the remote from you with an extra stretch of his arm and you giggle softly. “Oh my god…”

“Hey, hey! I’m John from Premier Guitar, and I’m here with Jake Kiszka from–”

Jake pauses the video, falling back into his seat on the couch. His head lolls to the side and he looks at you with a playful, annoyed glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell are you doing guitar interviews?”

“I told you I’m a musician.” He says, a little short, lifting the remote to exit the video.

“No, no, wait!” You plead, reaching for his forearm to lower it. “Just let me watch, like, a minute.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “If you don't, I'll just go home and watch it anyway.”

He groans, mumbling a barely there “fine,” begrudgingly before pressing play and letting the guy continue.

“Greta Van Fleet! Jake, congratulations! Since I last saw you, you won a grammy! Or two grammys?”

“Yeah, one…”

“You have a fucking GRAMMY?” You exclaim as the video continues to play. You turn and look at him, but his eyes are on the screen, squinting with what you can tell is embarrassment.

“Are you gonna talk through your allotted one minute of watching or what?” He says, giving you a little warning look. You grin, turning your attention back to the screen. As the guy goes on and on, you realize this isn’t the part you want to watch.

“Can we skip past this guy? He talks a lot. This is not how I want to use my minute.” You bargain, and he just offers you the remote silently with a smirk.

You fast forward a little until you see he’s about to play. It’s a few seconds of him playing something else you’ve never heard, and then he speaks.

“It’s hotter, it’s a bit hotter…”

You smirk with wide eyes, looking at him in your peripherals.

“Shut up.” He says, closing his eyes like he simply can’t watch any more. You laugh at his dramatics, and when he hears it he can’t help but crack a smile. His cheeks are rosy and you look back at the screen, eyes trying to decide on what part of him to land on.

“This guy…” You start, shaking your head a little.

“He’s a bit much.” Jake says, looking over at you with a half smile.

“He’s so sweaty!” You add, laughing through your words.

He lets you watch for more than a minute. He makes a few comments, scoffing at himself, even running his hand over his face a few times. You can tell it’s a little painful for him, but you’re in your glory. You reach for another strawberry as you look over at his embarrassed face.

“So this is why you’re never here…” you say, turning the volume down a little. “And the music festival…”

“Yep. That would be the reason.” He says softly, sniffing a little as he watches. You turn to look at him and his eyes flick up to yours, his gaze traveling straight to your lips. There's a flicker in his eyes, and you hardly comprehend that his hand is moving towards your face. You feel his thumb swipe softly against your bottom lip, a tiny smear of chocolate on the tip of his digit. Your tongue immediately licks over the place his thumb was, tasting the sugary sweetness of the chocolate that was once there. He places his thumb between his lips, licking the chocolate from his own finger, while his eyes stay locked on yours.

“Somehow, it’s even sweeter.” he breathes letting his hand drop from his lips. He settles back into the couch cushions resting his head on his hand as he looks at you. You can hardly pull your eyes away from his as your heart races in your chest, the video in the background long forgotten.

“Tell me why you’re alone on Valentine’s day…” he murmurs, his pink lips barely parting to let the words escape.

“You tell me why you are…” you counter, blinking slowly as you stare at him.

He bites his lips together as he tosses around the words in his head. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he starts to speak. “Well, to be honest… I’ve had trouble finding someone that can live with the burden of my lifestyle. It’s a lot to ask of someone. ”

“Burden?” you ask.

“Yeah, that’s the word that always gets thrown around when things go south. And they’re not wrong I suppose. I know that I’m gone more than I’m home. Even you know that.” He says with a humorless chuckle. “Half the time I don’t know the next time that I’ll be home and get to sleep in my own bed. So naturally that sort of…uncertainty doesn’t lend well to relationships. Of any kind really…” he pauses, letting out a sigh. “It’s hard to find, let alone keep, any type of meaningful connection… Especially when I’m halfway around the world. But I swear it’s not for lack of trying on my end. It’s just one of those things that comes with the job whether you want it or not.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling your heart breaking for him. If you weren’t sure before, you are positive now that he is just a little more lonely than he is willing to let on.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here now. We’re supposed to be traveling to New York right now. Though, everything happens for a reason I guess.” he says, offering you a little smirk as he brushes his hand over top of yours. “Now, your turn. Tell me why such an intriguing woman is all alone on the most romantic day of the year…”

You pull the fluffy blanket up a little further onto your lap, toying with the hem as you look up at him. “I haven’t really dated anyone since I moved here. I thought I would but, I just…haven’t. I thought that once I was settled into a good routine at work I could spend a little more time meeting people, but every time I go out I’m suddenly surrounded by twenty other girls who are by modern standards perfect, and I just don’t even stand a chance against them, you know?” you pause, letting your fingers roll over the stitching on the edge of the duvet. “I don’t look like them, and I never will. So I just work a lot, hang out with my friends when I can, and have zero expectations of ever being the person that is going to stand out in a crowd like that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, suddenly feeling stupid for telling this stranger your secrets.

“You couldn't be more wrong.” he breathes, letting his arm fall against the back of the couch. There’s an air of demand in his voice as he speaks. His hand swipes the hair away from your face, letting his fingers brush your jawline. “You’re prettier than all of them. And smarter, and funnier. They have nothing on you. I’d pick you…In a crowd.”

“You don’t have to just say that to try and make me feel better. It’s okay, really.” you say dismissively.

“I’m not just saying that, Y/N. I mean it. You’re so pretty, and you’re so quick witted, and you listen to me talk about stuff no one else cares about...Shit, I can’t think of one person I know that would have sat through even the first video, let alone let me talk through the entire thing. I’m having one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, with you.” he urges, settling his hand loosely on the curve of your neck. His skin is warm against yours, and you can smell the remnants of the cologne he likely sprayed on his wrist this morning as it wafts towards your nose.

You laugh softly, suddenly feeling shy as he compliments you. You lean into him without even noticing, your eyes closing as you breathe him in. The cushion dips as he leans towards you, meeting you where you were and pressing his lips to yours almost tentatively. His fingers grip into your neck as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. If the gummy didn’t already have you feeling floaty, you were sure you’d be feeling it now. He pulls away from you and a small whimper leaves your mouth at the loss of his warmth. His hand slides down your neck and over your shoulder, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. With his other hand, he picks up the remote and hits pause, not wanting the video to carry on in the background of what you think is about to be another kiss.

“C’mere…” he growls, holding a hand out to you. You tuck your feet underneath yourself in an attempt to push up onto your knees, feeling slightly off-kilter. You grip his hand a little tighter as you reach for his shoulder, moving slowly until you’re straddling his lap. He positions your legs on either side of him, making sure you’re comfortable, and taking the opportunity to run his hands over your thighs. You rest your hands on his chest for some stability, your head in the clouds. His hands immediately find their way back to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you in and kisses you again,though this time there is a little more urgency behind it. You slide your hands up and over his shoulders, letting your fingers weave into his hair, grabbing a handful of the chestnut locks and gripping it in your fists. He tilts his head back slightly in response.

“Oh, fuck.” he groans. He looks at you with his head tilted back, his lids heavy, a barely-there crooked smile on his face. He’s such a sight with his dark eyes and pink lips, you think you might burst on the spot. You know you need to kiss him again, but you also want to hear him moan and curse again, and his exposed throat is calling to you.

Leaning down, you place a kiss to his jaw, the skin soft and warm. You feel like you’re in the passenger seat as someone else, a bolder and less inhibited version of yourself, calls the shots. One minute, you’re thinking about how the textured skin of his throat feels against your cheek, then then the next, you’re kissing and licking at it without a second thought. You feel his skin buzz under your lips as he whines, the taste of his skin and cologne mixed together so good you’re certain you’ll never be able to forget it.

You feel yourself melting into him, your tongue pulling the delicate skin over his clavicle into your mouth as you suck and bite softly without any consideration for the fact that he probably shouldn’t be covered in love bites. When you lift your head, he’s got his own resting on the back of the couch, his eyes closed, his brows knitted together as you shower him in searing kisses.

Sitting up, you lean over him again for another kiss, this time taking it upon yourself to deepen it, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip as you lace your hands in his hair again, taking a bit of control. You feel him shudder beneath you, his hips bucking up in response. His tongue slides into your mouth and you can taste the lingering flavor of the tequila he was no doubt drinking prior to your arrival mixed with a hint of chocolate. His hands travel down your body, sliding underneath the hem of your shirt. He stops as his hands wrap around your waist, his thumbs swiping over your skin. You lean into his grip, feeling him pull you down onto his groin as his teeth nip at your lips now.

You know that both of you are still feeling the effects of the gummy and there isn’t a shred of inhibition between the two of you. You release your grip on his hair and let your hands trail down the open buttons of his shirt, feeling the chest you’ve stared at all night beneath your fingertips. You slide them further down, letting your fingers toy with the remaining buttons, waiting to see if he will stop you, but when he doesn’t, you finish the job and push his shirt open completely. A silver necklace rests between his pecs, and you smile recognizing the coin as one of the artifacts you saw in one of the videos from earlier in the night.

His mouth is like velvet on yours and you can’t help but to want more of him. You roll your hips against him, feeling him growing beneath you and spurring you on even more. Another groan leaves his mouth, his lips vibrating on yours. His hands move up a little further, his thumbs just dusting the underside of your bralette. You can tell he’s doing his best to be respectful, but you simply cannot wait another second to feel his hands on your body.

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it to the side. He swallows thickly as his eyes roam over you, his lips parting as he looks you over. His mind is struggling to keep up with the pace things are moving. He hums in approval as he runs a calloused fingertip over your navel, which pulls a lazy smile from you. Jake chuckles in response, now moving his hands to rest at your shoulders before pulling you down closer to him so he can press a wet kiss to your collarbone. His lips trail down your skin until they reach the fullness of your chest, and with his eyes now locked on yours, he sucks a hot, audible kiss into the rounded skin.

Your eyes flutter closed as his tongue swipes against your skin, simultaneously feeling his fingers pull the bralette straps down over your shoulders. With the extra support gone the cups fall slightly, revealing a little more of your chest to him. You grab his hands and pull them to your chest, giving him the green light to take things a little further.

“God, you’re stunning.” he mumbles breathlessly, gripping into your tits as you roll your hips against him. You lean forward to press your lips to his again, licking into his mouth as his hands move to circle around your back, resting just at the base of your back. He presses you closer as you roll into him again, this time feeling his fully hard cock pressed against your core. He hooks a finger into one side of your bralette, freeing your nipple. He leans forward and takes into his mouth, sucking softly. You groan at the feeling, a breath of air leaving his mouth as you drag across the length of him. He pulls you closer, dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud as mewls fall from your lips. You usually aren’t as affected by something so routine in foreplay, but all of your senses are heightened and you think you could probably cum from the feeling of his mouth spoiling you with kisses and bites combined with how hard he is between your thighs.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still glassy and blown out. “I promise this isn’t what I intended when I invited you over...” he breathes, his thumbs swiping against your back as he licks his lips, his blinks slow and lazy.

“I know…” you answer with a bashful smile and lidded eyes, staring into his brown irises. “But it feels too good to stop.”

“Yeah,” he says, more of a breath than a word. “I want you so fucking bad right now.” he adds, a smirk pulling across his lips as he makes the move to roll you to your back on the chaise of the couch. You're giggling as he’s now hovering over you, similarly to how he was earlier, only this time you know he’s going to kiss you and you don’t have to wish for it. He makes quick work of his shirt, pulling his arms from the sleeves and tossing it to the other side of the room. Your head is positively spinning, the room around you seems like a blur and the only thing in focus is him.

He runs a finger over your chest, hooking into the fabric of your bralette. “Take this off for me, sweetheart. Show me.” he mumbles, his lazy eyes slowly raking over every inch of you, needing more.

You practically burst into flames, rushing to pull the fabric over your head. Now completely exposed to him, his eyes flick down to your chest as he bites his lips together. He pulls back again, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down for some relief. He swallows harshly, letting his eyes meet yours again. You reach your hand up and hook it around his neck, pulling his face down to yours. You press your lips to his and he lowers himself down to his elbows, deepening the kiss as his body lays on top of yours.

You let your free hand circle around his back, your fingers following the contours of his waist, dipping down to his spine as you run the length of his back. He groans at the feeling of your nails against his skin, and you find yourself wondering if he’s usually this vocal or if the high he’s experiencing has lowered his guard.

He shoots up, turning his head around to look at the TV, muttering something under his breath as he grabs the remote from the other side of the couch. He exits the video and you giggle, realizing it was paused on a still of his brother, you assume, in the middle of talking with his hands, sitting behind a keyboard. He tosses the remote to the coffee table, leaning back down over you with a smirk. “Sorry. I just think three’s a crowd.” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away from your lips leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, and over your sternum, stopping just shy of the top of your yoga pants. His eyes flick up to yours, and you offer him a shy nod, silently thanking yourself for that “everything” shower this morning.

He kisses your stomach one more time before curling his fingers beneath the hem, sliding them slowly over your hips and down your legs before letting them fall softly to the floor. You lay there in just your panties, and you think he may notice that you’re feeling exposed as he quickly stands to kick off his pants. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the heavy outline of his dick, visible and straining against the black fabric of his boxers.

His eyes flick to yours but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the tan line just above the elastic of his boxers, wanting more than anything to peel the black fabric from his hips. He kneels onto the chaise, settling himself between your legs and caging you between his arms. A few strands of his hair hang around his face, and his dark brown eyes are growing darker by the second. You bring your hand up to his stomach, letting your fingers sneak beneath the elastic of his boxers, sliding across the front of his waist causing him to clench up his stomach with a smile.

“You ticklish?” you murmur, continuing to slide your fingers across his waistband.

He drops his head to look at your hand in his boxers before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Not ticklish, just…sensitive…” he growls. You can tell that the gummy has made him a little more responsive to touch than he normally is.

His hips jolt forward on their own accord and you feel the brush of his dick against your fingers. He sucks in a harsh breath at the contact, his eyes connecting with yours. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you push your hand further inside, wrapping softly around his hardened length. A hiss leaves his mouth and he starts to breathe a little heavier as you squeeze around him. You slide your hand up and around the tip, rounding off at the end before sliding back down, watching his eyes flutter closed for the slightest second.

“Fuck, wait…” he breathes, pulling back and taking a second to compose himself. He sits up a little more, hooking his fingers into your thong and pulling it swiftly down your legs. His eyes flick up towards the couch then back down the length of the chaise, “Move down a little for me, baby. Rest your feet on the floor. ”

You quickly push yourself further down on the couch, letting your knees hang over the edge of the chaise until your feet meet the rug on the floor. He drops to his knees at the end of the chaise, running his warm hands up the length of your thighs. He kisses the inside of your thigh, humming in appreciation for the position he’d found himself in.

He rests both of his hands on your hips, and as you look down at him, you see a faint silver scar up the length of his left arm. You wrap your hand around his forearm, feeling his veins pulsing against your palm.

His eyes meet yours as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds, hot and slow as you throw your head back into the couch cushion. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin pulling you closer as his lips suction over your clit. His tongue swipes against you again, flatter and with more pressure as you writhe beneath him.

“Fuck…” he curses, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. “Had I known what I was missing…” he pauses to lick at you again. “I would have pulled you across the street months ago. You taste like heaven.”

You feel as if you’re floating on a cloud as you melt into his comforter, the warmth from the fireplace radiating across the room. A soft gasp falls from your lips as he laps at you, no urgency or strategy behind his method. He seems to just be enjoying himself, his eyes lifting to look at you, a little lazy, a little glassy. You shift underneath him slightly, but he’s not deterred. His mouth doesn’t leave you for even a moment, like you’re his only source of vitality in this very moment.

You whine when you feel his tongue press to your entrance, and you feel the smile that pulls across his lips. Your hips buck up towards him, his nose brushing over your clit, sending you quickly towards a place you’re not quite ready to be yet. His tongue finds you again, pressing forward this time and entering just for a second before pulling back out. His lips suction over you again, and he shakes his head side to side, taking you to that place whether you’re ready or not.

“Jake…” you whine, sliding your hands into his hair.

“Mmm?” he hums into you, his eyes slowly opening to find yours, heavy with lust.

“More…” you beg, shuddering the slightest bit as you see how dark his eyes have become.

He gives you one more slow, long lap of his tongue, like he’s savoring it and committing the taste of you to memory. He stands from where he was kneeling and taps your thigh gently, wordlessly telling you to shift back up on the chaise. You scoot backwards and he follows, nestling himself between your legs, propped up on his palm. With the hand he isn’t using for balance, he frees himself from his briefs. He strokes himself once, but then lets himself go and you feel him against you, his cock heavy and hard, landing on the inside of your thigh with the softest sound. He pulls back slightly and when he pushes his hips forward again, he’s sliding through your folds, slick and lewd. It makes your cheeks hot.

“You’re so fucking wet…” he grunts, his voice strained like he’s in pain. “Just wanna feel you for a second…”

He lowers himself to bury his face in your hair, his breath hot as he pants, gently rutting his hips against you, his thrusts a little uncoordinated and desperate.

“Everything’s just so fucking sensitive.” he says, his now boyish voice cracking as it’s muffled by the pillow behind your head. He wraps his arms tightly around you and under you, like he’s worried you’re about to float away. “Feels so good.”

With a deep breath he releases you, sliding his hand down to fist his base. As he presses the tip to your entrance his eyes lock on yours, wordlessly asking if you’re ready, and when you nod he starts to press forward. His eyes flick down to your center, watching as he slides into you. The stretch is noticeable, but you welcome it. You want it. His eyes flutter closed for just a second and you feel him stop his movement, not pressing into you fully.

“Fuck, give me a second.” he pants, his chest heaving.

You feel him try to slide in a little more, but again he’s holding back.

“I think– I think you’re gonna have to take the reins here.” he admits.

“What do you mean…”

“If I move a single inch more I won’t–” he pauses, shaking his head as he blows out a breath. “I just need you to be on top.”

His eyes are pleading, searching yours, and you can’t possibly fathom the idea of ever denying him.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” he offers, and you can’t help but give him a little smirk, nodding. He withdraws and gives you a little space to get up, ditching his underwear before taking your place. You gingerly climb over him, taking a moment to brush one of the strands of hair that frames his face out of the way. He gives you a soft, lazy smile, his eyes barely open as he welcomes your gentle touch.

His hand reaches between the two of you as he lines himself up, and you waste no time lowering yourself onto him, savoring how full he makes you feel. Intending to fly right out of the gates you lift your hips again, but he slowly settles you down, a soft hum rumbling through him.

“That’s it. Yeah… Lean back for me?” he coaches, and you do as he asks without a second thought. His warm hand brushes down your abdomen until his thumb makes contact with your clit to rub gentle circles while his lidded eyes are open just a sliver to stare intently at where your bodies are meeting. His pink lips are parted slightly, his breathing shallow. You can’t help the wanton moan that escapes your throat at the sight paired with his careful touch.

“Rest your hands on my knees. I won’t let you fall.” he instructs, letting his free hand slide up your thigh. You do as he says, leaning back onto his knees, allowing you to take him a little deeper. “Just like that, baby. Fuck…”

You roll your hips in figure eights, feeling him brush against that sensitive place inside you, eliciting a whine from your chest.

“Yeah? Right there?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “You stay just like that. Let me take over.”

He brings his foot up to rest on the cushion, giving himself a little more leverage. His hand firmly grips into your hip as he forcefully flicks his hips and fucks up into you. You gasp as he hits that spot, like he knew where it was the whole time. His thumb never relenting in its work on your clit.

“Yeah, damn. That’s it isn’t it, sweetheart? You feel so good like this... You just keep squeezin’ me, just like that.”

The force of his thrusts cause his silver chain to work its way up his body and into the crook of his neck. Your attention is quickly drawn to the metal coins rattling together with each thrust.

“M’gonna cum…” you warn him so he can decide whether or not to back off, but he just groans and keeps his motions steady. You can’t breathe when it hits you, nor can you help the way you fall forward, gasping for breath. Steadying yourself with weak arms, you grasp at the plush comforter underneath him.

“Fuck me that’s tight,” he groans. “Fuck.” He grabs your wrists on either side of his head for leverage, thrusting up into you so hard you see stars. It’s like your vision goes white as your chest heaves and you meet your end, crying out a desperate wail of his name.

“Slow down for me now, baby.” he coos as you tremble and try to catch your breath. You nod, taking all of him slowly with each roll of your hips. Looking down at him, you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together. Something about the way he’s dewy with sweat, his chest rising and falling, his hair sticking to his face… It makes your head spin. You watch his stoned eyes rolling back each time you take him so deeply the head of his cock brushes against the deepest part of you and it’s almost too much to bear.

He grips your hips suddenly, inhaling sharply. You freeze, knowing what he’s getting at, and you feel him twitch inside you. His brow is knitted up in concentration and a whine leaves his perfect, heart-shaped lips.

“Goddamn… you feel too good. I can’t– I can’t hold it, fuck…” he babbles, his voice pitched higher than you’ve heard it all night. Before you can say a word, he continues on.

“Can I do it inside? Please, baby, can I? Pl– oh, god, please? Wanna cum inside you so bad, so fucking bad… Can I? Baby–”

“Do it.” you urge, desperate to give him anything he wants in this very moment.

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Yeah, do it. Please. I need it…” you whine, squeezing him with everything you have one last time.

“Oh fuck…” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you down and holds you in place as he pumps into you. “God damn, fuck me…” he cries out, grunting with each pulse inside you. His brows are furrowed and his eyes screwed shut before finally letting out a deep breath and slowing his hips.

His chest is heaving and a sheen of sweat covers his tanned skin. His hand moves from your hips, swiping the sweaty hair from his forehead. You lift to your knees, knowing exactly why his eyes are still trained on the place the two of you meet. He wants to see his work.

As you lift up, you feel his release start to stream out of you and back down onto his cock. A huff of pride leaves his chest, his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip before biting it between his teeth.

“Should we clean up?” he asks, watching the hot white streams drip down to his base.

“I’m working on it...” you say softly, lifting off of him completely and dropping to your knees. You plant your hands on either side of his hips, arching your back and pressing your ass into the air as you lower your mouth over his cum covered cock.

“Fuck…” he groans, watching your lips slide down his length.

Closing your lips over his base, you take him as far into your throat as you can, sucking his release from his skin as you work your way up, dragging your tongue over his every inch. You can feel him growing hard again as you reach the tip, lapping and circling your tongue around the sensitive skin. You drop down to his base again, but this time you feel his hand grip into your hair, holding you there as his hips jerk forward, propelling him further down your throat.

“Look at me.” he demands, and you flick your watery eyes up to meet his.

You gag around him and he releases your hair, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “Mmm…Yeah, fuck. We’re gonna revisit this...” he says, eyes fixed on you as you pull off of him with a pop. “Just needed to see how pretty you look with my cock down your throat.”

You can’t stop the tiny gasp that escapes you as you shoot him a playfully shocked grin. You blink once, raising your brows.

“We have a lot to revisit. Where did that come from?” You ask through a laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He chuckles, handing you your shirt.

“Sorry, sorry. The edible’s wearing off.” He says with a smirk, attempting to get himself off the couch. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Jake shows you to the bathroom, then disappears into his bedroom while you freshen up. When you emerge, re-dressed and significantly less sticky, he hears your footsteps and comes out to meet you in the hallway. The two of you smile at each other, feeling the THC and endorphins and feelings starting to settle like you’re standing in a snowglobe.

“I'm glad you came over. Sorry I Jake’d you for a few hours.” He says softly, and there’s some jingling coming from his bedroom, which is probably Davy annoyed that you’re still lingering in his house. Jake hears it, reaching behind him to close his bedroom door without looking away from you.

“Jake’d me? Please don’t tell me that’s what you call–”

“NO, no, no. Oh, no. Getting ‘Jake’d’ is what my family calls it when I corner one of them into talking to me for an extended period of time about something they don’t really care about in excruciating detail.” He explains like he’s reading the definition from a textbook, a charming smile on his face. He seems a little embarrassed but at the same time, he sees the humor in it.

“Well I had a really great time.” you answer genuinely, pushing your hair behind your ear. “You can Jake me whenever you want.” You joke, a laugh bubbling out of you. You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully and it coaxes a short, loud laugh out of him as well.

“I just might take you up on that.” He says, and there’s a rosy tint to his cheeks even in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“You know where to find me...”

As if he can tell you’re about to try and take your leave, he starts to walk past you and down the stairs.

“...Have you ever watched those videos where they clean out old barns?”

–

The two of you ended up curled together on the chaise, tucked under his big comfy blanket. The exhaustion hits you all at once, and about 10 minutes in, you slip into a deep sleep, your head tucked into his shoulder, his arm around you, his hand gently scratching your scalp.

Hours later, you wake up unsure where you are for a moment. As you shift a little, you feel there’s a heavy weight against you, which you soon realize is Jake’s leg. You’re no longer tucked underneath the giant duvet, a little sweaty, as Jake is asleep on his back. His hand is tucked into his sweatpants resting on his upper thigh, and you have to peel your eyes away once you spot the first sign of him half hard and half asleep. You can see his bold tan line and the slightest bit of hair through the gap he’s created. Sitting up, you try to search for a clock somewhere in the room or even your phone. Feeling around the chaise under you, you don’t find it. You look over on the other side of Jake hoping it’s there, but the only thing you find there is little Davy, curled into a ball and pressed against Jake’s back.

Jake seems to feel you moving around and it wakes him, eliciting a raspy hum from his chest. He pulls you back in towards him, your back to his chest, and you feel him shaking his head against your shoulder.

“Morning,” you say through a breathy laugh, but at the sound of your voice, you hear the jingle of Davy’s collar and the tippy-taps of his feet as he runs as far away from you as humanly possible.

“Too early.” He grumbles, reaching blindly over his head to feel around for the curtains. When he doesn’t find them, he groans and gets up, tugging them closed tight. “Fuck. Slept with my contacts in.” He says, standing over you and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stretches his arms over his head, his tanline peeking out again, and you squeeze your eyes closed trying to keep your head on straight. He sighs deeply before sliding back onto the couch with you, pulling you tight to him. The two of you fall back asleep soon after, the only sound you hear is the clinking of Davy’s collar tag against his bowl and some quiet crunching.

–

When you wake again it’s from the feeling of Jake’s fingers moving against your hip. You stretch your legs out along the chaise, feeling the brush of his sweatpants against your legs. You roll your body towards him letting out a yawn. His eyes open, a little red from the dryness of sleeping with his contacts in, but as they fully open you’re once again pulled in by the dark brown irises.

“Still too early?” you whisper, your morning voice thick with sleep.

“Mmm, a bit, but I should probably get up. I’m sure my phone is just completely blown up by this point.” he groans, stretching his own legs out. “You sleep okay? We should’ve just moved to the bed earlier.”

“Actually this couch is pretty comfy, no complaints from me.” you smile, watching a grin spread across his own face.

“Speaking of complaints, your snoring…” he trails off.

“I don’t snore!” you admonish, playfully pushing off of his warm chest.

“No, you don’t. I’m just kidding. You are warm though, but that’s not a complaint.” he growls, tossing the comforter off of both of you. He pushes himself up off of the couch, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips. “Coffee? You drink coffee?” he asks, searching for his phone on the coffee table. “Or I can order something to the house, though there’s really only one good place that deliv–”

You send him a knowing look and he stops himself.

“But you know that already because you live across the street.” he sighs. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee’s good.” you answer, looking for your own phone.

“How do you like it? Sugar? Milk? I don’t know what I have but–”

“Just sugar is fine…” you smirk.

He leans over the coffee table to grab his phone, stealing a kiss on his descent.

“Hey!” you laugh.

“You said just sugar…” he grins, swiping his phone and disappearing into his kitchen.

You stifle back the smile on your lips, and a morning you thought might be slightly awkward, feels like you’ve done it a million times. You pull on your cardigan, and run your fingers through your hair, straightening up the couch cushions, and repositioning the pillows. You’re finishing folding up his comforter as he walks into the room.

“Ahh, you didn’t have to do that.” he says, placing your mug on the coffee table.

“No trouble, just cleaning up our mess.” you smile, tossing the folded comforter down onto the couch.

“You seem to be rather good at that...” he smirks into his coffee mug.

Your cheeks grow hot as you recall what he is referring to. You grab your mug from the table and take a few sips, finding that somehow it’s made exactly how you like it.

You spot your keys under the coffee table, bending to grab them. “There they are. Always getting away from me.”

He chuckles as he takes his normal seat on the couch, crossing his leg over his knee. You stare at him, just enjoying his coffee on his couch and you want to ask him if you can see him again, but you don’t. You think back to what he told you last night, and decide against it.

You place your empty mug on the table, and bite your lips together before looking at him. “Thank you– for the coffee, and everything. It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was nice, wasn’t it? Same time next year?” he jokes, offering you a wink.

“Oh yeah, I thought that was a given…” you say through a laugh, “I mean, if you’re home of course.”

You grab your phone and keys from the coffee table and stand, ready to make your way towards the front door. He joins you in standing, the mug still clasped in his hand.

“Yeah, you just never know, ya know? I mean, maybe we don’t even have to wait that long…” he laughs, taking another sip of his coffee with a shrug.

“Yeah, I mean, you have my number…” You smile, twisting the front door knob.

“That I do. I definitely do.” he pauses, as you pull the door open. “Hey wait, let me walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, it’s just right there…” you say nervously.

“No, really. I want to. Just give me a sec.” he says, setting his mug on the entry table and rushing to grab a hoodie from his coat rack. He slides on a pair of dirty white Vans that have definitely seen better days, and opens the door further. “Alright, you ready?”

The two of you make your way through his front yard, giggling back and forth all the way to your front door as he quizzes you about the videos you watched last night. As you step up to your front porch mat you pull your keys from your cardigan pocket and start to unlock the door.

“Thanks for walking me home. You’re such a gentleman…” you say, feigning romance. As you peek over his shoulder you see Davy sitting in the window, keeping a close eye on Jake.

“Well of course, I couldn’t miss out on my kiss…” he smiles, a little dimple forming in his cheek.

“What kiss…” you press, all the while secretly hoping for just one more.

He grabs your waist and pulls you close to him, pressing his cold lips to yours. You can taste the remnants of coffee on his tongue, and as he pulls away his lips linger just a second longer.

A hum leaves his lips as he steps back. “That kiss.” He says, stepping backwards off of your porch, taking a few steps before turning to head back to his house. As you step inside your front door you look over your shoulder at the same time as he does, throwing his hand up from inside his hoodie pocket to offer you a two finger wave.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you close the door behind you, and you feel like positively melting into the ground over the night you just shared with Jake. As you peek out the window you see Davy gone from his patrol post, and you smile knowing he’s definitely happy to have Jake all to himself again.

—

As you scrub away the remnants of the night before, you can’t help but to remember the way his hands felt as they moved across your body. So warm and so intentional, even in his intoxicated state. You wonder if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and if he’s thinking about it just as much as you are. You think back to every other Valentine’s day you’ve ever had, and not a single one holding a candle to the night you just spent across the street with your neighbor.

You hear your phone buzz on the bathroom counter as you turn the shower off, wrapping yourself in a towel as you pick it up from the countertop. Your heart leaps in your chest as you see his name flash across your screen.

Jake - Neighbor

12:04pm: Probably should have watched the first one before the sequel. 😉

12:04pm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWDf_CEkpoU&t=1382s

You quickly hit the link, watching as it directs you to youtube, pulling up yet another Rig Rundown video. This one is much older than the one you saw last night, and as you lean against the bathroom counter the intro music starts to play. You’re met with a much younger looking version of Jake, in a sweater and a bucket hat, looking bright and eager to talk about his craft.

You quickly head towards your kitchen, pulling your own stash of gummies from your pantry. You pluck one of the small black bags from the basket and snap a photo as you pull up your texts and attach it to a message with a giggle.

You

12:10pm: Should I take one of these before I watch it?

12:10pm: By the way, love the bucket hat… 😉

You make your way back to your bedroom, dressing yourself in lounge clothes, knowing you’ll probably spend the rest of the day relaxing and catching up on your shows. Satisfied with your outfit you grab your phone to check for his response, only to be met with an empty screen. You sigh and make your way to the living room, flopping down onto your couch with your leftover take out from the night before, pressing play on the TV.

You try not to think about the man across the street and what he’s probably doing. You know he must be into something since he has yet to respond to your message. That or he has no intention of ever speaking to you again.

Feeling frustrated that it’s probably the latter, you toss your phone to the other side of the couch, catching a glance out your window. Your eyes snap to his driveway, seeing another car taking up the space next to his. Who the hell is at his house?

You stand up and make your way over to the window, taking a closer look at the white Jeep parked next to his car. You’ve never noticed it before…Or have you? You start to wrack your brain for the times you’ve even seen another car at his house, but you come up short. Never really caring before today.

You sit back down on the couch and start the next episode of your show, feeling the soreness from the prior night's activities starting to settle into your muscles. You grab a throw blanket and your favorite pillow and snuggle down into the couch cushions, ready to nap away your troubles, and hoping to wake up to a new message in your inbox.

A knock on the door startles you awake. You grab your phone and see that you’ve slept quite a few hours, and it’s now nearly 6:00pm.

You stand up and run your hands through your hair to combat the bedhead, clearing your throat as you reach for the door knob. Standing on the other side of your door is Jake, looking like he is fresh from the shower, as his damp hair lays long over his shoulders. You can smell his body wash wafting off of him and you practically melt into the door frame.

“Did I wake you up? Did you actually take that gummy?” he laughs, pulling his hands from his pockets.

“Oh, no. I didn’t. I just… I guess I was a little more tired than I thought.” you blush, trying to play it cool, and not like you’ve been thinking about him since the moment he left this morning.

“Sorry I forgot to respond. My brother came over and I couldn’t get him to leave.” he laughs.

His brother.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I was in and out of sleep all day anyways.” you lie.

“So…” he pauses, taking a breath as he reaches into his pocket. “I may have acquired something a bit better than what we had last night.” he says holding a small black bag in his palm.

“I don’t know, I kind of liked what we had last night.” you quip, a little smirk on your lips.

“Mhmm, I know you did.” he smiles, sliding his hands back into his trouser pockets.

“I don’t know if you had plans tonight or anything…” he trails off, kicking his foot against your doormat. “But I was thinking about watching this video I saw about how to make a barbecue smoker out of a filing cabinet. Really riveting stuff…”

His big brown eyes flash up to yours in question and you feel that flame in your chest reignite. You’re already eager at the thought of spending another night like last night. You knew right then that it wouldn’t matter if it was a filing cabinet smoker or a centuries old shipwreck, there was suddenly nothing more important than watching whatever it may be, with him. So with a shy smile, and the tap of your fingers against your chin you meet his gaze.

“You know, I really have been meaning to look into that…”

Taglist: @ageofcj @britney-gvf @bladenotblaze @gretavanfan @peaceloveunitygvf @highway-tuna @anythingforjtk @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @myleftsock @gretavanmoon @aflame4goinghome @ascendingtothestarssasone @jjwasneverhere @sparrowofrhiannon @gvfstuddedmajesty @kiarraaldarondo @oliver-mf-reed @notjordie-gvf @starshine-wagner @starcatcherchords @sadiechar @spark-my-nature @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mackalah @stardustofman @eyelinerjake @farfromthehomelands @abby-gvf @writingcold @fleet-of-fiction @stardustjake @sinarainbows @gvfsstardust @ageoflou @jarmonicasweat @jakekiszkasmommy @bubblyjake @jakeygvf21 @starrymoonslut @takenbythemadness @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @m0uthfl13s @floatinglikeaswan @bri-archer @Mama.likes72

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starsinthesky5 · 6 months ago

Text

you are in love II || joe burrow x reader

description: you and joe navigate life once you move in together. everyday feels like a dream with him

a/n: requested part 2 to my first fic :) this was super fun to write!! i am so sorry for how long this is LMAO. i just couldn’t stop writing this one and it felt good to write all this because of my first ever fic. writing has been so much fun and thank you all so much for the love and support <3

also, i can say with a fact that joe is joe-ing right now and im so-

no thoughts head empty 😁

part 1 part 3

warnings: smutttt, language, y’all are horny horny…

word count: 12.3 k (again, i am so sorry HAHA)

-------------------------------------------

February

The sounds of rumbling thunder woke you up fairly early Saturday morning. Your eyes fluttered open as you looked over at the clock, it was 8 am, a little too early for your liking. You felt a pile of weight on you and looked down to be met with your adorable boyfriend wrapped around your torso. His head was lying on your chest and his arms were loosely wrapped around your waist, and he was fast asleep. Joe usually wasn’t a clingy sleeper, you were, so this was a little peculiar for him. Sure, you guys would cuddle all the time, but you would usually stay like that throughout the night, or you would end up on his chest. But last night it seemed he had moved onto your chest, and you weren’t complaining because you felt so warm and cozy.

You raked your fingers through his dirty blonde hair, which he had been growing out, so pulling on the strands was even more fun than it usually was. You looked around the room, taking in your surroundings. You were in Joe’s bed, which was now yours, and were in his room, which was also now yours. You looked over to the TV table in front of you, which was decorated with numerous photos of you and Joe from over the past year that he had filled his room with. Some photos from your adventures together, some photos of you both before his football games, and some photos that only the two of you had seen from special moments in your relationship. When you first saw all the pictures he had in his room, your heart soared. You didn’t think he was such a softie but he loved to display your relationship anywhere and everywhere he could. There were a few boxes scattered throughout the big room. You were in the process of moving your stuff into Joe’s house, so there were a lot of things around the room at the moment.

“This is the life,” you whisper to yourself as you press a light kiss to his forehead, which ends up waking him. He moved around a little before opening his eyes and you immediately shut yours so he wouldn’t notice that you’re the reason why he woke up. You stayed incredibly still as he lifted his head from your chest, pressing soft kisses around the exposed skin of your collarbone because of your tank top before moving up and pressing a few soft kisses to your lips.

“Morning, Baby,” he says, pressing another kiss to your soft lips. His raspy morning voice and bedhead look always made you spiral. There was no reason for him to be this hot this early in the morning.

You opened one of your eyes to take a peek at him, then both. “How did you know I was awake?”.

“I’ve been awake for the past 20 minutes,” he laughed. “I just didn’t feel like getting up and waking you up. But it seems like you’re awake,”.

“That I am,” you say, giving him a lazy smile.

“Ready for another day of moving into Casa Burrow?” He says as he gets up and moves next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” You say while patting his chest as he begins to play with your soft hair.

“Unless you can come up with a better name, then yes,”.

“Casa Burrow it is,” you smile as you press a kiss to his neck.

He lets out a sigh before pulling you closer so that you are on top of him, just like how he was on you earlier.

“What’s with the sigh?” You ask.

“I don’t wanna get up,” he groans. “The rainy day vibes and this comfy bed are making it really hard to want to be productive today,”.

“Just be glad we’re doing this after the season’s over and not trying to do it during the season, shit would be so chaotic,”. Although Joe had mentioned you living with him in December, you had slowly moved your stuff in but had been officially living with him since the end of January. You wanted to wait till the season was over so that it wouldn’t be too much for him to handle.

“That is true,” he says.

“Well, we have to be productive today if we wanna get rid of all these boxes,” you giggle while looking up at Joe. His icy blue eyes met yours and instantly set off fireworks in your belly. He looks absolutely sexy right now and you needed him, which gave you an idea.

You moved your legs so that they were straddling his hips and sat up. His hands naturally navigated around your waist. “Butttt, we don’t have to be productive until a little later,” you tease while moving your hands across his bare chest.

“Oh yeah?” He smirks. “What are you suggesting we do in the meantime?” He asks while slipping his fingers into the bottom of your tank top.

“Hmm, maybe a rep of our favorite workout,” you say as you press a slow and sensual kiss on his lips.

“Sounds good to me,” he whispers as he peels off your tank top. A few minutes later, both of your clothes are on the floor and you’re caught up in a messy heated kiss.

Your wetness was seeping onto his impressive erection as he moved your hips so that you were grinding down on him.

“Mmph, Joe,” you whimpered into the kiss. His hand navigated to the back of your head, pushing you deeper into the kiss. You moved your hand so that you were cupping his face and started to suck on his bottom lip, making Joe moan into the kiss. A few seconds later, you pulled away and sat up.

“You ready?” You smiled.

“Always,” he said as he patted the sides of your hips.

You lined yourself up with his cock, your core was slick with arousal which made it easy for him to slide inside. You let out a loud moan as he moved deeper and deeper into your core, eventually reaching the hilt. “Joey,” you moaned.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted.

You pressed your palms against his chest and started to move your hips, getting straight to business. At first, you moved slowly but eventually picked up the pace. Sounds of skin-hitting skin filled the room as you started to ride him faster and harder.

“Y/N, you feel so good,” he moaned as he dug his head back into the pillow. He was having the time of his life right now. The love of his life was fucking him into oblivion and looked absolutely gorgeous while doing so. Your hair was disheveled but flawless. Your ample breasts were bouncing with each movement, giving him the perfect opportunity to play with them. He moved his hand to your right breast, giving it a soft squeeze before running his thumb across your sensitive bud.

“Fuck,” you moaned as you threw your head back. You leaned back, placed your hands on the sides of his legs, and began to slide up and down his length, causing another moan to come from his lips.

“You like that?” You teased, knowing exactly what you were doing by saying that. His eyes widened at your question. That was often something Joe would say during sex, and it always drove you crazy because of how hot he sounded while saying it. Now it was your turn to make him go crazy.

He immediately sat up and reached out for you, grabbing your waist and flipping you over so he was on top. He was still inside you and started to thrust into your wet heat.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly. “It was my turn,”.

“Nope. I wanna make you feel good and that’s my thing,” he said, referring to your teasing while pushing his face into the crook of your neck and sucking on the soft skin. You felt as if you were floating on a cloud of ecstasy. Every caress, every touch, every kiss sent shivers down your spine and made you moan with delight.

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him so you just laid back and let him go at it. You moved your hands into his hair, pulling at the strands so he would move his head from your neck and back to your lips. You pulled him in for a short kiss before you let out another moan. You could feel the pleasure building inside of you, begging to be released.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you whimpered. Joe began pounding into your core, harder and harder with each well-placed thrust. Your breath came out in short gasps as he pushed you deeper into the bed with each strong thrust. You looked down to where you two were connected, watching as Joe’s impressive length left an imprint on your lower belly each time he thrusts into you.

“Just like that,” you moan and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Every thrust caused a wet squelching sound to fill your bedroom along with both your breathy moans.

“You’re so good,” he moaned as he began to slow his thrusts, allowing you to take control once again. You mustered enough energy, grabbed both his upper arms, and pushed him to the side so you were back on top.

“Holy Shit,” he moaned as you started bouncing on his cock. “Fuck, I love you,”.

A smile crept up your face, “I love you,” you moaned as your hands went back to his chest. He began to thrust up into your pussy as you felt your walls begin to tighten around his cock.

“You’re doing so good my love,” He whimpered as his grip on your hips tightened. You leaned down and continued to move your hips, your pace getting faster and faster until you felt the rubber band in your belly snap. “Cum for me baby,” he says, feeling your walls clench around his cock. Your head dropped down to his neck while he continued to thrust into you as you reached your high, his arms wrapping around your back, holding you so incredibly close.

“Joe, F- Fuck,” you whimpered into his ear, feeling your high just as he was about to reach his.

A few rough thrusts later, you felt him shoot his load inside of you, “Fuck, Y/N,” he cried out. You pressed kisses around his collarbone as you lifted your head from the crook of his neck and moved a few of his messy curls out of his eyes. You press a few more kisses around his face before finding his lips and pulling him in for a soft kiss. Both of you spend a few minutes catching your breaths and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. “You are unreal,” he says, giving you a lethargic smile.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you whisper as you drop your head into the crook of his neck.

“That’s always a positive sign that the workout worked,” he laughs.

“Look at us being productive,” you giggled.

“I thought the whole point of this was to not be productive,” He said as his hand slid up and down your back.

“Well, it was. But with us, procrastinating is pretty much impossible. We’re workhorses in our own right. Star QB and multi-award-winning singer-songwriter? Yeah, procrastination is not in our dictionary,” You smile before getting up and carefully moving off of him. He lets out a soft groan as you leave him bare and cold on the bed.

“Mmm, Come back,” he says, making adorable grabby hands towards you.

“Ah ah ah,” you shake your head. “Time to be productive for real, we got a lot to do today,” you say as you throw a towel toward him before grabbing your own.

“Is this an invitation to shower with you?” He hopes.

“Nope,” you laugh. “Give me 15 minutes and then you can go. No funny business for right now,” you wink as you grab some clothes and walk into the bathroom. You shut the door, smiling softly at what your new life was looking like.

Sure you’d miss LA and New York, but it wasn’t goodbye forever. You just needed somewhere grounded where you could spend the majority of your time, and both of those places were definitely not it. You loved those places and everything the cities had to offer, especially for your career, but it just got too suffocating for you. Meeting Joe was like a breath of fresh air you so desperately needed. And now being with him, spending every day with him, felt like a dream.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Joe was staring up at the ceiling. Normally he would do this when he was bored, but this time he wasn’t bored; his thoughts kept him occupied. Thoughts about you, specifically. Now that you had moved in with him, he was giddy at the thought of getting to wake up to your beautiful face every morning and kiss you goodnight every night. He was so excited to be able to have you with him all the time now, getting countless ideas of what you guys could do together around the city and Ohio.

A little later, you come out from the steamy bathroom, drying your wet hair with a towel. Joe was sitting up on the bed, looking through one of your songbooks. He looks up and immediately closes the book as if he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“No no, go ahead,” you giggle as you take a seat on the fluffy ottoman next to the bed, which happens to be one of your many new additions to his home.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” he says.

“You’re not prying, Joe. Besides, if I remember the book correctly, that one is filled with shit about you,” you say as you grab the book and open it up.

“Really?” He says as his face turns red.

“Mhm,” you smile as you flip through the pages.

“So is this where you write your songs?” He asks.

“Mmm, kind of? I consider this as an anything book honestly. There are some pages filled with full verses and songs, but some pages with just 2 lyrics on them and some thoughts,”.

“Ohhh, cool cool,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Here, let me show you,” you say as you get off the ottoman and back onto the bed next to him, opening the book to a few pages.

—

3rd album–

song title: slut!

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

08/03: he just knows exactly how to calm me down when those anxiety inducing thoughts fill my head. he never complains when I shut down, instead he comforts me and tells me it’ll be alright, nobody has ever done that for me. he’s the sweetest boy gentleman I have ever met.

3rd album–

song title: daylight

And I can still see it all (In my mind) All of you, all of me (Intertwined) I once believed love would be (Black and white) But it's golden (Golden) And I can still see it all (In my head) Back and forth from New York (Sneaking in your bed) I once believed love would be (Burning red) But it's golden

12/14: he told me he loved me. and i said it back. everything he touches turns to gold, including me and our love. it’s golden.

3rd album–

song title: I can see you

Chorus: 'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me And I could see you up against the wall with me And what would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you

Bridge: I could see you in your suit and your necktie Passed me a note saying, "Meet me tonight" Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell, yeah And I could see you being my addiction You can see me as a secret mission Hide away and I will start behaving myself

07/05: i met a guy last night.

—

“Damn, that last one was pretty short and simple,” he laughs.

“That’s because those feelings didn’t need to be described in depth. The song pretty much sums up the things that filled my head that night,” You laugh as you close the book and place it back on the nightstand.

“I can see that,” he says, a little shy after reading the things you had said about him. “Someone was a little worked up,” he laughed.

“You mean feeling like I wanted to jump your bones right then and there? Well when I spend the entire party next to this gorgeous, sexy, and hilarious quarterback, that’s a given,”.

You look over at him and see that he’s trying to hold back a huge smile, “Awww, is someone feeling shy?” you tease.

He turns his head to meet your soft eyes, “The way you write about me, about us,” his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so talented. I mean, I’ve never seen anything like this before,”.

Your heart flutters at his praise as you run your fingers over his thigh. “I love you,” you say.

“I love you so much,” he says before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss on your slightly swollen lips.

“So all of those were for the new album?” He asks as he gets off the bed, wandering into the closet to pick out some clothes. He opts for his usual black sweatpants and a white Nike tee.

“Yup,” You say as you get up and walk over to the stack of boxes titled ‘room’. You pulled out a few more picture frames that had photos of you and Joe. You turned around and saw that he already had tons of photos of you both around the room so you weren’t sure where to put yours.

“We can probably put those in the living room if that’s cool with you?” He asks as he walks back out to the bedroom.

“Fair enough, I completely forgot how many photos you had already,” you chuckled.

“Can’t help it, we’re too photogenic and our photos always come out amazing. It just fits. Anyways, back to the album. So should I expect my comment section to be filled with ‘Oh my god is this song about you’ in a few months?” He smiles.

“Probably. It’s been a great 8 months of kinda hiding from the public but I think it’ll be blatantly obvious that we’re together together once I fully pop out at these games and start posting from here,” you giggle.

You and Joe had a pretty private relationship. There was no real confirmation that you two were dating, however, there were rumors and speculation which was a given considering who he was and who you were. You had shown up at the games in January and people did notice, but nobody knew what was going on for sure. Now that you had moved in together, it would become pretty clear to everyone that you both were in a serious and committed relationship and it wasn’t just a momentary fling.

“We’ve hid long enough, besides it’ll be great to actually have you next to me at all the events and stuff from now on. I can’t with the randos trying to flirt with me, they gotta know I’m already spoken for,” he smiles.

“I’ve been looking forward to marking my territory,” you tease. “Anyways, go shower,” you say, lightly pushing his chest.

“Trynna get rid of me?” He teases.

“Mmm not really. Just wanna get the smell of sex off of you,” you laugh.

“Well I’ll be smelling like sex again later,” he says, staring deep into your eyes once again.

“Then we’ll shower again. I’m gonna head downstairs and make some breakfast. You good with smoothies?” you ask as you walk backward to the door.

“Yes ma��am,” he says.

“Perfect,” you smile back.

“Have funnn,” he sing songs before heading into the bathroom.

An hour later, You and Joe are sitting at the kitchen island together, drinking your delicious fruit smoothies, and talking about some more house stuff. The sounds of thunder and heavy rain fill the house as you talk.

“Mmm, this smoothie is so good,” Joe groans. “Your smoothies are always the best,”.

“Thank you,” you say, taking another sip of the fruity beverage.

“So with the house, since I just moved in a month ago, I wanna do some renovations and since we’re living together, I want your input too,” he says, putting his smoothie down.

“Okay, what do you have in mind?”.

“I was thinking we re-do the backyard area in time for summer, maybe add a pool-house and re-do some of the landscaping,”.

“Ooo,” you say. An idea fills your head as you think about the backyard, “Can I plant a garden in the spring?” You ask eagerly.

“Anything you want. It’s your house too,” he smiles.

“Yay! What else do you have in mind?”.

“I was thinking about redoing our bathroom too, just to make it more up to our liking. The same with the basement. I was thinking we could make it into a game room/hangout zone,”.

“That sounds amazing,” you say, finishing up your smoothie. “We can put a bunch of football stuff from over the years down there, put a bunch of cool stuff on the walls, all the game equipment can go down there too,” you say. “Full-on man cave,”. You get up and place your smoothie cup in the sink before walking back over to him, taking a seat on the counter, your legs dangling.

He shakes his head before saying, “Nah, not a man cave. I want you to have your stuff down there too. We can put a bunch of ‘you’ related stuff on the walls too if we’re gonna make a football wall. I was thinking since the basement is absolutely massive, we could build a little home studio for you down there,”.

Your stomach fills with butterflies as your eyes soften. “Really?”.

“100%. Like I said, this is your place too,” he says while getting up and putting his cup in the sink.

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” You said, making grabby hands towards him. He walks over to you as you spread your legs open. He moved in between them as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. His warm body acting has a cozy blanket for you.

“You’ve told me that many times, so yes, but I don’t mind hearing it again,” he laughs. You two are wrapped up in a warm hug, when suddenly a loud bang fills the house, causing you both to jump.

“Mmm, I just love the rain,” you say. It was true though, you loved rainstorms. Something about the pitter-patter of the rain against the windows made you so incredibly relaxed. The gloomy weather was tranquilizing.

“And I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek before moving out of your embrace. “Now let’s go unpack,” he says, putting out his hand to help you off the counter.

You spend the rest of the morning unpacking the last few boxes you had lying around in the living room. A lot of decor and personal additions to the house were left, so you were carefully placing them around the house. The majority of the unpacking of the important things already happened so now you were just finishing up.

“What’s in this box?” Joe asks, tapping the top of it.

“Those might be all my music-related awards and stuff,”.

He grabs the box and walks over to the shelf around the corner without saying anything. You let go of the box you were holding and follow him to see what he was up to.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

You watch as he puts the box on the floor, opens it up, and pulls out a few of your awards.

“Putting them on the special display shelf, obviously,” he laughs.

“But this is yours?” You say looking over at the shelf. This was where Joe displayed all his football accolades. A few football awards from high school, and a bunch from college, including the natty and his ring. Under those was his AFC championship trophy and his Comeback Player of the Year award, the spot next to it was specifically reserved for the Lombardi he’d be looking to add in the next year. A few various awards from other football-related things were also around the case.

“It’s ours,” he corrects, placing your Grammy for Album of the Year on the shelf.

“Right, ours,” you smile. Joe always made sure that you knew that this was all yours just as much as it was his. You were a little hesitant around the house just because you felt that it was his and you were mooching off of him, but he made sure to correct you every time.

You let him decorate the shelf with your various accolades, stepping back and watching him work his magic.

“And I think that should be it,” He said, looking into the box to see if he missed anything. You walked back over to him and hugged him from behind, “It looks great, Joey. Thank You,”.

“You’re welcome, Babe. How many more boxes do we have left?” He asks, walking over to the living room, you still holding on to him and moving with him.

“Mmmm, I think maybe 3 more? The boxes upstairs in your-”.

“Our,” Joe interrupts.

“Sorry, Our Room shouldn’t take that long to unpack since there’s like 4 more boxes with just clothes and some other random things. We can probably do those tonight,”.

“Sounds good. And it looks like we’re almost done over here too,” He says, looking over at the 2 boxes left.

“Yup,” you say while letting go of him. “There’s like 3 more in the basement that we can do after,”.

“If we’re down there, we should play a round of ping pong,” he says, opening up the last two boxes which had a mix of kitchen stuff and living room decorations.

“You’re on, Burrow,” you giggle as you reach over to empty the boxes.

He grabs your hand and softly pushes it away, “I got these. You should find a spot for our sexy photos that we couldn’t fit in our room,” he smiles.

“Sexy? You’re funny,” you laugh as you walk over to the couch to pick up the photos. There were 3 photos you had to find places for.

“But it’s true,” he says while carefully placing a few wall accents around the room. “We’re both hot therefore the pictures are sexy,” he says looking back at you. The first one was a photo of you two from your brother’s Wedding, you both were sitting at the table together hand in hand, a huge grin on your faces from the many cocktails you had, but also because of the pure happiness you felt with each other.

The second photo was taken by your Mom, a sweet and innocent one. You had brought Joe to your family’s house for the first time, a few weeks before the start of the season, and fell asleep in each other’s arms while watching a movie together. Your family had come home to the two of you in your own world, and you remembered a special conversation between you and your Mom about you and Joe.

Flashback to last September

You sat down on the porch chair next to your Mom with a glass of your Mom’s freshly squeezed lemonade, taking a sip of the bitter yet sweet drink. You had been looking forward to some 1 on 1 time with your Mom since Joe had gone out with your Dad and Brother to get stuff for the family get-together party you were having tomorrow night.

“Mmm, just like how I remembered it,” you groan.

“Glad you like it, sweetie,” she smiles, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“It feels good to be home,” you say.

“It’s good to have you home. And it’s great to have Joe here as well. You both looked cozy today,” she smiles.

“Dang, straight to it,” you giggled.

“Well, when I come home to my daughter asleep and cuddling her boyfriend on the couch, looking absolutely lost in their own world, yes I’ll get straight to the point,” she says, patting your thigh.

“And your point is?” You say, taking another sip of your lemonade.

“You look happy. Truly satisfied,” your Mom says, her eyes filled with joy. “The happiest I’ve seen you in a long time,”.

You look down at your hands, fidgeting with the bracelet Joe had given you with both your birthstones on it. “Yeah,” you smile. “I am,”.

“He’s a really nice boy,” she adds. “Very kind, respectful, caring, natural, handsome. You seem so relaxed around him too,”.

“Momm,” you say while covering your face with your hands.

She laughs as she watches you struggle to hide your blush and smile, “But most importantly, he adores you. The way he looks at you reminds me of how your father looked at me when we first started dating. The look of pure & young love,” she says.

“He is great isn’t he?” You say, falling back into your chair and staring up at the blue sky. “He’s like a breath of fresh air on a stuffy humid day. He just gets me on a level no one ever has before and he treats me like I’m the only girl in the world,”.

“I can’t wait to show him around town and do the things I used to do out here with him,” you add.

Your mom stays silent for a few seconds, prompting you to turn your head to face her. “What?” You laugh. “What’s with the stare?”.

“You’re in love,” your Mom teases, giving you a sincere smile.

Your eyes widened as she continued to stare at you. “Mom, we just started dating,” You told her.

“And? What have I told you, Y/N? When you know, you know. We all know and it’s about time you realized it too,” she laughs.

“You just met him this week,” you said, slightly surprised that she was saying all this to you.

“I know but I’ve never seen you this way about a boy before, this time around it’s different. I see the way you look at him and the way he acts around you. It’s extraordinary. None of your previous relationships have had this effect on you. Also, might be my personal bias since we’re a football family, but Joe is my favorite,”.

You stopped to think about what she was saying and she was right about it all. You really haven’t been this way about a boy before. He made you feel things you’ve never felt before and in the short time you’ve been together, he’s made this better than any of your previous relationships. It was a different effect this time, and it was all because of him.

End of flashback

The third photo was from a vacation you took last August to the Florida Keys after you saw your family, you’re both in a hammock on the beach, you are sprawled out on Joe’s large body as his left arm is looped around your bare stomach and his right arm is holding up the vintage camera to take a photo of you both. He’s pressing a kiss onto your cheek as your hands are reaching up to grab the camera. He captured the perfect photo, both of you in your most natural state as you were caught mid-laugh and his lips were pressed against your skin with a smile.

Flashback to the end of October – Bengals bye week

“I needed this,” you sigh as you lean against Joe’s bare chest. You both were curled up together on a hammock on the beach in front of the house Joe had rented for the week. You spent the afternoon in the water together and took a little break before preparing for dinner.

“It was nice that we could do this during the bye. I can’t remember the last time I spent a bye week somewhere other than the couch,” he says, sliding his hand up and down your upper thigh.

“Which, by the way, will change,” you say while looking up at him.

“Well, that’s good. I need more downtime, especially with my favorite person,” he says, pressing kisses to your bare shoulder.

“Joe,” you laugh, throwing your head to the side.

“What?” He says, still pressing kisses along your shoulder and now neck. His arm loops around your waist and moves his fingers around the soft skin of your abdomen.

“That tickles,” you giggle. He begins to move around in the hammock, causing it to swing back and forth. “Joe, we’re going to fall,” you scream.

“I got you,” he assures as he holds you tighter. He reaches down onto the sand to grab the Vintage Camera you’d been using to take pictures during the trip and brings it up to him.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, still laughing because his soft fingers were still moving around your sensitive stomach and that was where you were most ticklish.

“Taking a picture obviously,” he states, turning the camera on with his free hand and turning it to face you.

“Absolutely not! I look like I got hit by a bus,” you say while you try to reach up for the camera but he pulls it away further from you. Of course, he had long arms.

“You look hot,” he says, pressing more kisses along your skin, a huge smile on his face. “This bikini is really making it hard for me to not keep you in bed all day," He couldn’t be happier right now. He was lying on the beach with his adorable, smart, talented, and gorgeous girlfriend. He couldn’t believe that this was real, that you were real. The night you first met, he thought you were a figment of his imagination but that turned out to be false as you were 100% real and 100% stole his heart.

“Lies,” you say while making grabby hands at the camera. He manages to snap a few photos while you’re actively trying to grab the camera out of his hands, but you eventually accept defeat and smile for the camera.

He lowers the camera after a few moments to take a look at the photos, his hand now sliding up and down your belly. He swiped through the first few photos and grinned. “These are perfect,”.

You lifted your head a little higher to get a glimpse of the photos and smiled at the funny yet adorable picture. His lips pressed to your skin, you caught mid-laugh, and an invisible cloud showering you both with love. The photo captured you both in your most natural state and it was beautiful. “Hm, I guess I don’t look that disheveled,”.

“Not at all, but you will later once we’re back in that gigantic bed and under those covers,” he whispers in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

“Oh really?” you ask, turning around in his arms so that your stomach is pressed against his.

“Mhm,” he says as his hand navigates to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Well, we have a little more time till dinner. Why don’t you make me look disheveled so that I can get presentable, and then make me look disheveled again after dinner?” you tease, ending your sentence with a slow and needy kiss. You feel his arms snake around your waist while he moves to get off the hammock. Laughter fills the air as your legs wrap around his body as he gets up off the hammock and carries you inside, your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you soak in the moment.

End of flashback

“Hey, you alright?” Joe asks as he rubs your shoulder from behind you; he snapped you out of your daze which you didn’t know how long you were in.

“Yeah, I was just caught up looking at our sexy photos,” You smile.

“See I told you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Now I just gotta find somewhere to put these,” you say, looking around the room to find a spot.

“Here, let me,” he says, grabbing the photos from your hand. You watch as he places one on the TV table, then one in the kitchen, and places the last one on the table by the door.

“That wasn’t so hard,” you said as you sat on the couch to take a breather.

“Not at all,” he smiles as he takes a seat next to you. He places his arm behind you and his hand rests on your shoulder, running his thumb up and down the side. You drop your head into his chest and snuggle a little closer to him, making his hand move down to your waist.

“You okay?” He asks at the sudden closeness.

You crane your head up, “Mhm, I just wanna be close to you,” you smile as you press a few kisses to his clothed chest.

“Fine by me,” he says softly. “So, you enjoying this so far?”.

“Enjoying what?”.

“Living with me? I hope it’s everything you wanted,” he says.

“It’s everything and even more,” you say, running your fingers across his chest. “I needed somewhere less suffocating and loud, and this is it,”. You lift your leg up and move so you’re in his lap, his hands letting you do what you want before returning to your waist. “I needed somewhere that felt like home and well, home is where the heart is. And my heart is with you,” you say.

He looks at you for a few moments, his heart racing and his smile growing bigger by the second. Joe was so happy that you felt this way with him and was relieved that you didn’t regret your decision. He needed you by his side and you needed him as well.

You had never lived with any of your previous boyfriends, but this time around something was different. It was more promising than your past relationships. Living with him was like putting on the “big girl pants” for real and felt serious. You already knew you both were serious about each other, but this doubled down on that.

He pulls you in for a hug, wrapping his big hands around your waist and pushing your head into the crook of his neck.

“I love you,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your head.

“Love you too,” you laugh.

You stay wrapped up in each other's arms for a few minutes, discussing what you should do for dinner tonight and eventually deciding on cooking together.

“Now let's finish unpacking so we can be free,” you say, moving out of his embrace but still around his hips.

“Orrr, we could stay here? Maybe lose a few clothes while we’re at it,” he smirks.

“Laterrrr. We have a little more to do and then I promise you can do whatever you want,” you say, moving to get off of him.

You watch as Joe throws his head back into the couch cushion and lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Someone’s horny today,” you tease as you walk backward to the basement door.

Joe turns his head to you, seeing you walk away, gets off of the couch, and slowly follows you, “Well when I have this gorgeous, enchanting, kind, adorable, and incredibly sexy girl in my house, it’s kind of hard not to be,”.

You raise your eyebrows as you walk closer to the door, “Damn. Where is she? Must have missed her,” You question as you grab the door handle.

“Right in front of me,” Joe laughs, moving closer. You quickly open the door and run down the stairs, Joe closely running behind you.

“Joe,” you laugh as you run through the basement and try to escape him, but his fast reflexes make it difficult. You make it to the couch in the basement and turn around to see where he is, but bump into his large body in front of you. His hands wrap around your waist and his lips crash down on yours, you melt into the kiss. You always turned into putty when you were in his arms, so this wasn’t new.

His hand travels to your neck, pulling you deeper into the rough yet passionate kiss. You let out a soft whimper when you feel his other hand travel down to the waistband of your shorts, prompting you to pull away.

“Joe, we have a few more boxes,” you pant, breathless from the kiss. You stare at his glossy lips covered in cherry lip gloss, wanting to press your lips against his again but knowing you have things to do.

“10 minutes, please,” he pleads.

You stare at him for a few seconds, watching how impatient he is and feeling a little bad that you made him like this. “Fine, we have all the time in the world for the boxes,” you replied and Joe wrapped his arms around you as soon as you finished talking, launching you both onto the soft couch.

“Joe,” you laughed as he threw the pillows onto the floor. “I don’t know what we’re doing in 10 minutes but have at it I guess,” you giggle.

“10 minutes to make you feel good, obviously,” he scoffs.

“Anddd what about you?” You smile as Joe pulls your shorts down, pressing kisses to your inner thighs.

“Later,” he says as he begins to suck on the plush skin of your upper thigh. You let out a soft moan as you feel his lips on your skin and his hand moving up to cup your breast through your shirt.

He lifts his lips from your thigh and begins to pull your panties down, which happens to be extremely damp. “Damn, wonder what made you so wet?” He smirks.

“He’s sitting right in front of me,” you say as you move up on your elbows, watching him closely.

He flashes you a smile and starts to peel your panties off, taking his sweet time. You fall back against the couch pillows and feel Joe’s hands spread you open a little more. A few seconds later, you feel his tongue lick a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You let out a quiet moan as you push your hand into his hair, pulling on the soft strands. His tongue flicked against your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. You let out a moan as waves of pleasure washed over you, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked his magic on you.

“Please don’t ever stop,” you moan as Joe’s free hand moves under your shirt to cup your breast. He looked up as he continued to use his skillful tongue to send you to heaven, and saw you struggling to keep your eyes open. He moves back down to your folds and all you can hear are wet slurping sounds from below and your breathy moans.

“J- Joe,” you struggled to moan as you were seeing stars.

His hand moves back down to your thigh and down to your leg which he throws over his shoulder. He spends a few minutes fully attacking your soaking folds with kisses and delicate nips, before moving back up to your clit and sucking roughly on the sensitive bud. The movement of his tongue was sending you over the edge.

“Mpmh, Joee,” you moan as your back starts to arch. Joe softly pushes you back down and then you feel one of his fingers enter your core, sending you into overdrive. You feel him pump his finger in and out of your slick core as you continue to moan his name.

“F- Fuck, Y- You’re so good,” you smile as you start to feel the pleasure building in your belly. He looked back up as he continued to please you and saw your content smile. Only he could make you feel like this, and the thought of only him being able to do this to you forever made him even more ravenous. He sucked on your clit even harder and added another finger into your core. You pulled harder on the strands of his hair, earning a grunt from him that sent vibrations throughout your body. Your free hand gripped the couch as you felt like you were floating on a cloud of euphoria.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned. Joe’s hand moved back up to you, searching for your hand. You let go of the couch and grabbed his hand, his fingers entwined with yours.

Your head filled with thoughts of pleasure and the fact that you were the only girl who could make Joe act so lustfully and passionately. He was all yours and you were all his.

And then, with a final flick of his tongue and pump of his fingers, you shattered into a million pieces, your orgasm crashing over you in a wave of ecstasy. You cried out his name over and over as you rode the waves of pleasure, your body trembling with the force of it all.

“Joe, Fuck I- I can’t,” you moaned as your legs shook, not being able to finish the sentence or think about anything.

Joe didn't stop until he had milked every last drop of pleasure from you, his mouth and fingers relentless as they drove you wild with desire. He stayed down for a few more minutes, lapping up the mess you had made, and when he finally pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his face.

You spend a few minutes catching your breath and you recover from your orgasm. Joe went into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to help clean you up, and after that helped you put your shorts back on. He was lying on your chest right now, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and you were twirling his hair with your fingers.

“That was-” you say.

“Intense?” Joe laughs.

“I think intense is too small of a word to describe that,” you snicker.

“Well, whatever it was, it tasted and felt like heaven,” he smiled, pressing a few kisses onto your chest.

“Glad you enjoyed it as well. But I think it’s time to do what we actually came down here for,” you say as you slowly move back up on the couch.

“I think I agree with you this time. We still have to play that round of ping pong,” he says as he gets off of you.

“I hope you’re ready to get your ass kicked, Burrow,” you tease as you start to stand up, feeling the aftermath of both what happened this morning and what happened just now. You started to walk towards the boxes, an evident limp in each step, and Joe noticed and walked over to you immediately.

“Hey, Hey, take it easy. I can unpack the boxes, you go sit on the couch,” he says as he rubs your arm.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Absolutely. Just direct me to where you want everything and relax,” he smiles.

You walk back over to the couch, grab a throw blanket, and get comfy as you watch him open the boxes.

“I was thinking that those two walls over there can be the personal accomplishment type walls we were talking about earlier,” you point out.

“Ooo, I like that. Both are facing each other so it’s perfect,” Joe says as he puts your Nintendo Switch right next to his on the game console table.

“I can work on that later. But I was thinking for yours, we hang up each of your 4 Jerseys, Athens, OSU, LSU, and the Bengals, and put stuff from each era on a little table underneath the jerseys. Maybe even hang up a few photos,” you say as Joe continues to unpack the boxes.

“Interior designer also on your resume?” He says, looking up at you with a smile.

“Maybeee,” you grin.

Joe continues to unpack the rest of the boxes, and you direct him to where you think the various pieces of decor and knick-knacks should go. He leaves 1 box alone as it has a lot of your awards, music memorabilia from over the years, and other career-related items. He said that he would use this to build your little wall of accomplishments, insisting that you two do each others.

“Is it finally time for Ping Pong?” You smile as you look over and see Joe grabbing the paddles and the balls.

“Hell yeah,” he smiles. You get up from the couch and make your way over to the table. “You’re on,” you say, getting your game face ready.

A few minutes later, you and Joe are caught up in an intense game of ping pong. You started off pretty calm and relaxed, softly hitting the ball back and forth. Until Joe decided to trash talk and try a trick shot on you, sending the ball on the side you weren’t standing on, allowing him to score.

“I am not about to lose,” you said as you slammed the ball back onto Joe’s side of the table, but he still managed to get to it and bounce it back.

“I never lose,” he shrugs as he launches it back to you.

Joe's reflexes were too much for you to beat as he always managed to hit the ball and make you miss. But you resorted to certain tactics that caused him to miss occasionally, a teasing glance or occasional trash talk that got him worked up. Joe was very good at ping pong, no doubt about that. But ever since you met, he managed to teach you all the ins and outs of the fun game and made you a better player than you were before. Whenever you two would hang out, whether it was in LA, New York, or Cincy, you managed to end up at a ping pong table, playing your favorite game.

“Ya know, for a man that usually wants to be the best at everything he does, you’re not trying hard enough to be best at this it seems,” you tease, hitting the ball back to him. Your trash talk causes him to look at you and miss the ball completely.

“Fuck,” he whispers, picking up the ball off the floor.

The score was neck and neck a few minutes later and you were still going at it and no sign of stopping in sight.

“Just give up, Y/N” he smiles. “We’re going to be here all evening,” he says, hitting the ball back over.

“Fine by me. I’m not losing, I told you,” you say hitting it back over the net.

By the time the final round of the game rolls around, you’re fully locked in and determined to beat him. You attempt to recreate Joe’s trick shot, and you succeed, causing Joe to be slightly taken aback. The ball flies at his side of the table hard and fast, completely missing Joe and his paddle, and you get the final score.

You throw your paddle down onto the table and jump up and down, “I told youuuuuuu,” you yell. “Guess you do lose,” you tease, pointing at him and laughing.

Joe drops his head in defeat and softly laughs. “Damn, using my own move against me,” he says.

“You did teach me everything I needed to know to be good at ping pong,” you shrug. “You created your own competition,”.

“That I did,” he sighs.

A little later

After your game of ping pong, you head back upstairs, the storm from this morning still raging outside, even harder than before, causing darkness to flood through your home.

“Damn, it’s dark as hell up here,” you say, walking over to the patio door to take a peek at the storm.

“Looks like it’ll be storming all night,” Joe says as he checks the weather on his phone.

“We should probably get to making dinner then, just in case the power decides to go out,” you say, turning around and walking to the kitchen.

“Good idea,” he says, following you into the kitchen.

You switch on a few of the lights and get to work. You had decided on making Chicken Parmesan with garlic bread. Joe wasn’t much of a cook, but he would try to help you whenever you decided to make something. For tonight, you left him in charge of marinating the chicken and grilling them on the stove while you made the sauce and boiled the pasta. He walked over to his phone, connected it to the speaker, and played some music to lighten the mood while you were cooking.

A half-hour later, the chicken is grilled and the sauce is made. All that was left was the pasta to be done boiling and the garlic bread you just popped into the oven to be ready.

You walked over to the pot of pasta, stirring it around as you heard the song change to “Real Love Baby”, one of your favorite love songs in the entire world. Joe looked up from the chicken that he was putting the finishing touches on, realizing that one of your favorite songs was playing, and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. You smile as you feel his warm body pressed against yours.

“Our hearts are free, so tell me what’s wrong with the feeling,” he says in your ear.

“I’m a flower, you’re my bee,” he says, swaying you back and forth.

“What’re you doing,” you laugh as you turn around in his arms.

“Singing, duh,” he deadpans. “You’re not the only one with the vocals,” he says while grabbing your hand and leading you to the open area by the dining table.

“Dance with me,” he says.

You raise your eyebrow at him, slightly confused since he rarely slow dances with you. “Are you sure?” You asked.

“100%,” he says, pulling you into him and resting his hands on your lower back while you're wrapped around his neck.

“I want real love baby, oooh don’t leave me waiting,” he sings, swaying you back and forth. Your heart feels like it’s about to explode as you hear him singing a song that is so special to you.

“I’ve got real love maybe, wait until you taste me, I want real love baby,” you sing back, staring lovingly into his soft eyes.

“There’s a world inside me, got the preacher's music, just it for a minute and gone,” he sings back, taking your hand and giving you a little twirl. You felt at ease in the moment. It was just you and your boyfriend dancing around in your home, away from prying eyes and interlopers’ glances. A special memory just for the two of you to forever remember.

You sway around to the song for a few more moments, laughing at the scene and softly pressing kisses on each other's lips. “I’m in love, I’m alive, I belong to the stars and sky,” you say, singing one of the last lines of the song before pressing another kiss to his lips.

As the song ended, you wrapped your arms around his neck a little tighter and stuffed your head into the crook of his neck. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

“For what?” He asked, rubbing your back slowly.

“Dancing with me. That was romantic and sweet,” you smile against his neck.

“I should do that more often then,” he smiles.

You lift your head out of his neck and press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re romantic enough, trust me. It’s just nice to have these spontaneous moments of intimacy. Keeps me on my toes,” you giggle, walking over to take the garlic bread out of the oven and turning the stove off.

“Well, another spontaneous moment is on its way. Why don’t we eat dinner at a candlelit table? I have some candles in the cabinet I can set up,” he says as he goes over to the drawer to take out a few candles.

You shake your head, heart fluttering at his sweet gestures and ideas, and shoot him a grin. “Sounds perfect,”.

Joe was always doing little things like this throughout your relationship and you adored it. Whether it would be random flower deliveries to your house or thoughtfully planned dates, he always managed to go above and beyond for you whether it was random or well-planned gestures. He wasn’t like any other guys you dated. The tough shell he had on the outside was not at all like who he was deep down, and you were lucky enough to see it all the time.

You plate dinner as Joe gets the table ready, lighting a few candles around the table and turning the lights off when you sit down. The warm glow of the candle made a cocoon around you two, protecting you from the darkness that flooded your surroundings.

“You’re too far away,” Joe says as he looks at you from across the table. He takes his chair and scooches it around so that he is sitting next to you, rather than across.

“That’s better,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you pick up your fork and dig into the delicious food.

“Mmm, you did so good with this chicken,” you point out. “Can’t cook my ass,” you laugh as you take a sip of your water.

“I learned a thing or two from you,” he says, taking another bite of the pasta.

“Mm, well whatever you learned paid off because damn, this is good,” you say, chewing on the well-seasoned and cooked meat. You grab your glass of water, take a sip of the cool beverage, and remember something you wanted to talk to Joe about.

“So this is my first official official off-season with you,” you say, putting down your water and looking up at him.

“Yes it is,” he says, putting his fork down and looking at you.

“So how does this work? Since usually I’m not with you for the entirety of the time you have off”.

“Usually I have some training during the early months and some events to go to each month. OTA’s are in May, but we have time before that and camp,” he replied.

“Ah, right right,” you nod.

“Since you’re with me now, you’re definitely coming to the events with me,”.

“I’d love to. Someone has to keep you company,” you say, grabbing his hand and rubbing the soft skin.

“For real. I hate going to like half the events I need to go to because I don’t like talking to randos for hours on end. If you’re there, I can just stick with you for the entire event,” Joe laughs.

“I’ll have to come up with an escape route for each occasion,” you joke.

He lets out a soft laugh before continuing the conversation, “We’ll be taking obvious trips to LA and New York so you can do your thing and I also have training in LA so it works out. As for vacations, we should prob get on planning those out,” he adds. “I was thinking of a trip to the Keys like we did last year, while we’re in LA we can rent a house in Malibu for a little, and I was thinking we go to Italy in April for a week and maybe Greece if you’re down,”.

You stay quiet for a few moments, still processing how he’s already thought everything out. Joe didn’t really go out of the country for vacations, and you’d learned that about him pretty early on. So him suggesting these vacations to you took you by surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise.

He notices your wandering facial expression and your quietness. “You alright?” He asks, sitting up in his chair.

“I’m amazing and this all sounds like a dream,” you smile. “You’ve really thought everything out, especially with these trips. I didn’t think you’d wanna go somewhere so far,”.

He pauses for a few seconds to collect his thoughts, “Now that you’re in my life, I want everything to be well thought out and serious. I love you a lot and I want you to be as happy as humanly possible,” he says, his body language telling you everything you needed to know. “You like traveling and I don’t want you to give that up for me. Maybe I just needed the right person to go with to enjoy it, and who better than my favorite person,”.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode into a pile of pink dust at the thought of how much he cared about what you wanted. “I think if I was happier than I already am, I would actually explode,” you joke. “But seriously, this is perfect,” you say looking around the room. “This house, this dinner, these vacations, and you,”.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he says. His eyes are filled with joy and adoration. Joe was truly happy with you and you with him. None of his previous relationships had made him feel so complete and comfortable. Something about you made him see what forever could look like, and he loved what it looked like.

After a few more minutes of talking about off-season plans, you both wrap up your dinner, you blow out the candles and Joe clears the table. You put the leftovers in the fridge as Joe loads the dishwasher. After you’re done, you’re standing in the kitchen, the look on your faces mirroring the tension that was building in the room.

“Soooo, whatcha wanna do now?” Joe asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Hmm, I know it’s night time but people workout at night right?” You innocently tease.

“You wanna hit the gym? Right now?” He asks, very confused.

“Not that kinda gym silly,” you say as you walk closer to him. “I think we should go to the gym upstairs, ya know the one with the comfy bed? I think we need to do another rep of our favorite workout,” you tease as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Ohhhh,” he realizes as a smirk appears on his face. “I think you’re right. I’d hate to miss a workout. It’s not good to break routine,” he says as his hands move down to cup your ass.

“Well then, let’s get to it,” you say as Joe hoists you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist.

Joe’s soft lips meet yours in a fiery and sloppy kiss as he starts to lead you to the stairs, but you pull away so he can see them and not fall because you were kissing him. You move down to his neck and start to suck on the soft skin, marking him up and leaving a few pretty purple spots that’ll be visible in a few hours.

You’re so caught up in pressing kisses on his neck that you don’t even notice that you’ve made it into the bedroom. “Wait, I didn’t change the sheets from this morning,” you say, moving back into his view. Your fingers find themselves in his hair again, softly scratching his scalp.

“Already ahead of you,” He laughed. “I changed them after I showered,”.

“Could you be more perfect,” you ask, pulling him into another heated kiss, one you both grin into. He lowers you down onto the soft sheets before pulling away to take his shirt and sweats off. “Damn, straight to it?” you question.

“I need you so yes, straight to it,” he says, giving you a heated look. He threw his clothes to the side and kneeled on the bed so that he was hovering over you. You let out a squeal as Joe quickly pulled your shorts and panties down, throwing them to the side along with your shirt which you had been in the process of removing.

He leaned down and started pressing kisses along your collarbone, cupping your breast through your bra at the same time. “Mmm, Joe,” you moan, your eyelashes fluttering as you struggle to compose yourself.

His hand navigates further down as he ghosts his fingers over your soaking folds, teasing your clit while he continued to kiss your collarbone. “Joe, I need you so bad,” you whispered, squirming in your bed in an attempt to find pleasure.

He lifts his head from your neck and gets off of you, leaving you cold and bare. “Take it off,” he nods, referring to your bra.

You quickly reach for the clasp and unhook it, slipping off the straps and throwing it to the side. You feel his intense and lustful eyes looking you up and down, the only thought in his head was that you were the hottest and most angelic girl he had ever seen.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers. You immediately reach back out for him and cup his face, pulling him back down so he is once again on top of you. Your mouths moved at a relentless pace, kissing each other hungrily as his hand cupped your breast again. “Joe,” you moaned as you threw your head back into the pillow, breaking away from the kiss.

He moved down, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses in between your breasts and all around your belly, which as he knows, is where you’re most ticklish.

“Joe,” you laughed as he continued to press kisses all along your stomach. “Something wrong?” He asked in between kisses. All you could respond with was continuous laughter and squeals, making him oh so incredibly happy.

After he finished attacking your stomach with kisses, he moved back up to your lips, pressing his against yours again. He sucked on your top lip and you could feel his erection poking at your thigh.

“Mmm,” you moaned into the kiss. You could feel the cold air of the room against your core, which was soaking with your arousal, just begging to be attended to. His hand gripped your waist tightly, almost as if he was never going to let go.

He could feel your impatience by the way you were kissing him and squirming underneath his hold, and it was driving him crazy. He pulled away from the kiss and looked you in your soft eyes before moving back down to your neck, this time sucking the spot under your ear that drove you mad.

“Shit,” you whimpered. He moved to gently nip your earlobe before moving up and whispering, “You might not be able to walk after this,” into your ear.

You bit your lip as he went back to kissing the spot under your ear. He was driving you insane with every kiss, every touch, every word that came out of his mouth.

“I look better and feel better when I’m well-fucked anyways,” you boldly replied, causing him to immediately come out from your neck.

“Oh really?” He says as you stare at his swollen red lips.

“Mhm, something about the endorphins, oxytocin, and post-sex afterglow I get just works for me,” you smirk.

“The afterglow part for sure,” he says as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Not sure about the hormone part since that part should be in you,”.

“You know what else should be in me?” you smirk as you brush his unruly curls out of his eyes.

“What?”.

“You,” you say, pressing a sweet kiss to his nose.

He lets out a chuckle, “She knows what she wants,”.

“Damn right, she does,” you say, moving your arm to the side to dim the lamp a little.

Joe slowly lines himself up with your slick core, one hand guiding himself and the other on your waist. You feel a little pressure down below as he starts to slide in. You were still a little sore from this morning and from earlier, so a little pain was still present. He noticed you wince a little and immediately stopped.

“No, No, keep going,” you moaned.

“If it hurts at all, just tell me to stop. I don’t want to hurt you,” he coos.

“I’m fine,” you smile as you lift your legs to wrap around his waist, pushing him in closer.

He gives you a nod as he continues to slide into you until he reaches your hilt. “Joe,” you moaned as you turned your head to the side, closing your eyes because of the slight sting.

Joe snapped his hips forward, causing you to turn your head back to face him. The first thrust being so hard took you by surprise. He set a relentless pace early on as he pounded into your core, countless whimpers and moans leaving both your lips.

“Fuck, Joe,” you screamed as he continued to fuck you senselessly. The pain you felt for a few seconds turned into pleasure, all because of him.

“Baby, you feel so good,” he groaned as each thrust shook your body. Sounds of skin hitting skin filled the room and you two felt yourselves getting lost in each other. With every thrust, he moved deeper and deeper into your core, his cock slamming against your cervix, making you moan with delight.

“Right there,” you smile, closing your eyes and letting him work his magic.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. You started to buck your hips against him, matching the pace of his rough thrusts. Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, your fingers scratching his back which was surely leaving red marks. One of his hands cupped your breast, his thumb rubbing circles around your nipple.

“J- Joe,” you whimpered. “I love you,” you moaned as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His grip on your waist became tighter as his other hand moved to the other side, now gripping you fully. He lowered his head, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, but he breaks away when he feels you clench around his cock, signaling you were close.

“God, you are unreal,” he moans.

“I’m so- I’m so close,” you struggled to say. Your legs started to burn as he continued to thrust into you, sweat dripping from both of your foreheads.

“Cum for me, Baby,” he says as he ruthlessly slams into your core, your entire body moving against the bed as he took control. At this point, there was not a single thought in your head and you were quite literally being fucked stupid by your boyfriend. A few seconds later, you felt the band in your belly snap as you clenched around his cock. You tugged at the strands of his hair as you came around him as he was still pumping into you.

“Joe!” you screamed into his neck as you rode out your high. A few more breathless moans escaped your lips as you felt the aftershocks of your orgasm. He kept pumping into you, reaching his climax a few moments later. He gripped your thigh with his right hand, his left still on your waist, as he filled you with hot spurts of his cum.

“Y/N..” he whimpered, stuffing his face into your neck. Your hands rubbed his lower back as he slowed his thrusts, pumping every last bit of cum into you before collapsing next to your tired body. His arm layed across your belly, holding you close, as you spent a few seconds catching your breaths. You stared up at the bedroom ceiling, a content smile on your face as you realized that you were in your shared bedroom right now, in your shared home, and with the love of your life wrapped around you. This really was your life, and it was better than you could have ever imagined.

“I love you so much,” he panted, breaking the silence.

You turned your head to meet his tired yet still filled with love eyes, “I love you even more,”.

An hour later, you both are wrapped up together in the bathtub, soaking up the warm and soothing water.

“This feels soooo good,” you say as you lean back against his chest. “I seriously don’t think I can walk so you might have to carry me out of here like you carried me in,”.

“Sorryyy,” he laughs, pressing kisses to the back of your shoulder. "At least the post-sex afterglow is doing its thing,".

"All thanks to you," you smile.

"Still, Sorry," he says, taking his hand and threading it through his hair.

“It’s okay, I know you always live up to your word, and you did say I wouldn’t be able to walk after that sooo,” you shrug.

“Live up to my word?” he questions.

“Mhm,” you reply, looking up at him. “You told me when we met that this was going to be different, and it is. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, and you lived up to your word by making sure that we were different than the other relationships we both had,”.

“Go on,” he says, rubbing your arm.

“You told me that we would do this on our own terms, and we have. The public barely knows about us and you built a wall that shields us from everyone’s unwanted opinions, you lived up to your word,”.

“Y/N-,” he started to say. Joe was melting at your words. Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did and the way you spoke about him assured him that you felt exactly as he did. He truly loved you more than anything.

“And then you told me you loved me, and you’ve shown me that every single day I have spent with you. And now I get to feel that and see that every day. You lived up to your word,” you finished.

Suddenly, you felt his arms wrap around your waist and flipping you around so your legs were settled around him. He pulls your head into his neck and presses delicate kisses to your forehead.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says with each kiss.

“I love you too,” you giggle. “I can’t wait for more days like this with you. This is everything I’ve ever wanted and more,”.

“I’m glad I could give it to you,” he says.

You fall into his chest as his arms settle around your waist, holding you close to him. You spend a few minutes in that position, hearing each other’s heartbeats and pressing delicate kisses to each other’s skin.

“You’re the best boyfriend in the entire world,” you say.

“It’s easy to be the best boyfriend when I have the best girlfriend in the world,” he smiles.

There was no place you’d rather be right now than here. You were happy, you felt at home, and you were in love. And you would get to feel the same thing the next day, and every day after that.

–The End–

Part 3

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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munson-blurbs · 1 year ago

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 2 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, difficulty conceiving, mention of pregnancy symptoms, lots of Eddie being a mush

WC: 1.5k

February 1999

You didn’t get pregnant that first month. Your period arrived unceremoniously, leaving in its wake blood-stained underpants and disappointment.

It didn’t happen in December or January, either, despite meticulous cycle tracking and Eddie barely keeping his hands off of you. Each negative test feels like a failure; you’ve stopped taking them when Eddie’s around because you can sense his disappointment, though he puts on a brave face to comfort you.

But now, you’re late. Only by two days–if you weren’t paying careful attention to the dates, you might not have noticed. You have to bite back a smile as you tear open the box, fingers trembling as you poorly contain your excitement. It might be nothing, just a period ironically delayed by stress of trying to conceive.

Or you might be pregnant.

You inhale, filling your lungs with air and holding it there for a while until you let it out in one strong breath. All you’re doing is peeing on a stick, but your body nervously buzzes with each passing second. You’ve likely taken a dozen of these by now, and there’s nothing that should make you think you’ll get a different result today.

With utmost care, you place the used test on the back of the sink and wash your hands. You keep pressing on the soap handle to the point where a small pool forms in your palm, but you can’t draw your gaze from the tiny result window. The control line begins forming quickly, as it always does.

How long ago did Eddie leave to grab breakfast—maybe ten minutes? Sundays at Zeke’s Bagels are usually swamped, so you have plenty of time to wipe away your tears if that sacred second line never appears.

“Mommy?”

A drowsy voice interrupts your inner monologue. Harris stands at the bathroom doorway, wiping the sleep from his big brown eyes and yawning.

“What’s up, Har?” You hope your anxiety doesn’t bleed through, though you doubt he’s awake enough to recognize it.

He squints as he adjusts to the light. “Where’s Daddy? Also, I’m hungry.”

A sigh of relief escapes you when you realize he’s too focused on breakfast to pay attention to anything else. “Daddy left to get us some bagels,” you explain, allowing your heart to slow to a normal rate. “Why don’t you go make your bed, and we can watch some cartoons while we wait for him, okay?”

Harris nods, barely picking up his sock-clad feet as he trudges back towards his bedroom. You giggle at the way he tries to fight his sleepiness, shaking your head in amusement.

That’s when you see it, faint but still definitely present: the tell-tale second pink line.

“Oh my God.” Your hand flies to your mouth in complete shock, tears forming a film over your eyes so the results become blurred. You blink them away to get a better look, partially convinced that you’re hallucinating or projecting your hopes, and that reality will set in and show a negative result.

But when your vision clears, both lines are still visible.

You’re pregnant.

Now you just have to tell your husband; the question is, how?

You’re still mulling over the possibilities when the key clicks in the door ten minutes later. Eddie carries in a brown paper bag of bagels, whistling a tune that startles you from your thoughts.

“Food’s here!” Eddie calls out; your stomach flip-flops at the sound of his voice. The temptation to let giddiness take over and wave the test in his face is strong, but you hold yourself back. First and foremost, you don’t want Harris knowing until you’re safely in the second trimester, but another part of you is still in denial that you truly are pregnant. That there’s a tiny little life growing within your womb, half you and half Eddie.

I’ll test again in a few days, you tell yourself, and if it’s still positive, then I’ll tell him.

You shove the test in the top drawer among your make-up and hair care products where it will be safe from your husband’s wandering eyes. Before you shut off the light, you get a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You look the same as you always do, but there’s no denying that you feel different.

Pregnant. You’re pregnant with Eddie’s baby. In approximately nine months, the Munsons will be a family of four.

“Mommy! Daddy’s home!”

“Coming!” You wipe away any remaining tears and make your way to the kitchen, trying to quell the excitement of knowing that you’re technically eating for two.

Breakfast drags a bit, both because of the weighty secret you’re guarding and the fact that cream cheese apparently now makes your nose wrinkle in disgust, but Harris’s animated storytelling makes the time pass a bit faster. Apparently, being seven years old is more dramatic than you’d remembered.

One particular story involving Harris, Joshua Harrington, and a celery-stick sword fight remains etched into your brain even as you brush bagel crumbs off of the table and into your cupped palm. Harris has plunked down in front of the television, gaze glued to a show about a conjoined cat and dog with screeches so grating that you find yourself wincing with each piece of dialogue. The distraction is enough to keep you from tuning into Eddie rummaging through the bathroom drawers, searching for the nail clippers.

“Um, babe?” His voice cracks on the second word, and you can sense both confusion and concern in his tone. “C-Can you come here? Now?”

Oh, shit.

You dash into the bathroom, shrinking into yourself when you find him, one hand bracing his body weight on the sink and the other clutching a very positive pregnancy test.

“Are…is this…” He turns to you, wide-eyed, lower lip quivering. “When…?”

“Right before breakfast,” you jump in, your pinky finger nudging his along the sink’s edge. “I wanted to do something special to surprise you after I took another one later this week, y’know, just to be sure.”

Eddie exhales a breath that’s half-laugh and half-cry, lowering the test to the ceramic ledge so he can place both hands on your cheeks. “You’re pregnant?” he asks, words thick with disbelief. He chuckles when you nod, head moving up and down between his calloused palms. “Holy shit; you’re having my baby.”

His mouth finds yours in an instant, fingers leaving your face and traveling to your waist. Eddie pulls you in close and punctuates the long kiss with several little pecks.

“My gorgeous girl is having my baby,” Eddie murmurs, gently sinking to his knees so he’s eye-level with your stomach. It’s still far too early to be showing, but he still bunches up your shirt just above your belly button. You giggle when he presses his lips against your skin, an involuntary ticklish reaction. “I just…I’m so happy. I got kinda worried when it wasn’t happening, that something was wrong.” He looks up at you with an expression of relief and awe. “We’re having a baby, Sweetheart.” His thumb trails along your exposed flesh, the place where your child will develop over the next nine months.

You laugh, pulling him up so you can kiss him again. He tastes like the orange juice he’d drank with breakfast, sweet and tangy. “We should wait to tell people until a doctor confirms it,” you murmur as he rests his forehead on yours. “Let it just be our little secret for now, okay?”

Eddie nods, lips occupied with kisses that render him unable to speak for a minute. “I’m glad I found out when I did, to be honest,” he admits with a small smile. “I missed so much of this with Harris, and I wanna be part of everything with this little munchkin.”

“Everything?” you ask suspiciously. “The morning sickness, the mood swings, the swollen feet? I’m pretty sure my mom got hemorrhoids when she was pregnant with me–”

“Everything,” Eddie affirms, lacing his fingers with yours. “The good, the bad, and the…hemorrhoid-y.”

You can’t hold back your amusement, throwing your head back with laughter. “I’m holding you to that.”

But you know you won’t need to, because this is Eddie, and the love he already has for this child radiates off of him.

He wraps you in a warm embrace, holding you around your shoulders so that his soft arm hair brushes the nape of your neck. He keeps you safe in his arms while you keep the baby safe in your womb.

In a little while, a commercial will interrupt Harris’s TV show. He’ll come running over to exclaim that he needs the toy being advertised, despite having a present-filled birthday just three weeks ago, and the Munson home will return to its definition of normalcy. For now, you and Eddie relish in this special moment, just the two of you and the tiny bean that is Baby Munson.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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spencereidluver · 3 months ago

Text

P is for Perfect

february 04, 2009

summary: You and Spencer bake cookies together

word count: 1.1k

warnings: an insane amount of fluff. like maybe call your dentist before reading

“It doesn’t have to be exact, Spence,” you giggle and playfully knock your hip into him. Spencer stood over the counter, a kitchen scale, butter knife, measuring cup, and bag of flour beneath him. He was meticulously measuring the exact amount of flour. You couldn’t help but smile at him, so smart, but so oblivious to the leniency in the world of baking.

Spencer looks up at you, his lips curing into a shy smile. “I know, but I want them to be perfect.” He finally levels out the flour and dumps it into the metal bowl. “Baking is a science, after all.”

You laughed and shook your head. “It’s more of a chemistry I think. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it’s okay to just have fun.”

His eyes soften as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I am having fun. Especially because I get to make them with you.”

You can’t help but fall into his touch when such sweet words are leaving his lips. His smug smile makes you want to collect yourself though, not wanting to give in to his cockiness. “Alright then, Dr. Reid, these better be the best damn cookies to ever enter my mouth.”

You and Spencer continue to mix the ingredients. His attention to detail and your more relaxed approach meshed perfectly. Always a perfect duo, you and Spencer were. Whether it be your brains on a case, your love for one another, or apparently, your baking skills.

You poured in the chocolate chips directly from the bag, a clear overshot of the recommended amount. You turned around to toss the empty bag in the garbage, but apparently, you were much faster at this than Spencer thought you’d be.

“Stealing ingredients now, are we?” you ask him, catching him red handed popping a small handful of chocolate chips in his mouth.

Spencer grinned mischievously as he chewed. “Well if you’re going to add three times the amount the recipe calls for surely a few can be spared.” He giggles and grabs another chocolate chip from the bowl. “Here, have one,” he holds it up to your lips.

You open your mouth allowing for him to gently place it on your tongue. You lock eyes, his filled with a sweetness that went beyond the chocolate. You lean in and kiss him, tasting the lingering chocolate on his lips. He hovers over your shoulder as he watches you scoop the dough into small balls on the baking sheet, reaching around your waist to put the pans in the oven. He sets the oven timer before turning to you and pulling you into his arms.

Spencer stood there holding you for several minutes. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and pressed his body firmly against yours. You held him silently, unable to speak even if you wanted to. Your face was pressed to his chest, fingers rubbing his back gently. He was in a t-shirt, which was quite rare for him as usually if he wasn’t in his work attire he was either in his pajamas or cozied up in a sweater.

He lifts his head from your shoulder, arms still wrapped around you. “I never thought I’d find someone like you,” he whispers. His gaze is so adoring.

“And I can’t believe I found you,” you say as you place a hand on his cheek.

He rests his hand atop yours, fingers between your knuckles. “I love you Y/n,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer with the arm still around your waist.

“Spencer, I love you so much,” you respond. You pull him down and nuzzle his nose in an eskimo kiss, which causes him to giggle. “But we should clean up before the cookies are done.”

“Do you think we can get it done in the four minutes and fifty-seven seconds left on the oven timer?” He asks, stepping away from you and running water from the sink over a cloth.

He rings the rag out and tosses it at you, leaving the water running and adding soap to the sink. He begins taking the dishes over as you wipe the countertops.

You notice a small glob of dough on the edge of the stovetop and collect it on your index finger. Turning around to face the sink- and Spencer’s back- you tap his shoulder with your clean hand. He notices the cheeky grin on your face which causes him to smile as well.

“I got something for you,” you say, bringing your finger up to his face and smearing the dough on his nose.

“Hey, no fair!” he playfully pouts. “My hands are wet, I can’t get it off!”

“Aw, isn’t that unfortunate,” you grin, turning back around to finish cleaning the counters.

beep

You dropped the rag on the counter and slid an oven mitt over your hand. You sat the fresh cookies on the stovetop, stopping the timer and turning off the oven as you did so.

The smell of fresh cookies filled Spencer’s apartment; if they weren’t clearly piping hot, they’d all be gone right this moment. You approach Spencer who was nearing the last of the dishes and lean your head onto his shoulder.

“Well well well,” you say, “what do we have here, slowpoke?”

“I could’ve been done in time if you wouldn't have distracted me,” Spencer argues.

“You can tell yourself that, pretty boy,” you say and plant a kiss on the underside of his jaw.

You transferred the warm cookies into a container and brought the baking sheet- the final dish- over to Spencer. He quickly scrubs it, then dries his hands.

He gives a satisfied sigh. “Alright,” he says, placing a hand on your lower back to direct you to the stove with him. “Ready to try them?”

He picks one up from the container and breaks it in half, handing you the slightly larger piece. He watches as you take a bite from the corner, anticipating your reaction.

“These are really good,” you say, taking another bite. He takes his first, nodding in agreement as the flavor sets in.

“Dare I say perfect?” He says, a nod to your earlier comment about them not needing to be.

“They are,” you agree. “Probably because of me.” You smile at him.

“Oh whatever,” he says with a sassy tone, rolling his eyes as he takes another cookie from the bowl.

____

next chapter: in progress

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version!

____

a/n: this part is kind of just a filler lil blurb. im working on some larger story elements, and am writing a part that actually takes place within an episode of the show with y/n written in as a character. assuming that part does well, i’ll probably be doing some more of those because its actually a ton of fun. anyways thank you all for the suggestions and support!!

read this for information regarding my use of the term “eskimo kiss” in this part

____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

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taglist:

@justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @navs-bhat @sammy-4103 @ada--44 @moongirl27

@hopelessheaven @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @violetvsworld @ivyflowers13 @taygrls

@hookergutss @random-3455 @nmw-am @bookworm124 @hizzielover @jem08

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jaywaslost · 8 months ago

Text

Five Times Winnie Wanted to Confess, One Time Augustine Did

—

This has been in my docs done for ages I just never got around to posting it, written during a Cold Front obsession phase

Do excuse me if they're out of character or if I messed up any dates, I can't remember them all perfectly— Anyways, Enjoy!

Sypnosis: The first time Winnie realized he was in love was at the tender age of 12.

He hadn’t expected to think of that at all really, especially not at 4 in the morning of all times.

Word count: 8.9k

The first time Winnie realized he was in love was at the tender age of 12.

He hadn’t expected to think of that at all really, especially not at 4 in the morning of all times.

The date on his phone read February 14th, 20xx. He didn’t know why he was still awake, but something in him absolutely refused to get a wink of sleep, quite different to usual. On a normal day he was asleep by 11 maximum, with the exception of the first few days after moving away from his home (his mother was very concerned, he still remembers how she’d check on him during the night to see if he was sleeping or not. He’d pretend to the best of his ability until she left before he returned to wallowing in his sorrows again.).

Scrolling on his phone seemed to be the only form of entertainment at the time, if he got out of bed his parents would realize he was awake and he really didn’t feel like getting another lecture. He didn’t have any homework to busy himself with, nor did he really feel like looking for something else. Messaging Augustine had come to mind, but there was no doubt he was asleep at this time.

The other was stubborn, especially when it came to him staying up on weekends, but he never usually made it past 2. He would also sleep in until around 1PM every time he tried to be stubborn and stay awake longer and get scolded about it when he woke up, punished with doing extra chores. On those days he wouldn’t stop complaining about it, saying he was ‘a big boy now’ and that ‘it’s not fair others get to stay awake and get away with it!’. He couldn’t help finding his friend’s enraged expressions funny.

The blond didn’t end up saying anything so as not to wake him up, they could probably talk in the morning, anyway. With nothing better to do, he scrolled through anything he could find trying to distract himself or become tired enough to sleep and get the rest he needed.

When his eyes finally started to get heavier, he noticed a website that caught his attention. It was something posted merely moments ago, titled something along the lines of what to do on valentines day for your loved ones or whatever (he was too tired to process it properly). Out of curiosity, his fingers glided over the link to open it.

It was too late for him to process most of the words, but what stood out was the beginning of the article. It was nothing special, only the typical explanation of what the day is and why it's considered special, but his eyes lingered on a single phrase. ‘Valentine's day was a special occasion for everyone, the perfect day to confess to your crush, whether it's a friend, classmate, or even acquaintance who has lingered on your mind’ was the quote, the rest of the paragraph continued similarly.

His tired mind couldn’t help but wonder what could happen on this day, childish brain coming up with no more than the image of people like his parents, always together and in love, dedicated to each other to the point you could see it a mile away. He wondered what the day could mean for him, is there a special someone he should be thinking about? Is it normal this is the first time he really thinks about that? Is he gonna be the outcast again being alone in the morning while everyone else has someone by their side? Was he weird because he didn’t have his eyes set on a girl he wanted to…kiss? It shouldn’t be an issue he was twelve, but what if things in Saskatchewan were different or something, would they laugh at hi-

His thoughts came to a halt as the image of his one friend came to mind. Augustine didn’t have his eyes on any girls either, right? He would have known otherwise. They told each other everything, that wouldn’t be an exception!

..Did he know anything about this day? It was never acknowledged all that much in Quebec, was it the same here? Maybe he wasn't so weird after all? The thought calmed his nerves a little more than it should have.

Despite that, for some reason, the idea of being with his best friend during that day didn’t bother him as much as it should have. He felt his face rapidly heat up at the thought of holding his hand, it wouldn’t be the first time they did that they do so very often Augustine always liked to drag him places saying that it was easy and faster (which Winnie was offended by, he can walk fast too!) but for some reason that thought felt different, he didn’t know why.

If his reaction to finding out about the event was normal, this was definitely not. They’re friends, Auggie was his first and only friend after coming here. He didn’t pity him, he didn’t leave, he wanted to stay, he was why Winnie talked to other people at all even if to him they were enough on their own. Auggie was nice to him the way he wanted, he never left him out of things. The other boy was different, straight forward at best but Winnie liked that about him. He never lied about things (even if he did, he was so bad it was laughable), and he never laughed when Winnie’s emotions took the best of him. He supported him and it meant everything to the little boy.

Since they met, he visibly started feeling better. He finally came out of his shell and started crying less, eventually returning to his normal sleep schedule. Well, normal until today that was. But that's all they were, right? Nothing else, that's all they could be right? He wasn’t a girl, nor was the brunette, so that’s what they were.

..Their parents didn’t ever say anything about the way they acted, so it was okay right? Not much would change if they did do things together on that day. Would it be weird if he said he loved him in the morning?? That was the point of the day right? To celebrate love with people you like and enjoy the day together?

It would be okay if he tried to say something right? Nothing bad would happen, Auggie would probably be okay with it too. He didn’t want to be alone and he doubted the other did either, so it was good for them both right?

Winnie barely processed it when he yawned, just realizing how tired all that thinking had made him. Another look at the time told him over an hour had passed, 5:21 Am now instead of 4 when he last checked.

He had to rest so he knew what to say in the morning, otherwise he’ll mess up and forget later!

Finally, he closed his eyes and drifted off to a dreamless sleep 6 hours later than he would have typically wanted to.

It was 2 P.M when Winnie woke up, his head was pounding. His eyes hurt to open and he felt a lot more tired than usual, entirely disoriented.

The door creaked open as a woman with an appearance similar to the child peered her head in, perking up when she realized he was awake.

“Winnie?”

He really shouldn’t have stayed awake, his head hurt even more at hearing the words that he almost forgot to process his name being called. Mustering up the energy to fix his seating, he looked up at his mother to respond despite looking like an absolute wreck.

He was too out of it to really process what happened before he found himself near the lake with Augustine, the shorter kicking rocks into it paying little attention to him spacing out.

..Ah right, he was scolded for being awake for so long. Apparently his mother had realized he was awake when she went to take the laundry out of his room in the morning. His phone was warm, a clear sign he only got off of it recently. She ended up leaving after telling him to get ready for the day, that his best friend had been waiting for him for an hour by that point.

Hearing how long he left him standing, Winnie practically jumped out of bed already panicked as guilt overtook his senses. As soon as he was ready, he basically raced out the door to find his friend who was halfway up climbing a tree by the time he noticed him.

“Auggie!” he exclaimed while making his way over, whatever the other responded didn’t stick to his memory, too tired to really process how fast he typically spoke.

“-Winnie! Look at me already!”

The blond was snapped out of his trance by a flick to the forehead, blinking a few times before his eyes cooperated enough to notice how close his friend was to his face. He practically jumped back with a yelp, forgetting how he was sitting on the edge of the lake and falling into the water.

Augustine panicked and barely grabbed onto his hand, almost falling into the water himself. It’s not that Winnie was unable to swim, more that the water was cold if anything.

With some splashing, they eventually managed to pull him out, but he was absolutely soaked. Augustine couldn’t help but laugh at how wet he was, much to Winnie’s displeasure.

“DON’T LAUGH AT ME YOU’RE THE REASON I FELL AUGGIE” He huffed out, faking annoyance which only made his friend laugh harder.

It was.. Nice.

…until he began sneezing, that was.

The two ended up having to run to Winnie’s house as Augustine dragged him back by the hand once more, trying to warm him up as they went along.

The brunette ended up having to explain to their parents why Winnie was soaked when they were just meant to be playing as he dried himself off and changed, eventually making his way back to his room after Auggie had left to his own house again.

Their conversation can wait, he was too tired and it wasn’t the right time.

But that was okay.

They’ll always have time.

———————————————

The second time Winnie thought about love, he was 14.

2 years had passed since his valentines day dilemma, safe to say time (and procrastination) had eventually made him forget all about his plans.

As they got older, Auggie had hardly changed. They were still together as they were since he moved, only fresh in highschool! Best friends, like they said they were.

During the past few years, he was pressured to talk to more people and make new friends. At some point, he no longer found himself obsessing over finding out why they wanted to be around him. Eventually, the thought of being approached out of pity felt only like a distant memory or something he imagined happening, though it was far from that. If not for that fear, his mother wouldn’t have talked to Augustine’s about him, they wouldn’t have had their c̶h̶a̶o̶t̶i̶c̶ first meeting, never gotten the chance to be this close.

He may not admit or even say it all that often, but that is one thing he’s grateful for. If not for that, he’d have still been dealing with the emotional wreck of being the new kid, outcast like he always expected to be. But he didn’t need to be, it was proven to him in the best way it ever could have been.

He had come to know Augustine’s other friends, they even liked him. The first time he couldn’t make it to school and they still invited Winnie to sit with them the boy was overjoyed, almost to the point he forgot about his friend’s absence for a while. By the time the day was over, he couldn’t help feeling empty without the energetic presence rambling alongside him as they walked back home.

It was one day, so it didn’t matter that much in the long run right?

From that day on, he became more comfortable with them. He didn’t worry as much about being wanted there or not, becoming visibly more comfortable. It came to the point that it was so clear the brunette asked him about it straight up during the middle of one of their walks.

“Hey Win?” Augustine paused, nearly causing the boy behind him to run into him.

The blond caught himself the last second, stabilizing his stance enough to make sure he wouldn’t fall before speaking again.

“Mm yea Auggie? Why’d you stop walking? I was gonna fall on you!” He whined.

“You’ve been more willing to sit with people recently, did something happen while I was gone?”

His questioning look was met with a big smile, almost like Winnie was waiting to talk about it.

“Oh!! That? When you didn’t come a few days ago, your friends came up to me and asked me to sit with them even if you weren’t there, they were really nice and-”

As he continued to ramble, Augustine returned to walking. While the other followed soon after, his expression stayed the same as his ramble- which the brunette stopped listening to- didn’t cease. He felt weird about that, why did it feel weird hearing how happy Winnie was hanging out with his friends on their own? That was what he wanted, right? To get him more friends?

It was probably nothing, doubt it mattered much anyway. It was one time and a normal thing.

“You never told me why you didn't show up to school that day though, did something happen? Mom didn’t let me check on you because she said you probably didn’t want to be bothered at the time” Winnie inquired all of a sudden, catching the other’s attention and cutting off his line of thought.

“I was sick, couldn’t get out of bed and recovered over the weekend” he quickly responded, it was no lie but saying he wasn’t bummed out by not seeing his friend would be a lie. It would have probably made him feel less like a glorified pile of muck on the side of the road.

At least now he knows he wasn’t ditched, it wasn’t intentional or voluntary at least.

Winnie didn’t abandon him because of them.

Of course he wouldn’t! Why would he ever leave someone like him, anyway? He was Winnie’s first and closest friend, nobody else. Others getting to know him wouldn’t change that, if they would have then Winnie wouldn’t have put his all into proving he was cool enough they’d be friends.

Winnie didn’t really notice the look on his friend’s face, too focused on making sure they crossed the road properly. The traffic lights were green and cars were zooming past, yet Augustine’s pace didn’t slow or pause at all. Rushing forward a little faster, he pulled the other back by his collar.

Augustine yelped, not expecting a sudden pull cutting off his breathing for a moment. Winnie gave him a sheepish smile as he coughed trying to breathe properly again, muttering out an awkward apology.

“You were about to walk into the road silly, why did you get so distracted suddenly?” He didn’t say how he found it funny, knowing the other would throw a dramatic fit over that. It was slightly endearing, in a way.

He only realized he sas silently staring at the one before him for a few minutes too long until he felt tapping on his forehead.

“Earth to Winnie, you didn’t hear a word I said didn’t you?” Augustine grumbled.

Winnie couldn't help but laugh once again, his antics really were different.

“We can cross the road now, hurry up before it turns green again!”

It seemed like his dear friend was back to being himself after that mini-distraction, it felt more right this way. He was, once again, taken by the hand as Auggie ran across the road to get them past as fast as possible without the light switching colours on them again.

Winnie could swear he almost tripped 3 times during that small distance run. He should really focus more.

As he looked back to his best friend he couldn’t help but sit there in silence for a few minutes. He wasn’t saying anything this time, only staring off at something god knows where again. As he did so, Winnie couldn’t help thinking back to his thoughts that night two years ago.

Should he bring it up? They were even closer now, so it was even less possible Auggie would react badly (if he did at all!)He had the energy for the conversation this time, they were alone like they needed to be too!

If he didn’t say anything, he’d be too much of a coward to do so again later. 2 years passing since the time he originally planned to and ended up ditching proved that!

With a deep breath and little to no plan, Winnie decided to just get it over with as he could quite literally feel himself inching closer to a heart attack.

“Hey Auggie?”

Augustine turned to him, suddenly losing interest in whatever had his attention moments ago.

“What is i-”

“AUGUSTINE!’

A voice of someone they hadn’t anticipated caught both the young boys off guard. Winnie recognized her, a girl from their math class earlier that day. She was insistent on talking to his friend almost the entire class which threw him off but he said nothing nonetheless.

Augustine’s attention snapped to the call of his name instead, focus shifting.

Winnie didn’t hear the conversation that transpired next, busy trying to understand why the sudden interruption annoyed him the way it did.

It happened sometimes, that was normal. Augustine knew everyone, it's only natural they came up to him sometimes too no? He wasn’t the only one.

“Winnie I need to go for a bit, Donna just said there’s something I need to see quickly or something? You can continue without me I’ll tell you when I’m back” the boy rushed out as he was being pulled away off to the complete opposite road of the path they were going on.

Winnie found himself nodding involuntarily, hardly processing it when the words “I’ll see you when you’re back then” came out of his mouth.

They were oddly dry, not the way he usually talks.

Augustine wasn’t able to dwell on that much further as the girl, now known as Donna, dragged him off somewhere else leaving Winnie alone.

Another time, surely it’d work out by then right?

———————————————

The third time Winnie acknowledged love, he was 16.

Another two years had passed and, once again, he kept procrastinating and chickening out at the last second.

The one time he was finally about to say something, Augustine was dragged away and didn’t return until midnight. He was worried sick the entire day, what if something happened? He promised not to take long, why did he? Maybe he was dragged into something bad, maybe he got hurt and couldn’t come back yet what if he got kidnapped what if something worse happened he didn’t know what the’d do with himself if—

Their mothers were equally worried that day, apparently Augustine didn’t tell his parents he’d take longer because of whatever happened either. When he returned alone, Winnie was questioned about the others whereabouts and lacked a good answer, increasing their concern only for the boy in question to appear again a mere few hours later and get the scolding of his life.

He wasn’t hurt more than a few scratches here and there, some bruises sure but those were his own fault for not being careful as he should have been. Auggie never explained what happened that day, though. It’s not like he pressed for any further information but it was…weird.

Since then, he never brought it up again no matter how much the brunette pestered him to continue his sentence on that day, claiming he forgot or making up any excuse he could think of on the spot to avoid having that interaction when he was not yet prepared. He was procrastinating for so long it had to be perfect. That was the only thing that would make it feel worth the wait.

Winnie would tell him on the anniversary of their first meeting.

..was it excessive? To call it an anniversary, he doubted Auggie remembered the date as anything special but it meant the world to him at the time, and it does even as time passed. It was when he realized he didn’t have to feel so alone anymore, the day someone in this province finally made him feel wanted and welcome.

Because of him, he got closer to more people. The friends Augustine introduced him to, the ones who invited him to hang out with them alone, others around the school, they all wanted to know him for him now. He was the reason they started liking Winnie, the reason he has any other friends at all.

Of course, Augustine would forever stay his favourite and dearest one, but that didn’t mean others didn’t become valued too. Winnie had never been happier, people waving to him as he passed by, stopping to talk to him from time to time, it made him feel warm inside again.

He didn’t miss the glances he got, but it never felt like much of a concern.

At least, not for a while.

Or not yet.

What he had noticed was how Augustine had changed over the years, how he reacted whenever the blond introduced him to a new friend he’d make. How he tended to not respond the way he used to when they were talking about interests they had, especially Hockey.

Winnie knew his friend always loved that game. He was the best player their school had for years, close to all other members of the team and always telling him about it. H̶e̶ t̶r̶i̶e̶d̶ n̶o̶t̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ h̶o̶w̶ c̶o̶n̶v̶e̶n̶i̶e̶n̶t̶l̶y̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ t̶a̶l̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶ l̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ u̶p̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ w̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ j̶o̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶e̶a̶m̶ a̶l̶o̶n̶g̶s̶i̶d̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ b̶o̶y̶.

H̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ m̶i̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶i̶s̶t̶a̶n̶t̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶s̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ a̶c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ r̶i̶n̶k̶, w̶h̶e̶n̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶'s̶ e̶y̶e̶s̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶e̶d̶ c̶o̶l̶d̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶ h̶a̶d̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶.

W̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ f̶e̶l̶t̶ d̶i̶f̶f̶e̶r̶e̶n̶t̶.

N̶o̶t̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ i̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶n̶ i̶s̶s̶u̶e̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶, t̶h̶e̶y̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶, r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶?̶ I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶l̶y̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ h̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶ b̶a̶d̶ d̶a̶y̶ a̶n̶y̶w̶a̶y̶, t̶h̶i̶s̶ y̶e̶a̶r̶ w̶a̶s̶ n̶o̶t̶ t̶r̶e̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶ k̶i̶n̶d̶l̶y̶ b̶y̶ a̶n̶y̶ m̶e̶a̶n̶s̶.

They were still friends, accompanying each other to every class and doing things together as always. It was a good thing how they haven’t changed in that regard, people always came to associate them with the other.

Overtime, it became apparent that wherever Augustine is, Winnie was not far away and vice versa. They used to joke about it at first until it became frequent enough the joke itself got boring. Now, it’s nothing special.

Sure, they walked with other people and hung out with others sometimes. a̶t̶ l̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶, A̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ m̶u̶s̶t̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ t̶o̶o̶ n̶o̶?̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ p̶l̶e̶n̶t̶y̶ o̶f̶ f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶ a̶s̶ f̶a̶r̶ a̶s̶ h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶. But it never damaged their bond.

Winnie was planning this day for the past 4 months at this point, it almost felt funny how repetitive this routine felt by the third time. “The day he would stop being a coward, would say it to his friend’s face and wait for the response he yearns for” or whatever he always thought about, cheesy in a way but it wasn’t like he could exactly help that.

They were only walking through the halls during their lunch period when they passed by Winnie’s locker. A normal thing if not for the fact 3 people were crowded around it, whispering to themselves.

The duo didn’t pay it much time at first, preferring to continue their debate on the newest pointless subject they thought of: if oranges came first or if it was the colour. Augustine insisted the fruit did, whereas Winnie was prepared to die on the hill saying it was the other way around.

The group of 3 in front of the locker were not people the two were particularly friends with, Winnie recognized one as someone who sits next to him in.. biology? At least that's what he remembered. Augustine shrugged at the question of their names, saying it didn’t come up enough for him to remember them much, adding on how they weren’t particularly interesting enough for him to care beyond acquainting with anyway.

It wasn’t something Winnie needed to put much thought into either, trusting his friend’s judgement.

All that really mattered now was convincing Auggie to follow him to the rooftop where he could finally say what he wanted to in complete privacy, but until then he had to keep his cool and continue their seemingly endless bickering.

They were forced to snap out of their conversation when one of the boys pushed someone towards them, turning to see what the issue was. The girl pushed towards them by her friends lost her balance, but Winnie quickly caught her fall before any actual damage could be caused, at which her face turned red.

H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ s̶w̶e̶a̶r̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ g̶l̶a̶r̶e̶d̶ a̶t̶ h̶e̶r̶.

“Are you okay?” he inquired, looking between the three in obvious confusion.

The girl just nodded, fiddling with her hands seemingly unable to form a proper response. As he turned away to leave after telling them to be more careful, his arm was grabbed by her as a seemingly impulse decision she regretted almost immediately after.

W̶a̶y̶ t̶o̶ s̶e̶t̶ h̶i̶s̶ p̶l̶a̶n̶ o̶f̶f̶ a̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶, h̶e̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ h̶a̶d̶ 1̶5̶ m̶i̶n̶u̶t̶e̶s̶ l̶e̶f̶t̶!̶

Before he could breathe, she finally spoke up.

“Can I- talk to you for a few minutes?”

Winnie looked back at his friend, seemingly at a loss. He didn’t want to stay, he planned so long for this but she didn’t have plans of letting him go yet and-

The look on Augustine’s face was cold as it was on those days in the rink, his expression changing to one Winnie couldn’t read in mere seconds after they were talking normally only moments ago.

At least that's what he thought, it’s what that looked like anyway.

“You can go, it’s fine” the brunette said, though Winnie knew better than to believe his tone was one of someone who really didn’t care what he did. He knew better than that, Augustine was annoyed, but what for?

It seemed like the girl took that as an invitation to drag him away, almost tripping Winnie in the meantime. Her friends cheered her on as Augustine only turned around and walked in the opposite direction instead of waiting for him to return after or interrupting her for dragging him off like that.

Whatever side of the school she was taking him to he didn’t quite notice, only realizing how far they’d gone when she shoved a letter into his hands and refused to look at him. Winnie could easily guess the implications of that, seeing the heart sticker on the front of it.

It was about to be a long conversation, one he didn’t want to be a part of.

Why was it so difficult for things to work out when he wanted to come clean?

Maybe another time, surely.

———————————————

Winnie was 18 when they grew apart.

Their separation started slow, over the course of a few years.

It wasn’t entirely like that of course!- they were talking less is all, not really separate. They still hung out at school sometimes like they used to and sat together in one or two classes, W̶i̶n̶n̶i̶e̶ f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ d̶r̶a̶g̶g̶e̶d̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ e̶l̶s̶e̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ o̶f̶t̶e̶n̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ n̶o̶t̶, A̶u̶g̶g̶i̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ s̶o̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ o̶f̶ a̶ p̶r̶o̶b̶l̶e̶m̶ r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶?̶

They walked together after on their home, but Auggie never looked at him if he could help it. When he did, something felt wrong. Instead of the warm looks he always received when they were kids, it was like looking at a stranger.

Any conversations they had were started by him and died out quite quickly, the other giving the bare minimum of a response if not just nodding and moving along. The blond never figured out how to get him to talk like they used to again, nor the reason for the sudden change.

Something he noticed more and more as he approached his friend was the way the other would scoff, as if annoyed by his mere presence. Winnie remembers staying awake night after night thinking and trying to understand what happened, where he went wrong, what he did to make things this way.

He looked through every conversation he could find, recounting every single one he could remember trying to find what about him led his friend to being unhappy about his presence after so long.

Could it be that Augustine had grown tired of him?

Winnie shook his head- he was too tired to be thinking of this at the moment. They would be heading back home in a bit, it was 3:00 anyway, a few minutes left before the bell rings.

He would approach Auggie and have a proper conversation again if it was the last thing he did!

…He didn’t realize how hard that would be until he was already looking for the other, trying to make up any topic so they wouldn’t walk in silence again, and fate didn’t seem to be on his side as he found the person he was in search of before conjuring anything up.

Despite the cold air between them, Augustine still waited for him at the gate so they could walk back together. It made Winnie feel more at ease, knowing he at least didn’t mess up badly enough to get ditched entirely.

He didn’t respond to anyone calling him as he speed-walked over to the brunette, not wanting to make him wait longer than he already did. Heavens know the last thing Winnie wanted now was to have Augustine ditch him because he took too long.

As soon as he arrived, the brunette turned around and started walking down the path that's been imprinted into their memory over the years. It was always a routine of theirs to walk back together, the company was nice. The few times they were separated by something happening always ended up in an apology or hangout later that day to make up for the time.

Winnie both loved and hated how this walk started to feel overtime. The silence wasn’t comfortable as it used to be, his friend didn't look like he planned to break it either. As expected, the job fell on his shoulders.

The further they went, the worse it got. The familiarity of the path at least allowed him to space out and think more about what to do to make things less awkward.

It seemed as if his brain had other plans, by the way it didn’t cooperate. Whatever, they knew each other for years. The last few conversations couldn’t keep repeating, they’d never improve again if neither of them spoke up.

“Hey Auggie?” He began, with little clue as to where he planned to go with the conversation.

For the first time that day, Augustine looked up at him. “Yea?”

“I heard you had a test today, how did it go? Math right?” Winnie did not in fact hear of a math test, let alone one at all. A friend of his mentioned stressing over one the week prior and he just asked that based on someone else who probably wasn’t even in the same cla-

“Another calculus one, yes. Absurdly soon seeing when the last one was” he responded, looking back to the street instead of the one next to him.

That was something Winnie could work with, a start somewhere.

“How did it go? You were always complaining about that subject then finishing all the work before I even got halfway through the page, it was impressive”

There was a shift in Augustine’s expression, small, but noticeable. It was a good confirmation he was doing alright so far, which was all he needed.

The shorter just shrugged at the question. It was how he always reacted to those sorts of inquiries, Winnie couldn’t help letting out a small laugh.

H̶e̶ m̶i̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ w̶a̶y̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ s̶t̶i̶f̶f̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ a̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶o̶u̶n̶d̶.

“How'd you know there was a test to benign with? We’re in different math classes” Augustine may have been staring at the road still, but he was less focused on their path more at kicking the rocks he found on the way. A classic thing he did, trying to get them to go as far as possible.

When they were younger they used to try and see who could do it better, but Winnie eventually grew out of it. Of the many things that changed about Augustine, that habit was not one.

“A friend was complaining about it the last time we talked, I assumed you might have the same teacher and I was right!” He answered. What to him seemed like a simple answer made Augustine pause. Pause for a lot longer than he should have as his expression shifted again.

..Winnie didn’t think he said anything wrong, did he?

Augustine didn’t respond, opting to go back to walking faster than before rather than say a word.

They would be silent again if he didn’t continue, it was going well for once his friend responded with proper sentences again instead of gestures or small sentences.

“I’m sure you did great, Auggie!” He saw the other smile and roll his eyes at those words, s̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶l̶y̶ r̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶d̶?̶.

The direction he was going in seemed to be exactly what was needed, so Winnie went on. “Did you go to hockey practice last Friday? I had to miss it to help my parents with stuff after school but I couldn’t stop thinking about that”

Augustine scoffed and Winnie hesitated to say anything else as a strange feeling set in.

“I went, everyone kept asking about you though”

“That’s so nice of them, I didn’t-” He was cut off by the feeling of his wrist being grabbed roughly.

“What was that?”

Winnie blinked awkwardly, just noticing the expression on the other’s face.

“I just..said that it was nice?” Augustine held onto his wrist tighter at that.

“Don’t play dumb, repeat what you said again I dare you.”

He was angry.

Despite everything, Winnie had never seen the other angry with him. He saw him annoyed, yelling at others from time to time, but never him. Especially not while grabbing his arm like it had offended him somehow.

“I didn’t say anythi-”

“You think I’m stupid don’t you? I heard you, coward.” The brunette let go of him and Winnie held the now slightly reddened wrist as his confusion only grew.

“Of course you didn’t. Whatever, I’ll see you later.”

Before Winnie could respond or reach out to stop him, the other stormed off in the opposite direction on his own but not without sending him a glare before he left.

He messed up again.

The problem was he didn’t know what he said.

Did he not like hockey anymore? Was that topic a bad idea?

For the first time, Winnie felt like their end was near.

He didn't know how long he stood in place before his legs finally started moving again, what he did know was the chances of fixing their friendship were lower than they were previously at the start of the day. The Augustine he knew and the one he was faced with felt like different people now.

It was like there was a stranger in his skin.

———————————————

Winnie was 18 when he wished he never thought about love at all.

A long time had passed since his last conversation with Augustine, and it was now the summer.

Their relationship only got worse after the conversation on their walk back to their houses, always off when the other one is present.

If anyone asked Winnie if he expected this only a few years prior, he would be beyond confused. The boy couldn’t have predicted a fallout as bad as this one.

He was going to move soon, they didn’t need to deal with this much longer.

That was what he thought, at least. When it came to the day right before they moved, their parents made them hang out together again. Instead of what they may have typically done a while back, they opted to go on one last car ride together to talk one last time.

It wasn’t like the fact they grew apart this badly wasn’t his fault. He’s the one who stopped talking despite Augustine’s attempts.

He’s the one who never responded after…

H̶e̶ n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶d̶ A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶ a̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ a̶c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ c̶l̶a̶s̶s̶e̶s̶, c̶l̶u̶b̶s̶, a̶n̶y̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶y̶p̶i̶c̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ t̶o̶g̶e̶t̶h̶e̶r̶. H̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶a̶i̶d̶ a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶.

Winnie was beyond nervous, but to say he wasn’t excited was a lie. As much as he may have avoided acknowledging it, he missed the other dearly. D̶e̶s̶p̶i̶t̶e̶ w̶h̶a̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶, h̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ s̶t̶o̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ l̶o̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶ a̶n̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ m̶a̶d̶e̶ i̶t̶ h̶u̶r̶t̶ w̶o̶r̶s̶e̶.

He grabbed the nearest pair of glasses and rushed out the door.

A̶u̶g̶u̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ u̶s̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ j̶o̶k̶i̶n̶g̶l̶y̶ m̶a̶k̶e̶ f̶u̶n̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶o̶r̶ h̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ o̶n̶e̶s̶ a̶n̶d̶ t̶a̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶.

He found the other waiting for him outside, avoiding eye contact which Winnie didn’t blame him for. They got into the car in silence, the drive continued that way for a while.

Winnie didn’t know what to do, so he pretended nothing happened. He was too focused on making sure his legs don’t go numb while he’s driving, the last thing they needed was a car accident.

As if life was trying to make things hard for him intentionally, that's exactly what they found themselves set up for.

Stranded in a frozen car, suddenly in the middle of winter, dealing with situations beyond their comprehension after a fight in the car.

First staring at the frozen corpses of their child selves, being chased by an..elk-bear monstrosity, falling into what looked like an endless hole, the list went on..

Augustine was searching for a way to leave the entire time, to figure out what happened, but Winnie was unable to get himself to move or put in the same effort.

They were currently in his house, or what looked to be it, and Augustine was searching the rooms. He was sitting on the piles of boxes trying to think of something to help, trying not to freeze to his death.

His gaze lingered on the stairs as memories played out in his mind.

The day he fell down the stairs and broke his legs, the way Augustine left.

When he tripped and was found by someone else, when he waited for Augustine’s return before he passed out for it to never come.

When he truly started questioning the very core of their relationship.

He was not.. Angry. He was confused.

Months later, he still didn’t have an answer as to why. He didn’t know what they were anymore, and it hurt.

It hurt worse than anything, but he didn't blame the other. Augustine didn’t act without reason, he wasn’t the irrational type.

The phrase Augustine said moments before was looping endlessly in his head.

Before he fell- before Winnie LET him fall.

Begging him to hold onto his hands properly and pull him up.

“Please don’t let go. I’m your friend. We’re friends.”

The silence that followed will haunt him.

“We are friends, right?”

The same question he asked himself for months.

He was dragged out of his trance hearing mumbling behind him. Augustine was standing there, a dark look in his eyes.

Darker than Winnie had ever seen from him.

He was..worried.

“Auggie?”

The mumbling continued.

“Augustine? Hello?”

No response.

It took a while for the other to respond, he seemed just as confused as he was.

His chest felt heavy as they both stood there, while he could blame it on paranoia caused by the situation as they are both standing on top of a staircase reminding him of the fall, it wasn’t that.

They needed to talk.

They couldn’t go on like this, one of them needed to do something to break their silence.

Augustine tried and was either met with nothing before or what had happened when they were in the car, it was only right that he began.

“..We can’t go on like this.” He began.

Augustine’s eyes shot up to meet his and Winnie’s, and for the first time in a while he felt familiar.

He continued talking, only pausing to take a breath knowing if he stopped he would freeze up. For the first time in years, he saw himself getting through to his friend.

When he finished, he saw the way Augustine’s lips quivered, the way he shook slightly, he looked the most fragile he ever has. Like a single gust of wind could break him apart. Winnie hated seeing the one he looked up to and loved so dearly look that way, knowing he was part of the reason only made him hate it more.

The dams broke as Augustine’s words spilled out, years of struggle being put before his very eyes.

His chest felt tight, he never thought actions he never thought much of hurt the other this badly, yet here he was listening to it all.

Responding was something he didn’t feel himself do, more truthful than he ever was.

Pouring their hearts out in his house while it was snowing indoors was never something either of them expected to do, but here they were.

“There’s nothing in this world that can replace you.”

“I’m sorry…! I’m really sorry…!”

“I should’ve respected your line…!”

“I should’ve thought about how you’d feel, I should’ve put myself in your shoes…!”

“But I was too blinded by admiration back then that-”

“I couldn’t see that you were my one and only friend before my hero!”

“It must’ve been so frustrating… It must’ve been so upsetting…!”

“You don’t have to forgive me, I know apologizing now won’t change the past…”

“But I just want you to know this…!”

Winnie could hardly process a single word coming out of his mouth, Augustine stood in front of him with his mouth agape taking in everything.

He took that as an invitation to continue.

“You are the coolest and brightest person I have ever met in my whole life, Augustine!”

“I was only able to do all the things I’ve accomplished so far because you encouraged me back then…!”

“Because you gave me hope. You work hundreds, thousands, million times harder than me… And I remind myself every day how lucky I am to have ever met a friend like you…!”

“...-You’re amazing like that!-..”

Winnie’s heart ached at every tear that dropped, the other tried to stop but he couldn’t. They momentarily panicked when he couldn’t breathe through the tears, but it was only expected after such a long time of bottling everything up.

Everything felt worth it again when he saw his smile.

The one he knew, the smile that drew him in from the start.

This was the Augustine he knew.

They had to get back to reality, if his theory was correct then he knew how to do so.

They just needed to hurry up before their time runs out, Winnie believed in them, they could do it together.

He finally felt complete again, the hole in his heart filled simply by a single conversation.

Maybe he didn’t regret thinking about love all these years, all he needed was a reminder.

A reminder was exactly what he got, and he could not be more grateful for it.

For the first time in years, they were truly friends.

They were not alone.

———————————————

It had been around 3 months since the car accident.

Since the two were trapped in an upside down car, experiencing a world made up of their own horrors.

Since they finally, truly became the friends they always thought they were.

The speech they had, the chance to finally bond again and come clean about everything, took so much more weight off of Augustine's shoulders than he could have ever imagined it would. Sure, the cost was a broken leg, but it also meant that Winnie got to stay longer too.

Augustine could never describe how it felt looking at his friend again, finally seeing a friend rather than a competitor. Someone to relax around again rather than someone he was inferior to. Winnie did all he did to be like him of all people and all he saw were false attempts to tear him down and take his place.

Part of him can’t imagine that anymore, the same part that yearned to talk to Winnie again since the accident the winter before that. The same part that kept him up at night about not helping, not doing something, anything to help him when he fell down those stairs and broke his legs.

He had one broken leg and support yet he was still struggling, still healing from the consequences of it. It had made for a fun joke though, making Winnie bring or do stuff for him because as the driver it was easy to blame him for the crash and therefore the break. At first Winnie looked incredibly guilty when it was brought up, going silent before apologizing so unlike himself. It took a few weeks to get him to see it as the joke it was, but when that worked he never got to live it down.

It wasn’t like he seemed to mind though, frequently asking Augustine if he wanted anything else after he brought up the idea of feeling like having something of any sort and getting up on his own, even if it was merely a passing thought or mood.

It was…nice.

What was not nice on the other hand was the days itching closer to the new moving date.

Augustine finally healed, which meant Winnie would be moving soon.

He would leave to go to the college they both wanted. Oddly, instead of sparking feelings of anger or envy this time, he felt more melancholic about the thought.

As the day came closer and closer, a sense of emptiness overtook him. Winnie was the same, they hung together a lot more than they have in the last few years as a whole, but the departure always felt wrong.

Despite their talk, they both knew there were still words unsaid between them. Neither of them had the guts to come clean about them, but they both knew something was still missing.

Augustine’s realization came when he felt funny after hanging out with Winnie for a while. The taller had gotten tired after their outing, falling asleep on him at some point during their conversation. He didn’t notice at first, too distracted going on about some topic that came up. He was a man of strong opinions, and those opinions he was gonna tell.

He only noticed when the sound of soft snoring reached his ears. The blond was fully leaned up against him, sound asleep.

This was..the most relaxed Augustine saw him in some time. It had been a long time since they were in a position like that, he never counted, though.

He couldn’t help but stare, a̶d̶m̶i̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ looking at the other. He had changed over the years (obviously), both mentally and physically as expected. He was a lot taller now, as opposed to the little height difference they had as children. Despite that and his generally bigger build, he still carried that gentle air around him, something he welcomed, really. A threatening Winnie didn’t sound very entertaining, he’d know by now.

Only after Winnie left did he realize how much..lighter? He had felt it. Something was different, but not in the same way as before. It was good, or at least so he thought. It didn’t feel suffocating or unfamiliar.

…He had fallen again, hadn’t he?

Augustine tried to push that thought away for days, as the thought of it made his brain hurt too much to think about it. He couldn’t be bothered and quite frankly preferred to ignore the existence of those feelings as a whole! And so that's what he did.

Winnie would move soon, the feelings would fade, they’d go back to just being best friends and he’d NEEEVER have to think about it again!

..or that's what he’d hoped, and oh how wrong he was.

The days passed fast. Faster than they should have, both of them hated it but time wouldn’t slow down for them. Afterall, it’s their own fault they didn’t speak for a long time, they lost their spark and almost burned down their friendship entirely out of their own stupidity.

That's why it didn’t feel real when they had to say goodbye. They may have nearly split apart, but they were always near. Winnie never felt as comfortable as he did with Augustine around anyone else, and Augustine never felt complete without him there.

It made his stomach churn.

“Don’t you dare end up falling down another set of stairs in that college will you? I can’t help you there to pay this back” The brunette half heartedly complained, visibly struggling to come up with anything to say.

“I won’t, I won't! You don’t set things on fire in exchange, deal?” Winnie giggled.

“That was ONE time-”

“One too many!~”

The sound of a car horn cut Augustine off before he could throw a witty response back at his companion, Winnie’s parents telling them to hurry up before they were late.

Whatever happy mood they were in dissipated as fast as it originally came along, both of them going silent.

“..You’ll come back eventually, right?” Augustine asked in a voice far quieter, smaller, than Winnie ever wanted to hear from him. It wasn’t right.

“Of course I will!” he shot back almost immediately, almost offended the other thought that at all. Really who did he take him for?

“Good, who else would praise elks for existing the same way you do every christmas?” Going back to the previous atmosphere and feel of their conversation felt better than keeping the heavy feeling their goodbye gave. At least one last bit of entertainment for them.

Though it couldn’t last long, Winnie’s parents were clearly getting impatient to the point both boys saw it without sparing them more than a simple glance.

“They’re still better than your bears, but we might need to continue this conversation another time, being late is hardly ideal for moving again, you know?” Although it was meant to be a joke, Winnie’s tone failed to convey that, sounding more down than anything.

“Stay safe on the car ride then you idiot”

“That's hardly up to me,but I can try?”

“Good, I’ll never let it go in the afterlife if you don’t” The eyeroll Augustine did could be felt, without even looking at him.

“I get it I get it, goodbye for now then? I’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise you” Tone changing from his usual up-beat one, Winnie gave his friend the last hug they would have for a long time.

Augustine didn’t hesitate to return the hug, hardly keeping himself together at all.

“I guess so”

“Do you not even want to say anything to me anymore? Im hurt</3”

Augustine sighed, his mind felt like too much of a wreck to process the events that followed.

They both had to separate as Winnie walked to his parents’ car, whatever washed over Agustine really decided to do so at the worst time possible because not even a moment after the other had turned around, he found himself blurting out the one sentence he was trying to avoid and forget about for months.

‘I love you’

Every part of him that hoped Winnie didn’t hear him was let down as he paused and turned to look at the brunette, who was processing the fact those words came out of his lips at all.

Opposed to what he was expecting, the one in blue smiled at him with a smile more genuine than he has ever seen from him.

“That will be something else we talk about when I come back” he said, voice maintaining the calm feel it carried with it earlier in the conversation.

“I- uhm- oka. Yes, it will be” Augustine stuttered, trying to gather his nerves and thoughts as fast as possible. What was that??

“For the record, I love you too”

With that, he turned and ran to the car, not hearing whatever the other said after him. Whatever he yelled out was a topic they were to tackle later.

Finally, after 6 years of pining, Winnie no longer felt strange.

His love was requited.

#angst #fluff #ship #augustine orlov #cold front #cold front augustine #cold front game #cold front winnie #winnie bosko #augwin #gay gay homosexual gay #they kept getting inconvenienced #5 + 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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acourtoflucien · 4 months ago

Text

Lay Me Down In The Light

Pairing: Lucien x Elain

For Day 2 of @elucienweekofficial 'Golden'

Summary: Elain wants to progress her and Lucien's relationship to the next level, but she doesn't know how to go about it. Walking in on him in the bath is certainly a place to start.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,848

Chapter: 1/3

✨ Read on ao3 or Under the Cut✨

A/N: My contribution for the 'Golden' prompt for Elucien week. This will be two chapters, unfortunately my dissertation had to come first so this had to be split up *sigh*. I had a lot of fun with this, and the image of Lucien in the bath wouldn't leave me alone for weeks so here he finally is. I hope you enjoy it!

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Elain pulled at the fur lining of her hood as she walked along the sleet slicked pavement. She had lingered for too long in the heated square, pouring over the goods on display in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, thinking already of Starfall despite winter’s insistent chill that showed no signs of ebbing.

Velaris was beautiful, of course, but cold, bitterly so in the winter months, and though bubbles of heat were kept in place for its residents the streets themselves remained icy. She shivered, the darkness of late February pressing in closer around her, the sky, though beautiful, seemed lower than usual, disheartening.

She paused at a fork in the road. Turning right would lead a more direct path to the river house, where no doubt the fire was roaring and dinner on its way. But left, it would take her past another house, the one that housed his apartment.

Lucien had been there near permanently as of late, and they had spent almost every day he was there together, walking around the town, eating in the various restaurants Velaris had to offer, or else spending the day curled up on the sofas in his apartment, talking the day away. Since solstice, she realised with a slight flush, he had been there since the winter solstice.

That night they had shared a kiss, a proper one, not the sweet presses of lips to her cheek or hand that had been the practice until then as they slowly got to know each other. No, this had been real and deep, and had made something flicker behind her ribcage, a flame that had settled there and grown every day since. She wondered how long she could endure it, burning for him like that.

He’d left last week for a quick visit to Jurian and Vassa, settled as they were in the human lands. Only a week, he’d promised. And that week was almost up.

She intended to go back to the river house tonight, to relax, bathe, get ready for his arrival tomorrow, and though she knew she should get out of the cold, part of her, the part that burned at every quiet word and soft touch, drove her to take the left fork and walk by the house just to look again at the promise it held.

Decision made, she set off, bracing against the bitter chill of wind. She had almost asked to go with him just to get out of the city, but she knew the human lands were no better, if not colder, than here.

Having to keep her eyes half-closed against the sleet now beginning to fall in earnest, she squinted down at the icy road, biting back a half-amused, half-incredulous smile as she realised she knew the way without even having to look. So different to how it had been just two years ago, when she’d barely spoken a word to him, never mind been to his rooms.

How time, and a little bit of courage, had changed their relationship entirely.

With her mind so focussed on thoughts of him and the way they had grown closer she arrived at the gate in what seemed no time, and reached out a hand to steady it as it had popped open in the wind. Then she looked up at the house.

Lucien’s apartment was on the top floor of the townhouse, the bottom owned by an older couple who always smiled when they saw her and were happy to talk to her about the little garden they tended to out the front.

She was glad to know them, even if their smiles were a little too knowing every time she took Lucien’s arm, or stared a bit too long at his profile when he was talking.

Now, she looked up at the windows of the house, trailed over as they were with climbing ivy, and was surprised to see a light in the top corner. Had he returned early?

A few days into the new year he had handed her a key to the apartment, telling her to let herself in anytime, knowing that though she loved her family, loved little Nyx, sometimes living with them could be a little. Well, a little overwhelming.

Her fae body had made her more sensitive to loud noise, more prone to headaches than she used to be, and sometimes it was nice to come into the cool interior of his rooms, surrounded by that sun-soaked cinnamon scent, and simply let her mind drift.

She had been there just the day before to tend to the little succulent plants on his windowsill that were curling and yellowing at the edges, repotting and pruning. Maybe she had left faelight shining, and not realised.

Not wanting to go home until she knew for sure, she decided to go up and check. If he was back early, she would simply apologise for disturbing him. Perhaps he would even invite her in for dinner. Or something more.

She ascended the stairs, pulling her hands out the fur lined gloves she wore to fish the key out of her bag. Opening the door, she made to call out, in case he had returned and was simply in one of the other rooms but something stopped her. Not the bond, something instinctive and quiet, a cool voice that whispered to her to stop. Her magic, she realised.

She listened to the stillness, breathing quietly. What if someone else had come into the house? The thought hadn’t occurred to her until that moment, that someone could be in here, perhaps searching for something. Lying in wait. But crime was so low in Velaris, almost unheard of, especially in these parts.

Then she heard it; a quiet sigh.

Something in the back of her mind relaxed at that. For that was his voice, she knew. And, she noted, the heartbeat that pulsed along with her own sounded stronger here. So he had returned early, she thought, and he was in the bathing room, suddenly recognising where the sound had come from. The door was left open a crack, and she could now see the soft golden glow of faelight that danced behind it.

She strained her senses, the heightened faerie hearing that had overwhelmed her so much in the beginning, everything too much, too loud, coupled with the sound of a constant beating heart that she felt everywhere, not just if he happened to be in the room with her at the time.

Again, some part of her made her keep quiet, still and listening. If she concentrated enough, she could hear his breath, deep and slow, but also, she realised, heavy. Laboured. Concerned, she started forward. Had he been injured somehow?

She couldn’t help her concern whenever he left for extended periods, but this had been a short trip, visiting friends. There should have been no reason for him to fight, or get hurt in any way, yet his breath said otherwise, and the heartbeat which had grown louder the closer she strayed to the door was fluttering slightly, an irregular rhythm that increased and ebbed again and again.

Moving forward instinctually, she listened for any further sound. She dreaded to think, was he hurt and thinking himself alone to deal with the pain? Or was it something else, something deeper? She remembered her mother’s fever, the quickening heart, the sharp, short breathing that came before the end.

It was only the bond, contentedly warm against her ribs, that stopped her falling into panic. She knew, had been told so many times by Feyre and the others, there would be no doubt if he was in trouble, that the bond would tighten, she would be able to feel it. There was nothing that suggested pain, or discomfort, only a warm contentedness, no doubt from the heated pool she knew lay behind the panelled doorway.

Right, that solved that, she told herself. She should get away from the door and tend to the fire, get the room and the house heated before he emerged so they could talk together. There was no point leaving, he would know she had been here from her scent and she didn’t want to walk out without at least wishing him a good night’s rest. Perhaps, he may even kiss her again.

Something sparked in her stomach at the thought, bright in its intensity. Flattening a hand to her abdomen, she tried to will herself to calm, but as she did so another bolt shot through her. Though this time not in her stomach, but behind her ribs.

It was all she could do to stop from gasping aloud. The soft noises, the quickening heart.

Telling herself not to, she inched closer to the door, the sliver of golden light where it laid open. Only to check, she thought, not even fooling herself, only to see he was okay. Not for any other reason, she thought sternly, before her reason abandoned her entirely as she caught the scent that was flowing from the room among the steam from the water.

It was Lucien, yet somehow sweeter and richer than she had ever noted before, dark and stirring like the warmth of a campfire, like the heady sweetness of the earth in the sun, like the spice laden comfort of ginger and cinnamon.

Her breath deepened, slowing to savour the headiness of it, the rush of heat and desire it held.

Later, she would blame what happened next on the soft moan she heard through the door. In reality, there was nothing on her mind other than following that scent to its source, sliding into the warmth and depth of it. Courage bloomed from somewhere within her, the sound and scent of her mate pulling her on. She held out a hand, and pushed open the door.

He was reclined against the wall of the tub, eyes closed, brows drawn in a frown of concentration and need, lips parted as he exhaled. His long red hair was dark and slick from the bathwater, sticking to the side of his face and trailing lazily across his chest, the ends dancing as they splayed out into the water.

One hand was braced against the side of the tub for support, as the other – heat flooded through Elain at the sight, the sparking embers outside nothing compared to the tidal wave that washed through her, so abruptly she was almost dizzy from it, and she must have gasped, must have made some noise as his eyes flashed open and he pulled his hand away in shock, gripping the side of the tub and moving so quickly that the water rose to the lip and spilled over onto the floor.

"Elain!" he said, voice deep and out of breath, almost a groan. "I, what–"

Voice giving out in surprise, he made a tense aborted movement as if torn between grabbing the towel that lay pooled on the floor and shielding himself from her gaze. Clearing his throat, he tried again: "what are you doing here?"

"I came to check on the house," Elain said, hating how breathy her voice sounded, the tremble in it she knew was forever interpreted as shock, or fear, instead of a burning, consuming desire. "The light was on and I thought maybe. Maybe something had happened," she trailed off uselessly, unable to tear her eyes from his beautifully flushed face.

"I. Oh, yes, I," he paused again, still staring wide eyed as though she was an apparition. "Let me just get out, I –"

"No," she said, too loud in the silent room, taking both herself and Lucien aback.

They stared each other, she could hear his fast heartbeat overlapping with the sound of her own pulse beating in her ears. She took a breath. "Don’t get out on my account."

As the words left her mouth she saw him breathe in sharply, and before he could say anything else she drew all the courage she possessed, strengthened by the desire in her veins, and said "Please. Don’t stop because of me."

He swallowed, eyes darkening even as he dragged himself forward to sit fully upright in the water, holding her gaze.

"Elain."

Just her name on his lips sent a thrill through her, the implicit question in his voice. A request, perhaps even a plea.

"Don’t stop," she said simply, unconsciously holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

The surprise was still lingering on his face, a thousand questions written there, but whatever he saw in her eyes seemed to be enough as he leaned back ever so slowly until he was once again reclining against head of the tub.

They were both silent, both barely breathing, as his hand slowly trailed itself back to where it had been before she interrupted, and she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop her gaze from flickering down, down, to where he gripped himself again, cock flushed as pink as the blush still adorning his face.

She swallowed almost audibly, eyes snapping back to his.

Permission.

His body loosened and relaxed, bleeding out the tension that her appearance had caused, a small sigh drifting from his lips as he readjusted his hand, shifting in the water to get more comfortable before continuing the slow, dragging movement up and down the length of his shaft.

The water swirled around him, disturbed by the motion, and she watched mesmerised as it glinted golden from the light of the candles on the high shelf behind the tub, the hanging faelights in the air around her.

Watched too as the same water dripped down the length of his forearm every time it lifted out of the water, running in rivulets down the flexing muscles there.

His breath hitched, and she felt behind her ribs that same spark from before, now recognising it for the insistent desire that was coursing through Lucien as he pleasured himself. Cheeks heating, she wondered how much he had felt of her own desperate, late night sessions this past season, if he had felt her need for him as she touched herself.

Considering she had not felt him until they were in the house together, she hoped with embarrassment that it went both ways. She had not had much self-control of late, consumed by thoughts of him almost every night, of his warmth, his scent, the way his strong hands had cradled her head, her waist, as they kissed.

"Gods," he whimpered, and she drew her mind back to the present, watching intently as his eyes fell closed, brow furrowing as his hand sped up. The sound heated the pool of want in her, and it was all she could do to stifle an answering moan, feeling her own body respond.

What would those long, deft fingers feel like against her, she wondered, as she watched them twist over the flushed head of his cock. How well could they take her apart.

The image flew through her mind before she could stop it, him resting between her thighs, staring up at her with a devilish smile as he thrust his fingers inside her, the other hand driving her closer and closer with the pressure against her clit. A vision or a fantasy. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish between the two, but she fervently hoped this one would come true.

"Elain," he said, sounding like he was biting back a groan. She met his eyes again, flush deepening. Of course, as she could feel the sparks of heat as he fisted himself, he would be able to feel her desire from where it had began throbbing between her legs.

She tensed her thighs tighter together in an attempt to lessen the pressure, skirts shifting and sparkling in the low light.

"So good," he murmured, and she felt heat rush through her at the words.

Lucien’s other hand had come down to rest on his thigh, fingers pressing tightly against the smooth skin there, nails digging in just slightly as if he couldn’t control the amount of pressure he was using. Each slick twist of his wrist over his cock had them digging in sharper, and she could feel through the bond flashes of the pleasure-pain that it brought him, feel as it drew him closer to the edge.

Her breathing sped up to match his as his need crested, the slickness between her thighs increasing with each burst of want.

"Elain," he choked, and there was no mistaking the moan in his voice this time.

She dragged her gaze away from his cock to watch as his face twisted in pleasure, unable to keep his eyes open as it consumed him. She felt it, his cresting desire through the bond between them, felt as the tight ache gave way to blindingly clear pleasure, golden and slick and euphoric.

He groaned deep and low in his chest, and she watched him spill over his fist, ropes of thick cum coating his glistening pectorals, his abdomen.

Opening his eyes, he held her gaze, and despite the deep contentment she saw there the intensity and the heat made her squirm. Neither of them spoke for a moment. The ache between her thighs grew steadier and more evident the longer she looked at him. Everything she could think to say felt wrong, too flippant, or too embarrassing, too forward. But she had to say something, the silence becoming unbearable.

“I. I see you made it back alright. From your trip,” she stuttered, wincing internally.

“Indeed, my lady,” Lucin replied, still faintly out of breath, but with a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.

“That’s…” she cast around for another word, anything at all to say, and came up blank.

He watched her flounder, then smiled.

“Would you hand me a towel, please,” he said, straightening up, flicking a hand to clear the mess from his abdomen and start the tub draining.

Glad to have something to do that didn’t involve staring blankly at him, Elain turned to find a towel in the open cabinet behind her. She took a couple of steadying breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and burning arousal. By the time she turned around she felt slightly more at ease, and he had stepped out of the tub and was standing dripping on the rug.

He held out a hand, expecting her to hand the towel over, but for the second time that night she drew her courage together and stepped closer. Without meeting his eyes, she drew the soft fabric over the skin on his neck, trailing across his shoulder, down his smooth, glistening chest.

When she reached the space below his navel she paused, and he must have read something in the tension that surrounded her because he placed his hand over hers, gently raising it back up to his neck, so that she was made to look up at him.

His expression was so unguarded she felt almost that she shouldn’t be looking, as if she could see every vulnerability within him in that moment.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said gently, still holding her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I want to,” she said simply. And she did, despite her uncertainty. She wanted to care for him, make him feel good and be made to feel good in return. But how to ask, she had no idea where to start. She felt him take in a breath, and waited.

“Have you … before I mean?”

She knew he wasn’t talking about drying him off, felt his own uncertainty through the bond.

“Yes,” she murmured, watching the flickering light from the candles dance across his cheek and spark in his golden eye.

“I didn’t, I mean, I thought you wanted to wait, a while.”

It was almost endearing to hear him tripping over the words, would even have been amusing if she didn’t feel seconds from collapsing under the weight of her own desire for him.

“I want you, Lucien,” she said, as steadily as she could manage.

He nodded slightly in response, and some of the tension in her melted away. It felt good, not to be questioned, to have him take her at her word. To have him know exactly what she meant, and respond equally.

He kept still, but she could feel his own want for her through the bridge connecting them. It had not dimmed, she realised, not once since she walked through the door.

Feeling bold, she raised the hand not holding the towel and smoothed it over his chest, sliding it along the heated skin there and up over his fine collarbone. Letting her do as she pleased, he titled his neck slightly and she cradled her hand around the back of it, trailing her fingertips over the wet strands of his fiery hair, gripping it.

“If you pull on it, I’ll have to kiss you,” he said, voice low and intoned with humour.

She smiled, the last of her uncertainty seeming to fade away with the action. This was Lucien. Her mate. He knew how to set her at ease, knew how to care for her. He would not push her any further than she wanted to go, nor would he shy away from her desire.

Grinning, she tightened her hold, and pulled him forward.

The first press of their mouths was soft, exploratory. A reassurance as much as a promise of more. After her lips parted and he licked into her mouth, it quickly descended into heat, sparking up her spine as if no time had passed since she had watched him bring himself to climax, need crashing into her again.

She moaned into the kiss, the wet slide of their mouths, the heat of his skin where his arms encircled her, his spiced rich scent invading all of her senses. How could simple kissing make her feel this way, as if she was on fire, as if she burned from the inside, every pore in her body filling with desire for him.

He broke away from her lips with a groan, pressing a burning line of kisses down her throat, stopping only when he met the fabric of her dress.

She wanted him to rip it off her, wanted to feel those lips all over her body, wanted no barrier left between them. But he broke away, kissing her again fiercely as if in response to her thoughts. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she could feel the heat from his naked body even through the fabric.

Panting, they split apart, her breath coming in quick gasps, and she stared up at him, the pupil in his russet eye blown wide, the blush staining his golden skin, lips parted and wet with their combined spit.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, hushed, and could have sworn surprise flickered behind his eyes before he smiled.

“As are you, Elain,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek.

Then he dropped to his knees.

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A/N: Any comments are much appreciated - I've not written for this fandom before so pls be gentle. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated - part two should hopefully be out soon ;)

#court writes #court chats #elucienweek2024 #elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar #why is posting your writing for the first time always scary :(

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the-boy-meets-evil · 9 months ago

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today of all days | vernon

(the lull of the new year never really comes for you, which is fine. it's better to be busy. this year, you're a little too busy planning something else to worry much about valentine's day. It's never been your favorite holiday anyway. but, could your boyfriend have forgotten in entirely?)

pairing: vernon x afab!reader genre: est. relationship, non-idol!au | smut, slight angst, fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~4.6k warnings: mentions of food, there's a little angst, but it's mostly miscommunication, kissing, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, marking, unprotected sex (don't do this without talking about it), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, i think that's it

a/n: happy valentine's day to the always wonderful, absolutely amazing @wonwussy 💕 it's been so much fun to get to write this for you. i hope you enjoy it! this is part of @svthub's cupid for you valentine's exchange organized by my bby @wongyuseokie (who is very amazing and also made the banner & divider). happy valentine's (and carat day)!

There’s usually kind of a lull at the beginning of the new year. Like everyone decides that after the holidays, you’re due for a break. People try to work on their resolutions, businesses expect to see the drop off in their sales. Everything just feels more peaceful. It’s that calm before the storm when everything picks up again.

Not for you, though. At least not this year. February brings Valentine’s Day and your boyfriend’s birthday. You don’t really care that much about the former. It’s nice to have someone to celebrate with, and you’re sure the two of you will do something, but it’s nothing crazy. As long as you have him and a quiet night in, you’re good. It’s the latter of the two things that’s keeping an otherwise peaceful time from being peaceful.

Here’s the thing. Vernon isn’t one to make a big deal of his birthday, never has been. He feels similar to the way you feel about Valentine’s Day. He likes to do something to mark the passing of time, definitely enjoys the presents, but doesn’t feel the need for it to be some huge thing. It’s a little difficult, too, because he’s got another friend with the same birthday. For the years that they’ve been friends, they’ve always tried to work it around each other. Seokmin is a year older and feels a little more strongly about birthdays as something that should be celebrated. Somehow, that led to this year. A coordinated birthday for the two of them with all their friends there to celebrate the both of them. Two different cakes, two different contributions to the menu, and twice as many people to coordinate with.

To say it’s been a bit of a headache is an understatement.

You love Vernon. He’s been your person for over two years and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. You also love to plan things for other people as a way to show them how much you care. This has just been a bigger undertaking than you imagined. Especially when you have to keep the party under wraps. Vernon knows you’re doing something with a group of friends. He thinks it’s only a small group. But, he’ll appreciate it all the same. Just like he seems to appreciate everything that you do.

“Babe,” Vernon calls from the living room. He’s in the middle of gaming with Wonwoo, connected by their headsets.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Wonwoo says that I’m gonna get in trouble for not planning some big thing for Valentine’s,” Vernon tells you.

You can hear the protests from Vernon even through the headset, which makes you chuckle. “As long as we get to cook something together and have a night in, I’m good.”

“See?” Vernon says triumphantly. There’s a pause where Wonwoo must be asking something. “Oh, yeah, I’m definitely getting a gift.”

“What?” you ask with clear surprise. Gifts were not part of the plan for this year.

“It’s nothing big, but I’ve got the perfect idea,” Vernon says with a familiar look of mischief.

“Oh no, no you are not,” you counter. He bursts out in a cackle. “Vernon, you are not getting strawberry flavored condoms for Valentine’s Day. We don’t even use condoms.”

The laugh through Vernon’s headset is just as loud. You would probably be embarrassed if it was anyone else, but Wonwoo has been in both of your lives long enough that most barriers have been erased.

“No, don’t worry, that wasn’t actually it. I have a plan,” Vernon says and you watch him suspiciously. “Promise!”

You decide to let it lie for the time being. At least partly, because you don’t want to keep standing there while he’s playing video games. Partly because you knew it meant he would be distracted enough that you could sneak off to the bedroom to make a call about the party.

Jeonghan had not been your first choice for a party planning committee because sometimes it’s hard to get an actual thought out of him. You’re not always sure what he’s thinking. But, he’s Seokmin’s best friend and one of the best schemers you know. Thankfully, these days he really only uses his talents for good. Well, it would be thankfully if you didn’t harbor a grudge over a prank he played when you first met.

Miraculously, Jeonghan is also free and willing to do some final planning. It’s that stage where the final group of friends get clued in. Some friends, who shall remain nameless, had to find out much closer to the day. They just couldn’t be trusted to keep the secret. You’re actually impressed that you’ve managed to keep it from Vernon and Seokmin. You confirm that Vernon doesn’t know. He would have absolutely told you. Jeonghan also confirms that Seokmin doesn’t know because he can’t keep a secret either.

When you wander back out into the living room, Vernon is still very engrossed in his game. You kiss the top of his head, watch the small smile with his eyes trained on the screen, and plop down at the other end of the couch. You prop your computer on your lap and reach for your headphones when Vernon turns to you between matches.

“Wanna order in for dinner?” he asks and you smile.

“Oh from that place around the corner?” you suggest. Vernon rolls his eyes without any real annoyance. It’s your favorite place.

“Whatever you want, babe,” he says and turns back to the game.

It’s easy, not only because you like it, but also since you know what he orders there. He’s kind of a creature of habit. Maybe you are too, since you always want to order from the same place. It’ll give you a chance to watch a few things while waiting as well as giving Vernon the chance to keep playing with Wonwoo. The gaming is always seamless for them after years of working together.

When the food arrives, Vernon finishes his last game so that he can eat with you. It’s one of the things you love about him. He’s so thoughtful with things like that. When you first moved in with him, you were a little worried. You had never lived with a partner and weren’t sure how to navigate it. As it turns out, with the right person, it’s pretty easy. You leave each other to do your own things and then come together after.

“You’re sure you’re okay with a quiet Valentine’s Day?” he asks when you curl into him after dinner.

“It’s a little late if I’m not considering it’s in two days,” you say with a light laugh.

“I’m being serious,” he says.

“I’m good, Vernon. I’ve got you and we’re going to make something together,” you say.

“I promise not to burn down the kitchen,” he assures you.

“You’ve been getting a lot better,” you say. “Plus, we also have dinner this weekend for your birthday.”

“We don’t really have to do anything crazy for my birthday, you know. It’s so close to Valentine’s Day and…” Vernon trails off before you press a kiss to his lips.

“I love to celebrate your birthday. It’s another year of you and everyone should be thankful for that,” you say.

Valentine’s morning comes bright and early. Sun streams through the cracks in your shades. Not quite enough to wake you up, but enough for you to know that it’s morning. You smile and stretch out, thinking it’s probably earlier than you need to be up. As you’re considering waking Vernon up to celebrate the day when you register an emptiness.

You’re the only one in the bed.

You open your eyes and confirm what you already knew. Vernon isn’t in bed with you. The door to the bathroom is open and the light is off, so he’s not in there either. Although you prefer to lay in bed to wake up, curiosity gets the better of you and propels you out of bed to the living room. The entire apartment is quiet, still. Well, still apart from your cat that’s weaving between your legs. He doesn’t seem hungry, so you think he’s just wondering what you’re doing. It’s odd that he would have left the apartment so early in the morning.

Padding back to the bedroom, you find your phone on the nightstand, plugged in like it always is. When you unlock it, you have a myriad of messages and notifications. Conspicuously absent, though, is a message from your boyfriend. There’s nothing to tell you where he is or went or could be. Which is odd, yes, but mostly it just makes you a little irritated. Sure, you don’t ever want to make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. It’s plenty to spend the day with someone you love that loves you back.

Vernon can be a little spacy at times. It’s not his best quality, but it’s also impossibly endearing. Maybe it’s because you know how much he’s thinking about when he’s got that look like he’s never had a thought in his life. It also makes him really chill, which matches you well. He doesn’t always have to be going or doing something. But, he’ll just as happily go out and be your shield because he’s much more of a people person than you are.

All this to say, there’s part of you that wonders if the holiday just slipped his mind. It’s not like it’s a big deal, you said as much to him. But, you still expect something. Even if it’s just to know where he is so early in the morning. You hate that you wonder if he forgot because you trust Vernon with your life. He can get distracted sometimes. One time, he got so caught up in a project that he entirely forgot dinner plans with his friends.

The mature thing to do would be to send him a text and ask where he is or even to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day. You’re not feeling especially mature, though. And you feel very justified in that annoyance because he’s the one that left early. He should be the one to let you know where he is. It should not be on you.

Trying to push the thoughts of Vernon out of your mind, you get ready for the day. Opt to leave earlier so you can buy yourself something to eat and some coffee on the way. By the time you reach work, you’re even more irritated rather than calmer. Every radio station was playing love songs that fit the genre. Every host seems to want to know what people’s plans are for the day. The coffee shop by your office was decorated in red, white, and pink hearts with all sorts of specials for the day. When you head into the office, it only gets worse. People have flowers on their desks, are exchanging happy wishes, talking about how they can’t wait to get out of work for their plans. Some people are spending it with partners, others are spending it with friends. Either way, everyone seems to have plans that are better than whatever will be waiting when you get home. Why did Vernon have to pick today of all days to be forgetful?

Your work best friend stops by your desk with the typical cup of coffee mid morning and stops in his tracks when he senses your mood.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Minho asks.

“Wow, hello to you too,” you respond when you take the coffee from him.

“You seem like you’re in a bad mood,” he says.

“Maybe I am,” you answer.

“But, it’s Valentine’s Day and you have, like, the most perfect boyfriend. What’s there to be mad about?” he asks.

“Can’t be the most perfect boyfriend if he was gone before I woke up and didn’t even text me to say anything,” you say with all the irritation you feel.

That catches Minho’s attention. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I woke up and the bed was empty. No note. No text. Just empty,” you say.

“And you haven’t heard from him?” Minho presses.

“No,” you say, only to be distracted by your phone lighting up.

“Looks like a message from him,” he observes.

You quickly glance at your phone, hating how eager you feel just to hear something from him. It’s disappointing, though.

Vernon: sorry that i wasn’t there when you woke up, i had a last minute errand Vernon: when do you think you’ll be home from work?

Instead of telling Minho what happened, you just hand your phone over to him. His grimace says all you need to know. It’s not an overreaction.

“That’s…all he’s said to you today?” he asks.

“You can scroll to see,” you say because he still has your phone.

“No thanks,” Minho says with a laugh. “I don’t wanna accidentally see something.”

“It was one time,” you say, snatching your phone back with an eye roll.

“And I’m still scarred,” he says. “What are you going to say back?”

“Nothing,” you say.

“But…” he starts.

“No, I’m not saying anything. I know I’m chill about this holiday, but to not even say anything? And what errand does he have to do at 7 in the morning?” you ask, more irritated that you had been.

“If you want to hold onto a grudge, who am I to stop you?” he asks when he stands. “Let me know if he manages to get out of the dog house.”

With that comment, he’s off to his own desk. It usually goes something like this every day anyway. Minho shows up with coffee for you, looking to see what you have to say. Even though he’s the one that has the best gossip. Sometimes, he just wants someone to share it with. It’s a nice reprieve from your irritation. One that he repeats in the afternoon, which is a break from the norm. Unfortunately, the irritation that settles in his wake is worse than before he stops by.

You consider staying at work late when the end of the day comes. It’s not like you’re in a rush to head home. There’s also a part of you that wants to punish Vernon for forgetting a holiday that you don’t even care that much about. (Okay, maybe you care, but that’s the whole point of having someone you love that also loves you to spend it with.) Staying late by yourself feels even worse when nobody else from the office is. Everyone seems to be out the door as soon as the day ends. And, despite not answering any of Vernon’s messages, you know he’s home. At least it’ll give you the chance to figure out how to approach this.

The drive home gives you a chance to run through all sorts of conversations in your head. You’re still stewing, a bit, because you’re upset at how the day went. But, you’re also preparing yourself to have a potentially difficult conversation with Vernon. Of course, he’ll be receptive to your feelings. He always is. It’s more that you’re frustrated it happened in the first place and don’t want your feelings to seem invalid.

All of that goes out the window the second you step into your apartment. The lights are low, so it takes your eyes a second to adjust. When they do, however, you see that Vernon has transformed your living room into a scene from your favorite video game. It’s like stepping into another world. Every little detail is so carefully thought out that you can’t even appreciate it all in one look. Your feet carry you forward to examine the small things. The ones that very obviously took extra effort. You’re so busy appreciating it all that you don’t even notice Vernon coming in from the kitchen.

“I know we said no presents, but I wanted to do this anyway. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, pulling you out of your head.

“How did you…” you ask, unable to even finish the question.

“I found someone who had this whole set for their ex and wanted to get rid of it. He was practically giving it away, but I had to go pick it up like 2 hours away,” he says.

You look around and can tell the level of care that went into creating this. “That’s why you were gone when I woke up?”

“Yeah, I left you notes on breakfast in the fridge and coffee in the microwave, but I guess you didn’t see those,” he says.

“I’m so sorry,” you say and don’t even realize that tears started to fall until Vernon’s pulling you into his arms.

“It’s fine, what are you sorry for?” he asks, holding you tightly.

“I spent the whole day thinking you forgot Valentine’s Day and being mad. That’s why I didn’t answer your texts,” you say.

“I just figured it was a busy day and you were excited to get home,” Vernon says.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat.

He pulls back so that he can look down at you. Wipes the tears gently away from under your eyes. “It’s fine, babe. I’m not upset at you when I can be forgetful.”

Nobody has ever done something like this for you. You can’t imagine how long it took to transform the living room this way. There aren’t any words you can think of to express how much it all means to you, so you just press your lips against his. Throw your hands around his neck to keep him close to you. He’s surprised, at least for a second, before he pulls you in tighter against him and kisses you back. It’s not the time to talk, at least not right now. How could you have thought this man would ever forget?

“Can I show you what I was thinking about before I realized you were already gone this morning?” you ask when you break the kiss.

“Should I be concerned?” he asks.

“Just trust me,” you say and pull him into the bedroom with you.

Any hesitations that he may have had disappear when you resume kissing him. Your fingers nimbly undo his pants so that you can slide them down his legs. The clothes come flying off in a flurry from there, far quicker than usual for the two of you. There’s just an urgency given the way the day went. Neither of you seems to want to let your lips leave the other. As Vernon kisses down your neck, you take the opportunity to push him back onto the bed.

It’s the first time you take a second and you appreciate how beautiful he is laying on the bed. The lean lines of his muscle, his eyes hungry as they drink your body in, the way his cock rests heavily on his stomach. You need to do something, though. You nudge his legs apart as you settle yourself onto the bed between them.

“You don’t have to…” he starts and you’re quick to cut him off.

“I want to,” you insist.

And you do. You take his cock into your hand and lick a stripe up it. It’s not enough, though, so you spit into your hand so you can run it along his length. He shudders under your touch. Once you wrap your lips around his tip, you pull a groan out of him. For just a second, his eyes close and his head lolls back on the pillow. It’s so pretty to watch him from this angle. To know that this man, usually so relaxed and chill, is so wound up under your power. It’s not long before he’s watching you, though. Letting out a stream of praise for how good you look with his cock in your mouth. How it turns him on, how you know just how to use your tongue. You hollow out your cheeks and it’s more than he can take.

Vernon pulls you up so that he can kiss you, so hard that you lose your breath. You’re a little off balance, which makes it easier for him to flip your positions. Now he’s the one between your legs. That same fervor is back when he spreads your lips so he can lick up your entrance. He’s always been insanely good with his mouth. It’s actually unfair. When his thumb circles your clit, you see stars for a second and arch your back into his mouth. All you can do is watch as he works his tongue in and out of your cunt. The thumb on your clit is bordering on too much sensation. Makes it hard for you to watch him even though you love the sight of him between your legs.

“Fuck, Vernon, I need more,” you whine.

“I should make you draw it out,” he says, still so close to your pussy that you can feel his breath.

“Please, Vernon, please,” you beg. You know it’ll make him cave.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he answers.

He runs his fingers through your folds before sliding one into your pussy. The moment his mouth finds your clit, he inserts a second finger and pumps into you at a punishing pace. It’s everything you can do not to squirm under his efforts. As it is, the words coming out of your mouth are entirely incoherent. What you want to say is that he’s a god with both his mouth and his fingers. That he knows just how to fit you where you need him most. That nobody has ever felt as good as him.

What you manage to yell out: “Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna come.”

Vernon hums against your clit and it’s all too much. Your release is nearly instant. You don’t even notice how he guides you through your high or that he doesn’t remove his fingers until your body stops shaking. Miss the way he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing you. Not that you would mind. His lips wander down your neck to your chest, kissing all the way. He loves your breasts, loves the soft skin there. Loves to nip and watch the way you react. Most of all, he loves to leave marks there. Even if you won’t let him mark you where other people can see (at least, not often), you’ll always let him mark up your chest. He roughly sucks a mark into your sensitive skin and you squirm.

Any other time, you would let him enjoy it. Let him take his time. Not today. You need to feel him. Need to have that connection with him. He seems to realize it too.

“Roll over on your side,” he directs.

You hasten to do exactly what he asks. He slides right in behind you and you bring your leg forward a little so that it’ll be easier on him. One of his arms slides under your neck. The other lines his cock up at your entrance. He presses lightly, at least at first, giving you time before he’s fully inside you. No matter how many times you and Vernon fuck, you’ll never be fully prepared for the way he feels. It’s the most perfect type of full. Just enough of a stretch without it being overwhelming.

It’s only a second before he starts moving, with his hand on your stomach. Not too fast. Just enough to give you the relief that you need. Not enough that it’s going to push you over the edge again. You’re still sensitive, though. The connectedness of your bodies is exactly what you need. It’s intimate in all the ways that you couldn’t tell him that you needed. But, he knows. Of course, he knows. This man knows you better than anyone else, a fact clear in how he thrusts into you.

Vernon’s free hand moves from your stomach up to your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and you groan out. That’s the other best part about your relationship with Vernon. There isn’t a need for constant communication during sex. He knows what you like and you know what he likes. He knows how to interrupt your moans and your pleas. Knows when to pick up the pace.

It’s entirely too soon when you feel your second orgasm coming on. “I’m close, oh my god.”

“I know, baby, just come for me,” Vernon urges as he continues to thrust hard into you.

Despite that, you try to hold out because you know that he’s not there yet, can feel it in the way he fucks into you. It’s a losing battle, though, and you end up coming even harder than the first time. Vernon fucks through your high before slowing down to give you a minute to breath. Always so considerate of what you need.

“It’s okay, keep going,” you urge.

He doesn’t have to ask if you’re sure, he can feel it in the way you clench around him. Makes him groan as he moves again. You’re still a little out of it from the two orgasms, so it doesn’t register just how sensitive you are. You tilt your head so that you can kiss him. Catch all his groans with your lips. Partly since you know how much the intimacy of it all means to him. Know that it’ll send him over the edge.

A minute later it does just that. Even though you feel spent, he manages to pull a third orgasm out of you with his own. There’s a moment when you’re both catching your breath that neither of you move or even say anything. It gives you a moment to remember just how much you love him. Vernon slides out of you carefully and you roll over so that you can face him.

“I love you,” he says with a soft smile, fingers gently moving a few strands of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you say.

“Do we have to get up right now?” he asks.

You shake your head and let him pull you into his body. His arms feel strong and safe around you. Like home, which is what he’s always been for you. From entirely too early into the relationship. A feeling that’s only grown in the time you’ve been together.

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

“You don’t need to be, “ Vernon assures you. “I’m forgetful sometimes and you’ve been busy lately. I figured this was a good way to say thank you for everything you do.”

“What? The sex?” you joke.

He huffs into your hair. “I take it all back.”

You pull back to look at him. “It was perfect. Almost as perfect as you.”

A light blush creeps up. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” you whisper into his skin when you cuddle back against his chest.

“We still have to cook dinner,” he says.

“Let’s just order something. I don’t want to move from this spot right now,” you say.

“We can stay as long as you want,” he says.

Forever, you think. That’s how long you want to stay with him. It’s never felt more real than it does right now. You think, by the way he holds you, that maybe he wants to be with you forever too. It may have gotten out to a rocky start, but it ends up being the most perfect Valentine’s Day of your life.

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httpiastri · 4 months ago

Text

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER FOUR (MONACO)

genre: fluff, angst, etc.

warnings: heartbreak as usual

word count: 5.3k (like, exactly 5.3k. on the word. 😭)

author's note: it feels so wrong to say that im posting this to celebrate ollie's graduation to f1 because... this is such a sad chapter.... pain pain pain for everyone involved (especially ollie) 💔 but yay happy ollie f1 announcement day!!! hope you're all doing well & hope you enjoy <3 (also i wrote a lot of this chapter back in february? and proofreading it today nearly brought me to tears bcs of ollie-)

series masterlist

the career of a racing driver is a roller coaster for everyone involved.

if your name is max verstappen, then you've got more ups than most others. that roller coaster seems pretty fun.

but if your name is y/n harper, then your roller coaster isn't as fun these days. but if there’s ever a place to turn things around, it's monaco.

even just the track walk is enough to bring up your mood after a bad week like last. walking along the monegasque streets, almost getting hit by cars as you sign autographs and take pictures with fans... it's an experience you just can't find anywhere else.

coincidentally enough, ollie is done with the track walk just as you are, which means that the two of you can make your way back to the f2 paddock together. your boyfriend has always loved monaco – he pretty much doesn't ever shut up about the track and it's history unless you tape his mouth shut when you're in the country. that's why it's surprising that he not only brings up another subject, but also that he chooses a quite sensitive one – your father.

"he's going to be here this weekend, right?" ollie asks, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. he seemingly doesn't quite understand just how tense things are with your dad yet. to be fair, it isn't really his fault, since you haven't told him and since he isn't a mind-reader. but still, something in your chest tightens at the way ollie brings him up so casually.

you nod. "you know how much he adores monaco," you say with a sigh, before putting on your best impression of your dad. "the most iconic track ever, the only track to ever... blah blah blah."

having your dad along for races was always a given when you were younger. he was your best helmet carrier, your number-one supporter, and the first person you went to when celebrating or complaining.

but somewhere along the years, having him around started to become more problematic and anxiety-inducing. his support turned into criticism, and it became far more common for him to tell you to "go apologize to the engineers and ask them what you should do to perform better tomorrow" rather than give you any constructive feedback of his own.

at first, it was rough; the man who had always been your pillar to lean on, your main source of support, your safe haven, was seemingly gone. you continued to perform well, though you weren't sure if that was because you wanted to make him proud or if you were terrified of making him disappointed.

"let's have dinner with him someday, then," ollie suggests as the two of you come to a stop right outside the prema garage for the weekend. "maybe sunday, if we have things to celebrate?"

"let's hope so."

pepe calls your name once, twice, thrice, before he resorts to shaking your shoulder gently. his touch, along with the sound of the spaniard's raspy laughter, makes you finally wake from your slumber. you blink up at him, eyes droopy and mind empty. "what?"

"why are you sleeping?" pepe asks, shaking his head. "quali starts in... about an hour."

you begin to slowly push yourself up from the couch you've been lying on, yawning loudly. "i was supposed to just rest my eyes," you start, rubbing your eyes with your hands. "i didn't mean to fall asleep..."

"did you not sleep well last night? were you up late again?" pepe asks as he sits down next to you, watching you stretch your arms over your head with yet another yawn.

what are you supposed to say? yes, i was up until four am because i couldn't find any peace of mind at all? i've been dreading every second of this weekend because i never know when my dad will appear from around the corner? i'm scared he's going to be so mad over my performances that he disowns me?

pepe may know a lot of what's going on with your father, but he doesn't need to know this much.

you did, in fact, meet him earlier today, right before practice – if greeting him briefly and then instantly bolting in the opposite direction counts as a "meeting" – but since then, he's been nowhere to be seen. not even around dino or ollie when you last saw the two of them.

pepe takes your silence as an answer in itself, and he lets out a hum. "well, i'm quite nervous myself," he says frankly, pulling a hand through his hair.

"you did so well here last year, though." you nudge his shoulder with yours. "you'll be great again, i'm sure of it."

"dinner with the prince on sunday? both of us?"

you nod, shooting your friend a smile. "of course." but despite how much you wish it would become a reality, there's not even the slightest trace of faith in you. the only thing you can think about is how likely it is for this round to go in the same footsteps as your recent ones.

a great attitude to bring into a race weekend.

p9.

a top ten placement, sure. second in the reverse grid, sure. but other than that, there's not much positive in it. it's a step in the right direction, but in some way, it feels like a step that's way too short.

the sprint race starts with an incident right by you on the track, which is extremely unlucky for you since you get pretty much blocked and have nowhere to go. after being passed by several cars, the safety car finally comes out, and you find yourself in p7.

of course your father's words echo in your head all the way through the safety car period. "starting p2 means a free podium," he had told you when he stopped by right before you were getting into your car. "don't mess it up."

you're so focused on that expression on his face, the way he tilted his chin up and his head slightly to the side as he spoke, and the way it felt like your heart stopped beating for a few seconds, that you don't even realize that your engineer has told you about the safety car being about to end. you don't even acknowledge the fact that the race leader has taken off, nor that the rest of the field starts pushing again before it's too late.

some blue car tries to overtake you on the outside, and with another car on your inside you have no chance of giving either of them space – and you manage to crash into them both. not only did you ruin your own race, but also two other drivers'.

and of course, one of the cars buried into the wall next to yours is a silver hitech with a big number 17 on it.

climbing out of your car, you can hear several voices calling out for all three of you from the grandstand nearby, and you consider throwing them a wave as you climb through the metal fence to get off the track. but then, you hear one voice that's more familiar – one that belongs to the last person you want to talk to right now. "are you alright?"

you almost don't look at him, but the little glance you shoot him is enough to take in every single bit of disappointment in his eyes. what are the odds that your dad was sitting in the grandstand right where you crashed?

a nod is enough of an answer you reckon, pulling your helmet off your head and beginning to walk the way towards the paddock again. "do you want me to carry that?" your dad asks, having gotten past the security guards after showing his pass, now jogging to catch up with you.

"i'm not ten anymore," you groan. "i can handle it on my own."

"i wasn't saying you can't-" he cuts himself off, placing a hand on your shoulder. "you looked really out of it out there."

you keep your gaze forwards so he won't see you rolling your eyes at his words, determined steps carrying you forward quickly as you shake his hand off. "oh, you could see through my visor? that's cool."

"what's gotten into you lately?" your dad pushes, and you flinch slightly at the harsh tone in his voice. "what's wrong with you?"

"what do you mean?"

"well, frankly, your driving had been shit recently." your eyes snap to him when he speaks, eyebrows furrowed. "it looks like you're not even trying."

you stay silent for a long while, trying to navigate your way back – and to a place where your dad hopefully won't be allowed – but you can't help but scoff. "thank's a lot."

"what? am i wrong?"

"yes, you're wrong!" you finally stop in your tracks, fully facing him by now. a hand goes up to your hair, pulling on it to relieve at least some tension. "i'm trying my best, i-"

"is there something going wrong with ollie?" your jaw drops. "i'll talk to him, i'll settle it with him."

"don't you dare!" you exclaim. "there's nothing wrong with ollie, okay?!"

"then what is wrong with you? why can't you score ten points in nine races?"

that's it – you're going to completely lose it if this goes on for even one more second. "leave me the fuck alone," you tell him, turning your head away so he won't get a chance to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

the worst part of it all? the fact that you agree with him. the fact that you can't even argue against it; nine points in five rounds is not a good result at all.

surprisingly enough, he doesn't follow you when you hurry away, allowing you to get to the paddock alone. the silence doesn't mean you can hold back from crying, however; it doesn't take long before your cheeks are stained with your tears, your breaths growing quicker and quicker for every step you take. navigating the paddock with blurry vision is hard, and you're basically just relying on muscle memory to take you back to the right part of the garage. just as you're rounding a corner, you bump into someone – someone whose white suit and broad, muscular shoulders are easy to recognize even through your tears.

the other last person you want to talk to right now.

"hey there," he says, a hand coming up to your shoulder to keep you steady as you stumble a little upon the impact with his chest. "are you- woah, are you crying?"

"leave me alone, paul."

he lets out a little chuckle, one he regrets in hindsight because it makes him sound like he thinks the state you're in is funny. "i can't just walk away when you're this upset, can i?" he asks, having to use all of his willpower to hold back from wiping away a few tears from your cheeks. "is it about the crash? i'm not mad at you, and i don't think victor is either-"

"i couldn't care less about the stupid crash!" you explode, a few sobs following your words. "i'm just- i can't-"

paul's eyes widen in surprise at your outburst, hand on your shoulder slipping further along so he's got his arm draped across your shoulders and it's easier for him to force you to walk with him. now it's your turn to have to hold back, wanting nothing more than to lean into his chest and just let out all of your tears. he pushes you with him into the hitech truck, looking around the lounge area to make sure no one's there before guiding you to sit on one of the sofas there. "what's going on? did something happen?"

"i'm a bad driver, that's what happened." paul slumps into the seat right next to you, eyebrows raised when he hears you speak. "i don't belong here, i don't know what i'm doing, i-"

"hey hey hey," he cuts you off with a shake of his head. "what have we said about this?"

you look down at the floor, wiping away a few tears from your cheek as you continue to sniffle in the silence that fills the area. a burning feeling spreads through your chest at his words, the familiarity of it all making your head spin. it isn't the first time you've been like this in front of him; through the almost entire year you dated, there were quite a few times when he'd have to console you after a breakdown. paul knows your issues like the back of his hand, he knows how hard it can be to convince you that you do belong. but he also knows to never give up.

"you are a great driver," he starts, hesitating for a moment before letting his hand rub your shoulder. the action makes your breath hitch in your throat, but not because it's wrong – it's because you've missed his touch, probably far more than you've admitted to yourself before now.

"even my lousy dad thinks i'm bad," you finally get out in-between sniffles, resting your face in your hands.

"and since when do you care about his opinion, huh?"

he's right. at least partially. but still, you remain hunched over, shaking your head. "i may act like it doesn't matter, but… him calling me all kinds of things…" paul allows you to gather your thoughts, his touch remaining gentle over your racing suit. "it hurt. a lot."

he hums understandingly, letting out a sigh. "when is that stupid little brain of yours going to understand that you're doing well?" his words should bring a smile to your lips – a few months ago, they would've. but now, you don't react at all. "no matter what he says, no matter what the critics say. you're a good driver."

after another few moments of silence, you drop your hands to your lap and look at him. there's a hint of curiousity in his eyes, surprised by your sudden eye contact. "why do you even care?" you question. he's been acting like a complete idiot these past few months – and after you literally cursed him out in melbourne, you haven't spoken a word to each other. and yet, he's taking time out of his day to comfort you like he would a year ago.

"come on…" he presses his lips together in a firm line, shaking his head. "no matter what happens between us, i'll always look after you."

his words, and maybe especially your emotional reaction to them, take you by surprise. despite the anger and frustration you've built up over the last few months, there's an undeniable warmth in his gaze that softens your defenses. the feeling of nostalgia and longing is so strong it's almost painful, as if he has reminded you of a connection you thought had been lost forever.

it's quite strange, considering everything that's happened. but you're not opposed to it.

"how are you feeling after the crash?" paul asks to break the silence as you reach up to dry away the last of your tears from your cheeks. "that was a big impact you had. i got away lightly in comparison."

for the first time since the crash, you stop to actually think about it and allow yourself to feel through your body. the adrenaline from the race has worn off by now, and there's a throbbing in your head that seems to just grow stronger by the second. "i think… i'm alright…"

"do you want me to go get ollie for you? the race should be done by now," he says, checking the clock on the wall in the truck. "he can take you to go see a medic."

you shake your head instantly. "please, don't. for real."

paul shoots you a strange, confused look, though he gives you a slight nod. "okay, but you have to tell him," he says, pausing a second before continuing. "i know that head of yours, you're going to combust if you keep hiding this. you can't go through it alone."

"i promise."

you don't end up going to the medical center.

you do, however, go find ollie yourself – but you don't tell him about your chat with paul. instead, you hope he doesn't take notice of the not-so-subtle signs that you've just had a complete meltdown.

it's easy to break promises to people who you don't need to stay truthful to, you realize. last year, you wouldn't even think about breaking a promise to paul – but an ex boyfriend is much easier to lie to.

your current boyfriend wraps his arms around you the second you step close enough. his lips press to the side of your head, his arms giving you another squeeze before pulling away.

ollie has gotten used to your red eyes.

he's gotten used to the sight of your tearstained cheeks, the slight pout on your lips, the heaviness in your sighs.

he's gotten used to the sinking feeling in his stomach, the pain in his chest, the guilt.

but he's also gotten used to not asking, because he knows you won't tell.

when you wake up on feature race day, something is different. it's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders after talking to paul; like the air is suddenly much easier to breathe, and the whole world seems a little lighter. you're much more excited for the feature race of the day than any race so far this season.

in today's race, it's ollie's time to crash out. it isn't his fault, though; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got squeezed up against the wall by a trident car. there was nothing he could do.

as soon as he's deemed free of injuries, he makes his way back to the prema garage, joining the team in watching the rest of the race. it's a good one for you; choosing to go with the opposite strategy has really worked out for you so far, with you and zak o'sullivan being the only two drivers in the top who haven't pitted yet.

ollie follows your car intently on the screen in the garage, secretly hoping for a safety car to come out and help you out with your strategy as it's nearing the last few laps. he almost doesn't pull out of his trance even when a hand lands on his shoulder. "she's doing great," dino says from behind him, the brit nodding along to his words. "especially considering... well, she must've told you about yesterday, so i won't repeat it to you."

yesterday?

ollie looks dumbfounded for a moment before he composes himself, though he has no idea what the swede is talking about. "of course."

dino lets out a chuckle, patting his friend's shoulder. "paul said she was a complete mess when he found her," he continues, not realizing he's giving ollie more clues to help figure out what in the world he's talking about. "her anxiety was all over the place, apparently. but she's recovering, she's strong. she won't let this affect her."

ollie hums agreeingly at his words, eyes still glued to the tv in front of him. "certainly," he finally gets out. "she'll get through it with ease."

and so you did – at least for this particular race.

the virtual safety car was incredibly lucky, but that's racing sometimes. with both you and zak changing your tyres in the last lap, you both managed to end up ahead of the rest of the field, and secure a podium each.

unlike in jeddah, seeing paul's car pull up right next to yours on parc ferme isn't all that bad. after yesterday's heart-to-heart with him, you feel like at least part of this podium is thanks to him. if it weren't for his encouragement, you likely would've stuck it in the wall again.

you don't ignore him this time. you don't scoff at his words, you don't feel frustrated at his mere presence. this time, you give him a tight hug when he comes over to congratulate you, arms around his shoulders forcing him close.

"thank you," you can't help but whisper, and paul is grinning from ear to ear when he pulls away from the hug.

"don't," he answers with a quick shake of his head. "you could always pull this off. you just needed a little reminder."

and not only do your shoulders and mind feel a bit lighter as you step onto that monaco podium, but most importantly, your heart.

"i'm exhausted," you huff as you shrug your bag off your shoulders, leaving it by the door as ollie, too, makes his way into the hotel room. "thank god this weekend is finally over."

you dive onto his already-made bed, landing face-down between the pillows and blankets. the bed is huge, probably over two meters in width, and unbelievably soft. it's the first time you feel like you can truly relax since you got to monaco, and every single cell in your body thanks you for allowing them to rest a little.

"and i don't even have any sim sessions scheduled in over a week. i'm the luckiest person ever." ollie lets out a chuckle at this, his own bag crashing to the floor with a thud before his feet carry him deeper inside the room.

you turn your head and watch as he picks out a water bottle from the mini fridge, but he doesn't drink from it. instead, he makes his way to the bed, choosing to just stand next to it at first. you can't really read his expression, so you speak up – but he beats you to it. "ollie-"

"can we talk?"

you press your hands into the mattress, sitting up properly. "of course," you say, a look of unknowing dejection spreading across your features. "what's wrong?"

"that's... what i wanted to ask you, actually." ollie finally sits down on the bed, but on the opposite side of it, far from you. "what's going on? what happened yesterday?"

"oh, well..." you pause for a second, eyebrows rising as you try to find an explanation. "i just had a bad day, i didn't realize that the safety car-"

"i don't mean the race, i mean what happened after the race." his eyes are piercing into yours, not missing even the slightest movement of your face now. you've got his full attention. "with paul."

your breath hitches in your throat and you instantly look away. your voice is as low as a whisper when you speak again. "i can't believe he told you..."

"he didn't. it was someone else, but that's beside the point." you don't know if you should feel relieved that paul didn't tell ollie, or furious that he told someone else who then told ollie, but you don't have any time to think before his voice infiltrates your thoughts again. "i heard you were... i'm not going to use the same word he did, but i heard you were really upset. something about anxiety, or..."

he hopes you'll pick up where he trailed off, and despite how you're really not in the mood for this conversation right now, it feels unavoidable. "i guess... yesterday's race was really rough on me. and my racing has felt really bad recently, the anxiety has been through the roof, and..." your eyes land on your hands, watching as your fingers tremble slightly in your lap. "i don't know. something about yesterday just triggered it all again."

out of the corner of your eye, you can see ollie nodding understandingly. "how long have you been feeling like this?"

"since always, basically." a single teardrop rolls down your cheek before you even notice that you've started tearing up. you hurry to wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. "my mom likes to tell this story about how i used to cry if i performed poorly when i was jumping rope in kindergarten. or about how one time, i came home sobbing over the fact that i thought i was getting kicked out of kindergarten because my drawings weren't as good as the other kids'." the old stories bring a soft smile to your lips, one that soon disappears when you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut. "it's not usually this bad, but…"

you sigh.

"it's like... imposter syndrome. i'm one of the very few women in motorsports, and i can't help but think that i'm just here because the fia wants to make the sport more equal. or because my sponsors think it's funny to have a woman among the men. or if i'm just here as eye candy. i don't deserve this, i don't have enough talent."

your little rant makes him speechless – both because he didn't expect it at all, and because to him, you're so wrong.

"you're here because you do deserve it and because you consistently perform good results, unlike most other drivers. that has nothing to do with your gender." ollie pauses for a second. "if you didn't have enough talent, you wouldn't be performing this well in a series this hard."

you can't hold back the little smile that slips onto your lips. "this is all very sweet, and i really appreciate it. but it's not that easy for me to just accept what you're saying."

yet again, he nods. "i understand." his voice is so calm, so gentle, so patient. it makes your heart soften. "i'll make sure to remind you of it more often, so that maybe it sticks."

"thank you, ollie."

a long silence follows, and you take the time to brush away a few more tears that have left your eyes. you don't know what to say or how to follow up on this heavy subject, but you don't have to think much more.

"why did you go to paul instead of me?"

your eyes dart to him at the sudden question. he's sounded so composed and calm, but he actually looks quite... nervous? his fingers are fiddling with the lid of the water bottle in his hands, and his entire upper body looks like it's trembling slightly as he breathes. "i didn't," you tell him simply. it's not a lie, per se. "he just happened to walk in on me crying."

"but why did you tell him?" ollie questions, looking up at you from the bottle. "i thought you two weren't even talking these days? ever since that fight you had?"

he is right. you don't even know why you confided in him yourself – it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. you didn't even try to deny his help; you welcomed it (and him) with open arms.

"we talked about my struggles last year," you finally say, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. "so he knew already. and… i don't know, i guess it felt nice to talk to someone who really knows me."

"but i want to know you." he takes a deep breath before continuing. "i want to know more than your birthday and your favorite color. i want to know it all; what makes you feel good, what makes you anxious, what keeps you going, what slows you down..."

the physical distance between you two may only be a mere two meters, but you feel much more separated than that. you totally understand where he's coming from – he might be exaggerating a little, but your conversations with him are never really deep. though not sure whether it's because you just don't trust him or because you just have a hard time opening up, you can understand the despair he must be feeling.

when ollie notices that you aren't too keen on saying anything, he keeps going. "i want you to trust me. i want to be the person you tell these things to." he scoots closer to you on the bed, one of his hands landing on top of your knee. "i really want to make this work between us. my feelings for you are so strong, just..."

the pain in his eyes is so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, his gaze cutting through you like a knife. your own eyes begin to well up again, but you can't look away now.

"i really want you to give this, give me, a chance."

you've never seen him like this before. hopeless, desperate, practically begging. and in an instant, the guilt comes creeping back into you.

you're the one who's making him feel like this; it's all your fault. and how cruel wouldn't it be to not at least give him an honest chance?

"of course." your voice is weak and shaky, but you nod. "i want that, too. really."

ollie drops his water bottle to the floor before opening his arms wide for you. "come here."

it's easy to climb into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he holds you close. it's easy to lean into him, to inhale his sweet scent, and it's so easy to relax.

you wish it was as easy to open up to him. oh, how badly you wish it was as easy as a-b-c or do-re-mi. you really want to let him in; you, too, want this to work.

the silence that follows is a comfortable one. the air feels thick with unspoken emotions, a heaviness of the previous conversation still lingering, but there's an unspoken understanding between you and ollie. the previously well-known weight of the world on your shoulders seems to lift, if only momentarily; his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back is like a silent reassurance that he's there, he's present, and he's willing to wait for you to open up in your own time.

after what feels like an eternity, ollie breaks the silence. "let's do something. let's go on a vacation together."

you lean back slightly, just enough to look at his face but stay in his hold. "…what?"

your reaction isn't exactly what he had hoped for, but he goes on. "i'm going back to italy this week, you should come with me." he reaches up with a hand to your face, thumb softly massaging away the frown you hadn't even noticed had formed. "we'll travel around, go see the national parks, hike in the mountains... swim in the sea, eat at good italian restaurants..."

your features soften at his suggestions; it all does sound very sweet. still, you can't hold back from asking, "but why?"

"we have almost a month until the next race weekend, and you said that you don't have any sims this week. this could help take your mind off racing, and..." a sheepish smile appears on his face. "maybe it could make us get a little closer."

uncertainties and conflicting thoughts continue to cloud your heart, making the decision harder than it should be. on one hand, accepting the offer could offer a much-needed reprieve from all the pressures of the racing world. on the other hand, your unresolved feelings for paul still hold you back. spending a romantic holiday with ollie sounds like a dream, just as much as the mere thought of revealing yourself to him makes you nauseous from the fear.

but you want to be brave. and maybe to let go of paul, you need to just forget about your worries and dive head-first into ollie.

"it sounds perfect. let's do it."

yourusername just posted!

yourusername we're back baby!! leaving monaco with some good points. 🔜 barcelona and the team's home race, let's go 😁

show all 78 comments

user finally back on the podium! ❤️💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great drive today !!!

→ user it was just luck 😭 without the vsc she would've never gotten that podium

→ user okay and??

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

olliebearman what's up with the hair dinobeganovic_

→ yourusername it's called fashion

→ dinobeganovic_ it's called waking up at 5 for a feature race

→ user you're still gorgeous dino 😚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam 💪💙❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

sebasmontoya58 pepe don't punch the girl, she did nothing wrong

→ yourusername i did nothing wrong!!!

→ pepemartiofficial tell him what you did

→ yourusername never

→ pepemartiofficial sebas check your whatsapp

→ yourusername YOU WOULDNT

→ pepemartiofficial i totally would

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 9 months ago

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Omg can you write like agatha harkness/reader? reader being all innocent and shy but she is ready to have sex with agatha for first time a very fluff and soft smut🩵

Tender Temptations

Experienced!Agatha x innocent!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, A fingers and eats out R, mostly fluffiness

Word count: 1.3K

A/N: It was so hard for me to not have Agatha just jump reader because my instinct is to just dive right in lol. I think this came out good?

You considered yourself lucky to have Agatha as a girlfriend. When she first caught your eye you didn’t think she’d ever be interested in you, you were so much younger than her; she probably considered you a child, but it was just the opposite. Agatha was the one to ask you out, the one who took you places, and paid for things and never once made you feel like a child for how young you were, sure you were twenty-one, but Agatha was forty-two. She’s twice your age and yet it never felt that way.

Agatha had told you at the beginning of your relationship that she’d leave it up to you when you’d like to take the relationship further when you had told her that you’d never actually done anything and you weren’t sure if you were ready to just start doing it. She respected your boundaries and even when you started spending the night at her house all curled up against her on the couch or when you two headed to bed for the night you’d wrap yourself up in her. Feather light kisses on your lips, your jaw, your neck and every time it turned you on more.

It was like a build up that was taking forever to accomplish and one night it finally snapped for your, you could feel the ache between your legs that had built up throughout the week as you gripped onto her night shirt. She pulled away to look at you, her normally bright blue eyes darkened by her blown out pupils. Your breath caught at the sight,

“What is is dear? Do you want to stop?” She asks in her normally sweet tone, but lust is woven into it, it’s breathier than usual. You shake your head.

“No I...I want...” You feel yourself blushing as you hide your face against her chest that she quickly coaxes you back out.

“No, no dear none of that. Talk with me. What is it that you want?” Her voice is enough right now to make a pool form between your thigh as you rub them together. You bite your lip, looking up at her,

“I want you Aggie...” You whisper and when she doesn’t respond immediately you think maybe she didn’t hear you and as you go to say it again she responds.

“Are you saying what I think you are dear?” She asks cupping your cheek to which you lean against, rubbing your face against her.

“Yes...I’m ready please.” You can’t see it, but Agatha can see just how blown out your own eyes are.

“Okay dear if at any point you want to stop do you remember what I told you to say?” She asks, moving your positions slightly so you’re now on your back and she’s leaning above you.

“Yes I do. Magic.” She smiles, leaning down and giving you a quick kiss.

“Good girl.” She husks in your ear, sending shivers through you until you feel more wetness leave you. Agatha slowly starts at your neck leaving kisses and little bites which make you moan out and she just wants to go all out after hearing you moan, but she controls herself, she holds back, wanting to make this amazing for you. She wants you to want more of her always.

She trails down to your cropped pajama shirt. Though it was the end of February Agatha kept the house warm enough that you were almost always in shorts and tank top or crop tops. She lets her fingers ghost the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take it off?” She asks and you nod, she pulls the piece over your head and she just admires your chest for a moment before leaning down, cupping both and gently massaging them. Just when you thought the feeling couldn’t get better her mouth latches onto one of your nipples and she sucks gently, tongue flicking over the hardening nub. Your back arches at the contact and a moan rips through you at the feeling it gives you. If this little bit felt this good you couldn’t wait for her to be between your legs. Sure you had masturbated before, but you’re sure it has to feel even better with someone else.

“A-Aggie...please...” You whine out as Agatha moves her mouth to your other nipple, another moan ripping through you. “Please...please...” As she detaches, opting for her thumbs and forefingers to pinch lightly and roll the hard little nubs she smiles down at you.

“What is it dear? What are you trying to ask me for?” She asks with faux concern for you.

“Need you.” You manage out through your moans and Agatha thinks it’s the most beautiful sounds she’s ever heard.

“I’m right here dear.” You whine and wriggle beneath her. You know she wants you to say it. It was something she had mentioned once when you brought up what would happen when you were ready and how she would need you to be extremely clear with her about what you wanted otherwise she wouldn’t do it.

“Need you inside me. Please Aggie please.” You beg looking up at her and her beautiful brunette hair and those loving blue eyes that are so full of love even when they’re blown out from lust.

“Does it feel icky down there dear? All wet and sticky?” You nod frantically, unable to get words out. “Don’t worry dear Mommy is gonna take care of you.” You feel another pool come out and moan as she starts pulling your shorts and panties off. The string of wetness attached from you to your panties and you hear Agatha moan at just the sight of how wet it is between your thighs. She throws your shorts and completely soaked panties on the floor as she traces her fingers through your folds making you twitch and your hips buck. She doesn’t make you wait long as she starts with one finger, pushing into you slowly. A long strangled moan leaves you.

“Are you okay dear?” she asks as her finger stops.

“Yes, please keep going. I promise if it’s too much I’ll tell you.” She smiles and pulls her finger out before pushing it back in starting up a rhythm until you’re begging for more which she happily obliges you to another finger and she leans down at the same time giving your clit some much needed attention. You grip onto her hair as she moans from your taste.

“Ah...Mommy gon’ cum!” She smiles against you carrying on with her rhythm until you’re clenching around her fingers and riding her face as you moan out until your lungs and throat hurt as you collapse onto the bed, breathing heavily.

You whine at the loss of her fingers as you clench around nothing, she shushes you and peppers you with kisses. Showering you in praise. “You were so good. My good girl weren’t you? You were. I’m so proud of you dear. You did such a good job for me.” Every bit of praise you soaked up like a sponge enjoying it probably a little too much, but it didn’t matter you just wanted her. You tried to cling onto her, but she stopped you. You whined out, giving her your infamous pouty lip.

“We need to clean you up. Let’s go have a bath dear.” You groan a bit, but Agatha picks you up and you cling to her. Agatha always loved holding and carrying you when she could.

Once the bath was ready she dipped both of you into it as you leaned back against her, playing with the bubbles she had decided to put in. You watched you with a smile on her face, wondering how she got so lucky that you’d want to be with her? She leaned over, kissing your cheek and making you giggle. She could tell your headspace was still a bit floaty as she pulled you closer.

“Mmmm I love you so much dear.” She trailed kisses over your shoulder.

“I love you too Aggie!” She smiled against your skin, looking up at your face, the smile on your face the most beautiful she’s ever seen. She thinks,

‘I’m the luckiest woman ever.’

#ley speaks #ley writes #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #innocent!reader

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dreamingofep · 3 months ago

Text

Behind the Curtain: A Sinned Awakening Story🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, mentions of blood, SMUT,

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Hello again! I have found some inspiration regarding Vampire!Elvis 🫣 I've had this idea for a while and thought to make it a stand alone one shot but why not make it part of the Sinned Awakening universe? I think it works well considering what goes on in this part😉 Elvis is on his worst behavior in this one... you've been warned hehe.

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

Las Vegas, February, 1974

You could hardly believe that it was a year, almost to the date, when you first met Elvis here in Las Vegas. It felt like another lifetime since you first saw each other and fought that undeniable attraction. Through struggle and heartache, you both could not deny the connection you had. Now you were a vampire too, madly in love with Elvis Presley. More in love than you thought was ever possible. He constantly reminds you of that fact too. How he cannot believe you are his and drowns you in his love.

He was about to open his winter residency at The Hilton tonight. He was as usual, very nervous and couldn’t contain it. You tried to stay backstage to calm him down. He said you made him feel more relaxed when you were right next to him. But the other issue on hand tonight was that he hadn’t been feeding. He took rehearsing so seriously for these shows and put all his time and energy into practicing these last few weeks to make this the best show anyone has seen. You tried to gently remind him to take the time to feed but he always dismissed it. He would assure you he was fine and would feed later but of course, he wouldn’t. You can sense how hungry he was just standing next to him. He was trying to focus on getting mentally ready for the show but the overwhelming scent of blood from every human in the audience was driving him insane.

It was almost time for the curtain to go up and you had to get to your seat. Jerry was waiting to escort you to the ballroom and take his seat with you. Elvis didn’t trust anyone anymore and was forever paranoid that someone would try to take you again. Even with you being a vampire and stronger than ever, he didn’t want to take a chance. So any show you went to, Jerry always accompanied you. He was always such great company and never complained he had to escort you anywhere.

You tell Jerry you’ll be right there and quickly pull Elvis to the side.

“Baby, are you okay?” You ask low, squeezing his hand. He looks at you nervously, his eyes darker than you’ve seen in a long time.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous that’s all,” he says flatly.

“I know. But you still haven’t fed have you?” You say bluntly.

He looks down and shakes his head no. You reach for his face to look back at you.

“It’s okay. You’re going to have an amazing show tonight. Just focus on me. If you can’t control your thirst up there, focus on me. That’s what I’ve always done and it always helps,” you try to assure him. He nods his head and smiles at you sweetly.

“Then after the show you better feed,” you scold him.

“I will. Thank you, baby,” he says leaning down for a kiss.

You go walk with Jerry and take your seats in the center booth, your usual spot. The house was packed and was buzzing with excitement. There was a lot of anticipation for this engagement. The public was noticing a very different Elvis. He wasn’t the usual recluse who would avoid people at all costs. He wasn’t locked up in the penthouse for hours on end anymore. Elvis liked to be out and primarily show you off around town. It was a nice change. You were glad you could bring the more adventurous side out of him.

The band starts to play the opening riff and the crowd bursts in applause. Everyone is on their feet including yourself, waiting eagerly to see him come from the wings of the stage. You hear his heart racing away and he takes a deep breath before stepping onto the stage. The audience somehow gets even louder when they see him emerge with his white fringe jumpsuit and green macrame belt. It even has your jaw on the floor. Something about seeing him on stage with the dozens of lights on him somehow makes him look more attractive. Hell, you had seen him naked but something about him on stage in a jumpsuit had you incredibly weak.

He picks up his guitar and puts the strap on around his shoulders. He grabs the microphone and pulls it toward him, spreading his legs slightly as he stands there. His voice booms through the speakers and sends chills through you. He was so electric without even trying. His leg won’t stop shaking and it only draws your attention more to those impossibly long legs.

It was an hour of nonstop hits and some new songs he’d never performed live. He was just sensational. It never failed to amaze you to see him on stage and do what he does best. The crowd was rowdy and loved everything he did. How he would tease the audience, walking slowly to the edge of the stage to the screaming fans and quickly walking in another direction, leaving them begging for him. Or how he would move his hips in the most subtle of ways and leave everyone drooling for more, including yourself. You didn’t care how many times you saw him, there was no denying how that man would make you feel when he moved. You could feel the blood rush to your core if you thought about that for too long. You try to pull yourself together and not make it noticeable to Jerry that you are feeling a certain way about Elvis’ performance.

Can’t Help Falling in Love starts playing and Jerry motions for you to follow him backstage. The gold curtain dropped and the crowd was going wild for Elvis. He kneels on the floor with one leg stretched out, along with his arms and his head bowed. It was quite the thing to see. The most simple act of showing his appreciation to his fans. He gets up off the floor and everyone from the band congratulates him on a great show. You wait patiently to greet him. He deserved to be acknowledged by everyone. After some time, through the sea of people, you see him there. His hair was wet and his jumpsuit clung to his body. Your eyes meet through the crowd and your heart hammers uncontrollably. His eyes lure you in and make you feel like a puddle. Oh God, you know what the look means…

He walks through some of the crew and goes straight for you. He picks you up and holds you tight.

“Come here mama,” he whispers seductively in your ear.

Goddamn it, he just can’t help himself, can he? He wants you to lose all control right here right now.

“You were incredible honey! I couldn’t believe what you did up there,” you say as you hug him tightly. He sighs contently when he feels you pressed against him.

You feel his hands tangle in your hair and pull you in by the nape of your neck. He kisses you fervently, igniting a blazing heat inside of you. You cling to his wet body, needing to be as close as possible to him. He starts to walk backward, his lips never leaving yours. He pushes back through the black curtain that separates the band from the storage area of the backstage.

You quickly look around and see lots of sound equipment and storage containers for the band’s instruments. You glance back at Elvis and see that devious, dark, hungry look in his eyes. It makes you quiver. With a motion of his finger, he lures you in and beckons you to get closer to him standing in the corner. You willingly walk over to him feeling like putty already. His hair was an absolute mess and his chest glistened with sweat. He looked like he had just been fucked but you hadn’t laid a hand on him. Yet.

He was impatient and pulled you in quickly, pressing you to his body again. You softly groan with the way he’s touching you, urgently and unrelenting. He starts to kiss your lips again, groaning when he does this. His whole presence has you drowning. He was so on edge and adrenaline still pumped through him after completing such a stellar show.

You feel the hard concrete wall press against your back and Elvis’ hands squeeze any part of you he could touch first. He puts his hands on your hips and covers your face with kisses. Those lips will always leave you feeling breathless.

He leans into your ear, “I’m starvin’,” he groans. Your heart hammers away by just that notion.

You pull your hair to the side and expose your neck to him. “Go ahead baby, it’s okay,” you encourage him. You hear him take a deep breath in and suddenly feel him lick the side of your neck. You groan at the sensation and pull at his jumpsuit’s collar.

“I’m starved for all of you,” he groans as his hands go lower and brings your leg up to wrap around his hip. You feel his cock begin to get hard, pushing into your body and making you weak by the thought of having him.

He starts to ravage your neck with kisses, nipping and sucking at the spot where he wants to bite. You can’t help but get turned on by all of this, the way he was desperate for you was more than you could ever ask for. You feel his hands scrunch up your dress around your hips and his fingers find your aching bud. You gasp at the sensation and hold onto him tighter.

“Elvis, oh God,” you moan. He doesn’t lift his head from your neck yet, he is still fully wrapped up in your scent while his hands find new ways to make you a weak mess. You then feel his fangs enter your neck and you have to sniffle the moan he made you produce. He makes satisfied grunts as he starts to drink your blood, holding onto you tighter and teasing you more with those fingers. He was enjoying every second of this. He lifts his head up and you watch as he licks the dripping blood that falls down his bottom lip. His eyes looked much brighter and he had more life in his face. But he still looked dangerous. He was looking at you like he wasn’t quite done. He wasn’t completely satisfied.

You hold your breath as he looks at you like this. You’re unsure what to do or say right now. He takes a step back from you and eyes you up and down. You watch as his fingers start to unlace the jumpsuit. Your heart nearly stops when you realize what he’s about to do.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You whisper in a gruff fashion.

He doesn’t answer you, he just keeps looking at you like he did when you were human. You didn’t know it then, but he was on the verge of draining you when he looked at you like that. Lord, those heated looks should have killed you right then and there and they just might tonight. The laces were untied and he started to unzip the rest of the suit.

“What does it look like I’m doing baby?” He says low with a smirk on his face.

“Elvis right here? No, we can’t. Someone can walk by and catch us,” you panic, still hearing the hum of the crowd and chatter of the band members beyond the curtain.

He starts to shrug his arms out of the suit and looks down at how his cock is fully hard now, begging to be let out. God, you were a dead woman. You take one look at him and you’re ready to sink to your knees for him. He pulls down his jumpsuit a bit and you watch as his hand reaches in it to pull his cock out.

“Elvis, please,” you whimper. You’re not sure what you’re asking him at this point but you can’t handle any of this.

“You’re gonna be a good, quiet little girl for me okay? That’s how we’re not gettin’ caught,” he says seductively. You can’t tear your eyes off of him, his whole presence right now is dominating and you love it too much to stop it. He takes your hand and has you wrap it around his length. Without even thinking much of it, you start to jerk his cock, watching the pleasure wash over his face. It was addicting to see him so turned on. It didn’t matter how many times you were with him intimately, you couldn’t contain the pure shock that went through you as you touched him and felt the size of him. The heat that came off of him was overwhelming and he was throbbing in your hand.

“Fucking hell baby,” you gasp.

“You’re gonna let Daddy fuck you right here,” he growls in your ear. You freeze, you had never done something like this and you knew you were not prepared for any of it.

“Take your panties off for me,” he commands. His voice made your core throb and you looked down at his length. Precum started to come out of him and you couldn’t think any rational thoughts. You pull his foreskin back and spread the sticky fluid all over his tip with your thumb. He grunts and pulls away from you quickly.

He grabs your face in his hand to get you to look at his intimidating eyes and sharp fangs peeking out from his upper lip.

“I won’t ask again. Or do I have to rip them off with my teeth?” He growls. You whimper in agony, not ready for this man.

Your silence speaks volumes and he lets out a frustrated grunt. He lifts up your dress and he starts to sink to his knees. He nips at your thighs with his fangs and draws blood. He licks at the wounds greedily and inches closer and closer to your core, leaving little marks of his fangs all over your legs. You open your legs a bit wider, hoping his tongue might pay a visit to your aching bud. But he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted, he was only going to do what pleased him.

You watch helplessly as he bites at the elastic of your panties and tears them off of you in one motion. He lets them fall at your feet and you tremble uncontrollably. He looks back at you with a hungry stare, not liking that you didn’t listen to him.

“Always so difficult hmm? A good girl listens to me when I tell her to do something,” he hisses. You nod your head at him but it’s too late, you didn’t listen and you’re sure he’ll make you pay for it. He lifts you up and has you wrap your legs around his hips as you’re pinned to the wall. The grip he has on your thighs is tight and you can feel how bad he’s dying to fuck you. You feel the tip of him hover at your entrance and your eyes are blown wide, silently begging him for forgiveness.

“Baby please, I-I-I’ll listen. I’ll be good.” You try to beg but he doesn’t listen.

He swiftly enters you and you yelp at the forcefulness of his hips. You gasp for breath as he stuffs you with his cock. He quickly covers your mouth with his hand and continues to move inside of you.

“Good girl,” he grunts, “Take Daddy’s cock like only you can,” he says with a devious smirk. Your eyes roll back in your head at his tone.

He fills you hard and fast, giving you no time to adjust around his substantial girth. He revels how your sopping wet cunt hugs his length tightly with every thrust. You cling onto his shoulders and hold onto him for dear life. The only thing you can hear is the sound of you two breathing, trying to keep it together, and the sound of his cock plunging into your wet pussy. It was all torture. You wanted to move too but the grip he had on you was too tight for you to do anything. He takes his hand off of your mouth to watch your face drown in pleasure. He looks damn good like this. His hair was such a mess and was so concentrated on you.

You’re stuffed to the hilt and his hips move in short, powerful thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that can make you come on his command. You can’t stay quiet. He was killing you and he knew it. His hips were unrelenting and driving into you like he had never had you before. You tilt his head to the side and sink your teeth into his neck, muffling the scream he’s made you produce. He groans softly at your actions, finding it all amusing that he’s made you such a mess.

“Doing so good baby girl. You like how deep my cock is?” He groans in your ear. You dig your nails into his back, unable to handle what just uttered from his lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles.

Each movement of his hips made you hold back loud moans you couldn’t help but make. You were biting down hard enough on his neck to draw blood and let the delicious taste of him coat your tongue. You slowly drink his blood and feel your orgasm looming.

You take your fangs out of him and press your head to the wall, writhing in agony. You watch Elvis’ face smugly look at you and enjoy every second of this. You were so close to finishing, you felt your body become weaker and weaker with every thrust of his hips. Your ears suddenly pick up the sound of footsteps walking in your direction backstage. Your whole body freezes, petrified of someone walking by.

“EP, you back here?” A man’s voice calls out.

You look at Elvis terrified, you want to run away as fast as you can. He doesn’t let you budge though. He shakes his head at you and continues to hold you tight.

“I could have sworn I saw him go back here,” another man said. You recognize it’s Jerry. Damn it, no. You claw at Elvis’ arms, begging him to stop. He moves slowly but it is still so agonizing and a small whimper escapes your lips. His eyes flash a warning at you and proceeds to put two fingers to your lips.

“Shhh…Open those pretty lips baby,” he whispered. You helplessly do as he asks and he pushes his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck baby and be quiet,” he says, his voice low and gruff. You eagerly do so and swirl your tongue around his long fingers. His face looks intoxicated from what he is seeing you do. You slowly suck on them, liking to see his reaction to this act. His eyes don’t leave you for even a second.

“Fuck, just like that honey,” he praises. His hips drive into you harder and your eyes roll back, feeling yourself about to come undone. He was unrelenting and on a pursuit to make you come regardless if people were walking around backstage.

He pushes his fingers further into your mouth and stuffs you to the brink with his cock. You come hard and your walls squeeze around the base of his cock. You see fireworks behind your closed eyelids and your whole body shudders. He can’t hide how good you feel around him and his jaw drops when he feels you come. He can’t hold on much longer either and burrows his face in your neck, hiding his own muffled groans.

“Goddamn baby,” he growls. He thrusts his hips into you once, then twice and you feel his length twitch inside you. He pours his warm, thick load inside of you and groans into the crook of your neck. You gasp for air and your walls squeeze around him again, loving to hear how good he feels. He moves in and out of you slowly, making you both writhe because of how sensitive you are.

He lifts his head up to see your spent expression on your face. He takes his fingers out of your mouth and goes to kiss you. It was passionate and sloppy and you loved it. You moan into his mouth and pull at his wet hair. You look into his beautiful eyes and see how he can’t get enough of you. He gently takes his cock out of you and sets you back on the ground. Your legs feel weak and cling to his body as you try to regain your normal breathing.

He kisses the top of your head and makes a soft chuckle.

“You alright lil’ darlin’?” He asks coyly.

You look up at him with a mischievous glimmer in your eye. “Yes Daddy,” you say defiantly. Your hand wraps around his length and you slowly rub his head. You knew he’d be too sensitive to handle this and smirk to yourself. His hips buck into your hand and his face is shrouded in agony.

“Woman I swear to God-,” he growls. You stop briefly and hum softly.

“What baby? I'm being good, I swear,” you tease.

You pull down your dress and start to walk away from him with a smug smile on your face. You knew you got under his skin and you were amused by it all. You don’t make it very far backstage before you feel Elvis pick you up and throw you over his shoulder.

“Elvis!” You yelp. He chuckles low and makes quick strides to exit the backstage and into the elevator. He swiftly sets you down and presses the button for the penthouse. He smirks at you and takes your face in his hands as the elevator lurches up.

“It’s going to be a long night mama,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on your lips.

Tagging:

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy_

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11@that-hotdog.

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs @sloppiest-of-jos

#elvis presley #elvis presely smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #vampire elvis #70s elvis #sammykinz fics #fanfiction

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avastrasposts · 9 months ago

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A Baker's Dozen - Eleven**

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Hello!

The second to last visitor to the bakery is here and I can hardly believe it! Eleven weeks of Pedro boys have flown past and I've had so much fun with them!

So before we get started with number eleven, this series was meant to be all fluff, but then this Pedro boy arrived and just really got out of hand and I had nothing to do with it, he just took over!

So I had to ask my friend @morallyinept if I could use her very handy Scoville Smut Rating to issue some warnings. Thank you, Jett!

Series Master List

This chapter is rated:

🌶 - "Don't hurt me, cadejo."

Scoville Level 15,000. The Donis Cadejo Hot Sauce. (Buy the sauce here) The story contains mildly spicy smut. Tingles left on your tongue.

The week’s been slower than usual, as it always is in February, post-holiday blues setting in, everyone trying to be extra healthy and save some money. No time to be indulging in sweet things. Your shop does fine though, planning and prepping for Valentine’s Day and the upcoming wedding season.

But the slower hours in the shop makes you take note of the black car that’s been parked across the street all day. Nothing odd about that, but there’s also been someone sitting in the car all day. You’ve been glancing over as you go about your business, studying the man behind the wheel as he makes notes and phone calls, focused on something further down the street, out of your view. From the way he’s dressed, a crisp, well ironed, pale blue shirt, you’re guessing he’s an agent for some agency, or maybe a very well dressed private eye. He’s not doing a very good job though, he sticks out like a sore thumb on this street of small businesses. When he glances over at you just before noon, you give him a quick smile, to hide the fact that you’ve been staring at the way he’s been rubbing his large hand over his chin for the past five minutes. He locks eyes with you, surprise flitting across his face, before he gives you a crooked smile in return.

This is the beginning of a dance; you glance over to find him looking at you rather than the street in front of him, you raise your eyebrows in challenge and he seems to chuckle, looking away. You study his strong nose, the dark curls brushing over his forehead as he makes more notes, and he catches you staring when he looks over, one eyebrow arching in a questioning look and you shrug with a smile, going back to the cake you’re decorating.

It’s late in the afternoon when you notice movement in the street, a second car parking behind the first and a man getting out and walking over to the first car. Quick words are exchanged, you steal glances from the corner of your eye as you finish up an order for tomorrow. Bending down to put the order away, you hear the bell on your front door chime.

“Hi, I thought I’d stop by and say hello properly,” the man from the car is standing in front of the counter with a small smile as you straighten up.

“Hi,” you say, returning his smile as you take the chance to get a better look at him for the first time. He’s taller than you expected, and broad, so much broader than the side view you’ve had all day indicated. The light blue dress shirt is stretching over his shoulders and arms and you immediately decide that he must be an agent, no private eye is ever this fit, not that you have much experience, but still.

“I just wanted to introduce myself and explain what I’m doing,” the man says, nodding over at his car on the other side of the street, “And I hope I can count on your discretion too.”

“Uuhmm, sure,” you say, looking at him as he pulls a badge from the pocket of his suit trousers, “I was kinda assuming that you’re on some sort of stake out.”

“That obvious, huh?” the man chuckles, showing you his ID.

“Yeah, your sleek car and nice shirt gave it away a little,” you smile, “and the way you sat out there all day, I’m pretty sure every business owner on the street has spotted you.”

“I’ll need to fix that for tomorrow then,” he smiles, “I’m special agent Dave York, I’m with the CIA, and we’ve got surveillance on an apartment further down the street. I can’t tell you what it’s about but you don’t have to worry, it’s nothing dangerous for the neighborhood.”

“That’s good to know,” you reply, “And you’re welcome in for coffee or something to snack on whenever you want,” you thumb at the coffee machine behind you, “I’d offer delivery service but that might be a little bit too obvious.”

He chuckles at that and you notice the dimple on his clean shaven cheek, a slight five o’clock shadow indicating that it’s been a while since he got up and shaved this morning.

“I’d love a coffee right now, if you don’t mind,” he says and you point at the menu.

“What’ll it be?

“The dark roast, black, please,” he says, “You’ve got a good selection.”

“Thanks, people mainly buy bread and cakes, the coffee machine is mainly for me and a handful of regulars who like good coffee, we like trying different beans and roasts,” you throw him a smile over your shoulder as you prepare his coffee to go.

“I’ll have to become a regular then, keep your coffee business going,” he taps his card on the machine as you hand him the cup.

“I just realized I know who you are,” you say, the penny finally dropping, “One of my regulars, Mrs Levinson, knows your mom. Mrs Levinson bought a Lemon Meringue Pie for her a while back.”

“Oh yeah, those two are as thick as thieves, always trying to set me up on blind dates,” he chuckles, taking a sip of the coffee, “I’ve been blaming my workload to avoid them." He raises the cup to you with a smile, “Great coffee, I’ll definitely come back."

“If I don’t spot you, I’ll know you’ve done a better job of hiding,” you tell him and he laughs, giving you a cheesy thumbs up as he leaves.

You watch him take long strides across the street to his car, the coffee still in his hand, and just as he gets in the car, he turns and looks back at you, a smile cracking across his face as he raises his hand in a wave.

You do spot him the next day, but you are keeping an eye out for him, glancing out to see if he’s arrived. He parks a different car across the street this time, a beat up, rusty looking banger, and he’s in a ratty looking t-shirt and a beanie pulled low over his forehead. Much less ‘agent on a stakeout’ this time, but you still glance over at him from time to time, far too often in fact. And you bite back a smile when you catch him glancing over at you too, catching your eye on a few occasions as he winks.

Half way through the day he’s relieved, and he steps out of his car, coming over to the bakery again.

“Hi,” he says, giving you a dimpled smile as he pulls off his beanie, “Did I blend in better today?”

“Yeah, better,” you smile back at him as he comes up to the counter, “The distressed t-shirt was a good choice.”

“I had to dig it out from the bottom of some box left over from when I moved,” he holds up the front of it and studies the suspicious looking stain on the front, “I swear this is not my usual casual look.”

Holding up the front has resulted in the hem of the t-shirt lifting up over the edge of his pants and you can’t help but glance down as he flashes a few inches of skin, his sweat pants sitting low on his hips. The trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband has you momentarily distracted as you follow it down to-

“I’ll take your word for it,” you say, snapping your eyes back up to his, but not before he notices, giving you a small smirk, “NIce sweatpants.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles, “not as old as the t-shirt, but still not my best look, I promise.”

“I don’t mind that much,” you smirk back and he flashes a crooked grin, his eyebrow cocked, before he looks up at the coffee menu behind you and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you recommend today? I’m feeling adventurous,” he says, looking down at you again with a smile, “blame the sweatpants.”

“A single espresso shot vanilla hazelnut latte with salted caramel and whipped cream on top? I usually add some cookie crumbles too,” you say and Dave’s face falls, his eyebrows pulling together in a concerned look.

“Ah…uhh…” he stutters, rubbing his hand over his jaw, clearly looking for a polite way to decline your suggestion and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at his panic, but he catches the mirth in your eyes.

“Holy shit, you’re kidding,” he gasps out, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow as you start giggling.

“Sorry, I had to check if you’re serious about your coffee,” you wink at him as he shakes his head and puffs a relieved breath.

“Had me worried,” he says, “I thought I’d have to drink one of those to be allowed to stay a regular.”

“No, I think I’d have to kick you out if you did order one of those,” you smile, picking up the bag of new beans that just arrived, “Here, smell these, I just got them so I haven’t even tried them yet.”

Dave takes a deep breath and nods with a satisfied look, “That’s nice, can I try that?”

“Sure, I’ll make us one each. Single or double?”

“Double, please, this stake out thing is kicking my ass,” he says, leaning against the counter as you start the process of grinding the beans.

“Do you want some cake or something else too?” you ask, nodding at your selection.

“No, I’m good,” he says, “It all looks really good, but not today.” He does let his eyes drift over the cakes on display though and you smile to yourself, you know the type, sooner or later he’ll cave and get something as a treat no matter how strong his resolve it.

“Here you go,” you say, passing him his espresso, in a cup this time, “let me know what you think, if it’s good I might give it a permanent spot on the menu.”

You both take a few sips of the coffee in silence, humming at the flavors.

“It’s good,” Dave finally says, “Really good, I wouldn’t complain if it was a regular on the menu.”

“I agree, I’m going to order more,” you reply, draining the cup as he pulls his wallet out of his pants.

“Let me pay for both coffees,” he says, holding out his card, “as a thank you, for letting me come in and disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing, Dave,” you smile, “you can come in whenever you want.”

“Even if I’m not on a stake out?” he asks, a small smile playing around his mouth and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Especially when you’re not on a stake out,” you smile back and his dimple makes an appearance as his smile widens.

“I’ll remember that,” he says, tapping his card to pay for both coffees, “I’ll see you tomorrow though, more stake out.”

“See you tomorrow,” you say, returning the wave he gives you as he leaves.

He’s back the next morning, already sitting in the car as you come out into the shop to open up for the day. He looks tired, yawning big and rubbing his hand over his eyes as he leans his head against the headrest. You glance over at him while you work and serve the small morning crowd, but he doesn’t look back at you. Saying goodbye to the last customer you look over at the car again, Dave’s head is flopped to the side, mouth hanging open and eyes closed, sound asleep. The sight is adorable, the big CIA agent clearly exhausted if he’s passed out on the job. You grab your travel mug, the one you keep filled with coffee through the morning, and give it a quick clean. Filling it up with a triple espresso shot from the beans you’d had with him yesterday, you screw on the top and exit the shop. He stirs as your shoes scuff over the asphalt, jerking up as you lightly tap the window.

“Hey, want some coffee?” you ask, holding up the travel mug and he gives you such a look of relief and gratitude that it melts your heart.

“Thanks,” he says once he’s cranked down the window in the old car, “I’m dead here, can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Doesn’t do you much good on a stake out,” you say, “drop off the mug when you leave, and just wave at me if you want more coffee, I’ll come over with a refill.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he smiles, and you smile back, giving him a wave as you cross the street to the bakery.

Dave stays a bit more alert through the rest of the day, and gets relieved earlier than usual. You smile when he comes into the shop.

“Any luck with whatever you’re waiting for?” you ask as he hands you the travel mug.

“No, and we’re running out of time, this might be a waste of resources,” he says, shaking his head and yawning widely, “I’m sorry, I was up late last night, working on this and then I couldn’t fall asleep, too much stuff on my mind.”

“Go home, Dave,” you say, shooing him out of your shop with a smile, “You’re no good to anyone when you’re like this.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he says, “But I like our chats, makes this stake out more enjoyable than any other I’ve been on,” he suddenly looks a little bit shy as he’s half turned towards the door, a small smile as he looks back at you.

“I like our chats too,” you say, butterflies erupting in the pit of your belly, and for a few seconds you’re just ogling each other like a couple of fools, both too shy to say anything else. Dave clears his throat, a small chuckling sound, and looks at his shoes before he glances up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow, Dave,” you give him a wave and a small smile, biting your lip to hold back the bigger one that’s being pushed up by the butterflies as he returns your smile and leaves.

But the next morning you don’t see his car, or any other car that might be a covert CIA operation and you wonder if the stake out got canceled. The day passes slowly, the usual February slump slower than usual without Dave outside your window. Realizing you don’t have his number, you can only hope he’ll come back even though he’s not on a stake out. And when you finally see him the next afternoon, crossing the street at a slight jog to avoid a car, you feel yourself smiling before he’s even spotted you. When he pushes open the door he gives you a wide grin.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks, coming up to the counter as you put away your phone.

“Hi,” you smile at him, thanking your past self for changing the stained t-shirt and apron into something cuter, “I’m good, but things are slow today so I’m glad you’re here, it’s been kinda boring without the stake out to distract me.”

He chuckles at that, looking out onto the spot where his car had been for the past three days.

“Yeah, orders came yesterday to can it, another team has picked up a hotter lead so we’ve been working on that. But that place doesn't have any nice bakeries nearby, so it's a complete loss,” he says with a smile that makes your insides liquid.

“So you’re actually here when not on a stake out?” you tease him and he laughs.

“Told you I’d be back,” he says, pushing the sleeves of the sweatshirt he’s wearing up over his thick forearms and crossing his arms, scanning the coffee menu. “Should I go for another one of those nice beans, or should I be adventurous?” he asks.

You give him a crooked smile, tilting your head like you’re assessing him and he raises an eyebrow in question at you.

“What do you have in mind? That look is making me nervous.”

“I’m thinking….” you begin, “the regular coffee, but…you get a snack too, one of the cakes.”

Dave gives you a grin in response and begins to scan the cakes, “The carrot cake,” he says, pointing to one of the smallest slices covered in white cream cheese frosting.

“Good choice,” you smile, “it’s a best seller and I made it this morning.” You plate the slice and start making the coffee for him.

“It’s kinda healthy, right?” he asks, eyeing the carrot cake with suspicion, “It’s got carrots and all?”

“I mean, it’s still got sugar and fat in it,” you chuckle, “but it’s made with vegetable oil and not butter, so there is that.”

You bring the coffee to the counter and start making a coffee for yourself as Dave picks up the plate.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” you sputter out as you watch him scrape the frosting off the cake with the spoon, “That’s the best part!”

“It’s just fat and sugar,” he says, putting the dollop of frosting on the side of the plate, “I’m trying to stay healthy.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Dave,” you smirk, “if you don’t eat that frosting on the cake like the baker intended, I don’t think this friendship is going to last.” You point to yourself and raise your eyebrows in a challenge.

“You know, I usually don’t eat sweet stuff, it’s the job,” he says, “I need to stay fit for it.” He’s toying with the cake, the intonation heavy on the 'eat'. He's not looking at you, but there’s a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth.

“So indulge a little, it’ll be worth it,” you smile and he looks up at you, his smirk suddenly changing into something more challenging as he seems to evaluate you in silence for several long seconds.

“Only if you’re on the menu,” he says, his dark eyes pinning you in place while he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you on the menu?”

The question is direct as he slowly raises his eyebrows, the intention clear.

You feel your brain grind to a halt, Dave’s dark brown eyes are boring into you as you slowly inhale, you feel like he’s flicked a switch and turned on his professional side, but he’s not using it to interrogate you. Instead he’s using it to put pressure on you, to get you to tell him what you want.

What he wants.

Glancing down at the plate still in his hand, he swipes his finger through the frosting and slowly rounds the counter, coming up to where you’re still standing frozen by the coffee machine.

“Are you?” he says, repeating his question and slowly bringing his finger to his mouth, sucking the frosting off with a pop.

The tip of your tongue comes out to lick across your top lip and Dave glances down at your mouth, following the movement. Taking a step closer, he’s almost touching you now, you can feel the scent of his cologne wash over you as his eyes come back up to yours.

“I’d really like it, if you were on the menu,” he says, his voice low and dark, “but if you’re not, tell me, and I’ll leave.”

You swallow, still transfixed by his dark eyes on you, the way he’s looking at you, like he’s trying to read you and succeeding. You slowly nod your head yes.

Dave inhales softly, putting down the plate, “Use your words. Tell me I can kiss you,” he says, the frustration clearly thrumming just below the surface of his low tones as his breath skates across your cheek, his hands hovering just inches from your body, ready to grab as soon as you give him permission, “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all week but I couldn’t do anything.”

A shiver runs through your body, your hand shaking as you put your coffee cup down, slowly putting both your hands on the front of his gray t-shirt, feeling the bunched up muscles flex under your palms as you slide them up to his shoulders. Dave is watching you intently, a small crease between his eyebrows, his fingers twitching by your waist.

“Not here,” you say, dropping your hands to your sides, and side stepping him. He turns as you slip out past him, quickly walking the front door and locking it, flipping the ‘Back in five minutes’ sign. When you turn back, he’s still standing by the coffee machine and you pass him.

“Less nosy neighbors in here,” you say, holding out your hand to him.

He reacts in a heartbeat, taking your hand and crowding you as he pushes you further into the kitchen, out of sight. He lets go of your hand and grabs your waist, the other landing on your neck, his large hand easily spanning across it and up, cupping your cheek as he walks you backwards. The cool metal of the walk-in fridge hits your back and Dave’s towering over you, bending his face down so that his strong nose brushes against yours, his eyes almost black under his eyebrows, pulled together tight, and the hand at your waist bunching up your shirt.

“Now?” he husks and you nod.

“Yes, now.”

His mouth is hot when it reaches yours in a flash, he’s pushing you further up against the fridge as he angles his head to have more. There’s an edge of desperation to the way he holds you. The hand on your cheek keeps you where he needs you as he licks the seam of your lips. When you part them, his tongue is eager and needy, a groan escaping from somewhere deep inside of him and you pant into his mouth as his sounds fire up your brain. Heat shoots through your body like rocket fuel ignited, the cool metal behind you a sharp contrast to the solid warmth of Dave’s body in front when he pulls you closer with his hand on your waist, tugging you into him.

It’s messy, tongues and teeth fighting for control, your hands in his hair, his thick fingers grabbing your neck, his thigh between your legs. There’s no hiding the arousal coursing through you both as you moan at the way he rubs over your core, his low groans mixed in when he rolls his hard length into your hip.

He tangles his fingers into your hair, pulling back your head and trailing wet kisses across your throat, sucking a mark into where shoulder meets neck, moving up again, his teeth gently tugging on your earlobe before you gasp when he nips at the soft skin just underneath.

“I’ve been fucking dreaming about how you’d sound when I did this,” he growls when you moan loudly into the silent kitchen, “sound so pretty, so fucking sweet.” His hand on your waist tightens, he’s pulling you down onto his leg, rocking into you as you clamor for a grip, tugging at his hair, loud, satisfied groan coming from Dave.

“I wanna hear what you sound like when you come,” he mutters, moving his mouth up to yours again, biting your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, tongue coming out to caress it, taste it, before he lets go.

Pulling back a little, he looks down at you. You meet his dark eyes, lust clouding them as you gasp at the way his thick thigh creates just enough friction to make you convulse under his firm grip.

“So fucking sweet,” he mumbles, a tone to his voice like he’s been craving this, “always looking at me from the bakery, always smelling so good, so tempting. Been wanting to do this since the first day, just get you in here and make you come all over my leg, hear you say my name.”

You try to unscramble your brain, it’s hazy with arousal, the coil that he’s wound so tightly about to snap. But all you can feel is the tell tale tingling that’s started in your core and you close your eyes, the feeling radiating out from where his thigh rubs against you.

“No, keep them open for me, baby,” Dave growls, “keep your eyes on me,” his voice forcing you to look up at him as it hits.

“Dave…” you gasp, “Pl-please, Dave…”

It shoots through your system like electricity, your legs closing around his, your skin burning as he kisses you, swallowing down your cries of his name as he keeps moving his leg, working you through the high until your muscles finally relax.

He holds you up, his arm around your waist now, as his kisses soften. Soft movements across your lips, his tongue gently teasing yours until he pulls back a little, pressing his lips against yours, foreheads touching as you take a deep breath and you can feel him smile against you.

He moves his leg back, bending down and grabbing hold of your thighs, picking you up like you weigh nothing. With your arms around his neck, you hold on until he sets you down on the workbench, his hard erection is pressed tight between you but he seems to ignore it.

“You ok?” he asks quietly, bending down and pressing a small kiss to the side of your neck, “seemed like you needed that.” His chuckle is low and amused as you sigh deeply.

“That’s how you indulge?” you ask, caressing the back of his head, raking your fingers through his thick hair.

“Better for your body than that carrot cake,” he smirks, pulling back a bit so that he can look at you while he cups your jaw and strokes his thumb over cheek.

“I told you, this friendship won’t last if you don’t eat the frosting,” you give him a small smile, your body still humming.

Dave gives you a smug look, “I don’t want your friendship, I want your frosting,” he says with a grin, tugging gently at your chin so that he can press his lips to yours and slip his tongue inside before your addled brain can come up with a comeback.

The kiss is languid and slow, Dave takes his time, holding you back as you try to pull him closer, your hands still in his hair. After several long minutes he reaches up and untangles your fingers and pulls them down to your sides.

“I’m leaving now,” he says against your mouth, his lips brushing over yours, “And I want you to be good. I have to go take care of something on that case. Close the shop when you’re done, go home, I’ll come by later.” There’s a promise in his low tone, in the way he nips at your bottom lip one last time and his fingers dig into your hips as he moves around your neck.

“Listen,” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Part Twelve

Series Master List

Ok, so that got spicier then intended right? I don't know what to say, Dave just stepped in and took over.... blame him or thank him!

For the cake, this recipe uses pecans but I prefer walnuts but you can also leave them out if you want too. But it really is a very good cake...

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x reader #hot damn!

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patito-oward · 1 year ago

Text

No I in Team

masterlist

WC: 11.7k

Summary: You’ve just started a new job as a social media manager at Arrow McLaren, and get off onto the wrong foot with your insanely attractive new coworker.

Tags: angst, fluff, smut, 18+

February

This is what you’ve been working for since you were 13. Your first trip to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway was love at first sight. Since then, you’ve revolved your life around racing and getting to every race possible.

You studied marketing and public relations in high school and have now gotten your dream job working as the social media manager at Arrow McLaren.

You’re starting your first day by joining a full team meeting at the team’s headquarters. Except walking around the large building, you can’t seem to find the intended conference room. You’re looking down at your phone, trying to decipher the directions in your email, when you collide with a solid body.

Before you even look up, an apology is spilling out of your mouth. "Oh my god, I am so sorry-" You cut yourself off when you realize who you’ve just bumped into.

"Just watch where you’re going."

"I’m so, so sorry, it’s just my first day and I have no idea where I’m going, the email I got said conference room on the second floor, but this place is huge and I’m all turned around." You only stop to breathe, realizing you’ve run into not only an indycar legend but a now-coworker, Pato O’ward, and have completely embarrassed yourself.

"I’m headed there; follow me." He was very straight to the point, but you nodded and thanked him.

When you walked into the conference room, you found a few faces of people you recognized from interviews and more you recognized from watching the sport. The meeting began, and plans for the new season were being discussed. You were introduced to the group, but mainly to Pato, Alex, and Felix as the new head of the team’s social media.

Everyone was very welcoming, making jokes with you and telling you not to believe Rossi when he acts annoyed whenever you make him do anything. Overall, you had a really great morning.

After the full team meeting, you were set to have a meeting with just the drivers, owners, and a PR team. You had a 30-minute break between the meetings where you overheard a conversation between Pato and Felix.

"Y/N seems cool." Felix's saying your name caught your attention. "It’ll be nice to have someone young running the social media make sure it stays relevant."

"I guess, yeah." Pato seemed unsure and dismissive.

"You’re not sure?"

"She already seems like a walking disaster. This morning she was staring at her phone and ran straight into me, and then she told me she couldn’t find the conference room, and it was right there. And she talks so much." He puts emphasis on the so much, and you take a little offense; you were just trying to be nice. Felix doubles over laughing. "What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, mate," He can barely get his words out because he’s laughing so hard. "you just described yourself, that’s all."

"Oh, come on! I am not that bad!"

You’re glad Felix is defending you and seems to like you, but still, you wish Pato felt the same. It’ll make this job really awkward if he’s never cooperative with what you need to do.

Your second meeting of the day goes okay. The team wants you to share a little of what you have planned for the socials and discuss how these things are usually done. Everyone on the team seems really receptive to your ideas, and you’ve seemed to charm the room. You’re joking with the team owners about making the drivers do trends, and Felix and Alex are laughing along with you. Pato doesn’t talk much unless spoken to, and you just wish this day had started out better.

After your meeting, you were free to leave for the day. As you’re walking towards the elevator, Felix calls out to you. When you turn to face him, he begins to speak. "I’m sorry about Pato; I don’t know what’s up with him, but he’s definitely acting off today. Just give him time and he’ll warm up to you; you’re doing a great job already." You smile at him and thank him genuinely.

You really hope he’s right and Pato’s just having an off day. You start working with the team immediately, so whatever has him upset, he’s hopefully over by the morning.

March

Unfortunately, that is not the case; a whole month has gone by, and Pato still hasn’t warmed up to you. He’s in no way rude; he’ll do whatever you ask him to, and he’s always polite, but he’s never been personable with you.

You watch him during interviews and photo shoots, and he makes everyone in the room laugh. He’s kind to everyone, introduces himself to everyone in the room, and immediately becomes the center of it. You can see that he’s an entertainer at heart, and you wish he’d be like that with you. Even in more personal and private settings, he’s still very outgoing.

He’s so loud talking to Fro and Alex that you can often hear him through walls. He has a great relationship with his pit crew; he is so personable with them whenever he’s around them and will ask them about their wives and kids. If you’re ever in a room alone, it’s always very silent, and he answers you in the shortest way possible. Mostly, he’ll make up an excuse to leave the room or call someone in.

All of this keeps making you wonder where you’re going wrong. Rossi and Felix both seem to really like you; you’ve started getting along really well with both of their partners, and occasionally they will invite you to drinks after a day at work. They even tried to talk you into watching the Firestone GP with them in Rossi’s motorhome despite your having to work.

You’ve become friends with most of the team, and you’ve become really great friends with an engineer on the team, she’s been teaching you a lot about the makeup of the car during your downtimes. This job was so perfect, you just wish you knew why a certain driver seemed to have it out for you.

The Firestone GP that kicks off the season was a small letdown for the team. Rosenqvist had the best finishing position in 8th place, Rossi in 10th, and Pato in 13th. The team has been working so hard and really thought that they’d start the season off much better than this.

April

The team has been working a month straight at improving speed for Texas, and they’ve found some. During Friday practice, Rossi and Rosenqvist showed a lot of speed and were 3rd and 5th, but O’ward was still 9th, leaving the team to wonder where they were going wrong with him.

While walking by his garage, you notice a few engineers, including your new friend, and Pato watching his in-car footage from practice. As you watch, you notice what’s going on. You watch for another lap to make sure. "You’re going into the turns too fast, breaking heavy late, and by the time you’ve regained control of the car, you’ve ended up losing time." It feels like every eye in the speedway turns to you in that moment, like you could hear a pin drop in the garage.

Before anyone says anything, they simply rewind the tape and watch a lap. You watch everyone watch the screen as he goes into a turn, starts losing the car, then breaks heavy while getting it back under control. It happens three more times, and a mechanic speaks. "Holy shit, she’s right."

Pato takes the car back out, and in the few laps he’s able to do, his speed has skyrocketed. The speed he has now would have him at P1.

When he gets back into his pit, he’s celebrating with the team all around, and then he approaches you. "Thank you so much! You’ve saved my ass for this race."

"It’s no problem, really.”

Pato qualified for P3 the next day and finished the race 2nd. It's been a way better weekend for the team, and everyone is buzzing with energy.

After the race, Alex and Fro ask you to join them for celebratory drinks at a bar near the speedway. You join them and their partners, as well as Pato, and you all have a great time. You even got some content for Instagram and TikTok.

Everyone’s feeling pretty good and has a decent amount of liquor in their systems when Pato approaches you. "I owe you an apology."

You really were confused by this. "What?"

"Over the way I’ve been acting, I don’t even know why; I think I was just having a bad day and then got too stubborn to admit that I was wrong."

"Oh, it’s okay, water under the bridge." You try to wave it off, as this conversation feels very awkward.

No, I’ve been a total jerk for no real reason, and you haven’t deserved it, so I really am sorry. Can I please just have another chance at introducing myself?"

"You never introduced yourself in the first place."

He looks sheepish. "Another thing I’m sorry for." Holding out his right hand, he says, "Hi, I’m Pato. I’m glad you’re joining the team. I’m sure you’ll make a great addition."

"Hi, Pato, I’m YN; it’s so nice to finally meet you." When you shake his hand, you can see him soften a bit and his demeanor change, and you really hope that everything from the last two months really is water under the bridge in the morning.

You had a week and a half break after that, where you were only required to make a few posts and had one meeting. When you returned to work at Long Beach, Pato brought you coffee. You were shocked, but glad that fences really were mended.

April also held the first practice for the 500, which showed great promise for the team.

May

You and Pato have turned into fast friends. It turns out the two of you really are a lot alike. As you’ve entered the most important month for the sport, you cannot be more glad that things have been smoothed over.

Now that you’re close with all three of the boys, you’re often drugged into content whenever you’re filming it. The boys will often start arguing and look to you to settle it, or when you make them do a challenge, you have to clarify the winner.

Pato will even ask you to follow certain trends he’s seen floating around, and whenever you reveal that in a caption, his fans go crazy.

You don’t just begin to get closer professionally, though; when Pato finds out you’re a fan of the Marvel movies, he gets very excited to have someone on the team to watch them with. During the first week of May, he invited you to come watch Iron Man with him after a day of work, and you accepted.

When you first walked into his motorhome, it was definitely a little awkward; you didn’t really know where to sit or what to do with yourself. He quickly eased the tension, though. "Sit on the seat with the blue blanket; I dug it out in case you’d want it. I always keep it cold in here because I like to snuggle under a blankie."

You laughed at him. "Blankie? Are you five?"

"No! I’m just a sensitive guy who likes to be warm."

"Thank you for getting a blankie out for me too."

"Do you want anything to drink? I have water, electrolit, topo chico.."

"You realize we’re in private; you don’t have to endorse your sponsors to me."

He gives you a dirty look from the fridge and says, "You are so funny. I’ll have you know that I just don’t keep the fridge very stocked, and my sponsors provided all this."

"I’ll take a topo chico, please." You give him a sickly sweet smile from your place curled up on the loveseat, and he brings one for you and one for himself. You place both in the cup holders between you. "Thank you, sir."

"Don’t call me that, it's weird. I’m going to order food, did you eat or should I order you something too?"

"You don’t have to order me something; I’ll order myself food."

"Don’t be silly; I invited you; I’ll pay for takeout." He opens Grub Hub and starts scrolling through options. "You know what the worst part about frequent travel is?" You hum out a response. "I never know what food is good. I have no clue where to order from."

Oh, I know. My family and I used to always get food from this Chinese place on race weekend. Here it is." You pulled up the place on your phone, and you had to call to place the delivery order.

Once the order was placed, you both settled into your spots on the sofa and started the movie. Before long, the food has arrived, and you’re both digging in as the movie plays. "This is the best Chinese I’ve ever had. You definitely saved the day!"

"I don’t know about the whole day; maybe just dinner. Besides, I definitely didn’t save your wallet." You looked at all the takeout boxes on the counter. "I think we ordered enough for a small army."

"Yeah, but it’s so good." He punctuates his sentence with a groan and an eye roll that make your stomach flutter for just a moment; you’re not blind after all.

You’ve always found Pato attractive, even before you started working here, but now that you have the job, you know it's important to keep those feelings at bay. Not only that, but he made it easy to do so when he was constantly icing you out. Reminding yourself of those facts, you redirect your attention to the TV in front of you.

That was the first of many movie nights with Pato. You were at the paddock basically every day, and he claimed he got lonely being alone in his trailer every night, so he kept inviting you back.

For a tik tok, you had Pato and Felix make a list of red flags about each other, in which they both mentioned each other's taste in movies. Of course, the two started to argue about it, and Pato turned to you. "YN thinks my taste in movies is great; we always do movie nights together."

"Mate, I can’t believe you’ve been exposing her to that." He pauses, then says, "Wait, how often do you do movie nights? And why am I never invited?"

"Because your taste in movies sucks."

They move onto the next topic, and you cut that part out of the video, really not wanting too many people to see it, but it does get you wondering why he never invites Felix over instead of or even with you.

Two nights later, at your next movie night, you bring it up. "Patito?"

He groans. "What?"

"Why don’t you ever invite Felix over for movie night?" He looks at you quizzically. "I mean, he’s like your best friend, right? So why don’t you ever have him over instead of me?"

"Felix likes to be doing something. He wants to play a game or go out, which is great and all, but after work sometimes I just like to relax and watch a movie but don’t necessarily want to be alone."

"So you picked me because I’m boring."

He laughs. "Not boring, just easy." You squeal at him and smack him in the chest, but he grabs your arm and pulls you onto him from across the sofa. "Come on, you know I’m just playing."

You’re facing him, and your upper body is in his lap as you look up at him. All of a sudden, you feel way too close to him, and like you’re crossing into dangerous territory. You sit up and pull back into your seat. "Yeah, I know. Let’s start the movie."

"You’re right, I don’t want to be up too late with quals tomorrow."

"It’s May; you always have something tomorrow."

Qualifying for the Indy GP goes really well, and Pato gets pole. The team getting pole was a huge accomplishment, so a bunch of people went out for drinks at a bar 10 minutes from the speedway. You’re out for a few hours, and around 11, everyone decides to disperse, and you begin to call for an Uber to your place, which is 30 minutes away. While standing outside and both of you ordering ubers, you complain to Pato about how late it’ll be when you finally get home.

"Just come stay at mine; you have to be back in Speedway at 6 anyway."

"Are you sure it’s not a problem? I can just Uber back."

"Stop being silly. You’re my friend, you’re never a problem."

You both climb into an Uber and ride the 10 minutes back to the speedway. You have the Uber drop you off at the entrance and walk to the driver lot from there. It’s a gorgeous night, and no one’s out right now.

Pato turns to you, "Let’s go walk the track." You laugh at him, not thinking he was serious. "No, come on, it’ll be fun."

"You’re crazy; we’ll get in trouble."

"Oh, come on, live a little, baby."

The name rolls off his lips, and you’re convinced you may do anything he asks. You’re being pulled by him towards the gasoline alley and pit lane, where you could climb onto the track.

He begins shouting when you get on the track. Calling out just to hear his echo. You pull him to you and put your hand over his mouth. Hush, you’re going to get us caught." You’re laughing as you say it because he’s fighting against your hand.

When you take your hand off his mouth, he looks around the track. "In 3 weeks, every one of these seats will be filled."

"I know, it’s crazy to think about."

"It’s like 300,000 eyes on you, watching every move you make; it’s nerve-wracking but also so thrilling."

He’s still looking out at the bleachers; you’re standing on the bricks in front of the padoga. "We could kiss the bricks?"

He looks down at his feet, dragging his shoe across the bricks. "Nah, I want to save it until I win."

Well, I don’t think you’ll have to wait long."

It’s silent for a moment, and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing. "We should probably head back. I have a GP to win before I can win the 500."

You burst out laughing at him. "You’re so cocky."

"Confident." He corrects you with a raised eyebrow. He grabs your wrist, then interlocks your hands. "Let’s go."

On the walk back, you’re leaning into his side with your head on his shoulder and never letting go of his hand. When you arrive back at the motorhome, you’re exhausted. You head into the bathroom to wash your face, and Pato calls out to you, "There’s a spare toothbrush under the sink; I’ll get out some clothes for you."

When you exit the bathroom, there’s a pair of Pato’s merch pajamas sitting on his bed for you. "We can either share the bed or I can pull out the couch, but Elba says the couch is uncomfortable, so it’s up to you."

The thought of being that close to him all night makes your heart skip a beat. "Are you sure you’re okay sharing the bed?"

"We’re adults." He shrugs like it’s obvious. "As long as you’re not a blanket hog, we’ll be just fine."

After you change into pajamas, you get into the side of the bed that doesn’t have his things on the nightstand. As you climb under the layers of blankets, warmth and his smell engulf you. It’s different from how he smells day to day; it’s like what he usually smells like minus the sweat and gasoline. It makes you feel incredibly close to and surrounded by him. Sleep quickly begins to overtake you; you’re vaguely aware of him climbing into bed next to you, but you're fast asleep within 5 minutes.

The next morning, you woke up with a minor headache, and as you woke, you noticed that you were clinging to the man next to you. You’re half lying on top of him and have your arm across his chest and your face on his pec. Despite how comfortable you were, you knew it would be bad if he woke up and found you hanging all over him. You reluctantly and carefully pulled away from him and climbed out of bed. When you climbed out of bed, he rolled over and started searching for something in the bed. Rocky jumped up into the spot you’d just vacated and cuddled up with Pato, which seemed to settle him back into sleep. You quietly got ready for your day at work, stealing an Electrolit to hopefully ward off your headache.

As you searched the fridge for something edible, Pato emerged from the bedroom. His shorts hung low on his hips, and he’s shirtless; even with his bedhead, he looks absolutely delicious. "Goodmorning, sunshine."

He groans and stretches. "Morning, did you sleep good?"

"Yeah, I was exhausted, and that bed is stupidly comfortable.

"We still have an hour until we have to be at work; do you want to get breakfast?"

"I love the way you think."

"Give me five to get ready, and we’ll head out."

You end up taking his McLaren to a small diner. There’s a mural of IMS on one of the walls of the diner and a checkered flag in the window. "I still can’t believe this whole town celebrates like this for a whole month." Pato is looking out the window at the stores, all with flags adorning them.

"This is how I grew up. My dad and I looked forward all year for this month. I could never sleep the night before the 500; I was always too hyped up, like a kid on Christmas. I love this sport."

You quickly finish eating, then head to the track. Today’s the day of the Indianapolis Grand Prix, where Pato will be starting on pole, and you both have work to do before the race starts.

You don’t see him much after you get back to the track; you’re both being pulled in twenty different directions, but you’re able to get a photo of him climbing into the car for the Instagram story and wish him luck then.

The race starts well; he’s able to get through the first lap scrape-free, which cannot be said for all of the field. Around lap 60, he gets hit from behind and spins out; by the time the AMR team gets him going again, he’s in 21st place. The team is ecstatic with the finish of the race, with Rossi winning it, but for Pato, the race went awful. He had really high hopes for the race but ended up in P17.

The team has obligatory celebrations, and you have to capture some content of Rossi for the social media accounts. After all the celebrations are done, you go on a search to find Pato. You find him in his pit box reviewing race footage.

You lightly place your hand on his shoulder, "Hey,"

"Oh, hi."

"Tough race."

He lets out a dry laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

"Are you ok?"

"Just frustrated."

"We’ve been invited to drink to celebrate Rossi’s win; wanna go?"

"No, I’ll just bring the mood down. You should go, though."

"There are plenty of chances to go drinking with them; do you want to just do a movie night? We can watch a sad movie, so you can’t bring the mood down."

He laughs, which was your intended reaction. "Yeah, you always cheer me up."

You go up on your tippy toes and wrap him in a hug, "You ran a great race today." As you pull away, Kevin Lee is hanging nearby to get a word with Pato. "I’ll see you tonight."

You have lots of work to do, and it’s a job in itself just to be able to grab Alex and take up his time. It’s hours later when you’re finally done for the day and able to escape to Pato’s trailer. He’s already in there and changed into sweats; when he opens the door for you, he looks mopey.

You’ve run to Walmart and bought fresh clothes—a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt—that you’ve now changed into.

You’ve been in his trailer so many times now that it’s anything but awkward. You look around at the place; the TV is still off, but there’s an almost empty glass and a bottle of tequila on the counter. Rocky and Norbi are calm in a way they wouldn’t be if he hadn’t taken them out, so at least you know that’s been done. You don’t really know how to comfort him; today was a big loss, and going into the 500, you know it hurts.

"You came to watch a movie, right?”

"I came because you’re my friend, and I know you’re upset. So whatever you want to do,"

He slumps down on the couch in front of you. "I’m so disappointed. I failed myself and the team. I had this race in the bag to win, but I fucked it all up."

You sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You did everything you could to make this a great race. You couldn’t help that you got hit. All you can do now is focus forward on the 500."

He leans back, "I know. You’re right." He pulls you back, and you’re now both reclining on the sofa with heads turned towards each other, only a few inches apart. "You’re my best friend, you know."

You smile at him. "Yeah, you’re mine too."

The two of you are pressed together from your shoulders to your knees. You grab the blanket that’s on the couch next to you and cover both of you with it. You turn on the TV to a show you’ve seen a million times and let the soft noise of it drift the two of you to sleep.

You wake up at 2:00 AM and can barely move from the position you’ve been sleeping in. You gently wake Pato and convince him to move to the bed. When you both climb under the covers, he grabs you and pulls you into him, placing a kiss on the side of your head. He’s clearly barely awake, but you can’t fall asleep.

Your body is buzzing with the feeling of his against yours and his breath on your neck. You feel like a horrible person because he got so vulnerable with you and is clearly just seeking comfort in you after a bad day, and you’re obsessing over it like a schoolgirl. Still, you can’t help the feeling that’s coursing through your body, like you’d be content to stay this way forever.

When you wake up, it’s like nothing has changed between the two of you. Pato feels better and is back to his normal and cheerful self, and your relationship stays what it always was, friends. It’s not that you ever expected anything to change, but for that night, you allowed yourself to hope it would.

A week of lots of work, three movie nights, and one sleepover goes by, and then it’s Saturday and time for qualifying. The team does incredible, all four cars make it into the fast 12. Sunday holds so much anticipation for the team. You’re slammed with making posts to celebrate yesterday’s results along with today’s. Not to mention, every time one of the drivers went out, you stopped everything to watch their run.

After the first run, Pato and Fro advance to the fast 6, and you watch to see who gets bumped. Knowing the drivers has brought a whole new side to this sport for you, you can’t even imagine what it’s like for the drivers who have failed to make it. The Firestone Fast 6 has Marcus Ericsson on pole, with Pato starting 3rd and Felix 5th. You know this is an incredible place to be for the race; to have a spot in the front row is a huge deal, but Ericsson on pole has everyone worried he’ll pull away with a second win.

You have a week that consists of two practices and studying every move Ericsson makes to find his weak spots and figure out how Pato can play off them. You’re posting on social media five times a day to lead up to the race. The Legends Day parade made for incredible content, and you’re left in awe at the people covering the streets just for a chance to be waved at by a driver.

Pato convinced you to spend the night with him after the parade; you couldn’t say no when he pulled out the puppy dog eyes and pouted at you to stay, especially when you never wanted to say no in the first place. It really was easier to stay in Speedway for the night, considering the traffic in the morning will be horrendous, and you sleep the best you ever have when you’re lying next to him.

The 500 lived up to everything it should. It was 200 laps of pure excitement. At no point in the race were you sure of who was going to win, and it left you unable to breathe for most of it. You had spent the day taking photos and videos so you could do an "Admin’s photo dump," and if you took some photos of Pato making ridiculous faces at you that you planned to just keep to yourself, no one had to know.

At lap 190, Ericsson is in the lead, with Colton Herta second and Pato third. You know that Pato will have to pull off a huge move to take the lead; he’s racing against two of the greatest in the field. As they go around turn 3, Herta goes on the outside of Ericsson, trying to make a pass for the lead, but he finds the marbles and wrecks both of them. Pato got by, but others behind him were not so lucky. The four car wreck gets red flagged immediately. The good news is, Pato’s restarting in 1st; the bad news is there are nine laps left, and Palou is right behind him. As the race starts up again, you can barely breathe. After a warmup lap, the race goes green, Palou takes a hard dive to the inside and passes Pato. He has the lead for three laps, and you’re already upset for Pato; you know how badly he wants this. As you’re thinking that, Pato passes him from the outside, and begins to run away with the lead. He leads the last five laps of the race and crosses the start-finish line as the winner of the 110th Indianapolis 500.

You’re so thrilled for him that you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can hear him on the team radio celebrating and thanking God in Spanish. He does his victory lap, and then brings the car back into pit lane. You’re at his car before it’s even stopped, taking his steering wheel from him, and when he gets out of the car, he wraps you in a hug. He’s holding you around the waist and lifting you up, spinning you. "You just won the fucking Indy 500. I’m so proud of you."

"I couldn’t have done it without you."

He’s all too quickly being pulled away from you and being congratulated by the rest of the team. You stand in awe as you watch one of the most important people in the world to you live out their dreams. You watch every part of the celebration with so much pride. You can’t think of anyone more deserving of the ring, the wreath, or dumping a bottle of milk on himself.

When he kisses the bricks, you’re right there next to him, kissing them too. "I guess it’s good we waited for the real deal to do this."

"This was definitely better than doing it just because we could." He has the biggest smile on his face, from ear to ear and reaching his eyes, and all you can think is how you’d give anything to always have him this happy.

It's been hours of celebrating him, and you’re soaking up every moment. When all of your business at the Speedway is over, you both head back to his motorhome to get ready to go out and celebrate. When you get there, he pulls down the fanciest-looking bottle of tequila you’ve ever seen.

"Take a shot with me?"

You scrunch your nose. "I hate doing shots."

"You can’t say no to me, I’m an Indy 500 winner.”

You sigh and give in. "That card works for today and today only." He has poured out two shot glasses, and handed one to you. "Here’s to you, being the best friend a girl could ask for, and the best damn driver this track has even seen." You clink your glass with his and take the shot, choking it down. "Holy shit, that needs a chase-"

You’re cut off by lips on yours. At first, you’re shocked and don’t react. Once you do, you have one hand on his cheek and the other around his neck, and you lean into the kiss like it’s oxygen. It’s easily the best kiss you’ve ever had, you’re thinking everything and nothing at once, and the pieces of the world feel as if they’ve fallen together. His hands around your waist pulling you to him, the way his mouth presses into yours, the taste of tequila on his lips, and the faint smell of sweat, it’s all too much and yet not enough.

You’re unsure how much time has passed when he pulls away, but you’re panting to catch your breath. "Yeah, that’ll work."

"I promise we’ll talk about this later, I just had to do that, and I really need to shower.”

You’re left a little stunned as he disappears into the bathroom. It has you wondering what this means for the two of you, what if it was just a caught-in-the moment thing and he didn’t really mean it?

He is ready to go within 20 minutes, you’ve changed into a pair of ripped jeans and a corset top, and he’s wearing white dress pants, with a white t-shirt and a gold chain around his neck. You’ve put on a light layer of makeup, and pulled your hair into a bun in an attempt to hide the fact that you’ve been in the sun all day. When he sees you, he says, "You look beautiful."

"Not too bad yourself."

Once you arrive at a bar in Indianapolis, Pato walks around and opens your door for you. He always opens the door for you because you have no clue how to open the doors to his McLaren on your own. When you step out, he places his hand on your lower back. "Is this ok?" You nod at him, and walk into the bar together.

The bar is already filled with people, Pato’s family, friends, other drivers, their partners, and parts of the team out to celebrate Pato’s win. Not everyone in the paddock is best friends, but they all get along, and Pato is so personable that he’s friends with almost everyone, so most drivers are happy for his win. Even Colton and Alex, who are surely having a rough night, came out to congratulate him.

You’re able to watch Pato all night, and he’s a different person than when it’s just the two of you. He’s an entertainer at heart, always putting on a show in front of a crowd, but when it’s just the two of you, it’s like he’s able to relax and just be his authentic self. You've been seated with Kelly and Emille for most of the night, not drinking because you told Pato you’d drive so he could party properly. Even while celebrating with everyone, he still checks in with you periodically throughout the night.

Kelly and Emille must notice the hand he places on your thigh or his lips brushing against your ear because they ask you if the two of you have "finally realized you’re soulmates". You shrug them off, figuring they’d just been drinking too much, but then they confess that one of the reasons they invited you to drink so much is because Felix and Rossi were convinced that you two would be perfect for each other. They quickly move onto a new topic, but you begin to wonder what dating Pato would be like. You figure it’d be a lot like your relationship now, but you’d get to have all of him, and not have to hide your feelings for him. The thought of getting to know him more intimately sends a chill down your spine.

As things start to wind down, Pato comes to where you’re sitting, and wraps his arm across your shoulders. The group has moved around your table, and he’s starting to say his goodbyes. Once you’re out to the car, he hands you his keys. "Please don’t wreck my baby."

"Oh come on, you’ve gotta have more faith in me than that."

"You’re the only person besides my papa I’ve ever let drive this car. That’s enough faith."

You turn on the radio, and the car ride back to Speedway is filled with Pato’s singing. When you arrive back in his motorhome, he’s begging you to spend the night again. You, of course, stay with him.

Climbing in bed, he reaches his hand out to the space in between the two of you. "Too much space. Come closer." You’re on your sides facing each other, and as you scoot in, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you towards him. "Much better."

You fall asleep like that, but when you wake up, he’s not in the bed. It has you panicking, wondering if it was a mistake to kiss him, and even more, imagining a relationship with him. You’re in one of his sweatshirts when you climb out of bed and head to the living area. You find it empty, of both Pato and the dogs. You’re pretty worried now, not knowing where he could’ve gone or why he disappeared so early.

Before your mind is able to wander too much further, the door to his motorhome opens, and the dogs come barging in. Pato has his hands full, but when he sets the stuff down on the counter and finally looks at you, he’s upset. "Oh no! You were supposed to still be in bed. Shoot!"

"Where did you go?" You’re very confused about his whereabouts and his aversion to you being awake.

"I went to get us breakfast, I wanted to surprise you when you woke up. I got all your favorites."

You can’t help the smile breaking out on your face. "You got me breakfast?"

"Of course I did. I know I said we’d talk about the kissing later, but I still feel bad for making you wait," a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me."

You’re wrapping him in a hug before you know it. "I thought you freaked on me and bailed."

He pulls back from you and lightly takes your face in both hands. "I’m not bailing or freaking. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, and I can’t stop thinking about you, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I can feel myself falling for you more each day."

You can see the sincerity in his eyes as they bore into yours. "Pato,"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me again."

A huge grin breaks out on his face as he pulls yours to him. The kiss starts softly, with one of his hands cradling the back of your head while the other stays rested on your face. As it goes on, you continue to push him, your tongue swiping across his lips, seeking entrance. His hand tangles in your hair, and the other moves down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He has full control of the kiss, and you, at this point. Your hands are in his hair and on his chest, letting him lead you through minutes of a make out session like you’re in high school.

He pulls away, but you continue to chase his lips. He almost gives in, but he grabs your face and stops you from continuing. "Wait," He’s panting, and you’re pretty sure it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. "I have something important I need to ask you."

You look at him expectantly and hope he can’t tell how fast your heart is beating. "Will you come to the victory banquet with me tonight? I want to celebrate with you."

You consider it, you know it’s a black tie event, and you know it’s broadcasted; you really don’t want anyone wondering or theorizing about who you are. "I don’t have anything to wear."

"I’ll buy you something."

"I do not need you to buy me clothes."

"Now you’re just being difficult. Come with me, por favor, and let me buy you a dress."

You caved to his begging, like always, and he took you to a high-end boutique to find a dress. As you looked through the store, he grabbed a few dresses to add to the ones you were trying on. He followed you to the dressing rooms, and you modeled each dress for him.

"Pato, I can’t believe you picked this out."

"What’s wrong with it?" His voice is whiny, and you can tell through the door that he’s offended.

You look at yourself one more time in the mirror before stepping out to show him. It’s a rouched pink satin dress that’s all too short, and shows an insane amount of cleavage. Pato leaned back on the seat, looking as smug as ever. "You’ve never looked better."

You give him a death stare, "This is so not appropriate, and so not funny." You’re getting stressed about all of this, it’s a lot to go to this event with him and be seen by all of your coworkers, but even more so by any fans.

He must notice how overwhelmed you’re getting because he reaches out and grabs your hand. "Woah, baby, what’s wrong?" You explain to him everything that’s on your mind. "Hey, it’ll be alright, I promise you. What do you need to feel better about this? I’ll give you anything."

"I just want to find something to wear."

"Ok, we’ll find something, I’ll take you to every store in the state if I have to. You’ve still got a few more in there, yeah?" You nod and disappear behind the curtain to try the last couple on.

Finally, you put on a dress that felt perfect. It’s a floor-length black gown with a slit on the left leg and a deep v-neck. "I really like this one, but tell me what you think, and be honest."

You walk out and stand in front of Pato, giving him a slow twirl. "Wow."

"Do you like it?"

"Wow." You slap his arm lightly. "Estás deliciosa." (You are delicious)

You wrap your arms around his shoulder and sit perched on his legs. "Y estás muy rico." (And you are very hot)

"I think this is the one, but I won’t be able to keep my hands off you all night."

You change back into your clothes, and head to buy that dress. Your jaw drops when you realize the dress is $450, but before you’re able to protest, Pato has already paid for it. "You did not have to do that, I could’ve found a different dress."

"I liked that one."

"I don’t even know how I ended up trying it on, I didn’t grab anything that expensive."

"I grabbed it, you deserve nice things." He kisses your cheek. "Now stop and let me spoil you."

You feel a heat rise on your cheeks, You’re not used to being treated like you deserve everything, but something tells you Pato’s not going to stop doing so.

You spend hours getting ready, but finally you’re at the victory banquet together. He pays for a ride there, so you could both drink and not worry about it. You walk the red carpet together, and he has his hand around your waist or on the small of your back the whole time.

Everything feels so natural with Pato, from the way he gets you a drink without having to ask what you’d like to his hand resting just above your knee. As a host drones on, you lean into him and whisper, "Pato?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this a date?"

He turns to you a little quizzically, and almost looks offended. "What? No."

You try to hide your disappointment. "Oh, ok, I just thought..."

"When I take you on a date, you will have no doubt it’s a date. There’ll be flowers and dinner, and I will pick you up, and if you’re lucky, I’ll kiss you at the end of the night."

June

And a few days later, he keeps his promise. He picks you up from your hotel with the largest bouquet you’ve ever seen. He then brings you to a restaurant in downtown Detroit, it’s easily the nicest place you’ve ever been. He pays for the meal, which was easily $500, and then drives you home. Things with Pato were easy, the date was the best you’d ever been on, and you both spent dinner laughing, and constantly brushing against each other in some way. When you got to your hotel door, he kissed you as promised. Everything with him is still so new, which makes you want him desperately. His hand wrapped in your hair, which pulls slightly as his tongue slips into your mouth, sends a chill down your spine. You lose track of time, and your thoughts are flooded with nothing but him. You pull away from him, but he immediately moves his lips to your neck.

You can feel your chest heaving, "We should stop." even though you really don’t want to.

"This is more fun." You can feel the vibrations of his words against your neck.

"If we don’t stop now, I don’t think I will." Despite how much you want that, you’re still hesitant about jumping into things too quickly with him.

He detaches himself from your neck, and when he pulls back, you can see that his pupils are blown, and his hair is mussed from your hands running through it. "Have I told you how insanely gorgeous you look tonight?"

"Only about 30 times." You stand there smiling at each other for a moment, stuck in your own bubble. "It’s getting late."

"I know. I should go."

"Yeah, you probably should." Except you can’t help yourself from kissing him one last time. This time it’s soft and sweet.

"Now I’ve really got to go before we get started again." He walks towards the elevator, but turns just before heading into it. "You’re driving me crazy, invading all of my thoughts, I can barely function!" You know he’s joking, but you also feel the same way.

"Goodnight, Patito!" You call after him, and he returns with "Sweet dreams."

You spent the next few weeks settling into each other. You haven’t told anyone about being together, and have been enjoying your time in secret. You’ve just decided that there’s no rush to tell anyone, and it’s a little fun sneaking around.

It’s three days before Road America when you and Pato are softly chatting while waiting for Fro and Alex to arrive so you can film some content. You mindlessly have your hands locked together, and he’s rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You don’t notice the guys arrive, and they sneak up on you.

"Hey, guys, what’s up?" You jump when you hear Felix’s voice and pull your hand back.

Pato tries to play it off by greeting him back, but Felix just bursts into laughter. You and Pato both laugh along with him but are confused. "What’s so funny?"

"Are you seriously trying to hide that you’re together right now?" Felix can hardly get the words out.

You and Pato both share a look before trying to play it off. "What? We’re not together, we’re just friends."

Now Alex, who tends to just watch, joins in, "We’ve known since the 500."

You roll your eyes at him. "Ok, we haven’t even known since the 500."

"Tell that to lover boy because he didn’t take his eyes off of you all night, and we saw the way he was touching you."

Pato’s cheeks are now bright red, "Ok, I wasn’t that bad."

"Like a love sick puppy." Pato hides his face in his hands.

At this point, you’re just laughing, leave it to Rossi to be brutally honest. You pull his hands away, "Aww, baby, don’t be shy; I think it’s cute."

July

Mid-Ohio once again falls on the Fourth of July weekend. Pato did great in the race, working from 10th place qualifying to a 2nd place finish. The two of you booked a hotel room together for the weekend because you end up in the same hotel most of the time anyway.

After the race, Pato took you out to celebrate. You found a place that was putting on a fireworks show and was lined with food trucks. You both got the greasiest food imaginable, and bought an elephant ear. You found a place in the grass and got comfortable on a large blanket. You laid against him as you waited for the fireworks to start and ate your food.

You’re talking about everything and nothing when Pato grabs your hand and then kisses you softly. "What was that for?"

"I think I’m falling in love with you."

At first, you’re a little shocked to hear it, but you can’t say you don’t feel the same. Everything with Pato has been so fast, but it’s also been so incredibly easy and natural. "I think I’m falling in love with you, too."

You feel like a teenager, making out in front of all these people, but it’s dark enough that you hope no one can see you. It’s the most loved you’ve ever felt, you can tell he’s pouring everything he feels into the kiss. You’re lying down on the ground, cuddled together, as you watch the fireworks go off above you.

When you get back to the hotel room, you’re not tired in the slightest. You’re pulling him into you and kissing him as he tries to unlock the door. When he finally gets the door open, he pulls you inside the room, pins you against the back side of it, and automatically asks for entry into your mouth with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long until he’s backing you up onto the bed and you’re falling back on it.

He continues chasing your lips, only breaking away to pull off his shirt. He grabs the hem of your shirt, but before lifting off, he stops to make sure you really want to do this. When you nod your head, he pulls it over your head. Your chest is heaving as he reaches behind you to undo your bra.

You can feel him pressing up against you, and you reach down to grab him as he attaches his mouth to your breasts. It has him pressing into your hand and letting out a moan that has you shivering.

Before you know it, you’re lying together in the middle of the bed, and you’re begging him to slide into you. When he finally does, you see stars. He’s babbling in Spanish, you can’t pick it all up, but you understand that he’s telling you how beautiful you are and that he loves you. You’ve never felt so fully connected to or in love with a person.

Your foreheads are pressed together, and your lips are brushing every time he moves. His right hand is holding yours, and his left is tweaking your nipple.

"Eres la persona más sexy que he conocido." (You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever met.)

His Spanish has you shivering under him as he continuously pumps into you. You feel yourself growing closer as he begins to speed up, and you move your hand down to your clit to move yourself along. He slaps your hand away and replaces it with his own. "Quiero explorar cada centímetro de tu cuerpo." (I want to explore every inch of your body)

You can tell he’s close by his faltering rhythm, but so are you. As he moves his lips to your ear and tells you to let go, you go flying over the edge. You’re seeing white, and he follows quickly after; it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

You’re both naked with a layer of sweat covering your bodies, and you’re curled into his side. You’re tracing random designs across his chest as you both try to catch your breath, and he is placing kisses on your forehead.

"I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy." You’re whispering into the dim room, hoping he knows how special he is to you.

"Me either. Estoy enloquecido por ti." (I am crazy for you)

Things with Pato keep getting better. He took you to Mexico with him during the break between Ohio and Toronto, and you met a lot of his family. You automatically got along with everyone, and loved how close knit everyone was. You only fell deeper for him around his family. He introduced you to everyone as his girlfriend, and told everyone how much he loved you. You’re having dinner at one of his Tio’s farms, and you watch him as he runs around with all of his younger cousins, and you decide that if he asked you tomorrow, you’d run off to Mexico and spend the rest of your life with him.

August

Nashville came, and the two of you spent the weekend partying like it was your 21st birthday. When you came to a bar with a mechanical bull in it, Pato was convinced he could ride it. You took a picture of him, cowboy hat on and arm in the air, and put it on your Instagram story with the caption "save a horse, ride a cowboy". This was the first time you’ve posted anything about him, but you figured it wouldn’t be a big deal because you have a small following made up mostly of friends and family.

The following morning, Pato posted a photo dump of the weekend, and included a picture of you kissing his helmet before he climbed into his car. You can’t tell that it’s you, from your hair or the angle Elba took the photo from, but that doesn’t stop people from noticing. Immediately, fans flood the comments with questions about your identity. Your papaya polo is the only thing that gives people any clue as to who you are. No one really ends up finding out it’s you, but a few people see your story and like it.

You’re back in Indianapolis the next week, and Pato is staying at your apartment. He insists that he meet your family, claiming it’s unfair that he hasn’t met them when you’ve met all of his. You took him to your childhood home for dinner. Your dad grilled steaks, and your mom made corn on the cob and baked potatoes. Your parents knew about you and Pato, and they’d known who he was since he started racing. You were nervous as you pulled into your driveway. Pato grew up with money, you know that most drivers do, and he grew up in a huge house in San Antonio. You don’t know exactly what he makes now, but you know that it’s a lot, most likely pushing $1 million a year. Your yearly salary is a weekend getaway for him. He’s never shown that he cared at all; he gladly stays with you in your apartment with creaky floors and poor water pressure, but you still worry about what he will think of the home.

Your worries dissipate as soon as you walk in the door, and he’s nothing but his perfect self. He shakes hands with your father and hugs your mother, you can tell that they love him already. You eat dinner together in your backyard, and he immediately starts talking racing with your dad. Your dog stares at him as he eats, begging for a bite, and you chuckle when he caves and tries to secretly feed him a bite.

You know that the season only has a month left in it, and the thought of living in two different states looms like a bit of a dark cloud, but moments like this make you know you’ll be okay.

September

The season is closing, and you’re busier than you’ve thought possible. The top 3 for the championship are Palou, Pato, and Felix, so you’ve been insanely busy promoting the last 2 weeks of the season, and planning posts for the result of the championship.

There’s a lot of tension on the team because of how close Pato and Felix are, and either of them could win the championship. There’s also the chance that neither of them would win it, which would stink after such a strong year for the team. You worry about Pato and his relationship with Felix, and you don’t want the fight for the championship to hurt that at all. You can also tell that the stress is getting to Pato, he’s at work constantly, and even when you’re home, he’s studying his previous races or working out ridiculous amounts. You try to be there for him, but it’s hard when there’s no way you can ensure he wins the next two races.

And Portland doesn’t go the way he wanted. He has a 3rd-place finish, which slots him down a spot in the race for the championship and makes it so he needs to have an absolutely perfect run for Monterey.

You’re exiting the bathroom in your hotel room when you notice he’s sitting on the bed, staring off into space. "Pato, are you ok, honey?"

He takes a minute before responding. "There are five days left of the season."

"I know that."

"I live in San Antonio; you live in Indianapolis."

"Oh." You’ve both been avoiding this subject for as long as possible, but you’re running out of time, and it needs to be addressed. You sit down gently on the bed next to him.

"I love you, you know that, but I don’t know if I can handle being away from you that often."

"I know, I’ve gotten so used to being with you that it’s hard to be apart." You know that some couples crave distance, and would not be able to handle working together as well as basically living together, but you always want to be within 30 feet of Pato.

"Maybe I’ll move up here, it’s where the team is based, so it makes sense. I just already don’t see my family enough, especially the ones in Mexico."

Pato does so much for you, and works so hard that you know what the answer is. "I’ll move to San Antonio." You’ll be with him, but you have to be in Indiana frequently anyway for work, so you’d still see your family a lot.

"That’s not fair to you, to pick up your whole life."

"It’s what I want to do. I don’t want to be anywhere that you aren’t, and I’ll see my family whenever we have to work."

He pulls you into a hug that’s a little bone crushing. "I love you, mas que vida." (more than life)

"Te amo también." (I love you too) Your eyes are a little watery, and having moments like this with Pato remind you how endlessly lucky you are.

Pato seems to be in overdrive, his car is lightning fast, and he comes out on top of both practices.

You’re sitting in the driver's room with Pato while he gets ready for qualifying, he’d arrived insanely early, so he had time to decompress before going out. You’re cuddled together on the couch, with his fire suit hanging off his hips, and you’re talking about something other than racing for what feels like the first time in months. Rossi enters and finds the two of you there, "You know this is for drivers only?" You know he’s just giving you a hard time.

"I had to be here, I’m doing very important business." You smile up at him as he begins to grab all of his racing gear.

"I can tell."

As Rossi gets ready, he joins in on your and Pato’s conversation, but not much because the two of you talk so much that it barely gives him a chance. Then Felix shows up, late as always. He grabs his helmet and then hands it to you.

"What am I going with this?"

Oh, you don’t need it? I thought you were a driver now."

"You are sooo funny." You grab a pillow off the couch and throw it at him.

You sit with Pato until you have to go to the pits to do work. During qualifying, he puts up an insane lap that puts him in P1 by over a second. Pato gets the pole for the race tomorrow.

You’re both buzzing when you walk into your hotel room, and he’s immediately all over you. You’re setting your stuff down by the door, and he’s crowding up behind you. His hands are on your hips, and he’s grinding into you as he attaches his lips to your neck. "You’re my good luck charm. I’m gonna take you to bed and show you how thankful I am."

Heat is riding up your neck, and you’re leaning back into his touch. He takes you to the bed and tosses you on top of it. He takes his shirt off, but then turns all his attention towards you. He was kissing a trail down your body as he undressed you. Worshipping every new piece of revealed skin. He had you in just underwear panting and begging for him to do something more. He’s teasing you over the lace of your panties, and you know it’s absolutely soaked.

He finally takes them off and slips one finger in. You’re so desperate that it has you crying out, and he quickly adds another. "Is this why they call you fast hands?" You can barely get the sentence out, but it has him laughing. His hands are good, but they’re nothing compared to his mouth. He’s still pumping into you with his fingers, but he brings his tongue to your clit. He circles it with his tongue a few times, but then sucks on it lightly, which has you crying out.

Your hands are in his hair, pulling so hard that you know it has to hurt, but it seems to only spur him on. He lays his tongue flat against you, and you buck against him as he repeatedly hits your spot. It has you tumbling toward the edge, but you pull him away before you’re able to.

He looks a little confused, but you quickly dissolve his fears. "Want to come with you in me." He immediately crawls up your body, and pulls down his sweats, which now have a wet spot on them, just enough to free his cock. He gives himself a few pumps before he's filling you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he starts pounding into you, his thumb pressing circles around your clit.

"Come on, pretty girl, come for me." His words send you over, and you’re coming with a loud moan. He follows you shortly after, biting into your shoulder to muffle the groan he lets out.

He collapses next to you as you catch your breath. Your chests are both heaving when he says, "Round two?"

It has you laughing out loud because, of course, he wants to go again. "I'm afraid I won’t be your good luck charm if you fall asleep behind the wheel because you were up fucking me all night."

"Doesn’t matter. It’ll be worth it."

You do end up sleeping, which is a good thing because you both have incredibly busy days. You've been incredibly nervous all day, buzzing with anticipation of whether Pato will become the champion. You don’t get a lot of time, but you do see him for a few minutes before he has to get in the car.

"Kiss for good luck?" You place an exaggerated kiss on his lips. "What about a quickie?"

"Patricio O’ward!" Your jaw is open, and you’re looking around to see if anyone heard him. "Get in your car."

He hugs you before he has to go, but you whisper to him as he does. "Be safe. And I’ll give you whatever you want if you win." When he pulls back, he’s smiling from ear to ear, and he jogs off to his car.

You were on the edge of your seat for all 95 laps. Each lap was more nerve wracking than the last, and you felt like you could only breathe when a yellow was thrown. To make matters worse, there wasn’t a dull moment in the race. There were six yellows and a red flag thrown in the race, and one of the yellows screwed Pato, letting most of the field pit on yellow when he’d just pitted on green. You felt crazy, with his radio in your ear, tracking his stats for every lap, and counting how long each pit stop took. The whole team was on edge, but you were even more so.

After what felt like 10 hours, the race ended with Pato in the lead. You realized immediately everything this meant for him. This is the year he became an Indy 500 winner and an IndyCar champion.

He pulls into pit lane, and there’s cameras all over as the team runs out to meet him. He’s standing on top of his car, screaming out and celebrating, but then he spots you. He points to you and runs over to you as he takes off his helmet. He’s kissing you before you can really process anything. You grab his face and look into his eyes to speak to him. "I can’t believe it, I’m so proud of you." Your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile is.

"Never could’ve done it without you."

Your kiss was put on national television, and fans quickly put together that you’re the girl from Nashville and the victory banquet, but you don’t care. You are so insanely in love with Pato, and you want the world to know it.

#pato o'ward x reader #pato o’ward fanfiction #pato o'ward #indy car

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eddiexmunsonlover · 4 months ago

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One Step Away From You (Chapter 12)

BSF!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!GF!Reader

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Chapter Summary: With your feelings for each other out in the open, Eddie makes up for missed opportunities. WC: 4.7k Warnings: MDNI. Just tooth rotting fluff with a touch of spice. Series taglist: @eddie-is-a-god @siriusmaraudeers @amandahobblepot @littlexdeaths

Sunday, February 16th, 1986

Few people are stirring in the early morning hours on a Sunday. The dark blue sky turning shades lighter by the minute at the crack of dawn. What would be the start of most people’s day is the end of Uncle Wayne’s. Enjoying a cigarette after a long shift at the plant while driving down the abandoned streets of Hawkins, the local country radio station playing through the speakers of his beat-up old truck.

The trailer is dead quiet upon arrival, per usual when he gets home from work. Only the sound of soft, muffled snores drifting into the living room from behind the closed door of Eddie’s room.

After a quick tv dinner to fill his stomach, Wayne settles onto the couch with a hot cup of coffee as he watches the morning news. His typical after-work routine before settling into the fold up bed in the living room for a couple hours of sleep.

He spares a glance down the hall to Eddie’s door, wondering what time the boy finally fell asleep. Finding numerous beer bottles filling the trash can over the last few weeks when he gets home. Wayne could tell he was having a hard time; he hadn’t seen you around as much, Eddie hadn’t mentioned you as much. Hell, Eddie hadn’t been talking as much at all in the spare opportunities the two had together given Wayne’s night work schedule. Wayne tried his best to not interfere, not to overstep and lecture his nephew. He’s an adult now after all.

When it came to his nephew’s best friend that he’d been hiding feelings for for years, Wayne just couldn’t help himself but make little comments here and there. Whenever Eddie would mention you or after Wayne would get to see you, he’d turn to his nephew with a hand on his shoulder.

You better make a move before it’s too late, son.

Don’t be a fool and let a good woman slip through your fingers.

He hopes one of these days the boy will listen to him.

It’s about 10am and Wayne’s only gotten an hour of sleep before the phone begins ringing off the hook. His eyes flutter open halfway through the incessant ringing, but it ceases before he can bother getting up. As his eyes close to go back to sleep, the ringing starts again. With a grumble, Wayne shuffles his way to the phone.

“Munson residence”

His brows furrow at the unfamiliar voice coming through the phone before his eyes turn down the hall.

Knuckles rap against Eddie’s door.

“Son, you’ve got a phone call.” Wayne calls out, listening for movement on the other side of the door. The sound of snores falter, tired groans filling the breaks between them.

He usually wouldn’t overstep the boundary of letting himself into Eddie’s room, but on the verge of impatience from being woken up, he doesn’t think about it.

“Eddie, you-” his speech falters at the sight before him.

Oftentimes you two would fall asleep together, heads slumped together or on each other’s shoulder, but this is different.

Eddie and you lay in his bed in a close embrace, arms snaked around each other and your head on his chest.

“Hmph?” Eddie mumbles half- asleep, head slowly turning to the intrusion with squinting eyes. Eyes that widen after a few quick blinks, recognizing the figure standing in his doorway, feeling like he was just caught sneaking a girl in.

Wayne fights the smirk from creeping onto his lips, looking away with a shake of his head.

“Someone’s on the phone for you.”

With a turn of his heel, he walks back down the hallway, no longer fighting the smile from plastering itself on his face.

The boy finally did it.

Eddie looks down at your peaceful sleeping face on his chest, reality setting in that last night was actually real. He smiles, letting his fingers gently move your hair. With a sigh, he regretfully begins removing his body from yours as slowly as he can to not wake you. Rubbing his eyes as he stumbles down the hallway to the telephone resting on the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

It’s strikingly clear the call has woken Eddie from his sleep, but Steve couldn’t care less.

“Munson, what the hell? I’ve been calling all morning!”

“Uhhh yeah, I was asleep” Eddie glances at the clock hanging on the living room wall, 10:20am. Steve just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“So?” he asks expectantly.

He’d been waiting for a call from Eddie or even you last night. Hoping for good news from Eddie, dreading an angry phone call from you. But the phone at the Harrington house has remained silent all night and all morning. Robin’s tried to convince him that’s good news, but with his patience wearing thin he’s decided it’s time to find out for himself.

“Sooooo?” Eddie prolongs absentmindedly, still out of it from his sleep being abruptly interrupted.

“Jesus Chr- the plan, Eddie?! What happened last night?”

“Ohhhh, yeah” he chuckles lightly, memories of last night shooting through the fog in his mind. “It uh- it worked.”

“It-it worked?” Steve turns to Robin, staring at him wide-eyed and hanging onto every word. “It worked!”

They have their own mini celebration, bouncing up and down and high fiving each other.

“Ahh, well of course it did. I came up with it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the ego and smugness coming through Steve’s voice. Despite it, he has to give him credit.

“Yeah yeah yeah, the great Steve Harrington”

“Yeah and don’t you forget it. You owe me, Munson. Now come on, give me the details!”

Eddie’s in the middle of a groan when the phone is snatched from his hand, eyes falling to you standing next to him out of nowhere. Still groggy but determination in your eyes and actions.

“Harrington.”

The smile on Steve’s face falls.

“O-Oh heyyy there, buddy. Uh-” He tries his best to fake a laugh and light hearted tone, knowing all too well it’s pointless.

“First off… thank you. Really, I mean it. It’s the push I needed. And second off, I’m beating your ass the next time I see you, pretty boy.”

The laugh he gives this time is genuine.

“I wouldn’t expect any less. Sorry for waking you two lovebirds up.”

“Goodbye, haircut!”

In a second, the phone is back on the receiver. Eddie gives you a playful questioning look.

“Pretty boy, huh?”

“Don’t worry, you’re prettier.” You stand there smiling brightly at each other, warm hands clasping together.

The sound of a throat clearing breaks the two of you from your trance, Eddie stepping aside to reveal Uncle Wayne sitting on the edge of his bed, watching the whole interaction.

“I’m so sorry if the call woke you up, Uncle Wayne.” You proclaim wholeheartedly, guilt seeping in at the sight of the tired lines in his face. But he only gives you a warm smile.

“S’all right, darlin.” As you and Eddie turn to leave him to it, he speaks up again. “And may I say… it’s about damn time.”

You and Eddie share a knowing, shy smile at each other and to Wayne.

“Goodnight, Uncle Wayne!” you bid despite the sunlight peeking through the dark curtains of the living room before making your way back into Eddie’s bedroom.

“You know, we still have time for another hour of sleep before I gotta get ready for work.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice, sweetheart.” You laugh watching him literally jump into the bed, shimmying under the covers before looking at you expectantly, patting the spot next to him. “Get your ass in here”

You crawl over him to take your spot, quickly resuming your previous position. Both sighing when you’re back in your cozy, tight embrace.

Despite the interruption, both of you can say it’s the best sleep you’ve had in your lives.

Monday, February 17th, 1986

“So you’re off tonight, right?”

Eddie’s soft voice breaks through the other conversations transpiring at the Hellfire table. You look up from your lunch to his chocolate eyes boring into yours.

“Yeah?”

“No plans with Steve and Robin, or your mom?” You chuckle softly and shake your head. Feeling silly looking back on your actions, excuses you made to avoid Eddie and your feelings for him, now knowing he shared those same feelings the whole time.

“No plans, why?”

“Oh nothing, just curious.” He shrugs, diverting his gaze back to the bag of pretzels in his best attempt at appearing nonchalant. An attempt that fails as your eyes narrow.

“What are you up to, Eds?”

“Me? Up to something? Psh, never.” He feigns offense with wide eyes. A facade that quickly cracks with a smile when your gaze doesn’t falter. With a playful roll of his eyes, he leans closer to you.

“I’ve got some deals to run after school but, I just wanna spend some time with you tonight.” He admits, hand reaching out to take yours in his, thumb gently caressing the knuckles of your fingers. You don’t bother to stifle the smile that creeps onto your lips and blush onto your cheeks.

“Okay”

“Okay? Be ready at 6 o’clock then.”

“Ahh, picking me up to take me to an undisclosed location again?”

“You’ll like it just as much as you did last time” he reassures with a cheeky smile and wink.

“Alright, 6 o’clock.”

“And uh if you don’t mind me asking, can you wear that one dark red sweater of yours? You know, the one with that v neckline?” Your brows shoot up at the request. Despite your inkling suspicions, you push him for your own satisfaction.

“Oh, you like that one, huh? Why that sweater in particular?”

“Well I… I have my reasons.” He throws you one of his devilish smiles, sporting a blush of his own. Flashes of memories of you in the sweater play in his mind, v neck revealing the alluring soft skin of your chest and neck, not to mention the glimpses of cleavage that he’s stolen peeks of every chance he gets.

The two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to your friends around you. Your flirtatious banter and touches on full display.

The sounds of obnoxious lip smacking pulls your attention from one another. Turning to see the younger boys pouting their lips and making kissing noises at the sight.

“Oh, Eddie mwuah mwuah mwuah I love you so much!” Dustin teases.

“Oh Y/N you’re so beautiful!” Lucas adds in, the trio breaking out into snickers as the older boys simply look down at the table, attempting to hide their amused grins.

A pretzel goes flying, hitting Dustin right between the eyes.

“Ow!”

“What are you, 5?!” You laugh out, shaking your head at their antics.

“They’re just jealous.” Eddie proclaims to you, hand squeezing around yours.

“Jealous of what? I have a girlfriend!” Dustin exclaims in confusion.

“Oh, that’s right. Suzie, is it? And uh- where is she again?”

“Utah…”

“Uh huh. Well, I guess I’ll believe her when I see her.” He throws the boy a smug wink, quieting their laughter before resuming his lunch snack, your hand remaining in his.

You hear a knock echo from the front door down the hall and to your bedroom where you’ve been getting ready for Eddie’s arrival. With a glance at the clock on the bedside table, he’s right on time.

Upon opening the front door, you’re greeted with the sight of Eddie, standing there with a shy boyish smile. Only instead of his usual Hellfire or band tee, he sports a black button up shirt, top two buttons left undone, paired with his usual leather jacket but missing his patched vest. In his hand he holds a small bouquet of red roses, extended towards you. You’re left speechless at the sight.

“I know I’m about 3 days late, but I couldn’t let the opportunity to give you a proper Valentine’s Day celebration pass by, even if it’s a little belated” he gives a nervous chuckle, handing the roses over to you. Besides the movement of taking the bouquet into your hands, you remain still and speechless, eyes studying the petals.

The first time you’ve ever gotten a real bouquet of flowers… from the first boy who’s ever given you any kind of flower, daisies picked from the wooded fields you’d explore as kids.

With a shaky breath you hold the bouquet to your chest, watery eyes looking up to meet his.

“Eddie… this is so sweet, thank you. They’re beautiful.”

He takes a step closer, satisfied he’s done well as he looks between the roses and you.

“Well, not as beautiful as you but they’re close enough.” He laughs as you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance at his cheesiness despite the smile pulling at your lips.

“Come on, I’ve got plenty more in store for you tonight.” He alludes, stepping to your side with his arm outstretched for your own to wrap around. Shutting the door behind you, you oblige him. Linking elbows as he escorts you to the van, helping you into the passenger seat before heading toward an unknown destination.

“You’re really not gonna tell me where you’re taking me?”

“Um, that kind of defeats the purpose of a surprise, sweetheart.”

You give an exaggerated huff, turning your attention to the glimmer of lights adorning Hawkins Main Street coming up in the distance.

“Don’t worry, you’ll love it. I promise.”

He offers with a smile that emphasizes his dimples while a hand reaches out to squeeze your thigh. Fingers gently digging into the meaty fat there. After the squeeze his hand remains, lingering there. Radiating warmth through the fabric of your tights, his thumb slowly rubbing back and forth. A gesture that shoots right to your core only a few inches above where his hand rests, internally fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs shut in an obvious attempt to stifle your reaction.

You instead distract yourself with the passing buildings and shops, trying to guess the mystery destination he’s taking you to on your ‘belated Valentine’s Day celebration’.

His hand only leaves your thigh to shift the van into park, right in front of Vito’s. An Italian spot that is arguably your favorite restaurant in town. You look to him with a grin.

“You know me too well.”

Exiting the van, he takes your hand in his, fingers quickly interlocking as you walk to the front doors. Doors that he holds open for you, the gentleman he is.

Upon being greeted by the host, Eddie tells him of a reservation for two, one he’d made after you departed from his bed for work on Sunday. Your less than joyful previous Valentine’s Days weighing on his mind.

The host leads you through tables of families and couples enjoying their meals to a booth toward the back of the room. Sliding into your seats opposing each other, you settle into the familiarity of the place. Moody red walls dimly lit with single fixtures fitted at each wooden table. Nothing in the place has changed over the years you’ve been a patron, and it’s perfect. Much like your date, whose tongue peeks out from between his lips while looking over the menu. You hold back a giggle, looking over your own menu, pondering your options.

“What’re you getting?” You ask, peeking up at him.

“Hmm, I think I’m gonna go for the lasagna.” He declares, setting the paper down on the table.

“Oh? I’ve never tried theirs before. Is it good?”

“I guess we’ll find out. I’ve only been here once before, with you and your mom like, what? 5 years ago? From what I remember the spaghetti was good.” He chuckles, making you smile as you think back on the memory.

It’d been during one of Al’s stunts, nowhere to be found for weeks leaving Eddie under Wayne’s care once again. While he’d been working day shifts at the time, Wayne had an overnight shift he couldn’t switch. Your mom happily offered to watch over Eddie for the night, another sleepover for the two of you. You could never forget his wide-eyed skittish look in the restaurant, a look that didn’t fade till his mouth was full of noodles and spaghetti sauce. At that point in his life, going out to eat at restaurants wasn’t a commonplace activity, nothing outside of cheap diners or drive throughs. To be fair, it wasn’t a frequent activity of yours either, only reserved for nights like that one when your mom had gotten paid and your Dad was somewhere drunk in a bar.

Now look at the two of you.

Still poor, but working your asses off for your own money and future. And on occasion to spend spoiling your loved ones, like tonight.

When the warm plates of food arrive at the table, neither of you waste time digging in.

“So how is it?” You ask after a few bites.

“Pretty good.” He mumbles, finishing the food in his mouth. “Not as good as the one you and your mom make. WHICH, might I add, Wayne has been dying to have again for years now.”

“Riiight, just Uncle Wayne huh?” You smirk at his attempt to use his uncle as a pawn to get what he wants.

Not bothering with a comeback, his fork reaches across the table, stealing some ziti off your plate and funneling it into his mouth with a smile.

“Hey!”

“What? Didn’t you ever learn that sharing is caring? Mmm, that’s good.”

“If there wouldn’t be witnesses I’d throw this at you” you threaten playfully, brandishing a breadstick.

“And waste a perfectly good breadstick? Tsk.” He quickly picks it from your hand, taking a bite while shaking his head in disappointment. “Not good at sharing AND wasteful.”

You scoff out an incredulous laugh, grinning at his antics.

“You’re lucky I like you.” You state simply, snatching your breadstick back from his fingers and taking a bite. An act he smiles proudly at.

“Mmm, and find me very pretty if I recall correctly.”

“The prettiest… and most annoying”

“Ugh. You hurt me, princess.” He scoffs in disbelief, hand on his heart before the dramatics fade. “Don’t lie, you love the way I tease you.”

With a lick of his lips and a wicked glimmer in his eyes, you want nothing more than to lean over the table and encapture his lips with your own, if it wouldn’t catch the attention of the whole restaurant in the midst.

“Hmm. Whatever you need to tell yourself, pretty boy.” You assert, gesturing with your eyebrows while taking another bite of your food. He looks back down at his plate with a chuckle and pink cheeks, scooping up another bite of lasagna.

With empty plates and enraptured in your typical banter, Eddie declines dessert from your server, requesting the bill. When it arrives on the table, he picks it up before you can reach to take a look. Fishing the wallet out of his jeans.

“Eddie. Let me help, please?”

“You can take me out another time sweetheart but this one’s on me.” He returns unwaveringly, handing the bill and cash over to the server when they pass by your table again.

You try to fight the feeling of guilt knowing the bill couldn’t have been cheap. Eddie knew it wouldn’t be, but you deserve to be spoiled and taken care of, and that’s exactly why he picked up some extra deals after school to do just that for you.

“Just let me take care of you, alright?” His voice is light and airy, just like his touch when he reaches across the table for your hand.

It’s something you’ll have to get used to. Letting others do for you without worrying of paying them back, being indebted to them. Letting others do for you without expecting anything in return, only wanting to make you happy. As you look across the table to his smiling face and love filled eyes, it’s something you’ll try to get used to for him.

When he opens the passenger door for you to climb in, you turn back to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips with your hands snaking around his waist.

“Thank you for dinner, Eds.”

His fingers slide into your hair, pulling your face back to his for another kiss.

“S’no problem, sweetheart. But that’s not all I’ve got planned for you.”

He gestures toward the van with his head, following his lead you climb into your seat. Heading back out onto the Hawkins streets to another unknown.

An unknown that turns into a very familiar destination, Wayne’s trailer.

“Is this the part where you seduce me after a nice romantic dinner?” You eye him suspiciously with a playful grin.

“My intentions are purely innocent, I swear.” He laughs before hopping out of the van, pulling you with him up the steps and to the front door. His eyes never leave your face as you step into the trailer, closing the door behind you.

Your gaze first lands on the red heart shaped balloon hanging next to the loveseat, then to the coffee table, covered in drinks and Valentine’s themed snacks and candies, including a heart shaped box of chocolates. A new, unlit candle sitting in the middle, next to a VHS tape of Sixteen Candles.

“You…you did all this for me?”

“Of course I did” arms wrap around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Wanted to make you feel special, treat you the way you deserve to be treated now that I finally can.”

Your hands fall on top of his, resting on your stomach.

“Sixteen Candles, huh? Did you become a fan of rom-coms while I was gone?” You joke, trying to laugh away the tears threatening to fill your eyes.

“Nooooo BUT a little birdie told me it’s your favorite rom-com. I mean, we can always watch My Bloody Valentine but I figured-”

“No no, it’s perfect. Plus, I want the satisfaction of watching you like it more than you think you will.”

“Hmph, we’ll see about that.” He takes your hand in his, pulling you toward your spot on the couch. Within a minute the candle is lit, tape in the VCR, and lights turned off in the cozy trailer.

Touch no longer confined to shoulder-to-shoulder contact, his arm falls behind your head, pulling you into his side that you gladly snuggle against under a crocheted blanket.

Film halfway through and chocolate candies ransacked, a lingering guilt sits in your stomach.

“You know, I wish I’d have known you were doing this, I would’ve gotten you something too.” Your soft gaze turns up to him, looking down at you with a smile as the hand wrapped around you rubs your side.

“Y/N… just having you here with me like this, finally as my girlfriend, getting to do the things with you I’ve always wanted to, like taking you out on a real date… that’s the only gift I need.”

“Eddie…” you protest, hand pressing against his chest.

“I mean it. You don’t need to worry about returning the favor, you are enough.”

Silence falls between you, staring into each other's eyes as your faces inch closer and closer until your lips collide. His hand moves to your back as your fingers slide into his hair. Lips moving together in a slow dance until you tug his curls ever so slightly, pulling a soft, stifled moan from his mouth. If your eyes weren’t closed, they’d be rolling to the back of your head at the sound. Your mouths press harder against each other as heat fills you, the kiss growing more passionate while holding your bodies tightly against each other. A gasping moan of your own escaping at the sensation of Eddie’s tongue gliding along your bottom lip, begging for entry. You happily oblige with your own tongue leisurely swirling around his.

Movie long forgotten playing in the background as you’re immersed in a heated exchange, tongues exploring each other's mouths, dancing together. Your leg is thrown atop his, and it takes everything in you not to grind your core against his thigh. Pathetic whimpers mixing in with the sounds of wet kisses filling your ears. Your hand falls from his hair to let your fingers trail down his long neck. You feel like your entire body is vibrating, throbbing between your legs, nearly in disbelief at how his touch, mouth and tongue meeting yours has gotten you so worked up so quickly.

It’s everything you imagined making out with Eddie would be and more. You don’t know how much more you can take, how much self restraint you have left, quickly fading the more you lose yourself in your body’s urges. You know taking it any farther would be too much, too quick, too soon, but you know you’re teetering on the edge of not giving a damn.

As much as you hate the loss of sensation when his lips part from yours, you’re thankful he seems to have more self control than you do as he pulls back. Heavily panting while looking into each other’s blown out eyes.

“Christ woman, you don’t know how crazy you make me.” He drawls between attempts to catch his breath, eyes falling shut and sweaty forehead pressing against yours. You smile, willing your heart to slow as it beats out of your chest. Eyes falling to his newest item of clothing, bare chest exposed from the loosened top buttons, your fingers trail along the edge of the fabric there.

“I can say the same for you. And might I add, you look very good in this shirt.”

He bites back a groan from the compliment, fused with the sultry tone of your voice. Eyes fluttering open to look down at his shirt, your hand on his exposed chest.

“Yeah? You think so?”

Biting your bottom lip, you respond with a nod as his brown eyes meet yours again.

“Guess I’ll have to wear it more often for you then, yeah?”

With a shy grin and another shake of your head, your lips meet again. Much like how your earlier kiss began, it’s slow and passionate, letting the heat cool and your breaths even out. Neither of you can help it, after years of keeping yourselves shut in a box of friendship, all the passion and desire kept within pours out through your lips in the few occasions you’ve had alone since that night at the lake a few short days ago. The once locked door is now wide open, blown off its hinges and you’re struggling not to run out at full speed.

“I think rom-coms might be my favorite now” Eddie mutters against your lips, cracking a smile when you burst into giggles, playfully slapping his chest.

Your head soon finds its place back on his chest as the two of you bring your attention back to the movie, almost nearing its end. Chunks of plot points missed while lost in each other's lips. Having seen the film many times, you don’t care and have a pretty good feeling Eddie doesn’t either.

When the end credits roll, a glance at the clock on the wall tells you it’s time for you to get back home. It is still a school night, after all.

If Eddie had it his way, he’d never sleep alone again another day in his life. You becoming a permanent fixture in his bed. Now that he knows what it’s like to sleep in your embrace, he doesn’t want to go a day without it. Despite that desire, he doesn’t want to push things too fast and hard right out the gate, even if everything in his body and heart tells him to. Staying safe on the side of self restraint, he regretfully walks you across the street to your front door.

“Thank you for tonight, for everything. It was perfect.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart”

Bouquet of roses in hand, you part with a sweet, gentle kiss.

“Goodnight, beautiful”

“Goodnight, Eds”

With the roses finding their home in a vase on the kitchen counter, you nestle yourself into bed for the night with Henny. Replaying the date with Eddie in your mind as your eyelids close, you feel like you’re on top of the world.

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